Mac’s Bedside Manner

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Heading my way, Nurse DeLuca?”

  Still preoccupied with what had happened earlier, and what had almost happened in the operating room less than half an hour ago, Jolene hadn’t even seen him standing there.

  Startled, she resumed her clip-walk down the corridor. It looked as if her streak of bad luck was continuing. She never slowed her pace. “I’m going to the parking structure.”

  He fell into place beside her, his long legs cutting the distance quickly. “Then you’re heading my way.”

  Her mood was bad. She shot him an annoyed glance. Great, this was all she needed to top off a perfect day, to have him hit on her. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  His expression was guileless. “Not at the moment.” Mac peered at her profile. He hadn’t been mistaken earlier. Hers was clearly a troubled face. “Something wrong?”

  She picked up her pace. “Yes, I’m being stalked by a doctor.”

  “Besides that.” He followed her through the revolving door. “You look upset. More upset than I could make you,” he added for good measure.

  Guilt had all but eaten away at her ability to maintain her temper. “It’s none of your business,” she snapped.

  If she was trying to push him away, she wasn’t succeeding. Wounds of any sort spoke to him—on both a personal and professional level.

  “Healing is my business.” And then, less seriously, he added, “See, two ears, no waiting.” The smile on his lips wasn’t seductive or sensual, just coaxing. “You look like a woman who needs to talk.”

  The evening air was cool, bracing. She could smell more rain in the air. All she wanted to do right now was get away from him. “I don’t want to talk—”

  He let her get a step ahead of him, not wanting to crowd her. “I said needs to, not wants to.”

  She swung around to face him. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he could go, posthaste, to a southerly location, travel accommodations via a handbasket, but something stopped her.

  Maybe it was the need he was talking about. Staring unseeing into the mouth of the parking structure, she took a deep breath. The guilt, the blame, just tumbled out.

  “I almost killed him.”

  Mac took an educated guess. “The man in the emergency room?” He came up to her, resisting the temptation to put his arm around her in comfort. He knew she wouldn’t take it that way, she’d take it as an advance. His hands remained at his sides. “What are you talking about? I saw you in there. You handled it like a pro.”

  She shook her head. “No, not today. The other day. He came in a few days ago complaining of chest pains. I did an EKG on him and told him he was fine.”

  Her admission caught him off guard. This was serious. “You diagnosed him?”

  “No,” she spat out, taking the question as blame. “I know my ‘place,’ Doctor. I just answered his question when he asked about the results.”

  Very carefully, Mac felt his way through the mine field. “It’s not a matter of ‘place,’ but you should have left that for the doctor on duty.”

  Ready for a fight, welcoming it, Jolene fisted her hands on her hips. “I did. I told him the doctor would be by to talk to him. I even told him that he should see Dr. Graywolf, just to be sure.” Damn it, she’d done everything right, why did it feel so wrong? “I didn’t know he’d check himself out and just go home.”

  Only to be brought in by the paramedics his wife had called when she found him on the floor, gasping for air and clutching his chest.

  The specter of what could have happened weighed heavily on her.

  There was no point in lecturing her. She seemed to have taken care of that on her own. “What matters is that he’s okay now.”

  Didn’t he get it? Was he willing to whitewash everything just to get on her good side and crawl into bed with her? “But I could have killed him,” she insisted heatedly.

  A family, obviously visitors, made their way into the parking structure. Mac stepped aside to give them room, waiting until they passed to speak.

  “No,” he said patiently, “he could have killed him. You don’t get a body like that overnight,” he pointed out. The man was three hundred and fifty pounds if he was an ounce. “He’d slowly been killing himself for years and when he pressed you for answers, he just wanted to hear someone tell him that he wasn’t.”

  It didn’t make her feel any better about it. “And I came to his rescue.”

  “Yes, you did,” Mac told her firmly. “You were part of the team that saved his life.” He stopped, realizing he was taking something for granted. “You did save him, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. Otherwise, she didn’t think she could have stood it. “He’s in CCU.”

  The hell with playing it safe. Mac slipped his arm around her in the most gentle way possible. One friend to another. “All right, then stop beating yourself up. You got a degree in nursing, not clairvoyance. Bad calls happen to all of us, even Super-nurses.”

  She drew in a long breath, then exhaled, trying to calm down, trying to gain perspective. She looked at him. This wasn’t what she expected. “Why are you being so nice?”

  A twinkle came into his eye. “I’m a nice guy, Nurse DeLuca. Haven’t you heard?”

  She tried to remember this was the man she’d been warned about. That this was the man who collected women’s hearts the way others collected baseball cards. “I heard a lot of things.”

  His grin was quick, bright and went straight into her chest, unsettling her heart. Waking up butterflies sleeping peacefully in her stomach.

  “Only the good parts are true.” They’d reached her car. He paused, knowing she still needed to talk. And he still needed to help. “Feel like grabbing a cup of coffee somewhere? Or is your mother going out on another hot date?”

