Have Gown, Need Groom

by Rita Herron

  Hannah laughed. “I’m glad. I certainly don’t want to have to eat it.”

  Wiley picked the newspaper off the coffee table, the small-town paper full of Hartwell happenings. News of the shooting at the car lot occupied the first page, bumping Hannah’s canceled wedding and photos of her running from the church to the third.

  “I heard you took care of my salesman at the hospital today,” Wiley said.

  Hannah’s fingers tightened around her cup, the vivid images from her dream bombarding her. “Yes. Apparently he caught someone trying to steal a car.”

  Wiley nodded. “Yep. Tippins is a good man. A little rough with his sales technique, but he’s learning.”

  Great. One day maybe he’d star in one of her dad’s commercials.

  Surely he’d be out of her dreams by then.

  “I’m glad you saw him at the hospital,” Wiley continued, oblivious to her turmoil. “Odd though, he didn’t want any press about his heroics. Heard he even refused to give an interview for the paper.”

  So, maybe he didn’t like a lot of attention the way her father did. That still didn’t mean she and the man had anything in common.

  “As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about checking on him when he’s released.”

  Hannah nearly spilled her tea in her lap. “What?”

  Wiley grinned as if one of his wild brainstorms had just hit him. “Poor guy doesn’t have any family. I stopped by to see him on my way over here, but he fell asleep while I was there. And I have to go out of town tomorrow. We’re taping that early-bird ad for Thanksgiving in Atlanta. Maybe you could give Jake a ride home from the hospital.”

  Chapter Five

  Jake shifted sideways in the hospital bed, unable to get comfortable. Getting shot in the butt had complicated his life in more ways than one. He might have blown his cover if his picture had appeared in the paper, and now Wiley figured he owed him. Adding insult to injury, he’d probably be sitting on one of those silly foam doughnuts for weeks.

  The local sheriff, a tall man in his late fifties with a slight paunch, studied the statement he’d taken about the shooting. “Anything else you can tell me?”

  “That’s it. The whole thing happened in a matter of minutes.” Jake glanced out the window at the countryside, frowning at the colorful array of fall leaves twirling in the wind. He’d have to take a few days off to recover, meaning he’d be staying in this little town even longer. He didn’t like to stay in one place for very long, the very reason he’d opted to join the special Atlanta task force that placed undercover detectives in various hotbeds of crime. Not that sleepy little Sugar Hill, Georgia, was a hotbed of crime, but recently the suspicions about the car-theft ring revolved around the town. Stolen cars had definitely been moved through Wiley’s lots.

  “Did you question the kid?” Jake asked. “Find out what caused the punk to do something so stupid?” He considered revealing his identity to the sheriff, but decided to hold off.

  Sheriff Walker shook his head in disgust. “Bunch of his buddies dared him to take the car for a joyride. Guess he freaked when you nabbed him, so he shot you.”

  “Stupid kid,” Jake said, remembering how dumb he’d been at the same age.

  “Got the gun from his dad’s drawer at home.” Walker made a clicking sound with his cheek. “His parents are pretty upset. They’re basically good people. Maybe a little jail time will do him good.”

  Jake frowned. Serving time could go either way—harden the boy to crime and add another dark layer to his attitude or make him want to turn things around. Unfortunately, Jake had bigger fish to fry.

  The sheriff headed to the door. “Oh, by the way, my daughter recently got her license. I think I’ll stop by Wacky Wiley’s. Maybe you can cut me a deal on a good used car.” A chuckle reverberated from his chest. “Last year he had all his salesmen dress up like elves for the Christmas specials. Better get yourself healed so you can fit into those little green tights.”

  The man’s booming laughter echoed off the walls as he left the room. Jake rolled his eyes, praying he’d finish his investigation before Christmas. Every job had its limits—he’d run through a jungle full of snakes, walk through fire, risk his life to keep the streets safe, but there was no way in hell he’d put on a silly elf suit.

