A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (11 page)

Technically, Valerie’s kiss that very morning could be considered sexual harassment. But he certainly didn’t think she was trying to take advantage of him. He’d been around the block enough times to know that occasionally, two people crackled like an electromagnetic field whenever they were with each other. Her overture confirmed what he’d hoped: She wanted to rock the bedsprings as much as he did.

Unless . . .
Oh, shit
. What if that kiss was actually a test? What if she had tempted him just to see if he would violate the “Don’t get involved with clients” contract? Maybe that’s what she wanted to talk about tomorrow. Maybe she was going to fire him. He put his fork down and rubbed his brow.

No sense sweating it now
. But if that kiss had been a test, she was one hell of an actress. His instincts couldn’t be that far off, could they? He’d always considered himself fairly levelheaded when it came to sexual attraction. He never dreamed he’d pull a Henry the Eighth and let his libido cloud his judgment.

Oh, well. He’d learn his fate tomorrow. On a gut level, he felt certain her hormones had been screaming as loud as his. But perhaps he was thinking with the wrong head.

Chapter 9

Helen sat down next to Charlie at her kitchen table and handed him the phone. “It sounds illegal to me.”

“Trust me,” he said, gently touching her upper arm. “I’ve done this before. It’ll work.”

She picked at a hangnail and fought the urge to bite it. “It doesn’t seem right, though. We’d be cheating the cab driver out of a legitimate fare, wouldn’t we?”

He ran a finger down the list of taxicab companies in the phone book. “No. Those cab companies factor in emergency trips when they set their salaries. It’s kind of like a
pro bono
thing.” He punched in a phone number, saying each numeral out loud. “Besides, we’ll pay for the return trip. So it’s like they’re giving us a fifty-percent discount, which is only fair since we’re seniors.”

She pondered that as he ordered the cab. It did seem somewhat reasonable. After all, shouldn’t they have senior discounts anyway? Still, the whole scheme made her a little queasy.

When the cab arrived, Charlie handled things like a master con man. He gave the driver the name and address of the theater, then chatted amiably with him about the Cubs’ chances next year. About five minutes into the ride, Charlie complained of a pain in his left arm. Then he gasped and clutched a fist to his chest. “Oh, my God. I think . . . I think . . .”

The driver slowed down and glanced repeatedly in the rearview mirror. “You might be having a heart attack!”

“I—” Charlie groaned loudly. “You may be right.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” The driver sped up. “You don’t wanna mess with a heart attack. My dad died of a heart attack because he refused to believe he was having one. Man, you don’t wanna mess with that.”

The driver pulled up to the emergency entrance, ran around to the passenger side, and escorted Charlie into the hospital as Helen followed. The driver offered to wait with them, but Charlie insisted that wasn’t necessary, especially with the cab blocking the ER driveway. So the cabbie wished them well and left without charging them any fare, just as Charlie had predicted.

Charlie straightened his posture and steered Helen back toward the entrance. A nurse called to them. “Sir? Can we help you?”

“Oh, no.” Charlie chuckled like a silly old man. “We just have the wrong entrance.”

They exited and walked about ten paces before putting their heads together and covering their mouths to suppress their mirth. “Told you it would work.”

Helen’s chest expanded with a large intake of air. It had been ages since she’d done anything naughty, and, heaven help her, it felt wonderful. “You’re a bad influence on me, Charlie Gorski.”

He stroked one of the handlebars of his mustache. “Yes, well, good guys finish last, don’t they?”

“Not always, you rascal.” Stanley had been a good guy. Well, for the most part. It always irked her that he was a virtual saint when it came to business ethics, yet he could bend his principles when it came to extramarital dalliances.

The theater was right around the corner from the hospital. Helen’s giddiness from the success of their free-ride plot put her in a good humor for the play, which she enjoyed immensely. Her mood remained upbeat until they were waiting in the lobby for their ride home. She started to fret about whether Charlie would want to come in “for a nightcap,” as they used to say, or simply drop her off and take the cab to his own place.

When the cab arrived and they slid in the back seat, she tried not to sit too close to him. He gave the driver Helen’s address and settled back in the seat. But the car didn’t move.

“Hey.” The driver turned around and scowled at Charlie.

Helen’s breath caught in her throat. It was the same cabbie they had duped.

Valerie sat propped up in her bed as she and Keith did a postmortem on the kiss that had sent shockwaves through their relationship.

“If that kiss was some kind of test, I guess I failed,” he said, shifting in his chair.

