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He walked down the corridor toward the rear of the hospital. He wasn’t prone to maudlin thoughts. In general, he was blessed with an upbeat nature.
Had to be the weather, he decided. After three years of dry, almost droughtlike winters, Southern California was finally experiencing a November that was more typical for the region. It had been monsooning off and on all month. Out of the last thirty days, eighteen had been inclement. And according to the weatherman, it didn’t look as if there was a letup in sight.
Certainly not today. Rain had been coming in like a gate crasher each time the rear doors opened all through his shift.
Stopping before the doors, Mac stood for a moment as they opened before him, just watching the sheets of rain coming down. The parking lot closest to the building looked as if it was going to be submerged any minute.
The gutters had to be clogged again, he thought.
The problem with living in an environment that typically saw rain only a few months a year, if that, was that people grew lax about things like sewer systems and gutters.
He’d heard that traffic accidents on the freeways were up, as well. People tended to want to escape the rain and drove with less caution than usual.
“Trying to cool down the rest of the hospital, Dr. Mac?” Jorge asked him.
When Mac looked at him, raising an inquiring brow at his meaning, the man nodded at the black rubber mat beneath his feet.
“You do know you gotta step off that if you want the doors to close again.”
Max laughed at the well-intentioned jibe. “Just bracing myself for the run to my car, Jorge.”
Jorge peered outside. At the far end of the lot, a car drove by sending a three-foot-high splash flying in their direction.
“Gonna get wet, braced or not,” Jorge told him philosophically.
Looking over Jorge’s shoulder, Mac saw Jolene hurrying in their direction. Preoccupied, she didn’t appear to see him. He’d made inquiries and knew that her shift was over for the evening, as well. Timing couldn’t have been better. She was carrying an umbrella in her hand.
“Truer words were never spoken.” He raised his voice slightly, getting her attention. “But if I wait for a lovely lady to come by with an umbrella, I won’t get wet at all.”
Picking up the cue, Jorge turned around and nodded a greeting just as Jolene joined them.
Jolene’s glance swept suspiciously from one man to the other. The last time two men had looked at her like that, they’d been hoping to borrow her Organic Chemistry notes in college. “What?”
Despite the rather cool interaction he’d endured earlier, Mac smiled at her. “Going home?”
Her response was guarded. She’d heard about what had happened with Tommy’s father the other day, everyone at the hospital had. And she had to admit she’d been impressed. But that still didn’t change her opinion about doctors in general and MacKenzie in particular.
“And if I am?”
Mac looked at the tan umbrella she was carrying. It matched her raincoat. “I thought you might want to do the neighborly thing and share your umbrella so I can get to my car without getting soaked.”
Though he wanted to watch, Jorge tactfully withdrew. He liked Dr. Mac, but his money was on Nurse DeLuca. As a rule, men didn’t like to be seen losing and he could relate to that.
“See you,” he said cheerfully, leaving.
“Bye,” Jolene murmured, but her attention was on the man who had designs on her umbrella—mainly, she knew, as a means to an end. Today her umbrella, tomorrow her clothes. “Number one, we don’t live in the hospital, so we’re not neighbors,” she pointed out. “And number two, it was raining this morning, how did you keep from getting wet then?”
“I didn’t.”
His smile was definitely too engaging, too disarming, she thought, annoyed. She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t easily taken in this way.
With effort, she shrugged disinterestedly. “Guess you’ll just have to get wet again.”
Mac shifted so that he was in front of her, blocking her way. The wind was coming from the opposite direction and no longer finding its way in through the opened doors. “Aren’t you up for a good deed, Nurse Frosty?”
The look she gave him could have frozen a bonfire. “I already gave at the office.”
Moving around him, she opened her umbrella and took a step out. She could feel him looking at her with eyes that were soft and soulful. Annoyed with herself, she relented and turned around.
“Oh, all right, c’mon,” she bit off. When he was quick to join her, she discovered that there wasn’t as much room beneath her oversize umbrella as she’d thought. He was standing much too close. “Where’s your car?”
He pointed off into the distance, beyond the security guard’s post. “In the other lot.”
Jolene sighed. It figured. “Mine’s right over here.” She indicated a small, red Honda.
Peppy and reliable, he thought, looking at the vehicle. He wondered if the same could be said for its owner.
