Her first stop was to look in on Madelyne’s young patient. Heather was doing well, which pleased Kelley immensely.
In a while, she visited the floor where her embarrassment had occurred last week when she was replaced on another case by Madelyne. No matter what, she reminded herself, one success did not mean that her reputation was restored.
Or that it should be.
But she didn’t really buy that. As she’d reminded herself often lately, she was a good doctor.
It didn’t hurt that Dotty Bailey hurried up to her when she reached the nurses’ station. A plump, smiling woman was with her. “This is Heather’s mom,” Dotty said. “She wanted to thank you in person for helping Heather.”
The staff at the nurses’ station listened with obvious interest as Dotty effused over Kelley’s treatment of Heather, and the girl’s mother thanked her over and over. “I’ve already sent a letter of thanks to the hospital for your good work,” said Mrs. Harrell. “Right to the top, the administrator—Mr. Paxler.”
Wonderful, Kelley thought. She wanted to laugh aloud when Randall and Cheryl joined the group. They both added their commendations, though their smiles were puckered as if their words hurt.
When she glanced down the hall before entering her first patient’s room, she noticed Shawn Jameson leaning on a wall, arms folded, watching her. A trickle of alarm passed through her. Jenny wasn’t with him. And he didn’t approach her. Was he following her? Why?
She entered the room, but made a mental note to ask the man that evening.
For a childcare intern, he was underfoot a lot. Without kids. Didn’t he have enough work to do? She could think up more things he could do for the children’s benefit if Marge had trouble assigning him responsibilities.
Later, when she returned to her office, she found paperwork sent by Louis Paxler regarding Etta Borand’s claim on behalf of her husband. Feeling better than she had in a long time, Kelley called the administrator, prepared to tell him to instruct the Borands to go pound sand, but she deflated when she only got Louis’s voice mail.
Still, Kelley breezed through the rest of the day seeing patients. A call from the mother of Jenny’s best friend, Claire, put a damper on her good mood, for Janice Fritz invited Jenny to come over and spend the night. It would be the third night in a row that Jenny would not be with her. But it would be good for Jenny, and Kelley wouldn’t even need to go home for anything, since Randall would have brought back Jenny’s overnight bag. She agreed, hiding her sigh. It was her problem if she was lonely that night, not her daughter’s.
She headed to KidClub early to make sure Jenny liked the idea and to spend time with her.
“Yes, Mommy!” Jenny, obviously thrilled, clapped her hands, which made Kelley happy she’d agreed.
While there, Kelley looked around for Shawn, determined to ask what he’d been doing earlier when she’d seen him in the hall. He came in a short while after her arrival. “Hi,” he said in an offhand manner.
“Hi, Shawn,” she returned. “Have a minute? I wanted to ask why you—”
“Just a sec.” He bent lithely as if suddenly fully engrossed in tying a child’s shoe.
Where had he been? She had the odd notion that he’d been wherever she had been. And that he was avoiding her questions.
“I saw you in the hallway in 2L,” she said, referring to the patient wing where she had noticed him. “What were you—”
“Claire’s mommy is here.” Jenny tugged on Kelley’s arm to get her attention.
Kelley glanced at Shawn, who appeared relieved at the interruption. For the next few minutes, she exchanged pleasantries with Janice Fritz. Kelley made sure that Jenny had her things in her overnight bag. Then, ignoring the moisture in her eyes, she watched them leave.
She met Shawn’s gaze after they were gone. His eyebrows were raised, as if he were amused by her bittersweet reaction at seeing her child’s departure.
“I didn’t get a chance to finish asking you, Shawn,” she began again. “I saw you in 2L, and later in the office building, and—”
“Seems as if I’m following you, doesn’t it?” He made light of it, damn him. “Why would I do that?”
She flushed. “That’s exactly my question.”
“I’ll keep you guessing. Care to help me clean up? It’s nearly time to close KidClub for the day.” He turned and confidently strode away in his cowboy boots.
He’d thought she was flirting with him!
If she’d had a pair of boots on herself, she might have gone after him and kicked him right where it would hurt most.
Needing to cool off, she walked briskly back to her office and spent the next few hours working with the door closed. She had brought back the files on the Silver Rapids epidemic in her medical bag that morning. She had taken them home over the weekend, but hadn’t had time to study them.
Her review now didn’t ease her temper. It simply stoked it further.
She digested the notes and the negative results of tests on blood and other bodily fluids, while letting her mind mull over what it all might mean.
She found nothing to show that she had done anything wrong. Yet the more she studied the files, the more the entire outbreak seemed wrong. How could nothing have shown up in the IFA tests?
There had been plenty of questions at the time of the outbreak, of course. But the initial furor had subsided along with the end of the epidemic. The two dead patients had been mourned and eulogized, and that had been the end of it. Maybe.
If only she knew where Wilson Carpenter was.
If only the idea he’d slipped into her mind hadn’t ignited her already smoldering suspicions.
If only she had someone else to discuss those suspicions with.
If only…
She slammed the files back into the drawer and locked it. Was she right in keeping them there? Or should she keep them hidden at home even when she wasn’t planning to study them?
