Hot Docs On Call: His Christmas Wish. Susan Carlisle

to draw her blood.

      Lance sat with her, telling her about Mr. Jones and that the surgeon was currently with him. “Looks like they’re taking him into surgery tonight to remove the stuck food and close the airway opening you made.”

      Only half processing what he said, she nodded. She tried to focus on his words, but her skin felt as if it was on fire and her ears had to strain beyond the burn.

      “The surgeon praised the opening you made. He said it would be a cinch to close and would only leave a tiny scar.”

      Again, she nodded.

      “He also said you’d nicked two main arteries and the guy was going to have to be seen by a vascular surgeon. Shame on you.”

      As what he said registered, her gaze cut to Lance’s. “What? I didn’t nick a main artery, much less two. What are you talking about?”

      The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Sorry. I could tell your mind was elsewhere. I was just trying to get your attention back onto me.”

      “I didn’t hit two arteries,” she denied again.

      “No, you didn’t. The surgeon really did praise you, but didn’t say a thing about any nicked arteries.”

      “You’re bad,” she accused.

      Not bothering to deny her claim, he just grinned. “Sometimes.”

      “All the time.”

      “Surely you don’t believe that? I come with good references.”

      “You get references from the women you’ve dated?”

      “I didn’t say the references were from women or from previous dates. Just that I had references.”

      “From?”

      “My mother.”

      She rolled her eyes and tried not to pay attention to the man who entered the room holding her lab order. He checked over her information, verifying all the pertinent details.

      Her heartbeat began to roar in her ears at a deafening level.

      “You should meet her sometime,” Lance continued as if she weren’t on the verge of a major come-apart.

      “Nice penguin suit, Dr. Spencer,” the phlebotomist teased, his gaze running over Lance’s spiffy suit.

      “Thanks, George, I’m starting a new trend.”

      “Pretty sharp-looking, but good luck with that,” the phlebotomist said, then introduced himself to McKenzie. “In case you didn’t catch it, I’m George.”

      He then verified her name and information, despite the fact McKenzie had seen him around the hospital in the past. She imagined he had a checklist he had to perform.

      So did she. Sit in this chair. Remain calm. Do not pass out. Do not decide to forget the first three items on her checklist and run away as fast as she could.

      She clenched and unclenched her sweaty hands.

      “She’d like you,” Lance continued as if the phlebotomist hadn’t interrupted their conversation about his mother and wasn’t gathering his supplies.

      Oh, she didn’t want anyone else to know of her phobia. Why couldn’t she just tell herself everything was going to be fine and then believe it? Everything was going to be fine. People did not die from having blood drawn. She knew that logically. But logic had nothing to do with what was happening inside her body.

      “McKenzie?”

      Her gaze lifted to Lance’s.

      “You should go to dinner with me sometime.”

      “No.” She might be distracted, but she wasn’t that distracted.

      “You have other plans?”

      “I do.”

      “I haven’t said which day I wanted to take you to dinner. Maybe I wanted to take you out over the holidays.”

      “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go to dinner with you. Not now or over the holidays.”

      “Ouch.”

      “That’s my line,” she told him, watching George with growing dread.

      The phlebotomist swiped an alcohol pad across her left antecubital space. “Relax your arm.”

      Yeah, right.

      Lance moved closer. “McKenzie, you have to relax your arm or he can’t stick you.”

      Exactly. That’s why her arm wasn’t relaxed.

      Lance took her right hand and gave it a squeeze. “Look at me, McKenzie.”

      She did. She locked her gaze with his and forced her brain to stay focused on him rather than George. That really shouldn’t have been a problem except George held the needle he was lowering toward her arm.

      She wanted to pull away but she just gripped Lance’s hand all the tighter.

      She wanted to run, but she kept her butt pasted into her chair. Somehow.

      “Keep your eyes on me, McKenzie.”

      Her eyes were on him, locked into a stare with him. It wasn’t helping. All she could think about was George and his blasted needle.

      She was going to pass out.

      Lance lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her clenched fingers.

      McKenzie frowned. “What was that for?”

      “You’ve had a rough evening.”

      “You shouldn’t have done that.”

      “Sure, I should have. You deserve accolades for everything you’ve done.”

      “That’s ridiculous. I just did my job.”

      “You’re going to feel a stick,” George warned, and she did.

      Sweat drenched her skin.

      Lance took the man’s words as permission to do whatever he pleased. Apparently, kissing her hand again pleased him because he pressed another kiss to her flesh. This time his mouth lingered.

      “Stop that.” She would have pulled away but she was too terrified to move. Plus, her mind was going dark. “I think I’m going to pass out,” she warned as the needle connected with its target.

      She gritted her teeth, but didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

      “Stay with me, McKenzie.”

      “No.”

      He laughed. “You planning to sleep through this?”

      “Something like that.” Her gaze dropped to where George swapped one vial for another as he drew blood from her arm.

      She shouldn’t have looked. She shouldn’t have.

      “Hey.”

      Lance’s rough tone had her gaze darting back to him.

      “Stay with me or I might have to do mouth-to-mouth.”

      “You wouldn’t dare.”

      “Oh, I’d dare.” He waggled his brows. “Do you think I have a shot at dating you?”

      “Not a chance.” She glowered at him. Really? He was going to ask her that now?

      “Then I should go ahead with that mouth-to-mouth while you’re in a compromised situation.”

      “I’m not that compromised,” she warned, curling her free-from-George fingers into a fist.

      “Don’t mind me, folks. I’m just doing my job here,” George assured them with a chuckle.

      “I’m doing