Arrhythmia (9 page)

“You said that beautifully,” I whispered, fascinated, and only then realized that I had spoken out loud. Embarrassed, I quickly cleared my throat. “Uh, I mean . . . yes, you’re right. I agree. What, uh, is your favorite kind of literature?”

“That’s hard to pinpoint. My likes are really all over the place. It depends on what I’m in the mood for. Mostly thrillers or crime novels, but some sci-fi and fantasy as well.” He turned toward me. “I read every single book in the Harry Potter series,” he confessed.

I had to smile at him. “Me too.” I winked. “But I don’t think that’s so bad. Now, if you’d read
Twilight . . .
Oh my God, you read it?”

“Mea culpa!” Desiderio buried his face in his hands.

“OK, that
is
a little strange.” I giggled and sat up. “A grown man who reads teen vampire love stories and maybe even likes them?”

He peered at me from between his splayed fingers. “I did like them.”

“Yeah, I knew there was something not quite right about you,” I joked, “but I wouldn’t have guessed it was that bad . . .”

“Hey, look who’s talking!” he said indignantly. “I bet you read trashy books sometimes too.”

“Sure, but I’m a woman. I’m allowed.”

Desiderio threw up his arms in mock despair. “When will there finally be gender equality?”

“When women can pee standing up, men will be allowed to like trashy love stories.”

The corners of his mouth showed a dangerous twitch. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” I added hastily before he could come up with some annoying comment or other.

We became silent and, to my great astonishment, I realized that I was entirely relaxed even though that wonderful scent was still lingering in my nose. I could in no way claim the present situation made me feel uncomfortable, and that fact both delighted and frightened me. On the one hand, I was glad that I was finally able to act like a normal person in Desiderio’s company. On the other, it meant I liked him. And that was not a good thing.

Not at all.

It couldn’t be a good idea to continue lounging around in his intoxicating aura just because we’d had our first real conversation that didn’t include him coming on to me.

“Shall we go for a swim?” he asked.

“No!” I screamed so loudly that he looked at me, startled. “Uh, no, uh . . . I think I have to go. What time is it anyway?”

“No idea.” He shrugged and looked at me with suspicion. “I don’t have a watch with me.”

I rummaged in my backpack for my cell phone. It was obvious that Desiderio didn’t know what to make of my sudden mood swing.

When I finally succeeded in locating my phone and saw that it was already almost six thirty, I jumped as if stung by an adder and began hastily collecting my belongings.

“I’ve got to go,” I explained. “I’m late.”

“What for?”

“I just have to go” was my only answer.

“I see.”

Desiderio seemed convinced that my sudden need to leave had something to do with his invitation for a swim, because he leaned back, rested on his elbows, and put on that rakish, crooked smile that once again threatened to throw me completely off balance. The SOB was well aware that his posture did a beautiful job of showing off his abs. One brief look at this Adonis brought a deep blush to my cheeks. While I was stuffing my belongings into my backpack, I could feel his eyes resting on me, which threw my fine motor skills into total disarray, making me drop things and feel like a complete idiot. He even had the nerve to sigh in disappointment as I slipped on my dress!

“I have to hurry because I have a date this evening,” I blurted, just to get back at him.

Was I being mean to him after all? Maybe a little, but at the moment, he deserved it.

And sure enough, the information seemed to have its intended effect. He actually looked shocked, as if he didn’t know what to say. It was the first time I had seen him speechless, and yet I couldn’t really enjoy it. Why was he so shocked?

“A date?” he inquired with raised eyebrows.

What? Was it so absurd that I would have a date?

Defiantly, I pushed my lower lip forward. “Yes, a date. With a man.”

It was the truth. The fact that this man was my best friend was irrelevant. “We’re going out to eat. Maybe we’ll take a romantic walk, and then, well, we’ll see what the evening has in store for us,” I said. “Have a nice weekend. It was nice talking with you. See you at work.”

Admittedly, saying all that about a romantic walk was mean, particularly as I couldn’t help but notice the mixture of disappointment and sadness in his eyes. It was clear that I’d hurt him, but what exactly had I hurt? His feelings or just his ego? The latter seemed more likely. Still, I agonized over it as I struggled through the underbrush on my way back to my car.

What was that sadness in his eyes? Was it only his hurt pride? My mind kept wandering back to the question.

Was it possible that he had feelings for me that had nothing to do with physical attraction?

I knew my thoughts were entering dangerous territory. Still, I kept seeing Desiderio’s face, the way he’d looked at me when we were at the lake, in my mind’s eye. Something about it had made my heart jump, and I now couldn’t stop asking myself why. I didn’t want to react to him this way, but I couldn’t deny my joy at the secret hope that he was seriously interested after all—something that terrified me. After all, the past had taught me that such feelings utterly blinded me to reality, and I had sworn to myself that I would never again be led into disaster because of some dumb butterflies in my stomach.

One broken heart in a lifetime was more than enough.

“Lena?”

“Huh?” I looked up from my daydream. Frank’s expectant face told me he must have asked a question.

