Never Been Kissed

by Linda Turner

  It was that thought that got him through the long, lonely nights. The only problem was next time never seemed to come.

  When the alarm went off the next morning, Janey felt as if she hadn’t slept a wink. Every time she’d closed her eyes during the night, she’d seen nothing but Reilly Jones and the coldness in his eyes when he’d told her he wasn’t interested in her. When she’d finally fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, the infuriating man had followed her into her dreams.

  Cursing him, she rolled out of bed with a groan and hoped she wouldn’t have the misfortune to run into the irritating Dr. Jones today. Because if she did, she promised herself as she changed into her nurse’s uniform and left for work, she just might tell him what she thought of him. It was no more than he deserved.

  Her chin set at a determined angle, she marched into the nursing home a few minutes before seven with a look in her eye that had her co-workers lifting their brows in surprise. She never came to work with an attitude, and more than a few of her fellow nurses didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Are you okay, Janey?”

  “Has something happened to your mom?”

  “It’s not Merry and the baby, is it? When is she due?”

  Realizing she must look awful, Janey shook her head, her smile more than a little forced. “Merry’s due Christmas Day. And no, nothing’s wrong. I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I couldn’t seem to turn my brain off.”

  That wasn’t the complete truth, but she had no intention of sharing her experience with Dr. Jones with the entire nursing home staff. And that’s what would happen if she made the mistake of telling so much as a single soul. The story would spread like wildfire through every room in the nursing home within an hour.

  There was, fortunately, no time for anyone to ask her what she’d been thinking about that had kept her up all night. It was time for her shift to start, and she had work to do. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, she headed for the east wing nurses’ station and began the day just as she always did—by reading her patients’ charts to see if there’d been any change in their conditions since yesterday.

  She was well into the first chart and wondering if Mr. Drisco needed his medication changed when Cybil Greer, one of the night shift nurses, stopped to talk to her. “I guess you heard about Hannah.”

  There was only one woman there by the name of Hannah, and she was not only Janey’s patient, but one of her favorite people. And she hadn’t been doing well lately. Alarmed, she said, “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s developed pneumonia,” Cybil said grimly. “It doesn’t look good.”

  Already rising to her feet, Janey said, “Thanks for telling me. I’ll check on her right now.”

  Hannah Starks wasn’t the oldest patient on Janey’s floor, but she’d been there the longest, and there was just something about her that touched Janey’s heart. Small and frail, with eyes that still sparkled like a girl’s, she, like so many of the other women in the nursing home, had lost her husband years ago and now had to depend on the mercy of strangers to get her through the day. And she did it all without complaint.

  If she’d been in her shoes, Janey wasn’t sure she could have been as gracious. It wasn’t as if Hannah had no one to care for her. She had a son—William—who lived in Seattle, and Hannah adored him. If William’s love was as strong as his mother’s, he gave no sign of it. Over the course of the last year, he hadn’t been to see his mother a single time. Both Dan and Janey had both talked to him on several occasions, telling him how desperately his mother wanted to see him, but he still hadn’t come. And poor Hannah kept making excuses for him.

  Her heart breaking for her, Janey wasn’t surprised to find her frailer than yesterday. At eighty-two, she was as thin as a rail and had little strength to fall back on when she became ill. Still, she smiled at the sight of Janey and struggled to sit up.

  “No, you don’t need to get up!” she said quickly, hurrying across the room to help ease her back against her pillow. “You lie there and take it easy. I heard you weren’t feeling up to snuff this morning. Can I get you anything? Breakfast, maybe? Scrambled eggs? Or how about some pancakes? You name it, and I’ll get it for you.”

  If she’d said eggs Benedict, Janey would have called Ed’s diner and asked Ed to make the special dish for her, but Hannah had simple tastes and there was only one thing in life that she really wanted. Pale as the bedsheets, she smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you, dear. I’m not really hungry this morning. But I would like to see William. Once he hears that I need him, I’m sure he’ll come.”

