The Spanish Duke's Holiday Proposal
Robin Gianna
Temporary Christmas fiancée – to future duchess!When paramedic Mateo Alves unexpectedly becomes heir to his family’s dukedom, he’s asked to return home. But Mateo loves his New York career. So when sparks fly between him and beautiful ER doc Miranda Davenport he sees a way to appease his family over the holidays…Miranda can’t believe she’s agreed to be Mateo’s temporary fiancée but as love-child to the head of the wealthy Davenports she knows all about troubled families. Can a magical Spanish Christmas together bring them both the happiness and belonging they deserve?Christmas in ManhattanAll the drama of the ER, all the magic of Christmas!
Temporary Christmas fiancée—to future duchess!
When paramedic Mateo Alves unexpectedly becomes heir to his family’s dukedom, he’s asked to return home. But Mateo loves his New York career. So when sparks fly between him and beautiful ER doc Miranda Davenport, he sees a way to appease his family over the holidays...
Miranda can’t believe she’s agreed to be Mateo’s temporary fiancée, but as love child to the head of the wealthy Davenports, she knows all about troubled families. Can a magical Spanish Christmas together bring them both the happiness and belonging they deserve?
Christmas in Manhattan
All the drama of the ER,
all the magic of Christmas!
A festive welcome to Manhattan Mercy ER—a stone’s throw from Central Park in the heart of New York City. Its reputation for top-notch healthcare is eclipsed only by the reputation of the illustrious, wealthy Davenport family and the other dedicated staff who work there!
With snow about to blanket New York over Christmas, ER Chief Charles Davenport makes sure his team is ready for the drama and the challenge…but when it comes to love, a storm is brewing such as theyve never seen before!
Available now:
Sleigh Ride with the Single Dad
by Alison Roberts
A Firefighter in Her Stocking
by Janice Lynn
The Spanish Duke’s Holiday Proposal
by Robin Gianna
Aristocratic paramedic Mateo Alves needs a temporary fiancée, but will he be able to let Dr Miranda Davenport go when the holiday is over?
The Rescue Doc’s Christmas Miracle
by Amalie Berlin
Risk-taking air ambulance paramedic Penny Davenport has a secret to tell her partner, the cautious, wary Dr Gabriel Jackson—she’s pregnant with his child!
And coming soon:
Christmas with the Best Man
by Susan Carlisle
Navy Doc on Her Christmas List
by Amy Ruttan
Dear Reader (#u808baae1-5595-552b-b227-872da71932ae),
It’s always a pleasure to get to work with other authors on a continuity like this one! The Davenport siblings are certainly interesting, with challenging dynamics and a few family struggles, but they all eventually get their happily-ever-afters. :)
I love it that the editors set my story mostly in Spain. I enjoy researching interesting places, and Spain was no exception. One thing that surprised me is that there really are a large number of dukedoms in the country!
This is the first book I’ve written with the fake engagement trope, which was fun.
ER doctor Miranda Davenport agrees to help Mateo with the ruse—partly because her life history has made her a people-pleaser, and also because she knows what it’s like to feel as if you might not live up to your family’s expectations. Mateo Alves, EMT and member of the Spanish nobility, thinks Miranda is just the woman to stand up to his parents. They’re pushing him to move back home, marry, and take over running the family estate, but he wants to keep his life in New York City. Then he finds out that Miranda might be a great doctor, but her toughness and confidence are a veneer she puts on to cover her vulnerabilities—and he’s placed her in a situation that reminds her of past pain in her life.
Mateo and Miranda help each other reconcile their pasts and see that the things they’ve always believed about their roles in their families aren’t entirely true. They’ve both held close to a deep conviction that they’ve never measured up, and by seeing each other carrying this false belief they learn to let go.
Robin xoxo
The Spanish Duke’s Holiday Proposal
Robin Gianna
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
After completing a degree in journalism, then working in advertising and mothering her kids, ROBIN GIANNA had what she calls her ‘awakening’. She decided she wanted to write the romance novels she’d loved since her teens, and now enjoys pushing her characters towards their own happily-ever-afters. When she’s not writing, Robin’s life is filled with a happily messy kitchen, a needy garden, a wonderful husband, three great kids, a drooling bulldog and one grouchy Siamese cat.
Books by Robin Gianna
Mills & Boon Medical Romance
Royal Spring Babies
Baby Surprise for the Doctor Prince
The Hollywood Hills Clinic
The Prince and the Midwife
Midwives On-Call at Christmas
Her Christmas Baby Bump
Flirting with Dr. Off-Limits
It Happened in Paris…
Her Greek Doctor’s Proposal
Reunited with His Runaway Bride
Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
I’d like to dedicate this book to wonderful fellow medical author Amalie Berlin, who helped me brainstorm parts of this story and was always there when I needed to wail about the struggles I had pulling it together. Thanks for always being there, Amalie! xoxo
A big thanks to Dr Meta Carroll for helping me with the medical scenes in this book, per usual! Meta, you are the best! xoxo
Contents
Cover (#u5f27f0a0-7072-5a08-aa68-112f27128f75)
Back Cover Text (#u2572107b-df78-5c1a-bedb-89d48ad47807)
Introduction (#ue7ab492d-3dad-51a0-bb8c-6f3f2cd40a0a)
Dear Reader (#u7580a898-787c-5ae1-9208-c615bbd4dce4)
Title Page (#ud50b3251-f44d-5200-bdb2-60baa3260543)
About the Author (#u7580a898-787c-5ae1-9208-c615bbd4dce4)
Dedication (#u42e677c0-eca6-5875-a5ba-1e3025eb79c3)
CHAPTER ONE (#uee2a5d3c-0d9b-55f1-bb6d-2e3b0254c60e)
CHAPTER TWO (#uefa76ad2-ffb7-5618-adbb-085e3bf79f9b)
CHAPTER THREE (#ueee65251-a071-594d-b24a-806988652d11)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u808baae1-5595-552b-b227-872da71932ae)
FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, can’t you go any faster?
Since it was obvious the massive traffic jam made that impossible, Miranda Davenport bit her lip to keep from exclaiming exactly that. Her cab driver seemed as frustrated as she was, not being able to move more than a few feet at a time as the minutes ticked by, and no amount of impatience by either one of them was going to help her get to the hospital sooner. Even from several blocks away, the blue and red strobe-like flashes from multiple emergency vehicles covered the street, jammed so heavily with cars that could only inch along every five minutes or so.
“Subway tunnel collapse must be bad. Hope it isn’t a terrorist attack,” her cab driver said.
“Yeah. Me, too.” The thought of the subway tunnel collapse being done by terrorists made Miranda shiver, but she also knew that sometimes things like that happened from structural decay, and prayed that was the case this time. She also prayed there wouldn’t be too many casualties, and she clenched her teeth with impatience because it might be critically important for her to get to the hospital ASAP. Excruciatingly long minutes ticked by until she couldn’t stand sitting there any longer.
