Picking at the scrambled eggs and hockey puck pancakes that had been presented for breakfast, she kept thinking back to those minutes of lying on the red carpet. Had she really made a Chippendale’s crack while he’d been saving her? How embarrassing.
A different nurse came in to take her vitals for the eight-thousandth time. The hospital staff had been extremely nice, but she’d definitely felt like the newest dog-and-pony show as the nurses took turns checking on her. Which it seemed happened every five minutes. How did anyone think being in the hospital translated into resting?
“I really loved your race car movie,” the man said, writing notes on her chart. His nametag read Roghene, and his eyes crinkled in a way that reminded her of Jackie Chan. “Sorry you didn’t win the Oscar.”
Her first film role had garnered her an Oscar nod. Shooting the biopic of Trace Bradshaw’s life had changed her life. She’d hoped the movie would give her a foothold in making the leap from television to film, but she’d never dreamed it would put her on the A-list. She hadn’t really expected to win, so when Meryl Streep had won yet another Oscar two months ago, she’d clapped with everyone else.
But this incident couldn’t compare with the Oscars. She’d won in the end.
She was still breathing.
“Oh, thanks,” she said taking a sip of fake orange juice. “You win some, you lose some, I guess. I’m glad you liked the movie.”
“I bought it on DVD the day it came out.” He pulled it out of the back of his scrubs. Very ingenious of him to hide it there. “Do you think you could autograph it for me?”
“Of course.” A shock of pain zinged up her bad arm and sweat broke out on her forehead. He set the DVD on the table and held it down since she only had one working hand while the other was wrapped and unusable against her body. Even in the hospital, she couldn’t get away from the recognition. Sometimes she regretted the career path she’d chosen. She loved acting but she hadn’t planned on the fame. Hadn’t planned on the rabid fans and the constant interruption in her life.
She scribbled her name and a note on the case and handed it back to Roghene.
“Thank you so much.” He beamed as he backed out of the room. “I’ll let you eat your breakfast.”
Julie waved and poked at the blueberry muffin. It turned out to be the most edible and, along with some orange juice and tea, she survived breakfast with little fanfare. She pushed away her tray as something caught her eye in the door.
A man walked slowly by her room, rolling an IV stand along with him. His arm rested in a sling and he had on a hospital gown, but he also had on black sweatpants beneath. He glanced in her room, stopped and stood at her door.
It was him. Her pulse leaped. Her palms slicked.
“Hey,” he said, taking a few steps into the room. He seemed surprised and a little hesitant. “I wondered if you were here.”
Troy. She’d never forget his name. She’d never forget him. Yes, the day had been a big blur, but she’d never forget the eyes of the man who saved her, dark brown and so very intense.
A little shiver ran down her spine. “Where else would I be?” She smiled and this time it came easily. She owed this man her life. God, she hadn’t even thanked him yet.
He shrugged, but flinched as he adjusted the sling. He’d gotten shot because of her. Nearly died trying to save her. “I don’t know,” he said. “I thought you might’ve transferred to Cedars. I wasn’t sure. Isn’t that the hospital to the stars?”
“I guess they were full.” She lifted her good arm and encompassed the room. “Here I am.” She gestured to the chair by her bed. The chair her mother had used for the first twenty—four hours of her stay. “Come sit down.” He looked a little pale. “You seem like you need to get off your feet.”
Gingerly, he sat down, stretched his long legs in front of him and got comfortable. Those broad shoulders hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. “So. How’re you feeling?”
“Probably about the same as you.”
She’d had her mother check on him, but the hospital staff had been very closemouthed about his condition, citing patient confidentiality. They’d learned very little other than—like her—he’d survived and needed a