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She’d decided, after her pitiful, stumbling apology, and especially their ride in the elevator, that he was a good guy, even if he didn’t know it. He’d had the patience of a saint while she’d fumbled her way through her monologue, and he’d rewarded her by telling her to call him Johnny. Who else on the staff got to call him Johnny? Not that she ever would, at least not in front of anyone else, especially as he’d asked her to keep it to herself.
“Hey, Johnny.” Another doctor entered the room.
So much for the short-lived “special person privilege” fantasy.
“Dave. Come to admire your work?”
“Sure did.”
Polly surreptitiously read the other doctor’s badge. David Winters. Vascular Surgery. Of course, with the amputation they’d have to make sure the stump had proper circulation, and who better to assist the orthopedic surgeon than a vascular surgeon?
“I was going to wait until later to change the dressing, but there’s no time like the present. Polly, can you bring some gauze, dressings, four by fours and paper tape?”
“Sure. Would you like me to bring the Doppler too?”
“Great idea,” Dave said.
She knew it was never too early to make sure there was proper circulation to the wound, and the Doppler would let them hear the blood flowing through Annabelle’s vessels. A lot rested on every step of the recovery. In order to have Annabelle fit for a prosthetic device she’d need to have a strong and healthy stump. The post op-team, including Polly, would do everything in their power to make sure of Annabelle’s success.
After dropping off the supplies, Polly took a quick look at Annabelle’s surgical wound as John had already removed the dressing, and was surprised how clean and healthy the skin flap already looked. Cancer of the bone was a curse, but at least Annabelle would be able to wear one of the state-of-the-art prostheses being created these days. One day, when she was back on her feet and used to everything, wearing slacks or jeans, secure in her gait, no one would ever know that part of her leg was missing.
Later that day Polly took Charley his pills. She noticed the three signatures John Griffin had left on the teenager’s casts, which made her grin. They were big, just like him, and colorful, hmm, and he had much nicer handwriting than she’d ever imagined any doctor could.
“What’s so funny?” Charley asked.
“Nothing. I was just admiring your autographs from Dr. Griffin.”
“He’s cool.”
“Really? He seems so stern all the time.”
“Nah, he’s funny. And he’s the only person who hasn’t given me a lecture about my skateboarding.”
“Well, I guess accidents do happen, but maybe you should be more careful so as not to tempt the fates.”
“Yeah, I get it. And I’ve heard that before, but yolo, you know?”
“Yolo?”
“You only live once.”
So said a sixteen-year-old. “True, but preferably longer than shorter. Right?”
Charley blew her off with a toss of his long-hair. She needed to change the subject back to something lighter, something more interesting for both of them.
“I never would have pegged Dr. Griffin as funny.”
“No? You should see him do his Aquaman drowning imitation. And he can sing like that weird guy who got kicked off that TV talent show last season, too.”
“Are we talking about the same doctor?”
“Definitely. He’s a laugh all right.”
“Never in a million years would I have thought Dr. Griffin was funny or talented. I mean, the man seems to take himself far too seriously, in my opinion.” A second too late, she saw Charley’s eyes go wide.
“Is that so?” Johnny Griffin’s familiar voice flowed over her shoulder.
“Oh! Hey. We were just talking about you.” Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“So I heard.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do your Aquaman impersonation for me before I believe Charley here.”
Charley smiled and, amazingly, so did Johnny-boy. A look passed between them like a secret handshake.
“Stop by my office after work and I’ll be glad to give you the whole routine,” he said, sounding as though he might be flirting. Really? In front of a patient?
She pointed at him. “I’m tempted to call your bluff on that, Doctor.”
“I dare you,” he said, a playful, sparkly glint in his otherwise dead-serious eyes. Eyes that were becoming more and more intriguing each time she dared to look into them.
The rock-steady gaze caused a response that zipped down her spine with a surprise destination. What was going on here?
She wasn’t sure, but one thing she was positive about, she needed to leave the patient’s room before Dr. Griffin got an inkling of how much he’d just excited her.
* * *
Polly’s cell phone rang during lunch the next day and she was surprised to see who was calling. It was Greg. She hadn’t responded to his text from yesterday. Why the persistence all of a sudden?
“What’s up, Greg?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
“Did you get my text?”
“Oh, uh, I’ve been working a lot. I guess I missed it.” She wasn’t above lying to someone who’d lied to her. Repeatedly.
He went into his spiel about coming to New York in two weeks and how he hoped to take her out to dinner and maybe even to see a Broadway play. This couldn’t be the Greg she’d once known. Would he actually want to take her to an expensive play on Broadway? Not likely. Unless he’d finally come to his senses about what a prize she was. Again, not likely. Maybe he thought he could come to New York on business and cheat on his girlfriend with her while he was here? As in letting history repeat itself.
