Matched by Design, page 2
Chapter Two
Drew leaned one shoulder against the wall, his dishwater blond ponytail hanging halfway down his back and biceps straining the fabric of his T-shirt. He gave her a slow once-over, that lazy smile making her skin crawl.
“Hi,” Jasmine said, making her voice cool and detached. She’d watched his season of Eye in the Sky, a reality TV competition-style show that she loved, and hadn’t liked him then, either. He’d been a snake who cost his closest ally, Tamera, the game. But while she’d disliked Drew on her television screen, she loathed him in her fitting area.
“Where is everyone?” Drew’s eyes shifted around the empty room, taking in the couches framing the raised pedestal in front of full-length mirrors, as Jasmine’s spine tingled in warning. “This place is dead.”
“Skye is just changing clothes. She’ll be out any moment now.” At least Jasmine hoped she would.
Drew’s gaze shifted back to Jasmine, his mouth turning up in a sultry grin. “I don’t mind waiting.”
That made one of them. Jasmine motioned to the couches, inching away. “Then feel free to take a seat. I should get back to work—”
He rested an arm above her head and leaned in, effectively trapping her against the wall. “You know, I’ve always loved visiting California. Everyone is so friendly here. So … accommodating.”
“Surely Texans are even kinder,” Jasmine said, inching down the wall. “Southern hospitality and all that.”
Drew shrugged, his arm nearly brushing her cheek with the motion. “We’re playing the Coyotes this weekend so the whole team’s in town. Just for a day, though. Wish it was longer.”
His biceps were massive—nearly as big as her head. She swallowed, heart hammering, as she slid further down the wall and away from Drew. “You must have a very understanding coach if he’s letting you take time off to visit a bridal store.”
“My shoulder’s still not healed enough to play, and Skye thought it was a good time for my tuxedo fitting.”
Jasmine had no idea how pro football worked, but surely the Vigilantes’ coach wasn’t that easy going. Didn’t Drew have to attend practices and games, even if he couldn’t play? “What a generous boss.”
“Being the MVP has its benefits.”
“Hmm.”
Screw it. If Skye needed something, Sasha could track Jasmine down in the work room. She wasn’t staying with Drew for one more second.
Jasmine ducked under his arm, grabbing for the bolts of fabric. Drew reached for them at the same time, his fingers caressing hers.
She jerked away, anger making her entire body heat. “What are you doing?”
“Just trying to help,” Drew said, not releasing his grip on the fabric.
If she was adrift at sea and he was the last person on earth with a paddle, she still wouldn’t accept his help. “Thanks, but I think I’m capable of handling this alone.”
“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” Drew let go of the fabric, reaching for her hair. Soon one hand was tangled in her locks, pulling strands loose from the pencil twist.
Jasmine’s entire body grew still. Paralyzed. Drew’s breath was hot on her cheeks, reeking of garlic and onion, as he brushed one of the loose strands behind her ear.
She should knee him in the groin. This had happened once before, back in high school. Isaac had come around the corner as she was struggling against a kiss and laid the guy flat.
But there would be no Isaac to save her now.
“Relax. You’ve got a string in your hair. Hold still.” Drew leaned closer, and Jasmine jerked back. “Man, you’re jumpy. You got a jealous boyfriend or something? I don’t need some alpha male hunting me down because I tried to help his girl. Coach doesn’t look kindly on barroom brawls, and you look like the type of girl who attracts possessive guys.”
“You have three seconds before I start screaming,” Jasmine said. Her entire body trembled in fear, but she wouldn’t back down. Not this time. “Three, two, one—”
“Drew!”
The shrill voice had Jasmine’s ears ringing. Drew jerked back, leaving Jasmine to scramble away on shaking legs.
Skye stood next to the pedestal, now wearing barely-there shorts and an off-the-shoulder shirt that showed a thin strip of her stomach.
“Hey, babe,” Drew said easily. Did he not see the rage in Skye’s expression? Because right now he seemed totally unconcerned. “Ready to go?”
Drew might be unconcerned, but Jasmine felt like a cornered deer. Skye’s face grew redder by the second.
