rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_95adc553-1fca-5f9b-934a-f3c91cea4d47">CHAPTER TWO
WHAT WAS HE doing here?
He wasn’t sure. Respiratory Therapy was two floors above where his office was located. Part of his job was in the hospital itself, but he had to be ready to leave for the luxury hotel across the street at a second’s notice. Or one of its sister hotels, which were sprinkled around the city.
The hospital had partnered with the swanky investment group, and, honestly, it suited him perfectly. He’d never liked being trapped in the sterile confines of a hospital. Too many bad memories. When his life had taken a turn for the worse, Kaleb had had to endure the pitying glances of colleagues and nursing staff until the bitter end, when his wife—also a nurse—had had an affair with another doctor. It had been the final tragic straw in a marriage that had been spiraling downhill.
So why was he walking across the floor to see a woman who had caught his attention in the strangest of ways? Maybe because he didn’t quite believe the surreal experience had actually happened. And because the image of the woman lounging around in something akin to a slinky black wet suit had haunted his dreams for the past two nights. And then her mention of a catsuit. He’d had to look up what that was. And while he was pretty sure some of the images hadn’t been what Madeleine meant by the term, he would have loved to have been there when she stripped herself down to it.
He was here to assure himself that the Madeleine he was acquainted with was indeed the cool, aloof woman he’d known before that asthma attack. And to make sure she really was okay. She’d acted shaken the whole time he’d been in her apartment, and if her sister hadn’t been on her way home, he might have insisted she get checked out.
Arriving in front of the door of her office, he hesitated, wondering if he should turn around and head back to the safety of his own corner of the hospital. But he was here now. And if he left now, the nurse he’d asked about her whereabouts was bound to ask Madeleine if he’d found her.
And then she—and the other nurse—would wonder why he’d left without seeing her. Better to just go through with it.
He knocked.
“Yes? Come in.” The soft voice from two nights ago was now infused with a crispness that Kaleb definitely recognized from other chance meetings, where she’d given him a clipped “hello” that had been anything but friendly.
Even then, though, their interactions had intrigued him. She’d been indifferent to his presence, no sign of the half invitations he’d got from a few of the other single women in the hospital. Curiosity had had him trying to break through that reserve whenever he saw her. But he’d never glimpsed the slightest chink in her armor.
Until her asthma attack.
He opened the door and stepped through it. She wasn’t with a patient. Instead she sat at a desk with two simple chairs in front of it. The work surface was surprisingly devoid of any clutter, as was the room itself, giving off an almost austere vibe. Her fingers rested on the keyboard of a laptop, and a framed picture, its back turned to him, sat on the right-hand corner.
If he were smart, he’d toss a quick question about her health and leave. But he didn’t. And the slight widening of her eyes as she looked up told him that he was the last person she’d expected to see that morning.
They were even, then. Because she’d been the last person he’d expected to see beneath that cat costume at the convention.
“Did your sister make it to your place okay the other night?”
Her eyes shifted from his before coming back again. “Oh...um, yes, thank you. I appreciated your help at the hotel.”
“Just doing my job.”
And had he just been doing his job when he’d driven her home and installed himself on her couch with her cat? Hell, no. He’d wanted to be there.
He’d wanted to stay, actually. Which was crazy.
“Of course you were. But I’m still glad you happened to be there.”
Damn. He’d sounded like an ass without meaning to. “I came by to make sure you’re okay. No lasting problems from the asthma attack?”
“None.” She smiled, and a slight warmth infused it. “I’m a pulmonologist. I’ve given myself the all clear to return to work.”
He smiled back. “Is that why you went into pulmonary medicine? Your asthma?”
“No.” She hesitated. “That was because of my younger sister. She had cystic fibrosis. She died two years ago.”
His insides tightened at the sadness in her eyes.
Kaleb wasn’t the only one who’d known loss—who’d had someone special succumb to disease. No one ever expected it to happen to them, though. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We miss her terribly, but we were so lucky to have had her with us as long as we did. Patricia was sweet and funny, and we loved her very much.” Her hands clasped on her desk. “Roxy and I were both tested to see if we’re carriers of the disease. Thank God we’re not.”
Carriers. Pain wrenched through his gut.
At least she and Roxy had lucked out.
Maddy reached for the picture and angled it a little more toward her. A photo of her dead sister?
Trying to erase the whole subject of genetic testing from his head, he threw out the first question that came to mind. “Are your parents still living?”
She motioned to one of the chairs. “My mom is. My dad died in a tractor accident on their farm in Nebraska a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry again. Is your mom still working the farm?”
“She has people who do that for her.” She turned around and retrieved a carafe on the credenza behind her desk. “I can finally offer you that cup of coffee, if you still want one?”
If she was offering, she must not be in too much of a hurry to get rid of him. He rounded one of the chairs and settled into it, not quite sure why he was in such a hurry to stay. “Only if you’re having a cup as well.”
“I am.” Standing, she poured coffee into two plain white mugs and handed him one. “It should still be hot. As for the sweet...” She pushed a sugar bowl across the desk.
So she remembered his words. He hadn’t been himself that night. Then again, he hadn’t been in a beautiful woman’s home in quite a while either. His encounters tended to happen at hotels or at his place. The leaving was too awkward otherwise. His instinct was to make his exit as soon as the act was over. And that didn’t pose as much of a problem when it was at his apartment. Maybe because it was his territory and there was no need to try to choose a time frame. He left that up to the woman. As long as she left. So far, it hadn’t been an issue. The women he chose to spend time with were just as anxious to keep things simple and fluid. It was easier that way for both of them.
He spooned a teaspoon of sugar into his cup and stirred it, ignoring the familiar pang that occurred whenever he thought too much about the past. About his part in the failure of his marriage.
“What
