2
“Congratulations, Faith Logan. You’re the lucky winner of a weekend in New York with Irvin Freeman!”
Faith jerked her cell phone away from her face, frowning at the unfamiliar number on the screen. This had to be a joke. Her eyes darted to the two other nurses sitting around the nurses’ station. Neither appeared to be concealing a smile. There were no covert glances her way to see if they’d duped her with some elaborate prank. She looked up and down the hall, but as usual for a Wednesday in Laurel County, South Carolina, the labor-and-delivery ward of the hospital wasn’t very busy. Only one mother who’d had a baby earlier that day was walking down the hall. Dorothy, the older nurse, even stood and left the station to check on the mother, instead of sticking around to hear if Faith fell for the joke.
She put the phone back to her ear. “Excuse me?”
“You heard correctly,” said the overly bright voice on the other end. “You won the grand prize in the contest held by Starting Over, Irvin Freeman’s foundation to raise alcohol awareness. Out of the thousands of entries accompanying donations to the foundation, your name was drawn. You are the lucky woman chosen to spend a fabulous, all-expenses-paid weekend in New York City with Irvin Freeman. Your prize includes a makeover, and you will be Irvin’s date for the premiere of his new movie, Running from Murder!”
The woman’s voice rose with each word until she sounded like a speaker on the stage at a “gee, life is great” high school prom.
“Is this a joke? I’m at work, and I really don’t have time for jokes.”
There was a pause before the voice continued in its prom-queen tone. “This is no joke, Ms. Logan. Don’t you remember entering online?”
Faith frowned and tried to remember entering a contest. All her money went to her parents’ medical bills and household expenses. She didn’t have extra money to donate to the foundation or extra time to enter a contest.
Except for that one time...
She spun around to glare at the nurse closest to her. Marie, her best friend since she’d moved home two years ago and the person who’d helped her land the job at Laurel County Hospital, flipped through a magazine. Faith nudged Marie with her foot. When Marie looked up, she nailed her with a “this is your fault” look. She’d known it was a bad idea when Marie urged her to enter. At the time it had seemed like a good idea to contribute a few dollars to a worthy cause. Never in a gazillion years had she expected her name to be chosen.
Marie held out her hands. “What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering Marie, Faith responded to the woman on the phone. “Yeah, I remember entering that contest. I just didn’t expect to win. What weekend is that? I don’t even know if I can go to New York.”
Marie’s dark eyes widened, and she jumped from the chair to bounce on the balls of her feet next to Faith. Even without her Tweety Bird scrubs, Marie would look like a woman far younger than her thirty-three years. Her pixie cut and always-smiling features in a dark brown heart-shaped face made her instantly likable.
“Can’t go?” The voice lost some of its peppiness. “Ms. Logan, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. You will be the envy of all women. A five-star hotel near Times Square...”
Faith tuned out as the caller went through all of the reasons—some of them valid—why she should go. Excitement tickled her insides, and she felt the urge to bounce around like Marie. But the cold, hard reality of her life tamped it down. Reality had smacked her in the face when she’d given up her fantastic job, lost what she’d thought was the guy she’d one day marry and moved from Houston back home to take care of her parents.
She wasn’t bitter—that particular emotion was a drain on energy she couldn’t afford to waste. She’d give it all up again if she had to. But going out of town right now was out of the question. Her mind raced with all the reasons this wouldn’t work: Who would watch her parents while she was gone? What if it was a weekend she was scheduled to work? All of her leave was used up from taking her mama to doctors’ appointments. What would she wear? Her “new” clothes were two years old and were the complete opposite of stylish or trendy. Unless scrub chic suddenly became the fashion rage.
Then there was the biggest reason not to go. Irvin Freeman: dark eyes, mahogany skin and a swagger that would put Shaft to shame, topped off with a British accent. The man oozed sex with every breath he took, and he probably expected the winner of this thing to fall into a gooey puddle of estrogen at his feet.
“I appreciate the offer.” Faith cut in on the prom queen’s stream of reasons why she should be falling over herself to get to New York. “But I’m not sure—”
Marie snatched the phone out of Faith’s
