Single Dad, Nurse Bride
Lynne Marshall

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

THE hair on Rikki Johansen’s neck prickled. She chalked it up to internal radar as she always knew when a certain doctor came to the orthopedic ward. The fact she had a teeny tiny crush on him was beside the point.

Dr. Dane Hendricks didn’t look pleased, and the scowl on his face proved something was wrong. His agitated demeanor flashed a warning, and made her wish she could hide. With his broad shoulders squared, and an IV piggyback in his hand, his intense green eyes scanned the nurses’ station for a victim. He hadn’t spotted her yet. She ducked her head.

“Which nurse is taking care of room 416?”

Rikki had just started her shift that Thursday morning, and couldn’t avoid him. She glanced at her clipboard. Yep, she was the lucky nurse about to get chewed out. Dr. Henricks’s no-nonsense glare made her wish she could swap patient assignments with someone…anyone.

“Over here.” She nonchalantly raised her hand and pretended to be distracted by more important business, thumbing through a chart. She leaned back in her chair. She was damned if she’d let him know how much he and his demanding, perfectionist ways scared her.

His long strides echoed off the linoleum. Each step closer brought a twinge of dread. Rikki clenched her jaw, preparing for the worst.

He shoved the empty secondary IV under her gaze. “Whose name is that?”

“James Porter?” she read from the small plastic bag. Had she passed the test? She glanced upward into his dead-serious eyes, trying her hardest not to blink.

“Correct. So why did I find this hanging on, Patrick Slausen’s IV?”

Uh-oh. She jumped up from her seat, and almost bumped into his chest. He stepped back, training his no-nonsense stare on her.

At 7:15 a.m., not about to start making excuses about how she’d just come on duty and hadn’t assessed her patients in room 416 yet, she opted to keep things short and to the point.

“I’ll see to this immediately, sir, and write an incident report. Did you notice any adverse reaction from the patient?”

His glower sent a shiver down her spine. She tensed, waiting for the worst.

He adjusted his trendy glasses. “Lucky for you, he’s fine.” He turned. “I’m going to have a little conversation with your supervisor while you check things out,” he said over his shoulder, digging his heels into the lime-tinted floor.

Great. Two months on the job at Los Angeles Mercy Hospital, not even off probation yet, and he was going to complain to her boss about her. What did it matter that it wasn’t her fault? She was damned if she’d grovel to the self-assured orthopedic surgeon. She knew how to take a setback. Hell, her whole life had been one challenge after another. He wouldn’t get her down.

Not today.

Not tomorrow. That is, if she still had her job tomorrow.

At least the patient was OK. It could be worse.

Though rare, medication errors did happen in hospitals, and as an RN it was her job to see that they didn’t. But no one was perfect, and nurses needed to feel it was safe to come forward and admit when they’d made mistakes without losing their jobs. The right thing to do was to immediately report the error to the nursing supervisor, fill out an incident report, and notify the patient’s MD. This time Dr. Hendricks had beaten the nursing staff to the task. The outgoing nurse could not have noticed what she’d done. No one did something like this on purpose.

The best line of defense was always to check and double-check medications with the med sheet. Never rush. Allergic reactions from wrong medications could be fatal. Rikki knew that as well as she did her own shoe size.

What had they drummed into her head in nursing school? Check for the right patient, the right drug, the right dose, the right time, the right route, and then do it all again, and again, before giving a patient anything. Obviously the night nurse had been distracted, but that was still no excuse.

Rikki rushed into 416A, to Mr. Slausen, a total hip replacement, and began her head-to-toe assessment while taking vital signs.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said to both patients. “Get any sleep last night?”

They both grumbled from their day-old whiskered faces something about how the night nurses never left them alone. If she hadn’t been so distracted, she’d have teased them to brighten up their day, like she usually did with her patients. Oh, come on. Those poor night nurses get bored. They have to keep waking you up to give them something to do. But making a joke was the last thing on her mind this morning.

She noted on the chart that patient Slausen’s antibiotic was to be given every six hours. The last dose had been given one hour before her shift had begun. Thank heavens James Porter, his roommate in bed B, was on the same dose of antibiotic for his below-the-knee amputation. The error had been the right drug, the right route, the right time, and the right dose, but the wrong patient. A careless mistake. And there was no antibiotic hanging for Mr. Porter, which meant he’d missed a dose. Not acceptable.

She handed Mr. Slausen his bedside Inspirometer after listening to his breath sounds. “Here you go. Deep breathe. See how far you can raise the balls.” He’d sounded a little too quiet in his left lung. “Try for the smiley face area. We’ve got to re-expand your lungs.”

She glanced at Mr. Porter, watching and waiting for his turn for vital signs. “Do yours, too. It’s very important after surgery.” He reluctantly reached for the plastic contraption that bore a silly happy face that elevated to various levels with each deep inhalation. She knew it might be uncomfortable for a post-op patient to do, but it lessened the chance of pneumonia.

Rikki didn’t let on anything was wrong but, in her opinion, Dr. Hendricks had every right to be upset.

Janetta Gleason sat quietly while Rikki explained the mix-up with the medicine and the patients. She’d quickly learned she had a friend in her supervisor. Fair and just, Ms. Gleason never jumped to conclusions. The silver-and-black-haired lady smiled with kind gray eyes from behind her cluttered desk. Rikki bet she’d worn that same close-cropped tight Afro hairdo since the 1970s.

“I told Dane…I mean Dr. Hendricks…it wasn’t your fault. I told him I’d talk to Rita from nights.”

Rikki relaxed and studied a wall filled with pictures of the woman’s young grandchildren and thought how one day she wanted to have several children of her own.

“Thanks. I’m not sure he likes new nurses, and that mix-up didn’t help matters.”

“Yes, well, he does like things just so.” She rolled her eyes. “In a perfect world…maybe…”

Rikki handed the incident report across the computer. As she’d listed Dr. Dane Hendricks as first to notice the error, he’d have to sign it. She hoped Janetta would take it to him so she wouldn’t have to face him again.

She had her hands full with a fresh hip replacement. Not to mention teaching Mr. Porter and his family how to care for his amputation stump in order to get him fitted for a prosthesis. Then across the hall she had the lady in traction with a fractured pelvis—a very demanding patient who was constantly on the call light. Thank goodness her roommate was more reasonable to deal with. Though that patient’s compound fracture of the femur with metal rod placement looked much worse. It resembled Frankenstein’s head, with hardware and screws protruding from the flesh, but suspended with traction in a lamb’s-wool-lined canvas sling. Not a pretty sight.

The only thing she had to look forward to today was the first-of-the month party in the nursing lounge where they celebrated for anyone who had a birthday. November was her month, and on Saturday she’d turn twenty-six. Being raised in the foster-care system, special days like birthdays sometimes got overlooked. Today at work it was a given, her name was on the cake. For some dumb reason it made her happy.