  Her faith was unshakable, the love in her eyes heartbreaking to see as she lifted her gaze to the wall across from her bed. There, family photos covered nearly every available space. Some of the pictures were of Hannah’s parents and husband, all of whom had died years ago, but the majority were of her only child, William. Taken at all stages of life, there were pictures of him at two and eight and forty-two, with his first dog, his first girlfriend, his first wife.

  “He’s such a handsome boy,” Hannah murmured fondly. “And just like his father. Don’t you think so?”

  Her heart breaking for her, Janey wondered how the son could be anything like the husband who had adored her. Granted, William favored his father in looks, but from what Janey could see, the resemblance ended there. The only feeling he’d shown for his mother so far was cold, hard indifference.

  And she deserved better than that, Janey thought resentfully. Unlike some patients who complained about every little ache and pain, Hannah never did. She always had a kind word and a smile for everyone and seldom thought about herself, even when the arthritis that plagued her was at its most painful. And whenever she called William and asked him to come see her, she always made excuses for him when he promised to come and never did.

  And it tore Janey apart. She wanted to tell her not to torture herself this way—he wasn’t going to come. But it was thoughts of William that kept her going day in and day out, so Janey told her what she wanted to hear. “I know you’re very proud of him,” she said diplomatically. “Why don’t we get you ready for company just in case he’s able to come today?”

  Not surprisingly, Hannah beamed at the suggestion in spite of the fact that she wasn’t feeling well at all. “That’s an excellent idea! Can you help me into the pink bed jacket? It’s my favorite.”

  Janey had worked with the elderly ever since she’d graduated from college, and she’d learned a long time ago that patients felt much better when they were able to get out of bed whenever possible and dress in regular street clothes. Hannah was obviously too weak for that, but just combing her hair and brushing a little rouge on her cheeks invariably gave her a lift. And she did love her pink bed jacket.

  So Janey helped her spruce herself up a little and couldn’t help but notice how weak she had become over the course of the last week. She was eighty-two, for heaven’s sake, and could die at any time without ever seeing her son again. Didn’t he realize that? Or was he really such a bastard that he didn’t care?

  Knowing she was overstepping her bounds but not caring, Janey was determined she wasn’t going to let him get away with such neglect. So as soon as she had Hannah settled and as comfortable as she could make her, she prom ised to be back later to check on her, then hurried to the nurses’ station to look up William’s phone number in Hannah’s file.

  “You’re calling her son.”

  Glancing up from the file to see Erin, one of her co-workers, watching her with knowing eyes, she didn’t deny it. “I’m just doing what’s right. If Hawkins doesn’t like it, she can take it out of my hide later. This has gone on long enough.”

  Gloria Hawkins was their immediate supervisor and a stickler about procedure. According to the nursing home’s policy, a patient could call their loved ones as often as they liked, but a nurse only called at the instructions of a doctor. And no doctor had requested that William Starks be called…yet. Janey knew Dan would do it if
she asked him, but the mornings were his busiest time. By the time she tracked him down and he found a moment to call William, it might be too late for him to get there before she died.

  And Janey’s heart broke at the thought of Hannah dying without seeing her son one last time. So she took matters into her own hands and did what she had to do.

  Taking advantage of the fact that Gloria was on vacation, Janey slipped into her office and quickly dialed William’s home number. It was an hour earlier in Seattle, and luck was with her. He hadn’t left for work yet.

  “Mr. Starks?” she said as soon as he came on the line. “This is Janey McBride calling from Liberty Hill Nursing Home.”

  If receiving a call from the nursing home alarmed him at all, he gave no sign of it. He didn’t even ask about his mother. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

  It was his tone, more than his words, that rubbed Janey the wrong way. Cold and impatient, he sounded as if he couldn’t be bothered with her or his mother and just wanted her to state her business so he could be on about his. How, she wondered indignantly, could he possibly be the son of someone as sweet and loving as Hannah?

