The Back-Up Plan (12 page)

“Is Timmy allergic to any medications?” she asked his mother.

“Not as far as I know, Doctor.” Her voice was steadier now.

“Okie dokie. Let’s get you patched up, Timmy. Mrs. Jenkins held his arm firmly in place while Donna applied the anesthetic. Timmy’s frantic cries broke Donna’s heart.

“That’s the worst part, I promise,” Donna told him softly. His little tear-stained face showed no signs of being convinced.

“I’ll bet you didn’t know that I once met Big Bird, did you Timmy?” she asked, trying to distract him.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Well, I did.” Donna smiled down at the little boy. “I worked at a big hospital in a big city. Big Bird came by to visit the children who were in the pediatric ward. Do you like Big Bird?”

He bobbed his head up and down with a little more enthusiasm.

“Me too.” Donna gingerly washed the wound and checked for glass fragments.

She continued her Big Bird story while she sutured. By the time she pulled the last suture through, Timmy had relaxed and his tears had dried. For his bravery, he received a sticker and a sugar-free lollipop.

Patty scheduled a follow-up appointment and obtained the appropriate insurance information while Donna cleaned up the exam room and then retreated to her office.

No matter how often she faced it, the difficulty of watching a child suffer never lessened. Hard as she tried not to, she imaged Melissa in the same circumstances. Donna closed her eyes and relaxed.

“Donna!”

“Hmm?” She forced her eyes open as Patty stuck her head into the office.

“You have another patient.”

“Really?” Donna got to her feet. Two patients the first day? They were on a roll.

“Hank Bradley,” Patty announced.

“Who?” Donna repeated, hoping she had heard wrong.

“The jock,” Patty clarified. “He’s in two.”

Donna could’ve done without the smugness. Patty disappeared up the hall. Donna took a deep breath, smoothed a hand over her French braid and headed toward exam room two.

What could be ailing him? He looked as healthy as the proverbial horse last night. Maybe a virus or bug of some sort. Even big, tough guys like him got those.
I will not react to him
, Donna promised herself as she took the few steps necessary to reach the examination room.

She pulled the new file labeled “Hank Bradley” from the drop box hanging on the wall next to the door.

Almost thirty-one, she noted as she scanned the general information form. Six feet two inches tall. One hundred ninety pounds. Donna fidgeted with the collar of her white cotton blouse as she read over his medical history. No previous medical problems, except a knee injury. No medication. Family medical history looked good.

Donna closed the file and fanned herself.
Is it hot in here or is it just me?
She definitely needed to check the thermostat. Maybe the central air had gone on the blink. That would be just her luck.

“Okay,
Doctor
Jacobs, let’s get this over with,” she muttered. Donna grasped the doorknob and clenched her jaw. He’s a patient. Just another patient. She swung the door open and breezed into the room, pretending to be engrossed in his medical file.

“Hello, Mr. Bradley, what seems to be the problem today?” she asked briskly, keeping her eyes glued to the file.

“Hello to you, too, Doc,” he drawled in that deep, masculine voice that disrupted Donna’s equilibrium. “I like your new sign.”

Donna frowned, then realized he was talking about the sign on the front of the clinic. It had arrived just in time for the open house. “Thank you.”

“The whole place looks great.”

She gave him a smile and decided to move on to business. “If you’re here about your knee.” She continued to pretend to peruse his file. “It would be best if you sought medical treatment from an orthopedist. I’m sure—”

“It’s not my knee that hurts.” he interrupted. “It’s right here.”

There was simply no way around what she had to do. Donna closed his file and looked at him. All six feet two inches and one hundred ninety pounds of him. Hank Bradley lounged against the examination table. Not a care in the world. Donna took a second look. Was that a smudge of green paint on his left cheek? It was hard to tell without getting closer.
No way was she getting any closer, unless medically necessary
.

“It hurts where, Mr. Bradley?” She cringed when his intense blue gaze locked with hers. His file slipped from her suddenly boneless fingers and slapped on the tile floor. Both crouched to retrieve it, coming face to face, fingers tangling on the manila folder.

