The light glittered in Nathan’s eyes as his knuckles lightly grazed her cheek. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea—”

“No. But all night I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you. I want to see how that sexy, sassy, smart mouth tastes.”

Her heart started to pound until she thought it would jump right out of her chest. “Oh, my—”

“I can’t help it.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. “I want to feel all the passion you put into being so tough.”

Words were trapped in Cindy’s throat, so she started to shake her head. The feel of his lips stopped her as surely as it shut down all rational thought …

Dear Reader,

I love fairy tales and have since I was a little girl. Sleeping Beauty. Cinderella. Beauty and the Beast. It wasn’t clear then, but reading those classics was the foundation for my career as a romance writer now.

I had so much fun tweaking the fairy-tale elements in Cindy’s Doctor Charming. The “ball” where she first talks to her hero is the beginning of the story, not the end. And, as every woman knows, the perfect fit of a shoe is worth its weight in happily-ever-afters. But for Cindy and Nathan it’s the broken heel on her borrowed pumps that allows fate to catch up and bring these two lonely people together in a way neither of them expects.

I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All the best,

Teresa Southwick

PS I love to hear from readers. Feel free to contact me through my website at www.teresasouthwick.com.

About the Author

TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon®.

Cindy’s Doctor Charming
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all of you who love happy endings as much as I do.

Chapter One

She was a fake and a fraud.

Cindy Elliott was walking, talking, breathing proof that not only was it possible to make a silk purse from a sow’s ear, but you also could take her out in public. So far no one had pointed and laughed at her pretending to be one of the exalted affluent. But the night was young and she was the queen of getting dumped on.

Famous-rich and anonymous-wealthy people were crammed into this ballroom. She was pretty sure that, unlike herself, none of them had won their seat at this thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser with a raffle ticket. Any second she expected the riffraff police to see through her disguise and throw her out.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to her, but it was not high on her list of things to do. Her plan was to enjoy every moment of this night. Take in every detail and let the memories brighten the daily grind as she dug herself out of the deep financial hole she’d ended up in after trusting a man.

Cindy grew up in Las Vegas but this was the first time she’d ever been to a shindig at Caesar’s Palace. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead and silver light trickled down on white tablecloths and somehow made the fragrant arrangements of fresh, vibrantly colored flowers smell even better. Candles flickered but paled in comparison to the views visible from floor-to-ceiling windows of the neon skyline outside on the Strip.

She wished more people were looking at it instead of her, more specifically male people. A lot of the dapper men in dark suits and tuxedos were staring at her as she snaked her way through the crush of bodies. She felt conspicuous and self-conscious in her strapless, champagne-colored cocktail dress. It was knee length, and now was not a good time to wish for more material.

Finally she reached the perimeter of the room and found the table number that corresponded to the one on her invitation. There were eight chairs and all of them were empty. She decided to sit down and take the strain off her borrowed shoes, minding her friend’s warning not to test the limits of a Super Glue repair on a four-inch heel.

Moments later someone appeared in her peripheral vision and a familiar deep voice said, “Is this seat taken?”

Cindy looked up. The face matched the voice as she’d feared it would. Nathan Steele, MD. Dr. Charming himself, she thought sarcastically. He always made her think of Hugh Jackman—tall and broad-shouldered, with hazel eyes and dark brown hair. It pained her to admit, even to herself, that his traditional black tuxedo made him look very handsome—for a bad-tempered, arrogant, egotistical physician.

After a couple seconds of him standing there expectantly, the message translated from her eyes to her brain that he was waiting for an answer. Glancing at the seven empty seats, she briefly thought about saying that her date was sitting there, then abandoned the idea. She might be a pathetic loser who was a really bad judge of men, but she wasn’t a liar.

“No,” she finally said. “That seat isn’t taken.”

He smiled, then lowered his excellent butt into the chair beside hers. “Isn’t that lucky?”

“You have no idea.” She looked at him, waiting for the inevitable moment when he recognized her as the incompetent from Mercy Medical Center’s housekeeping department. The same employee he’d chastised earlier that day for something that wasn’t her fault. The indignity and unfairness still smarted.

“Would you like a drink?” The tone was pleasant, deep and sexy. Definitely not his icy-cold, all-business hospital voice.

“Yes.” It was the least he could do. “A glass of red wine would be lovely.”

He stood. “Don’t let anyone take this seat.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dream being the operative word. Nathan Steele was walking, talking female fantasy. Definite hero material. A handsome doctor whose mission in life was to save babies who came into this world too early. Infants who needed every trick in his medical bag to survive outside a mother’s protective womb while their not-ready-to-be born bodies caught up. How could a woman not seriously crush on a man like that?

The answer was simple. Pretty to look at, difficult to get along with. Cindy didn’t need the aggravation. She was still paying for the last wrong guy at the wrong time. She was a twenty-seven-year-old college student because she’d lost not only her bank account but money she hadn’t even earned yet to a good-looking man masquerading as a hero. She literally couldn’t afford another stupid man mistake.

A few minutes later Dr. Charming set a glass of red wine in front of her and a whiskey neat at his own place before settling beside her again.

“I’m Dr. Steele—Nathan.” He looked at her, obviously waiting for her to respond with an introduction. When she said nothing, he added, “And you are?”

Surprised and annoyed in equal parts, she thought. The fact that he didn’t recognize her was a surprise. It also annoyed her.

“Cindy Elliott,” she said, waiting for the “aha” light to shine in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Cindy.” He held his hand out.

She wanted to tell him they’d already met. More than once their paths had crossed in the hospital. But then she put her fingers into his palm and a ripple of awareness danced up her arm. He held babies weighing hardly more than a pound, tiny little things that easily fit into this hand. It was warm and strong and capable.

Hero worship threatened until she remembered that doing battle for babies barely alive didn’t give him license to be a bastard to everyone else.

“Dr. Steele,” she said with as much cool reserve as she could muster.

“Call me Nathan.”

“All right. Nathan.”

He studied her intently and finally said, “Where do I know you from?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she saw him almost every day. Granted, the disposable, white “bunny suit” she wore for her housekeeping job in the neonatal intensive care unit made her fairly anonymous. But still …

She was about to tell him, then something stopped her. The devil made her do it. “I look familiar?”

“Yes.”

Maybe she’d finally caught a break. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“Quite a lovely face.”

And now it was red. How did she respond to that? “Thank you.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met.” He sipped his drink. “Did you have a baby in the NICU?”

Heaven forbid. A baby was the last thing she needed. Although that would require sex and she hadn’t had any for a very long time. “I’ve never had a baby.”

“So you’re here at the fundraiser out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I won a seat at the table with a raffle ticket,” she said honestly.

“Right.” His mouth curved up at the corners.

“I’m not kidding.” The amused expression on his face said he didn’t believe her. Honesty was always the best policy. “There’s no way I could afford to come to something like this otherwise.”

“Of course.” His gaze lowered to the spot where the champagne-colored piping on her dress criss-crossed over her breasts. For a moment, intensity flared in his eyes and then amusement returned. “Raffle ticket. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that.”

“It’s the absolute truth.”

“Uh huh. Who’s your stylist?”

Stylist? She almost laughed. No way could she afford something like that. “Not a stylist. They’re called friends. Fairy godmothers.”

“So they pulled off a miracle with a magic wand?” One dark eyebrow rose.

“As a matter of fact …” She took a sip of wine and warmed to the subject. “I wasn’t going to come, but my friends talked me into it. I borrowed the dress, shoes and bag from Flora, Fauna and Merryweather.”