We were sitting on the patio of a lovely Italian restaurant and had arrived at the main course. I had been absentmindedly poking around in my pasta for some time. Not because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because my thoughts were constantly returning to Desiderio. Wait, had my subconscious led me to choose an Italian restaurant? Crap. No, I’d always loved pizza and pasta, long before he had stumbled into my life.

“What are you thinking about?” Frank wanted to know.

“Eh.” What was I supposed to say? “About work,” I answered evasively. My muddled thoughts basically had been about work, sort of. At least about a certain coworker.

“Is something wrong?”

And how!

I shook my head. “Nothing too serious.”

If that isn’t the understatement of the year!

Frank leaned back. “Let’s hear it.”

I scratched my chin indecisively. “Oh, I’d really rather not get into it. I don’t want to bore you.”

“You never bore me.”

I shook my head, smiling. “That’s sweet of you, but no, it’s nothing important. Why don’t you tell me about your mysterious sheikh instead? Account balances and all that.”

He glanced at me pensively before returning my smile. “Why are you interested in his account balance? Do you want to find out how many camels he can buy you?”

“Is there a vacancy in his harem?”

“Is there a limit? Not that I know of. But you wouldn’t last very long in one. The poor sheikh would find you a little problematic.”

I pretended to be indignant. “Who, me? Of course, I would do as the man commands.”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“All right, then, maybe I wouldn’t last one week in a harem without being banned or flogged or whatever. Did you know that women in Saudi Arabia aren’t allowed to drive? Imagine being with a guy who has money to burn and you can’t even drive around in his Ferrari!”

“When in Rome . . .” Frank said casually.

“Bah. I’m certainly not a bra burner, but those views are really a bit too much for me.”

A long discussion about foreign cultures ensued, temporarily distracting me from my ruminations. The sun slowly set and the night brought a pleasant, cool breeze. I was feeling wonderfully lighthearted as Frank and I talked about foreign countries. He told me about the trip to Cuba he had taken with his ex three years ago, giving me vivid descriptions of the current political situation and the people of that fascinating country. His eyes glistened in the candlelight, and his facial features appeared soft and affectionate in the soft glow. Once again, I had to wonder how a woman could be stupid enough to send such a dreamy man packing.

The restaurant was almost empty when Frank paid the bill and we emptied our wineglasses. The night was cool and starlit, so we decided to end the evening with a little window-shopping. Wollbach’s pedestrian zone was tiny, so we did a lap around town. We chatted about subjects of no consequence and just enjoyed the fresh air while we looked at the various items on display.

A lingerie shop caught Frank’s particular attention, although it should be said that the little shop was mostly everyday and practical items meant for sexagenarians. There wasn’t much in the way of lace and satin, but that didn’t stop Frank from praising a particularly ugly combination of a support bra and a control brief. I returned the favor outside a pharmacy promoting a remedy for prostate problems. In a professional manner, I informed him that at his age he should prepare himself for this eventual health issue. I also pointed out a package of incontinence pads on display. Frank accepted my advice good-naturedly and bought me some ice cream as a truce.

All in all, it had been a perfect evening.

When Frank took me home, I was feeling relaxed and pleasantly tired. He accompanied me to the entrance of my apartment building and patiently waited for me to retrieve my key out of the depths of my purse.

When I finally found it, I smiled at him broadly. “It really was a lovely evening,” I said.

“Yes, I think so too.”

“We should definitely do this again. It’s somehow much calmer without Vera constantly butting in.”

Frank laughed. He understood completely. Vera meant the world to me, but deep conversations were just not possible with my best girlfriend. She was much too hyper to spend any time worrying about problems in distant countries.

That was when I realized that Frank and I had never spent an evening alone together.

“I would really like that,” he replied.

On a whim, I stood on my tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks a lot for dinner. Good night!”

“You’re welcome,” he said. He smiled sweetly. “Sleep well.”

“I will,” I said with a wink, and slipped in the door.

Chapter 11

The first time I saw Desiderio after our unplanned beach encounter, there was no vestige of sadness left in his eyes. He looked as self-confident and impertinent as ever.

“You know,” he began slowly while we were standing alone in the conference room, “even though you look ravishing in your nurse’s uniform . . . I preferred the dress code at the lake.”

My heart skipped and I could feel the blood shooting into my face.

“I bet.” I snorted and fussed with some papers to give my hands a task so I would not slap him.

Of course, Desiderio was not oblivious to my reaction. He regarded me provocatively.

“There’s absolutely no reason for you to be embarrassed. Quite the contrary.”

OK, this is getting interesting.

“Excuse me? I’m not embarrassed about anything!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

My God, he’s in top form today!

I crossed my arms and frowned.

“I am considering acquiring a chastity belt,” I declared.

Desiderio laughed out loud. “Oh, not because of me, I hope?”

“Well, right now, you’re the only one harassing me.”

“I’m not harassing you. I merely paid you a compliment,” he said.

Had he?

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “I see it differently.”

He casually shrugged his shoulders. Then he tilted his head slightly to the right. “A chastity belt? Really? And you think that would stop me?” His eyes shone dangerously. “My grandfather was a locksmith.”