She wouldn’t put a sleazy plan like that past him.
One thing was sure—she wouldn’t have to find out if she didn’t accept his invitation.
“Can you give me a couple days to think this over, Greg?”
“Look, I understand I treated you pretty rotten last year, but I’d really like to see you again.”
“Give me a couple days, okay?”
She hung up before he could say another word, desperate to talk over this invitation with someone else. Her best friend back home worked the evening shift and Polly didn’t feel comfortable yet about opening up to anyone on staff about her personal issues.
She ate her lunch in silence, deep in thought, then as she took a bite of her tuna fish sandwich she practically fell out of her chair when one person popped into her head. Johnny. He was the one person on staff she’d made a complete fool out of herself in front of. Now she’d advanced to being able to tell him exactly what she thought and how she felt, even in front of patients and other staff members, much to everyone’s surprise. Hadn’t he invited her to show him hers if he could show her his in the moody moods department?
She’d tested the waters and had had a great time being completely herself around him the last couple of days, and he had invited her to come to his office after work for the Aquaman imitation. She understood he had only put that invitation out there because of Charley listening in, but still.
Besides, the man had to be a good twelve or so years older than her twenty-seven, and there was no way on earth he’d ever be interested in her. So that wouldn’t be an issue. Even if that look he’d given her yesterday had confused her and turned her on.
John seemed level-headed and world-weary. Why not run her dilemma by him? As a guy, he’d have good input for her. It might help her figure out Greg’s true intentions, though she had her own strong suspicions. She’d bought herself two days before she had to get back to Greg.
Maybe Johnny could help her see things how they really were. Now, if she could only work up the nerve to approach him.
* * *
On Friday evening, for the third time in a week, a light tapping on John’s office door interrupted his concentration on the computer. “Come in.”
The best thing he’d seen all afternoon, well, since the last time he’d seen her anyway, which had been two days ago, walked in.
Polly wore black, straight-leg jeans and high wedge heeled shoes with open toes. Red toenails seemed to smile up at him. Her bright blue top clung to her body in soft folds and outlined her breasts and curves in an inviting way. Since when had he noticed what a woman wore, or how much he liked it?
“Finally came to see my Aquaman imitation, did you?” He pretended not to be distracted by how fantastic she looked.
She smiled, a look that spread like warm butter across her face. “Not really.”
“What are you still doing here?” he asked.
“I was going to see a movie tonight, and needed to hang around until eight.”
She brushed her bangs across her forehead. The rest of her hair hung loose and free, something he hadn’t gotten to see while she was on duty or since the bar on Monday night. The waves and curls accentuated her features, big eyes, straight nose, those well-shaped lips, forcing him to realize she was pretty. Damn, she was pretty. “I was just going to pick up some pizza, wondered if you’d like me to bring you a piece, as you’re obviously still here at six-thirty.”
The thought of pizza did sound good, but if she expected him to join her in the employee lounge, she had another thought coming. “You deliver, too?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
What he wanted. Well, the picture of youth and suppleness in front of him gave a whole new meaning to what he wanted. Polly had started a domino effect of interest, attraction, challenge, and all-out lust since her arrival this week. He’d spent more time in the last five days missing and thinking about the wonders of sex than he had in all the years since Lisa’s death. It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t stop himself.
For whatever reason, Polly had the right combination of charm and good looks to make his body involuntarily take notice. The thought was wrong on so many levels yet he couldn’t give it up. She worked for him, for crying out loud, and what about Lisa? Well, that was a whole other matter.
Maybe having a piece of pizza with the new nurse and having his little fantasy of making love to her might add some long-overdue entertainment. That wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend an evening, would it? Compared to his usual Friday nights, a tasty slice of pie and a few naughty daydreams about the new nurse would be a welcomed change.
“You’d actually bring me a couple of slices of pizza, no strings attached?” He could think of a couple of strings he’d like to attach to a place or two on Polly, but that would be wrong on so many levels.
“Sure.”
“You’re too nice for your own damn good, Pollyanna.”
“What goes around comes around, right?”
“That’s only when the world makes sense, and most of the time there’s no rhyme or reason about what’s going on in the world.” Especially now with these crazy thoughts about Polly, which seemed to be growing stronger by the minute. Man, he needed to get a grip.
“Are we talking pizza or philosophy?”
He smiled, letting her youthful beauty warm up his innards and tease at that other kind of appetite he couldn’t shake. “Maybe a little of both.” He sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. Was right now one of those life moments a guy was supposed to grab with gusto, or was he going off the deep end? “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t I scare you off like I do everyone else on the staff?”
She smiled, took a few more steps toward his desk, and perched on the edge of the chair. He liked the way she kept her knees together when she sat, all prim and uptight. He liked the scent of whatever she’d splashed on her skin after work, too. “It takes a lot to scare me off.” She went silent for a moment. “You want the truth?”
