This Crazy Little Thing (A New Adult Billionaire Romance) (7 page)

“The good news is the Honda’s in your name. It’s yours. Free and clear.”

“Really? How’d you get him to do that? Oh my gosh!” She covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes widened. “You didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

“No way! That would be a little weird, don’t you think?”
I thought about it a few times though.

“Well, this whole thing is weird. I’ve been showering every morning with my eyes closed so I won’t see anything I shouldn’t, if you know what I mean. It isn’t easy shaving your legs when you’re not looking.”

“Imagine my pickle. You shaved
everywhere
.” Jane stifled a giggle. “Needless to say, you’ll have some grooming to do whenever we switch back.”

“Oh! I forgot about that.” Monica laughed and
Jane couldn’t help joining in. “Everyone’ll be getting in soon. Should we work on our assignments together?” Monica asked after they’d both spent all their nervous energy.

“Yes, that sounds like a good plan.”

“Good. I guess until we switch back, we’ll be a team. What do you say?”

“I’d like that.”
Jane smiled. For the first time since the switch, she felt at peace with what had happened.

It seemed that there was more to be gained than what she’d thought in this crazy, mixed-up situation. She sensed she just might get something far more precious than a raise.

She might end up with a true friend who had literally walked in her shoes.

Wanting to keep their newfound peace, she didn’t mention the date she had with Jason that weekend. She wasn’t exactly ready to break it to Monica how close she was to getting him back. Until it was a done deal, and there was less risk of it falling apart, she would rather keep it to herself. She didn’t want Monica to get her hopes up.

But one thing was certain, she wouldn’t sleep with him no matter what. As tempting as it was, it wouldn’t be right. Jason was Monica’s ex-boyfriend. She respected the fact that even though Jason would be sleeping with Monica’s body, he would still be cheating—in a crazy roundabout way. And she knew Jason wouldn’t want to be a cheater.

That Friday night, as she stood before the closet searching for just the right outfit, she repeated over and over in her head,
He’s not mine. It’s Monica he wants. He’s not mine. It’s Monica he wants.
And keeping with her vow to herself to keep things under wraps, she chose a dressy pair of pants and a V-necked blouse with long bell sleeves that was feminine but not too sexy.

Tonight she’d try a different ploy, she’d appeal to his mind rather than his body. Really challenge him, talk to him, listen. He’d learn what a caring, attentive, intelligent person Monica was.

The doorbell rang and her heart skipped more than a couple of beats as she took a few seconds to do a final mirror check before answering the door.

She was doing this for Monica, she told herself as she studied Monica’s reflection in the mirror. As long as she remembered that, she’d be okay.

After working closely with Monica for a week, and literally walking in her shoes, Jane had developed a genuine fondness for her former rival. Now, with a more realistic view of Monica’s life, Jane was eager to fix Monica’s messed-up finances and faltering romantic relationship. It was the least she could do until they switched back, whenever that might happen.

Monica was doing
Jane a few favors as well, including earning her a hefty raise and helping her lose a few more pounds. By the end of the week they both admitted the arrangement was working out far better than either had ever expected, despite their earlier difficulties.

The doorbell rang again, and
Jane rushed to the front door to answer it, finding Jason on the porch with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in one fist. He grinned, displaying an even row of pearly whites and a cute dimple she hadn’t noticed before on his left cheek, and thrust his arm forward to hand her the flowers.

Smiling so wide her cheeks ached, she took the bouquet from him and stepped to the side to let him into the house. As he brushed past her, she gazed up into his eyes. “Wow. How sweet. Thank you.” A fly buzzed by her ear, and too busy staring at his dark blue—or where they violet?—eyes, she blindly fanned her hand to shoo the fly away. “They’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Are you talking about the flowers?”

The pesky fly continued buzzing around her head and she waved her hand again, this time making contact but knocking it into her head instead of swatting it away. An angry buzz rattled next to her ear and then she felt a sharp sting. “Ouch!” She dropped the flowers and palmed the spot where the burning was originating. The insect to blame, tangled in her hair, wriggled under her hand. “Oh! Ouch!”