“Who?”

“They’re characters from an animated fairy tale. Surely you saw it when you were a kid.”

He shook his head and all hint of laughter disappeared. “No.”

“You probably don’t remember. It’s a classic children’s movie.”

“That explains it. I was never a child.”

The sort of lost expression on his face pulled at her heart and she fought the feeling down, mentally stomped the stuffing out of it. Life was hard and then you met someone who made things harder. Not happening to her again. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“It doesn’t require a response.” He shrugged. “Just a fact.”

“Sad fact.” Those were two words she wanted back. He didn’t need her sympathy and she didn’t want to feel sorry for him. But tell that to her bleeding heart, which always got her into trouble. Used to get her in trouble. Past tense. She was a reformed soft touch.

“What was your childhood like?” he asked.

“There wasn’t a lot of money, but my brother and I didn’t know anything different.” She thought back to the time before her mother died. “We hung out with friends. Had sleepovers. Pizza and movies. Carefree.”

He nodded. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.” She was going to be sorry for asking, but she couldn’t stop herself. “What was yours like? You might not have thought you were a child but everyone starts out that way.”

“I was more what you’d call an unaccompanied minor.” He took a sip from his glass and drained the contents. “On my own a lot.”

“Only child?”

He nodded. “You had a brother?”

“Still do. He’s in college. In California.” And she was struggling to keep him there because it was her fault the money her father had saved for his education was gone. “I miss him.”

“And that detour into childhood was really off the subject.” His puzzled expression was back.

“What subject would that be?” The question was just a stall. She should just tell him that he knew her from the hospital. She worked in housekeeping. But some perverse part of her wanted a little payback for his earlier temper tantrum.

“Who are you?”

“Cindy Elliott,” she answered.

“So you said.” He studied her face until shivers of awareness made her want to squirm. Finally he shook his head. “But I still can’t figure out why I know you. Where do you work?”

“Mercy Medical Center.” That would jog his memory. Again she waited for the “aha” moment.

“Really?” Instead of recognition, his puzzled frown deepened. “What department?”

“Guess.” She took a large swallow of wine.

“Nursing.”

She shook her head.

“Human Resources?”

“No.” She twirled the long stem of the glass on the table in front of her.

“Dietary?”

“You mean Nutritional Services?” she asked.

“That was politically incorrect of me. Yes, that’s what I meant.”

She shook her head. “Nope, don’t work there either.”

“Okay. I give up.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” If he gave up that easily, there were a lot of babies who wouldn’t be alive today. Welcome to a classic conundrum. She was invisible to him. In all fairness, at the hospital he was totally focused on his tiny patients and got points for that. But he’d actually talked to her, chastised her really, for something she hadn’t done. How could she admire him so much at the same time she found him to be a pain in the neck?

“What does that mean?” he asked.

That she was an idiot. “I’ve seen you in action in the NICU.”

“But you’re not a nurse.”

“I’m an administrative intern at Mercy Medical Center. In addition to—other things,” she said vaguely.

Before he could answer, an announcement was made for everyone to find their tables and the program would begin. Cindy was grateful for the distraction as the seats around them were filled and introductions made. She talked to the people on her right and tried to ignore the man on her left. Not so easy when their shoulders brushed and thighs bumped. Every stroke sent a surge of heat through her.

She smiled politely, laughed when appropriate and planned to slip out at the first opportunity.

Nathan had expected this dinner to be acutely boring speeches and barely edible rubber chicken. A yawn. He’d been wrong. Not about the speeches and chicken. But he’d never felt less like yawning.

That was because of the mysterious Cindy Elliott.

The words from a song came to mind, about seeing a stranger across a crowded room. The shimmer of her blond hair had first caught his attention. Her slender curves in the strapless, shiny beige dress were sexy and so damn hot he needed about an hour in a subzero shower.

He’d have followed her anywhere, but when she sat at his table, he wondered if somehow the god of luck had finally come down on his side. The certainty that he’d seen her somewhere now seemed less important than getting her attention away from the woman she’d been talking to on her right side. All through the endless meal she’d industriously ignored him and that was about to end. A quartet had set up to play music and people were moving to the wooden dance floor in the center of the room.

Finally there was a break in the gabfest. He leaned close and said near her ear, “Would you like to dance?”

She met his gaze for several moments and finally said, “I don’t think so.”

It wasn’t ego that caused his surprise at the smackdown. It was that women simply didn’t do that. He was forever being introduced by matchmaking mothers who were trying to hook up the successful doctor with their daughter or niece. Or a friend’s daughter or niece. Or second cousin once removed. Women liked him. And he liked women.

There was never a challenge involved. He rubbed his neck as that sank in. Maybe there was a little ego mixed in with the surprise.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Why what?”

“Don’t you want to dance?”

Her eyes narrowed. They were the color of cinnamon and snapping with intelligence. He found himself eagerly anticipating her response.

“I need a reason?”

“It would be polite.”

“Not if I had to explain about a prosthetic leg. Or a pronounced limp from a serious childhood soccer injury.”

Like almost every other man in the room, he’d watched the sexy sway of her hips as she’d glided gracefully to the table. The only imminent injury was the rising level of testosterone threatening to blow the top of his head off.

“Do you have any physical limitations?” he asked.

“No.”

“Okay.” Before she made him navigate more speed bumps, he said, “And you know how to dance?”

“See, that’s the thing. Mumsy and Daddy begged me to go to cotillion to smooth out my rough edges—”

“Mumsy?”

She smiled. “Yes. My über-wealthy parents desperately wanted to be here tonight but they simply couldn’t tear themselves away from the south of France.”

“Über-wealthy?” That’s not what she’d told him before. “Just exactly how much did you pay for that lucky raffle ticket?”

Amusement curved the corners of her full, tempting lips. “So you actually were paying attention.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Oh, please. Do women really fall for that line?”

“Yes. Although usually a line isn’t involved.”

“It’s a darn shame.” She eased away, a pitying expression on her face.

“What?”

“You should really do something about your self-confidence. Surgery. Rehab. There must be some treatment. The miracles of modern medicine—”

“Aren’t miracles,” he finished.

“No?”

“It’s science.”

“Really?” There was a spark of interest now.

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t believe in miracles?” She rested her arm on the table as she angled her body toward him.

“I never underestimate the power of the human spirit. But a miracle?” He shook his head. “If I can’t see or touch it, I don’t believe it exists.”

“What about love?”

Oddly enough, he was pretty sure the question wasn’t Cindy being flirtatious. If an invitation to his bed was her goal, she’d be in his arms on the dance floor right now. Instead of having her soft curves pressed against him and the scent of her skin snarling his senses, they were having an existential discussion regarding the reality of love.

“I don’t believe in it.”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked.

“No.”

In the NICU he’d seen worried parents who almost literally willed a tiny scrap of humanity born too soon, a being that they’d only just met face to face, to live. Was that love? He didn’t know. It hadn’t existed in his life. There’d been buckets of money that his father spent copious amounts of time making. His mother got tired of trying to get her husband’s attention and turned to her “projects.”

Nathan had tried his hand at love. He’d married a woman he liked and respected. But there was no doubt in his mind that if she hadn’t died in a car accident, their trial separation would have turned into an amicable divorce. He missed her, as his best friend. Nothing deeper than that existed in his world. He had no frame of reference for love.

Enough with the self-examination, he thought. He was a doctor, trained to act swiftly and decisively in an emergency. Hesitation could cost lives. And as Cindy had pointed out, his self-confidence needed immediate resuscitation.