Janetta read the incident report thoroughly and nodded her head in approval. “I’ll pass this information on to Dane and counsel Rita.”

“Thank you. Dr. Hendricks is the last person I want to see again today.”

“He’s actually a very nice man. He’s been through a lot the last few years.”

“Oh.” That had never occurred to her. Hadn’t she cornered the market on challenges?

“How are things going with your foster-kid?”

“Brenden is doing great. Thanks for asking. How about you? Have you signed on to replace that empty nest you’re sitting on?”

“Actually, I’ve attended all of the training classes. They assessed my home, made sure I had appropriate space and childcare arrangements, and issued me a license. So I’m good.”

“Great. I’ll see you in the childcare center soon, then.”

“Right. Hey, wasn’t it you who transferred here because of our family care center?” Janetta asked, while she nonchalantly signed the paperwork.

Rikki nodded. “Yes. That and the fact Mercy pays better, so I could afford my two-bedroom apartment and still have two dimes to rub together at the end of the month. And the childcare center has been a godsend with Brenden.”

“We’ve always been progressive here, so we finally had to listen to our working mothers.”

“Absolutely.”

“I only wish they’d had it when I was raising my kids.”

“Yeah, but someone had to be the trailblazers.”

Janetta laughed. Her smile brightened her eyes. “And I’ll finally get to take advantage of it when I start foster-parenting.”

“See? There is justice in the world.”

Janetta’s face grew solemn. Her gaze drifted somewhere deep within as if remembering something special. “Since Jackson died, I just feel like I need to give more back to the community.” She forced another smile. “You seem to do a lot of that.”

“Nah. But every little bit helps.”

“And I commend you for volunteering.”

“What goes around comes around. You know?”

“Karma?”

“More like the golden rule—do unto others…”

“Whatever your reasons, I’m impressed. Now, get back to work,” Janetta said with a kind smile and a swish of her hand. “And don’t forget to have some cake, girl!”

Dane knew what he had to do. He stripped off his specially made prescription OR goggles and placed them in the sterilization bin. He removed his blue paper cap, mask, and gown, and disposed of them.

An apology was in order.

He scrubbed his hands and threw some water on his face. After standing for three hours during surgery, he needed to shake out his legs. The nursing supervisor, Janetta Gleason, had explained the circumstances of his patient’s medication error, and he’d realized he’d accused the wrong nurse.

Emma had had another upset tummy last night, and he’d spent two hours pacing with her in his arms. He knew the girls missed their mother, yet they never talked about her. Instead, they’d take turns with odd little ailments or aches that only a good long hug could cure. Unfortunately for him, too often it was in the middle of the night before his scheduled surgery days.

He loved holding their little sparrow-like bodies—so fragile and innocent. They were the best things to have ever happened to him, and since their birth four years ago, medicine had run a distant second on the priority scale.

He shook his head. Normally, he’d check out his data before leveling a full-on attack at a colleague, but he’d been tired and irritable, and then, damn, he’d found the wrong patient’s medicine on his other patient’s IV. Was it too much to ask for proper patient care? He’d jumped to conclusions and blasted the wrong nurse as a result. Well, he couldn’t let his mistake lie. He slipped on a white coat over his scrubs.

Rikki. Yeah, that was her name.

He and the enchanting little nurse had made eye contact on several occasions on the hospital ward. She’d always offered a friendly though shy smile. He liked her huge brown eyes and glossy, butterscotch-colored hair. Not that he’d spent a lot of time noticing or anything, but she had an enticing piercing—a tiny diamond chip or crystal or something that looked like a sparkly, sexy mole just above her lip. At first he’d thought it was a fake stick-on thing, but over time he’d realized it was always in the same place.

It made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her. Would he feel it if he pressed his lips to her soft, sexy mouth? What was that about? He’d been too busy to ask anyone out on a date for months, let alone make out. Why think about it now?

He threw more water on his face and headed out the door. I’ve been working too damn much.

As soon as he wrote the post-op orders and notified the surgical patient’s family that the knee replacement had been a success, he’d go back to the fourth floor and seek Rikki out. He owed it her to make things right.

Dane glanced at his watch. Too late. She’d already be off duty and he needed to pick up his daughters from child-care and take them for dinner at Grandma’s. His apology would have to wait until tomorrow.

Rikki rushed into the blood donor center at Mercy Hospital. She’d promised to donate platelets tonight, a two-hour process, and the lab closed at 7:30 p.m. The teenager from next door, who she occasionally used as a babysitter, had arrived late.

She’d been hydrating herself and taking extra calcium and iron for the last week. She’d avoided analgesics that thinned the blood as a side effect. She knew the hospital’s oncology department was always in need of the blood component that played an important role in blood coagulation. Without platelets, many patients wouldn’t be able to survive chemotherapy or emergency surgeries.

She’d donated platelets during the first week of her employment when she had been going through orientation and they’d mentioned there was always a shortage in pediatric oncology. Having waited the required fifty-six days, she was ready to donate again, deciding to make it a routine.

Do unto others…her favorite foster-mother had always said.

After filling out the paperwork and being grilled about her sexual history—practically non-existent, thank you very much—she scooted back into the large over-stuffed lounger. She prepared to watch a movie on her one birthday splurge, a portable DVD player, while the nurse started the process.

She knew the drill. Her blood would be collected from one arm, sent through the plateletphoresis machine where the platelets would be removed, and her own blood would be returned to her other arm. She recalled a weird feeling that made her flush all over and gave her a strange metallic taste in her mouth the last time she’d donated. The nurse had told her it was the anticoagulant they used in the machine.

To help pass the time during the long donation that night, she’d chosen her kindest foster-mother’s favorite movie, Monty Python’s Holy Grail. A classic. She knew it was silly, but the two of them had always gotten such a kick out of the film when she was a young teenager. And laughing was good for the soul, the sweet Mrs. Greenspaugh had always said. After a long string of not-so-great foster-homes, she’d finally gotten a break with a terrific older lady. It had come at a perfect time in her life, too. Adele Greenspaugh had taught her to appreciate her individuality, and to love herself.

Unfortunately, she’d died and Rikki had gotten sent to the worst home of her life when she’d been sixteen. All the confidence Mrs. Greenspaugh had built up the “do-good witch” she’d been sent to had torn down. Well, she hadn’t broken her spirit, just knocked her off balance and made her a little insecure. The room blurred with a wave of nostalgia and misty eyes for “Addy,” the name Mrs. Greenspaugh had insisted Rikki call her. She shook her head and searched for a tissue.