“What? What?” Jason looked alarmed. He sounded alarmed too.

“I think I was stung by a bee!” Combing her fingers through her hair to free the insect, she ran to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror.

Instantly, she realized something was wrong. The right side of her face felt funny. Tingly and hot. Her eyelid looked strange, a little puffy, and her lips and tongue were starting to feel funny too. She spun around, finding Jason behind her. “Do I look strange to you?”

“Strange? Noooo?”

“Here. My face. Does it look swollen? Should it be doing that?”

Jason scrutinized her face. “It does look a little swollen.”

A very alarming thought occurred to her as she explored her face with her fingertips. Something was definitely wrong. “Am I allergic to bees?”

His eyes wide with worry, he said, “I don’t know. Should I call someone?”

She turned back around to see if the swelling was getting worse. It was. Her whole right side of her face was getting puffier by the minute. “Yeah. 9-1-1!” Her heart started racing and her hands trembled. “Oh my God, I’m going to kill her.”

“Her? Who?” Jason punched the buttons on the cordless and said something into the receiver.

Jane was unable to be still, or give enough attention to what Jason was doing to understand what he was saying. Scared, she paced back and forth. “She can’t die. I didn’t know. How could I have known? Oh God! It was an accident.”

“The ambulance is on the way.”

Jane ran to the bathroom again. Her throat felt tight and the skin around her eyes did too. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she gasped.

She looked like someone had pumped up her head with air. Her skin looked stretched to the point of splitting. “It’s getting worse. Oh my God!”

Jason grabbed her shoulders, practically dragged her away from the mirror, and steered her toward the couch. “Sit down before you run into something and give yourself a concussion.”

“But I can’t swallow. And it sounds funny when I talk. Anaphylaxis.” That wasn’t easy to say with lips like over-inflated bicycle inner tubes.

He nodded and answered calmly, “Yes.”

Feeling like she wasn’t getting her point across, she fisted his shirt in her hands and gave him a little shake. “People die from it.”

“You’re not going to die. I promise.” He turned his head to glance out the front window. “The ambulance will be here any second.

She felt drool dripping from the corner of her misshapen mouth and had to force herself not to begin crying.

He found a tissue in his pocket and dabbed her face, wiping away the wetness.

“Embarrassing,” she mumbled.

“No. Don’t be embarrassed. You can’t help it. I should have checked the flowers for bees. Who would’ve thought? It’s a little late in the season for bees.” He glanced out the window again. “They’re here,” he said on a sigh, the sound in his voice revealing exactly how nervous and worried he had actually been. He stood to open the front door and let the paramedics in. They entered, hands full of equipment, took one look at Jane and said, “Sir, we’re just going to get her loaded and head for the hospital. Can you follow us?”

“Sure.”

One of the paramedics quickly led Jane to the ambulance and helped her up onto the gurney inside. Jason followed, and the last thing Jane saw before the paramedic closed the ambulance’s rear doors was his worried expression.

“Okay, I need you to lie down,” the paramedic said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and inflated it.

Jane shook her head and wrapped her hand around her throat. “Can’t swallow. Choke.”

“We’ll take care of that right now.” He released the pressure from the cuff, took the measurement and pulled it off her arm then checked her pulse. “What’s your name?”

“Jane…I mean Monica. Monica Starke.”

“Okay, Monica. I’m going to give you some medicine.” He quickly gathered a syringe and a vial of clear fluid, filled the syringe and stabbed her upper arm, injecting the medication into her muscle.

She winced as the medicine burned her flesh. “What’s that?”

“Something to stop the reaction, I hope. It should work fairly quickly.” Hoping he was right,
Jane counted heartbeats as she waited to see if the medicine would help. She got to two hundred—her heart rate was mighty quick at the moment—before he asked, “Feeling better yet?”

“I’m not sure.” She noticed her speech sounded a little less garbled.

“It looks like it’s working. Can you lie down now?”

