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A Doctor-Nurse Encounter
Carol Ericson
Coming to the rescue of beautiful nurse Lacey Kirk while she interrupted a murder wasn't the encounter Dr. Nick Marino had in mind when he first set eyes on her. Now, as he held her and offered protection, he wanted to believe the attack was random. Unfortunately, the chilling death threats made it clear that it wasn't. An expert at covering up his infamous past, clues proved Lacey's attack was connected to Nick's true identity.But as much as he wanted the sexy brunette in his bed, Nick couldn't admit he was to blame for endangering her life. And experience taught him it would be far more dangerous–even fatal–to reveal his secret loyalties….
Once again, Nick came to the rescue as he wrapped his arms around her.
She inhaled his comforting scent, not expensive cologne, but pure, potent masculinity. The smell made her feel safe and protected…and incredibly aroused.
She wanted to go home with him. She’d wanted to know what it felt like for this man to take control of her body the way he’d taken control of her mind and actions for the past five hours. She’d done things that would have been unthinkable for her only hours ago. Would Nick have the same effect on her in bed?
I’m sorry.” He stroked her hair. “You’re not safe here.”
But how safe would she be with him…in his home, in his bed?
A
Doctor-Nurse Encounter
Carol Ericson
For my sister, Janice.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds, and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”
Contents
Cast of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Lacey Kirk—This nurse runs a doctor’s office with smooth efficiency, but her world is turned upside down when that doctor is murdered. Now she must depend on the secretive Dr. Marino for protection even as she risks her heart.
Dr. Nick Marino—He keeps secrets to shield his family from danger. His encounter with Lacey, a feisty nurse who demands answers, strips away his protective layers. Will Lacey still want the man she discovers beneath?
Dr. Joseph Buonfoglio—The grumpy doctor has secrets of his own, and his murder reveals them one by one, putting his employees in danger.
T.J. Paglietti—A small-time hood on the run from the mob. If the De Luca family discovers his identity before he can testify against one of their own, his life is over.
Frankie De Luca—He yearns for respect from his father and revenge for his brother—and he’s willing to kill to achieve his goals.
Petra Sorenson—She has a crush on her boss, Dr. Marino, and an insatiable need to prove she can find other men as substitutes. But her latest “substitute” has an ulterior motive.
Abby Buonfoglio—Dr. Buonfoglio’s gentle daughter has Down syndrome. Does she also hold the key to her father’s murder?
Chapter One
A person could die of asphyxiation down here. Lacey Kirk held her breath against the noxious wave of exhaust fumes that greeted her as she stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage.
The heels of her boots clipped on the cement, creating a lonely echo in the empty lot. Most of the doctors, including her boss, parked on the lower level. At this hour, the cars in the upper levels cleared out quickly, leaving gaping parking stalls in their wake.
She scooped her keys out of her purse, dropping them onto the garage floor, where they skidded underneath her Jetta. She uttered a curse.
“Hope that battery doesn’t pop out of the remote again,” she commented to no one in particular.
She crouched down and pinched her small desk key between her fingers, dragging the key chain toward her. Damn. She forgot to lock her desk after she pulled out the appointment book to check Dr. B’s appointments for tomorrow.
She stood up, sawing her bottom lip with her teeth. Normally, she wouldn’t worry about it, but she’d left the front door of the office unlocked for the deli delivery guy. She’d ordered Dr. B a sandwich before leaving for the night. Someone had to take care of the man.
Sighing, she dropped the keys back in her purse and trudged back toward the elevator. At least this would give her a chance to make sure Dr. B got his food.
As she rushed off the elevator, she almost collided with a man carrying an armful of file folders while fiddling with his BlackBerry and holding a cell phone. A few files slipped off the top of the stack and fell to the polished floor.
“Watch where you’re going.” Dr. Nick Marino’s black brows collided over his aquiline nose, and two spots of color stained his broad cheekbones before he stooped to pick up the files.
“You’re the one juggling electronic devices. Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” She dug a fist in her hip and tapped the toe of her pointed boot as the doctor straightened up, clutching the folders in his hand.
He dropped his BlackBerry into the pocket of his white coat, which flapped open, revealing his tailored shirt molded to his chest. Pec implants? His full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. Did men get collagen treatments?
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” He patted his pocket. “Multitasking.”
She rolled her eyes and pivoted toward the corner.
“Lacey, right? You work for Dr. Joseph Buonfoglio.”
“Yeah, Lacey.” She glanced over her shoulder. He knew her name? She didn’t think she was worthy of Dr. Perfect’s notice.
“I’ve seen you over at San Francisco General. You’re in the hospice/palliative nursing program, aren’t you?”
She spun around. She’d seen him at SF General, too. Pretty hard to miss a six-foot-two Adonis with groupies trailing him around the hospital. “That’s right. I’m in the hospice program. What does an internationally acclaimed cosmetic surgeon, darling of the rich and famous medical-convention rock star know about a hospice?”
He raised an eyebrow just as she stumbled around the corner.
She covered her face with her hands. Smart move, Lacey. The hunky Dr. Marino may be arrogant, but he also had connections. She giggled. Even getting kicked out of the hospice program was worth the look on his face. Well, almost.
