Blitzing Emily (3 page)

Brandon looked a bit uncomfortable and shifted on the chair. “You’ve got me. I have plans. I could cancel them, but I left my phone in my locker.”

Emily produced her iPhone from her purse and handed it to him. “If you make a call for me, you can go. Here, just a minute.” She took the phone out of his hand and scrolled through her contacts list. “My sister is busy, but one of my friends might be available. If you’ll call Sarah—I work with her—she doesn’t live far away, and she might be able to pick me up and drop me off at home.” She nodded at the sign. “You’ll need to go outside.”

“Got it.” He fiddled with the phone for a few seconds, and handed it back to her. “I have a BlackBerry. How do you use this thing again?”

It was a good thing he was handsome, because he evidently wasn’t that smart. Emily hit the keys on the display again. “If you push this, the phone will dial. Ask Sarah to come and get me.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “That whole joking about being engaged thing is not going to be a problem for you, is it?”

He shrugged. “Only on a slow news day. Plus, if anything weird happens, I can deal with it.”

Emily tried to shake her head and winced. Obviously she was a public person, too. There’d be a little interest in Emily’s engagement, but Brandon was evidently some kind of big deal. This was a hospital, though. That stuff was confidential.

“I’m betting you have one hell of a headache. Rest.” He reached out to pull the blanket up beneath her chin. “I’ll get you some water.”

“I’m so sleepy,” she told him. “I don’t understand why you’re still here.”

“You fell down. It’s my fault. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’ll be fine. You can go,” she insisted. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Emily wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath. That bath was assuming mythical proportions by this point.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Brandon rose from the chair, stroked her cheek, tossed a “See ya” over his shoulder, and loped out of the room.

Brandon reappeared less than five minutes later.

“Sarah’s busy. Her boyfriend answered the phone. I believe the message was ‘She’d have to get out of my bed for that, and it’s not happening tonight.’ So, I cancelled my plans, and I will chauffeur you home.”

“Let me see if I can find someone else.”

“Not going to happen, sugar. Everyone is out with their valentine, or they’re staying in and not answering the phone.”

“I can do this.” She took the phone out of his hand and started scrolling through names. “I . . . Stop calling me sugar.”

He laughed. It wasn’t that damn funny.

Two male nurses walked into the room. “Emily, we’re here to take you upstairs for some tests. I’m Kevin, and this is Jeff.” Kevin glanced at the phone in Emily’s hand. “You’ll need to put that away,” he scolded.

Emily didn’t remember much of the tests she had. She did remember, however, the stitches she received in the cut on her head. Cheryl the nurse produced two ibuprofens and a cup of cold water as a reward. Emily awoke once more in the dimness of the emergency room cubicle Brandon still sat in. The doctor was talking with him.

“I was at the Minutemen’s game last season,” he told Brandon. “That was quite a sack at the end of the third.”

“What’s a sack?” Emily murmured to Brandon.

His brows drew together, his lips twitched into a smile, but he didn’t answer her.

“I enjoyed it, that’s for sure.” Brandon told him. “I’d like to take my girl home, if that will work for you.”

He set a Styrofoam cup and the newspaper sports page he held on a low rolling table and waited expectantly.

“Shall I tell you the good news or the bad news first?” Dr. Su grinned with what he probably thought was quite a joke.

“Let’s go with the good news.” Brandon patted Emily’s hand as he spoke.

“Hospital cuisine has improved.” Everyone was a comedian. “However, Emily is going to have to stay overnight with us.”

Chapter Two

“D
OCTOR,
I
CAN’T
do that. Since the tests are fine, I’d like to go home.” Emily was having no part of the doctor’s orders. She looked like someone ran over her skateboard. She even managed to work up a couple of tears, which glistened in her amber-brown eyes. Brandon had spent less than two hours with this woman, and he already knew the doctor didn’t stand a chance. In the dictionary under the word “intractable” there was a photo of Emily.

“We’d rather you stayed here.” Dr. Su was still talking. Well, perhaps it should have been called “negotiating.” Maybe Emily was available for Brandon’s upcoming contract discussions. He’d love to see what would happen when she went up against the Sharks’ owners. Then again, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Emily was as lovely as she was hard-headed.