Jane
took a trial swallow and was relieved when the little bit of spit she’d forced down made it past the knot in her throat. “I think so.”

“Good.” He helped her position herself on the gurney and strapped her in.

She tested the tightness of the belts by trying to lift her hips. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Are the restraints really necessary? I promise I won’t go berserk or anything and I’m not an escaped convict.”

“I believe you, but we want you to be safe.” He adjusted the tension on the one across her chest. “How’s that?”

“Nice and cozy,” she joked, finally starting to feel a little less panic-stricken and more like herself. The heat on her face was cooling to a light simmer versus a raging boil.

He grinned and it was only then that she realized how young he looked.
Not that she was old or anything, but he was a child--couldn’t have graduated junior high. Since when did they hire children to be paramedics?

“I realize this might sound a little disrespectful, but are you sure you’re qualified to do this job?” she asked as she watched him record her vitals on a piece of paper.

“I’ve had all the necessary training.”

“But, no offense, you look like you’re twelve.”

Smiling as he checked her blood pressure a second time, he said, “I hear that all the time.” When he finished, he pulled off the cuff. “I assure you I’m older than I look.”

“That’s a relief, not that I have anything against kids. I like them just fine. Just wouldn’t want to have to rely on one to save my life.”

“You’d be surprised how adept children can be. Just the other day, we picked up a mother who’d given birth at home. Her six-year old daughter delivered the baby.”

“No kidding?”

The rest of the way to the hospital she rode in silence, ruminating the irony of having been stung by a bee and having to spend her first official date with Jason in the hospital emergency room.

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics wheeled her inside, rattled off all the pertinent information and then gave her a smile and a “good luck” before leaving her in the care of the hospital staff. A nurse, who looked no older than the paramedic had, double-checked her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature—like she couldn’t trust the paramedic to have gotten it right—and then gave her a gown to change into and left, saying, “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

Jason arrived soon after. He didn’t have flowers this time but he did give her a great smile. “You look better. What did they do?”

“Gave me a shot of something. You mean to tell me you didn’t like my new look? I was thinking of paying a plastic surgeon a visit and making it permanent. I’ve heard they can implant rolled-up pigskin into your lips to give them that just-been-stung-by-a-bee look. What do you think?”

He stood just inside the curtain that partitioned off her area from the next one. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I prefer the natural look.”

“To each his own.” She shrugged then added, “How about this get-up?” She smoothed the lovely—gag!—blue hospital gown over her chest. “Isn’t it sexy?”

He nodded, waggled his eyebrows suggestively and purred, “Incredibly.”

Oh! That reaction did some great things for her heart rate. Did he have a thing for playing doctor? If only!

“Really?” she asked, her imagination running wild and delving into territory she probably shouldn’t have let it. In her mind’s eye she could see herself lying on the bed, a crisp white sheet the only thing between her body and his fingertips… Um hum. He could give her a thorough workup anytime.

The heat returned to her cheeks.

He chuckled. “No, I’m teasing. I swear. Don’t look so worried. I just didn’t want you to feel bad.”

“Oh believe me, I wasn’t worried but I was beginning to wonder. By the way, you can come closer. I swear I’m not contagious.”

He took two steps closer but still stood outside of her reach. “Sorry, I get a little nervous in hospitals. I always feel like I’m in the way.”

“In the way of what? There’s no one in here but you and me. I doubt a doctor will show up for at least a couple of hours.”

“That long?”

“Yeah. Why? Do you need to cancel some reservations? By the way, I’m really sorry for wrecking everything tonight.”

“It’s not your fault. I was the one who brought you bug-ridden flowers. I almost killed you.”

“How silly. Flower homicide. Just think. There might have been a scandal and you could have been pegged the Infamous Flower Murderer.”

He chuckled, the low rumbly sound rippling through her body in waves of arousal, and looked at his wristwatch. “I need to make a call.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“I don’t think you can do that in here. You should probably go outside.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

No sooner was he gone than
Doogie Houser, MD entered. Man, either she was getting old (no way!), or hospitals and medical facilities were hiring kids still in high school. “Hello,” Dr. Houser said, offering his hand and a friendly smile. “I’m Dr. Herner. What brings you to the emergency room today?”

