Christy Jeffries - The Maverick's Christmas To Remember

She’d fallen asleep again during the procedure, but Dr. Robinson assured him that it was pretty normal for a concussed patient to doze off occasionally and that resting could actually help her brain heal. As long as Caroline’s pupils weren’t dilated and she could hold a conversation when she was awake, she was supposedly fine.

By the time they finally got her admitted and assigned to a room, it was getting close to dinnertime and Craig was starving. When she’d confessed that she’d never stayed overnight in a hospital, she’d looked so scared, so frail.

The main goal was to keep her from getting stressed or putting any more strain on her traumatized brain. However, in order to keep his wits about him and do that, he also needed to eat something. Although, what kind of fake fiancé would he be if he sneaked off while she was sleeping to go down to the cafeteria to get some dinner?

Looking around for a pad of paper so he could leave a note, his eyes landed on her ridiculously huge purse sitting in the corner of the room. He had saddlebags smaller than that thing and never understood why some women insisted on hauling everything they owned all around town with them. If he were a betting man, he’d place odds that she had plenty of paper and at least several pens in the thing. The problem was, there was no way to look inside without feeling like he was invading her privacy.

Rubbing a hand through his close-cropped hair, he asked himself for the thousandth time today, “How in the hell did you get yourself into this situation?”

“What was that?” Caroline’s sleepy voice was deep and husky, a stark contrast to her delicate and feminine looks. It was also as arousing as anything he’d ever heard before.

“I was just wondering where I could find a pen and paper.”

Her sigh came from the back of her throat. “I always carry some in my purse.”

“Yeah, I assumed as much but it didn’t seem right snooping through your things when you’re sound asleep.”

“It wouldn’t be considered snooping since I don’t have any secrets from you.” Clearly, her mind was way too fragile to grasp the magnitude of just how many secrets they actually had since they didn’t know the first thing about each other. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “Are you always this proper around me?”

“I...uh...I guess I’m just a proper type of guy.” Or a guy who was simply way out of his element.

She studied him in the dim glow of the room, the sun fading outside the window. He rocked back on his boot heels and looked over his shoulder at the door. They should probably keep that open so nobody got the wrong idea about what was going on in this private room. And since when did hospitals have private rooms?

When Craig had surgery after his second clavicle fracture, he’d been stuck in traction next to an old man who used to confuse the emergency call button for the television remote. The volume on the evening news would go up every time the man didn’t get his bedpan in time. If Caroline had a roommate like that, Craig wouldn’t have to worry about that electric current charging through his body every time she turned those pretty eyes his way.

“Why did you need paper and a pen?” Caroline asked, and Craig turned back to her.

“Oh. I thought about grabbing a bite to eat downstairs and wanted to leave you a note in case you woke up and I wasn’t here.”

“So, you’re both proper and thoughtful.” Her full lips turned up at the corners, but her questioning gaze remained steadily fixed on him, as though she were awaiting more discoveries about him. “I’m starving.”

“The doctor cleared you to eat after she got the radiology report and there was nothing to indicate you needed immediate surgery. They delivered a tray for you earlier,” he said, wheeling the small table over to her bed. “I think it’s meat loaf.”

She lifted a plastic cover off the plate and crinkled her pert little nose at the cold gray lump underneath. “I’m missing part of my memory, not my taste buds. Since you’re going to the cafeteria, would you mind bringing me something from there instead?”

“Sure.” He replaced the lid and moved the offending plate out of the way. “What do you want?”

“Anything. Surprise me.”

Crap. He’d walked right into that trap. Craig eyed her small frame and couldn’t even begin to guess what kind of food she ate. Obviously, it wasn’t his preferred meal of steak and potatoes because she looked like a strong wind would blow her away before the next winter storm. For all he knew, she was one of those women who constantly monitored every calorie in order to keep her waist so tiny.

“Maybe a salad?” he suggested because he got the impression that she didn’t maintain her lithe shape by being a hearty eater.

“Ugh, no.” Caroline stuck out her tongue and made a gagging sound. “I hate vegetables. Except for french fries.”

“I don’t think french fries count as a vegetable.”

“They’re from potatoes, right?” Caroline’s voice held a trace of laughter.

“Fine. I’ll get you some french fries. How about a double bacon cheeseburger to go with that?” he offered, trying to match her playful tone but sounding more facetious.

“Mmm. That sounds perfect,” she replied, and he did a double take at her flat stomach under the hospital gown. Where was she going to put all that food? “Oh, and if they have onion rings, I’ll take a side of those, too. See, there’s another vegetable I eat.”

Apparently, her food preferences aligned more with a growing teenage boy than a consummate dieter. “Something to drink?”

“Strawberry milkshake, if they have it. If not, I’ll just take a large orange soda. Oh, and a tapioca pudding. When I was ten, my dad had gallbladder surgery and I remember his hospital had the absolute best tapioca pudding in the world.”

He tilted his head and wondered how she could remember a thing like the tapioca pudding she’d eaten when she was a kid, but not be able to remember that she’d never laid eyes on him before today.

When he didn’t respond right away, her face turned a charming shade of pink and she pointed toward her purse. “Um, I have money in my wallet. I know it’s kind of a big order and I’m not sure how we usually split costs—”

“I’m not taking your money,” he interrupted loudly before she insulted him by implying that he’d let the woman he was marrying reimburse him for a meal. Not that he was actually marrying her. He ran a hand through his hair and lowered his voice. “I was just trying to figure out how to carry it all back to the room. Never mind. Don’t worry about it. I’ll hijack one of these tray tables or a wheelchair or something to push it on.”

“Okay, then,” she replied, not seeming to pick up on his sarcasm, or at least choosing to ignore it. “Can you hand me my cell phone before you leave? I should probably let my parents know what happened.”

“Josselyn said she looked for your phone back at the office but only saw your purse.”

“I don’t suppose you have my parents’ numbers in your contact list.” She gnawed her lower lip, but Craig was saved from responding—as well as from staring at her sexy mouth—when she added, “Actually, they’re probably out of cell range if my mom is still with the Khasi tribe. I’ll just send them an email tomorrow.”

“The Khasi tribe?”

“Yes. I’m sure she told you all about her latest research trip. Wait. You’ve met my parents, haven’t you?”

“Uh, not in person. At least, not yet.” There, that should be ambiguous enough. After all, Josselyn mentioned her folks were out of the country so it was plausible that he might’ve talked to them on the phone or via a video chat. Not that Craig knew the first thing about video chatting.