  “You can come and see your mother,” she said bluntly. Normally, she would have found a way to be more diplomatic, but with a man like William Starks, she didn’t think that was possible. He didn’t take hints, so she gave him the truth, plain and simple, and hoped that would get his attention. “Your mother has pneumonia, and I don’t think she has the strength left to fight it. So if you want to see her before she dies, I suggest you find a way to get to Liberty Hill as soon as possible, Mr. Starks. She doesn’t have a lot of time left.”

  For a moment she thought she’d finally gotten through to him. There was a long silence, as if he was collecting his emotions, and she almost sighed in relief. He did care! Then he said, “I can’t possibly come this week. I’m going to a convention in Hawaii. It’ll have to be sometime after that.”

  Stunned, Janey couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. His mother was dying, and he didn’t have time to see her because he’d already planned to lie on the beach and drink martinis? The nerve of the jackass! Was he really that inhuman?

  Out of patience, she snapped, “I didn’t call so we could pencil your mother’s death into your schedule when it was convenient, Mr. Starks. Personally, I don’t care what you’ve got planned. All I’m concerned with is Hannah. She wants to see you before she dies, and I don’t think that’s too much for a mother to ask of her son. Especially after all she’s done for you.”

  That was a low blow, reminding him that he owed his mother, but at this point Janey didn’t care. Not only had Hannah and her husband raised their son with every luxury, they’d paid for an Ivy League education and given him thousands of dollars to start his own business after he graduated from college. Today he owned one of the most successful computer chip firms in the country, and he owed that all to the generosity of his parents.

  And although she didn’t expect him to admit it, Janey knew she’d struck a nerve. For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then, just when she was beginning to wonder if she was wasting her time trying to get through to him, he said grimly, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He hung up without making any promises, but Janey had to believe he would be there soon. Only a monster would ignore his mother’s dying request.

  On his way to the nurses’ station to read the charts of two patients he’d been called about, Reilly heard Janey McBride’s voice coming from a nearby office and stopped in his tracks. “…pencil your mother’s death in when it was convenient, Mr. Starks. Personally, I don’t care what you’ve got planned….” He didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but the office door was open, and he could clearly hear every word. It didn’t take much intelligence to figure out that she was chewing out a patient’s son and doing a darn good job of it.

  Impressed, Reilly shouldn’t have been surprised. After last night, when she’d put him in his place in no uncertain terms, he’d realized that when push came to shove the lady had no difficulty speaking her mind. Especially when she felt an injustice was being done. And even though he’d felt the sting of her tongue last night, he couldn’t help but feel she was the kind of person you would want in your corner in a fight. She stood up for herself and others, and her patients were lucky to have her. With her to watch over them, they didn’t have to worry about getting screwed by the system or neglected by family. Janey would never let that happen.

  Unabashedly listening to the one-sided conversation, Reilly would have given his eyeteeth to hear the negligent son’s response to Janey’s scolding, but before he could even imagine that, she hung up. A split second later she stepped through the office doorway.

  Reilly was caught red-handed and there was nothing he could do but swear under his breath and try to make the best of the situation. “Good morning,” he said gruffly.

  He hadn’t forgotten that he owed her an apology, and he fully intended to give her one. But before he could explain why he was lingering in the hall listening to a private conversation, she gave him a look that could have blistered paint. “Don’t mess with me, Jones,” she growled. “I’m not in the mood.” And brushing past him as if he were of no more importance than a gnat, she strode off down the hall.

  He should have been not only insulted but furious. He was a surgeon, for God’s sake, and a damn good one at that. For no other reason than that, he was entitled to her respect as a doctor. He couldn’t think of a single nurse in L.A. who would have dared dismiss him the way she just had. Especially at work.

