Felicity’s toes curled in her pumps at the sexually suggestive reply. That wasn’t what Mike had meant.
‘Does he know how to treat a woman?’
He didn’t laugh this time, just eyed her intently as he replied. ‘Oh, yeah. He knows exactly how to treat a woman.’
‘Then you don’t need me to decide, Felicity.’
He released her hand, slowly, still holding her gaze with a red-hot intensity. ‘Looks like the ball is in your court.’
Felicity’s heart tripped as he fixed her with a gaze that left her in no doubt they were both going to be naked within about ten seconds of the door shutting. Her breath hitched but she was aware of Travis, still at the bar, in her peripheral vision.
What would he think if they left together? Would he gossip about it with the rest of the crew? Would everyone know in the morning that she and Callum had spent the night together?
If she was back home in Vickers Hill, everyone would know.
But she wasn’t. Was she? She wasn’t Flick here. She was Felicity and nobody knew her.
Felicity picked up her glass and swallowed the last quarter in three long gulps. She stood, her body heating as his lazy gaze took its sweet time checking her out. ‘Your compartment or mine?’
He smiled, downed the last of his whisky and held out his hand. She took it, smiling also, tugging on his hand, impatient now she’d taken the first step to get on with it.
Jock entered the lounge at that moment and Felicity halted, letting go of Callum’s hand immediately, like a guilty teenager. The older man was in a pair of tracksuit pants and a white singlet.
‘Jock,’ she said, smiling as she walked towards him, aware of Callum close on her heels. ‘Thought you’d be in the land of nod by now.’
Jock gave them a tight smile. ‘So did I but...’ He rubbed his chest. ‘My indigestion is really giving me hell tonight. I thought I’d come and ask Travis for a glass of milk. That usually does the trick.’
Felicity felt the first prickle of alarm as she neared Jock. The subdued night-time lighting in the lounge hadn’t made the sweat on his brow and the pallor of his face obvious.
‘Jock?’ She frowned. ‘Are you okay?’
Callum stepped out from behind her, also frowning. ‘You don’t look very well.’
‘You need to sit down, I think,’ Felicity said, ushering him over to the closest chair.
‘Do you have any cardiac history?’ Callum asked as Jock swayed a little, reaching for the arm of the couch.
‘No. Never had any ticker prob—’
Jock didn’t get to finish his sentence. He grabbed his chest and let out a guttural cry instead, folding to his knees.
Adrenaline surged into Felicity’s veins. ‘Jock!’ she said, throwing herself down next to him.
But it was too late. He collapsed the rest of the way, splayed awkwardly on the floor. Felicity gave him a shake but there was nothing.
‘He’s having an MI,’ Callum said as he helped Felicity ease Jock on his back.
Felicity blinked at the terminology. An MI, or myocardial infarction, was not a term a layperson used. Nonmedical people said heart attack. ‘He doesn’t have a pulse,’ she said, feeling for his carotid.
‘Oh, my God, what’s wrong with him?’ an ashen-faced Travis asked, hovering over them.
‘I’ll start compressions,’ Felicity said, ignoring the bartender as more adrenaline surged into her system and she kicked into nursing mode.
‘He’s in cardiac arrest,’ Callum said as he automatically moved around until Jock’s head was at his knees. Felicity admired the steadiness of his voice and the expert way he tilted Jock’s jaw and gave his airway support.
Technical writer be damned.
‘Do you guys keep a defib?’ Callum demanded. ‘Some kind of first aid kit? We need more help. And we need to figure out how to get him to an ambulance.’
Felicity couldn’t agree more. She had no idea if that was possible but she knew they couldn’t keep him alive indefinitely. Jock needed more than they could give him here on a luxury train in the middle of nowhere.
Things were looking grim for the travelling companion she’d grown fond of in just a few hours.
‘Yes. We have a defib,’ Travis said, his voice tremulous as Felicity counted out the compressions to herself. ‘But I’ve never actually used it on a real person before.’
‘It’s fine. I’m a doctor,’ Callum said, his voice brisk.
Felicity glanced at Callum, not surprised at the knowledge given his use of medical terminology and his total control of the scene.
‘And I’m a nurse.’
He glanced at her but didn’t say anything, just nodded and said, ‘Go,’ to Travis as he leaned down and puffed some breaths into Jock’s mouth.
It was satisfying to see Jock’s chest rise and fall. CPR guidelines had changed recently, focusing more on chest compressions for those untrained in the procedure. But for medical professionals who knew what they were doing airway and breathing still formed part of the procedure.
And old habits died hard.
* * *
Callum’s training took over and all his senses honed as he rode the adrenaline high, doing what he did best—saving lives. Travis was back in under a minute, bringing a portable defibrillator, a medical kit and the cavalry, who arrived in varying states of panic. He tuned them all out as he grabbed the defibrillator, turned it on, located some pads, yanked up Jock’s singlet and slapped them on his chest.
Even Felicity in her dress and heels, pumping away on Jock’s chest beside him, faded to black as he concentrated on Jock. Once this was over—which could be soon if they couldn’t revive Jock—he’d think about her being a nurse. About how they’d both lied. For now he just had to get some cardiac output.
Felicity stopped compressions while the machine was reading the rhythm. Callum opened the medical kit, relieved to find an adult resus mask. At least he could give Jock mouth to mask now.
The machine advised a shock.
‘All clear,’ Callum said, raising his voice to be heard above everyone talking over everyone else.
Felicity wriggled back. So did he as the room fell silent. The machine automatically delivered a shock, Jock’s chest arcing off the floor.
‘Recommence CPR,’ the machine advised, and they both moved back in, Felicity pounding on the chest again as he fitted the mask and held it and Jock’s jaw one-handed.
‘Where’s the nearest medical help?’ Callum demanded of a guy with a radio who appeared to be the head honcho.
‘We’re about twenty clicks out of Condobolin. Ambulance will meet us at the station. A rescue chopper is being scrambled from Dubbo.’
‘How long will it take to get to Condobolin?’
‘The driver’s speeding her up. Fifteen minutes tops.’
Callum wasn’t sure Jock had fifteen minutes, especially if he wasn’t in a shockable rhythm. He wished he had oxygen and intubation gear. He wished he had an IV and access to fluids and drugs. He wished he had that ambulance right here right now. And a cardiac catheter lab at his disposal.
But he didn’t. He had a defibrillator and Felicity.
He glanced at her. He didn’t have to ask to know she was thinking the same thing. Fifteen minutes was like