First Responder On Call. Melinda Di Lorenzo

eased sideways.

      A strong hand abruptly took hold of her elbow, stilling her movement. With the contact, a zap of heat slid along her arm. She looked up, startled. The big man was staring down at her with his eyes fixed on her face. She stared back for a moment before her gaze slid to the spot where his palm met her skin. Seeing his large fingers wrapped around her elbow did nothing to change the peculiar little zaps she felt. Warmth continued to radiate from his touch—maybe it even heightened—and Celia couldn’t pretend that it was unpleasant. Then Remo seemed to notice the extra attention she was giving their position, and he quickly dropped his hand back to his side and stepped a little farther from the bed.

      “Hang on there,” he said softly, glancing toward Xavier and dropping his voice even lower. “Are you trying to get out of bed?”

      “He’s a sound sleeper,” she replied in a normal voice. “And I’m not trying. I’m doing.”

      He took a small step forward, his hand coming up again. Celia tensed with the anticipation of another touch, but he stopped just shy of reaching for her, and a strange stab of disappointment pricked at her for a moment.

      There’s no time for this, she told herself. Even if I don’t really know what “this” is.

      She gave her a head a little shake, then pushed the blankets down even more. She put her hand on the guardrail opposite her son and pulled her body down the bed.

      “Okay,” said Remo. “That’s not happening.”

      Celia frowned up at him and continued her shimmy. “What’s not happening?”

      “Are you kidding me? You’re not getting out of bed.”

      “How is it your business?”

      “For starters, I’m a medical professional, and I don’t think you’re well enough to be going anywhere.”

      “Are you my doctor?” She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, pretending that a rush of dizziness didn’t accompany the motion.

      His eyes hung on her bare knees for a moment, and Celia fought a creeping heat in her cheeks. Apparently, finding her pants was the first order of business.

      Remo cleared his throat, his gaze back on her face. “I’m not anyone’s doctor. But I was there immediately after you sustained your injuries, and even if you weren’t hooked up to an IV, I could tell you from what I personally saw out there that you’re not in any shape to be up and moving around.”

      “You said that already.”

      “Because it’s true.”

      “But you’re not a doctor.”

      “No.”

      She took a breath and formulated what she hoped was a believable lie. “Look. I don’t like hospitals, I have terrible insurance, and I feel all right.”

      “Celia.”

      She was surprised to hear genuine worry as his voice wrapped softly around her name. And she responded without thinking. “Do I know you?”

      His dark brow furrowed, making his already oh-so-blue eyes appear that much more vibrant. “You don’t know if you know me?”

      Celia fought a wince. “Of course I know.” And she did. Or she thought she did. Hadn’t she been thinking of him as the blue-eyed stranger? She blew out a breath and muttered, “It doesn’t matter.”

      But apparently it did matter to Remo. His long legs brought him to the end of the bed in less time than it took to inhale again, and he quickly grabbed her chart and began reading it. Celia watched as his tense expression eased, then hardened, then eased again. What did he see? What would make his face change like that?

       Who cares? Why are you just sitting here, staring at him, anyway? You’re supposed to be moving!

      She tried to shake off whatever it was that held her pinned to the spot, but Remo lifted his gaze, and she was immobilized again. Held by the intense mix of emotion in his eyes.

      “You didn’t suffer a head injury,” he said.

      “You’re making that sound like a bad thing,” she replied.

      “I’m concerned that you’re experiencing memory loss.”

      “Did I say I was experiencing memory loss?”

      “You asked if you knew me.”

      “That isn’t what I meant,” she argued.

      “So tell me what you did mean,” he said.

      “Maybe I meant that as a pickup line.” Her face warmed, but she ignored it. “As in...haven’t we met somewhere before?”

      He didn’t smile, or even bite on her lame attempt to deflect. “Did you tell your nurse about the confusion?”

      She shook her head and lied again. “I didn’t tell her because there was nothing to tell.”

      “Do you know what day it is?”

      “Yes.”

      “Tell me.”

      “Tuesday.”

      “Do you know what year it is?”

      “Yes! And I’m not going to tell you. The nurse already went over all of that.”

      “So it’s just me you don’t remember?”

      “It doesn’t matter if I say yes or if I say no... Either way, you’ll take it how you want.”

      She started to move again, but he stepped closer once more, and this time, he did put his hand on her.

      “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low, urgent, and earnest, all at the same time. “We don’t know each other. But to reiterate. You were just in a pretty serious accident. You lost a lot of blood. You’ve had a transfusion, you’ve been stitched up, and you’re on some intravenous antibiotics. All of that—combined with common sense—should be enough to keep you in that bed.”

      As logical as his words were, Celia couldn’t quite concede. “And if I don’t agree?”

      “Then I’ll call the nurse—whose name is Jane, and who I’ve known for twenty-five of my thirty-one years—and I’ll ask her nicely to sedate you.”

      “You wouldn’t.”

      “I sure would.”

      “I can’t stay here.”

      “Then you’d better give me a damned good reason for that,” he replied. “And it better be more believable than a hospital phobia, too.”

      “My son...” Celia felt tears well up, and as she dropped her gaze and fought to either hide them or hold them in, whatever further lie she’d been about to issue got lost completely.

      Remo spoke again, his voice gentle. “Xavier is only going to be in more danger if his mom’s too weak to help him.”

      She lifted her head in surprise. “How did you know he was in danger?”

      The big man’s expression shifted subtly, and Celia realized her mistake even before he pointed it out.

      “I didn’t,” he admitted. “But now I do.”

      She pushed her lips together and looked away. After a second, Remo let out a sigh.

      “I want to help you,” he told her. “But if you’re going to keep lying to me, I can’t do it, Celia. I need a little trust here.”

      She echoed his words back to him. “Then you’d better give me a damned good reason for that.”

      His jaw ticked. She waited for an argument. But what she got instead was his story.