  But even as he tried to work up a good case of indignation, he couldn’t. His ego wasn’t so fragile that he couldn’t stand to be put in his place once in a while. Especially by a woman like Janey McBride. She might appear to be quiet and reserved, but that, he was discovering, was only a front. There was a heck of a lot more to her than met the eye.

  Staring after her as she strode down the hall without bothering to acknowledge the fact that she knew he was watching her, he had to admit that life wasn’t going to be boring with her around. And for the first time since Victoria had died, he found himself actually looking forward to what the day would hold. Humor glinting in his eyes, he smiled, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

  Chapter 4

  “Mrs. Boothe is in examining room three, Judge Perkins had to reschedule for noon, and Mary Lou Foster is on line two and needs to talk to you again. She thinks she’s having a heart attack.”

  Rattling off his schedule, Ruby Jean, his nurse, rolled her eyes as she relayed that latest message from Mary Lou Foster, and Reilly couldn’t blame her. In the short time he’d been working with Dan, he already had three conversations with Mary Lou about her heart. The first time she’d called, Reilly had mistakenly assumed that she was in serious trouble and had rushed over to her house, which was just three blocks away—only to discover that the only thing the woman was suffering from was indigestion. Later that same afternoon she’d claimed she was short of breath and needed to see him. He had, however, had time to take a look at her records by then, and it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Mary Lou was a hypochondriac. For years she’d been calling Dan’s office every time she had gas.

  Already reaching for Mrs. Boothe’s chart, Reilly said, “Squeeze the judge in where you can. If I have to miss lunch, I’ll grab a sandwich in between patients later.”

  “What about Mary Lou?” Ruby asked wryly. “She’ll just call back if you don’t talk to her, you know.”

  Muttering a curse under his breath, Reilly knew she was right. Mary Lou was nothing if not persistent. “All right,” he sighed with a grimace, rubbing at the headache that throbbed between his eyes. “Have her come in to have her blood pressure checked. If it’s okay—”

  Ruby snorted. “What do you mean…if? Do you honestly think there’s something wrong with that woman? Something,” she amended with a quick grin, “that can’t be fixed by a psychiatrist?”

  Reilly sh
ouldn’t have let her talk that way about a patient, but damned if she wasn’t right. His lips twitching, he tried and failed to frown disapprovingly. “Be that as it may, we have to check her, anyway. If she’s okay, send her home. If not, I’ll have to see her.”

  And God only knew where he’d find the time. He was already running behind because of his unexpected call to the nursing home earlier that morning, and he was booked solid with patients the rest of the day. What little time he’d saved for a break would now be used to see Judge Perkins, so there went lunch. Yesterday the same thing had happened when Cara Robinson had to be seen at noon for a bad case of strep throat. The day before that it had been Roger Fischer with a spider bite. He hadn’t had lunch since he’d started working there!

  Stepping into examining room three, where Mrs. Boothe and her sprained wrist waited patiently for him, he wondered how Dan had handled the practice by himself all these years. The workload was incredible—and that was with two doctors now on staff! How had he managed to see all his patients, do rounds at the nursing home, be on call at the hospital and still have any kind of a life? No wonder he wanted to retire. He had to be exhausted!

  You wanted to lose yourself in work, he reminded himself. Now’s your chance. Enjoy.

  In a crazy kind of way he was. The rest of the day was as busy as the morning, and he hardly had time to turn around before the next patient was being shown in, and he loved it. He hadn’t worked this hard since he was in medical school, and when he arrived home at nine o’clock that evening, he was dead on his feet. And he thanked God for that. Because last night, for the first time since Victoria had died, he’d actually fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

  And tonight she wasn’t the one he thought of when he walked in the door at the end of a very long day. Instead his gaze landed on the cake that Janey had made for him and the piece that he’d cut from it last night and eaten before going to bed. Rueful amusement glinted in his eyes. As far as cakes went, it really was a pitiful looking little thing, but he had to admit, it tasted a hell of a lot better than it looked. He’d have to remember to tell her how good it was…if she ever let him speak to her again.