shook her head and shooed him away. Leaning over Nick’s body, she kept the pressure on the makeshift bandage. She inhaled the incongruous aroma of spicy cologne and antiseptic wash.
His spiky, dark lashes stirred, and she murmured, “Dr. Perfect doesn’t look so perfect now.”
NICK’S BODY ACHED ALL OVER, especially on the left side of his head, right above his ear where a lead weight pressed against his skull.
He opened one eye. A pair of shapely breasts molded by a white, lacy bra hovered above him. Had to be natural. He opened the other eye. A lock of silky, dark hair tickled his chest. Had he died and gone to heaven?
He dragged his gaze away from the alluring sight in front of him, where it collided with a pair of stormy green eyes. He’d seen those eyes shooting angry sparks earlier, before all the chaos.
Lacey. Lacey from Dr. Buonfoglio’s office. Lacey, the aspiring hospice nurse. Lacey, the master of torture.
He shifted and wrapped his fingers around her deceptively delicate wrist. “I think that’s enough pressure. I’m in danger of losing oxygen to my brain.”
She sucked in a breath as he heard someone yell, “Over here.”
Nick lifted his head. Two uniformed cops crowded the doorway while an EMT lurked behind them.
Lacey took Nick’s hand and held it against the cloth on his head. Had she used her shirt as a bandage? Maybe he could convince her to use her bra as a tourniquet.
“You have to go after him.” Grabbing her sweater from the floor, she jumped up and faced the older officer. “The man who attacked us took off down the stairwell.”
The EMTs surged through the door and plucked Lacey’s shirt from Nick’s head. He tried to sit up, but they wouldn’t allow it. Damned cocky EMTs. He preferred the topless nurse.
“Who are we looking for?” The cop pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped it open.
“A tall man.” Lacey stuffed her arms into her sweater and buttoned it up the front before holding her hand well above her own head. “Stocky build, dressed in black with a black ski mask over his face and gloves. I doubt if he left any fingerprints in here.”
“A ski mask?” The cop tapped a pencil against his notebook. “Shackleford, check it out.”
When Shackleford took off down the hallway, the other officer asked, “What happened? What’d he want?”
“I came up here from Antonio’s Deli to deliver a sandwich, and this guy and another guy were rolling around the floor fighting.” The pimply kid with an Antonio’s Deli cap askew on his head waved his arms around. “Then he pushed past me and stepped on the sandwich.”
“Officer—” she leaned forward to peer at the cop’s badge “—Bates, the man killed my boss, Dr. Buonfoglio. He’s in the back.”
Jesus. Nick’s gut constricted. He didn’t even know Dr. Buonfoglio was in the office. The fight with the masked man just took on a more sinister aspect…and a more deadly one.
At Lacey’s words, the paramedics working on Nick abandoned him and rushed to the back while Officer Bates radioed for homicide detectives. Nick took the opportunity to stagger to his feet and immediately dropped to the chair. He’d lost more blood than he’d thought.
“Okay, let’s take this from the top.” The cop’s gaze darted between Nick and Lacey, settling on Lacey. “Who are you, and what’s your name?”
“My name is Lacey Kirk, and I’m Dr. Buonfoglio’s office manager.” She smoothed her auburn hair back from her face, leaving a smudge of blood on her cheek. His or Dr. Buonfoglio’s?
As she told Officer Bates about the events leading up to the fight, her voice remained steady and calm, but her hands trembled until she clasped them in front of her.
Nick eased himself out of the chair. “You need to sit down, Lacey. Is there any water in here?”
“Don’t touch anything in the office, Doc. Homicide’s on their way and they’ll want a pristine murder site.”
Lacey’s pale face blanched further, and she swayed forward.
Nick took her arm and led her to the chair next to the one he just left. “Can I run back to my office to get her some water and a sedative?”
The officer held up his hand. “What’s your involvement? Were you in the office, too?”
“No. My office is down the hall. I was on my way back to my office after dropping off some files in the lobby. I heard Lacey screaming and ran in here.”
After Nick answered a few more questions, he jogged down the hallway to his office.
When he returned with a cup of water and a couple of sample packets of Xanax, the cop who took off after the masked intruder had returned, and the two paramedics huddled in the corner of the room ready to pounce on him.
“Is Dr. Buonfoglio dead?” He handed Lacey the paper cup and the packets. Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the water, and his nerve endings tingled in response. His adrenaline must still be pumping after that fight.
One of the paramedics nodded. “Yeah, blow to the head. He lost a lot of blood, and so did you. We need to finish with your vitals.”
“I’m all right.” He traced a fingertip along the angry red mark across the soft creamy skin of Lacey’s neck. “You should have a look at her. The guy had his arm locked around her throat when I came in.”
“I’ll check her out, and my partner can have a look at you.” The paramedic shrugged. “The guy in the back doesn’t need us. He’s ready for the coroner.”
“Do you have to be so cold? That’s my boss back there.” Lacey sniffled and pressed her hands to her cheeks.
“What are they teaching you guys in school about appropriate bedside manner these days?” Nick ran a hand down Lacey’s arm and cupped her elbow. After months of watching her whiz back and forth along the hallway and spotting her occasionally at the hospital, now that he was this close to her he had a strong urge to touch her.
She glanced up at him through wet lashes and flashed him a look of gratitude. He squeezed her elbow and allowed the paramedic to check his blood pressure.
Soon after, the office buzzed with enough cops, detectives and crime-scene personnel to populate six of those CSI shows, and more filled the hallway.
Lacey, sitting on the chair beside him, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her lashes lay like velvet crescents on her cheeks, and her brown hair with the reddish tint created a silky fan on the cushion. In fact, everything about her had the appearance of softness, until she opened her mouth. Were her sharp comments and sharper looks at the hospital due to his reputation as a player?
That reputation attracted a certain type of woman. The type of woman he always cultivated. The type of woman that represented safety.
Lacey’s eyes flew open. “How’s your head? I think you lost consciousness.
