by Regina Hart
Marilyn stiffened. She spied the notepad and pen in his hands. “No, you may not.” She turned from him and continued across the parking lot toward the hospital. She never wanted to see another reporter—especially one from the Horn—ever again.
The reporter kept pace with her. “Dr. Evans—”
“It’s Dr. Devry-Evans. If you’re going to stalk me, at least get my name right.” A quick glance at her watch showed it was seven-fifty in the morning. She had more than an hour before her first appointment and she could use every minute of it.
Hospital employees were either walking or running between the hospital’s parking lot and its entrance. The high activity was due in part to the shift change. It also was a response to the medical needs of the community.
Marilyn maneuvered around slower-moving pedestrians and yielded to cars and an ambulance as she crossed the parking lot. The click of her low-heeled shoes was barely audible on the asphalt. A warm breeze carried the scent of cut grass and spring blossoms from the nearby landscaping. It also tugged several strands of her hair loose from the clip at the nape of her neck. The tendrils tickled her cheeks before she brushed them back.
“I don’t write for the gossip section. I’m a sports reporter.”
Like that makes a difference. “I don’t care.”
“What do you say to people who are blaming you for your husband’s bad games?” Kirk’s voice was closer to her now.
Marilyn came to a sudden stop. Her blood began a slow boil. “How dare you harass me at my place of work? How long were you waiting in the parking lot?”
The same breeze that ruffled her hair riffled through his shaggy blond locks. A cocky grin brightened his round features. “About thirty minutes. I didn’t want to miss you in case you came in early.”
Marilyn unclenched her teeth. “You sound so proud of the fact that you were skulking around, waiting to invade someone’s privacy. How would you like it if I came to your job and harassed you?”
Kirk turned pages in his notepad. “There’s a simple solution. Give me a quote and I’ll leave.”
His audacity took Marilyn’s breath away. “Speak with my husband. He’s the basketball player, not me.” She started to walk again.
Kirk followed her. “But I want your perspective. Do you think it’s fair that the Monarchs fans blame you when the team loses?”
Why did the fans blame her? That’s what baffled her. She wasn’t even on the team. Marilyn stepped onto the curb. The entrance to the hospital was within her sight but still several yards away. “You cannot follow me into the hospital. This is where I work.”
Kirk dogged her footsteps. Was it arrogance or disrespect? “Then answer me out here and I’ll leave you alone.”
Marilyn sped up. “I’m a private citizen. I don’t have to grant you an interview. You’re wasting your time. Leave. Me. Alone.”
“The public is interested in you.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Give me one quote and I’ll leave you alone.” He adopted a wheedling tone. “Just a few words. Do you think you should be blamed when your husband plays poorly?”
She would never give him a quote. He wouldn’t be able to print it anyway. “I have nothing to say to you. Go away.”
“Is there a problem?” A gravelly male voice interrupted them.
Perfect.
Marilyn briefly closed her eyes, then turned to the hospital’s administrator. “Good morning, Arthur. There’s no problem. This man was just leaving.”
Arthur Posey surveyed Kirk from the top of the reporter’s too long, windblown hair to the tips of his battered brown loafers. “It sounded as though you were asking Dr. Devry-Evans for an interview.”
Kirk extended his hand. “Kirk West. I’m with the Horn. I asked Dr. Evans for a quote for a story we’re doing on her husband.”
Arthur regarded the younger man as though Kirk had introduced himself as a leper. “This is a hospital, not a media center. We deal in life and death here. If you want to speak with Dr. Devry-Evans, make arrangements to meet her elsewhere.”
Kirk let his hand drop. “I’m just asking for one quote. It’ll take five minutes.”
Arthur’s stare should have turned Kirk into a pillar of salt. “Leave now or I’ll have security remove you.”
Why hadn’t she thought of that? She watched the men exchange steely stares. Several hospital employees gave them curious looks and wide berths on their way to the hospital’s entrance.
Kirk nodded. “All right.” He looked to Marilyn. “I’ll call you later.”
“Please don’t.” Marilyn was inflexible. She kept her eyes on Kirk as he walked away. “Thank you, Arthur.”
“I sent him away for the hospital, not for you.”
Marilyn straightened her shoulders and met Arthur’s cool silver stare. She ignored the disdain stamped on the older man’s bony features. “I know, and I’m glad you did.”
He arched a thin, black brow. “Are you? Growing tired of the limelight?”
At this rate, her teeth would be ground to the nub by the end of the week. “I’ve never sought the limelight.”
His smile was stiff. His eyes were cool. “And yet you married a professional athlete. That’s like marrying the president, then being surprised that you’ve become the First Lady.”
Marilyn was tempted to shake Arthur’s tall, thin body until his teeth rattled. But he was six inches taller and twenty years older than her. Besides, he was her boss. “Believe what you like.” She turned to leave.
He fell into step beside her. His brown briefcase ensured she didn’t get too close. “Thank you. I think I will. In the interim, please make sure you don’t bring any more reporters onto hospital grounds. In case you’ve forgotten, our patients take priority. We can’t have disruptions or distractions to our mission.”
