In Close Quarters. Candace Irvin

the hell do you think—”

      An iron hand clapped over her mouth, cutting off the rest of her tirade. She waited none too patiently as TJ quickly reopened the door and hauled the cleaning cart inside. He snapped the door shut and shoved the cart up against it, then flipped on the radio at the edge of Eric’s desk.

      Soft rock filled the office.

      She glared at his coveralls. “Nice cover, José.”

      He folded his arms and shrugged.

      She did her damnedest not to let her gaze linger at the rolled sleeves hugging his dusky biceps as she continued to scowl. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’re doing in that outfit—and what you’re doing here?”

      “Why am I here? Perhaps we should start at the beginning, no? Why are you here?”

      “I work here, remember?”

      “A good try, Cariño. But you yourself told me you did not start for two weeks. You came to confront him, no?”

      “Doug? Of course not.”

      A single dark brow rose.

      She ignored it. “Look, all I did was stop by to drop off some stuff and check out a few medical journals. I’m way behind in my reading. I was out of the country for six months, you know.”

      “This, I know. I also remember seeing a stack of journals on your kitchen counter last night.”

      Damn. Busted again.

      She shrugged. “So I’m missing a few. I like to read them in order.”

      He shook his head, actually chuckling as he stared at her ears. “Cariño, if you intend on persisting with these lies, you may want to consider growing your curls again.”

      Oooh, she really did not like this man.

      So why did her heart have to start thumping erratically as he leaned back against Eric’s desk? And why did she have to notice the way the muscles of his chest strained against those blasted coveralls as he leaned over to pick up the crystal paperweight?

      Undercover—ha! Suiting TJ Vásquez up like a janitor was tantamount to slapping a collar on a panther and passing it off as a newborn kitten. His arms flexed as he tossed the crystal globe in the air. He caught it neatly, then stared into it.

      “This man, you know him?”

      “Who? Eric?”

      “Sí. Eric.”

      “I met him two minutes before you walked in.”

      He glanced up. She could have sworn he was startled. “And yet you date him?”

      What the…? “No, I’m not dating him. I told you, I just met the man.”

      “But you agreed to have lunch with him, no?”

      “He asked, I accepted. Then he canceled. Are you finished with the third degree?”

      “Why?”

      She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Why did you accept?”

      What the devil was he getting at? And why was he staring into that stupid crystal again as if it could divine the future of the world? “Because he offered.”

      “I have…offered.”

      That was what this was about?

      Perversely, she smiled. “His was interesting.”

      Liar.

      TJ flipped the crystal into the air again, waiting until the last possible moment before catching it. His gaze narrowed as he studied the clear depths. “This lieutenant, have you considered he may be involved?”

      “Because he asked me out? Thanks. That says a lot about your own invitation if you’re so sure he had to have an ulterior motive.” But she remembered Eric’s hands—in her desk. “Besides, I want to help. I need to. Not only that, someone obviously thought I could. If the note’s even real. Maybe if I get to know Eric and some of the other residents, something will click.”

      “What?”

      “I don’t know. Something.”

      TJ tossed the paperweight a final time before setting it back down on the desk. He folded his arms across his chest, his gaze dark and brooding as it met hers. “Cariño, I must ask you to stay away from the hospital for a few days. Take your vacation, visit your mother.”

      She frowned. “My mother lives an hour away in La Jolla.”

      “Visit her, anyway. You have been gone awhile. Or go to the beach, read your journals. Just stay away from here.”

      “Why?”

      “Just do it. Please.”

      “No.”

      He sighed.

      “I mean it, TJ. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to do better than that. Tell me what you’re holding back—and don’t tell me you’re not keeping something from me. What is it you said about the note last night? Oh, yes, ‘Most likely this means naught, but I will look into it.”’

      At least he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “It was necessary.”

      She stared at his coveralls. “Necessary to poke your nose in this deep or necessary to lie to me about it?”

      “I did not lie.”

      “Oh, no?” She jerked her chin toward the cleaning cart. “I suppose that’s your idea of looking into something discreetly?”

      “The situation has changed.”

      “That much is obvious or you wouldn’t be so damned anxious to get rid of me. What I want to know is how? Exactly how has the situation changed and what was it like to begin with?”

      He glanced over his shoulder at the door, then turned back. “Not here. Meet me later. We will speak then.”

      Dammit, she knew he’d been holding out on her. And from the look in those deep-brown eyes, whatever he was holding on to was something big. It figured. Another he-man who just had to take care of the little lady—for her. Well she wasn’t bowing to it.

      Not with him.

      She shook her head firmly. “You’ll tell me now, or I’ll do what I should have done yesterday. I’ll— Oh, God. You told Dr. Manning, didn’t you?” She slumped onto the edge of her desk and closed her eyes, as she watched her short career flash before them. The coveralls, the cleaning cart. Suddenly it all made sense. “That’s why you’re here. Manning knows I found the note.”

      “No.”

      She opened her eyes.

      TJ shook his head.

      “But he does know you’re here, right?”

      Again he shook his head.

      “You mean to tell me, you came in here undercover and you didn’t even clear it with the head of anesthesiology? What did you find out about Doug?”

      TJ tugged off his ball cap, staring at the bill as he curled it.

      “Just tell me.”

      Dread slid down her spine as he continued to study the cap. He finally sighed and looked up. “I do not know if this Señor Callahan is involved or not. Three days ago—well before you got your note—my office received a call from San Diego General. Two teenagers were brought into the emergency room just after midnight. They were dead when they arrived. Drug overdose.”

      Oh, God.

      Class twos are walking.

      The dread reversed its track, snapping back up her spine and slamming into the base of her skull. She rubbed