“Hank,” he reminded, a charming smile falling into place.

Donna stood quickly and straightened the contents of the file. “You were saying it hurts where?”

She saw his hand coming, but before she could comprehend his intent, he grabbed her hand and pressed it firmly against the center of his chest.

“Here,” he told her. His big, square hand covered hers completely.

Donna snatched her hand back and shot him a warning glare. “Describe the pain.”

Hank rubbed his hand over his broad chest as if trying to decide exactly how to recount it. “A tightness, maybe,” he said and then shrugged.

A trickle of concern nudged her as she tucked his folder under her arm and reached for the blood pressure cuff. It wasn’t unheard of for a man his age and in such excellent physical condition to develop cardiovascular problems, but it certainly wasn’t typical. He held out his right arm for her to strap on the cuff. With one push of a button the cuff swelled around his arm and measured his pressure. Normal.

“What other symptoms have coincided with the tightness?” She pulled the pen from her pocket and noted the pressure reading in his file.

“I don’t know if I can describe it.” He rested his hands on the examination table on either side of him, causing the front of his button-down shirt to open wider.

Donna’s eyes lingered there. “Any sweating? Nausea?” she asked, feeling a little lightheaded. She’d probably break out into a sweat any second now. How he made her so uncomfortable and yet so comfortable at the same time she would never understand.

He worried his bottom lip with his teeth as he considered her question. Donna imagined how it would feel to have him nibbling on her lip like that. She licked her parched lips.
Goodness, it’s hot in here
. She almost used his file as a fan again, but caught herself in the nick of time.

“No sweating, really. More like a flushed feeling. And my stomach has been a little squeamish lately,” he told her.

Donna placed his file on the side table. This was crazy. Stop acting like an idiot, Donna. The man needs a doctor and you’re a doctor, she reminded herself.

“Remove your shirt, please.”

“You want me to take off my shirt?” He looked as surprised as Donna felt reluctant.

“Yes, I do.” Donna met his gaze and tried to ignore the adrenaline rush that resulted.

“Anything you say, Doc.” With a wide Hank Bradley grin, he unbuttoned his shirt.

Each released button revealed more of that smooth, tanned skin. When he reached the last exposed button, he pulled the shirttail from his jeans and Donna barely contained her shiver of anticipation. She watched, enthralled, as he released the final buttons and slid the shirt over his wide shoulders, then down and off his arms.

Donna moistened her lips and moved closer. She settled her stethoscope into place and reached out to place the contact piece against his chest. At her touch, taut muscle contracted. He groaned and shrank back from the cold metal.

“Sorry,” she muttered and held the cold disc close to her mouth to warm it with her breath. Hank watched her intently. The air thickened with tension, making it hard to breathe.

Donna braced for the bombardment of feelings and pressed the metal disc to his warm skin. She listened as she had thousands of times to thousands of other people. But this wasn’t other people. This was Hank Bradley. The man poised to ruin all her plans. She had planned to build a nice, quiet life for herself and her daughter. Nothing more. Why couldn’t he find some other woman to pursue so relentlessly?

“Deep breaths, please,” she instructed.

He complied, his chest expanding as he drew in a long, deep breath. Muscle contracted and then relaxed. She listened to the rhythmic drumming of his heart.

Finally she pulled back and settled the stethoscope down around her neck. “Your heart sounds fine. A little rapid, but fine.” Her own blood roared in her ears as it rushed through her body, more than a little rapidly.

“That’s a relief,” he said, smoothing a hand over his chest.

The sight of his hand moving over his bare skin sent heat spiraling through her. Despite the tremendous time and effort she had put into ignoring men, this man had undone all that and more in just a few short days. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Want things she didn’t want to want.

“Any shortness of breath?” she asked, her voice stilted.

“Now that you mention it.” He rubbed his chin and seemed to consider her question. “I have noticed some difficulty breathing.”

“Do all these symptoms occur simultaneously?” she inquired further, concerned as well as confused at this point.

“Pretty much,” he replied as he swept that forever-errant lock of black hair from his forehead.

