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Not that she was a virgin. She wasn’t. Her innocence had run away a long time ago, too. It was just that she was choosy about who she let touch her body.
Which brought her right back to the man onstage wooing the audience with his smile and charm.
He wanted to touch her body. Not that he’d said those exact words out loud. It was in how he looked at her.
He looked at her as if he couldn’t bear not to look at her.
As if he’d like to tear her clothes off and show her why she should hang up her running shoes for however long the chemistry held out.
She gulped again and forced more of those possibilities out of her mind.
Loud applause sounded around the dinner theater as the show moved from one song to the next. Before long, Lance introduced a trio of females who sang a song about getting nothing for Christmas. At the end of the trio’s set, groups of carolers made their way around the room, singing near the tables rather than on the stage. Lance remained just off to the side of the stage and was directly in her line of vision. His gaze met hers and he grinned. Great, he’d caught her staring at him. Then again, wasn’t that why he’d invited her to attend?
Because he wanted her to watch him.
She winced. Doggone her because seeing him outside the clinic made her watch. She didn’t want to watch him...only she did want to watch. And to feel. And to...
Cecilia elbowed her, and not with the gentle nudge as before.
“Ouch.” She rubbed her arm and frowned. No way could her friend have read her mind and even if she had, she was pretty sure Cecilia would be high-fiving her and not dishing out reprimands.
“Just wanted to make sure you were seeing what I’m seeing, because he can’t seem to keep his gaze off you.”
“I’m not blind,” she countered, still massaging the sore spot on her arm.
“After seeing the infamous Dr. Spencer I’ve heard you talk about so much and that I know you’ve said no to, I’m beginning to think perhaps you are. How long has it been since you last saw an optometrist?”
“Ha-ha, you’re so funny. There’s more to life than good looks.” Okay, so Lance was hot and she’d admit her body responded to that hotness. Always had. But even if there wasn’t her whole-won’t-date-a-coworker rule, she enjoyed her working relationship with Lance. If they dated, she didn’t fool herself for one second that they wouldn’t end up in bed. Then what? They weren’t going to be having a happily ever after. Work would become awkward. Did she really want to deal with all that just for a few weeks of sexy Lance this Christmas season?
Raking her gaze over him, she could almost convince herself it would be worth it...almost.
“Yeah,” Cecilia agreed. “There’s that voice that I could listen to all night long. Sign me up for a hefty dose of some of that.”
“Just because he has this crowd, and you, eating out of the palm of his hand, it doesn’t mean I should go out with him.”
Cecilia’s face lit with amusement. “What about you? Are you included in those he has eating out of the palm of his hand? Because I’m thinking you should. Literally.”
She didn’t. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“I was just being a smart aleck,” McKenzie countered.
“Yeah, I know.” Cecilia ran her gaze over where Lance caroled, dressed up in old-fashioned garb and top hat. “But I’m serious. He could be the one.”
Letting out a long breath, McKenzie shook her head. “You know better than that.”
Cecilia had been her best friend since kindergarten. She’d been with McKenzie through all life’s ups and downs. Now McKenzie was a family doctor in a small group of physicians and Cecilia was a hairdresser at Bev’s Beauty Boutique. They’d both grown up to be what they’d always wanted to be. Except Cecilia was still waiting for her Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet and across the threshold. Silly girl.
McKenzie was a big girl and could walk across that threshold all by herself. No Prince Charming needed or wanted.
Her gaze shifted from her friend and back to Lance. He was watching her. She’d swear he’d smiled at her. Maybe it was just the sparkle in his eyes that made her think that. Maybe.
Or maybe it went back to what she’d been thinking moments before about how the man looked at her. He made her want to let him look. It made her feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.
Which was probably part of why she kept telling him no.
Only she was here tonight.
Why?
“I think you should go for it.”
She blinked at Cecilia. “It?”
“Dr. Spencer, aka the guy who has you so distracted.”
“I have to work with the man. Going for ‘it’ would only complicate our work relationship.”
“His asking you out hasn’t already complicated things?”
“Not really, because I haven’t let it.” She hadn’t. She’d made a point to keep their banter light, not act any differently around him.
