Arrhythmia (6 page)

Sebastian wrinkled his nose to show us he was offended. “By all means. If that’s what you ladies wish, I’ll go.” He looked at me. “Vera will tell me everything anyway.”

His head disappeared just in time to avoid getting hit by the magazine Vera threw at him. “Idiot!” she called, which he acknowledged only with a giggle. She turned to me. “That’s not true at all.”

I tried my best to look at her sternly while stifling my laughter. Vera looked at me with such desperation that I had to reassure her. “I know, I know.”

She sighed with relief. “What a liar.”

“You’re lucky to have him,” I said.

“Yes, I am.” She smiled blissfully. “And we’re going to find someone to make you feel lucky too.”

I nodded silently, though I was far from convinced.

Of course, Vera was right about what she’d said about trust, and I knew perfectly well that I would have to overcome my fears in order to let a partner into my life. Still, I needed to feel it when the right moment arrived, and no matter how much I might want to be, I was simply not ready.

And especially not ready for a Casanova like Desiderio.

Chapter 8

I was completely exhausted the next day. I’d tossed and turned all night and hardly slept. For starters, oppressive summer heat had taken hold in Wollbach. When I finally managed to fall asleep, I was tormented by strange nightmares. I couldn’t remember the details, but it had something to do with black hands trying to tear out my heart. Really creepy.

Even though I had a late shift, I felt sleep deprived and worn out. So I shuffled into the ER to start my shift completely lacking in motivation. I immediately ran into Desiderio, further straining my nerves.

He was standing in front of Hans, about to make coffee, when I entered the kitchen. I was still on the threshold when I spotted the yellow mug in his hand.

“You can forget that right now,” I informed him, dispensing with any greeting. “That’s my mug!”

My vitriolic tone seemed to confuse Desiderio for a moment. “Dieter?”

I merely nodded.

“Your middle name?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I entered the kitchen and stretched out my hand. “Give it here.”

“Hm . . .”

The roguish glint in his eyes did not bode well for my getting my mug back. He slowly raised his hand to start the machine.

I took another quick step toward him. “Did I not make myself clear?” I placed my hands on my hips menacingly.

His fingers hovered ominously over the “Start” button while we stared at each other and engaged in a silent power struggle. The fact that his lips were curling in amusement enraged me even more.

“Enough!” I finally huffed. “You’re the newbie here, and as such, you have to submit to the kitchen hierarchy in which I clearly rank above you! So kindly step aside or give me the mug before someone gets hurt!”

“We wouldn’t want that. But why don’t you just ask me nicely?”

What?
I had to ask for my own property and nicely as well? He had to be a few bricks shy of a load.

I put as much biting irony in my tone as I could and forced out the words: “Would you give me my mug,
please
?”

He immediately dropped his hand. “Of course.”

What a turd . . .

He slowly turned toward me and flashed that cursed crooked smile at me.

It was only then that I realized how close I was to him. I had to pull back my head to look into his eyes, which made me feel momentarily outgunned. He gave off a captivating scent that beggared description and slowly but surely dimmed my brain. I sensed my heart rate doubling, but I was powerless to stop it, as much as it annoyed me.

I wondered if his hair felt as soft as it looked.

Lena!

I had to regain control of myself and show this jerk that I was stronger than his engulfing charm!

With every ounce of focus I had, I leaned forward and pressed the “Start” button without taking my eyes off his.

Hans started grinding and doing its thing while I continued my death stare, coming close to losing my mind.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I retrieved my steaming Dieter mug and blew into it.

All this time, Desiderio had been just as focused as I, piercing me with his inscrutable gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally broke the spell.

“Do you defend everything that belongs to you with such commitment?” he asked.

“If need be,” I said, shrugging. I took a big gulp of coffee.

He leaned down toward me a little and said, sotto voce, “I find you more impressive with every passing day, my little warrioress.”

I opened my eyes wide and my coffee went down the wrong way, giving me a sudden, full-blown coughing fit.

Desiderio walked out of the kitchen, laughing quietly, leaving me behind coughing and panting. It was a good thing he was gone, because some of the coffee got so lost that it reemerged through my nose.

And yes, that felt just as nasty as it sounds.

Gagging, I stood over the sink and attempted to get myself under control again—to get control of my breathing as well as my brain, which was running amok.