Her eyes hardened into slits as her gaze flicked back and forth between Jasmine and Drew. “Were you seriously hitting on my dress designer?”
“Just helping her clean up.” Drew held up a silver thread from the bolt of fabric. “She had this stuck in her hair.”
Jasmine closed her eyes, feeling sick. She’d read the rumors about Drew in the tabloids. He was a womanizer with a healthy lust for fame. Supposedly had an affair with a teammate’s girlfriend, only to abandon her when she wound up pregnant.
But Jasmine hadn’t thought he’d hit on her with his fiancée mere feet away. Had she misinterpreted the whole thing?
No, he’d definitely been flirting. And she’d pretty clearly asked him to stop.
Genevieve walked into the room and paused, looking around. “What’s wrong?”
From out of nowhere, a shoe flew across the pedestal. Drew ducked with a yell. The shoe flew harmlessly over his shoulder, landing on the carpet with a dull thud.
“Skye!” Drew let out an expletive. “What was that for?”
Her eyes glistened with tears, fat drops clinging to the ends of her dark lashes. “You always do this,” Skye choked out. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? If it’s got two legs, boobs, and won’t get you kicked off the team, then you’ll start flirting.”
Drew scowled, folding his arms across his chest. “Babe, chill out.”
Skye’s high-pitched cackle made the hairs on Jasmine’s neck stand on end.
“That’s it. I don’t want so much as one attractive, unattached twenty-something at our wedding.” Skye yanked her phone from her pocket, like she was going to start dis-inviting people immediately. “Guests. Support staff. I don’t care who they are, they can all stay home. This isn’t spring break in Florida, Drew. This is our wedding.”
Genevieve nodded, as though this was all extremely reasonable. “This is your wedding, darling. If you feel uncomfortable having Jasmine accompany us to Isla del Amor, then I’ll ask one of the interns to accompany us instead.”
Jasmine’s heart stuttered in her chest. Had all of the air been sucked out of the room? Genevieve couldn’t seriously be suggesting that someone else come with her to the Florida Keys.
Jasmine needed this trip. Needed the constant time and a half pay that would get her that much closer to opening her own label.
“The bridesmaid dresses,” Jasmine said quickly. “They’re my design, and I’m not sure an intern—”
“You’re being ridiculous, Skye.” Drew’s hands were on his hips now, his brows drawn in a glare. “Babe, take a chill pill. It’s all goo—”
Skye yanked off her other shoe with a scream and hurled it at Drew.
This time he caught it, tossing it to the side. His eyes were dark now, lips curved down in a displeased frown. “Stop throwing shoes at me, woman!”
“Stop hitting on every single woman in a hundred-mile radius,” Skye shot back. “Why did you even bother proposing if you’re just going to drool over every attractive woman under thirty? Most men would kill to marry me, Drew.”
Genevieve put a soothing arm around Skye’s shoulders, shooting Jasmine a glare that clearly said this was all her fault.
“Drew didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure,” Genevieve said. “But I completely understand why you feel Jasmine shouldn’t accompany us. It’s your wedding, and you should feel comfortable with who’s present for it.”
Skye nodded, her bottom lip trembling. “No single women, Drew. Do you hear me? No temptations. The only women at my wedding will have boyfriends so big and so jealous that you’ll get kicked off the team if you mess with their girl, because they’ll start a fight so huge it’ll be national news. No. Single. Women. Sorry, Jasmine. You understand, I’m sure.”
“I’m not single!” Jasmine blurted out.
Everyone froze, turning to face her. Her cheeks heated. Thank heavens her dark skin wouldn’t show a blush.
“You … you aren’t?” Skye asked.
Genevieve’s mouth was set in a frown, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Jasmine avoided her boss’s gaze and plunged on. “No. I’m not.”
Skye folded her arms, looking back and forth between Jasmine and Genevieve. “Is it serious?”
“Very,” Jasmine lied. “He proposed last weekend, actually.”
Skye’s shrewd eyes narrowed in on Jasmine’s empty left ring finger. “I don’t see a ring. Doesn’t he care if others know you’re taken?”
