A Time To Mend. Angela Hunt

glared at Stacy’s reflection in the mirror. “I hope you set him straight. I like kids, and Megan’s one of my favorite patients!”

      “That’s what I told him.” An indulgent glint appeared in Stacy’s eyes. “And I told him the truth—you haven’t the heart for working with the younger patients when things begin to go downhill. I told him that though you’re one of the best nurses in the hospital, that tough act of yours is just that—an act. You carry it off okay around adults, but around kids and animals you melt like a marshmallow on the grill.”

      “Stacy—” Jacquelyn’s lips thinned with anger “—you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Don’t forget, you dragged me off and made me go see the Lion King with you. You were bawling like a baby in the first five minutes of the movie.”

      “It was the song. Music moves me.”

      “Yeah, right.” Stacy smiled and shook her head. “‘The Circle of Life,’ remember? You couldn’t take it. Face it, Jacquelyn, you may have the patients fooled, but you can’t fool me and Lauren. We know you too well.”

      “You didn’t have to say anything to Dr. Frigidaire. I hope you didn’t tell him that I cry in kids’ movies—”

      “Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t.” Stacy grinned and moved toward the door. “Well, I’ll miss you at the party. And since you don’t want Dr. Fenton, I’ll consider him fair game.”

      “Have at him,” Jacquelyn answered, turning to follow her. “I’m going home where my very considerate, always steady Craig has promised to meet me for dinner.”

      “Craig Bishop?” Stacy made a face as she pulled the heavy restroom door open. “I thought you two broke up.”

      “No.” Jacquelyn caught the door. “After six months, we’re as steady as ever—or as steady as a couple can be when one of them is the world’s most ambitious entrepreneur. Craig’s the one who put the word ‘rising’ in ‘enterprising.’”

      “Yeah, he’s a regular Mr. Wall Street,” Stacy quipped, leading the way out of the ladies’ room. “And about as dull as a dog biscuit.”

      “Hey!” Jacquelyn lifted a brow. “Don’t knock dog biscuits—they definitely have a place in the scheme of things.” She smiled, thinking of Bailey, her year-old mastiff pup.

      “Oh, yeah, I forgot about your drool hound.” Stacy’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Honestly, Jackie, if you spent as much time and attention on men as you do that mutt—”

      “My mastiff is no mutt,” Jacquelyn answered, waving goodbye to Gaynel at the reception desk. “And he drools only a little more than a salivating young doctor. So good night, Stacy. Have fun keeping the wolves at bay.”

      A warm wind whipped through Jacquelyn’s hair as she zigzagged through the parking lot toward her car. The wide highway outside the hospital hummed with six o’clock traffic, causing her to mutter, “Please, Craig, for once in your life, leave work on time!”

      Craig Bishop was extremely devoted to his custom car business and, despite herself, Jacquelyn had to smile at the memory of Stacy’s dog biscuit remark. Craig was a bit like a lovable, cuddly golden retriever. Solid, strong and responsible. Good husband material.

      A blur of movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Dr. Jonah Martin standing next to a red Mustang convertible parked near her own car. With one hand he carried a battered briefcase, with the other he dug uselessly in his pocket for his car keys. Jacquelyn felt her frown deepen. She should have known Dr. Baked Alaska would drive a modest sports car—it fit the casual, nice-guy image he tried to project for his patients.

      She wanted to ignore him, but if she walked by without speaking he’d realize she’d deliberately been rude—and would probably say something about it tomorrow. “Having trouble?” she called, reluctantly pausing as she passed. “Did you lose your keys?”

      “No,” he answered, looking over at her. Like Stacy, he’d changed clothes, too. His gold hair moved freely now in the wind, blowing over the collar of a casual knit shirt. In baggy pants and loafers, he looked more like a GQ model than a doctor. He was probably trying to look like a friendly, easygoing kind of guy for some party at the country club.

      Nice try, Dr. Martin. But it won’t work.

      “I know they’re here somewhere.” His gaze dropped quickly from her eyes to the pavement at his feet. “Unless I’ve grown a hole in my pocket. Ah—there.”

      With a flourish he produced his keys and held them up for her to see. She nodded and began to move away. “Wait a moment, Nurse Wilkes,” he said, unlocking the car door. “I’d like a word with you.” His words sent alarm bells ringing within her. Was this about Megan? Mrs. Baldovino? Against her will, she stopped while he opened the door, tossed his briefcase into the backseat, then came around the car to stand beside her.

      Instinctively, she turned to face him head-on, ready for whatever attack he might launch. This could not be good. In five years of nursing she had learned that doctors did not request “a word” unless they had a complaint.

      Great job, Jacquelyn. First day back at work and the new guy already despises you.

      “Yes, Doctor?” She folded her arms and tried to steady her voice. “Have I done something that doesn’t meet with your approval?”

      He stepped closer, thrust his hands in his pockets, and for an instant a thoughtful smile ruffled his mouth. “That’s funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

      His nearness was so male, so bracing, that for a moment her mind refused to function. She could only stare blankly at him, struggling with the sense of confusion his presence elicited. The other doctors never affected her like this—and neither did Craig. Why should this man?

      He didn’t seem to notice that bewilderment had stolen her voice. “You see, Nurse Jacquelyn,” he went on, his eyes raking boldly over her, “though men are decidedly less intuitive and sometimes blind to the others around them, in the few hours of our acquaintance I have sensed that you harbor a profound dislike for me. And since we really have no choice but to continue working together, I need to know if this dislike will impede our working relationship. If you don’t like me personally, well, I suppose we can rise above our personality differences and concentrate on the work ahead. But if you have a problem with my professional conduct, my evaluations, or my practice, perhaps we should make arrangements for you to work solely with Dr. Kastner’s patients.”

      All traces of amusement faded from his blue eyes as he regarded her. Jacquelyn had been ready to protest whatever he said, but his words were so unexpected she snapped her mouth shut, stunned by his insight and bluntness. He had just voiced her exact complaint about him.

      She took a half step back, giving herself a stern mental shake. His complaint, if she could call it that, had nothing to do with her conduct, her evaluations, or her work. For an instant, relief flooded her heart, then her smoldering resentment flared. Why did he care what she thought of him? If this was just a ploy to help him appear generous and understanding, some trick to win friends and influence patients…

      “If you’ve gathered the impression that I don’t like you, I must apologize,” she answered, calling on reserves of grace and tact she didn’t know she possessed. “I’m sure that you’re a wonderful doctor. The patients seem to adore you, and the other nurses respect your judgment. Dr. Kastner seems to think you’re the best oncologist in the country.”

      “But not you.” His twisted smile sent her pulse racing.

      “I don’t share your sense of humor, Doctor. Mrs. Baldovino was very ill this afternoon, yet you joked with her, making light of her condition.”

      His expression stilled and grew serious. “I assure you, I am never more serious than when I am with a patient. I don’t make jokes about cancer. What I did, if you had cared