Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (43 page)

T
rey walked
through the door to the patient's room without glancing up from his tablet.

"Okay, Miss. Webb, let's see here." He scrolled down, checking each of the notes the nurse had made, and said, "So, no history of smoking, healthy family background, no previous history of stress-related illness."

"Right." A refined female voice responded, though it was younger than he'd expected. He glanced at the chart again. 28? What kind of 28-year-old was running across coals at a corporate retreat?

He looked up at her at last, and paused, trying his best to look unconcerned with how incredibly gorgeous the woman in front of him was. It was true that the tightness of her dark red bun made her high cheek bones look almost severe, but that was eased by the gentleness in her hazel eyes.

And her body...

He scanned her quickly, pausing on the bright red soles of her feet and doing his damndest not to stare at her slender calves or the voluptuous curve of her bust in her dark purple dress. Her very short, dark purple dress.

"Well, it seems that your burns are minor and should be just fine within a couple days, though they may smart for a little while."

"Thanks..." She looked him up and down, apparently sizing him up much the same way as he'd done to her, then added, "No offense or anything, but I'm not sure why I need a doctor to tell me that, though. Couldn't the nurse just--"

"Unfortunately it's not your feet that concern us. Miss Webb, tell me, is there any chance you might be pregnant?"

"I--Wha--no." She tripped over the words and a pretty pink flush coated with cheeks.

Good, he almost wanted to say. He could ask if there was a man in her life, try to phrase it under the guise of sexual history...

But no. He was done dating. Done with getting serious, and if this woman was anything it was serious.

He wasn't going to treat her as anything other than a patient. Even if this woman had a way of making even business casual look sinful.

"Good, good." He made a note on the tablet, and she blinked up at him, her brow knit tightly.

"Is there something I should be worried about?"

"Frankly, I don't know yet. Would you mind telling me exactly what happened while you were walking across the coals?"

"Well..." She rubbed the back of her neck, then said, "It's like I told the nurse, I kicked off my shoes and sort of readied myself. Then I stepped onto the coals and my heart like, seized up almost. I got a little bit of tunnel vision and tried to walk faster because my heart was beating so fast. Then it felt like it stopped altogether and I stopped short and..." She looked down at her feet. "Well, here we are."

"How long did it take for your shortness of breath to subside?"

"Maybe about two minutes. It felt like such a long time, though. I...I don't know what happened."

"Tell me, have you been going through anything stressful lately? Anything out of the usual?"

"Well, my company just had a big merger. I'm here on a company retreat while the offices are being renovated."

"So, new boss? New job?"

"Not a new job. I mean, I'm hoping for one. I'm up for a promotion if everything goes according to plan."

"And, if you don't mind my asking, has it been going according to plan?"

The rosy color on her cheeks darkened and he nodded, understanding.

"Okay, let's run a couple of tests." He pulled over the heart rate monitor and slipped the little rubber piece over her finger. "I'm just going to look at your heart rate, see if it's relaxed a little. Now, if you don't mind, I'd also like to get a look at your blood pressure again. I know the nurse took it..."

But that reading can't possibly be right, he wanted to finish. Still, the woman only shrugged and he placed the cuff over her bicep quickly, careful not to touch her creamy white skin.

"All right, Miss Webb, this might get a little uncomfortable." He started the machine and watched as it whirred to life, but try as he might there was something about this woman's face that distracted him. Maybe it was the way the tiny bow of her mouth thinned into a line when the pressure increased, maybe it was the way her pert nose wrinkled when the cuff finally began to relax.

Whatever the case, Trey was relieved when the machine beeped and the reading popped onto the monitor.

He blinked, checked again, then looked down at the tablet. The nurse's reading was the same as his own.

He glanced at her heart rate and did his best to maintain a poker face while he examined the huge spikes and the rapidly shifting peaks.

"Okay, Miss Webb. Thanks so much. I think we're going to need to keep you overnight and take you for some stress tests in the morning."

"I can't." She said the words almost automatically and he took a step back.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm here for this retreat. I'm giving the keynote address at breakfast. I'm already on thin ice with my boss and if I miss this--"

"Surely your health comes first."

When silence answered him, he tried again, "Miss. Webb--"

"Felicia, please."

"Felicia, then. Let me be frank with you. Your results are...Well, I've never seen anything like them. You should be dead."

“Your machine is probably broken. That's ridiculous,"

Trey considered for a moment, but something--maybe the way her shoulders with hitched to earlobes or the way her legs were tightly locked one over the other--told him that there was nothing wrong with he machines. This woman was simply a ticking timebomb of stress, waiting to explode.