Jasmine reflexively fisted her hand, inventing wildly. “It’s being resized, but I’ll have it back in a few days. You’ll love it—the center stone is nearly three carats. He said he wanted the diamond to blind any man who came near me. Isn’t that cute?”
“You’ve never mentioned him to me,” Genevieve said, her tone flat. “How nice. I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Uh, yeah. It’s been kind of sudden, I guess.”
Jasmine was such a bad liar. But Skye seemed to buy the fib, because her shoulders had relaxed. Drew looked less panicked, but maybe a little more pissed. And Genevieve—well, she just looked suspicious.
“Oh, Jasmine.” Skye threw her arms around Jasmine’s neck, knocking her off balance. “That’s so great! I really want you to be there for the wedding. He’ll have to come to Isla del Amor with you, of course. This is going to be so much fun!”
Jasmine lurched forward as Skye bounced up and down, still tightly holding onto Jasmine’s neck. “You want me to bring him?”
“Of course,” Skye said. “To keep Drew in line. He needs a reminder that he shouldn’t look or touch.”
Drew’s face was an angry red. “This is complete crap! Can’t a guy pull a string from a girl’s hair without his fiancée losing her mind? If you have such little faith in me, maybe we shouldn’t get married.”
Jasmine couldn’t help agreeing with Drew’s assessment, but that didn’t stop her from pressing a hand against her stomach, trying to calm the nerves that were making her nauseous.
If that overtime pay disappeared, she would seriously cry right here in the middle of the fitting area.
But Skye put a soothing hand on Drew’s cheek. “This is for your own good, baby. You know how the media is. The last thing we want is for our wedding to be front page news for the wrong reasons. That’s not going to help either of our careers, and it’s so tacky to have a wedding that’s surrounded by scandal.”
Drew glared down at Skye, his breaths harsh and uneven. But then she pressed her ample bosom tightly against his chest, and his shoulders relaxed. “I swear, Skye—”
“I love you, babe,” she said, her hand wrapping around his ponytail. “You know how jealous I get. Forgive me?”
Drew rolled his eyes but nodded. “I always do, don’t I?”
“Yes. And you always will.” Skye rose on her tiptoes, pulling Drew’s head down to meet hers.
And then they were making out. Jasmine looked away as slurping sounds filled the silent room, fighting the urge to gag. Talk about a one-eighty.
Eventually they surfaced for air. Skye didn’t even bother to look at Jasmine, her hand fisted around Drew’s shirt as she yanked him toward the lobby.
“Send your fiancé’s information to my assistant so she can get a flight booked,” Skye said. “See you in two days. Have a bridesmaid dress ready for me by then.”
Jasmine’s knees felt weaker than jelly as Skye dragged Drew away. She could feel Genevieve’s gaze drilling holes in her back, demanding Jasmine turn around and give her answers.
“Engaged, huh?” Genevieve said.
Jasmine made sure to paste on a smile before turning around. “Yeah. It’s been such a whirlwind.”
“Hmm.” Genevieve’s arms were folded, the tape measure hanging slightly unevenly around her neck. “I’ve never heard you mention him.”
“I guess I’ve been preoccupied with the wedding. Skye’s wedding, I mean. Although obviously I’m excited about my own wedding, too.”
Genevieve didn’t believe her—Jasmine sensed it in the set of her boss’s jaw, in the stiff way she held her posture.
But Jasmine wasn’t about to admit to her deceit. Genevieve would fire her in a minute if she found out, and Skye wouldn’t let Jasmine anywhere near the wedding.
“Well then. I look forward to meeting him in Isla del Amor. Make sure you send his information to Skye’s assistant as soon as possible.”
“I will,” Jasmine said.
The moment Genevieve disappeared from the room, Jasmine collapsed to the floor. She clutched the bolts of fabric to her chest, struggling to control her breathing.
She’d lied to her boss. Lied to a client. And now she had to—what? Find a fake fiancé and bring him to the Florida Keys?
Like she didn’t have enough on her to-do list already.
