Chapter 7: Lola Goes To The ER

She hurried away and Scott watched her run away from his question, from him, the smile on his face broadening. As they had talked, he had found himself wanting to know if she was as passionate as the women she portrayed in her novels. He had obviously touched a nerve and now he was determined to explore it, like a surgeon looking for buckshot in a wound. He didn't want to upset her but more than ever now, he intended to know the woman who had captured his imagination, even if only by corresponding with her through her blog.

Two days later, after his second double shift at the hospital was over, Scott parked his white roadster in the spot in front of his townhouse. He sat in the car for a few minutes, just letting the weariness he had been suppressing rise to the surface. He was exhausted. Between working sixteen-hour shifts, and not getting enough sleep when he was home, he could barely hold a coherent thought. He was even too tired to be hungry. Another double shift might be in his immediate future, so he dragged his body out of the low-slung car, and went inside. A quick shower later, he was sprawled in bed, naked and incredibly aroused.

It never failed. He’d be home and barely able to move and yet before his shower was done, he was hard and aching. Thoughts of Lola assailed him and it seemed he was powerless to spare himself the torture of an unrelenting hard-on. He sighed and rolled over, pulling the sheets up over his hips, in deference to his mother and younger sister, who sometimes came over with food while he was asleep.

But sleep came slowly. In his mind he could still see Lola, the midnight blue pantsuit she wore highlighting her dusky skin, the heels making her long legs look longer. She was tall and full-bodied, with big breasts that begged for his mouth on them. He wondered, as he turned onto his back, what color her nipples were, and how sensitive they would be to the caress of his hungry tongue. He groaned…this was not helping him sleep. He tried reciting facts from anatomy, recalling the steps he had taken to treat that difficult case two weeks ago, reminding himself of why he had moved to Silver Lake, counting the number of streets between the hospital and his townhouse. An hour later, he fell into a fitful slumber.

Two hours into his second shift the next day, Lola walked behind the attending nurse into the examination room. Her face looked strained, and she was holding her right arm very gingerly with her left.

“What happened?” he asked, accepting the chart the nurse handed him before she walked out of the cubicle.

“I have a decent job, you said,” Lola finally snapped, after ignoring his question for a few weighty seconds. “You neglected to mention it was as a doctor!”

Her voice was a whip of displeasure, of anger…of hurt. That last gave him pause, though it didn’t stop him from reacting to its sultry tones, at once bone-melting and groin-hardening. He moved closer to her, glad of the white coat that hid his growing arousal.

“You can berate me after I’ve helped you, okay?” He turned concerned eyes to her arm and said again, “Tell me what happened.”

“I was moving some things around and picked up a box to take to the basement. I didn’t realize how heavy it was. I think I wrenched something.”

“How did you get here, Lola?” Scott was clinical and impersonal as he gently examined the arm she was holding with such care.

“My neighbor brought me. But I’ve already been here a while and she may have to leave.”

Scott spoke to the nurse, who helped Lola off the bed and walked with her to have X-rays of her arm done. She was in so much pain that when the technician asked her to rate it, she indicated the highest number on the little card, the one with the face that was crying. It was painful to place her arm in the ways she was asked to, but she bit her lip and held back the tears. When she returned to the examination room, she struggled to remain calm. She watched Scott study the X-rays, and to distract herself from her pain, she tried to regain her annoyance with him. That didn't happen, but what worked brilliantly was admiring how he looked in his lab coat, and how his hands looked on the X-rays, and how his lips curved as he wrote on his little pad.

“Do you have any questions, Lola?” His voice was gentle, his eyes watching her with faint amusement. She felt her face heating, knowing she hadn’t been paying any attention, between the pain and her interest in him.

“Would you please repeat what you said?” she asked in a low, embarrassed tone.

“Nothing’s broken,” he replied patiently, “but you have a grade 1 sprain. You’ll need to keep your arm in the sling that I’ll fit on you in a bit and take these pills for pain.” He handed her a prescription. “You also need to go see your own doctor as soon as possible to follow up. Okay?”

“Okay.” For some reason she couldn’t fathom, she was even closer to tears than she had been before, as he adjusted the sling into which he guided her arm.

“Tell me if it gets uncomfortable.” He adjusted the strap and looked at her. “Good?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He helped her off the bed again and said, as she turned to leave, “I’ll check on you when my shift is over, okay?”

Lola looked him in the eye for the second time and nodded.

By the end of his second shift, Scott was ready to tear out of the hospital to see her, but something told him he’d be better off calling first. After all, he wasn’t her doctor, and she had been in enough pain that his unexpected and probably unwanted appearance might push her further away from him. On his way to his car, therefore, he consulted the piece of paper on which he had recorded her phone number and address and dialed her number. Just when he thought he’d have to leave a message, she picked up.

“This is Lola,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“Hi, this is Scott,” he told her. “I’m checking in as promised. How are you feeling? You don’t sound so good.” He let his concern sound in his voice.

There was silence on the other end, and then she said, her voice stronger, more determined, “I’m fine. Thanks for calling, but I have to go now.”

“Lola,” he interrupted her retreat, “why lie to me? I heard you when you answered, and I saw how much pain you were in today. Do you have anyone to help you? You can’t use your arm for a few days, at least, you know."

“My neighbor is just next door,” she informed him, her voice cool. There was a sound of rattling, and then a crash on the line.