by Rachel Cross
“You know you’re always welcome in Cielito.”
Asher sighed. “Tell you what, I’ll spend a few days there at the end of the month. I should be able to wrap up this promotional stuff by then. We head back into the studio after the first of the year.”
• • •
Five days after the rescue, Kate strode out of the hospital, searching her bag for her cell phone. She pulled it out and checked the face. Two missed calls from her sister.
What now?
She wished Emma would just call to chat, but lately the only time she called was when she needed something, and that something was usually money. Maybe Kate would call back after she’d slept. It would take energy to deal with her sister. Energy she didn’t have after all these twelve-hour night shifts. If nursing were this tough three years out of college, she could only imagine how hard it would be in twenty or thirty years. And it wasn’t only the effect on the rest of her life. Work had been crazy since she had come back from New York. They had been inundated with patients on her floor and the night shift was not well equipped to handle it.
Craig Billingsly, M.D., cardiothoracic surgeon, leaned against the door to her car.
She halted mid-stride, the air leaving her lungs in a whoosh. “Dr. Billingsly,” she said.
“Please, call me Craig.” His eyes twinkled. “We’re barely on hospital grounds.”
Just yesterday she passed a new billboard with his giant, handsome face promoting Cielito Community Hospital and touting his experience. The public relations department was determined to milk his impeccable credentials and reputation for excellence in surgery for all it was worth. Heart patients were coming in droves, some from hundreds of miles away.
“I was hoping you’d join me for dinner Saturday night. I checked the schedule. You’re off.”
Her palms were sweating. She took a deep breath. She’d promised Ava she’d try. And he’d been really nice and collegial last week when he sat with her in the cafeteria. His insights on nursing care for his post-op cardiac patients were invaluable. She really didn’t want to date people she worked with, but where else was she supposed to meet guys?
Take risks. This guy had to be a safer bet than Alec Sawyer.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
Shivering in the crisp morning air, she hugged herself. She hadn’t thought to change out of her scrubs or grab a jacket from her locker.
He beamed at her. “Terrific. Pick you up at six-thirty? We’ll have dinner at Chez Henri.”
“Great.”
He raised a hand and walked by her toward the hospital, the strong odor of his woodsy scent lingering in the early morning air. He sure did lather on the cologne.
Chapter 10
Her doorbell rang at six-thirty exactly. Kate stroked up the nape of her neck, checking her chignon. She hoped she was dressed appropriately for Chez Henri on a Saturday night. She smoothed the little scarlet dress over her hips, grabbed her only clutch and opened the door.
His eyes widened appreciatively. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She licked her lips nervously and noticed his gaze lingered at her mouth.
“Nice car.” Parked in the curve of the driveway was a shining ebony beast of a Mercedes.
“That thing? It’s nothing. My actual car is being serviced, so I got a loaner from the dealer.”
Locking the door to the cottage, she tottered the few steps to where he held the door of the black sedan open for her. This was a real date. She gave him points for helping her into the car. Help she could use in a tight fitting dress and four inch heels.
“So, Craig.” It felt weird to call him that. “I don’t know anything about you. Are you from around here?”
“No,” he said. “Alabama.” He steered the big black car onto the street.
She moved back in her seat to examine him. “Alabama? You don’t have an accent.”
“I got rid of it. Accents make you sound ignorant.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He glanced over at her and sighed. “Let’s get the trivial stuff out of the way, shall we? My father was a minister. Very, what’s the term he would use? Strict. My mother had eight children with him. Well, there were eight of us. My older brother drowned in a flash flood when we were kids.”
Kate stared at him, awash in mixture of horror and sympathy. “Gosh. I’m so sorry. I … I don’t know what to say. How horrible for you and your family.”
He shrugged. “It’s in the past. I got out of that podunk town as fast as I could. Never looked back. Don’t like to talk about it.” He sent her a smile, teeth gleaming in the dark car.
Kate twisted her hands together in her lap. It must be his cologne that was making her slightly nauseous. Or that harrowing childhood experience. “Still — ”
“I don’t like to talk about that stuff, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” she murmured. “So, do you like Chez Henri?”
“Eh. It’s okay, considering the limited options in town.”
“Oh, good.”
This was so much more awkward than she imagined. And she’d imagined it would be pretty damn awkward. They lucked out with a parking spot right in front. Craig helped her out of the car and held the door on their way into the restaurant. He gave his name to the man at the podium.
“It’ll be a few minutes. Would you care to wait at the bar?”
“Certainly,” Craig said.
Kate settled herself onto a barstool.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked.
Craig looked at Kate in askance.
“I’ll have a glass of Pinot Noir,” Kate said.
“ River Myst Haven?” the man asked.
“Perfect,” Kate replied.
“And you, sir?”
“A margarita, rocks, with your finest tequila. No salt,” Craig said.