“Listen, I think I’m going to get out and walk from here.” It was still quite a few blocks to the hospital and her trek home had proved that winter had decided to arrive in New York City with a vengeance. But sitting here barely moving felt torturous when the Manhattan Mercy ER might well be swamped with patients, and they’d called her back, anticipating the worst.
“Hang on a few more minutes, lady. Let me see what I can do.”
Like so many of the drivers whose vehicles filled the street, her cabbie honked his horn, and Miranda nearly clamped her hands to her ears at the cacophony. Growing up in Chicago then living in New York City for the past thirteen years meant the sound of car horns usually faded into the background. But after being stuck in the middle of this traffic mess for the past half-hour, it was starting to give her the mother of all headaches. Or maybe her headache was from not enough sleep after the twelve-hour shift she’d just worked in the ER, not expecting a catastrophe to bring her back before she was even home.
The cab managed to move a couple feet before the driver laid on the horn again, and Miranda knew the poor guy was going to be creeping along in this traffic for a long time. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get to the hospital. Thanks for bringing me this far. Here’s extra for your trouble.” Never having had that “extra” in her younger life was something she’d never forget, and even after all this time it felt good to be able to share the wealth. She shoved a fold of cash through the window to the front seat, then opened her door to exit right in the middle of the street. Not that dodging between stopped cars to the sidewalk brought any risk to life and limb at that moment.
The frigid air sneaking down her neck felt practically sub-zero, and she grabbed her coat collar, ducked her head down against the wind, and hurried toward the hospital. Good thing she had on the comfortable shoes she always wore to work, and her strides ate up the pavement fairly quickly until she came to the dust particles filling the air. Then she stared in shock at the yawning hole where the pavement had collapsed in the street, the subway tracks clearly visible below. Her heart tripped into double-time as she watched numerous firefighters and paramedics running in and out of the tunnel. Then she yanked herself out of her shocked stupor, moving closer to see if she could assist.
“You have any patients that need help?” she shouted above the chaos. “I’m—”
“You need to move to the other side of the street!” a paramedic yelled back. “It’s not safe here.”
“I’m an ER doctor, heading to the hospital. Wondering if you need any help here.”
“No. We’re doing okay. Thanks, but you need to move on.”
“Can you tell me how many injured the hospital might be dealing with?”
“Right now, looks like not a lot. The collapse was only in a small area, and not many people were waiting for the train there.” He swiped a grimy gloved hand against his forehead. “Unless something else happens, we’re hoping for minimal victims. Right now we’re focusing on shoring up the tunnel as we search to see who else might be down there.”
The air Miranda sucked into her lungs in cautious relief was cold and full of the nasty dust, and she coughed. “Okay. Good luck, and be careful in there.”
She pulled her scarf up over her mouth and moved away from the hole to hurry on to the hospital, only to be stopped by police officers who were setting up orange barriers on the sidewalk, insisting she cross over to the other side of the street.
About to argue and tell them her mission, she decided to just do as they asked. There were hardly any pedestrians on the other sidewalk to impede her progress, so she’d be able to walk faster anyway. As she moved across the barricaded street, a sound caught her ears. Something that sounded like someone crying out in the distance, and she stopped, straining to hear. Another faint cry had her heart pumping faster, and she hurried around the barricade in the street to see what was making the sound, abruptly stopping at the sight. Had no one seen this other, small collapse in the pavement? Dust swirled up from a virtual stepping stone of concrete and asphalt, leading down into the darkness.
Had the first responders been so focused on the large collapse that they hadn’t discovered it yet? Did they know someone was in there?
She swung around to get the attention of one of the police officers, but they’d moved too far away to hear her. Heart beating in triple-time, she windmilled her arms to get the attention of the firefighters and paramedics, but in the midst of everything going on, nobody noticed a lone woman in a black coat waving at them. It probably didn’t help that this hole was a good block away from them now.
Would she lose precious time trying to get help? Her heart jerked at the thought of going down into that tunnel, but she had to do something, right? Whoever was in there might be injured, and surely the paramedics would see this small hole any minute. The question was, would they arrive too late, when she was there right now?
Miranda battled down the fear that rose in her throat as she fished in her purse for the small but bright flashlight she always kept there. Stumbling a little, she picked her way through chunks of asphalt and concrete as quickly as she could, leaning over to place her free hand on the jagged lumps to steady herself as she descended beneath the street. The farther down she went, the harder her heart pounded, finally leaving the light of day completely behind her as she headed into the flat darkness.
She peered through the dark, fighting a slightly panicky feeling of claustrophobia. But she was here now, and she’d never forgive herself for being cowardly and climbing back up when, for all she knew, someone could be dying down here.
“Hello? Anyone there? Are you okay? Do you need help?”
A moan and a shout she couldn’t understand came back, which sent adrenaline surging through her blood.
“Hang on! I’m a doctor. I can help if you’re hurt.”
No answer this time. Moving through the rubble wasn’t easy, and she felt beyond frustrated at how hard it was to see through the fine silt filling the tunnel beneath the street, swirling up as occasional small bits of rubble fell from the ceiling. Where were the victims in this mess, and how far inside could they be?
The dust made it hard to breathe, and she coughed, pulling the scarf looped around her neck up to cover her mouth again. Not to mention that she was short of breath from the worry of who might be trapped and if she could help at all. And, oh, yeah, the idea that the whole street might come crashing down was just a tad unnerving. She tripped a few times, until a second beam of light from farther inside the tunnel slashed across her, illuminating the way a little more.
“What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!”
Taken aback by the angry male voice, Miranda stopped in her tracks for a second and didn’t answer. Then she gathered her wits and sent her own flashlight toward the voice as she fired back, “I’m here to see if I can help.”
“Not if this tunnel collapses on you. Get out of here. Right now. Can’t you see it’s dangerous down here? There’s only one injured person, and I’m taking care of him. Last thing I need is someone else getting hurt through her own stupidity.”
Anger joined the adrenaline heating her veins. Who did this guy think he was? Being told what to do was something she’d hated for years, let alone when it was coming from some hero wannabe. She moved forward again, trying to see through the dust and rubble.
“There’s nothing stupid about helping injured people. Where...?” Her flashlight finally landed on two men. One was on the ground, bleeding from his forehead and lying awkwardly on one arm. Even with the lack of light, his pallor told her he was going into shock. The other man was crouched over him, his fingers on the man’s neck, apparently trying to get his pulse rate.
“I’m not going to say it again—you need to leave! For all I know, this could be the work of terrorists, with a chemical attack to follow. I’ve got this guy, and responders will be here any minute.”
The thought of a chemical attack sent a shiver down Miranda’s back, for both herself and anyone else nearby, but she wasn’t going to leave until she knew survivors were taken care of. “Have you seen anyone besides this victim?”