“Good.” He slipped his arm through hers. “Then you can drive me.”
Jolene stiffened immediately, shrugging him off. “It’s not going to work, you know.”
His look was a mixture of raindrops and innocence. “What’s not going to work?”
“You trying to charm your way into anything,” she informed him. “I’ve had my shots against people like you.”
He was tempted to ask her just what she meant by that, but then let it go. “Everyone should always keep their inoculations up-to-date. But all I’m trying to charm my way into is your car.”
Step one, she thought. “Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?” she asked again.
He liked looking into her eyes. They were so green, they reminded him of fields of clover. He could easily get lost in them. “Didn’t think I was going to need it.”
She stared at him incredulously. “It was raining this morning.”
When she wrinkled her brow like that, a small vertical line formed just above her eyes. He had the urge to smooth it out with the tip of his finger. He kept his hands at his side. “What can I tell you? I’m an optimistic kind of guy.”
They had reached her car. She gave him a disdainful look. “That wouldn’t be my word for it.”
“Are you always this easy to talk to?”
She hit her security beeper. All four locks popped open. “This is my car, you getting in or not?”
“Since you put it so nicely—” He saw the look she gave him, like she was going to jump in and leave him standing there. “I’m in, I’m in.” He laughed as he quickly pulled the door open. Getting in, he put on the seat belt and settled back for the short ride to his own car. “So, what happened in your life after you were voted Miss Congeniality?”
She put her key into the ignition. “I scalped my first doctor.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly.” Starting the car, she pulled out of the parking spot.
Chapter Four
Jolene brought her vehicle to a sudden halt before Mac’s car. If the stop had been any more abrupt, Mac had a feeling his head might have snapped off at the neck.
“I take it you were a race car driver in your former life.” Even though she made no reply, he wasn’t in a hurry to get out. Her car was shuddering and bucking like a mustang anxious to be let out of the rodeo chute. “You might think about having that vibration checked out.”
“Thanks, I’ll take it under advisement,” she retorted crisply, already regretting her good deed. If there was any kind of traffic on the freeway—and she knew it was too messy for there not to be—she was going to wind up being late.
“Well, thanks for the ride, we’ve got to do this again sometime.” With his fingers wrapped around the handle, he made no effort to open the door.
“Do you mind?” Exasperated, Jolene nodded toward the door he hadn’t opened yet. “I’m in a hurry.”
Mac cocked his head, curious. “Hot date?” What kind of a man warmed Nurse Icicle’s toes and melted her resistance? he wondered.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not allowed to ask questions like that.”
“Sorry.” There was nothing left to do but get out, which he did. By the time he turned around and leaned in, he was soaked. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it,” she snapped, leaning over and pulling the door out of his hand. Once it was shut, she lost no time in driving away.
“Lovely woman,” Mac murmured under his breath. Fishing out his key, he unlocked his car door.
He’d no sooner gotten in and strapped on the seat belt than his cell phone rang. Trying to extract it from his rear pocket without removing the seat belt was an exercise in futility. As he unbuckled again and reached for the phone, he hoped it wasn’t an emergency of some sort. He was looking forward to getting to bed early tonight and catching up on a month’s worth of lost sleep.
He placed the phone next to his ear. “MacKenzie.”
“Dr. Mac?”
The uncertain, childish voice on the other end of the receiver sounded as if it was just an inch away from dissolving into sobs. He took a guess. “Tommy?”
“Uh-huh.”
Immediately alert, Mac sat up. “What’s wrong? Where are you?” Visions of a Doberman foaming at the mouth popped into his head. Was the boy cornered? He’d gotten to a telephone, which meant he had to be relatively safe. For the moment at any rate. He thought of the boy’s stepfather. Mac’s heart went cold. “You sound like you’re upset.”
A sniffing noise met his observation. “I’m home, Dr. Mac.” The boy lowered his voice so no one else could hear. “My dad says the surgery’s gonna cost too much, that I can’t have it.” There was silence for a moment. “Am I gonna be a freak forever?”
Mac could feel his heart constricting and struggled with the overwhelming desire to punch Allen’s face in for playing games with the boy’s head. But that wouldn’t help Tommy any.
