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“That’s better.”
He shucked off his coat and gloves. “Next time you get a harebrained idea of playing tourist, can you make sure it’s spring or summer?”
“Lightweight,” she teased. “Although the fact I can’t feel my toes makes your point a valid one.”
“Maybe we should push visiting the Empire State to tomorrow and make our way to our secret location where we can sink into a hot bath and unfreeze our most important body parts.”
She laughed. “Aww, is your dick cold?”
“Yeah, and my balls. I’m telling you, it’s not a good look.”
She laughed again. “A vigorous rub and a hard suck ought to sort the problem out.”
“Right, that’s it.” Zane pretended to put his coat back on. “You’ve sold it to me. We’re going.”
“Sit down, Mr. Eager Beaver. You promised to kiss me, with tongue, at the top of the Empire State, and kiss me you shall, or all previous offers of rubbing and sucking are null and void.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“It’s the businesswoman in me.”
She picked up her coffee and went to sip when her heart seemed to skip, and not in a good way. She paused, and it did it again. And again. Okay, now she was having full-on heart palpitations. Maybe she had exerted herself too much today, and it was so cold, too.
Stay calm. Breathe.
“Lori?”
Hands shaking, she put her coffee down in case she spilled the hot liquid in her lap. She breathed in through her nose, letting it out slowly. Repeated. Repeated again.
“Lori, what’s wrong? You… you’ve gone white.” Zane reached for her hand. “Tell me what’s happening.”
She shook her head and held up a finger in warning for him to give her a minute. He did, worry drawing his eyebrows closer, his top teeth chewing on his bottom lip. And still, the palpitations raced, her chest getting tighter with every passing second, and with it, rising panic and heat. So much heat. She pressed a palm to her forehead. Burning. She was burning up.
“Zane.” She gasped. “Take me to the hospital.”
CHAPTER 18
The taxi that Zane paid an exorbitant sum of money to turn a fifteen-minute journey into a five-minute one slewed to a stop beside the entrance to the emergency room.
Lori wasn’t just pale now. She was deathly white, and a sheen of sweat dotted her brow. Yet conversely, she shivered, her entire body in a state of flux. It took everything he had to swallow the panic that crawled into his throat. Lori’s wild eyes, filled with fear, were the only thing stopping him from full-on freaking out. The last thing she needed was for him to show her how fucking scared he was.
It must be her heart. It had to be. It couldn’t be anything else.
Shit, Lori, don’t you fucking dare die on me.
He should have researched heart transplants, studied the signs, the care required for someone in Lori’s position. Why the fuck hadn’t he done that? What kind of boyfriend was he that he’d glibly treat Lori the same as every other person on the planet? She wasn’t every goddamn person on the planet. She was special, a one-of-a-kind that he’d let down when she needed him to step the fuck up.
“I got you, baby.” Zane lifted her out of the cab, cradling her in his arms. He hurried inside and marched straight to the front of the enormous line of people waiting for attention. “I need a doctor. Right now.”
“Sir, you’ll have to—”
“No! You listen to me. She’s a heart transplant patient, and she needs fucking help. Get me a doctor. Now.”
“Okay, sir. Calm down.”
The worst thing someone could say to a person in the throes of panic was “calm down.” Fury flared in his stomach, and the sound of pumping blood pounded in his ears. Lori muttered, but he couldn’t make out what she said. Jesus, she was so white, so sweaty, breathing in little sips of air.
“Move! Get someone here, now!”
