Treacherous Slopes. Terri ReedЧитать онлайн книгу.
outdoors had etched lines on his face that enhanced his rugged good looks, making him appear mature and wild at the same time.
And yes, sent her adult woman’s heart pounding.
So not the appropriate reaction to be having for the subject of the story she wanted to tell. She would not, could not, let the attraction flaring within her have any room. He was so far from the type of man she needed in her life. Most important, if she wanted that promotion, she needed to put anything other than professionalism in a tight box and stuff it deep down in a place where it wouldn’t interfere with her career goal.
Only trouble was she had a feeling being the perfect professional would be easier said than done.
A second ambulance arrived and Nick was transferred to the back. At the hospital, Nick and his guard went with the medical personnel. Julie was stopped at the swinging doors.
“Are you his wife?” a nurse asked. “Or sister?”
“Friend.”
“Sorry, family only,” the nurse said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “You can go to admitting and they can let the patient know you’re here.”
Waiting wasn’t Julie’s biggest strong suit, but she had no choice. She quietly prayed that the tests would come back negative. It would be a horrible shame if he wasn’t fit to compete in three weeks.
Bob appeared at her side and took the seat next to her. “Are you okay? I was following the ambulance when it crashed.”
“A little shaken up,” she replied. “Did you see what happened?”
“Yeah, that car passed me and then cut in front of the ambulance. Next thing I know the ambulance is swerving and bam, into the pole. I got some footage of the banged-up ambulance and of them transferring Nick to the second ambulance.”
She bit her lip. Knowing how Nick felt about the press, she doubted he’d be okay with them airing the videotape. But it would add so much to the feature. Injured skier’s ambulance crashes. The public would go nuts for it. Especially with the film of Nick’s ski accident and him getting to his feet to walk away from the crash. It would build him up even more as a legend and hero to the American people. And if—when—he won gold next month, it would be even better.
Deciding whether to use the film or not would be a bridge she’d have to cross eventually, but for now she’d say a prayer for Nick’s health and hope that when the time came to make that decision it would be easy.
Bob chitchatted with her about mundane matters as they waited. She appreciated his calming presence. Ten years older than she, Bob had taken her under his wing when he found out she had aspirations of being on camera. He’d worked with her, getting her comfortable in front of the lens.
He’d become a good friend. They made a good team.
An hour later, Gordon joined them in the waiting area.
Julie set down the magazine she was reading and stood. “Have you seen him?”
Looking tired and worn, Gordon said, “Yes. The docs are done. There was no sign of a brain injury.”
Julie let out a little sigh of relief. “Have you contacted his parents?”
“Yes. I let them know he’s fine.”
“I’m sure they’re relieved. Can I see him?”
“As soon as the neurologist cleared him, they gave him something for the pain. He’s a bit groggy. They’ll release him in a bit.”
Julie glanced at Bob. He pointed to his camera. She read his message clearly. He wanted to film Nick in his room. It would add a nice dimension to what they already had on tape. She turned her attention back to Gordon. “Could we get a little footage of him in his hospital bed?”
Gordon frowned. “Not right now. Maybe when he wakes.”
“I’ll be here.” Resigning herself to waiting, she sat back down as Gordon returned to Nick’s room.
“I’m going for coffee,” Bob said. “Want some?”
“Please.” She settled back to look through another magazine. “If I’m not here, come find me in Nick’s room.”
He saluted and sauntered off with his camera, which he never let out of his sight.
A few minutes later a woman took a seat a couple chairs away from Julie. She was pretty with dark hair and dark eyes and held a gift-wrapped box in her hands. Something about her seemed familiar, but Julie couldn’t place from where. She exchanged a smile with her and went back to reading.
A nurse stepped into the waiting area.
“Are you here to see Nick Walsh?”
“Yes,” Julie said.
“Yes,” the brunette said at the same time.
The nurse looked as confused as Julie felt. Eyeing the brunette closely, Julie realized why she’d recognized her. She’d been the one calling out to Nick after his crash.
“Uh, tell me your names and I’ll let him know you’re both here,” the nurse said, clearly uncomfortable letting two women in to see Nick when he was only expecting one.
“Julie Frost.”
“Kitty Rogers,” the brunette stated. “He’ll see me.”
Julie arched an eyebrow at the woman’s certainty. Clearly she had some claim on Nick. Something unpleasant stirred in Julie’s tummy. She mentally stopped herself in her tracks. She needed to remain professional. Knowing he had a girlfriend would help to keep her own feelings in check. She would never poach another woman’s man.
Even if that man had had the starring role in her girlhood daydreams.
* * *
Nick shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed. Though he appreciated the excellent medical care he was receiving from Bend’s premier medical center, he wanted to be back on the slopes hitting the kicker, not confined to an eight-by-ten room with linoleum floors, stucco walls and the smell of antiseptics filling his head.
The memory of the fresh floral scent of Julie’s perfume tightened his gut. She’d smelled like a warm, sunny spring day.
Julie.
The image of a pretty blonde danced through Nick’s mind. She’d been Julie Tipton when he’d known her. Man, she’d blossomed, becoming a beautiful woman sans the glasses or the braces he remembered. She’d always been the quiet, studious type. Not the kind to go into show business.
She’d saved his bacon a few times in high school when he’d asked her for help with his English assignments and his math homework. The girl had been wicked smart. Now she was a newshound. A reporter. Go figure.
Distaste coated his mouth. He didn’t like the press. Didn’t like the way they sensationalized or capitalized on every aspect of his and his fellow athletes’ lives, the good and the bad. Whatever would generate ratings was fair game.
Just look at the way they’d sensationalized Cody’s death.
Familiar pain and grief welled until he thought he’d drown.
Gordon entered his hospital room. Tight lines of concern bracketed his eyes and mouth. “Doc says you’re A-OK. They’ll release you in few hours.”
“Sweet.”
“We have a lot riding on you being fine,” Gordon reminded him.
We being Gordon and the sponsors backing Nick. The biggest of which was an international company with its headquarters in Bend and named after one of the runs on Mt. Bachelor. The CEO of Thunderbird had supported Nick even after Cody’s death last year and had continued to provide financial support during the weeks when Nick was too grief stricken to train, let alone compete.
Nick owed them