"Even if that were the case, I think we need some additional tests to find out for sure. It's clear that you're under a great deal of stress--"

"I'm fine. Everyone goes through tough times. I'm tough, too. I'll just--"

"Felicia, I don't think you're listening to me. Letting stress like yours go unchecked is a recipe for disaster. You could have ulcers. And that's to say nothing of your mental health--"

"Look, Doctor--?"

"Patterson."

"Doctor Patterson, I appreciate your concern, but I really just want some ice for my feet and a good night's sleep. Everything else will be just fine, I'm sure of it."

“I can't recommend that you leave."

* * *

F
elicia looked
the doctor up and down again, trying to decide whether or not she could take him. He'd said the words like they were an ultimatum. Like she could choose to stay here in some resort makeshift hospital or walk back onto the beach and die in the sand.

Well sorry, buddy
, she was pretty sure that wasn't the case. After all, it's not like he was some world class surgeon. He was a glorified school nurse as far as she could tell, and she was hardly about to put her career on the line because of this one man.

No matter how good looking he was.

She pushed that thought aside. It had nothing to do with anything. Nothing at all.

It did not matter that he looked like Malibu, surfer ken with his thick head of blond hair and those killer blue eyes.

He probably surfed, too...

She shook her head, reminding herself to come back into the moment."You can't force me to stay, either."

"No, I can't."

"Right, well, sounds like that's settled, then." She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded firmly. "Do you have a wheelchair or something I can use to get around tonight?"

"I do. And I'll give it to you, but first I want to go over some important information with you."

She sighed. "Look, I'm not going to die."

"Maybe not, but..."

"Okay, okay. Let's just get this over with so I can go practice my speech."

He crossed the room and she tried not to stare at his perfect backside as he moved, did her best not to notice his powerful thighs, his lean waist...

"We have a lot of corporate retreats come and go, you know, and a lot of professionals are under a lot of stress to outperform nowadays. A little while ago, we devised this packet for helping those professionals try to find a balance in their lives and find the things that make them happy."

He handed her a glossy blue pamphlet and she flipped past the picture of a meditating frog to glance at the bullet-pointed list inside.

"Coloring," she read, then looked up at him. "Seriously?"

"Maybe people find that it helps them in much the same way as meditation does."

"Square breathing? What the hell is that?"

"So, in order to do that, you're going to breathe in a square. Breathe in for two, hold for two, breath out for two, hold for two. Then repeat until you find your calm again.”

"Okay, so you're telling someone that the thing to do when they're having trouble breathing is to...breathe? I can quote you on that?"

He offered her a half-smile. "It's really not as difficult as it may seem. Try a few of them tonight and see if they work out for you. You may be surprised."

"Thanks....I will." She lied. The very image of herself coloring made her want to burst out laughing. But then, the sooner she agreed to whatever it was he wanted, the sooner she'd be able to get back to her room and find a way to get on her boss's good side."

And after ruining tonight's main event, that was probably going to be a whole lot easier said than done right about now.

She pictured Frank's stormy curls all ruffled in anger and frowned. Nope, relaxing was definitely not on her agenda for a very long time.

"Felicia, I know it seems silly, but please take my advice. You have no idea how important it is to make sure you're on an even keel. It could change your whole life."

"Thanks, doc." She waved the pamphlet. "I'll take it under advisement."

He frowned for a moment, knitted his brow, then said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"I guess."

"You don't exactly seem like the coal walking type."

"You got me."

"So...why do it?"

"Why not?" She shrugged.

"Seriously. You put your safety on the line. Why?"

"This promotion is important." She said, but when he looked disappointed, she wasn't sure what else to add.

"All right, let me get you that wheelchair and some ointment for your burns."

"Thank you."

He left the room and she watched the door for a long moment, evaluating everything he'd said. Biting her bottom lip, she took another look at the pamphlet. Maybe she could try taking a bubble bath or something. If it was really so important. Maybe.

The door swung open again and he folded the wheelchair out for her before taking her ankle in hand and running something cool and slick over the pad of her foot. A chill ran up her spine and she bit back the urge to laugh.

"Ticklish?" he asked.

"Just a little."

"All right, we're almost done." He took her next foot and did the same, though this time she noticed how he was careful to avoid the more sensitive parts of her feet. When he was done, he wrapped her feet in gauze and then straightened. "Okay, we're going to make sure you're all better before you head home to...I'm sorry, I don't remember what your chart said."