He yanked off his coat, completely ignoring her question. His tone changed so completely when he spoke to the man, its gentle quietness surprised her. “I’m going to move you so I can look at your arm. Try to relax, and don’t help, okay?” He slowly rolled the victim to his back with extreme care, wadding his coat up under the man’s feet to elevate them, obviously knowing how to treat someone going into shock. Then in one fluid movement he pulled his shirt over his head before ripping it into pieces, pressing one section against the man’s forehead. “You hold this against your head wound while I look at your arm.”
“My dog,” the man said on a moan. “Do you see my dog?”
“Remember? I said I’ll look for him after I check you out. And I will, but it’s not going to do your dog any favors to have you go into shock, is it?”
The patient nodded in response. Miranda finally reached them and crouched down. “I’m a doctor. I can help.”
The bossy man paused to look up at her, his eyes meeting hers in an intense stare before he gave her a quick nod. “All right. Hold his arm steady as I get this off.” He pulled a knife from his coat pocket, flipped open the blade, then began quickly and efficiently cutting away the victim’s coat sleeve.
“Got it.” She briefly flashed her light over the victim’s arm, noting the navy-blue sleeve was dark with what was probably blood. She put her flashlight down on the rubble, trying to direct the light toward the man’s arm, before she reached to gently but firmly hold it in place as the rest of the sleeve was cut away.
He paused in his cutting to clamp his flashlight between his teeth so he could use both hands and see at the same time he worked, which made Miranda look more carefully at his shadowed and dirty face. His ridiculously handsome face, which she now realized with a start she’d seen before, and that always made her take an involuntary second and third look. A face that belonged to an EMT she’d often seen in the hospital, bringing in patients.
Trying to remember his name, she was filled with a short rush of relief that she wasn’t alone in this place, trying to deal with this serious injury before figuring out how to get him to the hospital. That the man working on the patient knew what he was doing, and that they could work together as a team.
The way he was leaning over the patient made it hard to see the man, so she stared at the medic’s head instead, tipped downward as he cut away the cloth. She knew his short hair was normally black, but right now gray powder covered both it and his dark brows. More of the silt filtered down onto all three of them, and she swallowed hard, shoving down the fear that skittered down her back again at the thought of being buried alive.
The last of the coat and clothing was cut off, and they were both finally able to see the jaggedly ripped and bleeding flesh of the victim’s forearm. While she couldn’t see the bone beneath it, there was no doubt this was a compound fracture. Which meant the bleeding had to be stopped and the arm stabilized while trying not to jar the broken pieces in the process.
The medic’s eyes met hers, and what she saw there telegraphed loud and clear that he knew as well as she did that if the bones got moved the wrong way, they risked an artery being torn, which would turn a bad situation worse.
He took the flashlight from his teeth and tucked it under his chin. “You still got his arm steady? I’m going to wrap it.”
“Yes. You can let go. I have a book in my purse. We can use it as a splint.”
He glanced up, his intense eyes meeting hers again. “I have a magazine folded in my coat pocket. I’ll use both to stabilize the arm after I get the bleeding stopped, so leave the book, then go.”
Ignoring his comment the way he’d ignored hers earlier, she watched him carefully lay a piece of his shirt on top of the bleeding wound, then lift his hand, apparently planning to press down on it.
“Don’t do that, you’ll dislodge the bones!” she said. “We need to be as careful as possible not to cause further damage. Putting pressure on it isn’t a good idea. A tourniquet is a better option to try first.”
“I realize that a lowly EMT knows little compared to you, Dr. Davenport,” he drawled, emphasizing the word doctor as he continued to work quickly, wrapping a strip of torn shirt around either end of the cloth bandage. “But I know a lot more about field medicine than you do and I have the technique down pat.”
Surprise that he knew her name was quickly replaced by serious annoyance as his nearly amused tone started to really tick her off. She opened her mouth to retort that an ER doctor was fully trained in all kinds of emergencies. Until that emotion and her words dried up fast as she watched the remarkable efficiency and competency he showed as he tied off a makeshift tourniquet, then held the victim’s legs up with one arm as he grabbed his now filthy coat from the ground to pull out a magazine.
All right, she had to admit it, but not to this autocratic male. While she worked hard to be the best doctor she could be, this guy had her beat when it came to this kind of emergency, working without all kinds of medical supplies and the equipment she always had available at her fingertips.
“This is probably going to hurt, so hang on,” he said to the patient. “You doing okay?”
“O-Okay,” the man said on a gasp that turned into a groan as the medic slowly and carefully straightened his arm. He then curved the magazine beneath the man’s elbow.
“Can you—?”
“Yes.” She reached to cup her hands underneath to hold it in place as he worked to secure it with strips of his shirt. The patient moaned, and Miranda leaned closer. “I’m sorry, sir. I know it hurts, but the hospital’s close by. As soon as we get the wound secured, we’ll get you out of here. You’re going to be fine, and getting meds to help with the pain really soon.”
“Where’s that book?” the medic asked, never pausing as he knotted the strips and reached for another.
“Here.” With one hand, she slid her bag from her shoulder and reached in to fish out the book. “I’ll place it under his wrist when you’re done.”
A quick nod as he finished up with the magazine, then suddenly lifted his eyes to hers. The quick grin he sent, along with a smile in that brown gaze, took her totally by surprise, and for some ridiculous reason made her heart beat little harder. Apparently helping him had taken her off his list of highly irritating things. For the moment, at least.
“I’m sorry, I should know, but what’s your name?” she heard herself ask, suddenly needing to know.
“Mateo Alves. This is John, and his dog, Benny, ran in here after the collapse, which is why John came down here in the first place. He’s a fast one for a shorty dog, but I’ll find him. And I already know you’re Miranda Davenport. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, except you shouldn’t have come in here to begin with.”
“Too bad. There’s nothing falling now, so we’re probably safe.” She knew she sounded a little breathless, which was probably due to the silt in the air and not at all to the fact that she’d fantasized about the über-handsome EMT more than once in the ER. During those times, they’d all been busy treating patients, so there hadn’t been time to spend more than a brief moment staring at him, and now wasn’t a good time either. Except she found that, for what felt like a long moment of connection between them, she was staring at him anyway.
“Yeah, well, that could change in one second.”
She glanced up, gulping at that reality. To cover her worries, she threw out a tart response. “Aren’t you going to admit that both of us working on John’s arm has been faster than you doing it alone, and better for him?”
“Maybe.” Another quick flash of teeth.
“I’m going to put the book under his forearm now.”
“Wait. I want to cover the wound better first.”
Her rapt attention on his handsome features was interrupted when he frowned and paused in his work on the wrist splint. She looked down and saw that he’d used every scrap of fabric from his torn shirt.
“Give me your scarf.”
“Oh. That’s a good idea,” she said, wishing she’d thought of it. She slipped it from her neck and handed it to him. “And I can cut the bottoms off my pants, too, if we need them.”
