“Your phone number.”
“What about it?” That was a stall. By definition one needed a number to dial to contact someone else on a telephone.
What she didn’t know was why he wanted hers. Surely he didn’t really want to call her. She’d admit to having the tiniest little crush on him after last night. Sleep had finally come when she’d realized that it wasn’t really something to worry about because they were on completely different rungs of the hospital social ladder. But now he knew exactly who she was and had brought up the subject again. What was up with that?
“I’m asking for your phone number,” he patiently explained.
“I don’t give out that information,” she said.
“Why?”
“Why do you want it?”
Now he rolled his eyes. “I’d like to call you sometime.”
“So you can yell at me after hours, too?”
“Of course not.” His gaze narrowed. “Has anyone ever talked to you about this acute flair you have for the dramatic? And holding a grudge?”
“Not recently.”
“Look, I’d like your number so I can ask—”
“Don’t say it.”
He moved in a completely different orbit and she existed in the real world. Under normal circumstances there wasn’t a chance in hell that their worlds would collide, but that changed last night and an alternate reality was initiated.
Now he was trying to change the order of the universe. When the last man in her life cleaned out her savings and maxed out her existing credit cards and ones he took out in her name, she learned the hard lesson that men have ulterior motives. The only unknown was how much it would cost her. She absolutely would not be a victim of whatever it was that Nathan Steele was planning.
“Why shouldn’t I say it?” There was a charming, confident look on his face.
“Because yesterday you only made me feel like an idiot. If I gave you my number now, that would make it true.”
She walked into the NICU before he could respond. There was nothing left to do except work through the bittersweet, wistful feeling inside that made her wish a man hadn’t screwed up her life. Then she might be tempted to take a chance that another man wasn’t going to do the same thing.
Nathan wasn’t sure why he cruised the cafeteria at lunch-time instead of going to the doctor’s dining room. Then he saw Cindy Elliott sitting by herself and the motivation for his detour became clear. It was an excuse to talk to her. Damage control for his unreasonable behavior, he told himself. But himself wasn’t quite buying into that story. After her over-the-top reaction to his apology for unreasonable behavior, he’d turned over the unreasonable behavior crown to her. Yet he couldn’t stop his own curiosity at her response.
He grabbed a tray and stepped into line, then picked up a ready-made turkey sandwich and a bottle of water. After paying for the items, he looked around, half-expecting her to be gone. She had a way of running out on him. This time she was still sitting alone at a table for two by the wall. Convenient.
“Here goes nothing,” he mumbled to himself.
Sunshine leaked through the windows from the hospital’s dome tower above this room, allowing the light in. The hum of voices buzzed around him. Balancing the rectangular green tray, he snaked his way through the Formica-topped tables and metal chairs with orange plastic seats.
He stopped beside her and did a replay of what he’d asked last night. “Is this seat taken?”
Her eyes narrowed on him when she looked up. “What if I said I was expecting someone?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Without waiting for permission, he set down his tray and sat in the chair opposite her. He sort of missed the “bunny suit.” Now she was wearing the work uniform of cotton pants and dark-blue scrubs top with Environmental Services embroidered on the breast. In this light, her eyes were even more interesting—darker brown with flecks of gold. Definitely cinnamon. Spicy. Interesting. Not unlike the lady herself.
“So, how’s it going?” He unwrapped the plastic on his sandwich and took a bite.
“Until now there was only one black mark on the day. In the last five seconds that just doubled.” She set her spoon down. “Why are you here?”
“I’m hungry?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. You could be having lobster, caviar and truffles in the doctor’s dining room.”
“Actually I think it’s pheasant under glass and baked Alaska day. I’m not a big fan of either,” he said.
“Again, not my point. You’re here with the peasants. Why is that?”
“Maybe I find the environment here more interesting.” He finished the first half of his sandwich and glanced at her empty bowl with wrappers piled up in it. “Soup and crackers isn’t much for lunch.”
“I’m on a diet.”
“Why?” Nathan twisted the top off his water bottle and took a drink.
“By definition diet implies trying to drop a few pounds.” Her tone was conversational, but mistrust lurked in her eyes.
“Again I ask—why?” He wagged a warning finger when she opened her mouth to answer. “Don’t give me the snarky, sarcastic response that I know is on the tip of your tongue. You’re not overweight.”
“Why else would I go on a diet?” She leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. The classic stubborn, you’re-not-getting-anything-out-of-me pose.
“All well and good for someone who needs to shape up, but you don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw you in that dress last night.”
The sexy, sensuous image would be imprinted on his mind forever. And he’d held her in his arms. She had curves in all the right places and not one of those places needed to slim down. The memory of her body pressed against his sent a flood of testosterone surging through him. And it wasn’t the first time he’d reacted to her that way.
“Why are you really eating this?” he asked.
“Why do you care?”
“Good question. Humor me.”
“Would you believe I have irritable bowel syndrome and this is a bland diet?”
“No.”