Craig asked her some questions about her family. He’d seen the interview on the morning show, so he knew she’d lost her mom to cancer. He was attentive and curious as he asked about her struggles as a hybrid sister-and-mother.
Before she knew it, she was opening up to him about her desire to travel.
“Oh, Kate. Traveling outside the United States sounds wonderful, but in reality it’s a major headache. You can’t imagine the inconveniences, even in Europe. They don’t use the same currency; the outlets require converters and a host of other horrors.” He shuddered. “I loathe foreign travel.”
She deflated.
He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. Kate glanced at it. What was that on the face of it? A bright red background? He held up his index finger to her and put the phone to his ear. The maître d’ came over to let them know their table was ready. He got the finger too. The man’s lips curled into a sneer, but he waited, tapping the menus in his hand. Kate took a healthy swallow of her wine.
Craig spat out a few directives about the patient to whoever was on the other end and disconnected the call after the longest minute of Kate’s life.
“Hospital,” he said. Rising from the stool, he took her arm. “Shall we follow this gentleman?”
Muted earth tones, dim lighting and the quiet murmur of conversation gave the restaurant a romantic feel. Kate had been there before, special occasions, dinners with the Morgans, celebrations with Emma. It was a treat to go to Chez Henri.
“So, which hospital did you practice at before coming to Cielito?”
His lips twisted and he adjusted his collar. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about the past.”
Kate blinked. Geez. What was he, in witness protection?
With a forced smile, Kate steered the conversation to work. By the time their food arrived, she was seriously annoyed. The
attentive guy from the bar was gone. Craig had typed out no fewer than four text messages. He had barely put his phone down, even to order.
The food arrived and Kate waited, fork poised over her entrée, for him to put the phone away. With a sigh, he put it on the table, within arm’s reach. Squinting at the phone, she tried to make out the crimson background. Was that a photo?
During dinner he picked up the phone every time it vibrated and tapped out messages. Kate attempted, and failed, to carry the conversation. If he said, ‘now, where were we?’ one more time she would scream.
The waiter cleared the entrees.
“More wine?”
“No, thanks,” Kate answered.
“Another drink, sir?”
“Yes. And wheel the dessert cart over.” He winked at Kate. “I know how you gals love the sweets.”
Kate cringed.
He typed out yet another message on his phone.
The desert cart arrived at the table. The waiter explained each one, pointing them out with flourish. Craig craned his body over the tray. “Let’s have one of each.”
Kate’s eyes widened and she sat back. One of each? There were six desserts on the cart. And this guy was a cardiologist. “None for me, thanks.”
His eyebrows rose. “Two forks,” he said to the waiter as if she hadn’t spoken.
Kate frowned, holding both hands up. “No, really. I’m good.”
She met the waiter’s amused gaze and narrowed her eyes.
Craig waved at her with his fork. “Dig in. You ladies always say you don’t want dessert but as soon as it arrives you scarf it down,” he said, through a mouthful of cheesecake.
He pushed the chocolate torte over toward her.
She pushed it back.
“No. The meal was huge and the wine. I can’t. Really.”
Craig shrugged.
He finished the cheesecake and started on the passion fruit-mango mousse cake. She watched dumbfounded as he made short work of it, finishing in three bites.
She glanced around the restaurant.
He reached for the crème brûlée. At the rate he was shoveling in desserts, he would finish them all in short order.
“Are you on call?” Kate finally asked, nodding at the phone as he finally put down the fork to tap out yet another message.
“What? Uh, no.” He glanced up, then looked past her. His eyes lit up.
“Will you excuse me? I see Mark Cass leaving with his wife and I need to speak with him a moment.”
Kate froze. Dr. Cass? She did not want someone from the hospital to see her with Craig Billingsly. God knows what the rumor mill would do with it and there was no likelihood of second date.
Craig stood, put his cell phone down on the middle of the table with a murmured apology, and took off after Dr. Cass.
She stared at the phone. Now it was close enough to see, and she wished it weren’t. Who kept the picture of a live human heart as the background of their phone?
Gross.
The phone vibrated.
She tried not to peek, but it was too tempting.
Eyes wide, she leaned over a smidge to read the incoming text message from someone saved into his phone as ‘Kelly’.
Free 2nite?
Kate sat back. The phone vibrated again. Another incoming message popped up on the screen below the first. A photo. A photo of ‘Kelly’, in a black merry widow, holding a crop. Against the backdrop of the bloody heart. Her stomach clenched.
She chanced a look over her shoulder. From the body language of all involved, it didn’t seem like the conversation with Dr. Cass was going all that well. Arms waving, bodies rigid as they discussed something she was too far away to hear. Mrs. Cass, the only one facing her directly, appeared incensed.
The phone vibrated again. This text was from ‘Bitch’ and it said:
Stop texting me! Contact thru lawyer only.
Kate sat up straight in her chair. Bitch? His ex-wife perhaps? And who was Kelly? The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Kelly looked vaguely familiar. Was she a nurse at the hospital?