Did he really want to find out how a needy people-pleaser like Polly had become that way? It could ruin this perfect storm of a fantasy brewing in his mind. He glanced at Polly, so appealing and open. He needed to quit thinking only about himself. “Nothing but the truth. Lay it on me.”
“My mom died when I was six and my dad couldn’t handle it. He took off without me. Later we heard he’d been killed in a car crash. After that I got shipped from one aunt or uncle to another. None of them really wanted me, though they pretended they did. Even a kid can tell when someone isn’t being sincere, you know?” She gave a wry, lopsided and totally appealing smile. “So it takes a lot more than what you dish out to scare me off.”
Her story snuck around his chest like a vine and tangled up his already confused feelings. It messed with those more basic thoughts floating around in his head, too. She’d been kicked in the teeth, and she’d gotten used to jerks like him giving everyone a hard time. It didn’t settle well on his conscience that, in her world, he was one of the bad guys. Why did one person get kicked in the gut and become unbearable, while another learned to be sweetness and light. Exactly what kind of a heel had he turned into since 9/11?
He had a sudden need to make up for all the times he’d been an ass to her. As hard as it would be, he’d banish those sexual thoughts she kept stoking in his head and show Polly some long-overdue respect. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you let me buy you dinner? I know a great Italian joint round the corner.”
“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that.”
“But you will.” He stood, took off and hung up his doctor’s coat on the rack behind his desk, and walked towards Polly. “Let’s go eat. I promise to have you back in time for your movie.”
She stood and looked at her backpack and lunch container, and the small plastic bag with her soiled scrubs.
“Leave that stuff here,” he said. “You can pick it up later. I promise to get you back in time for your movie. Besides, I’ve got to come back to say goodnight to the kids.”
Her widened eyes showcasing those baby blues looked as though they were calculating a gazillion reasons why she shouldn’t let him take over her dinner plans, yet she stood mute. If she’d had any clue how she turned him on, looking at him like that, she would run for cover.
Wondering how long he could keep his poker face, he took her elbow and nudged her along. “Come on, come on, let’s go, I’m hungry.” He’d use being gruff as his cover, because right now the feel of her skin beneath his fingers set off a whole new list of thoughts he hadn’t dared to think in ages.
She lifted her brows higher, which seemed impossible, as if she’d felt something in his touch, too. “Okay, Johnny.”
* * *
The Italian restaurant named Giovanni’s was less than two blocks away, and though Polly’s wedge heels weren’t exactly made for walking—she’d planned to change into flats before heading for the subway home—she enjoyed the exercise. Being in a big, noisy, polluted city, surrounded by skyscrapers and cement—albeit with many well-kept neighborhood parks, not to mention Central Park to soften the blow—made her miss home. John looked after her as they juggled their way through the passing crowds, ignored crossing lights, and jaywalked to their destination.
Giovanni’s was everything she’d hoped for in a restaurant—quaint, quiet, romantic, with tall, thin breadsticks waiting at each table and a handsome young waiter ready and willing to serve the diners. For a Friday night, the place was half-empty, and Polly wondered if it had anything to do with the food. Or if the time being only six-thirty in the city that never slept might have something to do with the small turnout.
Johnny knew the waiter by name and ordered a bottle of Chianti and a medium cheese pizza plus two dinner salads, without giving Polly a chance to change her mind about pizza for dinner. The list of pastas and seafood was impressive, but she had said she was going out for pizza, so she didn’t fault him for that. She even kind of liked John’s take-charge approach to all things in life.
While in his office she could have sworn there had been a flash or two of something in his eyes, after he’d ordered he gazed at Polly as if noticing her for the first time that day. That interesting curl of his lip stretched into a regular smile, like he was surprised and happy at what he’d found sitting across from him.
“I’m going to be straight with you and say I like your hair down,” he said, shaking out his napkin and putting it on his lap, sounding more like he was reading the first order of business at an admin meeting than paying her a compliment.
“Thank you.” A warm flush moved in a wave up her neck to her cheeks. Polly couldn’t exactly say the sensation was unpleasant, and by the appreciative glint in his eyes he must have found her turning red appealing, which made her face heat up even more.
She’d noticed a few things about him on their walk over, too. Like the fact that he filled out his slacks really well and his broad back made even a man of his size look like he had narrow hips. He walked like a guy on a mission, too, which made it extra-hard to keep up, especially dodging traffic and crossing streets in her wedge-heeled shoes.
The Chianti came quickly, and after downing half a glass of her ice water Polly looked forward to sharing a glass of wine with her boss.
“So,” he said, crossing his hands on the table top. “How did your first week at Angel’s go?”