Our mission. He made the hospital staff sound like Templar Knights on a holy crusade.
Marilyn’s eyes stretched wide with incredulity. “I didn’t ask Kirk West to come to the hospital.”
“If that’s true, how did he know when you would arrive?”
Marilyn swallowed a sigh of frustration. “He waited for me in the parking lot.”
She hated Arthur’s false smile. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth. He just showed up.”
Arthur reached past her to open the door. He was chivalrous, even as he pissed her off. “That’s a good story.”
“Why won’t you believe me?” Marilyn entered the bustling hospital lobby. She took a deep breath, inhaling the satisfying scent of antiseptic as she waited for Arthur.
“Because people like you love living in the spotlight. That’s why someone with your options would continue to work outside the home. You feed off being the center of attention.” Arthur’s black dress shoes echoed against the tiled lobby almost in unison with Marilyn’s flats.
Marilyn gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”
Arthur adjusted his grip on his briefcase. “Why are you here?”
Her boss was asking her to defend herself and her work. The question hurt. It was tempting to pretend not to understand it but that was the coward’s way out. She wasn’t a coward, despite what Warrick had said yesterday.
Marilyn faced the older man. She adjusted the strap of her mud brown backpack higher on her shoulders. “I’m a doctor, and I’m good at what I do. That’s why I’m here and that’s why I won’t give up my career.”
Arthur gestured around the lobby. “The staff is distracted. Patients are complaining and now reporters are gathering in our parking lot. There’s only so much I can tolerate and you’re coming dangerously close to that line.”
Marilyn swallowed resentment and fear. The taste was bitter. “I understand.”
Arthur shook his head. He seemed confused. “Your husband is a multimillionaire. You don’t need the money.”
Cold seeped into her pores. Marilyn arched a brow. It was an attempt at bravado to mas
k her trepidation. “You’re beginning to make me feel like you don’t want me here.”
Arthur dragged a hand over his thinning gray hair. “Your presence has become disruptive since your husband has started drawing so much media attention.”
Marilyn tightened her grip on her backpack. “That wouldn’t be a problem if people worried less about my personal life and more about the hospital and our patients.”
“But you don’t have to be here. You don’t have to work.”
Marilyn blinked in mock surprise. “I wish you’d told me that eight years ago—before medical school and my residency.”
Arthur shrugged. “You know now. So why are you still working?”
“Would you ask the same question of a male doctor?”
“Yes, I would.”
She believed him. “I love what I do. I wouldn’t give it up even if I hit the lottery.”
Marilyn turned toward the obstetrics and gynecology unit. She manufactured a brisk and confident gait as she strode away from Arthur. For years, she’d wanted to be a baby doctor. So her presence was a distraction for the hospital? Too bad. She wasn’t giving up her dream for anything. Arthur would just have to deal with her.
Marilyn hesitated. She glanced around the hallway as people maneuvered around her. Was that the way Warrick felt about his career? His passion, commitment, and talent had led him to be one of the few players who succeeded in the NBA. His dream had come true just as hers had. How could she then ask him to give that up? But what would happen to them if he didn’t?
“Lena, you’re progressing wonderfully.” Marilyn spoke with satisfaction after completing her patient’s prenatal screening later that afternoon. She removed her gloves and closed the manila folder in which she kept Lena Alvarez’s medical files. “You’re right where you should be in your third trimester.”
“It’s not as though this is my first time.” The very pregnant mother of three wiggled into a more comfortable reclining position on the examination table.
Marilyn grinned. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes.” Lena rested the palms of her small hands on her belly. “When are you and Rick Evans getting back together?”
Marilyn’s smile faded. Had she heard the other woman correctly? “Excuse me?”
Lena’s Puerto Rican accent was more pronounced as she spoke louder. “I said when are you and Rick Evans getting back together?”
Marilyn’s gaze darted around the tiny yellow and white exam room. “Lena, when I asked if you had any questions for me, I meant questions that pertained to your health—”
“This does concern my health.” Lena rubbed her belly through the white paper gown. “The play-offs are causing me stress. Stress isn’t good for the baby. Evans needs to keep his mind on the game. He doesn’t need the distraction of an unhappy home.”
Marilyn’s cheeks heated. Had everyone lost their minds? When had her home life become an acceptable topic of public discourse? “Lena, I like you—”
Lena’s expression softened into a smile. “I like you, too, Doc.”
Marilyn shook her head at the woman’s antics. “I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you.” It was incredible that she was even having this conversation. Where was the hidden camera?
Lena’s big brown eyes widened. “Why not? Every time I come here, your nurse takes my height and weight, and asks me if I’m sexually active.” She gestured toward her belly with a comical expression. “All I want to know is if you and Evans are getting back together. You don’t have to tell me what he’s like in bed—unless you want to.”
Marilyn blinked. She must be the last sane person on earth. “I have no intention of discussing my sex life with you. My private life is private. It doesn’t have anything to do with the way my husband performs on the court.”
Lena stopped rubbing her belly. “Why else did he play like garbage the first game of the Miami Waves series?”