Rikki hadn’t done nearly enough laughing in her lifetime, and with good memories and her favorite movie in tow, she’d decided to do some catching up tonight.

Just after the nurse had poked her and started the IV, the donation process began. She settled into her chair, and was about to start the movie.

A familiar voice made her freeze.

Dr Hendricks? She bent her head forward and looked around the donor equipment just enough to see his athletic frame. Pale blue dress shirt, navy slacks with leather belt on a trim waist…really terrific rump…Exactly what he’d been wearing that morning when he’d chewed her out.

What was he doing there? Surely he wasn’t a donor. She sat back and tried to become invisible.

Unfortunately, even with several other loungers available, he chose the one right next to hers. Her heart did a quick tap dance, and she held her breath. Why did he make her so anxious?

He nodded at her.

She nodded back, resisting the urge to play with her hair.

Before she knew it, Dr. Hendricks had loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and started rolling up his sleeves.

Rikki reminded herself to breathe.

He glanced at her, and his brow furrowed.

She squirmed, wondering what he was looking at.

“You don’t usually wear your hair down at work.”

“No. We’re not allowed to.” She ran jittery fingers through near waist-length tendrils. Her thick, naturally wavy hair was the one physical feature she was most proud of, but under his scrutiny she doubted even that measured up to his high standards.

“I see,” he said, giving no further sign of interest and snuggling back in his chair. “OK, Sheila, hit me with your best shot.”

The blood donor nurse smiled. “With veins like yours, I could do it blindfolded.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

He’d obviously been through this routine before. The ease with which he spoke to people at Mercy Hospital impressed Rikki. She wished she had half of his confidence.

“Well, I gotta tell you, your hair looks a heck of a lot nicer like that than that floppy knot thing you wear at work.”

She’d taken a shower and washed her hair after work, and realized that it was almost long enough to cut off and give to Care to ShareYour Hair. The organization that made wigs for chemo children required ten inches. Soon she’d have to make an appointment to get it all cut off, but right now it took every bit of control not to preen over his backhanded compliment.

She shot him a mock offended look and caught a sparkle in his playful green eyes. Playful? Dr. Hendricks? Wasn’t that an oxymoron? Time stopped for the briefest of moments, and it rattled her.

“Leave her alone,” Sheila broke in, and offered a grin to Rikki. “He’s just a big tease,” she said as she tightened the tourniquet, flicked his vein with her finger and rubbed it with topical disinfectant.

“Well, you should see her, Sheila. Sometimes she sticks pencils in the bun, like chopsticks.”

The nurse jabbed him with a large needle. He grimaced. “OK. I get your point. I’ll shut up now.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Rikki? Don’t you dare let him do his imitation of Hank Caruthers.”

Go, Sheila! Why couldn’t she have such poise where Dr. Hendricks was concerned? But, hey, he’d noticed quite a bit about her at work. She fought off a smile.

Sheila finished her job and gathered her equipment to discard. She stopped briefly, growing serious. “How’s your brother doing?”

“Things could be better. He’s finishing up more chemo, so I wanted to make sure he had plenty of platelets available.”

So handsome doctors who seemed to have it all together had brothers with cancer? Her heart tugged. She’d been focused on her own circumstances too much. No one made it through life without challenges, and Dr. Hendricks was no exception.

“I didn’t realize your brother had cancer,” Rikki said.

“Yeah, well, he’s putting up a good fight.”

“What kind?”

“Leukemia.”

Her hand fisted on the soft rubber ball the nurse had given her to hold throughout the donation process. She forgot to let up, and her knuckles went white.

A few moments of strained silence followed. What else could she possibly say? I’m sorry? What did it matter how she felt about his brother having a life-threatening disease? She meant nothing to Dr. Hendricks.

“Has he considered a bone-marrow transplant?”

“He’s adopted and no one in our immediate family is a match for him.”

“I’m on the National Marrow Donor Registry. Have our lab check it out. I think there’s a one in forty thousand chance he’ll find a match.”

Dane gave her a surprised but pleased glance. “That’s a good suggestion. Well, we’ll see how this next round of chemo goes.”

Rikki gathered he didn’t want to discuss the topic any further, and pushed the “play” button to start the DVD—anything to help distract her and chase away the awkward silence.

He stretched his shoulders and popped his neck before settling down.

“My daughters wear shoes just like that. Aren’t they called Mary Janes?”

She glanced at her feet. “Yes.” She flexed and pointed her toes. She’d spent one entire afternoon looking for her size of the unique shoes on the online auction network.

“I buy them for my girls because they’re sturdy and have good support. Why do you wear them?”

“I like them?”

“Why don’t those lacy black tights go all the way to your feet?”

How old was he? Didn’t he know that leggings were back in? “They’re leggings. They’re not supposed to.”

“I see.”

If I don’t look at him, maybe he’ll leave me alone. She fidgeted with her hair.

“That’s an interesting look with your denim skirt.”

No luck. She tried not to sigh.

“I think my grandfather used to own an Argyle sweater like the one you’re wearing.”

Growing more uncomfortable each second with his examination of her style of dress, she tried to divert his attention. “It’s the retro look. So, how old are your daughters?”

“Four.”

“Both of them?”

“That would make them twins.”

“Ah. Right. How nice.”

“Nice? It’s a nightmare. I mean, what am I supposed to do with two little girls? They want to play house and dress up and have tea parties. What about football? Playing catch?” He scrubbed his face. “Before they grew hair, I’d never tied a bow in my life. Now I’m forced to be a ribbon expert.”

Rikki sputtered a laugh. “Can’t your wife help?” She glanced at his empty ring finger, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything these days. What if she’d said the wrong thing?

His casual expression changed along with the tone of his voice. No longer jovial, he spoke softly. “I’m a single father.”

She’d gone and done it again, taken a friendly conversation and ruined it, just like her last foster-mother had told her. “You always ruin things, Rachel Johansen. Learn to keep your mouth shut. You’re lucky to have a place to live.”

She restarted the movie and wished she could disappear.

“What are we watching?” Dr. Hendricks sounded like himself again. Was he giving her a second chance to put her Mary Jane clad foot into her mouth? Well, if he thought her style of dress was strange, he was bound to make fun of her quirky choice in movies.

“Monty Python,” she mumbled.

He grinned. “Good choice. I see we’re members of the same cult.”

She looked at him with surprise. He winked, and a quick flutter burst across her chest. Positive the simple gesture hadn’t meant anything to him, she wished she could resist his charm half as easily.

Nurse Sheila came by and checked both of their arms. “Are these IVs OK for you two?”

Rikki nodded and smiled.

Dr. Hendricks glanced at one of his arms. “’Tis but a flesh wound,” he said with a poor excuse for a British accent.

