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“I can’t imagine. She’s pitiful-looking. I swear, she wears the same scrubs every day.”
“Oh—that girl. I think she decided to make herself over for the new doc. Did you notice she cut her bangs?”
Jamie glared at the door. He’d count to twenty, then he’d leave this little jail cell whether those women were still here or not. He was feeling decidedly less considerate of their feelings.
“Ohmigod, yes. She had to have cut those bangs herself. With children’s safety scissors.”
“All right, guys, enough. You’re being mean to the poor thing,” one of the gossiping harpies cut in to defend the absent Kendry—about damned time. Jamie could tell they’d been revving up to pick her to shreds.
“She probably can’t afford a decent haircut,” the woman defending Kendry said. “She’s can’t be making more than minimum wage.”
“If I made minimum wage, I’d still work a couple hours extra, cut a coupon from the Sunday paper and at least get my hair done at one of those walk-in places. I think she just doesn’t care.”
“If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have cut her bangs at all, would she?”
“Well, of course she cares about Dr. MacDowell. You can’t be female and not notice him. Could you imagine them together, though? It’d be like a Greek god and a street urchin in bed.”
“You’re so mean!”
The nurse made it sound like a compliment.
“Maybe she turns him on, and we can’t see why.”
Listening to this crap was getting plain painful. True, Kendry didn’t turn him on. But she didn’t look like a street urchin, for God’s sake. She wasn’t homely. Who gave a damn about her haircut?
“Men have stooped lower. Look at some of the prostitutes we get in the E.R.—I can’t believe men pay money to sleep with them. I’d say our soldier-doctor is on a mission to take that orderly on a pity date. Maybe an army buddy dared him to—”
“Yes. Maybe that’s why he always looks so angry at the world. He got dared into giving that girl a mercy f—”
The nurses shrieked, literally shrieked, hysterically.
They were comparing Kendry, baby Sam’s Kendry, to a prostitute. Jamie used the toe of his cowboy boot to give the door a nudge. It opened slowly as he remained where he was, leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest.
“Oh, crap,” said the nurse who saw him first. The other two audibly sucked in their breaths.
“Wanna know why I look so angry all the time, ladies?” Jamie asked in a deliberate, deadly serious drawl.
“Dr. MacDowell, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you—”
“I’m angry that three nurses are taking a break at the same time. That leaves patients lying out there, unattended.”
“Yes, sir. We’re done now.”
Jamie wasn’t done with them, however. “I’ll tell you what else makes me angry. I’m angry that you’d take time away from patients in order to do nothing except trash a fellow employee at this hospital.”
No one said a word to that.
“Her name is Kendry, and she’s brilliant with sick kids. Next time you admit a child to the pediatric ward from the E.R., you watch real close if she’s the orderly who comes to take them to their room. Watch and learn something about patient care, because she’s one of the best we have at West Central. But right now, there are people out there who came to this E.R. for help, so put down your damned coffees and go.”
“Sorry.”
“Bye.”
Jamie didn’t move for a moment longer. He was angry, yes. Angry as hell, but also something else, some knot in his chest that made him want to punish something.
Himself.
That was it, damn it, he was mad at himself. For exactly what, he didn’t know, but it had something to do with Kendry, with the woman his son loved.
Chapter Five
“Is this seat taken?”
The bass voice sounded soothing in the cacophony of the cafeteria lunch rush. It never failed to send a pleasant shiver down Kendry’s back.
“Hi, Dr. MacDowell.”
“It’s Jamie.”
“Hi, Jamie.”
The exchange was becoming a little tradition between them. Kendry didn’t want to make more of it than it was, but it was nice to have their own private routine, wasn’t it?
She smiled at Dr. MacDowell as he sat across from her.
“Soup again?” he asked.
Kendry willed herself to look nonchalant. For whatever reason, Jamie treated her like an equal. Like she had brains. Like her opinions mattered. When she spent all day being ordered to change linens and fetch ice, it was a relief to have a man like him to talk to. She wasn’t going to shatter the illusion of equality with Jamie by confessing that soup was all she could afford. “Tomato’s my favorite. I always get soup when it’s tomato.”
“I’ll have to try it sometime.”
The words were bland, ordinary, but he was looking at her...differently.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. Speaking used up air, naturally, so she breathed in again and caught a hint of his aftershave, that delicious, woodsy scent she’d noticed since the first time he’d sat with her.
She snatched a napkin in the nick of time as she turned away and sneezed. At least she’d cut her bangs so she didn’t have to push them out of her eyes every time.
“You know,” he said, “if I were a doctor, I’d probably give you a diagnosis of allergic rhinitis.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled so he’d know she wasn’t upset. “I don’t think I need to pay for an office visit to find that out.”
“I take it that none of the over-the-counter pills are working for you. Do you need a prescription antihistamine?”
“No.” Why was he asking about her personal health? They usually talked about other patients’ health, not hers.
“I’ll write you one.” He already had a script pad out of his pocket and was writing away.
“Please, don’t bother.” She’d never be able to afford it, but she couldn’t tell him something so embarrassing.
“It’s no problem.” He tore off the paper and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She reluctantly took the prescription. Why was he looking at her so strangely? Today’s lunch was just...off.