The waiter came over to see if she wanted another glass of wine.
“No, thanks.”
“Another dessert then, ma’am?”
Kate gave him a disdainful look. He smiled and glanced down at the phone on the table. Her body tensed as the waiters’ eyes widened. He glanced at Kate, then back at the phone. She felt a wave of heat rise up through her neck into her face. She averted her gaze. The man made a choked sound and strode away.
Craig reappeared at her side.
She studiously avoided looking at the phone, watching out of her peripheral vision as he slid it off the table into his hand.
Stomach in knots, Kate debated her options. Should she tell him she saw the messages? It was snooping and she didn’t want to get in a big discussion about it with him getting defensive or lying or whatever.
She took the easy way out.
“Listen, thanks so much for dinner. It was great. I, um, really appreciate it. Really. I had some reservations before, since we work together and I, I … ” She took a deep breath, “I’ve come to realize I don’t want to date someone I work with.”
What had been a polite, expectant expression morphed into surprise then anger flashed in his eyes. A nanosecond later, the anger was banked and his expression turned pleading, his large blue eyes wide, he held a hand out to her, and leaned forward.
“Kate. Don’t worry about work. They’re desperate to keep me.” His phone buzzed on the table next to him. Once, then again. He seemed oblivious.
Kate leaned back, pressing her lips together. “No, I get that. It’s just that I’m not comfortable. The gossip. I’m just, it’s not … .so, thanks for dinner.” She rose, putting her napkin on the table, grabbing her purse. She stumbled over the chair leg of a neighboring table. “Excuse me. Sorry.”
Heart racing, she pushed through the restaurant door and out onto the street. Hampered by the tight skirt and unaccustomed to high heels she teetered, breathless, up a half block before ducking into a store alcove.
Digging through her bag she found her phone and tapped on her contacts, found Ava and pressed the button.
“Ava?”
“Kate? I can barely hear you!” Ava shouted.
“Where are you?”
“Whaaat? Hold on. Let me get somewhere quieter … okay … what’s up?”
“Where are you?” Kate hissed.
“I’m at Agave. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”
“I’m coming to you; I’ll be there in ten,” Kate said, disconnecting the phone.
She peered out of the alcove. He was probably still paying the check or finishing dessert. Crossing over to the other side of the street, she hustled the four blocks to Ava’s favorite bar.
Her friend was standing by the entrance, lemon drop martini in hand when Kate walked in.
Ava stared, then gave a low wolf-whistle, handing over the drink.
Kate took one sip, then a second, then downed it while Ava watched, eyes huge.
“Whoa, girlfriend! You’re running tomorrow.”
Ava took the glass back, put it on the bar next to her and steered Kate toward the quieter of the two lounges. She parked Kate on the crimson velveteen sofa and fell onto the cushion beside her.
Ava leaned toward her. “So?”
Kate told her about the date. Now that she was away from Craig Billingsly, the whole thing seemed funny, in a horrible kind of way.
Ava drew back, shaking her head, laughing. “Oh, Kate. You sure can pick ’em. Are you sure it was a human heart?”
Kate nodded, wide-eyed. “I guess I should thank my lucky stars he wasn’t a proctologist.”
“A wh
aaa?”
“Never mind.” Kate shook her head, glumly. “Hopefully it won’t be too awkward at work. I don’t run into him much.”
“You want to stay here?” Ava checked her watch.
“Hell, no. I want a ride home.”
Ava sighed and glanced around the bar. “Not much talent here tonight, anyway. And I’m running the tent at the five-K race at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll see you after.”
Minutes later Ava pulled into her driveway. Kate reached for the door handle. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I hooked up with Alec Sawyer in New York.”
Ava stared at her in the dark car, open-mouthed. “Did you — ”
She laughed. “No. Not that. We just kissed — there may have been some groping.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I came to my senses. I realized I was playing with fire, thank God.”
“Fire? So it was good.”
The heat rose in her cheeks and Kate looked away.
“Goddamn it. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you going to see him again?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She blew out a breath. “Ava, he is so far — ”
“If you say ‘out of my league’ I’m going to throttle you. Fair warning.”
Kate rubbed a hand over her tired eyes. “Can we talk about this later?”
“No. I know you think he’s hot — ”
“Yes. He’s gorgeous. And smart and funny and sweet. And women shove their phone numbers in his pockets at airports. And he dates women who look like super-models. Heck, they probably are super-models.”
Ava reached out a hand and took Kate’s. “If you like him, you can’t hold that stuff against him.”
“I know. It doesn’t matter anyway. We were both embarrassed by what happened.”
“How’d you leave it?”
“He wanted to take it further that night. I didn’t. He was cool about it. But the flight back sure was awkward. Okay.” Kate reached across to give her friend a hug, difficult in the confines of Ava’s sub-compact car, then opened the door and stepped out.
“See you tomorrow at the run. And Kate?”
