The Doctor's Guardian. Marie Ferrarella

      “Oh God.”

      Her heart hammering in her chest, Nika scrambled up her rescuer’s body, acutely aware of its hardness and all the contours she brushed against—both his and hers—in her effort to get out of this dark, confining space.

      And then she was out. Out of the car and on top of it, where the cables, the grease and an entire array of uncountable dead insects all came together. Nika huddled on top of the car, pulling her body as far into herself as she could.

      Just above her head were the parted elevator doors—and light!

      “Move over,” Cole shouted up to her. “I want to come up.”

      “Sorry,” she apologized. Still crouching, she tried to make herself even smaller as, attempting to move as little as possible, she shifted away from the opening. To keep from being overwhelmed by this whole ordeal, Nika forced herself not to look down. “Now what?” she asked.

      He took a moment to draw in a few breaths. His hand just above her huddled body, her scowling rescuer held on to the cable. He gave her the impression that he could just swing himself off his perch like some modern-day Tarzan whenever the whim hit him.

      “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked her.

      “It would be,” she allowed magnanimously. “If my brain worked.”

      Fingers lightly encircling the cable, her rescuer rose to his feet, as sure-footed as if he’d been born mid-leap between skyscrapers. How could he do that? she marveled. How could he seem so casual, standing on top of the elevator car? Had he grown up on the side of a mountain?

      “Now I get you up to the fourth floor,” he answered glibly.

      When she didn’t rise on her own to stand beside him, Cole took her hand and began to tug her up to her feet. When he felt her resistance, he looked down at her expectantly.

      “Look, you’ve got to stand up,” he told her gruffly. “I can’t just hurl you out the door like you were some kind of discus.”

      “Right.” Nika exhaled, rising shakily to her feet. Her hand was tightly wrapped around his as if he was her lifeline.

      It suddenly occurred to him that there might be more at play here than he’d thought. “Are you afraid of heights?”

      “I wasn’t when I first got on,” Nika answered honestly. “But now I’m not so sure.”

      She was still holding on to his hand as he shifted her around so that they were both facing the parted doors on the next floor. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he’d released her hand and placed both of his on either side of her waist.

      “Look up,” he instructed. When she did, he said, “There’s your way out.”

      All she could think was, So near and yet so far. Short of him hurling her like that discus he’d mentioned, she couldn’t see how she was going to get out. “Yes, if I was a foot taller.”

      His hands tightened around her waist. Something swirled around in her stomach in response. Panic?

      “Don’t worry, you will be,” he promised. “Okay, on the count of three.”

      “What on the count of three?” She had an uneasy feeling she wasn’t going to like this.

      “You jump. I thrust and push.”

      “You what?” she demanded, twisting around so that she could look at him. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying.

      But apparently he was already counting, albeit quietly, and “three” was on the tip of his tongue. It emerged half a split second later as he shoved her upward with a mighty thrust.

      Stunned and caught off guard, Nika hadn’t jumped to give her body the momentum it needed. But the man who had come to her rescue still managed to get her up to the point that she could get her arms and the upper part of her torso out between the parted doors.

      Leaning her whole body into it and snaking forward, she managed to keep from sliding back down. She’d gained a hold. Not stopping to celebrate the feat, she pushed and, using her elbows in a back and forth momentum, she scrambled out a little farther.

      That was when a passing orderly she was marginally familiar with saw her. Gerald Mayfield came running over to offer his help. Taking both her hands as gently as possible, he succeeded in getting her up to her feet.

      The next moment, the man who’d gotten her out in the first place was using his arms to vault himself off the roof of the same elevator car.

      She swung around to look at him. There was a half-amused smile on his lips.

      “Was it good for you?” he asked. “It was good for me.”

      “Getting out was wonderful for me,” she answered, focusing only on the literal interpretation of his question. Nika stopped to take a deep breath before saying anything else. “Who are you?” she asked again, repeating what she’d asked him when he’d burst upside down into the elevator car.

      “Are you all right, Doctor Pulaski?” Gerald asked, concerned. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was interrupting her.

      “Yes, thank you, I am.” Nika started to brush herself off with the flat of her hand, resigned to the fact that it was futile. “And thanks to you,” she added, turning to look at the man who had gone out of his way to extricate her from the elevator.

      “Before you think I’m just some random do-gooder,” he told her, brushing aside her thanks, “I want you to know that I had an ulterior motive for getting you out of there.”

      He caught her completely by surprise with that one. Just what kind of an ulterior motive was he talking about? She did her best to seem both game and ever-so-slightly on her guard.

      He saw a ray of uncertain suspicion enter her eyes. Good. He didn’t think much of people who were too naive to be suspicious. Better safe than sorry.

      “You were on your way to see Ericka Baker when the elevator died on you, right?”

      She eyed him quizzically. “How would you know something like that?”

      Was this a new doctor on the staff whom she hadn’t met yet? At this point, she had a nodding acquaintance with most of the physicians at Patience Memorial, but a few might have slipped her attention. Although, looking at this one—especially right side up—she couldn’t see how that was possible.

      “Did the chief of staff send you to the Geriatric Unit?” she asked.

      God knew she could use the help, and it wasn’t because she didn’t know what she was doing. She’d worked summers while attending both undergraduate school and medical school and each position she took involved working with seniors, both veterans and private citizens, in various different hospitals. She had a very soft spot in her heart for the elderly, but there were only so many bedsides she could be at during the course of a single day. Nika was completely overwhelmed by the amount of work there was, and right now there were only two physicians in the unit to shoulder that work.

      “No.” Busy trying to remove several grease spots from his slacks with his handkerchief, Cole raised his head in time to see the look of disappointment on her face. “Ericka Baker’s my grandmother.”

      Giving his slacks one more pass with the handkerchief, he frowned, gave up and shoved the oil-smudged item back into his pocket again.

      “Oh.” She focused on the bright side. He might not be here to help her with the patient load, but he’d come to her aid nonetheless. “I guess it’s lucky for me that you’re so interested in her welfare.”

      He nodded his head, dismissing what sounded like the beginning of a thank-you speech.

      “So—” He gave her a quick once-over. “Do you need some time to pull yourself together?”

      Except for