Rikki’s quiet laugh drew his attention. She saw that spark in his gaze again, and it jolted her. Thick dark lashes that any woman would die for lined the green of his eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that he wore small wire-framed glasses, he’d be flawless. But wasn’t that part of what she liked so much about him, the fact that he wasn’t quite perfect?

The next time he made her feel nervous at work, she’d just imagine him sitting on the floor, legs crossed, playing dolls with two little pixies. Her mouth twitched at the corners.

Rikki relaxed. And if he enjoyed the humor of Monty Python, he just might understand her quirky personality. Something about that possibility made her break into a smile.

He caught her. They grinned at each other, and her heart broke into another tap dance. The quick rush made her mildly giddy, and she liked it. And there was that look again.

“I believe,” he said, removing his glasses and looking steadily into her eyes, “I owe you an apology.”

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER a day off on Friday when Rikki rested, rehydrated herself, and spent quality time with Brenden, she arrived at work on Saturday morning invigorated and ready for duty. It was a hell of a way to spend her birthday, but she didn’t have any other plans. The call light in 408 was already on at the nurses’ station—the fractured pelvis lady.

Rikki flopped her clipboard on the counter and headed for the room. Her hunch was right and she discovered the usual suspect on the call light. But the woman wore a worried expression, and pointed towards her roommate, the fractured femur in bed B.

She rushed to the restless and coughing patient.

“What’s up, Mrs. Turner?”

The woman squirmed and pulled at her hospital gown. Her left leg, suspended by traction and a splint, had been healing beautifully, considering the hardware sticking out of it. She hadn’t complained of pain the day before yesterday when Rikki had last taken care of her.

No one had mentioned any complications with her condition in report, yet here she was, clearly in distress. Rikki needed to figure out what to do.

“Are you all right?”

The woman nodded her head and fussed with the sheets on her bed, trying to adjust her position but unable to move much with the traction holding her in place.

As it was the beginning of the shift, Rikki took vital signs. Mrs. Turner had an elevated temp and her pulse rate was close to one hundred. She breathed as though she was anxious, short and shallow. There was no obvious sign of infection at the surgical site.

Something caught Rikki’s attention when the woman tugged on the neck of her hospital gown. A sprinkling of small purplish spots dotted the surface of her chest. Rikki peeked inside the loose short sleeve of the gown, where more spots could be seen under her arm and on the side of her breast. It wasn’t a rash. A mental red flag went up.

“May I look in your eyes, Mrs. Turner?”

The agitated woman nodded.

Rikki gently pulled down the lower lid and discovered a few more of the same sort of spots inside the eye membrane. Another red flag.

“I need to call your doctor, but in the meantime I’m giving you some oxygen.” She pulled the two-pronged plastic tubing out of the bedside bag and connected it to the wall oxygen, then fitted it inside the patient’s nose. “I’ll be right back.”

She rushed past the roommate, thanking her on her way out while dredging up well-learned data from nursing school.

Fat embolism was a complication that sometimes occurred with severe multiple fractures, especially of long bones. Mrs. Turner had a fractured femur. Fat globules could be released from the fracture into the bloodstream and act the same as blood clots, which could migrate to the lungs, heart, or brain. If not dealt with immediately, they could prove lethal.

Rikki grabbed the patient’s chart, remembering Dr. Hendricks was her doctor. Flipping quickly through the hospital phone book, she found his private line and dialed. She’d try calling him before the on-call doctor.

“Dr. Hendricks,” he answered gruffly on the first ring.

“Doctor?” She was surprised he was in his office on a Saturday instead of in surgery. “Mrs. Turner in 408B has developed petechiae across her chest and inside her eyes. She’s restless and her temperature and respirations are elevated. I’m worried it might be fat embolism. Can you take a look at her or shall I call your on-call resident?”

“I’ll be right there.” He hung up before Rikki could explain why she hadn’t thought to call the doctor on duty—because she’d become flustered and her mind had gone blank when she’d seen whose patient Mrs. Turner was. Rikki rushed back to the patient’s room to check the oxygen saturation, which to her relief was in the normal range.

Dr. Hendricks appeared out of nowhere, winded and ready for business, as though he’d taken the stairs from his first-floor office rather than wait for the notoriously slow elevator. His sandy dark blond hair looked disheveled, and his white doctor’s coat wasn’t buttoned.

“Mrs. Turner.” He slowed his pace and had a calm smile on his face, though his breathlessness gave his sprint away. “How are you feeling today?”

“OK, I guess.”

As he casually questioned his patient, he looked under her lids and peered down the neck of her gown, confirming what Rikki had told him. “Are you having any chest pain or trouble breathing?”

Mrs. Turner shook her head. “I’m just antsy. You know, anxious, because I’ve been stuck in this bed too long.”

“I’d go a little stir-crazy, too, if I were you.” He nodded at Rikki while he listened to Mrs. Turner’s lungs through his stethoscope. “Take a deep breath,” he told the patient. “Does it hurt when you breathe?”

“No, I just feel like I need to cough.”

“Let’s get a blood gas, stat,” he said to Rikki. “How is her urine output?”

“Um…” Rikki hadn’t thought to check her intake and output, and Mrs. Turner hadn’t asked to use a fracture pan yet that morning.

He didn’t wait for her response. “Get some IV fluids going—normal saline, 125 cc an hour. Get a urine sample to check for fat globules. I’ll order a stat CT scan of the brain and lungs, and we’ll start heparin therapy after the blood gas has been done. Page me as soon as the results are back.”

Rikki flew out of the room and paged the respiratory therapist for the blood gas test, then rushed to the supply closet for what she’d need to start the intravenous line. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dr. Hendricks scribbling on a green doctor’s order sheet, and blanched when he glanced up and caught her. When he smiled and nodded, she flushed and scuttled back to the patient’s room, trying not to feel flustered under his smoldering gaze.

In the midst of setting up the IV bag and tubing, Dr. Hendricks appeared in the doorway again.

“Here’s my beeper number.” He handed her a small piece of paper.

She snatched it with an unsteady hand. He didn’t let go of his end of the paper, forcing her to tug and look up at his teasing eyes. He gave her a casual smile and said, “Good catch. This could have gotten ugly. Oh, and I’ve ordered IV steroids.”

“You’ll be fine.” He called out to Mrs. Turner. “Rikki here will keep tabs on you until I get back.”

He nodded again, and smiled in a naturally sexy way that made her toes curl, then left.

She stood quietly, shaken. Why did she let him have such power over her? Damn, denial was useless—she had a crazy crush on the man. There was no getting around it.

Thankfully, she had something to distract her, something much more pressing to attend to than Dr. Hendricks’s make-your-knees-knock smile. She had a sick patient to care for.