That flash of grin. “What do you think, John? How often do you have a woman offering to rip her clothes off for you?”
“Not often enough.” A weak smile accompanied his words, then disappeared again. “My dog. My Benny. I haven’t heard him bark.”
“Probably too scared to bark. But I have a surefire way to call dogs—you’ll see. Right now, though, we have to get you out of here without jostling your arm any more than necessary. Dr. Davenport?”
“Yes?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you up on the offer of your pants. Don’t worry, I won’t cut any above your knees.” That sexy smile again. “But that fabric is a lot better than my jeans to finish securing the splint, since I’m going to use your scarf as a sling to keep it still.”
“That makes sense.” Of course he’d need a sling, and she thrashed herself that it hadn’t occurred to her. Thank God none of her siblings or father could see her. She’d spent the last thirteen years trying to make them proud of her, to earn their respect, and right now she felt totally inept.
She reached for the knife and pushed the point into the knit material. It went in easily, even as she inwardly cringed at the thought of accidentally jabbing herself in her own calf. And being that kind of wimp proved even more that Mateo was absolutely right—he was definitely better at this field medicine stuff than she was, and she vowed to study it again, maybe even go on some runs with the EMTs to refresh her skills.
But not with Mateo Alves. She’d find someone whose sexy face and body wouldn’t distract her from her training mission.
“Careful. Don’t cut yourself.”
“I know how to use a knife.”
“Do you cut clothes off yourself on a regular basis? Pretty sure that’s harder than cutting a sandwich.”
“Funny.” She struggled to move the knife down through the pants leg without gouging herself in the process, and as she did so heard an impatient sound come from Mateo.
“Let me.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“Yeah? Well, every second is time John isn’t at the hospital for pain meds and treatment, and we’re all still down here.”
“There hasn’t been any debris for a while. Right?” She paused in her cutting to look up at the dark tunnel ceiling again, wishing he’d stop pointing out the possibility of impending collapse.
A snorting humph was his only response as he tugged the knife from her hand and took over, getting it through the cloth in mere seconds, then hacking it off from around her knee before tearing it into strips. For some reason, having the blade so close to her skin didn’t worry her when it was Mateo doing the cutting. Maybe it was because the touch of his fingers on her skin as he moved them down her leg distracted her from being scared. “Rule number one is to get the hell out of any collapsed building ASAP. Which you’re going to do right now, to get a crew down here with a stretcher. I’m surprised someone hasn’t already come in here.”
“Okay.” She knew he was right, that trying to move John, even with his injury splinted and in a sling, would be painful and dangerous if he had to try to walk, especially after all the blood he’d lost. “I’ll be right back.”
“Back?” His focus was on finishing tying the last strip over the book then fashioning a sling from her scarf, but his scowl was most definitely directly at her. “Don’t be stupid. Just tell them where we are.”
And again he was right. Why she was feeling this weird need to actually see both of them make it out, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t needed here, and might well be needed at the hospital. “Okay,” she repeated as she stood, ridiculously feeling a need to brush some of the powdery dirt from her coat. “Since I definitely am not stupid, I’ll see you at—”
“Anybody in here?”
Miranda sagged in relief at the voices and the sight of two bobbing flashlights.
“Back here! About thirty feet. Bring a stretcher,” Mateo called. “Just one victim. No access to the subway platform. He came in because he was trying to get his dog out.”
“Got a stretcher right outside.” In mere moments two medics were there, Mateo helping them get John settled on the stretcher as he shared details of the patient’s condition and treatment. They wore full gear—reflective coats, hard hats, gloves, and various tools dangled from their belts. Which made Miranda wonder, for the first time, why Mateo was in street clothes. Or, actually, at that moment, very few clothes, with his shirt destroyed and his coat still off, and she found herself staring at his wide, muscled chest and broad shoulders.
“Are you off duty?” she asked.
“Yes. I was on my way to the main collapse when I saw John run in after Benny, then get hit by a chunk of concrete.”
“My little dog...” The two men picked up the stretcher, ready to carry him out, and John’s words were bitten off as he moaned.
“You get out of here too, Mateo,” one of the rescuers said. “You’re not equipped. I’ll send some guys in to check for anyone else, just in case, but the good news is that it looks like a structural collapse, nothing else. We’ve got plenty of crew on the scene and if no one else is in here, that means everyone’s out and clear both places. So you can go on home.”
“I have make sure a certain stubborn doctor gets to the hospital first.”
“Tough job you have,” one said, laughing, as they made their way toward daylight.
Miranda bent to casually retrieve her purse and flashlight from the ground, not wanting to show him how eager she was to get the heck out of there now that John was taken care of. Not wanting him to see how she’d been staring at his beautiful body. “You know, I’m not stubborn. It just seemed like I should help if I could, just like you did.”
“It’s my job to run into harm’s way when necessary. Don’t think that’s in your job description. Come on.”
He slid the filthy coat back on over his naked torso, then reached for her elbow. As they stepped over chunks of concrete, Miranda suddenly longed to be outside in the cold air and out of the dark gloom. Which she wouldn’t admit to Mateo for the world. “You don’t need to hold me up. I’m perfectly capable—”
“I just want to get outside, and if you fall and gash open your head we’ll be stuck in here all that much longer.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve made the situation more difficult,” she said, her stomach churning a little that he seemed to still think she’d done exactly that, and what did that make her? A pain in the neck, that’s what, just like her stepmother had told her for years. “I should have thought it through better and gotten a firefighter instead of coming in here myself.”
“Yes, you should’ve. But I have to admire how brave you are. And you were a big help, even though I hate to admit it.”
Even in the darkness she could see the smile in his eyes, which put a warm little glow in her chest and had her smiling back.
“That’s much better than telling me I’m annoying and stubborn,” she said. “You—”
A deep, ground-shaking rumble was followed instantly by sharp cracks and the thud of chunks of concrete hitting the ground. Miranda gasped, instinctively covering her head with her arms, as though that flimsy barrier could protect her in any way, when a heavy weight slammed straight into her.
CHAPTER TWO (#u808baae1-5595-552b-b227-872da71932ae)
MATEO’S HARD BODY took her down like a football linebacker, as he somehow managed to wrap his arms around her before they hit the earth. The sharp pebbles they landed on stabbed and scraped her one bare leg, a bigger chunk of concrete jabbed into her ribs, and her face landed on the hard pillow of Mateo’s muscled forearm before sliding off it into a pile of silty debris.
His weight smashed her down so hard she couldn’t get her mouth clear to breathe, and his body jerked at the same time as he grunted loudly in her ear. Lifting her head half an inch to suck in a chokingly dusty breath, she twisted and pushed at him, blinded by the dirt in her eyes, which sent tears streaming down her cheeks. “Get off! Can’t breathe...”
He didn’t move, and she jabbed her elbow into his ribs, which sent another low grunt into her ear. “Hold still a minute,” he said. “I just took a boulder for you and you’re trying to hurt me more?”