If she’d had to make a point, did that mean the dynamics between them had already changed?
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I don’t take him seriously.”
“He’s looking at you as if he’s serious.”
There was that look. That heavenly making-her-want-to-squirm-in-her-chair look.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
But then suddenly he wasn’t looking at her.
He’d rushed over to one of the dinner tables and wrapped his arms around a rather rosy-faced gentleman who was grabbing at his throat. Everyone at the man’s table was on their feet, but looking lost as to what to do.
McKenzie’s natural instincts kicked in. She grabbed her purse and phone. Calling 911 as she did so, she rushed over to where Lance gave the man a hearty thrust. Nothing happened. The guy’s eyes bulged out, more from fear than whatever was lodged in his throat. The woman next to him was going into hysterics. The carolers had stopped singing and every eye was on what Lance was doing, trying to figure out what was going on, then gasping in shock when they realized someone was choking.
Over the phone, McKenzie requested an ambulance. Not that there was time to wait for the paramedics. There wasn’t. They had to get out whatever was in the man’s throat.
Lance tried repeatedly and with great force to dislodge whatever was blocking the panicking guy’s airway. McKenzie imagined several ribs had already cracked at the intensity of his chest thrusts.
If the man’s airway wasn’t cleared, and fast, a few broken ribs weren’t going to matter. He had already started turning blue and any moment was going to lose consciousness.
“We’re going to have to open his airway.” Lance said what she’d been thinking. And pray they were able to establish a patent airway.
She glanced down at the table, found the sharpest-appearing knife, and frowned at the serrated edges. She’d have made do if that had been her only option, but in her purse, on her key chain, she had a small Swiss army knife that had been a gift many years before from her grandfather. The blade was razor sharp and much more suitable for making a neat cut into someone’s neck to create an artificial airway than this steak knife. She dumped the contents of her purse onto the table, grabbed her key chain and a ballpoint pen.
As the man lost consciousness, Lance continued to try to dislodge the stuck food. McKenzie disassembled the pen, removed the ink cartridge, and blew into the now empty plastic tube to clear anything that might be in the casing.
Lance eased the man down onto the floor.
“Does he still have a heartbeat?” she asked, kneeling next to where the man now lay.
“Regardless of whether or not he does, I’m going to see if CPR will dislodge the food before we cut.”
Sometimes once a choking victim lost consciousness, their throat muscles relaxed enough that whatever was stuck would loosen and pop out during the force exerted to the chest during CPR. It was worth a try.
Unfortunately, chest compressions didn’t work either. Time was of the essence. Typically, there was a small window of about four minutes to get oxygen inside the man’s body or there would likely be permanent brain damage. If they could revive him at all.
McKenzie tilted the man’s head back. When several seconds of CPR didn’t give the reassuring gasp of air to let them know the food had dislodged, she flashed her crude cricothyroidotomy instruments at Lance.
“Let me do it,” he suggested.
She didn’t waste time responding, just felt for the indentation between the unconscious man’s Adam’s apple and the cricoid cartilage. She made a horizontal half-inch incision that was about the same depth into the dip. Several horrified cries and all out sobbing were going on around her, but she drowned everything out except what she was doing to attempt to save the man’s life.
Once she had her incision, she pinched the flesh, trying to get the tissue to gape open. Unfortunately, the gentleman was a fleshy fellow and she wasn’t satisfied with what she saw. She stuck her finger into the cut she’d made to open the area.
Once she had the opening patent, she stuck the ballpoint-pen tube into the cut to maintain the airway and gave two quick breaths.
“Good job,” Lance praised when the man’s chest rose and fell. “He still has a heartbeat.”
That was good news and meant their odds of reviving him were greatly improved now that he was getting oxygen again. She waited five seconds, then gave another breath, then another until their patient slowly began coming to.
“It’s okay,” Lance reassured him, trying to keep the man calm, while McKenzie gave one last breath before straightening from her patient.
“Dr. Sanders opened your airway,” Lance continued. “Paramedics are on their way. You’re going to be okay.”
Having regained consciousness, the man should resume breathing on his own through the airway she’d created for him. She watched for the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. Relief washed over her at his body’s movement.