  No sooner had the sheriff left, than Jake’s partner and friend, Trevor Muldoon, loped in, grinning. Although Muldoon was in his fifties, Jake admired the older man and his commitment to his job. He was also one of the few cops he’d known who’d been able to keep a family. Muldoon enjoyed dispensing advice, constantly urged Jake to search for a good woman, and bragged about the difference his marriage had made in his life. So far, Jake hadn’t bought any of the malarkey. “Hey, man, how’s the b—”

  “Don’t say it,” Jake warned, knowing the older man intended to make him the butt of his jokes.

  Muldoon chuckled. “The chief wanted me to find out if this shooting had anything to do with the investigation.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jake said. “The local sheriff was just here.”

  “Yeah, I saw him take off. I hid in the hall, didn’t want anyone to see me.”

  Jake nodded. “Sheriff claimed the punk kid who shot me tried to steal the car on a dare. He’s too amateurish to be the mastermind we’re looking for. I need more time.”

  “We’ll follow up on the kid. Chief wants you to tie this thing up before Christmas,” Trevor said. “Says he’ll have to pull you back in soon.”

  “I’ll have the case solved by then,” Jake said. He’d step up the investigation, use every available clue and possible resource he had.

  The intercom buzzed in the hallway and a voice paged Dr. Hartwell.

  Trevor frowned at the announcement. “Your doctor?”

  “Yeah. You’d better get out of here, man.”

  “Keep me posted.” Trevor slipped out the door, and Jake leaned back against the pillow. He’d been wondering where the elusive beautiful doctor had been this morning. Wiley had phoned first thing to tell him he’d enlisted Hannah to drive him home. Jake had considered telling Wiley to forget it, that he’d take a cab, but then he’d decided why not? The sooner he got to know the doc the better.

  HANNAH WAS on her way to answer the page when she saw a man slip from Jake Tippin’s room. Hmm, even though he didn’t have family, at least he had a visitor. Not one of the salesmen from Wiley’s, though. And how odd—she’d noticed the same man earlier—he’d been lurking in the hall. When the sheriff had left Jake’s room, the man had slipped behind a medicine cart until the lawman had disappeared. Who was the stranger, and why wouldn’t he want Sheriff Walker to see him?

  The intercom announced her name again, and she shook off the uneasiness, knowing bigger problems awaited her. Having just completed an early-morning rotation in the ER, she was exhausted, but the minute she’d heard the page, adrenaline had kicked in. Adrenaline spurred by nerves. Her stomach clenched as she spotted Seth’s parents enter the chief of staff’s office ahead of her.

  The Broadhursts were prominent retired physicians who’d donated scads of money to the hospital. They had power, influence and the backing of the board.

  And they most likely hated her.

  Why had she been asked to meet them in the chief’s office? Had they listened to the apology she’d left on their answering machine at home and decided to confront her?

  She twisted her fingers together as she stared at the closed door. They couldn’t have her fired for what she’d done to their son, but they could make her life hell, could create dissension, could make her want to leave.

  Maybe she should simply ask for a transfer. She could move to Atlanta, complete her residency at another hospital, make the situation less awkward for everyone. She’d already heard some nasty rumors floating around—she’d been having an affair, had rubbed it in Seth’s face when she dumped him. In a small town like Sugar Hill where everyone knew everyone else, the gossip about her jilting Seth wou
ld linger for months.

  Striving for courage, she raised her hand and knocked. Dr. Porter’s curt voice invited her inside. Seconds later, she took a seat in a wing chair facing the chief of staff. Seth’s parents situated themselves on the adjacent navy loveseat. To her surprise, Seth stood on the far side, leaning against the wall, looking grim.

  “You’re probably wondering why I asked you join us,” Dr. Porter said.

  “I think I have an idea,” Hannah said, deciding to take a direct route. At six-three, the elderly gray-haired Dr. Porter was impressive and intimidating, not only because of his size, but because he had practiced medicine himself for years, had a reputation as a renowned surgeon, and contributed regularly to a major medical research journal. When his wife had died the year before, he’d left a prominent Boston facility to manage this small-town hospital, saying he needed less pressure.