She was irritable, but that wasn’t a medical diagnosis. It had something to do with him personally. Just a feeling, but he was pretty sure this snappish attitude had a lot to do with him not recognizing her, especially after coming down on her for something she hadn’t done. And since his apology hadn’t produced any discernible softening in her, that cranked up his curiosity.
“Okay.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “What if I’m still full from last night?”
“Doubtful. You didn’t finish the rubber chicken or even touch the prefab cheesecake.” He would know. He’d noticed that, along with everything else about her. She was quick-witted, smart and sexy. A triple threat.
She sipped from the straw in her iced tea, then asked, “Are you going to let this go any time soon?”
“That’s not my current plan, no.”
She sighed. “If you must know, I’m always on a very tight budget the week before payday. Something you probably have no frame of reference for.”
“Budgets? Or payday?”
“Either. Both.”
“I get the concept, but you’re right. It’s not something I had to deal with.”
“Had?”
“I didn’t have a childhood, but not because money was a problem.”
He’d had his hands full coping with family issues. And thinking about that could put multiple black marks on his day. Cindy, however, could brighten up an entire room. He’d found that out last night. And she was much more interesting than memories of the clinically dysfunctional Steele family.
“So,” he said, rolling the empty plastic from his sandwich into a ball. “The south of France with Mumsy isn’t in the budget?”
Her mouth twitched. She wanted to laugh but was holding back. “About that—”
“No need to explain.”
“I get that. What’s your excuse for being crabby now?” he asked. “Lack of sleep? Staying out too late last night?”
“You got me. Hobnobbing with the rich and famous wore me out. I stayed up way past my bedtime.”
And speaking of beds, an image of her in his with twisted sheets tightened a knot of need inside him that had started fewer than twenty-four hours ago when he’d seen her walk like sex in motion across a crowded room. Talking with her, discovering her sharp mind and keen sense of humor had only intensified the feeling. Then she’d really piqued his curiosity by abruptly walking out after cutting short their dance.
“It seemed like you were having fun. Why did you leave the party?” he asked.
“It was time to go.” Something in her eyes said that wasn’t the whole truth. “Now I’ve got a question for you— why are you stalking me?”
“That’s harsh,” he teased. “Take last night—”
“You mean when you didn’t have a clue who I was?”
“No offense,” he said, “But last night you weren’t wearing the NICU jumpsuit.”
“It’s a legitimate question, Doctor—”
“Nathan, remember?”
The look on her face said she remembered it all and wasn’t happy that she did. “My point is that a physician rubbing elbows with the peons here at Mercy Medical Center just isn’t deliberately done. So the stalking remark is not out of line.”
“It is if I just want to get to know you. And I do. We work in the same place and it’s inevitable that our paths would cross. Which is the reason I’d like your phone number.”
“I don’t really get the connection.” She stood and picked up her tray. Over her shoulder as she was walking away, she said, “And you should just let it go, Doctor.”
Nathan knew she was right. He should let it go.
He honestly didn’t understand why he couldn’t. The average woman would be happy to go out with him. Clearly Cindy wasn’t average, which could explain part of her appeal. The other part was curiosity. She wouldn’t even give him a chance, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t about him chastising her.
Cindy Elliott was quite the mystery and he wasn’t finished trying to solve her. He’d see her stubborn and raise her a healthy dose of persistence.
Chapter Three
Cindy had clocked in from lunch after her unexpected encounter with Nathan and was now back to work. The afternoon stop in the NICU was next on her work sheet. Other than Dr. Charming going out of his way to talk to her in the cafeteria, it promised to be an ordinary afternoon. Then everything changed. And it all happened so fast.
One minute Cindy was running a long-handled dusting tool over the linoleum floor, the next Nathan was there with a tiny baby. He was calmly issuing orders like a general in the thick of battle.
The common sense move was to get out of the way even if directions to do just that in the event of a medical crisis hadn’t been drilled into her. Cindy had been employed at Mercy Medical Center for nearly two years and had seen her share of medical situations but never one involving Nathan Steele. She knew what he did, had seen his medical practice partner in action, but she had never actually witnessed him saving a little life. And she had a bad feeling that her life was about to change. She couldn’t help thinking that darn raffle ticket had somehow altered fate to put her in his orbit.
From her protected position against the wall she could hear the team talking and knew the baby boy was a twenty-five-weeker born just minutes ago by C-section. That made him about four months premature. He was already intubated, and they were using a bag to force air into his lungs. The person bagging the baby was her friend, Harlow Marcelli, who worked in the Respiratory Therapy department.
Cindy couldn’t really see what the staff was doing to the baby, but Nathan was taller than everyone and the strain and intensity on his face were clearly visible. When bodies parted, she noticed that he was using two fingers on the tiny chest, compressions for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
After listening with the stethoscope, he said, “Let’s get him on a ventilator. IV line stat and electrodes for EKG. I need to surf him.”
She made a mental note to ask what that meant.