Dane had finished his weekend rounds and discharged several patients. Mrs. Turner’s computerized tomography revealed early evidence of fat embolism in her lungs, and she needed to be transferred to ICU and intubated until her condition came under control. If Rikki hadn’t been on the ball, the patient’s prognosis could have been much worse.

He put his hands in his pockets, deep in thought, and walked to his car in the doctors’ parking lot. He glanced up to find a captivating vision before him. Rikki’s hips swayed with a mesmerizing rhythm as she walked quickly to her car. She’d unwound her bun and, as if a pendulum, her ponytail kept counter-time to her strut in a most alluring way. He rushed and caught up with her.

“What’s your hurry? Hot date?”

She spun around, looking surprised. “Oh.”

He could get used to that wide-eyed liquid brown gaze of hers.

She’d changed into baggy camouflage pants and a tight T-shirt, revealing a modest chest. Her backpack matched the pants. Not exactly the sexiest outfit he’d ever seen, but on her it worked. The fashion statement was further evidence that he couldn’t deny: he was a good ten years her senior. Could they possibly have anything in common? At least she wasn’t wearing combat boots, just brown high-top canvas sport shoes!

“Um,” she said, as though still trying to figure out what to say. “No. I have some errands to run.”

“I see.” He forced her to slow down, so they could walk together and talk. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk with you.”

Painful silence made Dane more uncomfortable than he’d been in ages. Had he forgotten how to make conversation with a woman? He definitely needed to get out more. Well, he could always keep the subject on business. “Again, I want to thank you for being on the ball with Mrs. Turner.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, but it’s my job.”

“And you do it well.”

It was never a good idea to socialize with people at work, especially with the kind of thoughts Rikki Johansen put into his mind. But his daughters had a sleepover party that night, and he was free to have some adult time. Only problem was, he didn’t have anyone to spend it with. And seeing the ortho nurse had given him an idea. Ah, hell, why not just dive right in?

He cleared his throat. “If you’re not busy tonight, how about having dinner with me?”

The color drained from Rikki’s face. She practically stumbled before coming to an abrupt halt, though she covered it well by searching the asphalt for the invisible stray rock that must have tripped her. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“I believe that’s what I said.”

More stunned silence.

“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked.

“Well, no. But…” She bit her lower lip.

“I know, it might be considered improper of me to ask you out, but it’s not like I’m your boss or anything. We may work for the same hospital, but I don’t sign your checks, and it’s just dinner, you know?”

“I’m parked over here.” She pointed to an older and well-worn car. “Um…”

“Listen, if I’ve put you on the spot, forget I said anything, OK? No hard feelings.”

“No. It’s not that.” She glanced briskly his way, as though torn about what to say, and dug into her backpack for her car keys.

An odd feeling of discomfort prompted him to do more explaining. “I enjoyed watching the movie with you the other night, and I thought we’d started to get to know each other at the donor center. You seem like a nice woman and, bottom line, I don’t feel like eating alone. That’s all I’m saying.”

He didn’t want to pressure her into feeling obligated to go out with him. Though usually any woman he’d asked out jumped at the chance. Damn, had he gotten that rusty in the last few months?

Rikki still hadn’t located her keys, and dug into several different pockets of the backpack in a frustrated manner. So how could he get out of this awkward mess he’d made and still save face?

“I’m not on call, but I gave you my beeper number earlier today. If you change your mind, beep me. I’ll keep it turned on, just for you.” Let her think whatever she wanted about the double meaning of “turned on.” She did flip his switch—that, he couldn’t deny.

But he had his pride. He’d dump the dinner invitation in her lap, and if she didn’t follow through, he’d know she wasn’t the least bit interested and forget about it. But, damn, he could have sworn there was something, some kind of chemistry between them. He’d definitely felt it. And he really did want to explore where it all might lead.

Maybe he’d been wrong?

He reached into his shirt pocket for his business card and handed it to her. “Don’t lose that number.” He attempted a dashing smile while feeling strangely insecure. “My cell phone number is on it, in case I don’t answer my beeper.”

She read the card and recited his number. “OK.” She scratched her nose. “I’ll see how things go.”

Not the most encouraging answer in the world, but he’d settle for it.

No fancy automatic car opener for Rikki, she shoved the key into the lock, swung open a creaky and dented door, and slid inside behind the steering wheel. He noticed a child’s booster seat in the back. Did she have a kid?

Right this minute he didn’t care if she had three kids, he just wanted to take her out to dinner and have a good old-fashioned date with a woman. This woman. Male pride made him take the last word. “I know the perfect place for a great meal.”

Before she could answer, he spun around, stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled slowly toward his new car in the doctors’ parking section. He casually whistled, and hesitated long enough to make sure her clunker of a car started.

By six o’clock Rikki had grown restless. Nothing remotely interesting was scheduled on TV. She’d seen all of her DVDs a million times, and wasn’t inclined to rent anything new. Her best friend had a rescheduled blind date she couldn’t get out of, and had promised to celebrate her birthday with her on Sunday night.

Brenden sat quietly on the floor, playing with his favorite toy robot in his Superman Halloween cape.

She flounced down on her couch and put her fuzzy slippers up on the coffee table. Another Saturday night at home—but this time, it was her birthday.

She couldn’t get Dane out of her mind. Wasn’t he totally out of her reach? Had he really said he’d liked talking to her? Well, they’d had a good time watching the Monty Python movie, and they’d both laughed at all the same parts. She imagined his chiseled face. What would his close-cropped hair feel like to run her fingers through? Ha! As if she’d ever have the chance.

His beeper number repeated in her head. How often did mature gorgeous surgeons invite her out to dinner? Never!

Meghan, the teenager next door, had offered to watch Brenden as a birthday present—why not let her?

Oh, what the hell. She searched for his business card, and a sudden rush of jitters made her drop it twice. She stood tall and swallowed, picked up the phone as a stream of adrenaline trickled through her chest, and dialed.

When he answered, she realized she’d been holding her breath. “Dr. Hendricks?”

“Call me Dane. What took you so long?”

How had he known it would be her? She picked at her hair, flustered. She heard children’s voices and lots of racket in the background, wherever he was.

“Daddy? Daddy?”

“Hold on a second, Rikki. OK, girls, behave tonight. Emma, don’t be a tattle-tale about everything Meg does, OK? And Meg, don’t give Emma anything to tattle-tale about.”

She heard him kiss his daughters, and another woman’s voice spoke up. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of them,” she said. “We’re going to play dress-up and bake cookies and watch movies.”

What sounded like a herd of little girls clapped and squealed, “Yay!”

Rikki smiled. She’d never been to a sleepover party. Come to think of it, she’d never played dress-up either.

More kisses. More goodbyes. A door closed.