He stood, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We’re wasting a perfectly good waltz.”

He’d expected some rebellion in the ranks, but apparently he had surprise on his side. She didn’t pull away but followed almost meekly as he led her through the maze of tables littered with half-eaten cheesecake and hastily abandoned cloth napkins.

On the dance floor he slid his arm around her waist and nestled her against him. She wasn’t as tall as he’d thought. It was probably that big attitude of hers generating the illusion. He was used to willowy women, but he could rest his chin on the top of Cindy’s head and somehow the fit felt just right. Despite her tongue-in-cheek comments about prosthetics and pronounced limps, she was light on her feet and had no problem following his lead. It felt as if they’d been dancing together for years.

Nathan gave brief thought to making conversation, then decided if he kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t put his foot in it. The sweet fragrance of her skin filled his head, more intoxicating than any alcohol he’d ever tasted. Thoughts of her in his arms somewhere private, with the sexy, strapless dress on the floor around her feet was temptation with a capital T. He was already planning the strategy to make that happen because it had been hard enough to get her in his arms for a dance.

The music ended and he was about to make his pitch when she backed away. The almost stricken expression on her face puzzled him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I have to go.”

“It’s not late,” he protested.

“It is for me.”

“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Your car turns into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Something like that.” She did an about-face, then slipped away through the crush of bodies still on the dance floor.

“Wait.” He knew she heard, because she lifted her hand in a wave as she kept going.

The crowd was thinner than when he’d first arrived tonight, but he had trouble maintaining a visual of her. She kept disappearing because almost everyone was taller. Outside the ballroom in the wide, carpeted hall people milled around. Nathan looked left, then right and couldn’t see her.

Instinct had him hurrying toward the bank of escalators leading to the ground level. When he reached the bottom, the crush of bodies parted and there she was, one foot bare and holding a high-heeled pump in her hand. The heel dangled at a dangerous angle. Literally a lucky break for him.

“Looks like you could use some help.”

She looked up, her expression rueful. “Not unless you can surgically reattach this.”

“I could carry you,” he suggested.

She made a great show of assessing him from the chest up. “You probably could. And that would be very gallant. But I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Despite the spunky words, she put her hand on his arm for balance as she removed the other shoe.

“So you’re determined to go?”

“Even more now.” The look she turned on him was wry. “I have no shoes.”

“Not a problem for me.”

“That makes one of us,” she said.

“Okay. I’ll let you go quietly if you give me your phone number.”

She blinked up at him, and for a split second the idea seemed to tempt her. Then she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“You don’t want me to call you?”

“Give the man a gold star.” Regret flickered in her eyes although she probably didn’t know it was there. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the interest, but women like me don’t date men like you.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Okay, how about this? My parents aren’t in the south of France or even north Las Vegas for that matter. It was the truth when I told you there’s no money in my family.”

“I believe you. That’s not why—”

“Look Dr. Can’t-take-no-for-an-answer. I don’t want you to call me. You’re a jerk at work. You yell at the help. You have a terrible reputation and no one likes you, including me. And everyone thinks you’re inflexible.”

He laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“If it’s not already clear, I’d like to see you again.”

Something flashed in her eyes when she said “Yeah, well, we all want things we can’t have.”

Before he could stop her, she turned and vanished in the crowd, ending his lucky streak. The most interesting woman he’d ever met had just shut him down.

At least he knew her name. It was a place to start.

Chapter Two

Tired and cranky the morning after her big night, Cindy and her “clean cart” rode the elevator to Mercy Medical Center’s second floor. If she’d known her raffle ticket to the ball included a sleepless night because of Dr. Charming, spending the evening at home in her slippers and sweats would have won out over borrowed finery and broken heels. She still couldn’t believe that Nathan Steele, the legendary NICU doc, had asked for her phone number. If he’d known she worked in housekeeping at the hospital, the fairy tale would certainly have ended differently.

The elevator arrived at her stop and the doors whispered open. She pushed the cart, holding a mop, trash receptacle and trigger bottles filled with antiseptic spray, down the hall. After rounding the corner, she came to a screeching halt. Nathan was standing right outside the neonatal intensive care unit.

He was looking at his phone, probably a BlackBerry or whatever was the latest expensive communication technology crammed into a square case barely visible to the naked eye. She wouldn’t know. Her cell phone was old, her calling plan the cheapest available on the market, only for emergencies. Which running into Dr. Steele definitely was, but nothing an old, cheap cell phone could handle.

The good news was that he hadn’t seen her yet. She could turn around and hide someplace until he was gone, but there was work to do. She was already gowned in the white, paper coverall with the snaps marching up the front that the unit required. Except for the disposable blue booties over her sneakers, she looked like a bunny. If only this uniform included a bag to put over her head, he wouldn’t know her because her ID badge was hidden beneath the protective clothing.

Then she got a grip and realized he overlooked her on a daily basis. There was no reason to believe that had changed because the night before he’d flirted with her outrageously and asked a woman he didn’t recognize for her number. The dancing had been really nice, too.

With head held high, she walked past him and stopped at the double-door entrance to the NICU. The cart wasn’t allowed inside. With all the sensitive equipment, electrical cords and highly skilled personnel hurrying between the isolettes, there wasn’t room to spare for the clunky cart. Housekeeping paraphernalia was necessary but not even in the same league with the pricey, sensitive and technical tools that saved the babies.

Cindy picked up one of the trigger bottles and was just about to approach the automatic opening door when she felt someone behind her. The hair at her nape prickled and her skin flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the hot suit. She could be wrong about the awareness, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t. The same thing had happened once before. Specifically, last night.

“Cindy?”

It was him. Not only that, he’d called her by name and as far as she knew he hadn’t looked at her. She turned, bracing for this unprecedented happening. And there was Dr. Charming with his meticulously mussed hair and swoon-worthy square jaw. He was dressed in scrubs, which weren’t particularly appealing, except that he was wearing them.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked.

“I recognized your perfume.”

Well, damn. Why did he have to be a smooth talker on top of everything else? “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Interesting development because last night you had all the answers.”

If he really believed that, she’d put on a pretty good performance. “About that—”

“So this is where I know you from.”

“Scene of the crime.” She’d let him connect whatever dots he saw fit to explain why she’d made him guess her identity.

“Crime being the pertinent word. It wasn’t my finest hour. I owe you an apology.”

At the speed of light he’d figured out that she was the housekeeper he’d chastised the day before. Pigs must be flying outside the window because this was an unexpected and unprecedented turn of events.

Doctors never apologized to housekeepers, partly because they were the ones who cleaned up after the high and mighty and just disappeared into the landscape.

“Excuse me, but I could have sworn you used the word apology.”

“I suppose your hostility is logical.”

“Really? You think?” She rested her free hand on her hip. “Maybe because I was found guilty without benefit of a fair trial? I didn’t touch that baby in the NICU.”

He nodded. “I saw movement. It was a peripheral vision thing—”

“NICU housekeeping 101—never touch the babies. Stifle any rogue maternal instincts and beat them into submission. It was the first thing I was taught and I learned my lesson well.”

“There’s a good reason for the rule. The babies are incredibly fragile. It’s tempting to want to hold them because the heat shield on the Giraffe is up. For a good reason. The neonates need a lot of attention and we need fast and easy access to them.”

She knew the Giraffe was the commonly used nickname for the highly specialized isolette that could move up, down and other directions just by pushing a button.