“I live in Redmond. It’s ten miles away or so,” she said.

The doctor caved. “If you really want to go home, you can. But you’ll need to be watched by another adult for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. This is non-negotiable. You won’t be able to do anything but relax. No driving, no working, no nothing.”

“We could call your sister,” Brandon told Emily. “She’ll come over.”

“This is the busiest day of the year for her. She
can’t
come over . . .”

Emily was clutching her head again. Brandon knew she had to have one hell of a headache. If there was one thing all football players had in common it was the fact that every one of them, at one time or another, had suffered a concussion. She looked at him pleadingly. He could never resist a somewhat helpless female. Emily really couldn’t be called helpless, though. One minute she was tougher than Dallas’s defense; a minute later she was all sad golden eyes, fluttering lashes, and quivering lips. There wasn’t a man in the universe that could hope to withstand what she dished out.

“No problem,” Brandon interrupted. “I’ll just stay over.”

Emily’s eyes got huge, but she said nothing. She opened her mouth, quickly clamping it shut when he caught her eye and gave her a barely noticeable head shake.

He’d spend a couple of hours doing the gentlemanly thing. If he moved his ass, he could salvage his evening’s plans as well. It was a win-win. If it got him laid in the next twenty-four hours, even better.

Dr. Su shook Emily’s hand. “It was nice to meet you both. I’ll send the nurse in with discharge instructions. Take it easy. You’ll feel much better in a day or so.”

Emily waited until the doctor left the room before glancing up at Brandon. “If you’ll get me home, I can take care of the rest.”

She evidently wanted to get away from him as much as he wanted to leave, so at least they were even. Another commotion in the doorway revealed Cheryl, the nurse. The discharge instructions were given more to him than to Emily, verbally and in print. Lucky him.

“Emily can have ibuprofen for her headache every four to six hours,” she said. “She had some an hour ago. You’ll need to wake her up every couple of hours and talk with her. If she has double vision, if you can’t wake her up easily, or if she is not making sense when she speaks, she will need to come back to the hospital immediately.”

Brandon was nodding as if he actually planned on staying with her. Mostly, he wanted to leave. Hospitals reminded him of injuries, and injuries were something he didn’t want to be reminded of at all.

“Let’s get you ready to go,” Cheryl said to Emily.

She pulled Emily’s clothing off a hanger in a concealed closet. Brandon ducked behind the sports page once more, but Emily gave him a glare that could melt steel.

“Don’t look,” she said.

“Oh, I’m not,” but it was all he could do not to laugh.

Brandon had known a lot of women since he was old enough to notice. He loved them, and they loved him back. It was as certain in his life as the sunrise each morning. At the same time, Emily was an odd combination of vulnerability and drill sergeant. He wasn’t sure what to think of her.

The nurse was getting in on the act, too: “No funny business. She needs rest.”

Brandon was a little stunned. Here he was doing his Boy Scout good deed for the day, but it still didn’t vouch for either his character or his upbringing. Then again, his mama would be doubled over with laughter right now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am.” He arched one brow.

“Don’t start with me.” Cheryl wagged one finger in his general direction, and indicated the wheelchair by the door. “Let’s go for a little ride, Emily. Mr. McKenna, please get your vehicle.”

Brandon sprinted down the hallway and vanished through the double doors leading to the waiting room. Get in Emily’s car, get on the road, and he could call his date for the evening from the cab he’d be leaving Emily’s place in.

Emily waited on the sidewalk with the nurse.

“Thank you, Cheryl.” Brandon extended his hand to her. “I’ll take it from here.”

“You
will
drive safely on the way home,” Cheryl said.

“My mama must have called you.” He took Emily’s elbow as he led her to her car. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go.”

“I
NEED SOME
directions to your place,” Brandon said.

Emily was fiddling with her phone, and frowning a little.

“Oh, you can just drop me off—”

“There will be no ‘dropping off.’” His voice was stern. “You’re doing exactly what Cheryl and the doctor told us. You have to go straight to bed. Let’s get you there.”