“You there?” Dane asked.

She snapped out of her memories. “Yeah.”

“When shall I pick you up?”

Ever cautious as a single woman, she answered without thinking. “I’ll meet you.”

After he’d told her the location of the restaurant, a place she’d never be able to afford on her own, her nerves doubled.

Now it was her turn to play dress-up.

Dane sat at the bar at his favorite steak house in Beverly Hills, nursing a beer. He’d pulled some strings to get a last-minute reservation. It was an unusually warm evening for early November, thanks to the Santa Ana winds blustering through L.A. He almost left his sport coat in the car, but remembered that the restaurant required men to wear jackets.

He tapped his foot and checked his watch again. He’d always been a stickler about being on time, and it was a quarter after the hour. But with that old clunker of hers, Rikki may have broken down on the way. He should have insisted on picking her up, but something in her tone of voice had made him back off and let her call the shots. He dug into his pocket for his cell phone and scrolled through previous incoming calls to find her number. Just about to dial, he glanced up.

Rikki stood in the restaurant entry in a whirlwind of color. From her gauzy layered skirt to the two-toned baby blue and brown vest top, she lit up the room. Copper-colored sandals that laced around her calves reminded him of a film he’d once seen on the Roman Empire. He smiled.

She quickly brushed her hair to fight off the windblown look and glanced his way. He pushed off from his barstool and walked closer. He adjusted his glasses to take a closer look at the pleasing sight.

There were no less than six bead bracelets on both of her wrists, alternating blues with browns, and a necklace of several strands to match just about anything in the world. His daughters loved to make their own jewelry with plastic beads, just like hers. And right now he could almost see her in one of Meg’s tiaras.

She blinked in recognition and her gaze skittered from his to around the lobby and back. In the upscale steakhouse, where women flaunted their highly insured gems, she stood out as “different.” Well, to hell with everybody. He liked how she looked.

Rikki’s quirky outfit tickled him. She was the most genuinely unique person he’d met in ages. A smile of admiration stretched across his face as he approached. Something about the intentional hint of brown lace from her bra peeking above her scooped neckline pleased him even more.

“Hi,” she said, with an insecure gaze upwards. “I had trouble finding parking.”

The expensive valet-only parking must have had her walking half a mile from wherever she’d left her car. Why hadn’t he thought about that? He should have put his foot down when she’d insisted she’d meet him here. No wonder she was late.

“No problem.” He reached for her hand and tugged her toward the hostess. “We’re ready for our reservation.” A surprisingly pleasant surge of energy started where he held her small, warm hand in his. He could get used to that.

She’d gone to trouble for him, and he liked the results. He glanced appreciatively into her delicately made-up eyes, more lovely than ever. Soft butterscotch waves tumbled over her shoulders, and she nervously used her free hand to flip her hair behind her shoulder. She smelled of citrus-infused lotion, and her tantalizing mouth glistened with lipstick, as if daring him to kiss her. Maybe he would…later.

Struck with a sudden urge to skip dinner and get right down to dessert, he swallowed hard.

“Your table is ready.”

“You ready?” He broke off his stare.

Rikki nodded. He gave her a gentle nudge at the small of her back to move her along.

Her dainty hips swayed as they snaked through the crowded and noisy restaurant to their table. He liked the swishing sound the skirt made and the natural herbal scent of her hair.

Content with the thought of sharing dinner with his intriguing date, he couldn’t help but think this could be the start of something. His mouth went dry and a quick response kept him from tripping on a chair.

When had been the last time he’d dared to think that?

Several patrons cast curious glances at Rikki. Maybe they thought she was some eccentric starlet, or a pop singer. Whatever their reasons for staring, she didn’t let it faze her. Instead, she held her head high and squared her shoulders until the hostess seated them. He liked her attitude.

Rikki had never felt more self-conscious in her life. She’d only seen restaurants like this in movies. Perfectly coiffed women and tailored men filled the tables. She even thought she saw an actor from TV in one of the booths at the back.

No gawking.

Her multiple foster-parents had frequently brought in children for the extra income, not purely out of the goodness of their hearts, and a place like this would never be in their budget. She and a few friends had once splurged and treated themselves to a swanky restaurant when they’d graduated from nursing school, but she honestly didn’t feel the food had been worth the price. She had her few favorite eateries, and they weren’t anywhere near this side of town.

Dane looked relaxed and in his element while he perused the menu. “I recommend everything except the seafood. Stick with steak tonight.”

“But I’m a vegetarian.”

He bore the look of a surgeon who had just amputated the wrong leg. He shook his head. “No wonder you’re so scra—er, tiny. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bristling over his comment, she stared him down. “You never gave me a chance.” She closed her menu and put it on the table. “You didn’t give me a choice, or a say in where I’d like to go. You didn’t ask what I’d like to eat. You just said, ‘This is where we’re going,’ and ‘Be there.’”

Dane stiffened. He clutched the wine list and frowned, confused.

She saw the evening turning around the wrong bend, and that was something she couldn’t take. After all, it was her birthday. Didn’t she deserve a nice evening out?

She wanted things to be better than this, even though Dane had some explaining to do about the look he’d given her when he’d first seen her. Surprise? Horror? She wasn’t sure which. Well, get used to it, buddy, because this is me. I know who I am, how I dress, and what I eat. If he wanted to get to know the real her, she wasn’t about to pretend to be someone else.

Truth was, she wanted a chance to get to know Dane Hendricks too—a man who would most likely never have given her a second look if they’d passed on the street. For some odd reason she’d caught his attention at work, and now she’d like to see how long she could hold it.

“But that’s OK.” She smiled brightly, changing tack. “They’ve got lots of great side dishes and salads.” She picked up her menu again. “I’ll be fine.”

He studied her with a confused gaze a few seconds longer. “By any chance, do you drink wine? I was going to order a pinot…”

“Chardonnay?” She offered an apologetic smile. “I only like white wine. Sorry. But I can have tea, and you—”

“No.” He raised his palm. “Chardonnay it is. And for the record, I like petite women.”

Petite sounded a heck of a lot better than scrawny. Yeah, she knew what he’d meant the first time. But she’d give him a second chance.

Dane quickly made up for things. He became her hero when he withstood the snooty look the wine steward gave him when he ordered the bottle of white wine against the expert’s advice for a nice pinot noir. No two-buck house wine for him, which was Rikki’s usual choice when she was paying. He ordered the finest Chardonnay on the wine list. And he also suggested to the waiter that they should add a few more vegetarian entrées to their menu when they ordered their meal.

While they waited for their meal, Rikki skimmed her repertoire of conversational topics. The files were frighteningly thin when it came to holding her own with a man like Dane. What could they possibly talk about besides life at Mercy Hospital? An idea popped into her head. She adored kids. He had kids. Why not?