“I know how frail they are,” she said. “I understand that the goal is to keep the environment like a mother’s womb, warm and quiet. And that begs the question—If calm is what you want, why did you yell at me?”

“Technically, I didn’t yell. My tone was moderated. At best, forceful.” Her exaggerated eye roll didn’t stop him. “And I pulled you aside to the nurse’s station, away from the baby.”

“And that makes it so much better,” she said, lifting the floodgates on her sarcasm. “That way the nurses could really hear you unreasonably humiliate me.”

“It was an overreaction.” His hazel eyes turned more gold than green and went all puppy dog. “Would it help to explain that the little guy was just born? He weighs a little more than three pounds and it’s touch and go. I was worried and took it out on you.”

“That’s something I never got from the job description or orientation. Nowhere in my employee handbook does it say that my function is to absorb a physician’s deflected tension or anger.” She could tell he was listening and letting her vent, but that didn’t sit well or turn off the mad. “Housekeepers aren’t here to be stress relievers for anyone higher up on the food chain.”

He really looked sorry. “That’s not fair.”

Probably not, but she was weakening and that couldn’t happen.

“No one ever said life would be fair, Dr. Steele—”

“Nathan. Remember?”

She was trying not to. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

“She wasn’t around much for heart-to-heart chats. I pretty much figured that one out on my own, though.” An edgy tone crept into his voice. “Look, Cindy, I said I was sorry—”

“No. You really didn’t. I heard the word apology and a detailed justification for why you went off on me for no good reason. Not once, though, did I hear you say the word sorry.”

“Well, I am.” He saw her look and added, “Sorry, that is. I was wrong.”

“Wow, the world has gone mad. The w word actually passed your lips. As I live and breathe.” Her skin started to tingle when she mentioned his lips and it didn’t help that he kept staring at her. “I’ll be sure not to spread that around. Who’d believe me anyway?”

“While we’re setting the record straight, I feel it’s only fair to point out that you were wrong, too.”

“About what?” Her whole life consisted of being wrong one too many times, so a clarification was necessary.

“Me,” he said. “I’ll admit sometimes I can be a jerk at work. After all we’ve established that I did chastise you unjustly. But I take exception to the reputation remark. Mine is impeccable. And I’m not inflexible.”

“Okay, then. Color me corrected.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Right. What else have you got?”

“People do like me.”

By people she was pretty sure he meant women. It would be far too easy to be one of them and that simply couldn’t happen. She was too close to getting what she’d worked so hard for. There was light at the end of a long, dark financial and educational tunnel and she couldn’t afford not to focus on either of those fronts now.

Eyes straight ahead. No distractions; no detours.

“There’s probably some truth to that,” she agreed. “Someone undoubtedly does like you. File it under ‘good to know.’ Now, I’ve got work to do—”

“As do I. It’s time to check on Rocky.”

“Who?”

“The little guy. From yesterday. How could you possibly forget when you took one for the team?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“My story and I’m sticking to it.” He smiled, and the power of it was awesome. “It’s what the nurses call him. Somehow the nicknames just seem to stick.”

“Rocky. A fighter.” That tugged at her heart big time and she needed her space, stat, before she bought into him being a bona fide hero even after yesterday when he’d made her feel like the lowest of the low. He fought for the most defenseless and delicate of God’s creatures. How long could she sustain this weak, borderline unjustifiable case of self-righteous indignation? How did she protect herself from him?

“Okay, then,” she said, starting to turn away. His hand on her arm froze the movement. She could feel the warmth of his fingers and it had nothing to do with the protective suit keeping in body heat.

“Wait. There’s one more thing.”

There always was. How many ways did she not need this in her life? She forced herself to meet his gaze and braced to repel the reaction. “What?”

“Your phone number.”

“What about it?” That was a stall. By definition one needed a number to dial to contact someone else on a telephone.

What she didn’t know was why he wanted hers. Surely he didn’t really want to call her. She’d admit to having the tiniest little crush on him after last night. Sleep had finally come when she’d realized that it wasn’t really something to worry about because they were on completely different rungs of the hospital social ladder. But now he knew exactly who she was and had brought up the subject again. What was up with that?

“I’m asking for your phone number,” he patiently explained.

“I don’t give out that information,” she said.

“Why?”

“Why do you want it?”

Now he rolled his eyes. “I’d like to call you sometime.”

“So you can yell at me after hours, too?”

“Of course not.” His gaze narrowed. “Has anyone ever talked to you about this acute flair you have for the dramatic? And holding a grudge?”

“Not recently.”

“Look, I’d like your number so I can ask—”

“Don’t say it.”

He moved in a completely different orbit and she existed in the real world. Under normal circumstances there wasn’t a chance in hell that their worlds would collide, but that changed last night and an alternate reality was initiated.

Now he was trying to change the order of the universe. When the last man in her life cleaned out her savings and maxed out her existing credit cards and ones he took out in her name, she learned the hard lesson that men have ulterior motives. The only unknown was how much it would cost her. She absolutely would not be a victim of whatever it was that Nathan Steele was planning.

“Why shouldn’t I say it?” There was a charming, confident look on his face.

“Because yesterday you only made me feel like an idiot. If I gave you my number now, that would make it true.”

She walked into the NICU before he could respond. There was nothing left to do except work through the bittersweet, wistful feeling inside that made her wish a man hadn’t screwed up her life. Then she might be tempted to take a chance that another man wasn’t going to do the same thing.

Nathan wasn’t sure why he cruised the cafeteria at lunchtime instead of going to the doctor’s dining room. Then he saw Cindy Elliott sitting by herself and the motivation for his detour became clear. It was an excuse to talk to her. Damage control for his unreasonable behavior, he told himself. But himself wasn’t quite buying into that story. After her over-the-top reaction to his apology for unreasonable behavior, he’d turned over the unreasonable behavior crown to her. Yet he couldn’t stop his own curiosity at her response.

He grabbed a tray and stepped into line, then picked up a ready-made turkey sandwich and a bottle of water. After paying for the items, he looked around, half-expecting her to be gone. She had a way of running out on him. This time she was still sitting alone at a table for two by the wall. Convenient.

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbled to himself.

Sunshine leaked through the windows from the hospital’s dome tower above this room, allowing the light in. The hum of voices buzzed around him. Balancing the rectangular green tray, he snaked his way through the Formica-topped tables and metal chairs with orange plastic seats.

He stopped beside her and did a replay of what he’d asked last night. “Is this seat taken?”

Her eyes narrowed on him when she looked up. “What if I said I was expecting someone?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

Without waiting for permission, he set down his tray and sat in the chair opposite her. He sort of missed the “bunny suit.” Now she was wearing the work uniform of cotton pants and dark-blue scrubs top with Environmental Services embroidered on the breast. In this light, her eyes were even more interesting—darker brown with flecks of gold. Definitely cinnamon. Spicy. Interesting. Not unlike the lady herself.

“So, how’s it going?” He unwrapped the plastic on his sandwich and took a bite.

“Until now there was only one black mark on the day. In the last five seconds that just doubled.” She set her spoon down. “Why are you here?”

“I’m hungry?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. You could be having lobster, caviar and truffles in the doctor’s dining room.”

“Actually I think it’s pheasant under glass and baked Alaska day. I’m not a big fan of either,” he said.

“Again, not my point. You’re here with the peasants. Why is that?”

“Maybe I find the environment here more interesting.” He finished the first half of his sandwich and glanced at her empty bowl with wrappers piled up in it. “Soup and crackers isn’t much for lunch.”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Why?” Nathan twisted the top off his water bottle and took a drink.