“What?” His weight lifted slightly off her, and she twisted around fully to lie on her back, sucking in deep breaths as she stared up at his grim face. Her hands decided on their own to grab at him, landing inside his coat on his shoulders, clinging, pulling him close. Somehow, she wriggled enough to move her spine off whatever was currently lodged there.
“You okay?”
“I—I’m okay.” She realized that was true, she was fine, possibly only because she had a two-hundred-pound blanket of bone and muscle covering her. “You?”
“Bleeding, but okay. And see? Seems to be all finished,” he said in a ridiculously calm voice. He lifted his gaze to scan the tunnel. “Let’s give this a few more seconds to make sure it’s done, then we’ll get the hell out of here.”
Light silt still showering down in intermittent swishes mingled with his heavy breaths against her lips, and her own fast breathing against his. Their eyes met and held, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the feel of his skin against her palms, the strength of his muscles, the movement of his naked chest against her. The grip she had on his warm shoulders loosened, and her hands moved down his pectorals, smoothing across the soft hair covering them before she realized with dismay what she was doing. Making herself let go, she curled her fingers into her palms to keep from touching him again. Fought the peculiar combination of sensations swirling around her belly that didn’t seem connected to the fear that had consumed her just moments before.
She pulled in another deep breath. What in the world? The two of them were lying in a collapsed tunnel, for heaven’s sake, and it was long past time to get safe.
“I’m...I’m ready,” she said unsteadily. “To leave.”
“Finally?” His lips curved just a little. “Let’s go.”
His big body lifted from hers, and his hands grasped her waist, effortlessly swinging her to her feet. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as they moved quickly out of the tunnel toward the light. Miranda blinked at the brightness of the sky—how had it seemed so gray and gloomy before? The fresh, cold air filled her lungs, sharp and stinging and wonderful. Trembling a little now that the whole thing was over, she tried not to think about how bad it could have turned out, and turned to see Mateo watching her with an odd expression on his face.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Probably, she looked pale and shaken, her pretense of bravery through the situation now shot to heck. “Yes, okay. Thanks for, you know, crushing me with your body so I didn’t get crushed worse by flying debris.”
“You’re welcome. Except I didn’t completely succeed. Your coat is torn.”
She followed his gaze to the large rip in the shoulder seam of her coat, and couldn’t help the little dismayed sound that came from her lips. “Oh, no! I just bought this last month! Must have happened when you tackled me.”
“Better a torn coat than a broken head. Which you would have deserved for not leaving when I asked you to.”
“Not even I deserve a broken head.”
That statement made his lips quirk as he reached out to brush his finger across her dusty eyelids. “You’d better get washed up.”
“Me? You look like a gray-haired old man right now.” Which couldn’t be further from the truth, since no old man had the kind of wide, muscular chest that was mostly bare right in front of her, or flat, rippling abs, or such a chiseled jaw. And because she couldn’t stop looking at him and was enjoying their banter far too much, she forced herself to look away up the sidewalk, pretending to focus on all the emergency equipment and personnel. Then her peripheral vision caught bright red drops of blood splattering on the sidewalk behind his feet.
Wide-eyed, she jerked her attention back to him. “You’re bleeding! Oh, my God.”
“I can tell it’s just a scrape. Maybe a gouge, too, but nothing worse than that.”
“Take off your coat so I can see.”
“I’ll freeze.”
“Better to freeze than die from blood loss.” She pushed at the shoulders of his open coat and, shaking his head and grumbling, he finally slid it off. She turned him around, then stared in dismay at the swollen, raw scrape and shallow puncture wound that was the source of the drops of blood. “For heaven’s sake, you really did take a boulder for me!”
“I’ll live.”
“Does it hurt anywhere else?” She ran her hands across his shoulders and back, wiping off the dusty debris from when he’d had his coat off earlier, looking for other injuries that might not be obvious. “I feel just terrible that I was pushing and jabbing you to get off me when you really were hurt.”
“Like I said, just a scrape. And I’m tough.”
He tried to turn around, but she stopped him. “And you call me stubborn! Just be still a minute.” With her scarf gone, the best she could do to staunch the trickle of blood was a pathetic wad of tissue she scrounged from her coat pocket, pressing it firmly against the bruised indentation as her left hand continued to roam his hard contours and smooth skin.
Abruptly and without warning, he surprised her by turning, her hands moving along with him, and the sight of that manly chest and the feel of his skin and soft hair on her palms had her mesmerized again, touching him the same way she’d touched his back, slowly and thoroughly, though there was clearly no injury on this side of his body.
“You about finished examining me, Doctor?”
Oh, my God. His low rumble made her realize exactly what she’d been doing. Dropping the tissue and yanking her hands back like she’d touched a hot furnace, horrified that she’d practically been fondling the man, she stared up at amused brown eyes.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to, you know, run my hands all over you like that, I was just, um, checking for more injuries, but you seem...” She cleared her throat, utterly mortified. “Fine.”
He gave her a slow smile that said he knew exactly why she’d been touching him, which had been way too softly and leisurely to be considered a medical necessity. Heat flooded her face because, yes, the man was very, very fine and she’d just made an utter fool of herself.
Beyond relieved that he slid his coat back on, she wished with all her heart that he’d button it up, too, so she wouldn’t have to keep finding other things to look at. Like his gorgeous face.
“Thanks for the first aid.” He reached out to gently smooth a finger down her dirty cheek. “You’re a mess. Do you live nearby?”
“No, I live in Brooklyn. But I’ll go to the hospital and use the showers there.”
“Be careful walking—looks like some of the sidewalk has heaved in the collapse.”
He turned and, astonishingly, it looked like he was about to head back inside the collapsed street they’d just come from. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to find John’s dog.”
“What? Surely you’re not going back in there! Or at least get the safety equipment and hard hat on before you do.”
“Unless he somehow got out, it won’t take long. The space beyond where John was injured ends just another thirty-five feet or so back.”
And with that, he disappeared, leaving her with her hands clutched to her chest and her mouth gaping open after him.
What should she do now? Go on to the hospital like she didn’t know the crazy man had gone back into harm’s way? Go tell the first responders that one of their men was insane? She felt bad about John’s poor dog and understood why he’d gone back in for it, but what if the whole ceiling collapsed and neither one of them survived? He should have gotten help before going back in to look for him, and protected himself somehow.
She stood there with various horrible scenarios running through her mind, each worse than the last, making her feel a little woozy. After several minutes ticked by she decided, nearly hyperventilating, that she had to tell someone so that he wouldn’t be in there alone, knocked unconscious by a slab of concrete or buried under a shower of rubble, and just as she was about to rush to one of the fire trucks, an even more dusty Mateo trudged up out of the wreckage. A small dog was tucked into the crook of his elbow like a football, and Miranda wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or yell at him.
She planted her hands on her hips and sucked in a shaky breath. “Are you out of your mind? You had me worried to death!”