  Hannah certainly hadn’t helped his situation any.

  Seth’s mother, an attractive brunette in her early fifties, stared blankly at her while her husband’s scowl reflected his displeasure.

  “I know I owe you all an apology,” Hannah said, praying she sounded sincere. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed the hospital by my actions. And I’m really sorry for the way I handled things yesterday with Seth.” She gave Seth a wary smile.

  Seth nodded, his gaze oddly understanding.

  Seth’s mother’s mouth tightened into a thin line. His father arched a bushy brow.

  She directed her gaze at his parents. “I never meant to hurt Seth, I hope you two believe that. Seth is really a wonderful guy.”

  “And an important part of the hospital,” Dr. Porter pointed out.

  “Yes,” Hannah said, hearing the unspoken message, More important than a young resident. “He’s very well respected here and I still would like to think of him as a friend. I honestly believe that I did the right thing, though, by canceling the wedding. I think one day Seth will agree.”

  His arched brow said he wasn’t sure, but he was contemplating what she’d said.

  “You couldn’t have told my son this before his wedding day?” Mrs. Broadhurst asked with disapproval.

  “Or maybe like your father, you simply enjoy public displays?” Mr. Broadhurst snapped.

  Hannah winced at the comment about her father, half wanting to defend him, the other half wanting to scream that she hated public displays. Surprisingly, Seth spoke, saving her from commenting.

  “Mother, Dad, that’s enough,” Seth said. “What happened between Hannah and myself is our business. Not yours.”

  Mrs. Broadhurst bristled while Mr. Broadhurst’s nostrils flared.

  Hannah searched for a plausible, rational approach to winning their understanding, but she couldn’t think of one. She remembered the crazy dream, the legend—no, she could not tell them about the legend. They would think she’d lost her mind.

  Which, of course, she was beginning to think also. Especially considering how composed and levelheaded Seth appeared in the aftermath of their canceled wedding.

  Dr. Porter folded his hands on his desk and cleared his throat, cutting off her thoughts. “That brings me to the reason I asked you all to meet here. The personal lives of my staff are really of no consequence to me, Dr. Hartwell, except where their behavior affects the ethical code and the respect of other professionals. I must admit I’ve heard some gossip about you in the halls, and I’ve seen the newspaper photos.”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Porter. I had no idea the reporters would mention the hospital.”

  “I’m concerned that this debacle might affect both your working relationships and the morale at the hospital.”

  Hannah chewed on her bottom lip. “I can assure you that I’ll remain professional. I know I can work with Seth…” The Broadhursts shot her a stern look, “…um, with Dr. Broadhurst.”

  “I certainly have no problem with Dr. Hartwell,” Seth said amicably.

  Dr. Porter stood as if dismissing them. “Well, I, for one, thank you for your honesty, Dr. Hartwell. And I will hold you to your word. If not…”

  Hannah nodded as he let the sentence trail off, wincing at his silent warning.

  Seth’s parents shook Dr. Porter’s hand, Hannah apologized to them again, and the Broadhursts left with a brief thanks, although Hannah sensed they weren’t totally satisfied. Seth’s gaze caught hers, an awkwardness between them that she hated. He forced a small smile for which she would forever be grateful. Maybe they could remain friends. Maybe he would recommend a good shrink….

  When the door had closed behind them, the chief of staff caught her hand. “Dr. Hartwell, you are aware how much the Broadhursts’ contributions mean to this hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m asking you to do everything you can to rectify your relationship with them. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Hannah’s stomach plummeted. She would do everything she could to smooth things over with the wealthy couple, except marry Seth. With a heavy heart, she slipped out the door to follow through on the promise she’d made to her father the night before.

  She was going to find Jake Tippins, the man who had virtually seeped unwanted into her dreams and caused her to go crazy for a day and drive him home. And she’d have to do it without letting the man know that she’d seen him naked in her dreams. And that he was the very reason she’d called off her wedding.