“Test? What do you mean?”

“To see if I would violate the terms of that contract. The one saying I won’t get involved with patients.”

She had to hold her fingers to her lips to keep from laughing. “You honestly think I was testing you?”

He did a carefree half shrug. “That possibility did occur to me. A lot of employers use covert means to monitor their employees.”

“Well, maybe I’m behind the times, but I’m not into ‘covert monitoring.’ I just wanted to kiss you.”

His lips parted, and she decided not to embellish her statement. Perhaps she was a bit old for the game, but she still understood the value of playing hard to get.

“Actually,” she said, “I was concerned that maybe you felt like you had to reciprocate to keep your job.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh, not at all. I . . . well, like you said, I just wanted to—”

The doorbell rang. “Hmm,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Could you answer it?”

“Sure.” He left the room and returned a couple of minutes later—with Greg.

“Greg!” She noted her ex-husband’s deep tan, and he appeared a little more trim and fit. Divorce suited him, it seemed.
Jerk
.

“I just heard about your accident, so I thought I’d stop by to see if you need anything.” Greg gave Keith a scornful look. “But I can see you’re being well taken care of.”

She introduced the two men, and they briefly shook hands. “Keith is a nurse
and
a physical therapist.”

“Really.” Greg tilted his head back and stared down his nose at Keith. “Do you have a degree in ‘hunkiness’ as well?” A phony chuckle rumbled in Greg’s throat, and he gave Keith a “friendly” sideways jab on the arm. “Just kiddin’, buddy. I’m glad you’re so qualified to take care of Val.”

Greg’s behavior resembled that time in college when he’d found Valerie in the library studying with a cute guy from one of her classes. Greg had clearly been peeved, but he acted all chummy with the guy. Was he actually jealous?

“So how are you doing?” Greg asked her.

“Quite well, really. I’ll be back to work next week.” Normally she’d be thrilled about going back to the office, but not so much this time. Her gaze gravitated to Keith.

“That’s great.” Greg turned to Keith. “Has she been a good patient?”

Keith huffed in disgust. “Impossible. I’ve never had such a lazy, unmotivated patient in my life.”

“You liar!” She slammed Keith’s gut with one of her pillows.

“You two certainly have a good rapport.” Greg’s voice had a taunting quality.

“That’s because of the excellent training Keith got when he came to Triple-H. God knows he was a heathen before then.”

Keith swung the pillow back at Valerie, slowly enough for her to raise her hands and block it from hitting her in the face.

Greg crossed his arms. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was at one of your Mother Hubbard locations.”

Dipping her head like a disobedient child, she glanced at Keith, whose color rose just as she suspected her own was doing.

“Well, I’m clearly not needed here.” Greg raised a hand in farewell. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Valerie.”

He almost never called her Valerie. “Thanks for coming, Greg. I really do appreciate it.”

He left without saying anything more to Keith, which struck her as odd, since Greg usually had such good manners.

Neither she nor Keith spoke until they heard the front door close.

“That was awkward,” he said.

“It sure was. Oh, well. Divorce in general is awkward, don’t you think?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I wouldn’t really know. My wife just up and left me. Moved back to Colombia. It was more of a hassle than anything, trying to get all the paperwork finalized.”

“Trust me, that’s a hassle even if you’re both in the same city. Tell me more about her.”

“Lina?” He slid the chair up next to the bed and sat. “That’s history. I’d much rather get back to our conversation about us.”

Desire tingled between her legs, and she wanted to reach out and touch his well-hewn face. But she also wanted
him
to make the first move the next time they got intimate—
if
it happened again. It probably wouldn’t unless she sent the right signals. “I’m sure you realize there are a lot of ethical reasons why we shouldn’t get involved. But I want you to know that whatever happens between us, I’ll do my best to keep our personal relationship from having any effect on your job.”

“I appreciate that.” He took hold of her hand, kindling warm rushes of excitement throughout her body. “And I’d like you to know that whatever it was that possessed you to kiss me, it was . . . mutual.”

She inhaled a sweet breath of relief, but the intensity of his aquamarine gaze kept her from speaking.

He leaned a little closer to her. “I’d really like to continue that kiss, if my boss has no objection.”

Objection? God, no. “Your boss would object if you
didn’t
.”

He moved over to the edge of the bed and proceeded at a tantalizing pace, cupping the side of her face with one hand while tenderly kissing her lips over and over. His warm, coffee-scented breath made her thirst for more, and when his tongue gingerly ventured into her mouth, a tiny moan escaped from her throat.