She looked at the paper, so she’d stop trying to analyze his expression. His handwriting was amazingly legible for a doctor, maybe because he wrote in large letters, using up the blank space, filling it with dark ink. No faint scribbles for her to squint at hopelessly. She only had to narrow her eyes a tiny bit to read his writing without her glasses.
This time, when she looked back up at him, he dropped his gaze to his plate. As if she’d caught him in the middle of—something.
“Did you hear something bad today?” she asked.
He looked up at her in surprise, as if she’d guessed right, but he didn’t say anything.
“Myrna’s not back in dialysis, is she? Or David?”
“No.”
She hesitated before a burning need to know made her ask, “It’s not about Sam, is it?” Her heart would break if anything happened to that little guy. Please let it not be something about Sam.
“No, nothing like that.” To her surprise, he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for asking.”
She took her hand off the table, grabbed another napkin, turned her head and blew her nose again. It would be nice to sit through a meal with the man without a runny nose.
Because then he’d notice how beautiful you are?
No, but it would be easier to pretend he did.
“I was wondering,” Jamie said, “did you get your hair cut?”
“My—what?”
“Did you change your hair?”
“I trimmed my bangs a couple days ago. They were getting in my eyes.” She hated this feeling, like she was missing a piece of a puzzle somewhere.
“You look nice.”
Good lord, what was going on? Kendry felt herself turn ten shades of red.
Dr. MacDowell nodded once, like that was the end of that subject. Then he picked up his sandwich. “Have you met our new heart patient, little guy named Eric Raines? He came through the E.R. yesterday with a very unusual cardiac rhythm.”
Thank goodness the conversation was going back on its normal track. They usually discussed any kids who had been admitted to the pediatric ward from the emergency room. Dr. MacDowell didn’t mind teaching her about all kinds of medical conditions, and she found each one more fascinating than the last. She liked to think he was giving her a mini-internship, a taste of what her final year of nursing school would be like.
“His heart sounds were normal,” he said, “but his—”
“Is this seat taken?” asked another deep voice. Without waiting for an answer, a tall man pulled out one of the empty chairs and sat, then leaned his arms on the table. He didn’t wear a white lab coat like Jamie, just slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves cuffed back, but the stethoscope slung around his neck screamed “doctor.” He looked from Jamie to Kendry, who summoned a neutral, polite smile.
“Have a seat,” Jamie suggested drily.
“Done.”
“Kendry, this is my brother Quinn.”
She’d already guess that much. The two MacDowell brothers were equally handsome and equally single. Before Jamie had arrived at the hospital, his brother had been the most eligible bachelor. Now there were two bachelors, and the hospital rumor mill had twice as much to speculate about. If she hadn’t drawn enough attention to herself by having lunch with Jamie MacDowell, today’s lunch with both brothers was sure to do it.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, although she wished everyone in the cafeteria would stop looking over their shoulders at her table.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Quinn turned to Jamie. “What kind of abnormal cardiac rhythm patient did you not refer to me?”
“Pediatric. Not your specialty. Kendry does a lot of work in the pediatric ward, though.” Jamie hesitated, looked at his plate for a moment, then pinned his brother with a firm look. “Kendry is Sam’s favorite caregiver in the playroom.”
Quinn went utterly still for a second. “I see,” he said, turning toward her with much more interest than he’d shown before.
What on earth was going on?
“What do you do here at the hospital, Kendry?” He emphasized her name slightly, like he was making a point of knowing it.
“I’m an orderly.” When Quinn raised one eyebrow in unmistakable surprise, she lifted her chin and asked, “What do you do here, Dr. MacDowell?”
His lips twitched at her attempt to sound as condescending as he did. “Mostly, I’m in the cath lab, trying to open up coronary arteries.”
“Mostly, he’s at his plush private practice,” Jamie corrected him. “He only comes to the hospital when he has to do some real work.”
“How long have you been an orderly, Kendry?”
She tried to mask her surprise at the question. What was it with MacDowell men asking about her employment background?
“I’m getting close to the six-month mark.” And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Why do you ask?”
“Is this your dream job? Or do you have higher aspirations?”
“Quinn, shut up,” Jamie said.
Apparently, Dr. Quinn MacDowell thought she was after his brother. A gold digger. Seriously, did she look anything like the kind of woman who attracted rich men?
Any men?
Irritated, she felt compelled to defend herself to the older—and really, much less handsome—Dr. MacDowell.
“For now, this is the best job. I’m working to earn enough money to get my CMA certification. If the hospital has an opening, then I’ll have preferred status as an applicant because I’m already an employee here. The openings are few and far between, so I’m positioning myself to have the best shot at it.”
“Your dream job is to be a CMA?” Quinn asked.
“It’s a step in the right direction. I’m going to be a nurse. Once I’m a CMA, I’ll be able to afford classes toward my bachelor’s degree. I can be an RN eight years from now.”
Quinn was silent, studying her for a moment. “That sounds like getting your RN the hard way.”
“Sometimes that’s the only option you have.” Kendry toyed with her soup spoon, regretting the words the instant they left her mouth. No one at West Central knew she’d once tried to take the easy way, a year off to play more than work, the year she’d taken the foolish risk of dropping her car insurance. Until she paid off the cost of that accident, she’d do everything the hard way. The right way.
Quinn glanced at Jamie, who was looking at her oddly, then turned back at her. Kendry was definitely missing something.