“By definition diet implies trying to drop a few pounds.” Her tone was conversational, but mistrust lurked in her eyes.

“Again I ask—why?” He wagged a warning finger when she opened her mouth to answer. “Don’t give me the snarky, sarcastic response that I know is on the tip of your tongue. You’re not overweight.”

“Why else would I go on a diet?” She leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. The classic stubborn, you’re-not-getting-anything-out-of-me pose.

“All well and good for someone who needs to shape up, but you don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I saw you in that dress last night.”

The sexy, sensuous image would be imprinted on his mind forever. And he’d held her in his arms. She had curves in all the right places and not one of those places needed to slim down. The memory of her body pressed against his sent a flood of testosterone surging through him. And it wasn’t the first time he’d reacted to her that way.

“Why are you really eating this?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Good question. Humor me.”

“Would you believe I have irritable bowel syndrome and this is a bland diet?”

“No.”

She was irritable, but that wasn’t a medical diagnosis. It had something to do with him personally. Just a feeling, but he was pretty sure this snappish attitude had a lot to do with him not recognizing her, especially after coming down on her for something she hadn’t done. And since his apology hadn’t produced any discernible softening in her, that cranked up his curiosity.

“Okay.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “What if I’m still full from last night?”

“Doubtful. You didn’t finish the rubber chicken or even touch the prefab cheesecake.” He would know. He’d noticed that, along with everything else about her. She was quick-witted, smart and sexy. A triple threat.

She sipped from the straw in her iced tea, then asked, “Are you going to let this go any time soon?”

“That’s not my current plan, no.”

She sighed. “If you must know, I’m always on a very tight budget the week before payday. Something you probably have no frame of reference for.”

“Budgets? Or payday?”

“Either. Both.”

“I get the concept, but you’re right. It’s not something I had to deal with.”

“Had?”

“I didn’t have a childhood, but not because money was a problem.”

He’d had his hands full coping with family issues. And thinking about that could put multiple black marks on his day. Cindy, however, could brighten up an entire room. He’d found that out last night. And she was much more interesting than memories of the clinically dysfunctional Steele family.

“So,” he said, rolling the empty plastic from his sandwich into a ball. “The south of France with Mumsy isn’t in the budget?”

Her mouth twitched. She wanted to laugh but was holding back. “About that—”

“No need to explain.”

“In my small way, I was getting even with you for yelling at me.”

“I get that. What’s your excuse for being crabby now?” he asked. “Lack of sleep? Staying out too late last night?”

“You got me. Hobnobbing with the rich and famous wore me out. I stayed up way past my bedtime.”

And speaking of beds, an image of her in his with twisted sheets tightened a knot of need inside him that had started fewer than twenty-four hours ago when he’d seen her walk like sex in motion across a crowded room. Talking with her, discovering her sharp mind and keen sense of humor had only intensified the feeling. Then she’d really piqued his curiosity by abruptly walking out after cutting short their dance.

“It seemed like you were having fun. Why did you leave the party?” he asked.

“It was time to go.” Something in her eyes said that wasn’t the whole truth. “Now I’ve got a question for you—why are you stalking me?”

“That’s harsh,” he teased. “Take last night—”

“You mean when you didn’t have a clue who I was?”

“No offense,” he said, “But last night you weren’t wearing the NICU jumpsuit.”

“It’s a legitimate question, Doctor—”

“Nathan, remember?”

The look on her face said she remembered it all and wasn’t happy that she did. “My point is that a physician rubbing elbows with the peons here at Mercy Medical Center just isn’t deliberately done. So the stalking remark is not out of line.”

“It is if I just want to get to know you. And I do. We work in the same place and it’s inevitable that our paths would cross. Which is the reason I’d like your phone number.”

“I don’t really get the connection.” She stood and picked up her tray. Over her shoulder as she was walking away, she said, “And you should just let it go, Doctor.”

Nathan knew she was right. He should let it go.

He honestly didn’t understand why he couldn’t. The average woman would be happy to go out with him. Clearly Cindy wasn’t average, which could explain part of her appeal. The other part was curiosity. She wouldn’t even give him a chance, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t about him chastising her.

Cindy Elliott was quite the mystery and he wasn’t finished trying to solve her. He’d see her stubborn and raise her a healthy dose of persistence.

Chapter Three

Cindy had clocked in from lunch after her unexpected encounter with Nathan and was now back to work. The afternoon stop in the NICU was next on her work sheet. Other than Dr. Charming going out of his way to talk to her in the cafeteria, it promised to be an ordinary afternoon. Then everything changed. And it all happened so fast.

One minute Cindy was running a long-handled dusting tool over the linoleum floor, the next Nathan was there with a tiny baby. He was calmly issuing orders like a general in the thick of battle.

The common sense move was to get out of the way even if directions to do just that in the event of a medical crisis hadn’t been drilled into her. Cindy had been employed at Mercy Medical Center for nearly two years and had seen her share of medical situations but never one involving Nathan Steele. She knew what he did, had seen his medical practice partner in action, but she had never actually witnessed him saving a little life. And she had a bad feeling that her life was about to change. She couldn’t help thinking that darn raffle ticket had somehow altered fate to put her in his orbit.

From her protected position against the wall she could hear the team talking and knew the baby boy was a twenty-five-weeker born just minutes ago by C-section. That made him about four months premature. He was already intubated, and they were using a bag to force air into his lungs. The person bagging the baby was her friend, Harlow Marcelli, who worked in the Respiratory Therapy department.

Cindy couldn’t really see what the staff was doing to the baby, but Nathan was taller than everyone and the strain and intensity on his face were clearly visible. When bodies parted, she noticed that he was using two fingers on the tiny chest, compressions for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

After listening with the stethoscope, he said, “Let’s get him on a ventilator. IV line stat and electrodes for EKG. I need to surf him.”

She made a mental note to ask what that meant.

Meanwhile, the troops moved to follow his orders, and moments later there were tubes and machines in place. Tracings on the monitors were blue, green and pink—each to distinguish a different function to be watched.

“I need blood gases,” Nathan said.

Instantly Harlow moved, like a runner off the block at the sound of the starting pistol. In a few minutes, Nathan looked at the readings and nodded.

“He’s a fighter. I think the little gladiator is stable for the moment. Watch him. I want to know if anything changes. I’ll be right outside.” He looked at the staff who’d fought with him. “Great job, everyone. I’m going to talk to the dad. Mom’s still in recovery.”

Cindy moved slightly to her right, to see through the double glass doors and out into the hall. The father was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, blonde and blue eyed, with terror all over his face. She couldn’t hear what was said, but as Nathan talked some of the fear drained from the man’s expression, leaving your garden-variety worry in its wake. When the man glanced over, she could also see love for the tiny little life fighting to survive. The gladiator, Nathan had called him.

Just last night he’d told her that if he couldn’t see or touch something, he didn’t believe it existed. How could he not see the love in that father’s eyes?

“He’s pretty awesome, isn’t he?”

Cindy jumped at the sound of her friend’s voice, then turned. “You startled me. I didn’t know you were there.”

“Yeah. I can see you’re distracted.” Harlow Marcelli was a pretty, green-eyed brunette and the fairy godmother who’d loaned her the patched-up pumps for the fundraiser.

“Not preoccupied. Just doing my job,” she defended.

“Yeah.” Her friend glanced to where the two men were still talking. “If your job is to watch Dr. Hot Stuff.”

