Trace rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, and looked up from beneath his eyelashes, like a sheepish kid. “Well, doc. I was watering the trees, I guess you could say.”
“Ah. And before that?”
“Cutting wood. Listening to these guys give me shit about—”
“I am not doctor,” Jorg interrupted, raising a finger, “but I am thinking I know what happened.”
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up behind her glasses. “Really?”
“Yah. See, Trace is a man in his prime. Strong. Young. We were speaking of his lovely lady here”—he gestured at Izzy—“and his great hurry this morning to drop Lenna and Tom at their house, so he could find lovely lady and have…a nice reunion.”
The doctor frowned. “I don’t see how that leads to him passing out.”
“Yah.” Jorg nodded. “He is thinking of lovely Isabelle and all blood is leaving his head and flowing to his—”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Trace muttered. “That is not what happened,” he said to Jorg. To the doctor, he went on, “That has never happened.”
“All righty.” Dr. Devan brought her hands together. “Thanks to all of you for sharing your observations. As we’ve reached the point of medical speculation, I think it’s time I ask you all to step out and let me put my education to use.”
Izzy stood as everyone else filed out and started to relinquish his hand. “I’ll wait and drive you home.”
“Actually, Trace, if you don’t mind, I’d like Isabelle to stay for a moment?”
He glanced at her. “Fine by me.”
“How can I help?” she asked.
The doctor closed the drape, turned, and smiled. “Jorg definitely isn’t a doctor, but just to rule things out, has Trace ever appeared lightheaded or disoriented during sex?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks got hot thinking about their one and only in-person sexcapade. Even so, while she didn’t possess the depth of experience the doctor no doubt assumed, she felt pretty confident in her reply. “Um, no. I’ve not seen that happen.”
“Did I not just mention it’s never happened?” Trace asked, clearly exasperated.
The doctor’s smile remained placid. “Patients aren’t always upfront about certain symptoms.” She shrugged. “I wanted a second opinion. Now I have it. Let’s see what else I can rule out.”
Izzy sat beside Trace while the doctor took his pulse, listened to his heart and lungs, shined a penlight in his eyes, and asked him questions about how much sleep he’d gotten lately, how recently he’d eaten, hydration, and how long he’d been chopping wood and doing other physical labor before he’d passed out. Conclusion? He’d created a perfect storm comprised of fatigue, low blood sugar, and dehydration.
They walked out to the waiting room with doctor’s orders to go home, consume at least two thousand nutritionally dense calories, drink plenty of water, and rest. Stay out of the cockpit for forty-eight hours and contact her ASAP if he experienced any more episodes of dizziness or fainting. Everyone gave a collective sigh of relief. Jorg patted Trace on the shoulder on his way out of the clinic, and said in a low voice, “I have different pills for you. Fix you right up, yah.”
“What’s he talking about?” she whispered to Trace.
“Don’t ask.”
On the sidewalk in front of the clinic, Bridget hugged him. “I’m glad you’re okay, you big lug.” Then she stepped back and punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow,” Trace grunted. “Why?”
“You scared me. Don’t do it again.” To Izzy, she asked, “Are you going to take him home?”
“I thought I would, unless…” Was she stepping on toes? Would Bridget want to take her brother home and look after him, without his “girlfriend” hanging around?
“Nope.” She took another step away. Then another. “No unlesses. He’s all yours. I just wanted to make sure because I’m not going to be home for a while.” Pushing her hands into her coat pockets, she grinned, executed a long-legged turn, and headed down the street. “Not for a looooong while. You kids have fun, y’hear?”
Chapter Twenty
Sunshine looked good on Izzy. Too bad they didn’t get more of it in Captivity, but the day’s gray drizzle had cleared on the drive home from the clinic and now he admired her, standing on the deck off his bedroom, arms folded on the railing, watching the big ball of fire slide free of orange-soaked clouds to scatter amber onto the water in the harbor. Peace looked good on her, too. For once, she showed no signs of the nervous energy that often propelled some part of her into motion. She simply leaned into the moment and absorbed the view.
Warm light bathed her, bounced off golden highlights in her hair. Hair she’d taken down from her usual updo. It fell past her shoulders in a silky cascade over her plush, tan sweater. Skinny, black jeans and low black boots with high heels turned her legs into endless enticements. Then again, everything about her enticed him. The events of the afternoon receded like a bad dream—a misfire of his mental circuits caused by unresolved guilt, too much exertion, and not enough sustenance. But sustenance came in many forms, and the woman before him currently topped his list.
She outclassed his gray sweats and long-sleeved T-shirt by miles, but hey, at least he was showered. Figuring it never hurt to be prepared, he stopped at his nightstand and slipped a condom into the pocket of his sweats. When he stepped out onto the deck and drew up beside her, he saw she wasn’t calmly taking in the view as he’d assumed. Her eyes were closed. She rested her wrists on the rail, palms up, thumb and middle finger of each hand lightly touching.
He edged closer. “What are you doing?”
She expelled a breath and shook her head. “Nothing.” With an impatient sigh for herself, she opened her eyes and glanced at him. “I was trying to meditate—focus on my mantra and clear my mind of all extraneous thoughts.”
Her busy mind? Clear of thoughts? Good luck with that. “How’d it work out for you?”
“Not well.” Sighing, she faced the view and gripped the rail. “I chose ‘Ananda’ for my mantra, because it means ‘bliss,’ but as I repeated it in my mind, over and over, it started to sound more like ‘anaconda,’ which made me think about how much I don’t like snakes, and then I started wondering if there are any snakes in Alaska. Now, on top of all my other stress, I’m stressed about artic snakes.”
“Well, I can relieve your stress on that point. There are no wild snakes in Alaska. Not a lot of reptiles in general. We have bears, wolves, and aggressive geese, but no arctic snakes.”