One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) Read Online Free PDF Page A

a well-ripened plum. Then, when he hit the floor, he was paler than a hockey mask.’
    Oliver swallowed away a sick feeling burning his stomach. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this.
    ‘His second heart attack was different. Sweating, confusion … he said it was like having a wrecking ball on his chest.’
    ‘Was there a third?’
    Clara nodded. ‘Oh yes, the third one killed him.’
    He’d heard all he needed to. There was no escape from this death sentence and now he just wanted out of here. He began ripping the monitors off his chest and flailing up to a sitting position. ‘Don’t tell me any more.’
    ‘Oliver, put those back on.’
    ‘I can’t be here.’
    He was just pulling the very last round sucker from his chest when the door opened and a dark-haired woman wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard entered the room. She was beautiful. Asian colouring, cat-like eyes, full lips. Oliver toyed with the sticker in his hand like a kid being caught with his hand in the candy jar.
    ‘Mr Drummond, sorry I was called away.’ She looked at his fingers holding the sensor that was supposed to be flat on his chest. ‘I see you got impatient.’ The corners of her mouth lifted in a wry smile.
    He watched her walk confidently to the machine. She pressed some buttons and began making notes on her chart.
    ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I told him to keep still but he isn’t the best at following instructions,’ Clara spoke up.
    The doctor finished writing before looking up, smiling at Clara and clicking off her pen. ‘I have a lot of patients like that.’ She looked to Oliver. ‘Nearly all of them male.’
    He swallowed. This was a woman in control. It was intoxicating and, for a second, he felt completely disarmed. He needed to find his rhythm here. He gripped the buttons of his shirt and began to fasten them together. He was still here, alive. His heart hadn’t beaten him in this round and he wasn’t going to be throwing in the towel that easily. It was just like NFL. He’d never stopped giving his all for that. He needed to remember that feeling.
    He set his hazel eyes on her. ‘So, what’s the verdict, Doctor? Am I going to be well enough to take you out to dinner tonight?’
    And there he was. Back in the game. There was amusement in her expression as a smile reached her lips, a glint of acknowledgement in her eyes.
    ‘For God’s sake, Oliver.’ Clara exhaled a breath of annoyance.
    The doctor’s eyes looked him up and down, from his leather shoes, up through his designer trousers, to the tailored shirt he was just finishing doing up. ‘You had a panic attack.’
    Her words crushed his libido like a snowplough clearing the streets. He was shaking his head without even knowing it. A panic attack? Panic. Weak. Desperate. Small penis .
    But just what was he thinking here? This was a good thing. It wasn’t a heart attack. This was great . He blew out a breath.
    ‘Your symptoms are a classic case of hyperventilation,’ the doctor continued.
    ‘No,’ Oliver shook his head. It may not be a heart attack but he was damn sure it wasn’t panic either. Panic wasn’t in the Drummond nature. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ He looked to Clara. ‘I wasn’t gasping for breath like some sort of asthmatic and I wasn’t panicked.’
    ‘Mr Drummond, it isn’t like most people think. Hyperventilation is a complex reaction the body makes when it needs to try to get you to slow everything down.’
    He shook his head again. This did not compute. Whatever had happened was everything to do with his family history and nothing to do with being a lightweight.
    ‘I don’t do slowing down, Doctor …’ He scrutinised the identity badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck. ‘Doctor Khan. I run a global business.’
    ‘Oliver,’ Clara had her calming voice on now. It was the tone she used when she thought he’d gone too far in a meeting, when he’d made one heated comment too many. Well, he hadn’t in this