Little warrioress!

Was that supposed to be a nickname?

A term of endearment?

An insult?

Little warrioress . . .

Although this arrogant braggart annoyed me in the extreme, I had to admit that I somehow liked the term.

Shit, this day had to get better.

Right?

It got better. The afternoon was filled with accidents of all kinds, and I was glad to be swept up in the general hustle and bustle of the ER because it took my mind off that vexing subject named Desiderio.

The distraction worked marvelously until the end of my shift. Only when I left the hospital and walked across the parking lot with my coworker Lisa did those ocean-blue eyes reappear in my mind.

It was Lisa’s fault for asking me, “So, what do you think of DiCastello?”

What I really wanted to say was “He’s an arrogant douchebag with a massive ego that urgently needs to be deflated,”
but instead I replied evasively, “Seems OK.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just, well,” she said quickly.

Oh, God . . .

“So you’ve taken a liking to him,” I declared soberly.

She twirled one of her light brown curls around her index finger. “Well, yes. Who wouldn’t like him?”

I wouldn’t!
Well, strictly speaking, that was a lie . . . at least where looks were concerned.

I scrutinized Lisa surreptitiously from the side. She was a perfectly nice-looking girl. Always pleasant and friendly. And yet her personality was characterized by tremendous shyness that seemed to envelop her and shield her from her environment. Lisa was simply overlooked on a regular basis. It somehow seemed as if she was always cowering, even if she was standing before me straight as a post.

“Do you think I might have a chance with him?” she asked me cautiously.

No, child, absolutely none . . .
Of course, I kept my thoughts to myself. I wasn’t going to destroy anyone’s dreams today.

And so I casually answered, “Who knows? It’d be easy for you to find out.”

“How?” she wanted to know in all innocence.

“Well, you just have to ask him if he wants to go out with you.”

Lisa stopped and looked at me with enormous saucer eyes. “Me?”

“Sure. You want to know, don’t you? So ask him.”

“I can’t do that!” she cried in horror and vigorously shook her head.

“Nonsense,” I stopped her. “There’s nothing to it.”

I knew, of course, that Desiderio was probably as unattainable as Mount Everest for shy Lisa, but I could still encourage her. In addition, an admittedly rather devious idea was taking shape in my head.

If I were to succeed in hooking my coworker up with DiCastello . . . well, then he would leave me in peace. And I would have done a good deed by bringing together two lonely hearts! Inwardly, I was already rubbing my hands together with glee.

“What is it?” Lisa asked suspiciously.

I must have been looking at her as if she were a particularly delicious cake, because she backed away from me a bit.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied quickly and smiled. “I was just wondering if you had the late shift again tomorrow.”

“Um, yes, I do. Why?”

“Great!” I clapped my hands, which made Lisa flinch visibly. “Then tomorrow I’ll start helping you make a play for Desiderio.”

“What?”
she uttered, aghast. “But . . . but . . .”

“No buts! You just have to stay cool and play along like a good girl.”

The fact that I myself was anything but cool in Desiderio’s presence was beside the point.

I liked my plan more with every passing minute. By now, I was sure that distracting the persistent doctor from my humble self would be my salvation. That way, he could work his charm on a willing person and everyone would be happy.

Oh, it was a good plan . . .

The first opportunity to make Lisa tempting to Desiderio presented itself the very next day. He was helping out in the ER, and I cleverly arranged for Lisa to assist him.

As I worked, I fretted over whether the two were getting along well and hoped my coworker would be able to overcome at least a little of her shyness. My curiosity got the better of me after an hour, and I decided to pay the two a visit in the consulting room.

At first glance, the situation didn’t appear terribly promising.

Desiderio was seated at the desk, studying a patient file, while Lisa stood practically as far away from him as possible.

It seemed that my help was sorely needed.

Without hesitation, I rushed into the room and collapsed in a chair.

“Phew. This heat is too much,” I whined, fanning myself with my hand. “What’s the temperature today?”

“Mideighties, according to the weather service,” Desiderio replied. He seemed a little surprised that I would just initiate a normal conversation.

“Eighties! Jesus.”

He waved my complaints aside. “Oh, I could stand it even a little warmer.”