  “Not tonight—”

  His car was on the next level. He sank his hands into his pockets and took a step away from her. “All right.”

  She realized he thought she was turning him down. Something scrambled within her, telling her not to let him leave. “No, I meant she’s not going out tonight.”

  “Oh?” He retraced his steps. “Then coffee would be all right?”

  She couldn’t seem to prevent the smile that came to her lips. It was a continuation of the one she felt inside. “Coffee would be all right.”

  There was something slightly different about her now. More open. He decided to take a chance. “How about dinner?”

  She opened her mouth to say no, to tell him not to push it. How the word yes came out she had no idea. But it did. Naked and vulnerable, but with its head held up high. And eager.

  “Yes.”

  “Where would you like to go?” He thought of several places in the area she might like.

  “Home first. I need a shower.” She wanted to wash the last of her guilt away before going out with him.

  My God, she was actually going out with him.

  The thought struck her like a marble headpiece across her chest.

  He could do with a change of clothing himself, he thought. “I’ll pick you up in an hour? How’s the Italian House sound?”

  “Fine, but I’ll meet you there.”

  She was still cautious, he saw. Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was the road to Rome. Amusement teased his mouth.

  “Separate cars, very independent and modern. Do we get to share the same table?”

  “Yes.” Funny, she didn’t balk at his teasing the way she might have. Today had really shaken her up. “But all we do is talk.”

  He looked at her very solemnly. “I never make love in a restaurant. Doesn’t go with the entrée.”

  Jolene heard herself laughing. It felt good.

  Mac glanced at his watch. It was seven-thirty. He’d been sitting at the table, working his way through the bread sticks, for the last half hour.

  Maybe she wasn’t—

  And then he saw her. Following in the wake of the hostess. Looking better in a simple
light-blue dress than anyone had a right to. He half rose in his chair, feeling his knees lock into place.

  The hostess left Jolene at the table with a menu and faded into the background.

  Everyone did.

  As far as he was concerned, Jolene was the only one there. “I was beginning to think that you’d changed your mind.”

  Jolene opened the menu, but although she skimmed it, she didn’t see a word. She was suddenly acutely aware of the man sitting opposite her. Aware of how handsome he was in a light-gray suit, aware of the light scent of aftershave that seemed to burrow its way into her senses.

  “Not about dinner, just about my clothes. I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

  She could have come wearing aluminum foil and it wouldn’t have mattered. He just wanted her there. “I’m flattered you went to all that trouble.”

  She didn’t want him to think he had any more of an advantage than he already did.

  “Don’t be. I just couldn’t remember where anything was packed.” She took another look at the menu, trying to focus this time. “My clothes are still tucked away in three boxes.”

  “Only three?” he marveled. She really was unique. “Most women I know would have had five or seven boxes—and that would be just for the weekend.”

  She looked at him pointedly. “Most women you know wind up naked.”

  He laughed, tickled, not taking offense even though he had a feeling she would have preferred to start something now. “I’ll be sure to tell Wanda that next time I see her.”

  Jolene frowned. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. And you’re wrong.” The woman was taking things way out of proportion. “If I had the kind of life you’re crediting me with, I wouldn’t have time to eat, much less operate.”

  She raised a brow in his direction. “I’m sure you operate just fine.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the food server approaching their table. Her stomach contracted at the same time, making her realize that she was starved, as well as nervous.

  She welcomed the diversion.

  She really hadn’t expected MacKenzie to be as nice as he was.

  All through dinner, she kept telling herself it was just part of his act, part of his plan to get her to lower her guard. But she’d driven her own car and was free to leave at any time, so maybe he really was as nice as he came across.

  Or maybe he just wanted her to think this way.

  By the end of the evening, her head was buzzing and it had nothing to do with the single glass of wine she’d had. She just wasn’t sure about him or the way she felt, both earlier and now. She wasn’t sure about anything except that she was still shaken up by the events of the afternoon and what she’d almost done.

  To MacKenzie’s credit, he’d done his best to talk her out of it, to patiently point out that, like it or not, she was like all the rest of them: human. Since the patient was still alive, it was pointless to dwell on what “might have been.” The fact of the matter was, it hadn’t “been.” Graywolf had performed an emergency bypass and everything looked hopeful.

  Mac signed the receipt the server had left at his plate and pocketed his credit card. “Would you like to come over to my place for a nightcap?”

  She was hoping he wouldn’t ask, because she did want to come over. That was the problem.

  Discretion, she reminded herself, had always been the better part of valor. Since she was driving, she fell back on a standard excuse. “I’d better not. One drink is my limit.”

  He pulled out her chair for her. Old-fashioned manners. When was the last time that had happened? she wondered.

  “I have ginger ale,” he said.

  He had his hand against the small of her back, guiding her through what had become a crowded room. Small, warm shivers were dancing in the wake of his fingers, bringing every part of her body to attention. And awareness. “You also have a very persuasive manner.”

  He smiled at her as he opened the door. “I’m counting on it.”