Marilyn stood. “That was Thursday. The Monarchs won game two Saturday. How do you explain that?”
She froze. The team had won Saturday night. But when she’d seen Warrick Sunday, she hadn’t even congratulated him. Instead she’d yelled at him for coming home. Marilyn’s heart was heavy. When had things between them become so crazy? And why?
Lena smiled. “You must be getting back together.”
“That’s it, Lena. We’re not having this conversation.” Marilyn offered Lena her hand to help her sit up. “I’m his wife, not his coach. It’s not my responsibility to explain his performance.”
Lena held on to Marilyn. “Well, if you’re so concerned with my health, you’ll straighten up your marriage, Doc. Otherwise, I’ll have a heart attack, and that won’t be good for the baby.”
Marilyn pinched the bridge of her nose. No one listened to her so why did she bother to say anything? The next time someone asked about her marriage, she’d just recite the stages of fetal gestation.
She released Lena’s hand. “Take care of yourself, Lena. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Marilyn pulled the examination room door closed to give Lena privacy to get dressed. She then strode down the hall, past the nurses’ station to the desk she used during her shift. She lifted her backpack onto its surface.
“Where’s Rick living these days?” Emma’s voice directly behind her startled Marilyn.
She spun around, pressing her hand against her chest. “Why are you sneaking up on people?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. So where is he?”
Marilyn dropped her hand and took a calming breath. “He’s home.” She turned back to her desk.
“With you?” Emma sounded incredulous. She came around to search Marilyn’s face. “He said he was moving out.”
Marilyn’s tense features eased into a wry smile as she relived Warrick’s homecoming. “He never actually said that. All he said was that I could move back in.”
Emma dropped into the stiff green chair beside the desk. “He lied to you.”
“No, he didn’t.” Why did she feel defensive?
Emma rolled her eyes. “Lying by omission is still lying. But it doesn’t matter. You can move back in with me.”
Marilyn settled in to the brown desk chair. “No, but thanks. The house is big enough for Rick and me to live together while we figure out what to do.” Warrick was right about that.
Emma’s eyes widened. “You’re going to stay there with him? Suppose he puts the moves on you?”
Marilyn frowned at Emma’s question. “He’s my husband. Besides, Rick’s a gentleman and I’m an adult. He won’t do anything that I don’t want him to do.”
Emma’s lips thinned. “And what do you want him to do?”
Marilyn deliberately misunderstood her friend’s question. “I want him to help me figure out what we should do.”
“You know what he’s going to say.”
Yes, she did. “Would that be so wrong?” Marilyn smoothed both palms over her hair, checking the clip that restrained the mass at her nape. “I didn’t even know who he was when we first met.”
Emma crossed her legs and adjusted her red skirt over her knee. “That’s sad.”
Marilyn shrugged. “He wasn’t famous at the time. A lot of people didn’t know who he was, including you. Then the Monarchs made the play-offs.”
Emma pursed her lips. “Now his picture’s in all the papers and his game highlights are on all the television stations.”
If Marilyn didn’t know better, she’d think her friend was jealous of her husband’s success.
“Once the team made the play-offs, we couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing him.” She spun her chair toward the desk. Her restless fingers released the fastenings on her backpack. “They stare at us when we go out to eat or pass him their movie tickets to autograph when we’re at the theaters. We’ve stopped going out.”
Emma shook her head. “I couldn’t live like that. I’d feel like a prisoner in my own home.”
So did she. Is that the way Warrick felt? Why hadn’t she ever asked him? “He always responds to the fans with good humor. But he can never relax. I can tell it puts a strain on him.”
“I meant you.” Emma sighed. “If I were you, I’d hate not being able to go out without people harassing me and my husband. You get married so you can share your life with another person. One other person. Because of Rick, you have to share your life with an entire city.”
Marilyn was proud of Warrick’s success. But the constant public attention was the inevitable dark side of celebrity. “It’s not his fault that the fans give him so much attention.”
“Whose fault is it?”
“The media’s.” With a finger, Marilyn traced an imaginary pattern on the surface of her backpack. “And they’re getting worse. This morning, a reporter tried to follow me into the hospital for an interview.”
Emma’s green eyes widened. “You’re kidding. What did you do?”
She didn’t want to relive that event. “Arthur showed up.”
“Oh, no.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, yes. The good news is he got rid of the reporter. The bad news is he blamed me for causing a disruption in the parking lot.”
Emma opened her eyes again. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s what I said. But you can’t reason with Arthur—unless you’re a member of the hospital’s board.”
“You’re right. So while Rick’s becoming famous, his fame is ruining your career.”
It sounded worse when Emma said it. “Don’t you think that’s exaggerating the situation?”
Emma counted her fingers. “Reporters are following you to work. Your boss is blaming you for the media disruption. And Janet and Dionne still haven’t accepted your offer to join their clinic.” She dropped her hands. “To top it off, patients are complaining about you whenever the team loses.”
Marilyn frowned. “How do you know what they’re saying about me?”
Emma waved a negligent hand. “I’ve heard them talking in the waiting rooms.”
Marilyn’s gaze slid away. “Talk about being unfair.”