Robin Gianna - The Spanish Duke's Holiday Proposal

“There are a pair of women’s sweatpants on my bed for you. It’s the best I could do.”

“Anything is better than walking down the street with only one pants leg,” she said, feeling a little strange about wearing pants that had presumably belonged to a lover of his, but she didn’t have much choice. “I’ll get dressed, then out of your hair.”

Finally respectably covered up, she swiped on a little lipstick, still feeling oddly jittery as she went back to his living room.

“Thanks again for letting me get pulled together here. I guess I’ll see you around the hospital sometime.”

“Are you feeling all right?” The way he was carefully looking at her made her wonder what he was seeing. “Not stressed or odd about having concrete showering down on you, wondering if it was going to get worse? It’s okay if you do. Even after regularly being in harm’s way, plenty of people suffer emotional aftereffects from it.”

“Well, as you pointed out, it’s pretty much my own fault for going in there to begin with. Makes you think about how quickly things can happen, doesn’t it? I see the results of bad accidents in the hospital every day, but somehow I never think about it happening to me.”

“So next time promise you’ll stay put and get someone trained in search and rescue.”

“I’m hoping there’s no ‘next time.’ But I can’t promise—I took an oath to help sick or injured people, and if I have to put myself in harm’s way, I’m going to do it.”

“Yep, a very stubborn woman.” A small smile curved his lips even as he shook his head in exasperation. “Just be sure to take care of yourself, and if you start to have bad dreams or flashbacks, talk to someone about it.”

“Don’t worry, I really am fine. But thanks.” Maybe he thought she sounded stubborn and brave, but the truth was, she fervently hoped she never came across another situation like that in her life. “I do have vacation time coming up this week. I’m planning to get out of the city, do something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Still figuring that out.” The main reason to go away was so she didn’t have to be at the big Thanksgiving family gathering at the Davenports’. She shoved her hand toward his, and his warm one engulfed hers. “Goodbye, and thanks again.”

The way she rushed out of his apartment probably made him wonder if she really did have some post-traumatic stress going on, but she couldn’t worry about that. She had enough to worry about.

Like what she was going to do with her week off, and why she’d had a sudden, astonishing urge to ask Mateo Alves to join her.

CHAPTER THREE

THE CHILD’S PIERCING shrieks would have unnerved even the most hardened EMT, and Mateo stepped up the pace to get her into the ER fast. Based on what the father had told him when he’d picked the wailing child up off the sidewalk, it seemed unlikely she had an internal injury. No blood, no visible head injury, no misshapen limb told him it probably wasn’t extremely serious. But because he couldn’t know for sure, that’s why they were heading to the hospital—to check out the possibilities then go from there.

The anxious father had agitatedly told him the story of how the three-year-old girl had been sitting on his shoulders as they’d walked through the crowds. The dad hadn’t expected his daughter to suddenly lunge sideways to get a better look at a toy store’s glittering Christmas window display, and he’d lost his grip on her legs.

“I just couldn’t catch her all the way, you know?” the father repeated as Mateo and the other EMT lifted the stretcher out of the ambulance. “I partially broke her fall to the sidewalk, but I’m so scared she might be really hurt.”

“I know it’s scary,” Mateo said in a calm voice he hoped would keep the poor guy from hyperventilating. “But Manhattan Mercy’s ER docs are the best so, whatever’s going on, they’ll figure it out. Try not to worry.”

The man nodded and gulped in some air, and Mateo turned to his patient. “Almost there, Emily,” he said, giving the girl an encouraging smile. “Soon the doctors will figure out why you’re hurting and get you something for your pain, okay?”

“What do you think is wrong?” the girl’s father asked. Apparently, Mateo’s attempts to reassure him weren’t working. His voice was panicky, and his knuckles were white as he hung onto the gurney Mateo propelled through the ER’s doorway. “It...it didn’t look like she hit her head, but I couldn’t tell for sure, you know?”

“Her vital signs are normal, other than an accelerated heart rate, probably caused by pain. I’m guessing it’s not anything major, but we’ll have the doctor take a look.” Hopefully, whoever the doctor was would do a better job calming the dad than he’d managed to accomplish.

A nurse sent them to an exam room, and when a white-coated doctor with chin-length brown hair appeared in Mateo’s peripheral vision, he knew it was Miranda Davenport before he’d even looked up. As if he’d somehow sensed it was her, and how strange was that? Also strange that he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face just from seeing her again.

“Hi,” Miranda said with a sweet smile as she came to lean over the child and give her a comforting pat. “What’s going on?”

“Three-year-old girl fell from her dad’s shoulders onto the sidewalk.” Mateo began his report as he unbuckled her from the gurney. Being careful to not jostle her, he gently moved her to the bed. “Ambulatory at the scene. Heart rate one twenty, BP ninety over fifty. Her name is Emily, and this is her father.”

“What do you think, Doctor?”

The man’s anxious eyes stared at Miranda, and Mateo decided that the professional but still warm smile she gave him would have had anyone breathing slightly easier. “We’re about to find out,” Miranda said as she turned that smile to Emily. “I know you’re hurting, but can you be brave for me? Just like the princess here always is?”

Miranda tapped the sticker of a glittery cartoon princess she had attached to her name badge, and, remarkably, the child nodded and hiccupped as her crying lessened a little.

“Wow, you really are brave, like her! So, can you tell me where you hurt?”

The child waved her left hand toward the right side of her body, and Miranda moved her hands gently over Emily’s head, then her arms and torso. Her careful fingers slowly went to touch Emily’s neck, and Mateo instantly saw the swelling forming there. The child shrieked again, and Miranda lifted her head, her gaze meeting Mateo’s for a long moment before moving on to the child’s father.

“It looks like she has a fractured clavicle. See the bulge here on her collar bone? That might not sound like good news since she’s hurting so much, but it’s a comparatively simple injury that will heal well on its own. We’ll get her pain meds right away to make her comfortable, then an X-ray to confirm the diagnosis. But I’m sure that’s what the problem is.”

That smile, her quick diagnosis, her ability to calm the child and her father, and the utter confidence illuminating her amazing blue eyes, all wrapped up in what Mateo knew was a hell of an attractive body, were one irresistible package.

“Thank God it’s nothing super-bad,” Emily’s father said, swiping his hand across his brow. “What can you do for it? My wife is probably gonna kill me. I really need to know what to tell her when she calls me back.”

“We’ll get her a sling called a clavicle strap to keep her arm and shoulder from moving as it heals. And you can tell your wife that it’s very common for young children to fracture their clavicles, sometimes even from a simple fall in their own homes. So she’s actually a pretty tough cookie, aren’t you, Emily?”