Read Online 2000 Kisses by Christina Skye - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christina Skye
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sign.”
“Sounds high to me,” TJ. said;
“Not life-threatening.” The doctor brushed her skin. “Cool to the touch. She's starting to sweat, and that's good, too. Any signs of nausea?”
“It happened too fast for that.”
“Help me elevate her feet.” Together, they slid a pillow in place, then raised her ankles. “First stage of heatstroke, I'd say, along with dehydration. She looks strong enough, but you'd better get her hydrated. Keep wet cloths in place. Do you have any ice packs?”
T.J. nodded.
“Use them. Armpits and wrists. Ankles and groin. Give her water as soon as she comes around, but keep it limited.”
TJ. rubbed his jaw. As a law officer, he'd had his share of dehydrated tourists and lost hikers crazy from heat exhaustion. By now he knew the drill.
“I'll be back in an hour after I check on the Winslow sisters over at the nursing home.” The doctor frowned. “Fool woman has too many clothes on. You might want to do something about that, Sheriff.”
Like what—strip her naked?
wondered grimly.
After Doc Felton left, McCall slipped ice packs under her arms and ankles, then drizzled cool water into her mouth. When she gagged, he stopped and tried again.
But she still didn't come around. Her arm swept outand she muttered hoarsely, as if caught in a bad dream. She spoke again, but the sounds were choppy and made no sense to T.J. As he put another cold cloth on her head, she twisted sideways, breathing hard, her fingers stiff. Something had left her badly frightened.
T.J. only wished he knew what.
Five minutes later, as T.J. held a damp cloth to her cheek, her eyes opened. He looked into them and got lost in a green smoother than cottonwood leaves in spring. Wind seemed to whistle past his face, cool and sweet.
And you're a damned fool, McCall
.
She blinked and tried to sit up.
“Take it easy, Ma'am.”
She closed her eyes, then took another long, hard look at him. “I loved you in
Braveheart
”
T.J. gave a long-suffering sigh. After a decade of being mistaken for Hollywood's azure-eyed superstar, he was resigned to the error. “How does your head feel?”
She tried to sit up, then sank back with a soft groan. “Like Apollo 13 just did a three-point turn on my frontal lobe.” She rubbed her forehead, frowning. “Do I know you? You seem … familiar.”
“If we'd met, Ma'am, I'd surely remember it. Probably just the aftereffects of the heat Serves you right for traveling through the desert without water.”
“What do you mean?”
T.J. shook his head in disgust. She really didn't have a clue. Then again, most visitors didn't. “Your body needs eight to ten glasses of liquid daily. In conditions of severe heat or exertion, the amount can double.”
Her teeth chattered. “Is that why I keeled over?”
T.J. nodded.
She sighed. “You still seem familiar.” She tried toturn and then frowned. “Why are two bags of ice wedged under my arms?”
“I had to bring your temperature down.” TJ. offered her a glass of water with a straw; “Sip as much as you can. The sooner you replace your fluids the better.”
She didn't seem to be listening. “So you're really not Mel Gibson?” She sounded disappointed.
“No, Ma'am, I'm not.” TJ. tried not to take it personally. “I'm the sheriff here.”
She closed her eyes on a groan. “Don't tell me. You're McCall, the one Andrew told me about.”
She didn't appear too happy at the idea. As it happened, TJ. shared her sentiments completely. “So you're Tess. Welcome to Almost.”
“There weren't any signs that I could see.”
“Last one fell down a few weeks ago. We haven't had a chance to replace it yet.” TJ. frowned. The damned female was wearing way too many clothes, a heavy denim skirt and heaven knew what was beneath that. Probably silk and more silk. Doc Felton was right: something had to go.
Maybe his sanity, TJ. thought wryly. He placed another wet cloth on her head and fanned her face with a
“Sounds high to me,” TJ. said;
“Not life-threatening.” The doctor brushed her skin. “Cool to the touch. She's starting to sweat, and that's good, too. Any signs of nausea?”
“It happened too fast for that.”
“Help me elevate her feet.” Together, they slid a pillow in place, then raised her ankles. “First stage of heatstroke, I'd say, along with dehydration. She looks strong enough, but you'd better get her hydrated. Keep wet cloths in place. Do you have any ice packs?”
T.J. nodded.
“Use them. Armpits and wrists. Ankles and groin. Give her water as soon as she comes around, but keep it limited.”
TJ. rubbed his jaw. As a law officer, he'd had his share of dehydrated tourists and lost hikers crazy from heat exhaustion. By now he knew the drill.
“I'll be back in an hour after I check on the Winslow sisters over at the nursing home.” The doctor frowned. “Fool woman has too many clothes on. You might want to do something about that, Sheriff.”
Like what—strip her naked?
wondered grimly.
After Doc Felton left, McCall slipped ice packs under her arms and ankles, then drizzled cool water into her mouth. When she gagged, he stopped and tried again.
But she still didn't come around. Her arm swept outand she muttered hoarsely, as if caught in a bad dream. She spoke again, but the sounds were choppy and made no sense to T.J. As he put another cold cloth on her head, she twisted sideways, breathing hard, her fingers stiff. Something had left her badly frightened.
T.J. only wished he knew what.
Five minutes later, as T.J. held a damp cloth to her cheek, her eyes opened. He looked into them and got lost in a green smoother than cottonwood leaves in spring. Wind seemed to whistle past his face, cool and sweet.
And you're a damned fool, McCall
.
She blinked and tried to sit up.
“Take it easy, Ma'am.”
She closed her eyes, then took another long, hard look at him. “I loved you in
Braveheart
”
T.J. gave a long-suffering sigh. After a decade of being mistaken for Hollywood's azure-eyed superstar, he was resigned to the error. “How does your head feel?”
She tried to sit up, then sank back with a soft groan. “Like Apollo 13 just did a three-point turn on my frontal lobe.” She rubbed her forehead, frowning. “Do I know you? You seem … familiar.”
“If we'd met, Ma'am, I'd surely remember it. Probably just the aftereffects of the heat Serves you right for traveling through the desert without water.”
“What do you mean?”
T.J. shook his head in disgust. She really didn't have a clue. Then again, most visitors didn't. “Your body needs eight to ten glasses of liquid daily. In conditions of severe heat or exertion, the amount can double.”
Her teeth chattered. “Is that why I keeled over?”
T.J. nodded.
She sighed. “You still seem familiar.” She tried toturn and then frowned. “Why are two bags of ice wedged under my arms?”
“I had to bring your temperature down.” TJ. offered her a glass of water with a straw; “Sip as much as you can. The sooner you replace your fluids the better.”
She didn't seem to be listening. “So you're really not Mel Gibson?” She sounded disappointed.
“No, Ma'am, I'm not.” TJ. tried not to take it personally. “I'm the sheriff here.”
She closed her eyes on a groan. “Don't tell me. You're McCall, the one Andrew told me about.”
She didn't appear too happy at the idea. As it happened, TJ. shared her sentiments completely. “So you're Tess. Welcome to Almost.”
“There weren't any signs that I could see.”
“Last one fell down a few weeks ago. We haven't had a chance to replace it yet.” TJ. frowned. The damned female was wearing way too many clothes, a heavy denim skirt and heaven knew what was beneath that. Probably silk and more silk. Doc Felton was right: something had to go.
Maybe his sanity, TJ. thought wryly. He placed another wet cloth on her head and fanned her face with a
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