Desire (#3) by Carrie Cox Page A

at my side, guiding me out of the room. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re not supposed to be in here.”
    I couldn’t speak, not even to ask if she thought Benjamin would be all right. I didn’t realise I was crying until she handed me a tissue. She led me into a waiting area and up to a reception desk.
    “If would be a great help if you could fill out a couple of forms for Benjamin,” she said, her voice gentle. “We need certain details – doctor’s name, allergies – things like that.”
    I blinked at her. I didn’t know any of that stuff.
    Before I had a chance to reply she patted the back of my hand and bustled off.
    The receptionist, a young girl with bright-red lipstick, pushed a couple of sheets of paper and a black pen towards me then continued her conversation with an elderly man.
    The waiting area was busy, but I managed to find a chair in the corner of the room, where I set about trying to fill in the form.
    I ran into problems almost immediately.
    I knew his first name and family name, but I didn’t know if he had a middle name. I moved on to the next section. Oh hell, I didn’t even know his date of birth. This was ridiculous. I’d only known Benjamin a matter of days, and I didn’t know any of these details, but that didn’t stop me feeling as if my world might implode if…
    I blinked back tears. I had never believed in love at first sight, lust maybe. I definitely felt lust at first sight with Benjamin. But now I knew I loved him. I couldn’t explain it, and it wasn’t rational, but I only knew how I felt.
    I held onto the forms as the minutes ticked past, thinking of all the things I would do differently if Benjamin recovered. I would be honest with him for a start, explain how I felt and hope he didn’t come over all commitment-phobic.
    Forty-five minutes after Benjamin had been admitted, I took the forms back to receptionist. “I’m sorry I couldn’t answer all the questions.”
    She took the forms, glanced at them quickly and then added them to the pile by her computer.
    “I need to contact a member of his family,” I said. “But I don’t have my cell phone with me. Could I use your telephone?”
    The receptionist narrowed her eyes. “Is it a local call?”
    “London … Claridge’s hotel …”
    She sighed and pushed the handset towards me. “Go on then.”
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t actually have the number. Could you look it up for me?” I asked, looking at her computer.
    The receptionist looked at me as if I’d just asked for a porcupine-flavoured milkshake, but eventually she shrugged and typed a few words into the search engine on her PC. Then she punched the number into the phone and handed it to me.
    I clamped the phone to my ear, and when someone answered, I asked to be put through to Colin Easton’s room urgently. But the phone rang and rang. The hotel receptionist came back on the line. “I’m sorry. Mr. Easton appears to be out at present. Could you try again later?”
    Dammit. Why wasn’t he at the hotel? I didn’t have Colin’s cell phone number. I stored it in my phone’s address book, but my phone was back at the Vastors’ house. I hung up and pushed the handset back towards its original spot on the counter.
    “Could you tell me how Benjamin Easton is? Could I talk to his doctor?” I asked the receptionist.
    She looked up from her typing, pursed her bright red lips and peered down her glasses at me. “What relation are you to Mr. Easton?”
    “I’m his … I’m …”
    “She’s his girlfriend,” a voice from behind me said. I whirled around to see Colin standing behind me with worry lines etched on his face.
    “Oh, thank God.” I flung my arms around his neck. “I tried to contact you. Something’s happened to Benjamin. He looks badly hurt … but I haven’t spoken to a doctor yet.”
    Colin kept one arm around my shoulder and turned to speak to the receptionist. “As his next of kin, I would be grateful if I could speak to a doctor as