Flight to Paradise Ch. 03

"Will you hold my hand if I get scared?" he teases.

She laughs. She really likes this guy, and she notices he isn't wearing a wedding band. "For some reason I think you already have your big boy pants on. Turn around here so we can get this done."

He turns and allows Abby to tightly strap his leg down so it won't move during the scan. She sets the scanning rig in its mount and turns it on. A red laser beam begins to sweep back and forth over the mount, making a map of Mac's prosthetic mount that's accurate to a thousandth of a millimeter. The scan lasts less than a minute then she releases him.

"Done for today, Mac. Normally we would mill your mount today and fit you tomorrow, but we're a little backed up with the milling since the scanner was down. If we don't get your mount milled today, we'll get it milled tomorrow so we can fit you Friday. Thanks for being a good patient. I wish all my patients were as easy to work with, not to mention fun to talk to," she says, leaving out the part about also being sexy as hell. She hands him his old leg.

"Thanks," he says, taking the leg and standing it on the floor. After a couple of deep breaths to suck up the courage and to get ready for the jolt of pain, he pushes his mount into the leg, gritting his teeth as the stabbing pain hits again. "Tell me Abby, who do I ping to bitch at about how much this hurts to put on?"

She softens. "I know it hurts. We're working on it, we really are, but the body interprets the sudden influx of feeling as pain. It's the body that's confused, not the prosthetic."

"Well, whatever it is, it still hurts like hell. Why can't you bring the feeling on slowly?"

"We've tried that. Then it just hurts longer. I'm sure we'll crack it eventually, but for now, just remind yourself of the freedom that shock of pain gives you."

He sighs. "Yeah, I know. I don't mean to bitch, but damn, it hurts to put on."

She actually pats his hand. "I know. Listen, if you're available tonight, I'd love to take you around, show you the big city," she says with enthusiasm, thinking if he played his card right, she might show him her bedroom too.

He chuckles as he slips on his pants. "Show the country bumpkin around, eh?"

She smiles her brilliantly. "I hardly think you're a country bumpkin, but if you don't live here, you can't possibly know all the best places to eat. You do eat, don't you?"

"I'm flattered Abby, but I already have other plans for tonight. But I'll see you tomorrow, or the next day. Keep your lunch plans open and I'll treat."

"Deal, but if you stand me up, I'm going to beat you to death with your old leg," she says with giggle.

"I wouldn't dream of it. The last thing I want to do is upset the lady that can make me kick my own ass." Normally he'd have taken her up on her offer for a tour. He knows his way around the city pretty well, but she's right, it's the locals that know all the best places. She's not hard on the eyes either, but his tumble with Kate last night and again this morning has blunted his libido. That, and he'd like to have another run at Kate before he goes home.

She laughs in delight. "I like a man who knows the score. The office will call you later to set up an appointment for your test fitting. I'll make sure it's in the morning." She zones out for a moment. "I have to run Mac. I'm already late for my next appointment." She sticks out her hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you again, and I'll see you tomorrow or Friday."

He shakes her hand. "Looking forward to lunch."

She grins broadly once more before gathering her things and hurrying out the door, pushing the cart ahead of her.

Mac walks out of the clinic and settles into the Mercedes. It's a nearly one and he's hungry, having missed breakfast, so he stops at a drive-through for a takeaway salad before returning to his suite. The clothes he asked to be cleaned are gone and a beautiful bouquet of roses has been delivered in their place, stylishly arranged in a crystal vase. What he knows about flowers he can sum up in one sentence—they grow in the dirt and women like roses—but he admires their color and scent all the same.

While he eats, he tries to ping Kate but gets her auto-attendant. Since she's not taking pings at the moment, he leaves a message that he'll pick her up at six for dinner, if she wants to go, to dress nice, and asks her to ping him back to confirm. He hopes she's sleeping, husbanding her strength for the toils to come tonight.

He then pings BLT Steak and makes a reservation for seven o'clock that evening, knowing he can always cancel if she doesn't want to go. Finishing his salad, he dumps the container in the recycler and flops on the bed, not bothering to remove his clothes. Muting his pings and setting an alarm he lies still, closing his eyes with a sigh, and is asleep in minutes.

A little over three hours later, Mac's chip wakes him to the sounds of chirping birds, his preferred wakeup signal. Groggy from his unaccustomed nap, he struggles up out of sleep, stretching, yawning, and shaking off cobwebs. He'd received two messages while he slept. The first is the hotel telling him his clothes will be ready for pickup after five, or they can be delivered to his suite, which he immediately deletes before pinging the front desk to have the clothes sent up when they're ready.

The second ping is from Kate, received a bit over an hour before, stating that she'd love to accompany him to dinner and that she'll be ready at six sharp. He wonders at the hold Kate seems to still have over him. She didn't say anything even remotely risqué, yet her rich contralto voice in the message makes him think of all the things he hopes they're going to do after dinner. Chuckling to himself he rolls out of the bed and wanders into the bath where he relieves himself, then decides to shower again, both to help throw off the remainder of sleep and to make sure he's presentable. There was no way he can compete with Kate, but he didn't want to look like the frog to a princess.

After his shower, Mac swishes his mouth clean with the sanitizer before pulling out the only suit he packed, a medium grey coat and pants paired with a very light blue shirt and a tie that's trying to decide if it is a very deep blue or purple. A bit after five, Mac calls for his car and leaves the hotel to pick up Kate, sending her a text ping that he's on his way as he trots lightly down the steps.