“I can’t figure out why you are doing this. Yeah, I fell down, but it wasn’t like you did it. I’m not mad at you. Plus, you have other pla—”

“Give me the address.”

“I’m on Alder Crest Road in Redmond Ridge. My townhouse is the first one on the corner.” Emily had the phone up to her ear. “Simone, it’s Emily Hamilton.” She listened intently for a few moments. “Not a good time?” He heard a peal of laughter. “Have a great evening with him. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Emily punched the “end” button, and appeared to be thinking. She dialed her phone once more.

“Janey, it’s Emily. Hey, are you busy right now?” She was nodding like Janey was in the car with them. “I understand. Happy Valentine’s Day. I’ll see you soon.” She disconnected her call, and glanced over at Brandon.

“Remember that conversation we had about how everyone you know has plans tonight?” He gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic smile. “It might be a pretty tall order to find someone available.”

Brandon listened while Emily made call after call.

“I’m screwed. Actually, I’m the only one who’s not, according to everyone who’s actually answering their phone.” Her phone rang; Brandon had to smile at the excitement in her voice. “Tristan. How are you doing?”

Brandon couldn’t hear how Tristan was doing, but he heard Emily’s sharp intake of breath.

“Oh, no. I really need your help. I had an accident, and I can’t be left alone tonight. No, no. I’m okay, I just . . . Is there any way that you and Jason could possibly come over? I know it’s a huge imposition.” She listened for a moment, said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my mom and dad. You two have a great evening.”

Emily sagged against the passenger seat. So, Tristan
wasn’t
her boyfriend.

“Tristan said that unless I wanted to witness him performing acts on Jason that are illegal in thirty-seven states, it probably was not going to happen tonight.” She let out a sigh, and intoned, “It’s time to call my parents.”

“Sounds like a rugged phone call, sugar.”

Emily rolled her eyes. The movement must have hurt because she flinched.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see them. They’re going to freak out. I’d rather avoid it.” She fiddled with her phone again, and listened for a few minutes. “Mom, it’s Emily. I spent the afternoon at Evergreen, and I need your help. Love you. Bye.”

“Let me guess. They’re not home, either.” Brandon turned onto Alder Crest Road, and Emily pointed to the townhouse on the corner.

“That’s mine.”

He pulled into the driveway, shut off the ignition, and turned to her expectantly. “So, invite me in.”

“Look,” Emily dropped the phone back into her purse. “I really appreciate your taking me to the hospital, staying with me, and driving me home, but I was wondering if I could ask you for one more favor.”

He got out of the car, crossed to the passenger door, and opened it. “Let’s have this conversation inside.”

A
FTER A SHORT
tutorial on which key fit in the front lock, Brandon followed Emily into her house. She promptly tripped on the luggage left in the entryway. He reached out, caught her around the waist, and set her back on her feet.

“Your roommate should clean up more often.”

Emily wriggled out of his grasp and bent down to unzip her boots. She clutched her head. “No roommate,” she said.

“Maybe you should sit down before trying that.”

She limped across the living room to a pair of leather couches. “I just got home from San Jose. I’ll drag them upstairs to unpack at some point.”

“That’s the least of your problems right now.”

“I have to be onstage at McCaw Hall at ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” Emily told him. “I don’t have time for this.” She dropped both boots on the carpeting and leaned back against the couch. She pushed a curtain of strawberry-blonde curls out of her eyes with one hand. “Please sit down.”

“You might want to reschedule,” he told her.

“I have to go. I have rehearsals. I’m performing in
The Marriage of Figaro
in two weeks,” Emily said. “It’s an opera.”

“You’re an
opera singer?
” Brandon realized his mouth was hanging open. He blurted his question out in the same tone of voice he might have used to say, “You’re a
convicted felon
?” or “You were
raised by wolves
?”

“The technical term is ‘diva.’”

He was having a rough time wrapping his brain around this. “But you’re not fat. Opera singers are . . . larger. They wear headgear with horns sticking out on either side.”

“That’s only for
The Ring,
” Emily said.

“I saw that movie. That little girl’s eyes . . . She freaked me out,” he muttered.