“So, you must love being a dad.”

He raised his brows. “It’s the toughest job I’ve ever had. Fact is, I’d rather do back-to-back hip replacements than stare into my daughters’ big green eyes and tell them no.”

He had a point. Children could be ruthless with their miniature bodies and precious faces, and the thought of big Dane Hendricks being defeated by his daughters made her grin.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love my girls. And it’s my responsibility to be their dad. But do I love being a father? I’ll be honest with you. No.”

“Well, I love kids. Someday I hope to have a whole houseful of them.”

“You may change your tune once you’ve had a couple.” He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and chomped vigorously.

“I’m a foster-parent. I’ve hosted half a dozen kids already, and right now I’m caring for a four-year-old orphan named Brenden Pascual. It’s been tough, but very rewarding to know that I’m giving him stability when his whole world has been turned upside down.”

“That’s commendable. You seem to be a very caring person.”

“Nah. It’s just my way of giving back.”

“May I ask you a practical question? What about child care? How do you manage that? I’ve had nothing but trouble with nanny after flaky nanny. And my mother can only handle the girls for so long.”

“Why haven’t you tried Mercy’s child care? It’s open for all employees. That’s the reason I transferred over from St. Michael’s.”

He tilted his head. “You know, you’ve got a point. Maybe I will try it out. Thanks.”

She sat a littler straighter. “Glad to be of service. And for your information, caring for foster-kids hasn’t put me off kids at all. I still want several kids of my own one day.”

“That’s also very commendable. But as for me, I know my limits. I’ve met my quota. No more kids.”

Despite their differences on views of family size, the rest of the meal was pleasant enough. They chuckled over their favorite scenes in movies, and realized they both liked to hike. Rikki discovered Sheila was right—Dane did a flawless imitation of Mercy Hospital’s administrator.

The absurdity of him clowning around and his spot-on imitation set her off giggling until she realized people were staring. She used her napkin to cover her mouth and quieted down. Dane kept taunting her by whispering more Hank Caruthers-isms. He obviously enjoyed watching her squirm and snort.

After the meal they both agreed that pie was the only true dessert and decided to share. She didn’t let on it was her birthday, and cake would be more appropriate. But she had to admit so far it had been a fairly decent date.

So why was she still feeling so uncomfortable with Dane?

After one large bite of mixed berry pie, a couple brushed past their table, and a familiar face from Mercy Hospital stopped.

Exquisite Dr. Hannah Young, sleek, statuesque, dressed to knock out whoever her date was in a tight little black designer dress, paused to rest her hand on Dane’s shoulder. “Greetings. Fancy meeting you here,” she said, as though it was some sort of inside comment about the restaurant being their favorite hangout.

Dane stood up quickly, dropping the napkin from his lap. “Hey, Hannah.” They smiled warmly at each other and shook hands. She cast a cool dismissive gaze in Rikki’s direction. “You know Rikki Johansen from Orthopedics,” he said, and gestured toward her while he bent down to retrieve his napkin. Rikki had never seen him flustered before.

The doctor raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in Rikki’s direction. Her message came through loud and clear. What are you doing here with this gorgeous man? There must be only one reason. Hmm. She made a quick calculated head-to-table glance, and her perfectly shaped brows twitched in disapproval. “Good to see you.”

Rikki forced a smile, nodded and said a curt “You too.”

“Well, I’d better get back to my date. See you Monday at the admin meeting, Dane. I hear Hank has another groundbreaking announcement.”

“I’ll be there.” He passed Rikki a mischievous sideways glance as though on the verge of another imitation. “Hey, great seeing you, Hannah.” Dane sat back down with new color in his cheeks. Was he embarrassed being caught in public with someone like her?

All the insecurities she’d tried to suppress for the night came charging through her shaky defenses. As always, she didn’t measure up. Everything had been a mistake. How could she—an abandoned kid from foster-care—ever feel on an equal footing with Dane?

“Why can’t you be like those other girls, Rachel Johansen?” her least favorite foster-mom had chided her when she’d begun expressing herself by dressing differently than her peers. “You ain’t got no class and you never will.”

She stopped in mid-bite of the last of the dessert as a wave of anxiety took hold, and pushed back her chair. “I need to find the ladies’ room. Will you excuse me?”

He looked surprised, the way he’d looked when he’d first spotted her waiting in the restaurant entryway.

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything. When she reached the full-length mirror in the restroom, she scanned herself head to toe. No perfect little black dress for her. No. How had she possibly thought she looked nice with her own rendition of urban fairy? All she needed was a laurel crown. What had she been thinking? She should have known better than to venture out of her safe little antisocial cave. But wasn’t this how she’d always thumbed her nose at society? Dress weird, be an individualist, show them you don’t give a damn what they think. You don’t want to fit in. Maybe they’ll believe you. And while you’re at it, maybe you’ll convince yourself.

But she did want to fit in with Dane.

Part of the dinner had been great fun, but at other times she’d sat stiff and self-conscious. Old habits never died. In each new foster-home she’d had to make a quick study of the family dynamics in order to survive. Her overall position anywhere she’d lived had boiled down to one thing—she had been a misfit. The families had either felt sorry for her, doted too much, making her withdraw, or had chided her for her mother’s problems, expecting the worst. And when they had, she’d taken their challenge by messing up in school and dressing weird.

Rikki had quit intentionally failing in her studies once she’d been on her own, but the defiant style of dress had stuck even when she’d pulled it together and got the education she needed to become a nurse. It had become who she was—different.

If she was being honest, she’d admit that Dane had gone out of his way to try to make her comfortable. Hadn’t he stuck up for her to the snooty wine steward and made her laugh with corny imitations?

Confused, she rubbed the line between her brows and paced. What should she do?

Her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. It was Meghan, her babysitter. “Brenden’s throwing a fit,” she said. “He keeps yelling, ‘I want my mommy.’ I can’t calm him down.”

Rikki took a deep breath. “He does that sometimes. I’m leaving right now. I’ll be home within the hour.” So much for trying to work anything out with Dane tonight. She’d go back to their table, explain the situation and hope for a reprieve.

When she got to the lobby, Dane had already paid their bill and was waiting for her. Obviously, he couldn’t wait to get the date over with either. But his eyes were soft and he looked like a man seeking peace.

The truth about Rikki had been written on the bathroom wall. The mirror had said it all. She was a misfit and she and Dane didn’t belong together. She needed to cut things off with him before they ever got started. And Brenden had given her the perfect excuse.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I thought we might go somewhere to listen to music or have a drink. What do you say?”

So he wasn’t beating her out the door? It didn’t matter—their date was history.

