Vanessa was accustomed to his rapid-fire orders. Some days he rattled them off as though she were a tape recorder. But this afternoon, she’d been knocked off-kilter and the sudden personal attention Conall was giving her wasn’t helping her brain snap into action. She stared at him with confusion.
“Tickets? Pardon me, Conall, but I only need one round-trip ticket.”
Walking back to her, he held up two fingers. “You need to purchase two tickets. I’m going with you.”
She gasped and he smiled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Afraid you’ll fall asleep on the plane and I’ll see you with your mouth open?”
Was he saying something about her mouth? she wondered fuzzily. And had something gone wrong with the room’s thermostat? Sweat was popping out on her forehead and upper lip. Her legs felt oddly weak and there was a loud rushing noise in her ears.
“Conall—I—”
The remainder of her words were never uttered as she slumped forward and straight into his arms.
Chapter Two
“Poor little thing. The shock must have gotten to her.”
From somewhere above her, Vanessa could hear Fiona Donovan’s concerned voice, but try as she might, she couldn’t open her eyes or form one word.
“Her pulse is getting stronger. She’s coming around.”
This statement came from Bridget Donovan, the doctor of the family. Vanessa could feel the pressure of the young woman’s fingers wrapped around her wrist.
“Well, if the truth be known, Conall probably forced her to work through lunch,” Fiona continued in an accusing tone. “She probably hasn’t had a bite to eat all day.”
“Mom, I don’t force Vanessa to do anything,” Conall said brusquely. “She probably stopped long enough to eat a sandwich or some of that gooey stuff from a carton that she seems to favor.”
“You don’t know whether she ate or not?” Fiona shot back at her son.
“Hell, no! I’ve been in my office since before daylight and didn’t come out until a few minutes ago when I found her crying. I don’t know about her lunch! But you can see she’s not starving. She has plenty of meat on her bones.”
His last remark was enough to spike Vanessa’s blood pressure and with a weak groan, she slowly opened her eyes to see she was lying on the couch in her office. Bridget was kneeling over her, while Conall and his mother stood just behind the young doctor.
“Hello, pretty lady,” Bridget said with a bright smile. “Glad to see you’re back with the living.”
Vanessa’s fuzzy eyesight darted over the redheaded doctor and then slowly progressed up to Conall’s dour face. Next to him, Fiona was smiling with happy relief.
“What… happened?” Vanessa asked weakly. “I was talking to Conall and the next thing I knew there was a strange rushing noise in my ears.”
“You fainted,” Bridget explained. “Thankfully Conall caught you before you hit your head on the desk or the floor. When he called over to the house for help, I happened to be home on a break from the clinic. How are you feeling now?”
“Weak and groggy,” Vanessa admitted. “But better.”
“Good. Your color is returning,” she said. “Conall tells me you received a bit of a shock about your friend.”
“Yes. I was feeling a bit shaky, but I never dreamed I’d do anything like… faint! This is so embarrassing.” She glanced back at Conall to see his expression was still grim and she figured he had to be terribly annoyed for all this interference in his work schedule. Over the past couple of months, she’d learned his work was his life and he didn’t appreciate anything or anyone intervening. “I’m sorry, Conall. I’ve disrupted the whole office and your family.”
“Nonsense!” Fiona blurted out before her son had a chance to utter a word. “You had every right to have a little fainting spell. Most women have nine months to prepare to be a mother. From what Conall tells us, you didn’t have nine minutes.”
“I’m just glad I happened to be home,” Bridget quickly added. “Conall feared you were having a heart attack.” She clamped a strong hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. “Sit up for me and let’s see how you do now.”
With the young woman’s help, Vanessa rose to a sitting position. “I’m fine. Really,” she told the doctor. “I feel much stronger now and my head isn’t whirling.”
“Well, from what I can see, you had a simple, garden-variety faint. It happens to the best of us sometimes,” Bridget assured her. “But if you have any more trouble—weakness, dizziness or anything like that—please get to your doctor for a checkup. Okay?”
“Yes. I promise. Thank you, Bridget.”
“No problem,” she said, then with a broad smile, she rose to a standing position and pointed a direct look at her brother. “I’ve got to get back to the clinic, so I’m leaving the patient in your hands, Conall. You might go lightly on her the remainder of the day.”
“Vanna is going to get the rest of the afternoon off,” Fiona spoke up, using the shortened name that Maura had given Vanessa many years ago when the two had been teenagers. “In fact, Conall is going to drive her home.”
Vanessa opened her mouth to argue, but quickly decided not to make the effort. Fiona could be just as formidable as her son and with Bridget agreeing that Vanessa could clearly use some rest, she had no choice but to go along with the family’s wishes.
Once Bridget had departed the small office, Conall said to Vanessa, “I’ll get your things and we’ll be on our way.”
While Conall collected her sweater and handbag from a tiny closet located in the short hallway separating her office from his, Fiona was already taking a seat at Vanessa’s desk.
“While you two are gone,” she said to Conall, “I’ll take care of the plane tickets and see to organizing anything else you might need for the trip to Vegas. If there are still empty seats, do you want the first flight out?”
“That would be great, Mom. See what you can do.”
With her things thrown over his arm, he walked over to the couch and slipped a hand beneath Vanessa’s elbow.
“Think you can stand okay now?” he asked gently.
Since she’d gone to work for this tall, dark powerhouse of a man, he’d been polite enough to her, but mostly he was all business. It felt more than strange to have him addressing her about personal things and even more unsettling to have him touching her.
“Yes,” she assured him, then feeling her cheeks warm with an embarrassed flush, added, “I don’t think you need worry about having to catch me again.”
Not bothering to make a reply, he began to guide her toward the door. Across the room, Fiona flung a parting question at her son.
“Conall, the hotel rooms. How many nights do you need reserved? Or do you have any idea about that?”
“No idea,” he said. “Better leave that open.”