Spoken like a true Mediterranean type . . .

“As long as I have to be in this bunker, it might as well be raining the whole time,” I said. “A person shouldn’t be required to work in such heat; we should be lying on a beach sipping cocktails. Oh, what I would give for a caipirinha! What about you, Lisa?”

“Hm?”

“What sort of cocktail could you go for right now?”

She shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about alcohol. I almost never drink.”

Inwardly, I was face-palming.

I almost never drink?
She might just as well have said, “I collect stamps.”

Her statement briefly threw me off course, and I needed a moment to take up the thread again. I hoped I wasn’t staring at Lisa with too much dismay and was glad to see that Desiderio had turned his attention back to the patient file.

I quietly cleared my throat.

“Very responsible of you,” I praised her abstinence. “After my last night out, I made a promise to myself to start drinking less.” Was I just imagining it, or was Desiderio grinning? Just in case, I quickly added, “I mean, it’s not like I can’t have a good time without alcohol.”

Now he clearly was grinning!
Idiot.

I swallowed my anger and decided to rededicate myself to my task.

“Say, Lisa,” I began casually. “Where do you go when you want to have fun? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Go.”

Even before she could answer, I knew I’d made another mistake. Lisa’s expression spoke volumes, but before I could stop her, she said, “Oh, I almost never go out.”

I peeked at Desiderio, but he still appeared to be engrossed in his reading.

Had he really not been listening, or was he just pretending? I hoped the former was the case.

My efforts to make Lisa appear interesting had, so far, had the opposite effect. I decided to give up this line of questioning and try something else.

I rose and patted my coworker on the shoulder. “You know what? The two of us really should hit the bars sometime!”

OK, so on the one hand, we had Lisa, a pretty, timid girl who had never painted the town or drunk herself silly. And on the other, we had the heartbreaker Desiderio, who never seemed to pass up a chance to have a good time.

How the hell was I going to bring these two together?

They say opposites attract, but is that even true? How can you be interested in someone if you don’t have anything in common?

In my opinion, that was completely impossible. I had to find something that would be equally interesting to both Lisa and Desiderio.

But what? What was a universal topic of conversation, other than the weather? Politics? Literature?

Movies!

That was it! Everyone in the world was familiar with movies and television, so everyone had something to say about them. At least I hoped so.

I pretended to have some forms urgently in need of sorting. After rummaging in a drawer for a while, I ventured, “Hey, I saw
A Good Day to
Die Hard
in the theater yesterday.”

Fortunately, Desiderio entered the discussion right away. “Oh yeah? I want to see that. Was it good?”

“Oh yes. Bruce Willis doesn’t get older; he just gets more interesting,” I raved.

“Well, sure. Like all men.” Desiderio winked.

I laughed.

Hold it. I laughed! Stop! Back to the plan.

“Lisa, have you seen it yet?” I inquired.

She shook her head.

Well, that surely had to be the lead-up to a date!

I winked at her in a conspiratorial way and said, “And do you plan to see it?”

My wink transformed into a desperate twitch as she replied, “No, I’d rather not. It would be too violent for me. So many explosions and shootings . . .”

It took all my strength to suppress a deep groan. I could not, however, help myself from rubbing my temples as if I had a severe headache.

“But that’s what action movies are all about. Explosions and a hero who shoots things up,” I tried to explain to Lisa in a neutral tone, when what I actually wanted to do was shake her.

“Exactly. That’s why I don’t like movies like that,” she countered simply and shrugged her shoulders.

I took a deep breath in and out. “So what sort of movies do you like?”

Lisa reflected for a moment. “Uh, I really prefer love stories.”

I instantly made a face and was shocked to see that Desiderio was doing the same.

Good job, Lisa! What man do you know who likes chick flicks, huh?

For chrissake! I could have slapped her.

What was her problem? Was she deliberately making things difficult for me? How old was she anyway? She didn’t drink, didn’t go out, didn’t like action movies . . . Jesus Christ, what did the woman do all day?

I awkwardly attempted to salvage the situation by nodding sympathetically. “Yeah, well, some romantic comedies are pretty funny. And not everyone likes a bloodbath . . . Oops, I have to get back to work.”

I must have shaken my head in disbelief for a full fifteen minutes after leaving the consulting room.