  JAKE RUBBED his hand over his eyes, trying to block images from his latest dream. After Trevor had left, he’d dozed off, but instead of having another nightmare about his childhood he’d had erotic dreams of sleeping with a blond vixen—Hannah Hartwell.

  She’d been naked and hot and writhing beneath him.

  Boy, he was in trouble.

  As if temptation had his number, the good doctor walked through the door. “Hi, Mr. Tippins, how are you feeling today?”

  “Like I’ve been to hell and back.”

  Dr. Hartwell lifted a narrow blond brow. “You don’t mince words, do you, Mr. Tippins?”

  “No reason to,” he said. “What you see is what you get.” Except for the fact that he wasn’t a car salesman, he was a cop. And that he could lie at the drop of a hat.

  And he’d like to see the slender curves that lay beneath that lab coat.

  Oh, hell…he wasn’t handling this well at all.

  “Are you ready to go home?”

  “Yeah.” He indicated the backless hospital gown. “Just let me grab my luggage.”

  A soft chuckle escaped her as she tossed a paper bag at him. “Sorry, no suitcase, but I did pick up a pair of sweats for you to wear home.”

  He opened the bag and peered inside at the shapeless black drawstring pants. “Thanks, Doc.”

  She blushed. Actually blushed. Had he ever seen a woman look so innocent and so wanton at the same time? “I didn’t know your size and figured sweats would be more comfortable with the bandage.”

  Heat climbed his neck. “Yeah, well, this is great. Not that I haven’t enjoyed giving all the nurses a thrill with this hospital gown, but I don’t want to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

  The door opened and Wiley poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, Tippins, how’re you doing?”

  “Fine,” Jake said.

  “Can I see you a minute, Hannah?” Wiley asked.

  “I thought you were out of town.”

  “I’m on my way, just running a little late,” Wiley said.

  Jake noticed Hannah’s shoulders tense. She told Jake she’d be right back, then disappeared into the hallway.

  Curious, Jake awkwardly climbed from the bed, dragging the gown together in the back as he hobbled over to the doorway. He peered through the door crack and saw Hannah frowning at her father. They appeared to be arguing. He tried to read their lips and thought he saw Hannah say something about the car business, that she didn’t want his money. Finally Hannah slipped an envelope into her pocket with a frown. His suspicions mounted. Hannah sometimes helped Wiley
with the books; was he paying her to be an accessory to a crime?

  Wiley squeezed Hannah’s arm and she nodded stiffly, jammed her hands in her lab-jacket pocket, then strode toward Jake’s room. He scrambled back to the bed, bumped into the lunch tray and nearly broke his toe. Biting back a cry of pain, he struggled to yank on the sweatpants, but fell against the bed, sending his backside into a painful spasm.

  A friendly, professional smile curved Hannah’s luscious lips when she walked in, and Jake clenched his jaw to hide his misery. He must look ridiculous with his pants around his ankles.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, indicating his state of undress. “Do you need help?”

  He grinned. “Doc, I’ve never had a woman offer to help me get dressed before.”

  She simply rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get a wheelchair.”

  When she slipped out the door, he chuckled at the blush that had stained her cheeks and kicked off the sweats. Digging in the bag, he found a pair of plain blue plaid cotton boxers from a discount store and pulled them on. They bagged a little on the sides, and he wondered if she’d bought them extra large because of the stitches. Had she bought underwear for her fiancé? Something silky or some of those bikini G-string things?

  Several minutes later, Hannah Hartwell appeared at the door with a wheelchair. “Ready to go?”

  Jake nodded and limped awkwardly across the room, grateful he could stand. He hated feeling weak and powerless beside her, hated that he had to lean on Hannah to situate himself in the chair. She smiled, handed him a paper bag with his personal items in it, and pushed him through the hallway. Two nurses watched from their station, a tall yuppie-looking doctor eyeing them with interest.

  “Since when are you escorting patients out the door, Hannah? Are we short on volunteers or nurses today?”

  Hannah’s smile seemed strained when she turned to look at him. “No, Seth, this is the man who got shot capturing that thief at my father’s car lot. Dad asked me to drive him home.”