She hung her lab coat behind her office door and put on the khaki suit jacket that matched her slacks. When she finally left her office, she regretted the loss of her earlier good mood. She regained it partially when she took a peek into Heather’s room on the way out.
“She’s doing great!” said the duty nurse, smiling at Kelley. “Thanks to you.”
Kelley hummed as she headed for her assigned space in the parking garage.
Until the squeal of tires shrieked in her ear like the cry of a wild animal.
She looked up to see the huge, boxy form of an ambulance barreling right toward her.
Chapter Seven
Stepping from the garage stairwell, Shawn heard the vehicle’s rumble before he saw it. He heard the shrill of skidding tires and began running, just as the sound was joined by a woman’s scream. Kelley!
There. A few yards in front of him. He dove between two parked SUVs and, with a flying tackle, shoved her out of the way of the speeding vehicle just in time.
No opportunity for niceties. Though he managed to thrust his hand beneath her head so it wouldn’t hit the unyielding floor, he landed on top of her.
He heard the breath rush from her, felt the jar to his hand as it cushioned her face.
He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily. Inhaling the usual parking garage fumes tempered by the sweet, clean scent of the woman beneath him. He might be crushing her, but her soft curves cushioned him.
He had an urge to stay right there but he couldn’t. He hastily turned Kelley so that her face would not touch the floor, then rose and ran after the ambulance.
Too late. He saw its flat rear doors as it disappeared down a ramp. Noted the name “Gilpin Emergency” in big blue letters, and the ambulance’s license number. For all the good that would do. He’d missed seeing who was at the wheel. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He didn’t know if the driver was a man or a woman. And he’d no doubt find, when he checked it out, that the ambulance was stolen.
He returned to where Kelley sat on the floor, knees bent
, head in her hands. “Did I hurt you?” he demanded.
Her eyes were huge and dazed as they met his. “I… No,” she finally said. “I’m all right. I think. But… Thank you.”
He grinned wryly. “For tackling you? Any time.”
“For following me—this time—and keeping me from being hit. Why would he speed like that in a parking garage?”
“He? Did you see the driver?” Shawn knelt and grasped her shoulders.
She blinked as she shook her head slowly. He wasn’t sure if she was responding in the negative or still trying to shake off her befuddlement.
“Did you?” he repeated.
“No,” she said. “But he had to have seen us. Why didn’t he stop to make sure we were all right?”
“Yeah, why?” Shawn repeated, but he knew the answer. “Look, do you need to go back inside, get checked out in the emergency room or anything?”
She hesitated, and her eyes searched her body as if determining if everything was intact. Shawn followed her gaze, feeling a warmth ignite that was separate from the heat of his anger. She looked damn good to him.
“I’m fine,” she finally said.
He silently seconded that, despite the dirt on the knees of her light slacks. “Good. Then you’re going to get into my car with me, and we’ll get out of here.”
The muzziness in her gaze cleared at that. “No, I’m fine, really. I can drive. I need to get home.”
“I know Jenny’s not there and she’s okay. And you don’t need to get home. Not now.”
“But—”
“Don’t you get it? Some son of a bitch just tried to run you over, Dr. Stanton. Intentionally. And since he—or she—didn’t succeed, he just might try again.”
WATCHING FOR COPS, the arsonist sped away in the stolen ambulance.
Taking action like this, in anger, was a mistake. It wasn’t on the agenda.
But neither was the improvement of Dr. Kelley Stanton’s status at the hospital. She had saved a girl’s life, and everyone was talking about what a great doctor she was.
Praise for Kelley Stanton could wreck the entire plan. And nothing could be permitted to stand in the way.
If Kelley couldn’t be stopped one way, she would need to be silenced forever. But not yet.
Her reputation was still precarious. It could still be ruined.
The arsonist was smart. Even when acting on an angry impulse like this, there were no mistakes. No fingerprints or other evidence would be found when the ambulance was abandoned.
And if the arsonist’s intention had actually been to strike Kelley rather than scare her, warn her…well, she would no longer be around to toy with.
But she was still necessary. Someone was needed to take the blame, and it was her.
Just wait, Dr. Kelley Stanton, thought the arsonist. I’m not through with you yet.
KELLEY CLOSED her eyes as she sat in the passenger seat of Shawn’s big, blue SUV. She didn’t want to think about what had just happened.
But that was all she could think about. That and the aftermath, with Shawn literally flying to her rescue, then flattening her to the pavement. Shielding her, even as he gently cupped her head to protect her.
She shuddered, and not entirely from revulsion at nearly having been run over. Surely it was just her relief that made her relive, over and over, the heat that had circulated through her, especially down below, as she had imagined she had felt the throb of Shawn’s body….
She opened her eyes and shook her head at her own folly.
“You’re shivering,” he said from the driver’s seat. He reached over and took her hand, holding it on the console between them. His was warm and large and felt much too comforting. And sexy. She imagined him taking his very masculine, long fingers, touching her places other than the back of her hand…
Frustrated divorcée, she taunted herself. Her near-death experience must have stimulated hormones long dormant—until she’d met Shawn. She wasn’t about to act on them anyway.