“Not my day to keep an eye on him.” Cindy deliberately turned her back to the doors. “No matter how many times I see you do your thing, it never fails to amaze me. You were pretty awesome just now.”

“Thanks.” Harlow slid a glance over her shoulder at the isolette surrounded by state-of-the-art equipment. “He’s not out of the woods yet. I hope he’s a fighter like the doc said.”

“Me, too. The gladiator.” She smiled.

“The staff usually gives the preemies nicknames,” Harlow explained, echoing what Nathan had already told her. “Something inspirational to live up to.”

“Live being the operative word. It surprised me coming from Nathan—” She stopped when the other woman gave her a funny look.

“Since when do you call him by his first name?”

“Oh, that—”

“Yeah, that.”

Cindy glanced over her shoulder where he still stood in the hall. “We sat at the same table at the fundraiser last night.”

“And?”

“The glue on your shoe didn’t hold up.”

“Later with the shoes news.” Harlow’s green eyes snapped with impatience. “When did you start calling Dr. Charming Nathan?”

“Last night. When he asked me to.”

“Why?” Her friend added, “Did he ask you to, I mean?”

“Probably because he didn’t know who I was.”

“I need more information than that.”

Cindy gripped the long handle of her dusting device. “He sat next to me, bought me a drink and said I looked familiar, but he couldn’t place me.”

“He didn’t recognize you?” Surprise jumped into Harlow’s eyes.

“Not even when I made him guess.”

“You didn’t,” her friend scoffed.

“I did.” Cindy had her reasons and it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Hot damn,” Harlow said. “I can’t wait to tell Whitney and Mary Frances that we literally transformed you into a mystery woman. That’s so cool.”

“Not really. When I saw him this morning, he figured it out.”

When he smelled her perfume. That memory made her stomach do a funny little shimmy and she told herself it was only because something that sensitive was out of character for Nathan Steele.

“Was he mad?”

It would have been easier if he had been. Then giving him a hard time would have been justified and not just turned her into a roaring witch.

“No. He took it well. Even apologized to me for overreacting and yelling at me in here yesterday. Then he asked for my phone number again,” Cindy explained.

The other woman’s jaw dropped. “Again?”

“I refused to give it to him when he asked me last night. After he caught up with me. And he only did because your shoe broke.”

“He chased you?” Harlow folded her arms over her chest. “This gets better and better.”

“It was time for me to go.”

“Apparently he didn’t agree.”

“That’s just because my identity was still in question and that intrigued him,” Cindy said. “Sort of like when a superhero assumes an alter ego. It’s the whole don’t-I-know-her-from-somewhere? thing.”

“Then what was his excuse for asking again today?”

“He’s one of those guys who can’t take no for an answer.”

“And why should he? Women in this hospital are taking numbers in the line to snap him up.” Warning slid into her friend’s eyes. “Let him call. You don’t have to commit to anything. And I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Preaching to the choir, H,” Cindy said. “I don’t have time for the games.”

Just then Nathan walked back into the unit to check on the baby.

“Gotta go,” Harlow said.

Cindy turned away and finished her job in the NICU, then slipped out the door. Her clean cart was against the wall in the hall. She was still putting away her cleaning supplies when she heard the doors behind her whisper open. It could have been anyone, but not just anyone made the hair at her nape prickle. Only Nathan did that and the development was recent. And, annoyingly enough, recurring.

“Cindy—”

She turned around. “Did I forget to do something in the unit?”

“No. I just—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I saw you talking to Harlow.”

“She’s my friend. One of the fairy godmothers, actually.”

“Good to know her talents are more than just being one of the best respiratory techs here at Mercy Medical.”

“Speaking of that,” she said. “I was watching just now, when you were working on the gladiator.”

“Don’t ask me where that came from,” he said sheepishly. The look was too darn cute.

“Okay. But I wanted to ask something else.” Anything to take the edge off his appeal. She met his gaze and said, “What did you mean when you said ‘surf’ him?”

“Surfactin. It’s a medication.”

“Yeah. I was pretty sure you weren’t talking about ocean waves. What does it do?”

“Makes the lungs more flexible. If they’re stiff, air can’t be pushed in and out,” he explained. “One of the problems in neonates is that their lungs are immature. The medication helps them function better until they fully develop.”

“I see.”

“Good. Now I’ve got one for you.”

“One what?”

“Question. Turnabout is fair play.” He leaned a broad shoulder against the wall.

If the inquiry was about how a guy could look so sexy dressed in utilitarian scrubs, she had no answer. On every possible level it was just wrong for him to be so yummy in shapeless cotton material with a drawstring at the waist of the pants. The V-neck shirt at least revealed the hint of chest hair, but really, the ensemble left a lot to be desired. Except the guy in it was more desirable than her favorite chocolate with caramel.

“Okay. You can ask,” she said, knowing she was really going to regret giving permission.

“What do you have against giving me your phone number?” he said.

“You’ll use it,” she answered. “Gotta get back to work now.”

She grabbed her cart and pushed it down the hall, feeling his gaze lasering into her back until she rounded the corner. Leaning against the wall, she blew out a long breath.

It was hard work going one on one with a hero. Even harder to remember why she needed to not get sucked into the games. Between work and school, she didn’t have the time or energy. Whatever he was selling, she wasn’t buying. And even if she were, she’d just blown any chance with him. Like Harlow said, women were waiting in line.

So much for her plan to attend the fundraiser and enjoy every moment. Pulling out those memories of how the beautiful people lived was supposed to brighten her daily grind. She’d made memories, all right, and so much more. She’d snagged the doctor’s attention. For all the good that would do.

After today he wouldn’t waste any more time on her. Which was just as well because she didn’t have the time, energy or emotional reserves to waste on him.

And that made her sad and angry. It made her wish that once upon a time, she hadn’t been duped and damaged by a dope.

As Nathan headed down the hall toward administration, he was mentally fine-tuning his case to hire extra staff for the NICU. For the past week things had been nuts. Gladiator, aka Dylan Mason, was the first of some really sick babies. The staff in the unit was working their asses off and he wanted more bodies to care for his patients. Still, it wouldn’t be easy to convince the powers-that-be to spend more money, and he braced for the coming battle.

But when he walked into the outer office and saw Cindy at the desk, battles of the sexy sort took center stage. Probably because she’d refused every request to let him call her.

He’d never worked that hard for a phone number and, frankly, the struggle made him even more determined to get to the bottom of her resistance.

Cindy watched warily as he moved closer then settled his hip on the corner of her desk. There were two metal-framed chairs in front of it, but invading her space was more appealing. And this place could use a healthy dose of interesting. The ocean scenes on the beige walls made it generic decorating. With her blond hair and warm brown eyes, she sure brightened up her surroundings.

“Is there any job in this hospital that you don’t do?” he asked.

“Brain surgery.”

He laughed and that hadn’t been his expectation on his way to the administration offices. “So, can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“You can ask.” The way her full mouth curved up in a teasing smile finished the implication that she didn’t have to answer. “I’m an administrative intern.”

“Right. I remember. In addition to your other job?”

She nodded. “After the fall semester, I’ll have my degree in hospital administration. This summer was a good time to get the internship part accomplished.”

“Busy girl.”

She shrugged and the movement did amazing things to her breasts under the pink, silky blouse. By peeking over the desk he could see her black slacks. The business attire was buttoned-down professional. He’d also seen her in plain housekeeping clothes. But by far his favorite look was that short, strapless dress he’d first seen her in. The memory caused a very physical reaction that was a good indication his desire to see her out of it hadn’t gone away.

