Free Match Play by Merline Lovelace Page B

noble sacrifice crap. You explained everything in precise detail. You’d just entered the most intensive phase of pilot training. You were in class or flying all day, studying every night. You didn’t have the time or the inclination for a long-distance love affair. Not that there was much love involved in our affair,” she added. “Lust, maybe, but not love.”
    â€œLust, definitely.” Stung but obviously trying to hang on to his temper, he grinned. “That hasn’t changed, has it? Or did I misread the signals when we locked lips a while ago?”
    Dayna shoved off the sofa, so incensed by the grin that her heart pounded like a jackhammer and black spots danced in front of her eyes.
    â€œDamn straight you misread the signals! Do you think I enjoy performing with you in front of the cameras like a trained seal?”
    â€œMatter of fact, I do.” Jaw locked, he rose, as well. “You didn’t exactly push me away this afternoon, Pud.”
    â€œDo…not…call…me…that!”
    Anger held her in such a tight vise she couldn’t seem to breathe. This was insane! Where had all this roiling emotion come from? She’d put Luke Harper out of her life years ago. Out of her head. This crazy situation had thrown them together again, sure, but…but…
    But what?
    She fisted a hand, shoved it against her breastbone. Why couldn’t she think? Why couldn’t she breathe?
    â€œDayna?”
    She staggered toward him. One step. That’s all she took, all she could manage. Luke leaped forward and caught her as she started to crumple.
    â€œDayna, what’s wrong!”
    She sagged against him, unable to speak, unable to breathe. Her heart felt as though it was about to explode. Panting, she fought for air.
    â€œI…I…”
    She clutched her chest, felt the room spin. Her vision blurred, darkening around the edges, until all she could see was Luke’s face.
    â€œHang on, sweetheart. Hang on.” Mouth tight, eyes grim, he eased her to the carpeted floor. “I’m calling a doctor.”
    She dug her nails into his forearms.
    â€œAnd…Hawk.”

Chapter 7
    W ith Dayna curled in a tight fetal position on the floor, Luke lunged across the room. He snatched up the phone and stabbed 0 for the hotel operator. In the two-second lifetime it took for the operator to come on, he ransacked his memory bank for the emergency medical procedures drilled into him during his USAF Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape training.
    SERE had focused on basic, rough-and-ready medicine to treat injuries suffered by downed aircrews after bailing out or crashing behind enemy lines. Luke had learned to counter shock, improvise splints and shoot lifesaving medications directly into veins and arteries.
    He’d also learned to recognize the signs of apparent heart attack. His own chest cramping at the sight of Dayna’s white, pasty face contorted in pain, Luke dragged the phone across the room with him.
    â€œWe need an ambulance!” he bit out when the operator came on. “Room 224.”
    He was on his knees, rolling Dayna onto her back, before the startled operator stammered a response.
    â€œYes, s-sir! Room 224.”
    â€œSend up an AED if there’s one in the hotel.”
    â€œSend what?”
    What did the friggin’ initials stand for? Luke had no clue.
    â€œOne of those portable defibrillators.”
    â€œYes, sir. Please, stay on the line while I…”
    The receiver hit the floor. He’d keep the line open, but he knew every second counted. He had to assess Dayna’s condition and fast.
    She was conscious, thank God! And breathing, but every erratic rise and fall of her chest brought a grunt of pain.
    Clamping an iron lid over the fear that ripped through him at those agonized breaths, Luke pressed two fingers to the side of her neck. Her pulse beat against his hand with the ferocity of a jungle drum.