Stepping up to the office door, she grabbed the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. She jiggled it. Had Dr. B locked the door after the food arrived? That didn’t seem likely.
She slipped her key into the lock and pushed open the door. Rustling noises echoed in the office, and the door that separated the rooms in the back from the reception area stood open. Dr. B must be eating his sandwich.
She sniffed the air. Cappicola didn’t have that heavy, metallic smell. It reminded her of the smell in the hospital…the hospital emergency room. Her heart banged against her rib cage as she crept toward the gaping door.
Placing a hand against the wall, she inched forward. She peered into Dr. B’s office and clutched the doorjamb to steady the spinning room.
Dr. B lay crumpled on the floor in front of his desk, a pool of blood soaking into the carpet under his head. The scream that barreled up from her lungs snagged in her throat, and she choked.
A large figure with a black ski mask and black gloves stepped into the hallway from the supply room. His eyes glittered through the holes in the mask, and Lacey stumbled back, banging her elbow against the wall.
The shooting pain released the tightness in her chest and she screamed as she scrambled toward the reception area and the door she’d left open. She felt the man’s body heat behind her before he yanked her hair, pulling her backward. He twisted her hair, jerking her head against his body, his garlic-scented breath bathing her cheek.
She stomped on his foot with her high heel. He grunted but tightened his grip, circling her throat with his other arm.
Rather than immobilizing her, the terror raging through her body spurred her to action. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and dangled from her arm. She shook it down farther, gathered the strap in her hand and swung back, but the blow barely grazed her captor’s hip.
She jabbed her throbbing elbow into his rib cage and had the satisfaction of hearing his muffled curse. The vise pinioning her neck loosened, and she gathered her breath and let loose with another scream that tore through her ragged throat.
“What the hell?” Dr. Marino charged through the office door, and Lacey took advantage of her assailant’s surprise as his hold on her slackened.
She wrenched out of his grasp, tumbling forward onto her hands and knees. She looked back in time to see Nick plant his fist against the man’s face. As the intruder staggered back, Nick reached forward and twisted the ski mask so that the eyeholes were no longer positioned over the man’s eyes. The man raised his gloved hands to correct his mask, desperate to keep it on, and Nick punched him in the gut.
The man grunted but kicked Nick’s midsection, sending him reeling backward and crashing into a table. Magazines scattered and a heavy lamp tipped over, the lampshade bouncing across the carpet.
“Look out. He might have a weapon.” Lacey crawled to the door and dumped out her purse, scrambling for her cell phone.
The masked man advanced on Nick, still bent over the table. Nick grabbed the base of the lamp, spun around and brought it down toward the man’s head. The blow glanced off the side of the intruder’s skull as he brought his arm up to knock the lamp back.
Lacey gripped the phone in her stiff fingers and punched in 911 just as Nick and the intruder fell to the floor next to her. Lacey flattened her body against the floor. Amazingly, the man’s ski mask still covered his face.
The 911 operator answered the phone, and Lacey shouted, “Please come right away. Someone’s been hurt. The man’s still here.” Then she gave the operator the address and disconnected.
“Who ordered the—” The deli delivery guy, a skinny teenager, gaped in the doorway, his eyes bulging out of his head as he dropped the food.
Nick paused at the intrusion, and the man reached for the heavy doorstop under the table and swung it at Nick’s head.
“Nick!” Lacey screamed and dropped the phone. The doorstop skimmed the side of Nick’s head instead of flattening his face as he jerked out of the way.
Nick collapsed, and the man with the ski mask jumped up and shoved the delivery guy out of his way. His foot smashed the bag of food on the floor as he sprinted down the hallway.
“Go after him.” Lacey dragged herself up and waved her arms at the teenager frozen against the doorjamb.
“Are you crazy?” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple resembling a golf ball. “That guy’s huge.”
Nick moaned, and Lacey hobbled over on her knees and inspected the gash on the side of his head. She shrugged out of her sweater and yanked her cotton T-shirt over her head. The delivery guy’s eyes got bigger and rounder. She folded the T-shirt into a square and pressed it against Nick’s wound, staunching the flow of blood.
She glanced over her shoulder at the speechless teenager. “Hold this bandage on his head. I have to check on my boss in the back.”
“Th-there’s someone else here?”
“Yeah, but he’s…unconscious.” Tilting her chin toward the door, she said, “Keep an eye out for the emergency response team.”
Dr. B was more than unconscious. She didn’t want to go back to his office. Judging from the amount of blood on the carpet, she doubted he could use her help now.
She returned to his office, anyway, and tiptoed toward his still form, as if afraid she’d wake him. She pressed a fist to her mouth as her gaze hitched on the gun in Dr. B’s slack hand. When did he get a gun? Didn’t do him much good today.
She could see now that the intruder, the murderer, had smashed in one side of Dr. B’s skull. A marble bookend, smeared with blood and hair, lay next to Dr. B’s body. Pressing her fingertips against his neck, she felt for a pulse. No sign of life.
What if she had stayed? Would Dr. B be alive? Would she be dead?
She brushed a tear from her cheek and tripped back to the disordered reception area.
The teen looked up. “How’s your boss?”
She 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.”