“So,” she said, tapping her pen on the desk. “I’m going to take a wild guess that you’re here to see Mr. Ryan. And not stalking me.”

“You would be correct. I have a staffing issue to discuss with him.”

“Specifically?”

“There’s a lot of work in the NICU. We’re going nuts up there.”

“And you want more help,” she guessed.

“Right in one.”

She swiveled her chair to the right and faced the computer monitor, then clicked away on the keyboard until data scrolled onto the screen. After studying it for a moment, she turned back and looked up.

“Good luck with that.”

He stared at her for several moments, then said, “What?”

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Ryan won’t give his approval to hire any more people.”

“You can tell that by looking at the computer?”

“Yes.”

He stood and looked down. “What is it? The great and powerful Oz?”

She grinned. “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”

“Seriously? How can a computer tell you we’re not up to our necks in alligators?”

“All the productivity information is here. It’s about FTEs—”

“No acronyms, please.”

“Full time equivalents. Then there are RVUs—” She noticed his frown and her full mouth curved up. “Relative value units.”

“Dumb it down for me.”

He knew matching personnel to patient load was complicated but had deliberately steered clear of the minutiae because it wasn’t his problem. Now avoidance was paying off because she was talking to him.

“There’s a formula to determine the percentage of staff hours per patient day for every hospital department. For example, if you’re allowed four hours to get the job done and do it in three hours and forty-five minutes, you’re over a hundred percent. That’s exactly where administration wants it and you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

“What if I want two more nurses?”

She turned to the computer, clicked the keys and assimilated the information that popped up. “According to this, NICU productivity is at ninety-four percent.”

“That sounds pretty good.”

“Not really. It means you have to give up a nurse.”

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

No, but she looked like she was enjoying this more than was absolutely necessary. She also looked like a woman who needed a full-body-contact kiss and he was just the relative value unit to give it to her.

“So, what happens if the NICU is full and the perinatologist sends over a high-risk pregnancy patient who delivers a twenty-four-week baby? How do I get a nurse?”

“The percentages are set at safe staffing levels. But in an extreme case, you contact the on-call nurse. If there’s a need for more help, you try to catch someone else at home and ask them to come in.”

“And what if we can’t find someone?”

“What if a brontosaurus walks in with two eggs and one of them cracks?” She folded her hands on the desk.

He knew what she was getting at, but this spirited back and forth was the most fun he’d had since the last time they’d talked.

“And your point is?” he asked, settling into the chair in front of her desk for a full-on view of her.

“You can’t staff for ‘what if.’ In a perfect world, yes. But we go by averages, then adjust to the reality we’re dealing with.”

“When I go in to see Ryan, am I going to get a rewind and play of this whole conversation?” It had been much more palatable coming from her, he realized.

“Probably.”

“Well, I’m already here.” And so was she. He had the testosterone rush to prove it. “Might as well go in and try to grind him down.”

“Good luck.”

Speaking of luck … It was time to stop talking shop and try again to grind her down. Or at least find out what her beef was with him.

“I’m having a NICU meeting today at five o’clock. Nurses, respiratory therapy. You should come. Everyone who works in the unit is invited.”

“I don’t work there.” Pink crept into her cheeks. “At least not on the babies.”

“Consider this part of your administrative internship. Good experience to come and hear the opposing point of view.”

“As tempting as that is …”

That was a no without saying no. And he knew she really didn’t need to be there. Personnel and administration were like Democrats and Republicans. They’d never see eye to eye. He just wanted the opportunity to spend a little time with her.

“I’d really like to see you.” He wasn’t talking about the meeting, and the way her eyes narrowed told him she knew it. “But this is me not using your phone number.”

“Look, Nathan, I’m really flattered that you asked. Partly because I thought that ship had sailed last week. But mostly because …” She stopped, clearly weighing how much to say. “Because every single woman younger than fifty who works in this facility, and some who don’t, are waiting in line to give you their phone numbers. But I’m not one of them.”

“Why is that?”

“Mostly because I can’t help wondering why you keep asking.”

“You mean am I up to something?” he asked.

“I mean is it just stubbornness? Ego? You being contrary?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I want to get to know you better?”

“Oh, please.” She made a scoffing sound. “That’s code for hooking up.”

He wouldn’t say no to a hookup, but that wasn’t his primary objective. “I’d really like to see you outside of work.”

“Let me be clear. And honest. You said it yourself. I’m a busy girl. I don’t have time in my schedule for a fling.”

“Neither do I.”

Her eyes flashed with what looked like anger and frustration. “In my experience, guys like you are all about the one who said no.”

“Later I’m probably going to be annoyed at being lumped in with the jerks.”

She ignored that and continued. “Let’s just skip to the end. How about if I just sleep with you? Then I can get you out of my life. It’s not even necessary to buy me dinner. It will save us both time. Seven minutes tops.”

“Ouch.” He’d heard both heat and hurt in her voice, and that took the sting out of the words for him. If only it had canceled out his curiosity, but he wasn’t that lucky. “What if I want to buy you dinner? No strings.”

“Do you?” she asked suspiciously.

“Take a chance. Find out for yourself.”

“If I do will you go away quietly?”

“Can we just take this one step at a time?” he asked. “Don’t spoil the surprise. That takes all the fun out of it.”

“In my experience, there’s nothing fun about a surprise.”

That was the second time she’d mentioned her experience. It didn’t take a mental giant to figure out that whatever happened hadn’t been good. If Nathan was as smart as everyone thought, he’d run from Cindy and her emotional baggage. But apparently he wasn’t that bright. Because he was inclined to sit here and wait until she agreed to go out with him.

“You know you want to say yes,” he coaxed.

“Were you raised by wolves? What part of no do you not understand?” She glared at him.

“My parents were incredibly civilized. Just not to each other.” He refused to take the bait. It didn’t escape his notice that she was pulling out all the stops to get him to give up. That made the challenge of wearing her down all the more stimulating. “Come on, Cindy. It will be fun.”

“The Titanic was fun, too, if you like freezing cold water and gigantic icebergs opening up the side of your ship like a tuna can.”

“I’m not leaving until you agree to have dinner with me tonight.” Tonight because he didn’t want to give her time to back out.

She thought for several moments and apparently decided he wasn’t backing down. After an exaggerated sigh, she said, “All right. But only because I have to eat.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Chapter Four

Cindy peeked out the window of her tiny three-bedroom home in the old part of Henderson. Nathan wasn’t there yet, but it was only six-fifty. She still had ten minutes to fret over and change the sleeveless black cotton sundress that had been her second outfit choice. If only her fairy godmothers were here with borrowed clothes, shoes and much-needed advice because she was running low on clothing options and was fresh out of common sense. A limited budget didn’t allow for a large wardrobe. Lack of variety sure cut down on time spent making a decision, but that didn’t erase the desperate wish to not care so much about looking her very best.

Because impressing Nathan Steele wasn’t the goal for tonight. Men were trouble and she didn’t need any more of it. This dinner was all about getting the doctor to back off and leave her alone so she could focus on her internship and the current job that helped pay her mountain of bills.

Cindy paced the living room’s wood floor and stayed far away from a mirror that would send her fashion critique impulses into warp drive. The back-and-forth walking lasted for another five minutes before she lifted the edge of the dollar store criss-crossed lace curtains just as a small, sporty silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb. The nerves she’d barely kept under control did a synchronized freak out.