  Jolene bit her lip, debating. Knowing she shouldn’t. She hadn’t trusted MacKenzie before, what made her think she could trust him now?

  “Just ginger ale, nothing else?”

  “Unless you find something else you like—in my refrigerator,” he qualified when she raised a brow.

  There was a teasing note in his voice she deliberately overlooked. “Fair enough. You’ll notice the operative word here is fair.”

  Taking her hand in his, he wove his way through the parking lot to where they had left their cars. “It always is.”

  Which was how Jolene came to find herself at his place.

  MacKenzie’s town house was located in a development that had only recently gone up, its proximity closer to the hospital than her own home. Commuting, for Mac, was something that took a matter of minutes.

  Tall, stately, the three-story house was nestled in between two similar homes. The buildings gave the appearance of tall, thin soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder in formation at revelry.

  Inside, unlike her house, there was a minimum of clutter. It was apparent that Mac didn’t get involved with owning things. She wondered if the color scheme reflected his view of life. Everything was either black or white, including the walls, rug and furniture.

  Keeping her purse close, contemplating escape even as she stood there, Jolene looked slowly around. “Don’t you like color?”

  He was already in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Because of the nature of the house, there were only two rooms per floor. The first had a living room and kitchen. The family room and formal dining area were upstairs. Mac maintained it allowed him to walk off his calories, going from one level to another.

  “I found color was always difficult to match things to.” He returned with a bottle of ginger ale and two glasses. Setting down the latter, he filled them. Ginger ale fizzed and sparkled like champagne as it made its descent into the glasses. “You can’t go wrong with black and white.”

  She accepted the glass from him. “Very practical of you.” Jolene studied him for a moment. “You don’t strike me as the practical sort.”

  He laughed shortly, but there was humor in his eyes. “We already know what I strike you as—someone just above an amoeba in the evolutionary scale.”

  She almost choked on the sip she was taking, stifling a laugh. “No, higher than that.”

  “I’ve been redeemed?”

  Feeling magnanimous, she gave him his due. “You’re nice to children and nurses who mess up.”

  “I’m nice to everyone,” he corrected and in general, he tried to be. Life was too short to bear grudges. He sat down on the sofa, urging her to join him by silent example. “Especially to nurses who mess up.”

  Very slowly, she sat down on the opposite end. Jolene cocked her head, wondering if she’d been all wrong about him. Or if the truth lay somewhere in the middle.

  About the only thing she did know was that he had beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes that could look into a woman’s soul.

  Two seconds before they stole it.

  “Because we’re easy prey?”

  He shook his head. Struggling with the urge to touch her, he held the stem of his glass just a little tighter. “Now there you go again, making me sound like some kind of predator. I’m kind to nurses who mess up because I don’t like seeing people down on themselves. Life’s too short to dwell on what went wrong.” His voice softened. “Learn from it and move on.”

  She looked up at him pointedly. “By those standards…”

  He knew she was talking about her ex and that she was comparing the two of them. He wasn’t quite sure why that rankled him, but it did.

  Mac shook his head. “Not in the same league, not even remotely. I think cheating on your spouse is reprehensible. If you commit to someone, you stay committed. If you’re going to give in to temptation, you don’t get married in the first place. Which is why I think most people shouldn’t.”

  He was so serio
us, it was hard not to believe him. Especially when he added the last sentiment. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

  “Always.” He prided himself on that. “No games—” his eyes held hers “—except interesting ones that involve bits of clothing removal at strategic times.”

  The laugh died in her throat as she looked at him. There was no denying it. She was irresistibly drawn to him and she could have sworn that somehow, the space between them on the sofa had shortened, even though she hadn’t moved a muscle.

  Suddenly aware of the very hum of the air between them, Jolene held her breath.

  Mac took the glass out of her hand and placed it on the coffee table beside his, his eyes never leaving hers. Her breath evaporated as he cupped her face in his hand. Tilting her head ever so slightly, he touched his lips to hers.

  It was like falling headlong down a spiraling tube in slow motion.

  The ache that rose up to seize her came a great deal faster.

  The next thing she knew, there was no space between them and she was the one deepening the kiss. She was the one who slanted her mouth over his over and over again, burrowing straight into the heart of the kiss.

  Her body felt as if it was on fire.

  The same needs that had risen up before on her door step that night were back and they had brought friends. Scores and scores of friends.

  Everything within her cried out for a union with this man.

  Tawdry or not in the final analysis, she knew that while it was happening, it would be spectacular. A man who could kiss you as if the end of the world was imminent couldn’t be a lousy lover. It just wasn’t possible.

  Mac hadn’t intended for it to go this fast this quickly and that was just the trouble. He had a feeling that once this was over, Jolene would hate herself for allowing it to happen. And hate him for taking advantage.

  He couldn’t let that happen, even though wanting her had just jockeyed into all top five positions on his list of wants and desires. She was making his pulse race and the air in his lungs do strange things. It was like finding himself marvelously high without having a clue as to how or when the journey had even begun.