Meanwhile, the troops moved to follow his orders, and moments later there were tubes and machines in place. Tracings on the monitors were blue, green and pink—each to distinguish a different function to be watched.
“I need blood gases,” Nathan said.
Instantly Harlow moved, like a runner off the block at the sound of the starting pistol. In a few minutes, Nathan looked at the readings and nodded.
“He’s a fighter. I think the little gladiator is stable for the moment. Watch him. I want to know if anything changes. I’ll be right outside.” He looked at the staff who’d fought with him. “Great job, everyone. I’m going to talk to the dad. Mom’s still in recovery.”
Cindy moved slightly to her right, to see through the double glass doors and out into the hall. The father was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, blonde and blue eyed, with terror all over his face. She couldn’t hear what was said, but as Nathan talked some of the fear drained from the man’s expression, leaving your garden-variety worry in its wake. When the man glanced over, she could also see love for the tiny little life fighting to survive. The gladiator, Nathan had called him.
Just last night he’d told her that if he couldn’t see or touch something, he didn’t believe it existed. How could he not see the love in that father’s eyes?
“He’s pretty awesome, isn’t he?”
Cindy jumped at the sound of her friend’s voice, then turned. “You startled me. I didn’t know you were there.”
“Yeah. I can see you’re distracted.” Harlow Marcelli was a pretty, green-eyed brunette and the fairy godmother who’d loaned her the patched-up pumps for the fundraiser.
“Not preoccupied. Just doing my job,” she defended.
“Yeah.” Her friend glanced to where the two men were still talking. “If your job is to watch Dr. Hot Stuff.”
“Not my day to keep an eye on him.” Cindy deliberately turned her back to the doors. “No matter how many times I see you do your thing, it never fails to amaze me. You were pretty awesome just now.”
“Thanks.” Harlow slid a glance over her shoulder at the isolette surrounded by state-of-the-art equipment. “He’s not out of the woods yet. I hope he’s a fighter like the doc said.”
“Me, too. The gladiator.” She smiled.
“The staff usually gives the preemies nicknames,” Harlow explained, echoing what Nathan had already told her. “Something inspirational to live up to.”
“Live being the operative word. It surprised me coming from Nathan—” She stopped when the other woman gave her a funny look.
“Since when do you call him by his first name?”
“Oh, that—”
“Yeah, that.”
Cindy glanced over her shoulder where he still stood in the hall. “We sat at the same table at the fundraiser last night.”
“And?”
“The glue on your shoe didn’t hold up.”
“Later with the shoes news.” Harlow’s green eyes snapped with impatience. “When did you start calling Dr. Charming Nathan?”
“Last night. When he asked me to.”
“Why?” Her friend added, “Did he ask you to, I mean?”
“Probably because he didn’t know who I was.”
“I need more information than that.”
Cindy gripped the long handle of her dusting device. “He sat next to me, bought me a drink and said I looked familiar, but he couldn’t place me.”
“He didn’t recognize you?” Surprise jumped into Harlow’s eyes.
“Not even when I made him guess.”
“You didn’t,” her friend scoffed.
“I did.” Cindy had her reasons and it had seemed like a good ide
a at the time.
“Hot damn,” Harlow said. “I can’t wait to tell Whitney and Mary Frances that we literally transformed you into a mystery woman. That’s so cool.”
“Not really. When I saw him this morning, he figured it out.”
When he smelled her perfume. That memory made her stomach do a funny little shimmy and she told herself it was only because something that sensitive was out of character for Nathan Steele.
“Was he mad?”
It would have been easier if he had been. Then giving him a hard time would have been justified and not just turned her into a roaring witch.
“No. He took it well. Even apologized to me for over-reacting and yelling at me in here yesterday. Then he asked for my phone number again,” Cindy explained.
The other woman’s jaw dropped. “Again?”
“I refused to give it to him when he asked me last night. After he caught up with me. And he only did because your shoe broke.”
“He chased you?” Harlow folded her arms over her chest. “This gets better and better.”
“It was time for me to go.”
“Apparently he didn’t agree.”
“That’s just because my identity was still in question and that intrigued him,” Cindy said. “Sort of like when a superhero assumes an alter ego. It’s the whole don’t-I-know-her-from-somewhere? thing.”
“Then what was his excuse for asking again today?”
“He’s one of those guys who can’t take no for an answer.”
“And why should he? Women in this hospital are taking numbers in the line to snap him up.” Warning slid into her friend’s eyes. “Let him call. You don’t have to commit to anything. And I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Preaching to the choir, H,” Cindy said. “I don’t have time for the games.”
Just then Nathan walked back into the unit to check on the baby.
“Gotta go,” Harlow said.
Cindy turned away and finished her job in the NICU, then slipped out the door. Her clean cart was against the wall in the hall. She was still putting away her cleaning supplies when she heard the doors behind her whisper open. It could have been anyone, but not just anyone made the hair at her nape prickle. Only Nathan did that and the development was recent. And, annoyingly enough, recurring.
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