ends, and you start to find a really tight leash with the word ‘anxiety’ written all over it.
I almost jerked the thing right out of my hand, honestly, because I had no idea what was being fed into my vein, and unless it was wine or caffeine, I had serious doubts about whether I wanted it or not.
A quick glance at the bag and stand sitting next to me confirmed that the IV held neither wine nor coffee, but some sort of clear liquid, and that made my decision really easy. But the moment my fingers went to the needle, poised to yank it out, someone stepped into the room.
The insanely hot guy from the dock. The one I’d been staring at when I fainted. Not that I’d fainted because of him. I didn’t think.
“I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you,” he said, his mouth curving up into a sizzling smolder of a smile. “Unless you want me to have to put it back in. People don’t usually like getting IVs inserted. Unless…” I heard a catch in his voice. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
He ended on a sort of questioning note, like he was seeing me in a whole new light with that particular assumption.
“Why do I have it in the first place?” I asked, consciously avoiding the question of whether I actually liked having IVs inserted. Because I wasn’t sure whether that had been a real question from him—or if he’d just been trying to make me laugh so I would relax.
“Liquids,” he said simply.
“And you couldn’t just give me a drink of water?” I asked, arching both brows.
He shrugged “Well for one thing, it’s not just water—it’s saline. And for another, I’d just pulled you out of the water; even if you’d been awake, I didn’t think you’d want more.”
Okay, so the guy was completely charming on top of being fireman-calendar-level hot, but with a doctor sort of twist. Terrific.
And he’d saved my life? Talk about a hero. One who had just happened to be there exactly when I needed one, evidently.
I’d fainted and somehow managed to find a guy who actually dove into the ocean and saved a woman who had (presumably) fallen out of the boat she was sailing. What were the chances?
Oh no, I suddenly thought. Had he seen me sailing before that? Had he seen me closing my eyes and turning my face to the sky? I’d thought no one would be watching and I’d definitely thought I wouldn’t receive any judgement, but if this guy had seen that—and thought that it was how I’d managed to faint…
Then, however, I came back to the important part of this whole equation.
“You saved me,” I said quietly.
He smiled again, tipped his head in agreement, and came to sit in the chair right next to the couch I was half-reclined, half-sitting on. A chair, I realized, that was situated perfectly to be able to sit and watch me.
I wondered suddenly whether he’d been doing just that. And whether he’d been doing it because he was afraid I wouldn’t wake up.
To my surprise, once he sat down, he handed me a glass of wine.
“I couldn’t very well not save you,” he said reasonably. “I was watching you sail, wondering how you were managing to do it with your eyes closed, and then I saw you stagger and fall into the water. You’re lucky I did, too. By the time I got to you, you were starting to go under. If I’d taken much longer, it might have been too late to save you. As it was, it was a struggle to bring you back.”
And the mystery deepened. He’d not only saved me, but evidently gone through rather a lot of trouble to do it.
“But you managed,” I said. “You saved my life.”
Another one of those sly smiles. “I did. Lucky for you again that I’m a doctor and I know how to do things like that.”
I took a long sip of the wine, my eyes on this mysterious man as I tried to figure out what to do with any of this information.
“So am I dying, then?” I finally asked. I figured it was an appropriate question. Given the situation.
“You are not,” he said seriously. “I suspect simple dehydration.” Then something changed in his face, and he added, “You’re traveling, I take it?”
“From the US,” I said, nodding.
“Ah. Perhaps jet lag, then, or a virus you brought with you. Perhaps something you ate here.