Looking panicky, he sat up. Lance held on to him to help steady him and grabbed the man’s hands when he reached for the pen barrel stuck in his throat.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Lance warned. “That’s what’s letting air into your body. Pull it out, and we’ll have to put it back in to keep that airway open.”
“Is he going to be okay?” a well-dressed, well-made-up woman in her mid-to-late fifties asked, kneeling next to McKenzie a little shakily.
“He should be.” She met the scared man’s gaze. “But whatever is stuck in your throat is still there. An ambulance is on the way. They’ll take you to the hospital where a general surgeon will figure out the best way to remove whatever is trapped there.”
The man looked dazed. He touched a steady trickle of blood that was running down his neck.
“Once the surgeon reestablishes your airway, he’ll close you up and that will only leave a tiny scar,” she assured him.
Seeming to calm somewhat the longer he was conscious, the man’s gaze dropped to her bloody finger. Yeah, she should probably wash that off now that the immediate danger had passed.
“Go wash up,” Lance ordered, having apparently read her mind. “I’ll stay with him until the ambulance arrives.”
With one last glance at her patient she nodded, stood, and went in search of a ladies’ room so she could wash the blood off her hands and her Swiss army knife.
Carrying McKenzie’s purse and the contents she’d apparently gathered up, Cecilia fell into step beside her. “Omigosh. I can’t believe that just happened. You were amazing.”
McKenzie glanced at her gushing friend. “Not exactly the festive cheer you want spread at a charity Christmas show.”
“You and Dr. Spencer were wonderful,” Cecilia sighed.
She shrugged. “We just did our job.”
“Y’all weren’t at work.” Cecilia held the bathroom door open for McKenzie.
“Doesn’t mean we’d let someone choke to death right in front of us.”
“I know that, I just meant...” Cecilia paused as they went into the bathroom. She flipped the water faucet on full blast so McKenzie wouldn’t have to touch the knobs with her bloodstained hands.
“It was no big deal. Really.” McKenzie scrubbed the blood from her finger and from where it had smeared onto her hands. Over and over with a generous amount of antibacterial soap she scrubbed her skin and then cleaned her knife. She’d rub alcohol on it later that evening, too. Maybe even run it through the autoclave machine at work for good measure.
Cecilia talked a mile a minute, going on and on about how she’d thought she was going to pass out when McKenzie had cut the man’s throat. “I could never do your job,” she added.
“Yeah, and no one would want me to do yours. They’d look like a two-year-old got hold of them with kitchen shears.”
When she finally felt clean, she and Cecilia returned to the dinner theater to see the paramedics talking to the man who’d choked. Although he couldn’t verbalize, the man nodded or shook his head in response.
As he was doing well since his oxygenation had returned to normal, they had him climb onto the stretcher and they rolled him out of the large room. Lance followed, giving one of the guys a full report of what had happened. McKenzie fell into step with them.
“Dr. Sanders saved his life,” Lance told them.
He would have established an airway just as easily as she had. It wasn’t that big a deal.
The paramedic praised her efforts.
She shook off the compliment. It’s what she’d trained for.
“You’re going to need to go to the hospital, too,” Lance reminded her.
Her gaze cut to his, then she frowned. Yeah, she’d thought of that as she’d been scrubbing the blood from the finger she’d used to open the cut she’d made. Blood exposure was a big deal. A scary big deal.
“I know. I rode here with Cecilia. I’ll have her take me, unless I can hitch a ride with you guys.” She gave the paramedic a hopeful look.
“I’ll take you,” Lance piped up, which was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen. The less she was alone with him the better.
She arched a brow at him. “You got blood on you, too?”
He didn’t answer, just turned his attention to the paramedic. “I’ll bring her to the hospital and we’ll draw necessary labs.”
In the heat of the moment she’d have done exactly the same thing and saved the man’s life. After the fact was when one started thinking about possible consequences of blood exposure. In an emergency situation one did what one had to do to preserve another’s life.
She didn’t regret a thing, because she’d done the right thing, but her own life could have just drastically changed forever, pending on the man’s health history.
