you really do want to come! Dr. Fenton is the tall Adonis with the killer smile. Last week he stopped Lauren in the cafeteria and asked who the gorgeous red-haired oncology nurse was.”
“Maybe he wanted to report me for taking too many catsup packets in the lunch line.”
“Nope. He told Lauren he saw you observing one of Dr. Wilder’s mastectomies. Said he was impressed with your commitment to knowledge, or something like that.”
Jacquelyn snorted softly. “Yeah, right. They’re all looking for a woman who’s committed to them. If he wanted a good nurse, he wouldn’t care what I looked like, but he’s looking for a trophy wife just like the others. A little missus to sit in his elegant home and host his cocktail parties.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Stacy flashed her bright smile in the mirror. “I’d be thrilled to stay home and organize a doctor’s social life. Lunching with the ladies at the country club beats the hospital cafeteria any day.” She paused once again to check her reflection in the mirror, then picked up the shopping bag into which she’d tossed her uniform. “After that call about Alicia Hubbard, I need a little cheering up. An evening of inane flirtation and senseless conversation suits me just fine. So are you coming or not?”
“Have fun without me.” Jacquelyn tossed the wet paper towels in the trash bin and leaned toward the mirror, pointing at nonexistent bags under her eyes. “See how tired I am? Dr. Blue Eyes kept slowing me down all day.”
Stacy grinned. “I didn’t think you’d notice what color his eyes were.”
“I didn’t—I mean, I don’t care what color they are.” Jacquelyn studied her mussed hair and abruptly pulled the hairpins out of what had once been a neat chignon. “He’s all wrong, and he’s too familiar with the patients. He’s like Baked Alaska—warm and crumbly on the outside, but cold as ice on the inside. With me he was cool and sarcastic, but he was practically flirting with the patients.”
“Jealous?” Stacy dimpled.
“Of course not. I just think he’s unprofessional and flippant.”
“But the patients think he’s cute and completely charming.” A thoughtful smile curved Stacy’s mouth. “I’ll admit he’s not exactly fun to work with, but patients seem to like him better than Dr. Winston. They often said he was too impatient.”
“What do patients know?” Jacquelyn shrugged, then fluffed her hair around her shoulders. “The best doctors have learned to keep a professional distance and stick to a schedule.”
“It all depends upon how you define ‘best.’” A devilish look filled Stacy’s eyes. “Well, you may not have noticed much about Dr. Martin, but he certainly noticed you.”
Jacquelyn froze, halted by the teasing tone of Stacy’s voice. “He did? How?”
Stacy’s brows lifted in accusation. “He asked why you brought Mrs. Baldovino in this morning when little Megan Johnson was the next appointment. He asked me if you had something against kids.”
Jacquelyn glared at Stacy’s reflection in the mirror. “I hope you set him straight. I like kids, and Megan’s one of my favorite patients!”
“That’s what I told him.” An indulgent glint appeared in Stacy’s eyes. “And I told him the truth—you haven’t the heart for working with the younger patients when things begin to go downhill. I told him that though you’re one of the best nurses in the hospital, that tough act of yours is just that—an act. You carry it off okay around adults, but around kids and animals you melt like a marshmallow on the grill.”
“Stacy—” Jacquelyn’s lips thinned with anger “—you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t forget, you dragged me off and made me go see the Lion King with you. You were bawling like a baby in the first five minutes of the movie.”
“It was the song. Music moves me.”
“Yeah, right.” Stacy smiled and shook her head. “‘The Circle of Life,’ remember? You couldn’t take it. Face it, Jacquelyn, you may have the patients fooled, but you can’t fool me and Lauren. We know you too well.”
“You didn’t have to say anything to Dr. Frigidaire. I hope you didn’t tell him that I cry in kids’ movies—”
“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t.” Stacy grinned and moved toward the door. “Well, I’ll miss you at the party. And since you don’t want Dr. Fenton, I’ll consider him fair game.”
“Have at him,” Jacquelyn answered, turning to follow her. “I’m going home where my very considerate, always steady Craig has promised to meet me for dinner.”
“Craig Bishop?” Stacy made a face as she pulled the heavy restroom door open. “I thought you two broke up.”
“No.” Jacquelyn caught the door. “After six months, we’re as steady as ever—or as steady as a couple can be when one of them is the world’s most ambitious entrepreneur. Craig’s the one who put the word ‘rising’ in ‘enterprising.’”
“Yeah, he’s a regular Mr. Wall Street,” Stacy quipped, leading the way out of the ladies’ room. “And about as dull as a dog biscuit.”
“Hey!” Jacquelyn lifted a brow. “Don’t knock dog biscuits—they definitely have a place in the scheme of things.” She smiled, thinking of Bailey, her year-old mastiff pup.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about your drool hound.” Stacy’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Honestly, Jackie, if you spent as much time and attention on men as you do that mutt—”
“My mastiff is no mutt,” Jacquelyn answered, waving goodbye to Gaynel at the reception desk. “And he drools only a little more than a salivating young doctor. So good night, Stacy. Have fun keeping the wolves at bay.”
A warm wind whipped through Jacquelyn’s hair as she zigzagged through the parking lot toward her car. The wide highway outside the hospital hummed with six o’clock traffic, causing her to mutter, “Please, Craig, for once in your life, leave work on time!”
Craig Bishop was extremely devoted to his custom car business and, despite herself, Jacquelyn had to smile at the memory of Stacy’s dog biscuit remark. Craig was a bit like a lovable, cuddly golden retriever. Solid, strong and responsible. Good husband material.
A blur of movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Dr. Jonah Martin standing next to a red Mustang convertible parked near her own car. With one hand he carried a battered briefcase, with the other he dug uselessly in his pocket for his car keys. Jacquelyn felt her frown deepen. She should have known Dr. Baked Alaska would drive a modest sports car—it fit the casual, nice-guy image he tried to project for his patients.
She wanted to ignore him, but if she walked by without speaking he’d realize she’d deliberately been rude—and would probably say something about it tomorrow. “Having trouble?” she called, reluctantly pausing as she passed. “Did you lose your keys?”
“No,” he answered, looking over at her. Like Stacy, he’d changed clothes, too. His gold hair moved freely now in the wind, blowing over the collar of a casual knit shirt. In baggy pants and loafers, he looked
