just kidding. “Not today, I’m afraid.”
“Just so you know, I’d consider that a good reason to miss an appointment.” He gave her a teasing smile that sent her attention to his beautiful mouth, which was not a good place for it to be. Thankfully, he reached for her hand and she followed his gaze to the new bandage. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
“It’s all right, really. I put peroxide on it and a clean bandage.”
He grasped her elbow and walked to the sink, her injured hand still in his. “That’s good, but I’d like to clean it again, nonetheless. Better to prevent an infection than have to treat one.”
She couldn’t argue with that, and again watched his fingers gently and carefully remove the bandage. He looked closely at her palm for a long moment before he spoke. “It’s going to hurt a little, I’m sorry to say, but thoroughly washing this out is important. Are you ready?”
She nodded and braced herself as he turned on the faucet, holding the open cut directly underneath the cool stream. He was right, it definitely hurt, but no way was she going to be a baby about it. Biting her lip, she’d have sworn he about drained the town’s entire water supply and was just about to yell, Enough already! when he finally turned it off.
He wrapped her hand with a towel and gently dried it. “You were very brave. I appreciate that you didn’t scream in my ear like the last patient I did that to.”
The eyes that met hers held a pleasing mix of humor, warmth and admiration in their dark depths. “I reserve screaming for activities that truly warrant it,” she said. Then wanted to sink into the floor when his eyebrows lifted and something else mingled with the humor in his eyes. “Things like bungee-jumping, for example,” she added hastily.
“I see. So you’re a daredevil.”
“Um, not really.” Not about to admit she wouldn’t bungee-jump unless her life depended on it, and definitely wouldn’t admit the direction her thoughts had suddenly gone, she quickly changed the subject. “What is that stuff you’re putting on there?”
“Just a topical antibiotic.” With nowhere else to look, her gaze again got stuck on his face instead of his work on her hand. On his dark lashes, lowered over his eyes; his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones; his lips twisting a little as he wrapped white gauze over the cut. “This gauze bandage will keep it clean and dry, but I’d like to check it in a couple days.”
“It’ll be fine. Thank you.” It suddenly struck her that she probably needed to pay him. “What do I owe you, Dr. Drakoulias?”
“First, I’d like you to call me Andros, since Dr. Drakoulias reminds me of my father and I don’t want to feel old around a beautiful woman. Second, I’m the one who insisted on treating you, so it’s on the house. I might get a bad reputation if I chase ambulances, then hand unsuspecting patients a bill.”
She had to grin at the picture that conjured, and the smile in his eyes and on his lips grew in response. “So if anybody on the dig team gets hurt, I need to find a way to lure you to the site, then when your Hippocratic Oath kicks in, we’ll get free medical care? Good to know.”
“I’m pretty sure you’d have no trouble at all luring me there.”
Did he mean, because he was interested in archaeology? Or something else altogether? After all, he’d called her “beautiful.” She shoved aside the intriguing question, reminding herself she had work to focus on, and luring dreamy Dr. Drakoulias couldn’t be on the agenda, even if he was willing to be lured.
Though the thought alone put a hitch in her breath and sent a little electric zing from the top of her head to her toes.
“Are we going to see Mel and Tom now? Where are they?”
His expression instantly became neutral and professional. “They’re in the clinic hospital, which is attached to this building. But before you see them, I’d like to talk to you in my office.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, his lips tightening into a grim line, “they are both seriously ill.”
ANDROS WAS ALL too aware of the woman following close behind him down the clinic corridor. She smelled good. Like sweet lemons or grapefruit strewn with flowers, and he had an urge to bury his nose in the softness of her neck and breathe her in.
Something about her had stopped him in his tracks the first second he’d seen her on the mountain. Her blonde hair was the color of sunshine, pulled back into a thick, untidy ponytail that had flowed from beneath a creased canvas hat that was definitely for function, not style. The blue eyes that had met his were sharp and intelligent, and there was an exotic look to her features that made him want to keep looking. Maybe not a classic kind of beauty, but there was something intangible and appealing about her. Her skin was practically luminous without any makeup at all. He hadn’t thought much about it until this moment, but, compared to the carefully put-together women he used to date, he liked her natural look a lot.
Down, boy, he reminded himself. Now wasn’t the time to forget he was trying to reform the man who’d liked women far too much in the past, made-up, natural or anywhere in between.
Andros opened the door to his office and gestured for Laurel to go inside, wishing there were a little more room to move around. Usually he didn’t notice how his father’s old wooden desk that Christina joked was the size of an aircraft carrier practically filled the small space. At that moment, however, he was intensely aware of the close quarters.
Standing or sitting within inches of Laurel wasn’t the best idea, since he kept finding himself distracted by her scent and her smooth skin and soft-looking hair. There wasn’t much he could do about any of those problems, though, and he wanted privacy for this conversation. The last thing he needed was for a local to come into the clinic and overhear that there might be a contagion nearby.
“Have a seat.”
She sat and turned to him as he lowered himself into the chair next to her, trying not to bump his knees into hers. He pondered for a moment, wondering how much detail he should give her about the Wagners’ condition. She had to be worried, but instead of bombarding him with questions like a lot of people would, she waited patiently. He looked into her serious blue eyes and decided she could handle the truth, and deserved to know.
“Unfortunately, the Wagners are no better. I’m frankly surprised and concerned about that, after having them on IV fluids and antibiotics all day. As I mentioned before, I’m keeping them here overnight for observation. With any luck, they’ll improve, but we should have seen some improvement already.”
“Doesn’t pneumonia usually respond to antibiotics pretty fast?”
“Often, yes, especially in younger people and those with no underlying physical problems, like the Wagners. That’s the good news. But sometimes it doesn’t. The truth about this situation, though? The presentation of their pneumonia is unusual.”
“How so?”
“According to what they told me, Tom got what he thought was a cold a couple days before Melanie did. This morning Tom’s respiratory rate was about thirty breaths per minute, Mel’s twenty. Which indicates to me that she may have gotten it from him, which generally doesn’t happen with pneumonia. Both are showing symptoms of the pneumonia worsening.” He paused, hoping she wouldn’t get upset at what he had to warn her about next. “If that continues into the morning, I will recommend they be transported to a fully equipped hospital in a bigger city about an hour away. It has twenty-four-hour skilled care and equipment we don’t have.”
Her lush lips parted in surprise. “You really think that might be necessary? Can’t you just give them a different kind of antibiotic or something?”
“It’s not that