“I can’t. My foster-kid is having a bad night.” He wasn’t the only one.

Dane straightened his shoulders and jiggled the car keys in his hand. “I see. Well, in that case, let me drive you to your car.”

“Oh. No. That’s OK. I can walk.”

He reached for and held her elbow, not about to let her get away with her disappearing act. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rikki.”

Wasn’t that what she was? Ridiculous? The whole evening had been a ridiculous farce, except it hadn’t been funny. This was her life, out of sync with Dane Hendricks and the rest of the universe. And the damn thing was, she’d wanted to belong.

Rikki relented. “OK. I’m about a mile away, anyway.”

He chuckled, and took her hand. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Oh, yeah, she knew that.

Dane stared at Rikki, who studied her brightly painted toes while they waited for the valet to bring the car. No spark responded from her hand in his this time around. Instead, she’d subtly removed herself from his grasp in order to keep her hair out of her face when the wind had blustered through the driveway.

What the hell had gone wrong? He’d done all the right things for a perfect date—chosen a good restaurant, expensive wine. Hell, he’d even dressed up. But then, so had she…in a most unusual fashion. Peacock-feather earrings would have been the perfect accessories for her outfit. But he liked how she looked. Hell, he liked her, but somehow he’d only succeeded in making her uncomfortable. What had happened to the old Hendricks charm?

Despite every effort he’d made to loosen her up, she’d seemed uptight throughout dinner. He’d thought he’d broken through when he’d done his imitation of their hospital administrator, but she’d accidentally snorted when she’d laughed and had grown self-conscious again. He’d thought the snort had been kind of cute, but how did you explain that to a self-conscious woman?

And then, with exceptionally bad timing, gorgeous Hannah from Oncology had shown up, which had seemed to intimidate Rikki even more. But Hannah could do that to just about anyone. And to top everything off, of all the rotten luck, without knowing Rikki was vegetarian, he’d chosen a steak house. Way to go, Hendricks.

And what kind of convenient excuse was it for Rikki to claim her foster-kid was acting up so she had to leave? But if it was true, wouldn’t he do the same thing if one of his girls were in need? Nothing was more important to him than their well-being. Fact was, children complicated life, and he didn’t need any more problems. And Rikki couldn’t hide that gooey-eyed look whenever the conversation turned to kids. Rikki was a package deal he wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved with.

At a loss for words he tipped the valet and assisted Rikki into his car. She’d gone stiff again, obviously ill at ease. Did he need this kind of aggravation? Hell, no. He’d already had enough for a lifetime.

“So where’re you parked?”

She cleared her throat. “Go down this street and make a right at the stoplight.”

He tried not to chuckle at how far away she’d had to park in order to avoid paying a valet. She really did tickle him. Or maybe it wasn’t the cost. Maybe she was embarrassed about her old clunker of a car and had worried it would stall for the valet. Knucklehead. Why didn’t I insist on picking her up?

Everything was his fault. He’d let his physical attraction to Rikki dictate his actions without thinking things through. He should have gotten to know her better before asking her out. Truth was, they weren’t suited for each other. At this stage in life he was looking for someone to relax with, so why get involved with a woman who was a revolving door for foster-kids?

Rikki Johansen was a reckless-dressing, do-gooder, overly sensitive younger woman, and he’d had enough women giving him trouble. He’d been left to raise his two girls single-handedly when their mother, his ex-wife, had discovered how difficult it was to be a parent. One unstable female per lifetime was enough and Rikki was obviously a woman trying to make up for something—and just like with having children, he’d met his quota. No. He didn’t need any more problems. Next time he wanted a casual date, he’d ask Hannah.

Angry with the mess the date had become, he double-parked when they arrived at her car. He glanced over at her pixie silhouette, and against every ounce of etiquette he’d ever learned, a sudden urgent instinct took over.

The instant the car came to a stop, without further thought, he leaned across the bucket seat, took her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her lips. She went still under his kiss, but didn’t pull away. The moment drew out while he felt her soft, plump mouth beneath his. She leaned toward him, kissing him back, her hand placed lightly on his cheek. He’d made the right decision.

Every ounce of logic flew out of his brain as he pressed closer against her warm, moist lips. Did she feel the spark? The intensity of the moment jolted him. He backed off.

Her ruffled gaze met his in the dark of the car, searching for an explanation. He couldn’t say why he’d done it. She didn’t ask.

“Rikki, I…”

Rikki cleared her throat and reached for the doorhandle. “Thanks for dinner,” she said, breathless. The wind practically blew the door open for her. She jumped out so fast that she caught her necklaces and broke a strand, sending beads flying all over the street. She didn’t stop to pick up any of them. It took both hands and all of her hundred-pounds-soaking-wet bodily strength to close the door.

Dane got out of the driver’s side, only to have Rikki raise her hand to wave goodnight. She slid inside her car faster than he could utter a sound of protest, and slammed the door.

After two false starts, while she refused to glance at him, her engine finally turned over, making a ragged metal and muffler song.

Speechless and confused, he slipped back inside his car, completely aware of the taste of her lips on his and her lingering herbal scent. He drove up the street, and watched through his rear-view mirror to make sure her car continued to run. She made an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road and drove off in the other direction.

He shook his head. Women!

The light changed to green. Something sparkly in the passenger bucket seat caught his attention. Damn, a reminder of the woman who’d managed to confuse him—a short strand of Rikki’s fluorescent blue beads.

CHAPTER THREE

AT WORK mid-Sunday morning, Rikki’s radar warned her that Dane was in the vicinity of the orthopedic ward. She’d lain awake half the night trying to figure out why she’d gotten so skittish with him. He’d been kind, attentive, even entertaining, but the restaurant had been completely outside her comfort zone.

Her lifetime of being carted from one foster-home to another had taught her to never get too comfortable anywhere. With the few families she’d cared about, she’d had to quickly learn how to let go. After a while it had gotten easy, especially if she never let herself get involved in the first place.

And Dane’s kiss had struck like lightning, setting fire to her soul. Just the thought of it made her palms tingle. Out of self-defense she’d never allow herself to get comfortable with a man like him. She couldn’t trust where it might lead.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, she dashed into one of her patients’ rooms.

How could she ever face Dane again after last night? It wasn’t anything he’d said. It was more what he hadn’t said—the look he’d given when he’d first seen her in the restaurant lobby had told half of the story. The other half had come through when he hadn’t bothered to tell her she looked great or even good, but she had sure read that approving gaze he’d given when Dr. Young had shown up. Just once in her life she’d like to be accepted for who she was inside, a person of value, not how she was wrapped.

“Nurse?”

She quickly realized she’d been hovering at the patient’s door, watching and listening. “Oh! Hi, Mr. Tanaka.”

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