CHAPTER ONE

Her head reeled from the screams of the siren. She fought to open her eyes, but her eyelids seemed like they were welded together.

The sound of the siren changed as they rounded the corner to Central Hospital, then the motor died--and she wondered if she had, too.

Monday Knight was on cloud nine less than half an hour ago. Her shiny red Ferrari convertible was as glitzy as she was. Her one attribute--the only one, as far as she was concerned--was her beauty. It was because of her good looks that she was one of the top models in the world. Now, because of her beauty, she had landed a role in Tom Cruise’s new movie. Granted, it wasn’t the lead, but it was considerably more than a bit part. She had moved from New York to Los Angeles for her big break, and she had it in four days.

Life isn’t fair! she wanted to yell at the world. But, her voice was as silent as her eyes were blind. She reached up with her hand and felt the moisture on her face. She didn’t have to see it; she knew it was blood. She always passed out at the sight of blood. At least she didn’t have to worry about that. She couldn’t see anything, and as far as she could tell she had already passed out.

"Doctor Stephen White! Doctor Stephen White! Report to ER stat!"

She felt her limp body being lifted from the ambulance onto the gurney and through the hospital doors and heard them slam shut behind her. You are supposed to be quiet in a hospital, she said silently. Why couldn’t she get the sound out to go with the words that formed in her head? Was she going to live? If she did, was it worth the effort? She felt her face again. If it was ruined, so was she.

"What have you got?" the deep male voice asked.

"It looks pretty bad, Doc White," someone said. "I figured you would want to take a look at it to see if you can fix it."

"I can fix anything," Dr. White said.

What an arrogant fool! Monday thought. Just wait until she could give him a piece of her mind! She would set him straight. Some things just can’t be fixed. At least not right.

A needle plunged deep into the veins on her arm. Then she was gone. She could not hear them as they worked feverishly to bring her back to life.

Police officer Clancy, who had been on the scene, showed up.

"Any idea who she is?" Sally Cane, the admitting nurse, asked him.

"Nope," he said. "Didn’t even have any ID on her. Can’t imagine a broad like her running around without a purse. Her shoes looked like they should have had a matching bag."

Sally laughed. "You’ve sure come a long way since you got married," she teased him.

"Yeah, I’ve got a whole new education," he said, patting the nurse on the behind as she walked away.

"Some old habits die hard," she smirked as she turned back and winked at him.

Monday could hear them talking again. "She’s coming around!" someone shouted excitedly. She struggled, and finally she could make out fuzzy forms mingling over her. She tried to speak, but still nothing came out. Her throat felt sore. She reached up and realized that there was a tube sticking into her mouth. No wonder she couldn’t say anything! Some people will go to any extreme to try to keep a woman quiet!

"She must be pretty well-fixed," a woman said.

"How do you figure?" a man asked.

"Simple, dopey. Look at her shoes. And her blouse was from Theodore’s down on Rodeo Drive. I hear they don’t even give credit. You know the kind of place; if you have to ask how much it is you can’t afford it."

Monday groaned. They all rushed to her. She tried to bring them into focus, like the photographers who snapped their cameras at her for hours at a time. It wouldn’t work. First they were fuzzy, then they started flying around the room.

"We’re losing her again," someone said. They sounded like they were a million miles away. "Come on, Jane, hang in there!" that deep male voice ordered.

I don’t have to take orders from you, her mind said. He had no control over her. Suddenly she knew that he controlled everything about her. Her life was in his hands.

She tried once more to see him. His voice was incredibly sexy. Did his looks match it? What kind of a life did he have? Was he married? Did he devote every waking minute to saving lives, like some noble hero?

They all gasped when she laughed.

"She’s going to be okay," the doctor said. "Anybody who can laugh in the face of such an accident as she just went through, they will be just fine."

If only you knew that I was laughing at you, Monday thought. Or what I am thinking about you. Hey, we haven’t even been properly introduced, and already I am fantasizing about us. And I can’t even see you straight.

"Think you can fix her up as good as new?" someone asked.

"Sure," Dr. White said. "It would help a whole lot if we had a picture of her, though." He framed her face in his hands, turning them this way and that way. "Roman nose," he said, chuckling. "Deep set eyes. Very high cheekbones. Protruding chin."

"Sounds like you’re describing Frankenstein," someone joked. "I’ll bet she used to be pretty."

Dr. White shrugged his shoulders. "Who’s to say? Not likely she’s going to tell us for a good long while."

"How soon do you think you can start working your magic?" one of the young nurses, obviously awe-struck by the doctor, asked.

Monday thought she was going to barf. She was so sickeningly sweet. Syrupy! Ych! She hated people who mooned over somebody.

"We’ll have to fix up the major part of the injuries before we can start the plastic surgery," Dr. White said.

Monday gasped. How bad was she? Maybe she had been right; maybe she was going to die. No, she couldn’t do that. She had an appointment with Tom Cruise. Life would just have to wait for her to catch up to it.

"Jane," Dr. White said, taking hold of her hand, "if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Monday tried to apply pressure. His hand felt so warm. She wanted to let him know she was still there. Buried far inside her body, her soul was crying out for release.

"It’s no use," a voice off in the distance said. "There won’t be much change tonight. We might as well all go on about our work. The regular shift nurse can stay here."

"I’ll stick around if somebody brings me a TV," the doctor said.

Monday heard a general exit. "Goodbye, Jane Doe," someone said as they left. "See you in the morning."

Good God! Monday thought. They don’t know who I am! They think I’m a Jane Doe! What happened to her purse? She tried to remember what had happened. Her mind flashed back over the accident. She heard the scream that came from herself, but seemed to be from someone else. She felt the crash. She saw a young man run towards the car, reach in and grab her purse.

No wonder they didn’t know who she was. Her driver’s license and all her credit cards were gone.

How can I tell them to stop that thief? He could charge a million dollars to her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She relived the crunch of the jaws of life as they peeled back the shiny red metal of her car, opening it like a can of sardines. She felt the horrible pressure as they pried her face out of the steering wheel.

"You sure about this, Doc?" someone asked.

"No problem," Dr. White said. "After all, it’s Monday night. I don’t have anything else to do."

"Oh, yeah, right," the other person said. "I’ll send it right in."

The door squeaked as it closed. Thank God! Monday thought. Finally somebody recognizes me. Of course I’m Monday Knight. Everybody knows Monday Knight.

The next thing she heard was Frank Gifford’s voice on the TV. "Hello, all you football fans. Welcome to the game. It is Monday night."

Monday groaned. She had never played second fiddle to a football game. Not even on a Monday night.