“During or after exertion?” She allowed her eyes to rest on his face. Her heart skipped several beats for her trouble.

“Neither,” he said.

“Neither?” she parroted, confused.

“The only time I feel like this is when I’m around you, Doc.”

All those wayward feelings channeled into one—anger. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I can’t help how I feel, Doc.” A smile that matched the heated excitement in his eyes spread across his handsome face.

Damn that smile. She couldn’t even stay mad at him for more than a few seconds. She recognized the want in his eyes, felt the desire emanating from his body. He shifted his position, but made no move to touch her. Thank God for that. If he touched her now, she might not be able to stop herself from running her hands up and over that awesome chest...tangling her fingers in all that thick, dark hair at his nape.
Stop it
.

Donna squared her shoulders and crossed her arms over her middle. “You’ve wasted my time as well as taken advantage of me professionally. I don’t consider those actions friendly or appealing.”

“How else is a guy supposed to get close to you, Doc? You avoid me every chance you get. You rushed away last night with hardly a good-bye. And then you didn’t even come near the classroom today. What’s a guy supposed to do?”

Donna looked him straight in the eye and lied. “You’re beating your head against a concrete wall, Hank Bradley. I’ve had to make a lot of changes in my life lately and romance is the furthest thing from my mind.” She suppressed the urge to reach up and touch her nose to see if it were growing before she lied some more. “Your persistence makes me very uncomfortable and more than a little unhappy.”

“I thought we’d already had this conversation, Doc.” He didn’t appear put off in the least.

“So did I. We agreed to be friends. And don’t call me doc.”

“Friends is good, but I know you’re attracted to me,” he said, softness tempering the certainty. “I can feel it right here.” He placed his hand over his heart.

“Attraction isn’t enough,” she countered, her eyes riveted to the spot he had just touched.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” He slipped his shirt back on and buttoned a few buttons. “Attraction’s only the beginning.”

What was she going to do with this man? Donna snatched up his file and made the notations regarding his heart rate. “Unless there’s something else you need to discuss, I see nothing that requires treatment.” She shot him an assessing glance. “Discounting your enlarged male ego, of course.”

Hank’s good-natured laughter dissolved any irritation she had managed. He tucked his shirttail back into his jeans, the action sending another flare of heat searing through her.

“Actually there is one other thing.” He straightened the collar of his shirt. “Friday night is Huntley’s homecoming game and dance. We scheduled it a little early this year so it wouldn’t interfere with the Harvest Festival. I wondered if maybe you’d consider going with me.”

Donna dropped his file again. “Going with you?” she asked as if he had spoken in a foreign language. “Like a date?”

Hank retrieved the file and placed it on the side table. “Exactly like a date.”

“I’m not much of a sports fan.” Donna tried not to look as shocked as she felt. “I’m sure you can think of someone else to invite—”

“I’m inviting you.”

“You’re a patient. I don’t date patients.” Victory! Let him try to find a way around that. His own machinations had foiled his plan.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” He frowned. “Consider it a community service then,” he offered, his smile returning.

“And just how do you figure that?”

“I’m one of the chaperones for the dance. If you come with me, then you’ll be performing a service for the school. Not to mention you’ll be handy in case there’s a medical emergency.” From the gleam of triumph in his eyes, Donna knew Hank Bradley thought he had cinched it.

“And just what kind of medical emergency might occur at a high school dance?”

“All kinds of things can go wrong.” His expression grew serious. “One of the girls could fall off her high heels. A guy could get whopped on the head for looking at another girl. Just think of the possibilities.”

Donna would not allow the laughter that bubbled up into her throat to escape. The man was incorrigible. The answer could only be no. No. She couldn’t go. Wouldn’t go. “I thought we agreed to be friends and friends don’t date,” she protested.

“Okay, so we won’t call it a date,” he offered efficiently. “We’ll call it an evening out with a friend to support the community.”

Out of the question, she told herself. Going out with Hank Bradley bordered on insanity. “It just wouldn’t work,” she answered for lack of anything else to say.