Feeling a little smart, since he was holding her chart in his hand and therefore knew darn well why she was there, she said, “Well, I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if I got stung by a bee and almost died from anaphylactic shock.” If there was one thing that irritated her, it was when someone asked an obvious question when they knew the answer.

His smile wasn’t so bright anymore. “I see.” He flipped the top sheet of her chart and read something then lowered it again. “How are you feeling now, madam?”

“It’s Miss Starke. Much better, thanks. Can I leave?”

“No, not yet. Your symptoms could return. We’ll need to keep an eye on you for a while. And we’ll give you some medicine to help keep the symptoms under control.”

“More medicine?”

“Yes.” He pulled a couple of rubber gloves from the dispenser on the wall and put them on. “Can you show me where you were stung?”

She pointed at her head. “Here.”

He parted her hair and looked. “Mmmm. The stinger’s still imbedded in your skin. We’ll need to remove it.”

“Yikes.”

He walked around to a small cabinet against the wall and pulled out a tongue depressor.

“What’re you going to do with that? You going in through my throat? Shouldn’t you give me something to knock me out first?”

He looked at her, silently questioning whether she was really stupid enough to think he’d really have to do that or not. She grinned just to reassure him. Clearly not appreciating her attempts—as lame as they may be—at breaking the ice, he shook his head and parted her hair again, searching for the stinger. “This won’t require surgery, I promise.”

“Good. I…uh, ate a little snack a couple of hours ago. I’ve heard it’s dangerous to go under general after eating.”

“By any chance did you have a few drinks with that meal?” he asked as he worked on her head, scraping her scalp with the wooden stick.

“Not unless you count diet cola as a drink. I’m perfectly sober, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Just wanted to make sure. We need to know if you have any substances in your bloodstream before we prescribe medications.” He thought she was stoned! Just because she’d cracked a few stupid jokes?

“Sure you do.”

He stepped back, dropped the stick in the trash and removed the gloves. “All right. The nurse will be in to give you that medication. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah, just one. When do I get to leave?”

“In an hour or two. We want to make sure you won’t have another attack. Your reaction was severe. You wouldn’t want to leave and have another one.”

“True.” She turned her head when she heard Jason’s voice outside the curtain. He was evidently speaking to a nurse.

“Can I go in?” he asked. Within a heartbeat he was standing beside the doctor.

Dr. Herner introduced himself and asked, “Are you Mr. Starke?”

“No, there is no Mr. Starke, at least none that I know of. I’m Jason Foxx, the guy responsible. Brought her a bouquet of flowers infested with bees. How’s she going to be?”

“She’ll be fine. We’re ordering some blood tests and medication to prevent the symptoms from returning. She’s a little bit anxious to leave so I hope you’ll be able to convince her to sit tight for a while.”

“I’m starving,” she interjected.

“I haven’t been able to convince her of anything but I can try,” Jason answered the doctor, ignoring her comment.

“That’s all I ask.”

“Can I eat?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t be so cruel as to let her starve.

The doctor turned his attention back to Jane. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to eat yet. We’ll let you know as soon as you can. Okay?”

“Why did I know you’d say that?” When she nodded, he smiled, pulled the curtain aside and stepped through.

“The nurse will be in shortly to give you that medication and draw some blood,” he said just before turning away.

“What’s the blood for?” she called out, hoping to catch him before he disappeared for the next six hours. Blood tests meant a longer wait. The hospital lab was notoriously slow. “I had an allergic reaction. What more do you need to know?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he answered, “Just trying to be thorough, Miss Starke.” And then he closed the curtain.

She looked at Jason and shook her head. “We’ll be lucky to get out of here by morning. I think they’re running a drug test on me to make sure I’m not stoned. Can you believe it?”

“They are not.”

“Then what else could it be? Who heard of a blood test for an allergic reaction?”