“Unnecessary. But when a beautiful woman worries about me, it’s appreciated nonetheless.” He held up what she could now see was a rather chubby dachshund that was probably brown, though it was hard to tell for sure. “Benny likes it, too, don’t you, buddy?” Mateo scratched beneath the dog’s chin, who managed to feebly wag his tail despite his ordeal.
Miranda smoothed her hand across the pup’s back, smearing the dust around, and her fear and desire to yell at Mateo faded into a smile of her own. “He’s so cute. John will be very glad. How in the world did you find him?”
He stuck two fingers into his mouth, and the shrill whistle was so loud it made Benny squirm and Miranda cover her ears.
“Oh, my gosh! That would make me run instead of come to you. And you do realize your hands are filthy.”
“Eating a little dirt is good for one’s immune system, which you surely know, Dr. Davenport.”
“Yes. Well, I already ate my quota of dirt for the day.” Aware of a ridiculous desire to just stand there and talk with him for hours, filthy and cold or not, she managed to remember that she had to see if the hospital had a big patient load after the collapse. “Gotta go. You want me to find John and tell him? What are you going to do with the dog?”
“Take him home. I’ll call the hospital and have them tell John, and he can find someone to come pick him up.”
“That’s...nice of you.” In spite of her best intentions, her eyes kept wandering from the dog to Mateo’s naked chest beneath his coat, remembering how his skin and body had felt, and she decided she’d better get out of there before he could see exactly what she was thinking. “Well...”
Fixated as she was on his handsome face and beautiful physique, she didn’t even hear the chime of her cellphone announcing a text until his finger pointed to her purse. “That your phone?”
“Oh! Yes. Thanks.” Lord, had he noticed her distractedly, ridiculously, staring at his body? Again? She quickly fished in her bag and read the message. “The hospital says they don’t need me. That there aren’t too many injured, they’re sure it wasn’t a terrorist event, and everything’s under control. So that’s good news.”
“It is.”
She lifted her eyes to his brown ones, and something about the way he was looking at her made her chest suddenly feel oddly buoyant. The thought of going to her apartment and being all alone for the rest of the day pushed that air right back out, but she shook it off. When she wasn’t working, didn’t she spend most of her time alone anyway?
“Well, good luck with the dog and all.” She cleared her throat. “See you at the hospital sometime.”
She turned away from that mesmerizing brown gaze and started walking, then realized she’d have to rethink her route, since the subway she usually rode might be out of commission. She pulled up the subway updates on her phone to check which ones were running and which weren’t, when a large, dirty hand rested on her forearm to stop her in her tracks.
“So where are you going?” Mateo asked.
“Brooklyn. My subway might be open but if not, I’ll just take a taxi.”
“In this mess? It’ll take you hours.”
And wasn’t that the truth? The clogged-up traffic looked even worse than when she’d left the taxi. “Then I’ll go to the hospital after all.”
“Do you have a friend or boyfriend who lives close enough to walk to their place?”
“No boyfriend, and most of my family live on the Upper East Side.”
“I live just a couple of blocks from here. You might as well come with me and Benny and get cleaned up there. I probably have pants that’ll fit you that you could wear home.”
She’d hardly be surprised if a man as hunky as Mateo Alves had clothes women had left at his place, but she wasn’t about to wear any of them. “Thanks, but no. I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself. Walking ten blocks to the hospital, covered with dirt, wearing a torn coat and pants with one bare leg exposed in this cold, is going to feel very uncomfortable.” An indifferent shrug made her wonder why he was even asking. “And if you can ride the subway, people will think you’re homeless and want to sit far away from the strangely dusty woman with ripped clothes. Or offer you money.”
She had to laugh at that, but as she looked down at herself, she realized he was right. Not to mention that her leg already felt a little numb from the cold wind. And what if she ran into someone she knew, or a former patient, and had to answer a gazillion questions and have people think she was crazy to run into a collapsed tunnel, just like Mateo had?
She thought about how her sister Penny always accused her of doing everything in her life as safely as possible, and today she’d proved that wasn’t always true. And taking Mateo up on his offer would definitely not be the quiet, boring route either, would it?
“Fine.” Her pulse quickened as she agreed. “I appreciate it.”
“I have a secret reason for asking, you realize.”
Her heart lurched at the wicked glint that suddenly appeared in his eyes, and a whole lot of possibilities swirled through her head. Was she out of her mind to actually go with him? Her eyes glued to his, she breathlessly asked, “What?”
“Benny can’t be returned in his current condition.” He held out the little dog. “I’m hoping you’ll take him in the shower with you to get him washed up as well.”
* * *
Miranda felt warm from head to toe as she shoved her arms into the oversized white robe Mateo had given her before her shower. She had a bad feeling that the heat pumping from her pores was from more than just the hot shower. That it might have something to do with feeling embarrassed that she was naked in Mateo Alves’s bathroom, and that she’d been thinking thoughts that should not have formed in her brain at all.
Thoughts of Mateo coming into the small space while she was in the shower, which of course would be horrifying and creepy in real life. But in her fantasy world, safe behind a locked bathroom door? Very, very exciting. And what woman wouldn’t think about that for at least a second, when the man was the most gorgeous male specimen she’d ever laid eyes on?
Not to mention that there was something about him that made her feel utterly safe. Had even felt absurdly safe in that tunnel with debris showering down on them, which was ridiculous. His body, big though it was, couldn’t have fully shielded her if the entire street had collapsed on them. But that he’d thrown himself on her to protect her the best he could made her feel a little warm glow, even though she knew it was part of his job and he’d been angry with her for even being there in the first place.
She stared into the mirror and finger-combed her damp hair, glad she’d decided to cut it into a bob a couple of years ago. With her work schedule it was easier to take care of now, and after today’s crazy events it would have been a tangled mess if it had been longer. She shook her head at the sudden wish that she had more than just lipstick, making a mental note to put some makeup in her purse for next time.
As though there’d be another time she’d rush into danger, be yelled at by the world’s most handsome paramedic, then insistently brought to his home to get cleaned up. No, this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and she needed to get her clothes dried fast and get out of there before she embarrassed herself again by ogling him. Before he remembered he’d been annoyed about her getting in his way today. The kind of annoyance she’d gotten all too used to once Vanessa Davenport had grudgingly allowed her to live with her father and half-siblings.
“Thanks again for your robe,” she said as she walked into his small but comfortable living room, tying the attached terrycloth belt of the over-large robe even tighter. She stared at him lounging on his sofa and licked her dry lips, trying to sound calm and normal instead of absurdly nervous. Which was obviously a ridiculous way for a mature woman to feel, but boyfriends had been few and far between in her life, mostly because she’d quickly learned that none of them had been interested in her, just in her name and the Davenport money and connections. “Are my...are my clothes almost dry?”