“No, and you’re not a freak now. You just have a scar, that’s all,” he said firmly. “And don’t worry about the cost, Tommy. Something can be arranged.”
Blair Memorial was first and foremost a nonprofit facility that prided itself on giving back to the community. That was one of the primary reasons Mac had joined the staff in the first place. He could have never been associated with a hospital whose first allegiance was to its board. Mac was confident that he could talk to Blair’s chief administration officer and make arrangements for Tommy’s surgery.
The boy didn’t need this extra weight to carry around with him, he thought angrily. What the hell was wrong with Allen?
“Just tell your stepdad to make sure to bring you in for your appointment and we’ll iron out everything then.” It irked him to add, “Tell him not to worry about paying,” not because he cared about the money, but because he knew that he was saying exactly what Tommy’s stepfather wanted to hear. It definitely wasn’t his intent to make the man happy, but there was no way around it if Mac wanted to help the boy.
He could almost hear the boy struggling with his thoughts. “My stepdad says people don’t do nice things for other people without a reason.”
Mac didn’t doubt that the dark philosophy was something Allen was trying to force upon the boy. “I’ve got a reason, Tommy. I want to see you smile. Big-time. That’s my fee, Tommy, a great big, wide grin. Think you can muster a big grin for me?”
This time, there was no hesitation. He’d gotten through to the boy. “Uh-huh.”
“Okay.” Mac didn’t believe in putting off unpleasantries. He might as well get this over with now. “Tell you what, let me talk to your dad now.”
“Can’t,” Tommy told him solemnly. “He went out.”
“Are you by yourself?” If Tommy was alone, he was going to go over and wait until the boy’s stepfather returned—to have him hauled in for child negligence the way he should have last week.
“No, Mrs. Peabody’s here. She’s the lady down the block,” Tommy explained, then added, “My stepdad pays her to watch me when he goes out.”
Well, at least the man had some decency, Mac thought. Either that, or, more likely, he was worried about running afoul of the law.
There was no sense in trying to get a hold of him tonight. He had no way of knowing when the man would return home. “Do you know what time your stepdad usually gets home from work?”
The answer was prompt. Tommy had already struck him as an intelligent little boy. “Five.”
“Great, tell him I’ll be calling him tomorrow after five. We’ll working things out about your surgery. I promise.”
This time, the small voice on the other end sounded eager and hopeful. “Okay.”
Mac spent several more minutes on the phone with the boy, reinforcing that hopefulness. By the time Mac said goodbye, Tommy seemed relatively calm.
Hell of a thing for a little boy to be going through by himself, Mac thought as he flipped the phone shut and tucked it back into his pocket.
“Once more with feeling,” he murmured under his breath as he buckled up again.
This time, there were no further interruptions as he started his car. Moving carefully, he pulled his vehicle out of the near-flooded parking lot.
No danger of a drought this year. Now the county was on the alert for mud slides. Mac shook his head. Always something. Still, he wouldn’t want to live any other place.
Coming down the steep hill that led from the hospital onto the main road, Mac saw something pulled over to the side. At first, all he could make out were the flashing taillights. Coming closer, he recognized the make as one that was similar to Jolene’s.
And then he saw someone getting out. The umbrella that preceded her instantly became fair game for the wind that had picked up. The umbrella was turned inside out and then back again before the driver had a chance to fully emerge out of the vehicle.
Jolene.
Stopping his car beside hers, Mac pressed the button that rolled down his front passenger window and leaned over the seat to look out. “Jolene?”
Under any other conditions, she probably would have simply ignored him, or sent him on his way, opting to wait by the side of the road until someone else came along. After all, it wasn’t as if this was a deserted part of town. But the wind had already shown her who was boss by rendering her umbrella useless. She was getting soaked. Besides, she was already late.
Thinking that somewhere along the line, she must have crossed some invisible line she wasn’t aware of, offending a deity with a strange sense of humor, Jolene sighed and made her way over to the car. She pushed her wet hair out of her face.
“What?” she snapped.
The woman certainly wasn’t friendlier wet than she was dry, Mac thought. He gestured toward the car. “What’s wrong?”
“My car decided to take a nap—what does it look like?” Jolene could feel her temper becoming precariously frayed.
He addressed her in terms he’d heard his sister use when any of her kids were particularly acting up. “It looks like someone needs a time-out.”
