Hot Docs On Call: His Christmas Wish. Susan Carlisle

do long-term relationships, Lance. You know that. We’ve talked about that. This isn’t going to end with lots of feel-good moments.”

      “I do know that and am fine with it. I’m not looking for marriage either, McKenzie. Far from it.”

      “Then we both understand that this isn’t going anywhere between us. Not anywhere permanent or long lasting.”

      “We’re clear.” Lance wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t recognize that he’d only kissed her and yet he wanted McKenzie more than he recalled wanting any woman, ever.

      Even Shelby.

      Then again, he’d been a kid when he and Shelby had been together, barely a man. Old enough to enter into adulthood with her only to lose her before either of them had experienced the real world. Typically, when he dated, Shelby didn’t play on his mind so much. Typically, when he dated, he didn’t feel as involved as he already felt with McKenzie.

      “I’ll see you in the morning?” she asked, staring up at him curiously.

      “Without a doubt.”

      Her smile returned. “I’m glad.”

      With that, she planted one last, quick kiss on his mouth then went into her house, leaving him on her front porch staring at her closed front door and wondering what the hell he was getting himself into and if he should run while he still could.

      McKenzie ran as fast as she could, but her feet weren’t cooperating. Each time she tried to lift her running shoe–clad foot, it was as if it weighed a ton and she didn’t have the strength to do more than lean in the direction she wanted to go. She stared off into the distance. Nothing. There was nothing there. Just gray-black nothingness.

      Yet, desperately, she attempted to move her feet in that direction.

      Fear pumped her blood through her body.

      She had to run.

      Had to.

      Yet, try as she might, nothing was happening.

      Run, McKenzie, run before…

      Before what?

      She wasn’t sure. There was nothing to run to. Was she running from something?

      She turned, was shocked to see Lance standing behind her.

      Again, she tried to move her feet, but nothing happened. Desperation pumped through her. She had to get away from him. Fast.

      She glanced down at her running shoes and frowned. Gone were her running shoes and in their place were concrete blocks where her shoes and feet should be.

      What was going on?

      She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Lance was casually strolling toward her. He was taking his time, not in any rush, not even breaking a sweat, but he was steadily closing the gap between them.

      Grinning in that carefree way he had, he blew her a kiss and panic filled her.

      People were all around, watching them, gawking, pointing and staring.

      Run, McKenzie, run.

      It’s what she did.

      What she always did.

      But she’d never had concrete blocks for feet before.

      Which really didn’t make sense. How could her feet be concrete blocks?

      Somewhere in the depths of her fuzzy mind she realized she was dreaming.

      Unable to run?

      People everywhere staring at her?

      That wasn’t a dream.

      That was a nightmare.

      Even if it was Lance who was closing in on her and he seemed quite happy with his pursuit and inevitable capture of her.

      “The radiologist just called me with the report on Edith’s CT and D-dimer.” McKenzie stood in Lance’s office doorway, taking him in at his desk. His brown hair was ruffled and when his gaze met hers, his eyes were as bright as the bluest sky.

      “She has a pulmonary embolism?” Lance asked.

      “He called you, too?”

      “No, I just figured that was the case after listening to her last night and the things you said.”

      “That doesn’t explain the blood she spat up. She shouldn’t have spat up blood with a clot in her lungs. That doesn’t make sense.”

      “You’re right. Makes me wonder what else is going on. Did they get the sputum culture sent off?”

      “Yes, with her first morning cough-up. Her pulmonologist is supposed to see her this morning. Her cardiologist, too.”

      “That’s good.”

      Suddenly, McKenzie felt uncomfortable standing in Lance’s doorway. What had she been thinking when she’d sought him out to tell him of Edith’s test results?

      Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking.

      She could have texted him Edith’s results.

      She’d just given in to the immediate desire to tell him, to see him, to share her anxiety over the woman’s diagnosis. She really liked Edith and had witnessed Lance’s affection for her, too.

      “Um, well, I thought you’d want to know. I’ll let you get back to work,” she said, taking a step backward and feeling more and more awkward by the moment.

      “Thank you, McKenzie.”

      Awkward.

      “You’re welcome.” She turned, determined to get out of Dodge as quickly as possible.

      “McKenzie?”

      Heart pounding in her throat, she slowly turned back toward him. “Yes?”

      His gaze met hers and he asked, “Dinner tonight if I don’t see you before then?”

      Relief washed over her.

      “If you do see me before, what then? Do I not get dinner? Just dessert or something?”

      He grinned. “You do keep me on my toes.”

      Since he was sitting down, she didn’t comment, just waited on him to elaborate.

      “Regardless of when we next see each other, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight, McKenzie. As you well know, I’m also good for dessert.”

      “Sounds like a plan,” she answered, wondering why she felt so relieved that he’d asked, that they had plans to see each other after work hours. He’d been asking her for weeks and she’d been saying no. Now that she was willing to say yes, had she thought he wasn’t going to ask?

      “Great.” His smile was bigger now, his dimples deeper. “We can discuss what we’re going to wear for the Christmas parade. I’m thinking you should be a sexy elf.”

      “A sexy elf, hmm?” she mused, trying to visualize what he was picturing in his mind. He’d make a much sexier Santa’s helper than she would. Maybe he should do the sexy-elf thing. “I haven’t agreed to be in the Christmas parade,” she reminded him.

      “It’ll be fun. The mayor’s float is based on a children’s story about a grumpy fellow who hates Christmas until a little girl shows him the true meaning of the holidays. It’s a perfect float theme.”

      “I get to do weird things to my hair and wear ear and nose extensions that make me look elfish for real?” she asked with false brightness.

      “You do.