She slid a hand behind his head and brought him deeper into the kiss. He responded with equal enthusiasm, and their tongues explored every surface of each other’s mouth, from the rough to the hard, to the slippery smooth. She heard his breathing quicken, and then . . . the doorbell.

“Oh,
shit
!” She slammed a palm down on the bed. “Who could
that
be?”

He frowned, shrugged, and went to answer the door. Then she heard a voice that dissolved the magical atmosphere Keith had created.

“Oh, Keith! I forgot you’d still be here.”

Mom.

Valerie had no difficulty hearing the conversation, since Mom generally spoke with the voice she used for her hard-of-hearing friends. “Keith, this is my friend, Lorraine. Lorraine, this is Valerie’s best hunk, Keith. He’s my hunk now, too.”

You wish
.

Valerie heard them moving toward the bedroom as Mom explained she and Lorraine were out running errands and decided to stop in and check on Valerie.

“There’s my girl.” Mom glided to the side of the bed and kissed Valerie’s forehead. “How are you today, dear?”

“Just peachy. Hi, Lorraine.”

Lorraine peeled her eyes away from Keith long enough to wiggle a wave to Valerie. “Oh, Helen! Tell Valerie and Keith about your date last night. It’s hilarious. You won’t believe what they did.”

Mom blushed as much as an exceedingly pale, eighty-one-year-old woman could. “Oh, I’m not sure they’d really be interested.”

“Come on, Helen,” Lorraine said. “It’s a great story.”

“Yes, tell us, Mom. Go ahead and sit down.” Valerie indicated the chair next to her. “You can sit on the bed, Lorraine.”

“Well, all right,” Mom said as she settled into the chair. She seemed a little embarrassed when she began, but her enthusiasm built as she got further into the story. “I tell you, that driver was
mad
! But then Charlie started talking to him about how hard it is to live on a fixed income, and before you knew it, he made a deal with the driver to pay for both rides, but at a twenty-five-percent discount.” Mom leaned back with a ‘How about that?’ expression on her face.

Valerie hadn’t met this Charlie character, but what Mom had told her about him had created a favorable impression—until now. “You’re lucky that cab driver didn’t call the police!”

“Oh, Valerie.” Mom shook her head slowly. “Why do you always have to imagine the worst?”

“What you did was illegal, Mom.” Valerie disliked the shrill edge in her voice, so she tried to tone it down. “I realize it might have seemed like it was just a little harmless fun, but the fact is, you intentionally stole from that driver.”

Mom crossed her hands in her lap and pouted. Lorraine cleared her throat.

“At least it all turned out okay,” Keith said.

“Exactly!” Lorraine perked up. “And you have to admit, it was funny.”

“Well, I guess it depends on how you define ‘funny.’”

A hissing burst of laughter escaped from Keith’s mouth and nose before he could muffle it with his hand. His gaze met Valerie’s as he struggled to control himself. “I’m sorry,” he said with a strained voice, “but I can just imagine Helen’s face when she saw it was the same cab driver . . .” The pitch of his voice had skyrocketed, and he totally cracked up.

Valerie tried
not
to visualize the scene. But as Keith doubled over, and Mom and Lorraine looked like teakettles about to blow, she could feel the infectious mirth piercing her armor of sensible composure. Oh, Christ, it
was
funny. Mom’s eyes probably did that Marty Feldman thing that only happened when she was terrified. The harder Valerie tried to resist the mental picture, the more persistent it became until she lost it along with the others.

Still, she was the first to catch her breath. “All right, it was funny. But I hope Charlie doesn’t pull any more stunts like that.”

“I’m sure he won’t.” Mom raised her glasses to wipe the moisture from her eyes. “Although he did say something about stealing a limo on our next date.”

“Why stop there?” Keith asked. “They have all those private jets just sitting around at O’Hare. I’m sure they wouldn’t miss
one
.”

“All right, you two.” Valerie shook her head. “Just don’t expect me to be baking a cake with a file in it when you’re sitting in the Cook County Jail.”

Keith pushed off from the dresser he’d been leaning against. “I have to get to my next appointment. You”—he pointed at Valerie—“be sure to do your exercises.” He raised a hand of farewell to Mom and Lorraine. “It was wonderful to see you ladies, and, Helen, I’ll see you again soon.”

“Okay. Bye-bye, Keith.” Mom beamed like a lottery winner as he departed. Then she turned to Valerie. “Now tell me, dear, is there anything I can get for you?”