She glanced at him. His wide forehead was creased in a frown of concern. It was his job to be concerned, she reminded herself—about children, not imaginative adult women.
“We’re nearly at my place,” he continued. They hadn’t been in the car very long.
“Look.” She pulled her hand back, though the gesture made her feel as bereft as if she were suddenly the only person in Denver. Being alone with him at his place was definitely not a good idea—not with the direction her thoughts were going. “What happened was an accident. No one has any reason to intentionally run over me. Please, just take me home. I’ll lock the doors just in case and take a taxi to work in the morning. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. But it sounded like, “Yeah, I do.”
“Pardon?”
He didn’t respond. At first she thought it was because he had to concentrate on waiting for an iron gate to open into an indoor parking garage. He pulled into a space in the crowded garage, then turned off the engine as the gate closed behind them. And didn’t look at her.
More was on his mind than what he’d told her. There was always more on his mind than he revealed, she was sure of it. “Do you know who was in that ambulance?” she asked a little too casually.
“No,” he replied, not meeting her eye. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you? No broken bones, or—”
“What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded.
He shut up, and his sudden silence chilled her. At the same time, it made her curiosity run rampant.
“What’s going on, Shawn?” she tried again.
He finally turned toward her with a blank expression that doused any residue of her earlier lust. What was he thinking, damn it? “This may be a mistake,” he said at last. “But we’d better talk.”
“About what?”
“The truth. About you. And—” He held up one large hand to keep her from interrupting as he finished. “About me.”
She swallowed hard, knowing she’d been right to be suspicious. Knowing she wouldn’t like what he said.
“Good,” she said anyway, trying to sound as detached as he did. “Tell me.”
“As soon as we get inside.”
SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN surprised at the compactness of his apartment, or even at its sparse furnishings or shabbiness. He did, after all, claim to be a student, and students seldom had money for luxuries. His job as a childcare intern at KidClub probably didn’t pay much.
Assuming he was just a childcare intern. Which she believed now as much as she’d have believed he was one of the animal caricatures he sketched.
The place didn’t feel like him. Wasn’t the sort of home she envisioned him in.
With his muscular build, his vests, jeans and cowboy boots, she visualized him in wide, open spaces. Even at that, she suspected she hadn’t any idea of who the real Shawn Jameson was.
Or why he had really brought her here.
He gestured toward the worn green sofa, and she obediently sat down as he turned on the stuffy room’s window air conditioner.
“Sorry I don’t have much to offer to eat or drink.” Like champagne and caviar? No, that didn’t fit him. Steak fresh from a ranch, and a keg of beer? Maybe, but…
Barbecue. Yes, that fit, though she wasn’t sure why. Spicy. Hot. With a well-aged bottle of Merlot, each sip slipping smoothly, sensuously, over her tongue, down her throat…
“That’s okay,” she said hoarsely. You’re here for answers, damn it, she reminded herself. Not sex games. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” he said. “Decaf. We’re probably both too hyped up for caffeine. I’ve got some good unleaded beans already ground. Okay?”
“Sure.” She didn’t think that real men admitted to drinking decaf, let alone to grinding beans. But there was no doubt that Shawn Jameson was a real man.
She waited alone in his compact living room, allowing herself to relax while listening to the com
forting sounds of his puttering in the kitchen. In a short while, he was back.
“It’s brewing. We can talk while we wait.”
“About time,” she retorted.
Sitting at the far end of the couch, he ran one hand through his dusty-blond hair.
He turned toward her, his firm jaw set. Had she once thought his blue eyes icy? Now they seemed to radiate an intensity that was disturbing. “Kelley, enough beating around the bush. I need answers from you. Now.”
Taken aback, she said, “What about the answers I need?”
“Later. Soon as you’re done.”
“Tell me the questions, then.” She tried to speak glibly, but to her surprise the words came out in a nervous croak. Why did he make her nervous? He’d promised her an explanation.
“Okay, here’s a big one,” he said. “Did you set the fire in the records room at the hospital?”
She glared, but his stare was unnerving. And unequivocal.
“No,” she asserted, “I did not. Now, your turn. Why are you asking? Why would you care?”
“That’s two questions. Hold on to them till you’ve responded to a few more of mine.”
“Maybe,” she said. Her hands were clasped uneasily in her lap, fingers twining as if she sought comfort from her own touch. For something more productive to do, she brushed futilely at the dirty scuffmarks on the knees of her slacks.
He watched her. She stared back defiantly as their gazes met once more. “Go ahead and ask,” she finally said.
“Tell me about the Silver Rapids flu epidemic.”
Her laugh came out as an incredulous snort. “In twenty-five words or less?”
“Right.” This time, one side of his otherwise impassive mouth twitched, as if he waged war against a grin.
“You promise, if I tell you, that you’ll explain why a childcare attendant wants to know about such things?” Not that she’d tell him everything. But with all his sneaking around, the other questions he’d asked, she had suspected for awhile that Shawn Jameson wasn’t what he professed to be. Now she was sure—and she also thought she knew why. But she wanted confirmation.
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