Saturday Morning Toast

Okay, I know, I need to do a breakfast serial. And I may if I can think clearly. Which means, I may not because my head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton candy. Fluffy, and sticky and a mess. Hopefully doing some physical labor will help.

Still, rather than natter on about nothing in particular, I shall, after all, give it a shot. And speaking of shots . . .

*************************************

"OW!" I turned to glare at Jorge. "I swear you get a perverse pleasure out of that." He gave her a bland smile, but didn't deny it, simply turning to toss the used needle into one of the marked biohazard receptacles. He knew she was watching him, and she knew he knew it.

Of course, everyone watched Jorge. It was hard not to. The man was seriously genetically blessed. Literally tall, dark, and handsome, but there was so much more to it. He was smart (then again, he was a doctor), and funny, and if the rumors she'd heard from Judith in accounting were correct there were horses who'd envy . . . "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said I think this is a bad idea. The Mexican border is very unstable right now."

"It's not like I had a lot of choice. That's why they call them assignments."

"You could have refused."

"Yeah, right." I snorted. "Refused, and watched my entire career go down the toilet. No, I don't think so."

"You are a beautiful woman Hannah. It is a bad plan."

"Thank you. But I'm a big girl. I can handle it." I gave him a slight smile. I didn't feel like smiling. In fact I felt . . . odd. My head was swimming. It was hard to focus. My tongue didn't seem to want to work right. Still, I managed to force the words out clearly enough to be understood. "They need someone who can act in a telenovella, someone attractive and bilingual."

"I know." He stepped forward, shining one of those little penlights in my eyes one at a time. Normally it hurts like hell. My eyes are very light sensitive. But it didn't. And when I pulled back, he had to catch me to keep me from falling over.

"What in the hell was in that shot?" I tried to say it clearly, but it was pretty much an unintelligible mumble.

"It was a bad plan Hannah." He lowered me gently into a lying position on the exam table.

"Bastard." It was a bare mumble. My eyes were too heavy to keep open. As I faded out of consciousness I was almost sure I felt the brush of lips on my forehead.