Anna Sugden - A Perfect Trade

“Any news?” he asked.

“None.” Despite her flat tone, the tremor in Jenny’s voice betrayed her emotions. “They’re running tests. They said it would be a while.”

“Okay. Well, you’d expect that with a suspected stroke.”

She nodded without taking her eyes off the doors.

Unsure what to say to ease her haunted expression, Tru sat beside her.

“You don’t have to wait,” she said stiffly. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”

“I won’t leave you here alone.” He braced himself for her protest, but it never came. Instead, she nodded again and kept staring straight ahead.

The E.R. doors swished open.

Jenny jerked at the sound, her gaze flying expectantly to the nurse who’d appeared. When her name wasn’t called, Jenny’s shoulders drooped and she slumped back in her chair. After a few minutes, she pulled herself rigidly upright and the vigil began again.

The cycle of anticipation and disappointment was repeated many times over the next hour. Each time, Jenny’s face grew paler and her body took a few moments longer to recover.

Each time, his chest squeezed a little tighter.

Tru hated feeling useless. At least on that terrible night years ago—when she’d finally admitted she was being abused—he’d been able to hold her, so the warmth and strength in his touch would comfort her.

Now all he could do was watch with her, and wait.

The depth of her emotional reaction made him wonder what the deal was with Harry. Jenny had worked for him since she was eighteen, but she acted as if they were really close. Like family. Like a lover?

Was Jenny sleeping with her boss?

Jenny’s personal life is none of your damn business. Hadn’t been for years. Yet the thought of her sleeping with the older man made Tru’s stomach turn.

“Jenny Martin?” A nurse’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Jenny jolted. She leaped up and rushed over to the woman in green scrubs waiting by the E.R. doors.

Tru rose to follow her then hesitated. Jenny wouldn’t want him with her.

“Go.” His mom nudged him. “She shouldn’t hear the news alone.”

Jenny didn’t acknowledge his presence when he joined her.

“Let’s go over here.” The nurse led them to some chairs at one side of the waiting room.

“How is Harry doing?” Jenny asked anxiously.

“His vital signs are strong, but he hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

“Do you know why?”

“They’re still doing tests and it may be some time before they have an answer,” she said. “We’d like to admit Mr. Sturridge for observation. Could you help with the paperwork?”

“Of course.”

At that moment, a too-thin redhead in a figure-hugging green dress and matching spiked heels rushed into the waiting room. Tru recognized the type—rich, spoiled, nervous wreck.

She spotted Jenny and hurried across the room. Her expensive perfume preceded her; its cloying spiciness didn’t mix comfortably with the antiseptic smell. “Harry Sturridge. Where’s my father? What’s happening?” she wailed.

Before the nurse could answer, a man sauntered through the entrance and came over to join them. His deliberately rumpled linen suit and just-rolled-out-of-bed hairstyle marked him as the nervous wreck’s brother.

His sister collapsed into his arms with a loud sob. “I’m so glad you’re here, Irving. I don’t know what to do. Poor Daddy.”

“Who’s in charge around here?” he demanded, as he patted his sister on the back. “I want the best specialist looking after my father. Isn’t Dominic Watson on staff here? Tell him I want him to be personally responsible for my father’s care.”

“Your father is already receiving the best care,” the nurse replied briskly.

“Good. We can afford whatever’s necessary, starting with your best private room.”

“Oh, yes. Daddy must be settled as quickly as possible.” Felicia nodded.

Tru pitied Jenny’s boss. Hell, if these two were his kids, he’d have had a stroke just to get away from them.

The nurse patiently went through Harry’s status again. “Perhaps, as you’re next of kin, you’d prefer to handle the paperwork for his admission.”

Felicia fluttered her hands, looking panicked. “I couldn’t.”

“Good God, no. That’s what she’s here for.” Irving arched an eyebrow at Jenny. “That is what a personal assistant is supposed to do, isn’t it?”

Irritation spiked at the crude insinuation, despite Tru’s own questions about Jenny’s relationship with her boss only minutes earlier. He waited for Jenny to lambaste the man. She’d cut some of the biggest stars in the National Hockey League off at the knees for less, slicing through their egos like a sushi chef with fresh tuna.

But Jenny said nothing. She stood there, staring at Irving. The white knuckles of her clenched fists, hanging by her sides, were the only sign she was bothered by Irving’s gibe.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she letting him walk all over her?

“Your father would be in the morgue, if it wasn’t for Jenny’s fast action,” Tru snapped.

Sturridge’s daughter gasped.

Irving cast his gaze lazily over Tru. “Don’t tell me you brought one of your hockey hulks with you, Jenny?” His lip curled. “Can’t you do without them for one afternoon?”

Jenny’s hand whipped out and grabbed Tru’s arm as he curled his fingers into a fist. With surprising strength, she prevented him from smashing the arrogant ass’s nose.

For the first time since her boss had collapsed in the drugstore, she morphed into the haughty ice queen he was used to. “Show the hospital and your father some respect.”

The younger man flushed. “You little tramp. I’ll show you...”

The nurse cleared her throat. “Mr. Sturridge, please lower your voice. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll ask security to escort you from the premises.”

Before Irving could respond, his sister stopped him. “Daddy wouldn’t like it.” She turned to the nurse. “When can we see our father?”

“You’ll have to wait until we’ve completed our tests and he’s in his room.” The nurse kept her tone professional. “Take a seat and I’ll come for you when we’re ready.” She smiled at Jenny. “Ms. Martin, if you’d follow me.”

“Why does she get to go with you?” Felicia whined.

“You wanted me to handle the forms,” Jenny said stiffly. “If you’d rather...”

“Oh...no.” Felicia shook her head quickly.

“Just get it done.” Irving stalked over to an empty seat, followed by his sister.

Jenny turned to Tru. Her expression softened fractionally. “I appreciate your help, but you don’t need to hang around. This may take a while. I can get a cab home.”

“No way.” His tone brooked no argument. “I’ll wait and give you a ride.”

This time, her hesitation was brief. “Okay. Thanks. Hopefully, I won’t be too long.”

Her half smile hit him square in the chest. His next breath hurt, as though he’d bruised a rib. Damn. Some things never changed.

As Jenny followed the nurse through the E.R. doors, Tru returned to his mom and told her the score. “I can take you home, then come back for Jenny.”

“Don’t be silly. I want to wait for Jenny, to see if everything’s all right.” She frowned at him. “Are you feeling okay?”

Tru realized he was rubbing the center of his chest. “I’m fine. A little hungry,” he lied.

“I’ll make you something to eat when we get home. I have stew in a pot, waiting to be fired up.”

“Heated up, Ma.” He grinned.

“Heated, fired. It’s the same, no?” She shrugged. “Still tastes good.”

“Sure. Sounds great.”