"New York."

"New York," he repeated. "Now I'm going to lift you into your chair, okay?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she had the chance, his arm was tucked under her knees and around her waist, hoisting her into the air almost effortlessly. Another tingle ran down her spine and then an ache of awareness throbbed in her core just before he set her down again.

"Okay, Felicia Webb, be careful. And I hope I never see you again."

"Thanks," she smiled back at him, but couldn't bring herself to agree.

-
J
og in place

- Hum to yourself

- Try Yoga

W
hat a crock
.

She'd tried half of the suggestions in the tiny leaflet last night, and all she'd come away with was frustration and the very definite impression that she was not designed to relax. It was possible, wasn't it? That some people's happy place was simply brainstorming on their next project. That some people just didn't like to lay back in the grass and watch the clouds?

She'd even given that stupid guided meditation a go, following along with a video she'd found online, but every time she got to the "space of opportunity" she found her inner self staring at her desk at work, with a stack of papers already waiting for her to sort and read through.

Inner peace wasn't only overrated, it simply wasn't possible. Not for her, anyway.

And besides, what did that stupid doctor think he knew anyway? He probably went to some island medical school where they taught people how to deal with shark bites and other tropical illnesses. He couldn't understand what it was really like--what life in the corporate world did to people. She pictured him, all tall and tan and lean. It was probably easy to relax when you looked like that. And on an island like this, he probably found plenty of people to help him relax...

Maybe that was all she needed. A nice, quick lay. Something to brush off the tension and keep the punches rolling. It had been so long that she could hardly remember what that kind of release felt like.

She glanced around the table covertly, watching as the head of accounting crunched into a piece of bacon and used his hand to wipe his mouth. Cast a quick look at Steve in marketing as he downed some orange juice that most definitely had a vodka kick to it.

Okay, maybe some things were easier thought of than done...

Felicia closed the pamphlet for what felt like the hundredth time and stared at the piece of now-cold toast in front of her. Taking a sip from her coffee, she shook her head and tried to bring herself back to the present. She shouldn't be worried about stupid things like serenity or whatever hippy nonsense the doctor had in mind right now. This morning, she was going to give a speech that would knock the company's collective socks off. She was going to get out of this funk with Frank, get back to New York, and then she could worry about everything else.

Then and only then.

She crunched into her toast, then reached for one of the little jam packets in the middle of the table when Barbara, the secretarial assistant, caught her eye from across the room and made a bee-line for her.

Silently, Felicia did her best to suppress a sigh, knowing already what was coming--

"Did you hear?" Barbara asked, apparently too worked up to bother with pleasantries.

"I'm going to guess I haven't." Felicia said not unkindly, and leaned her head on her fist.

"Frank and some of the higher ups had another meeting before breakfast this morning. They had me arrange it all."

Felicia frowned. "Why would they do that?"

"Well, there are a few schools of thought, but I'll tell you what I think--this whole trip is to divide the haves from the have nots."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, a merger always means people are going to get laid off and made redundant."

"But they already--"

"Yes, they already let a few people go. High salary workers, too. They're trying to decide who is fit for the company to move up in the ranks and who doesn't have a place anymore." Barbara glanced covertly around the table. "But don't tell anyone you heard it from me."

"Of course not," Felicia said. "But why are you telling me--"

Barbara's thin mouth contorted in something like a pained expression, and then the door on the far side of the room opened and she was off like a shot, back to her table with the rest of the secretarial pool. Felicia blinked after her for a moment, then turned her attention back to the notecards on the table in front of her. As Frank beamed and waved as he made his way across the conference hall, she stuffed her pamphlet in her tiny brown purse and then made sure all her notes were in order.

This was it. Her big chance. The speech she'd been preparing for weeks and weeks and--

A too-gentle palm rested on her shoulder and she craned her neck to find Frank standing over her, his too-friendly smile still plastered in place.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Moonbeam. Would you mind if I sit?" He gestured to the empty chair beside her and she shook her head.

With a gentle groan, he settled into the seat and for the first time his dreamy grin faltered. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Okay," she did her best to look nonplussed, but put her toast down all the same. "What's up?"

She tried for her most casual tone, but Frank still looked at her like he was sitting beside her deathbed. Which, all in all, was not nearly as comforting as he might have thought.

"The other board members and I have discussed it, and given what happened yesterday--"

"I'm all better now. It really was barely a burn. I can walk around and--"

Frank held up a hand to silence her and she stopped short, though she had to fight not to narrow her eyes at him.