“This is a very bad idea,” she muttered.

She grabbed the lightweight black sweater and her purse from the cedar chest that doubled as a coffee table sitting in front of the green floral love seat. Then she waited by the door for his knock. When it came, she whispered one Mississippi, two Mississippi, and continued until she got to ten before opening the door and forcing a bright smile.

“Hi. You’re early.”

Nathan’s gaze slid from the top of her head to her red-painted toes and the casual black and white low-heeled sandals. There was a gleam in his eyes when he smiled. “The rumor is that you’re on a tight schedule so wasting time wasn’t an option. And you’re obviously ready. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

It was just a line, she told herself. He was only being polite. But all the disclaimers in the world couldn’t stop the glow that went nuclear inside her and the tightness in her chest when she looked at him. The sexy scruff on his cheeks and jaw was missing, proof that he’d shaved. For her.

That started more flutters in her stomach, but she managed to say, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The truth was that he didn’t have a bad look. She’d seen him in scrubs and in a tux. The current crisply pressed khaki slacks and cream-colored sport shirt showed off the tan on his muscular arms with the added benefit of enhancing his broad shoulders and trim waist. It was impossible to pick a favorite Nathan view when he looked like sin-for-the-taking in everything.

Or nothing?

That thought sent hormones surging through her, and she quickly stepped outside on the porch. After locking the door she said, “Let’s go.”

Nathan followed behind her on the sidewalk so if he found her hurried exit weird, she didn’t know, what with not being able to see his expression. At the curb he opened the car, then cupped her elbow in his palm, handing her inside. The touch did nothing to calm her nerves. In fact it started tingles line dancing up and down her arms.

Before there was time to anesthetize them, he was in the driver’s seat, starting the car. The interior was small and intimate, not nearly enough space to dissipate the masculine scent of his skin. It surrounded her as surely as if he held her in his arms. Less than two weeks ago he’d done just that, the night he hadn’t recognized her. Being that close to him had stirred a fair amount of panic and then she’d made a dash for the exit.

He’d only caught up with her because her shoe broke. Moments later she’d called him a jerk and he’d laughed, then said he wanted to see her again. Turning him down flat hadn’t worked so well and here she was, out of the frying pan and into the fire. So to speak.

Speaking of speaking, she wasn’t doing any, so she tried to think of something witty to say. All she could come up with was, “So where are you taking me?”

Before turning left onto Lake Mead Boulevard, he glanced over. “Have you ever had a nice surprise?”

She wasn’t sure why he’d asked but gave the question some serious thought. “Probably, but I can’t remember one off the top of my head.”

“Well, brace yourself. I promise this one will be good.”

He turned from Horizon Ridge Parkway onto Eastern Avenue and drove up the hill, then pulled into the parking lot of Capriotti’s Italian restaurant. It was dusk and not the optimum time to appreciate the lights across the Vegas Valley, but after the sun set, there would be a spectacular view.

Inside, the muted light made for a romantic atmosphere, and a cozy booth for two in the back corner cranked it up several notches. Their arms touched and Cindy swore she actually heard the crackle of electricity that was anything but static. A little sideways move gave her space but no real breathing room.

The last time a guy had taken her to a restaurant with candles and white tablecloths, he’d sweet-talked his way into her life and her bank account, then proceeded to rob her blind. Nathan probably didn’t need her money, but he stirred a need deep inside and she had an uneasy feeling that he could take from her something far more precious than her good credit rating.

A forty-something waiter with salt-and-pepper hair and wearing black pants and a long-sleeved white shirt appeared beside them. “Dr. Steele, it’s nice to see you again.”

Nathan’s smile was friendly. “Hello, Mario. How are you?”

“Very well.” He looked at Cindy and bowed slightly. “Welcome to Capriotti’s. May I get you something from the bar?”

Dr. Charming met her gaze. “What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she said wryly.

“Mario, I think we’ll have a bottle of my favorite wine.”

“The pinot noir. Excellent choice. I’ll bring it right out.” Before leaving, he handed them menus.

When they were alone Cindy opened hers and said, “So they know your favorite wine. Obviously, you come here often.”

“The food is really good.”

“Do your other women like it?” She was looking at the food choices but not really seeing the words. When she glanced up she saw that he looked more amused than anything else.

“My other women?” he asked. “In spite of what you think and the hospital gossip you base it on, there is no line of women.”

Before she could refute that, someone delivered a basket containing warm rolls wrapped in a white cloth. With a flourish, the guy mixed oil and balsamic vinegar on a plate for dipping. Then Mario returned with the bottle of red and skillfully opened it with a corkscrew and twist of the wrist. After Nathan sipped and approved, the waiter poured them each a glass.

“Do you need a moment or are you ready to order?”

“Cindy?”

She saw fettuccine alfredo and pointed, “I’ll have that.”

“My favorite,” Nathan agreed. “Make it two. And two Caesar salads.”

“Excellent choice,” Mario approved, then quietly left them.

Nathan picked up his wineglass. “Here’s to good surprises.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear.” There was a crystal ring when she touched her glass to his. After taking a drink she said, “That’s very nice.”

“See? Already something good.” He grinned.

She wasn’t so sure. The night wasn’t over yet and getting through unscathed was a goal in jeopardy when he looked at her like she was dessert. That wouldn’t be a problem except she wanted to be dessert.

He leaned back against the leather seat and stretched an arm along the back, his fingers nearly brushing her bare shoulder. “So, how are mumsy and daddy?”

“Actually my parents both passed away several years ago. My father nursed mom through cancer. Then a couple of years later, he had a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, Cindy. I didn’t mean to bring up—it was a bad joke.”

“My fault. I was messing with you that night at the fundraiser.” She settled her white cloth napkin in her lap. “It was hard losing them both so close together, but Dad was never the same after Mom died. I think he missed her. Now it’s just my brother and me.”

“Is he coming home from college for the summer?”

“No. He’s taking a class, working and sharing an apartment with some buddies. I’m helping out with expenses.” Which wouldn’t be necessary if the sweet-talking jerk who’d wined and dined her hadn’t cleaned out the money her parents left for their children’s education. She took a sip of wine. “You already know about my pathetically normal childhood. I’d like to hear about how you didn’t have one.”

He frowned, an expression just this side of brooding but no less appealing than his grin. “My father was always working. Because he was never home, Mother had hobbies. She took classes. Painting. Knitting. Needlepoint. Calligraphy. Aura reading.” Over the flickering light of the candle, his gaze connected with hers. “Neither of them were around much. I became pretty self-sufficient.”

“It sounds to me like your mother was hurt about your father working so much. She was probably hiding in her hobbies.” She finished off the wine in her glass. “And I can’t decide if you take after her or your father.”

“How about neither?”

She shook her head. “You put in a lot of hours at the hospital.”

“And you know this—how?”

“While the women wait in your line, they talk about you.” The snarky remark made him smile, just as she’d intended. “It’s said that you’re dedicated. So either you’re a workaholic like your father, or you’re hiding like your mom.”

Just then Mario brought their salads. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Not right now,” Nathan said.

The light, carefree expression had disappeared and it was her fault. Cindy wished for a filter from her brain to her mouth, but it was too late for that.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. At least he did. She pushed romaine lettuce and croutons around the plate and not much of it got eaten. She wished she’d kept her views to herself.

Finally she couldn’t stand the silence. “Look, Nathan, it’s just my opinion and worth what you paid for it. About now you’re probably regretting this invitation. The offer of sex with no strings attached must look pretty good. Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.”

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