system?” he asked, grabbing that tidbit of information.
“Yes.”
Interesting. He would have loved to see the machine for himself, but first things first. He took a small notebook out of his pocket. “Which nurses canceled their transactions?”
She hesitated. “I really think you should get the information from hospital administration. For all we know, someone may have gotten the password of one of these nurses. They could be innocent.”
“Well, then, I’ll take a list of all the nurses who were working that day.”
Jillian looked apologetic. “The ED nurse manager, Rose Jenkins, gathered all the information together for the risk management department. I don’t have the list, you’ll have to get it from her.” His concern must have shown on her face, because she quickly added, “I’d like to help you, but I really need clearance from hospital administration. There’s usually someone on call.” His nerves tingled when her fingertips brushed against his in the process of handing the percocets back to him. “I just can’t believe this is a coincidence.”
No, he didn’t believe in coincidences either. As Jillian toyed with her pen, his two-way radio let out a squawk. His partner was no doubt trying to figure out what had happened to him.
He spoke quietly into the microphone and then stood. Jillian—no, Dr. Davis, he quickly amended—glanced up at him. “You need to go?”
“I’m afraid so.” He didn’t bother to hide the pang of regret. “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow? Are you working?”
“I’m not working but you can always reach me on my pager, I wear it twenty-four seven.” Jillian rose to her feet and handed him a slim, white business card. “Give me a few hours tomorrow morning to page the administrator on call. I’ll do my best to help you.”
“Great.” He stared at the number on the embossed card, understanding her commitment to her job was as deeply ingrained as his. Was she married? Did she have children, too? For some reason, and not just her ringless fingers, he thought not. “Thanks again, Dr. Davis.” He moved toward the door.
“Alec?” The husky way she said his name sent goose-bumps down his arms.
“Yes?” He turned toward her, steeling himself against the surge of awareness.
“Please, call me Jillian.” Her smile held a note of uncertainty.
Despite his efforts to keep his distance, warmth seeped through his chest at her request. “Pretty name, Jillian.” He couldn’t help grinning when she blushed and he slid her card into his breast pocket. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
He flashed her one last smile, before walking outside to meet his partner. The traitorous part of his body was looking forward to seeing Jillian again.
Work-related or not.
* * *
Jillian got up early as she usually did and went for a three-mile run. At least her legs seemed to be working all right, no signs of weakness there. Afterwards, she paged the hospital administrator on call. All she could do then was wait. After she showered and changed, she stood and stared at her closet, desperately searching for something to wear.
When she realized what she was doing, anticipating Alec’s phone call, she turned away from the dressy clothes and grabbed the pair of comfortable jeans paired with a casual short-sleeved T-shirt she usually wore on her days off.
She probably wouldn’t see Alec anyway, unless the hospital administrator called her back soon. Over an hour had passed and she hadn’t gotten a response yet. Likely, she wasn’t going to be able to help him after all.
Disappointed, she hoped Alec wouldn’t be upset with her. Although why she cared if he was upset or not was beyond her. It wasn’t as if she was going to see him on a regular basis or anything. Would she? Her heart gave an expectant leap until she squashed the sensation with common sense. No, of course not. Their paths wouldn’t likely cross again.
The tingling sensation returned to her fingers. She stopped in her tracks and stared accusingly at her right hand. The numbness and tingling came and went without warning. Her initial doctor’s appointment had been almost six weeks ago. The neurology specialist, Dr. Juran, had ordered a broad-spectrum lab panel, and thankfully the results had come back as normal. When her symptoms hadn’t returned right away, she’d put off scheduling her MRI scan. Until Dr. Juran had called, urging her to get it done.
She’d had the MRI yesterday. She’d called to find out the results and had been told they wouldn’t be available until Monday.
Dr. Juran had been noncommittal when she’d asked him about multiple sclerosis. Her mother had suffered from the auto-immune disorder. In the beginning, Angela Davis hadn’t been slowed down much from her disease. Yet over time she had grown weaker and weaker until finally she hadn’t been able to take care of herself. Since Jillian’s father had died of a heart attack when she’d been in her early twenties, Jillian had been left to be the sole provider of care for her mother, until Angela had finally passed away as well.
Jillian caught her lower lip between her teeth. Dr. Juran had explained MS wasn’t hereditary, so she needed to stop making herself crazy by thinking she had the same disease.
With a choppy sigh she flexed her fingers until the sensation passed. Like the last time, the symptoms didn’t bother her for long. Just enough to make her aware something was wrong.
She tore her gaze from her hand. Obsessing over what she might have wasn’t how she wanted to spend the weekend. She was lucky to have two whole days off. She needed to enjoy them.
And she would. Glancing at her watch, she tried to think of the best way to plan her day, considering all the various errands she had to run.
Maybe she should wait to leave until Alec had called.
Wait a minute, since when had she planned her life around a man?
Not since she’d been sixteen and infatuated with Steven Wade, the quarterback of the football team who hadn’t known the bookworm-school-valedictorian had been alive.
With a determined motion, Jillian swept her purse off the counter, intent on heading outside to her car. The pager at her waist vibrated and, despite herself, she grasped the unit eagerly. The number flashing across the display wasn’t the hospital’s.
As she didn’t have a personal life to speak of, the number had to be Alec’s.
Her heart leaped in her chest. She turned and walked into the kitchen, dropping her purse back on the table. Taking a steadying breath, she picked up her phone and dialed the number.
“Alec Monroe,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hi, Alec. This is Jillian, returning your call.” She cursed the butterflies mating in her stomach. What in the world was wrong with her?
“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” His deep voice held a note of warmth, unless she was totally imagining it. “Would you have time to go out for lunch?”
“Lunch?” She stared at the wall calendar and the blank space
