Stephanie Bond – Baby, Drive South (страница 7)

If pressed, she’d have to say the man’s sex organ was above average.

“I’m trying to think of something else,” he said, “but it’s hard—” He stopped. “I mean, it’s difficult to think of something else with all those good-looking women outside.”

“Keep trying,” she said wryly, then pulled the lead-lined apron she was required to wear while operating the X-ray machine over her head.

He made a face at the bulky garment. “I never had a woman want to get me alone and then put more clothes on.”

Nikki rolled her eyes and picked up the hand-held scanner. “Mr. Armstrong, if you keep talking, I’m afraid this is going to be very painful.” Painful for her, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Porter,” he muttered, but fell quiet.

Nikki had to smother a smile while she held the scanner close to the skin, then ran it slowly over his foot and leg.

She hit a button to tell the machine she was finished, then waited while the image appeared on the eight-by-ten-inch black-and-white screen.

“Is my ankle broken, doc?”

Nikki studied the X-ray and took her time responding. “The ankle is simply the joint where your leg bones meet your foot bones.” She turned the screen and pointed to the skeletal image. “Looks like the tibia, which is the larger leg bone connected to your foot, is intact. But the smaller bone, the fibula, is broken, and I’m guessing you have some torn ligaments, too.”

“Can you fix me up?”

“I can set the bone and apply a cast to your ankle to support it while everything heals. The bone had a clean break, so it should be fine. But the ligaments are less predictable, and your ankle could be dislocated. You really should see an orthopedic surgeon sometime in the next few weeks to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“How long will I be laid up?”

“At least six weeks.”

He frowned. “That long?”

“More if you have complications.”

He looked devastated. “Are you sure?”

She set down the X-ray machine so he could see the screen. “I’m only telling you what I see,” she said, arching her eyebrow. “You’re welcome to get a second opinion.”

A sheepish expression crossed his face. “Okay, do whatever you need to do, little lady doc.”

She pulled out a syringe and filled it from a vial.

“Except give me another shot,” he protested, pushing up on his elbows. “I already feel…loopy.”

She flicked the syringe. “Trust me, Mr. Armstrong, you don’t want to be awake while I set the bone.”

“Porter. And I can handle pain.”

“No doubt,” she said, nodding to his scars. “But there’s no need to be a hero here. Besides, my job will be easier if you’re under.”

“Okay,” he grumbled.

“While you’re out, I’ll clean your cuts.” She leaned over his arm and swabbed it with an alcohol pad.

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his voice husky.

The remark caught her by surprise, sending a shiver along her shoulders. She forced a little laugh. “I smell like the road I came in on.”

“You smell good to me.”

He smelled good to her, too. A mixture of perspiration, sun and a woodsy scent that didn’t come from a bottle. All male.

She sucked in a breath, then stabbed his arm with the syringe and dispensed all the painkiller, for both their sakes. He relaxed noticeably. Nikki leaned down to hold his eye open to check the pupil.

The man had a high level of concentrated pigment in the iris—in other words, his were the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

“It sure is nice to have women around,” he slurred. “It’s been a long…long time.”

“So you said, Mr. Armstrong,” she murmured, then leaned over to check his other eye, satisfied the medicine was doing its job.

“Porter,” he whispered.

Suddenly his hand reached up to clasp her neck, and before she realized what was happening, he’d pulled her mouth down on his for a long, wet kiss.

5

Nikki lost her balance and fell against Porter’s chest. In those few seconds, she wished she wasn’t a doctor and this man wasn’t her patient, because it was…a…very…good…kiss. His lips were firm, his tongue seeking. Unbidden, fire streaked through her chest, and an alien sensation—lust?—flowered in her midsection. The realization made her stiffen. The man was sex-starved and under sedation.

She planted her hands against his chest and pushed hard to escape his embrace. “Mr. Armstrong, let go of me,” she said, although her voice sounded breathy and weak, even to her own ears.

