A Time To Mend. Angela Hunt

imagine.

      “Of course.” The infuriating man smiled again at his patient, whose nausea had apparently fled with the handsome doctor’s approach. “Mrs. Baldovino, I’m afraid we must get down to business. But my offer for that dinner still stands.”

      “I’ll hold you to it, Doctor,” the woman answered, her thin lips twitching with amusement as she took the doctor’s extended hand and slid from the examination table. “Lasagna it will be. But I’d rather have the tummy tuck for Ernesto.”

      “That’s plastic surgery and not my field, I’m sorry to say,” Dr. Martin answered, his voice pleasant as he stepped back to let Jacquelyn follow Mrs. Baldovino from the room. As Jacquelyn passed, she thought she detected a flicker in his intense eyes, but then he lowered his gaze to the patient’s chart and offhandedly remarked, “And it’s about time you returned from vacation, Nurse Wilkes. I must admit, I was anxious to observe the fabled ‘Nurse of the Year’ in action.” When he looked at her again, the mocking light was back in his eyes. “And now that I have, my life is complete.”

      No honest sentiment in that acknowledgment.

      “Good,” Jacquelyn countered, her mouth tight with mutiny. “Now you can die a happy man.” Without a backward glance, she lifted her chin and followed her patient to the chemo room.

      Chapter Two

      “So what did you think of him, Jackie?” Stacy applied just enough lipstick to emphasize her perfect mouth, then studied her reflection in the mirror of the ladies’ room.

      “Honestly?” Jacquelyn ripped a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, then dramatically scrunched it between her hands. “That’s what I wanted to do after my first meeting with him today. I think I really hate him.”

      “You do?” Stacy lifted a brow. “I’ll admit he’s no Doctor Delight, but he’s been very professional with me.” She pouted prettily in the mirror. “Too professional, in fact. It’s a shame that someone so good-looking has to be so…distant. I’ve been using every fail-proof approach in my little black book, and I can’t even get a spark of interest from him.”

      “Maybe he’s too busy for a social life.”

      “He’s only been here two weeks, how busy could he be? I think he’s got a girlfriend somewhere else. Dr. Kastner said he comes from Virginia—”

      “I’ve seen his history. He comes from about everywhere.” Jacquelyn cleared her throat, not wanting to appear too interested, but dying to know more. “Strange, isn’t it, that he’s moved around so much? Has Dr. Kastner said anything about this guy’s experience?”

      “Not really.” Stacy lowered her voice and turned to face Jacquelyn. “But now that you mention it, I have noticed something strange about him. Lauren tried to draw him into our conversation the other day at lunch, and when she mentioned the names of people she knows at the University of Virginia Hospital, he got real quiet and changed the subject. And then Dr. Kastner was asking him about someone in Seattle, and again, he changed the subject. Not too subtly, either.”

      “At least we know he didn’t amputate the wrong leg or something.” Jacquelyn folded her arms as she leaned against the sink. “He’s not a surgeon. But some strange things have happened in hospitals.”

      “Dr. Kastner wouldn’t have recommended him if he weren’t a good doctor,” Stacy pointed out. “You know that. So if there is some deep and dark secret in his past, you can be sure it has nothing to do with medicine.”

      “I hope not.” Jacquelyn threw the wadded up paper towel into the trash bin and studied her reflection in the mirror. The receptionist was right, not a single trace of her vacation lingered on her face. Not a freckle or even the flush of sunburn to indicate she’d spent two weeks moping on a Bahamas beach…

      “So, what about tonight?” Stacy pulled on a stray strand of hair. “Are you coming with me? There are bound to be half a dozen doctors at this party, all available, all up-and-coming and all desperate for a little relaxation and companionship.”

      “Thanks, but I’m not looking and I’m tired.” Jacquelyn lathered her hands carefully, then immersed them into a steady stream of warm water. Nursing school had brought her a healthy appreciation for the secret life of viruses and germs, and thorough hand washing had become somewhat of a ritual for her.

      “I’m pretty sure Dr. Jonah Martin won’t be there,” Stacy added helpfully.

      “Well, that’s something.” Jacquelyn lifted her hands out of the basin so that the water dripped down toward her elbows as she moved to the paper-towel dispenser. “But I didn’t bring a change of clothes, and I’m not going to a party in my uniform.” Stacy had already changed from her white pants and teal smock into a short, beaded cocktail dress. She looked every inch a sizzling girl of summer, and not a whit like a nurse.

      “You’ll be sorry,” Stacy answered in a singsong voice. “Have you met Dr. Fenton, the new guy in the surgical unit? He was asking about you the other day.”

      “Dr. Who?”

      “See, you really do want to come! Dr. Fenton is the tall Adonis with the killer smile. Last week he stopped Lauren in the cafeteria and asked who the gorgeous red-haired oncology nurse was.”

      “Maybe he wanted to report me for taking too many catsup packets in the lunch line.”

      “Nope. He told Lauren he saw you observing one of Dr. Wilder’s mastectomies. Said he was impressed with your commitment to knowledge, or something like that.”

      Jacquelyn snorted softly. “Yeah, right. They’re all looking for a woman who’s committed to them. If he wanted a good nurse, he wouldn’t care what I looked like, but he’s looking for a trophy wife just like the others. A little missus to sit in his elegant home and host his cocktail parties.”

      “What’s wrong with that?” Stacy flashed her bright smile in the mirror. “I’d be thrilled to stay home and organize a doctor’s social life. Lunching with the ladies at the country club beats the hospital cafeteria any day.” She paused once again to check her reflection in the mirror, then picked up the shopping bag into which she’d tossed her uniform. “After that call about Alicia Hubbard, I need a little cheering up. An evening of inane flirtation and senseless conversation suits me just fine. So are you coming or not?”

      “Have fun without me.” Jacquelyn tossed the wet paper towels in the trash bin and leaned toward the mirror, pointing at nonexistent bags under her eyes. “See how tired I am? Dr. Blue Eyes kept slowing me down all day.”

      Stacy grinned. “I didn’t think you’d notice what color his eyes were.”

      “I didn’t—I mean, I don’t care what color they are.” Jacquelyn studied her mussed hair and abruptly pulled the hairpins out of what had once been a neat chignon. “He’s all wrong, and he’s too familiar with the patients. He’s like Baked Alaska—warm and crumbly on the outside, but cold as ice on the inside. With me he was cool and sarcastic, but he was practically flirting with the patients.”

      “Jealous?” Stacy dimpled.

      “Of course not. I just think he’s unprofessional and flippant.”

      “But the patients think he’s cute and completely charming.” A thoughtful smile curved Stacy’s mouth. “I’ll admit he’s not exactly fun to work with, but patients seem to like him better than Dr. Winston. They often said he was too impatient.”

      “What do patients know?” Jacquelyn shrugged, then fluffed her hair around her shoulders. “The best doctors have learned to keep a professional distance and stick to a schedule.”

      “It all depends upon how you define ‘best.’” A devilish look filled Stacy’s eyes. “Well, you may not have noticed much about Dr. Martin, but he certainly noticed you.”

      Jacquelyn froze, halted by