Chapter Three
Isaac raced down the hallway, the thud of his feet drowning out the sound of the code echoing from the speakers overhead. He skidded to a halt inside the triage room, quickly assessing the situation. Three nurses and two paramedics surrounded the patient, who lay unconscious on a gurney, but he was the first doctor on the scene. Hopefully, an attending would show up soon, because as a fourth-year resident he still had a lot to learn.
Isaac surveyed the patient, noting the blood on his face and that his left leg was bent at an odd angle—obviously a broken tibia. The patient appeared to be unconscious, his eyes shut and body limp.
Isaac grabbed a pen light from the pocket of his white coat, striding toward the patient. Two nurses moved aside to give him room.
“Talk to me,” Isaac said, glancing at the paramedics.
“Male, twenty-nine years old,” the older of the two men said. “He was up in the mountains with friends when they decided to climb a cliff without equipment. Witnesses claim he fell close to thirty feet.”
Isaac froze, his pen light flicking off as one of his interns slid into the room, breathing heavily.
“I know,” the paramedic said, clearly assuming Isaac was shocked by the stupidity of the patient’s actions. “His friends swear they weren’t drinking, but judging from their dilated pupils and slurred speech patterns, I’d say they were lying.”
“Then let’s get a tox screen,” Isaac said, speaking to his intern. “Run a panel for illegal substances, too, so we don’t overdose him on something.”
She nodded, turning to the cabinet and rifling through for a needle and blood vial.
Isaac checked the patient’s eyes, trying to push back the memories making his gut churn with nausea. “Pupils are blown. Order a CT scan while you’re at it so we can rule out a brain bleed.”
“Right away, Dr. Sloan,” the intern said, prepping the unresponsive man’s arm for a blood draw. “I’ll drop this off on my way.”
Free climbing without equipment. Isaac listened as the paramedic finished his update on the patient, but heard the words as though through water.
That outing two months ago was supposed to have been a fun, relaxing day outdoors—a chance to leave behind the stresses of the hospital and just have fun. Quincy had been Isaac’s best friend for more than twenty years. They’d stuck by each other through undergrad and med school. But their paths had diverged when residency hit. Quincy had joined the Air Force to escape his crushing student loan debt. Isaac had considered doing the same until his mother’s cancer diagnosis had changed things.
But right now, he couldn’t think about that. As he continued to assess the patient, Isaac tried to keep his hands from visibly shaking. “Abdomen is distended. I think we’ve got some internal bleeding.”
Quincy’s abdomen had been distended too after the accident, filling with blood from a lacerated spleen. He’d been close to forty feet up when the anchor bolt came loose from the rock face. As he’d plunged toward the packed dirt of the forest floor, Isaac had been helpless to stop it.
The crunch of breaking bone still haunted his dreams. They’d been sixty miles from the nearest hospital and nearly five from their car. Miraculously, Isaac’s cell phone had still had one bar, and he’d been able to call for help.
It had still taken the ambulance over an hour to get to them. An hour of pure hell.
“Pulse is dropping,” the nurse said.
Isaac let out a curse, grabbing his stethoscope from around his neck and listening to the patient’s shallow breaths. Quincy might be dead, but this patient wasn’t.
“Let’s get him intubated before we lose the airway,” Isaac said.
A nurse nodded, grabbing the equipment and handing it over as two more interns and another resident arrived.
The monitor began beeping shrilly, and Isaac let out another curse. He quickly finished intubating the patient, and an intern began to bag him. Isaac watched the screen, but the man’s oxygen continued to drop while his heart rate slowed.
“Let’s get him to the OR,” Isaac said. “I think he’s bleeding out. Someone page Dr. Conrad and have him meet us there.” Not only was Dr. Conrad the chief of surgery, he was the best general surgeon in the hospital and this patient’s best hope.
As they raced down the hallway, Isaac tried to swallow back his fear. The similarities to Quincy’s own accident two months earlier were upsetting.
If Isaac’s mother hadn’t been diagnosed with cancer, would Quincy still be alive? Sometimes that question kept Isaac up at night. Isaac might have joined the Air Force, too, instead of staying in California to be with his mother through her treatments. Used to seeing each other frequently, he and Quincy might have chosen to hang out together on base that day instead of snatching a rare chance to go rock climbing together.
