Free Every Breath You Take by Judith McNaught

joyously. “Stay quiet,” she warned quickly, pressing him down with both hands when he made a feeble effort to roll onto his stomach. “Help is on the way,” she promised him. Without looking up, she asked Mitchell, “What sort of help is coming?”
    Her question was almost drowned out by a vehicle roaring up the driveway and screeching to a halt in front of the hotel.
    “That sort of help,” Mitchell replied, standing up.
    Kate leaned forward and looked around his legs; then she looked up at him in laughing disbelief and unabashed admiration. “You called an
ambulance?”
    She would have said more, but Mitchell was already striding off toward the ambulance and the dazed dog was getting agitated, thrashing around in a feeble effort to roll to his feet. Soothing Max with her voice and hands, she watched two men jump out of the ambulance while a dark green car came racing up the driveway and lurched to a stop behind them. The car was still rocking when the driver flung open his door and got out, carrying a large black bag.
    He was a physician, Kate knew at once, but her delight was doused by her fear that the doctor and ambulance drivers would all get back in their vehicles and leave as soon as Mitchell told them who their patient really was. Tensely, she watched Mitchell gesture toward the dog she was holding down.
    Kate held her breath.
    The doctor turned and started walking toward her. The ambulance drivers rushed to the back of their van and pulled out a stretcher.
    Amazement and optimism soared through Kate, and she whispered to the dog, “I think we’re in very good hands, Max.” She was positive of it when the physiciancrouched down beside her, looked at the nervous, wary dog and opened his black bag. “Our local vet is on vacation, but I phoned a veterinarian friend of mine in St. Maarten before I left, and I brought along some things he recommended. Now then,” he said calmly, “dogs usually like me. Let’s hope this one does, too, because I don’t want to sedate him just yet. Head injuries,” he continued as he slowly reached out toward the dog, “can be—“
    A low, throaty snarl began in the dog’s throat and his lips curled back over white fangs.
    The physician yanked his hand back. “Wounded animals often attack anyone who comes too close,” he informed Kate; then he reached toward the dog again, this time cautiously, inches at a time. “But this fellow is willing to let you touch him, so he ought to let me do it. He’s actually a little afraid of me … and all that snarling is really just … a bluff.”
    “No, I don’t think it—” Kate’s warning was drowned out by the physician’s yelp of pain.

Chapter Seven
    “I THINK THE DOG IS GOING TO BE FINE,” THE PHYSICIAN told Kate and Mitchell as he looked around for his black bag.
    The ambulance drivers had left earlier, after settling the dog on the floor near the coffee table in the main room. “He’ll sleep through the night, assuming I gave him the right dosage. Tomorrow, you should take him over to St. Maarten and let a vet there have a look at him and take some X-rays of his skull and shoulder.”
    “I can’t thank you enough,” Kate said sincerely, “and I’m terribly sorry about your arm.”
    “The bite isn’t extremely deep, but it is rather painful,” he replied stiffly while collecting bandages and antiseptic from the table near the terrace doors. “And of course now there’s the question of rabies to consider.”
    Kate stifled a smile that was part anxiety and part mortification. “You did say that whoever you spoke to at the hospital just now told you there hasn’t been a case of rabies reported on the island in years?”
    “Yes. However, it’s imperative that you keep that animal with you until you leave. After that, I’ll take care of him. I wish you would let me take him with me now.”
    “I want to look after him myself while I’m here,” Kate said. She had a feeling the physician would prefer to