"I understand. It's not your feet that concern me. I just want you to be able to take this time to relax and enjoy yourself. So, after meeting with the other board members this morning, we've determined that it might be a better idea for you to sit back this morning instead of giving the keynote speech."

Her mouth dropped open for just a second, but then she glared around, trying to see if anyone had heard what he'd said. Or, rather, if they'd notice her groveling for him to reconsider.

No such luck, though. It felt like every eye in the room was trained on her, waiting for her to drop the ball or freak out again. And with Frank sitting there like the em-effing-buddha, all serene and dignified, it was hardly the time to beg.

So she did the only thing she could do.

She tried for her own dreamy smile and shuffled the cards in front of her before stuffing them into her bag. "That's very thoughtful of you."

Barbara's gaze caught hers and she noticed the slightest shake of the other woman's head before she turned to face Frank again. "Thank you."

"Thank you, dear. I knew you'd understand."

"Certainly."

Without another word, he placed his hands on his knees and heaved himself from the chair, waddling his way over to the executive table as everyone in the room looked on.

Felicia glanced at the piece of toast in front of her, but her stomach heaved just considering it. She poked it with one finger before leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes.

This was okay. It wasn't a sign. It wasn't some clue that she was the next to be sacked.

Barbara got things wrong all the time. In fact, wasn't Barbara the one who claimed that alien abductions happened all the time and when people least suspected them? Who would take stock in the claims of a woman like that?

Felicia opened her eyes and watched as Ken Thomas--now known as Dragon Rider--took to the podium and tapped the tiny microphone.

"Good morning," he began, but as he went on, his words all seemed to blurr together. She noted words that were in her own speech--something here about unity, something there about innovation, but aside from that, she had nothing.

She'd been replaced.

Barbara glanced at her from across the room again and Felicia scooted from her chair as quickly and quietly as she could, then backed out into the resort hallway.

She had to find a bathroom. Someplace to clear her mind, to think things through and get right with herself.

She sprinted down the hall until she found a water fountain and stopped short. She took a quick look around, then leaned her hip on the little lever and splashed her face with some of the cool, crisp water.

"Get it together, Felicia," she whispered. "This doesn't mean anything. You just have to...have to..."

She sighed, then splashed her face with water. "If you can't beat them, join them. You just have to beat them at their own game. Chill out. You just have to--"

"Talking to yourself?" A familiar voice sounded from behind her and she turned to find Doctor Patterson staring down at her. This time, though, she didn't have to imagine what he'd look like underneath his lab coat and professional-looking slacks. Today, he was dressed in bright red swim trunks and nothing else, leaving every line of his perfectly contoured abs open for her to ogle.

She trained her vision on his cool blue eyes, then swallowed hard. He was smiling a toothy, white smile she hadn't seen the day before. The lines of concern on his forehead had been replaced with clear amusement.

He was laughing at her.

"I wasn't--" she started, but he cut her off.

"You were. It's okay. Perfectly sane, in fact."

Something warm dripped on her cheek and suddenly she was all too aware of how her face must look. The lines of her mascara were probably running down her cheeks, making her look like a discount rodeo clown.

Quickly, she swiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "Glad to hear it."

"I'm glad you read the pamphlet, too."

"I--"

"The pep talks, the cold water. It all helps. Though, if you're not busy, maybe you'd like to try those stress tests--"

"No offense, but you don't seem to be dressed for work."

He glanced down at himself, then smiled. "No, I guess you're right. I'm going to meet a friend who does surf instruction on the island."

"That sounds fun."

"It's a nice way to relax, for sure." He placed the emphasis "relax" and she had to fight not to roll her eyes at him.

"You know, some people just like to work."

"And some people work until it kills them," he shot back. "Besides, since I'm off the clock, I might mention that your hair would probably look great if you let it down every once in awhile."

"I let my hair down."

"Far be it from me to disagree."

She glanced up at him, suddenly noticing exactly how close he'd gotten. Somehow, in the few moments since they'd been talking, they were now only inches from each other. Close enough for her to feel the sun's heat still radiating from his skin. Close enough that if she got on her tiptoes she might just be able to...

She studied his lips, full and supple and still so strong. Silently, she wondered what he tasted like. What the heady mix of his piney, masculine smell would do to her as she kissed him.

"I have to get back to work," she said.

"Color me surprised." He smiled down at her, but she didn't bother to smile back at him.

Instead, she rushed back to the conference room, determined to never, ever see him again.