“They need maybe ten more minutes.” Unfolding his body from the deep leather sofa, he moved toward the bathroom with Benny, now wrapped in a towel to keep the dust from getting everywhere, tucked under his arm again. “I hope you left some hot water for us.”
Her mouth went even dryer. “You’re...going to shower? Now?”
Dark eyebrows lifted at her as he paused. “Do you object to me using my own shower? I believe I’m covered in even more silt than you were. And I can’t exactly pass Benny on in his current state, since you refused to take him in with you.”
“Of course I don’t object.” Which was a lie, because she really wanted to say, Yes! I’d really rather you wait to take off your clothes until after I’m gone! “And I didn’t refuse, you said you’d take care of washing him.”
“Because I’m an excellent dog washer, and I suspect you don’t have much experience with canines.”
It was true, but the way he said it seemed to imply he thought she was a prima donna or something. “You sure do claim to be excellent at everything. And I’m sure I could handle washing a little dog.”
“I have no doubt you handle all kinds of things with aplomb, Dr. Davenport.” That quick grin of his flashed before he disappeared into the only bedroom.
Apparently, she’d fooled him pretty well, because there was only one thing she was really good at, and that was being a doctor. Something she’d worked hard to do, trying to live up to the Davenport name. The family she only sort of belonged to, and would probably never be worthy of.
The sound of the bathroom door clicking behind him sent Miranda to perch on the end of the sofa, looking around his small apartment. His decor could be described as minimalist, but the furniture was obviously expensive, and the few pieces of art unusual and eclectic. Not posters from a cheap store but beautifully framed originals hung on the walls, and several excellent sculptures were placed on the modern tables.
She ran her finger across a bronze with fluid lines. Interesting and unexpected that an EMT would have the financial resources for art like this. Maybe he was the kind of man who bought very little, but when he did, it was only the best.
Pondering the man, she absently picked up a magazine, surprised to see that it was about horses and horse-breeding, and flicked through the photos of beautiful animals, hoping for a distraction from her nerves. Until the sound of the shower put a completely different image in her head. Picturing a naked, muscular Mateo with water streaming down the dark hair on his chest shortened her breath and did other things to her body that embarrassed her all over again, reminding her of exactly how she’d felt in that tunnel when he’d been lying on top of her.
Lord, this was ridiculous. What in the world was wrong with her? She was twenty-nine years old, for heaven’s sake, and a doctor who’d seen plenty of naked men in her career. Naked men were in her life every day!
Except Mateo wasn’t a patient, and she couldn’t remember a single man she’d ever known, patient or otherwise, who’d been even close to as gorgeous as he was.
She blew out a breath, and just as she was about to go to the small laundry closet to check on her clothes and throw them on, damp or not, a loud knock sounded at the door to his apartment.
She stared, frozen. Should she answer? The distant sound of the shower told her Mateo wasn’t even close to being done, and if she hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t be answering anyway, right? Besides, what if it was a girlfriend or something? How could she explain being in his apartment in his robe? Then she remembered it might be whoever was coming to get Benny, and decided she’d better answer before they left, assuming no one was home. She moved toward the door as a man’s voice boomed through it.
“Mateo! Are you there?”
To Miranda’s surprise, she heard the keypad beep just before the doorknob turned. The door opened to reveal an older couple, probably in their early sixties. The petite woman had dark hair with streaks of gray, coiffed into an elegant chignon, and the man was tall and unusually slender. He held a cane and was walking slowly, a step behind the woman as they came into the apartment. Both stared at her with raised eyebrows as their gazes took in her wet hair and the fact that she was standing there naked except for Mateo’s robe.
The embarrassment she’d felt before flamed another hundred degrees, and if there’d been anywhere she could have run, she would have torn right out of there.
“Is Mateo here?” the woman asked, her eyes remarkably cold-looking for being a warm, velvety brown.
“Um, yes. He’s...he’s in the shower. See, there was an accident today, part of the subway tunnel collapsed, you might have seen it on the news, or gotten stuck in all the traffic? So I went to help and Mateo was in there rescuing a man and his dog, and we got all dirty, and then...” Her voice faded away. Lord, she must sound like a raving lunatic. “Um, come in. I’m sure he’ll be out in—”
“Mother. Father. What are you doing here? I thought you’d already left for home.”
Miranda turned to see Mateo standing in the doorway to his bedroom, and what little breath she had left backed up in her lungs. Because he was wearing a towel around his waist and nothing else, with a sheen of water droplets in relief on his wide shoulders and athletic chest, a few dripping down the dark hair on his taut stomach just as she’d visualized earlier. Only even better.
She gulped. Obviously, he’d heard voices and hadn’t taken the time to fully dry off, and between the vision in front of her and her embarrassment that these two people were his parents, she thought she just might go into a swoon.
“Our plane is ready to go, but we decided to come here before we left, hoping to convince you to come home with us now, instead of waiting. But apparently you are otherwise engaged.”
His mother turned those cold eyes to Miranda, and they reminded her so much of the way her stepmother had always looked at her, it made her heart constrict oddly. Made her feel as unwelcome as she had in her teens when she’d first shown up at the Davenport mansion, which was absurd. She didn’t even know these people, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d somehow shoved herself somewhere she was unwelcome anyway.
Mateo folded his arms across his damp chest, his features stony. “I told you I’d be coming home soon. And I will.”
“It must be very soon. There are things we need to address right away. You are the heir now!” His father pulled a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and held them out to Mateo, his hand shaking with what looked to be a tremor as he did so. “Your mother and I are trying to manage until you arrive, but it is difficult for us to attend to everything. Too many people are relying on me, on you, to be ignored.”
Miranda looked from Mateo to his parents, and back. What in the world were they talking about? Unlike his mother, his father’s attention was focused exclusively on Mateo, who made no effort to introduce her to them. Which shouldn’t have bothered her, except it made her feel even more like the lowly interloper that Vanessa Davenport had clearly viewed her as thirteen years ago. And still did.
“I understand. I’ll let you know when I’m going to arrive, which I promise will be in just a few days.” Mateo’s biceps bulged as he lifted his arm to squeeze the back of his neck, his expression grim. A now clean, tail-wagging Benny ran from the bedroom to stand next to Mateo’s feet, looking up at him adoringly as Mateo dropped his arm back to his side. “However, as you can see, I’m rather busy right now.”
“You have a dog? In this ridiculously tiny apartment you insist on living in?” his mother asked in an incredulous voice.
“It’s not my dog.”
A man of few words. Miranda had to wonder about the odd exchange between Mateo and his parents, with him obviously not wanting to share anything about the events of the day. It was also obvious they weren’t going to be sharing warm and fuzzy hugs. She knew how it felt to have a strained relationship with your own family, and hoped it didn’t bother him the way her own situation always had.
“Well. We will see you at home, then, and look forward to your arrival.”