“Porter!” Marcus shouted from the door. When Nikki turned to see both the older Armstrong brothers charging toward them, she realized they’d returned and witnessed the kiss. By the time the men had reached them, though, Porter had released her and his head lolled to the side. He was out cold.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Salinger,” Kendall said. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but she was still shaken—more by her reaction to the kiss than the kiss itself. After Darren’s betrayal, she’d promised herself she’d be immune to the charms of men, yet here she was trembling like a virgin.

“My little brother has the manners of a mule,” Marcus said, his voice thick with disgust.

“It’s probably the medication,” she murmured, trying to gather herself, but not succeeding. She pressed her fingers to her mouth in an attempt to erase the imprint of Porter Armstrong’s lips on hers. Her face burned. The brothers studied her, as if they suspected she might bolt.

Indeed, she was considering it.

“How can we help you?” Kendall asked hopefully.

She touched her hand to her forehead, forcing herself to focus. “His lower leg bone is broken. You can provide some leverage so I can set it.”

With their help, she set the bone relatively quickly and confirmed its position with another X-ray. Then she bathed her patient’s leg and swollen ankle with antiseptic, and wrapped cotton strips from his instep to just below his knee. Next came wet lengths of fiberglass cloth over the cotton, which dried quickly to form the cast. She’d hoped the rote movements would allow her to distance herself from the man she was administering to, but the amazing kiss kept flashing in her mind like a stuttering synapse, and the adhesive mixture made her light-headed. She felt flustered throughout and was never so glad to be finished with a procedure.

But then she had to bathe the scrapes and scratches on his chest and arms, which required even more contact, to areas that were even more…pleasing. Porter Armstrong’s physique was lean, with long, well-developed muscles—a very nice specimen. His pectoralis major and rectus abdominis were particularly appealing, but his deltoids were noteworthy as well. It was nerve-wracking to administer to him under the scrutiny of his two concerned brothers, but at last she was satisfied he wasn’t going to be infected by whatever branches and stones he’d come into contact with during the fall. She snapped off her rubber gloves.

“He’s going to be okay?” Marcus asked.

She smiled. “As far as I can tell, although he should be monitored overnight for a fever or pain that might indicate internal bleeding. He should wake up within an hour or so,” she said, dousing her hands with sanitizing gel. “I saw the water tower driving in. He’s a very lucky man to have sustained such minor injuries from a fall like that.”

Marcus frowned. “One day our little brother is going to push his luck too far.”

Kendall elbowed Marcus, as if he didn’t want him airing family squabbles. “It’s kind of you to do this after such a long day, Dr. Salinger. You must be tired and hungry.”

“I am,” she admitted.

“The men are planning a barbecue tonight in the meadow to welcome our guests,” Marcus said. “We hope you’ll come.”

After her unsettling encounter with Porter Armstrong, she needed some time alone to assess her decision to come to Sweetness. In hindsight, she hadn’t thought through the emotional ramifications of picking up and moving across several states to literally build a practice from scratch. And from the conversation she’d overheard earlier, it seemed as if everyone in Sweetness wouldn’t be exactly welcoming of her services. She was starting to think she wasn’t ready for a fresh start—not in a place where it seemed her ego was doomed to take a beating.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’m going to skip the barbecue and get settled in for the night.”

“We saved one of the nicer rooms for you,” Kendall said, his voice eager. He handed her a key with the number 225.

“Your bags have been carried up,” Marcus added.

Both of them were looking at her like hopeful little boys.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to freshen up, then I’ll be back to check on your brother. He seems like the type who will fight coming out from under the sedation. You should stay with him so he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“We will,” Kendall said. “Thank you, Dr. Salinger.”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Salinger,” Marcus said, pumping her hand. “I can’t tell you how happy we are that Sweetness has a physician.”

Nikki wet her lips. “I heard some men talking earlier about a Dr. Riley?”

“Riley Bates,” Kendall said. “He’s not a doctor. He gives the men home remedies for minor ailments.”