And Prudence Hamlin was not a crumbling kind of gal. She'd been first in her nursing school class-and why not since she worked her rear-end off-aced all the officer's training classes, and was a heck of a nurse if she had to say so herself. After all, most of her patients always lived.
Yet, she was crumbling.
"Duty? At this time of night? I thought you worked the first shift?” He leaned closer as if he knew it would get to her.
It got to her.
She stumbled over her words-and that was in her head. Lord knows how they'd come out of her dust-encrusted lips. So, she took a long slow breath, watched his gaze travel down to her chest as it lifted in and out and the blasted gaze hung there a bit too long.
Yet, she didn't budge.
Crap again.
"I have to go, Slick. Really. I'm on call for ambulance and helicopter runs."
The helo word didn't seem to faze him. Of course someone who jumped out of planes and helos for a living wouldn't have a reaction to that other than maybe, “Hot damn!"
Well it wasn't hot anything for her.
He still held her. Funny, she thought she'd pulled free. Hmm.
"I'm sure you came here for something. Let me help you since you've been ‘dusted’ tonight."
It sounded sexy. Dusted. The way it rolled off his tongue. Tongue? Wow again. She'd been covered in something akin to dirt yet grittier, and he'd made it sound sexy as if she were one of those nude models whose clothes were painted on. Oh, boy. “I… chocolate and beer. Coors. Not the light stuff,” came rolling off her tongue as if she had a mental shopping list.
He looked at her. “Yum."
"Only the chocolate is for me."
One of his oh so very dark eyebrows raised. He probably thinks the beer is for a guy. Despite his running into her so often around the base, he never asked if she was dating anyone. And why would he? He wouldn't. Didn't care. He was just the typical PJ busting her-teasing her.
She'd let him think that.
"Milk or dark?” he asked, with a gentle hold on her arm.
Had he taken her down the candy aisle while still making contact and was her arm so numb from shock she couldn't feel it?
Pull yourself together, she ordered in her head, yet being the most ‘non-military’ captain in the Air Force, one who never gave a direct order to the airmen, but merely asked them to do things and they did, she had to mentally laugh at that one.
But, she did pull herself together, and peeled his fingers from her arm. Or at least that was how it felt because she wasn't going to allow herself the thought that it actually felt like little shocks when she came in contact with his skin. His fingers. Parts of his body.
"Good Lord."
"Excuse me?"
"Hmm?” Crap. She'd said that out loud. “Look, I really have to go to bed… er… get some bed… some sleep. Get some sleep since I'm on call. Bye."
When she spun around to make a hasty exit, something metal hit her arm and she turned to see a shelf taking a dive-a shelf she'd bumped.
All over their feet were green leaves with white berries.
Mistletoe.
He stood there grinning.
She started to pick them up, dropped each one like a rattler from the desert, and decided to melt into a Wicked Witch puddle at Slick's feet. So there, Colonel Queen of the Witches. Well, it seemed as if she were in a puddle since his six feet plus towered above her five three-okay, that was pushing it a bit.
With the cockiest of grins, he looked down and merely said, “According to the druids, mistletoe was traditionally considered to be the essence of the gods."
Gulp.
Chapter Three
Essence of the gods. Essence. Oh, Lord. Prue shut her eyes so tightly, they hurt, but how else could she get any sleep? It wasn't bad enough that she had one ear to the phone to wait to be called out on a run, but now each time she closed her eyelids, Slick appeared as if in a movie, mouthing the words, “Essence of the gods. Essence of the…"
Drat!
She grabbed her pillow, stuck it over her head and after a few minutes attempting to fall asleep with her eyes open, she gave up. Turning to look at the bedside clock, which she'd forbidden herself to look at fifteen times earlier, she looked.
0245 hours. Two forty-five am.
Three hours left to get some sleep before the alarm from hell sounded, and she had to get up to work the day shift. Okay, this was going to end. How foolish to be thinking of Slick, essence, white berries, or the phone ringing.
When she tossed to the other side of the bed for the gazillionth time, she saw the candy bar on the dresser. Shamed into buying it so as not to embarrass herself any further in front of Slick at the store, she'd decided not to eat it lest it keep her awake.
She should have chowed down on it hours ago.
With the control of an Air Force officer, Prue shut her eyelids and let her mind become a blank screen and allowed sleep to take her.
Ring. Ring. Ring!
She reached over to shove the alarm into snooze mode for her usual nine more minutes in bed. The last minute she always sat on the edge to let her blood pressure stabilize, if for no other reason than she didn't want to get up yet, since she didn't have any blood pressure problems.
Ring. Ring! Ring!
"What the heck?” She decided she needed a new alarm if this one was going to act up. One eyelid opened to see if the thing looked possessed. What it looked was quiet. Non-possessed and next to a ringing phone.
0300 hours.
She'd dozed off for fifteen freaking minutes. Now she needed to answer the call that might have her airborne within the hour.
In the time she grabbed the receiver, she said a quick prayer that the dust was still kickin’ outside and all choppers were grounded, and the only means of transport was via ambulance. Nice safe ambulances through the dark desert sans traffic.
"Captain Hamlin here."
The disembodied voice of Airman Walker, unmistakable with his Alabama hominy grits southern accent, said, “Ma'am, we have a run to Fort McNally for you. Premature labor."
Prue remained silent for a second. Airman Walker? Walker? Who the heck? Airman… She yawned and looked down. The pillows enticed her to rest her head on them for just a second. A tiny little second of more rest. They almost glowed at her. “No!"
"Ma'am? I have you down on call for tonight. Did I make a mistake?"
"Oh. No. I'm on my way. ETA fifteen minutes."
"Roger, ma'am."
The phone line buzzed in her ear.
Prue hurried into the ER, making it there with an ETA of thirteen minutes. That, because she mentally smacked herself to keep awake, alert, and dress in record speed before this little one popped out way before it's time. But, in true female fashion, she had the foresight to grab the chocolate bar from her bedside stand on her way to the base, but hadn't had time to eat it yet.
She touched her pocket. Yes. A treat for later.
Airman Walker came running around the corner. “Room three, ma'am. Helo on its way. Fire department called."
"Ugh. Don't remind me.” She waved him on as she heard the fire truck's siren heading in their direction.
Despite the shudder for her own welfare, she hitched into nurse mode, hurried into room three, and introduced herself to the patient while she assessed the woman's condition.
"So, Airman Jenkins, you're going for a little jaunt to Fort McNally. The Army will kick this little one's butt so it'll stay inside until it ripens more.” She winked at the mom as she lay with worry lines across her forehead and fear in her eyes. “Hey, everyone knows the Air Force is the cream of the military crop, and, with that said, probably the softest. Ha! So, the Army will get your little one to follow an order. Don't even get me started on the Marines!"