His mother’s eyes rested on Miranda one more time before she turned and swept out into the hallway without another word, her husband slowly following. It struck Miranda that their bearing was remarkably regal, their clothes obviously expensive. It was somehow surprising that these two unusually elegant people had a son whose chosen profession was that of a paramedic. But as she watched Mateo move to close the door behind them, it struck her that there was something intangibly noble about his bearing too.
He turned, his face impassive. “Sorry about that. Probably your clothes are ready.”
His words reminded her that she was still standing there in his robe, otherwise naked, and that he was practically naked, too. She found herself staring again at the beyond sexy contours of his torso, the beautiful golden shade of his skin, and the dark hair covering his pectorals and hard stomach, which she knew felt soft to the touch. Jerking her eyes up to his didn’t help the breathless feeling that came over her, as they only managed to land on his chiseled jaw and the beautiful shape of his unsmiling mouth, and her own lips parted to suck in a much-needed breath.
What was it about Mateo Alves that had her feeling so peculiarly stirred up and uncomfortable and embarrassingly aroused whenever he was near?
One hand lifted to clutch her robe tighter to her throat before he turned to get her clothes from his small laundry closet. Eyeing the wound on his back as he opened the dryer, she nearly offered to bandage it for him in case it started bleeding again, but decided she needed to keep her hands off his body. Getting dressed and out of there as soon as possible was the best plan, and she practically snatched the warm clothes he brought from the dryer.
“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 (#u808baae1-5595-552b-b227-872da71932ae)
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?”
The child sniffled between whimpering cries and nodded as Miranda pulled one of the princess stickers from her coat pocket and handed it to Emily. “I hope this will always remind you how brave you were today. Your mom and dad should be proud of you.”
Another nod, and as Emily even managed to smile through her sniffles this time, Mateo realized that Miranda had a special gift for soothing little ones.
“You don’t put a cast or anything on it?” the father asked.
“If the two ends of the broken clavicle are in the same state, I promise it will heal on its own.” Miranda sent the man another encouraging smile before giving instructions to the nurse about not moving Emily’s arm or shoulder, and what pain medication to give her.
Mateo’s job was done here, and though he would have liked to stay a little longer to watch Miranda work her magic, he figured he should get the ambulance back to the station. He pushed the gurney from the room, but as he passed Miranda in the hallway, she paused in typing her instructions into the computer chart and turned to look at him.
“Busy day?”
“Not too bad. No collapsed tunnels with crazy doctors running inside.”
“Or dusty dogs to deal with.” Her lips curved. “Did John’s family come and get Benny?”
“Yes. My apartment seemed quiet after the little guy was gone.”
“So getting a dog might be on your to-do list?”
“Probably not.” He had other things on that list. Like being forced to move back home when he didn’t want to, despite being needed there, and the guilt of his feelings about all that gnawed at his gut. He couldn’t tell his parents he didn’t deserve to step into his brother’s shoes to take over the family’s estate full-time. That his not being there for Emilio, for not doing more to help him, might be part of the reason he wasn’t alive anymore. That memories of his laughter and jokes, of their closeness and all they’d done together their whole lives, were a constant ache every moment he was back in Spain.
The weight of all that hung heavily on his shoulders, as it had for the past six months, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it. Didn’t know how he could convince his parents that it would be fine for him to be home just a few months of the year, when they expected him to be there full-time now that Emilio was gone.
As he stared at Miranda’s pretty face and smiling eyes and thought about the disapproving looks his parents had given her, a radical idea struck him, slowly forming fully in his mind. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.
Yes, it just might be brilliant, and actually work. But would she possibly agree? He had no idea. But what he did know? Trying to persuade her just became the number one thing on that to-do list.
* * *
By the end of the day, Mateo had become convinced that the idea that had developed in his head earlier was the perfect solution to his problem. If Miranda was willing to go along with it, that was.
After all, what did he have to lose by asking her? He definitely couldn’t suggest it to one of the women he casually dated, because they might read more into it than he wanted them to. But since he and Miranda barely knew one another, he couldn’t imagine she’d read his proposal the wrong way. Plus, she was a Davenport. Someone from a wealthy and powerful family wouldn’t think his lineage was a big deal and because of that, she’d be unlikely to get excited about it, like the women back at home always had. Women who wanted nothing more than to snag a wealthy duke, live a lavish lifestyle, and lord it over everyone who worked for his family, like his sister-in-law had.
Which was just one of the reasons he liked living anonymously in a big city like New York. He could date women for a short time who didn’t want anything from him. No long-term commitments offered or expected, and that’s how he wanted to keep it.
Miranda had said she didn’t have a boyfriend, which he found incredibly surprising, but was more than glad about. She had also said that she’d like to get out of the city for a week or so. Get away from work and the challenges of getting to her apartment while the subway was being repaired. Away from memories of the tunnel collapse and how scary he knew that had to have been for her, even though she’d put on a brave front.
He thought about that again while he waited around for her shift to end. Frustrated with her as he’d been at that moment, now that she was safe and it was over with he had to admire that she’d run in there to help. Search and rescue had been his passion since his days in the Spanish military, but she lived her life on the receiving end of casualties in the ER. Without a doubt, lots of physicians would have waited for the rescue crews to bring out any injured before they got to work taking care of them.
He leaned against the wall of the hospital corridor, his gaze on Miranda standing farther down the hall, talking to the doctor taking over her patients. Did she always take this long to tie up loose ends after her shift was over? He glanced at his watch, impressed that, unlike some of the docs in the hospital who ran out the door the second their shift was over, she obviously wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of before she left.
Restlessly squeezing the back of his neck, he wondered if there was any way she’d agree to his proposal. If she said no, he’d just be in the same situation he was in now, right? But maybe he’d get lucky and she’d say yes, which would solve his problem at least in the short term. At the same time, he’d get to look at her pretty face and enjoy her lively mind during the time they spent together.
He’d always taken a second and third look at her whenever he’d brought in a patient, never dreaming he’d have her lush body beneath his the way it had been in the tunnel, or her nearly naked in his apartment. The memories of how both those things had made his blood pump hard and his breath get short had him turning to look somewhere other than at her before his body reacted all over again.
Miranda finally headed to the locker room and emerged just a few minutes later. Mateo pushed off the wall and moved toward her, watching as her slender fingers slowly buttoned her coat. She looked deep in thought about something, and he wondered if her brain was working overtime about her patients, or if something else was on her mind.
“Miranda.”
She turned, and her amazing blue eyes that had shone through the darkness in that tunnel lifted to his in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought your shift ended quite a while ago.”
“It did. I came to see if you’d like to join me for coffee. A little thank-you for doing such a great job with Emily this afternoon.”
“Oh. Well.” Her tongue moistened her lips, and he found himself fixating again on how soft and full they were. “I was just doing my job, you know.”
“Yes, but you do it very well.” She looked so wide-eyed and shocked he couldn’t help but tease her a little. “It’s just coffee, Miranda. Surely your time in my apartment showed you I’m not a big, bad wolf.”
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