How the hell does this guy have an answer to everything? Surely that business about his grandfather can’t be true.

“Can we get to work now, please?” I finally asked, irritated.

“As far as I am concerned, yes,” Desiderio said. “But I don’t know about you. Perhaps you need to tighten the odd screw on your garment?”

I held my breath and pressed the next patient’s file into his chest. “No worries,” I snarled when he took it with a grin. “Everything down there is bombproof.”

“Glad to hear it.”

I called in the next patient with my face blazing. The worst part was that I had let this happen. After all, I had brought up the notion of a chastity belt. How could I have known that he would latch onto the idea like that?

Grandfather was a locksmith . . . What an idiot!

Well, at least I now knew what sort of person I was dealing with. He had demonstrated yet again that his only objective was to get in my pants. I could have spared myself all that contemplation about his reaction to hearing about my date. It really sucked that he had actually made me believe he was seriously interested in me. Thank goodness I had come to my senses in the nick of time.

With grim determination, I tried to disguise my annoyance and go about my work as usual. Desiderio, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber. No one would have suspected that only a minute before he had been flirting as if his life depended on it, while I was running around with a pinched expression and probably looked like I was constipated. My discomfort was so obvious that even Dr. Reinmann noticed.

“Who the hell has got you so upset?” he asked as I stomped past him.

“Patients,” I muttered, and kept walking.

My God, I really had to get control of myself before the whole hospital found out that DiCastello was messing with my head.

But I was utterly unsuccessful, because I no sooner found myself alone with Desiderio than he launched his next attack.

“Psst! What’s that?” he whispered. He pretended to listen for a noise.

Stunned, I stopped and listened. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm.” He lightly shook his head. “I thought I heard a metallic squeal whenever you moved.”

My mouth gaped. That surely was beyond the pale.

I closed my mouth, then replied, “No cause for concern. All of that is nicely lubricated.”

Even as I spoke the words, I realized I had just set myself up for a really awful retort. I rubbed my face in desperation.

“God,” I wailed. “Please spare me your answer!”

Desiderio looked at me with a smirk and said, “I’m not God, but I will be silent nonetheless.”

“You’ll be silent?” I repeated, wide eyed. “Do you think I could have that in writing?”

“If you give me your cell number, I’ll text it to you.”

Jesus, this guy was good!

“Dream on.” I firmly turned him down.

“It was worth a try.”

I took a deep breath. “Listen, I’ve already told you to spare me the come-ons.”

Desiderio regarded me with an almost reproachful look. “How could I possibly ever stop”—he smiled his impish smile at me—“when I’m having so much fun?”

“Oh really, you’re having fun? How nice.” I grunted angrily. “You’re annoying the hell out of me.”

He looked at me with feigned surprise.

“Oh, just shut up already!”

I stormed out of the room to look for the remnants of my senses.

There were many more of these encounters over the next few days. At least Desiderio had the decency to be consistent enough that I got used to his advances and managed not to blush every time. I found that I had to refine my repartee, though, because his seemingly endless repertoire of pickup lines continued to leave me speechless.

As much as he irritated me, I could not say I was too upset about it. What he said was impertinent, rude . . . and sometimes charming. Once, he said to me, “When you apply a bandage, I can’t look away, because you have such beautiful hands.”

The scary thing about it all was that he said such things with so much conviction that it was hard not to believe he meant them. I would have laughed at anyone else, but there was something in Desiderio’s voice that made my heart do a happy dance.

Maybe it wasn’t his fault that I suddenly had cardiac arrhythmias. Maybe I should get myself checked out. Sometimes young people did suffer from such conditions . . . Oh, jeez. Amazing how easily a health care professional could turn into a hypochondriac. Still, I made up my mind to do an EKG on myself the next time I had a night shift.

Just to be on the safe side. You never knew, right?

This dude was slowly but surely driving me insane. One day, in an attempt at wit, I’d asked him if his name could perhaps be translated as “hubris.” He had destroyed my pitiful burn with an erotic look and cooed, “Desiderio means ‘longing.’”

Of course, I had promptly checked his allegation. I’d been shocked to learn it was true.

Longing. Or desire.

I had to admit that the name sort of fit. At least hormonally speaking, with respect to his drool-worthy appearance . . .

I told myself to calm down immediately and turned my attention back to the lovely wallpaper waiting to be hung in Frank’s dining room. I carefully studied the instructions for applying the adhesive while the lord of the manor stood next to me with a skeptical look on his face.

Frank didn’t quite know why he was so dubious about wallpaper. Making a face, he told me that the only place he had ever seen it was his grandmother’s house. He couldn’t say what made that so terrible. When I brought up the possibility of a traumatic childhood memory, he laughed me off and told me that he had nothing but wonderful memories of his grandmother and that they involved a lot of candy and some serious spoiling. Everything had been the way it should be with a grandmother. It was just that he had always found the wallpaper hideous.

I didn’t let his flimsy excuse make me lose my cool, and I studiously ignored his wrinkled brow. The pattern on the wallpaper matched the new design of the dining room too well for me to give up easily. Also, the up and down of painting the living room had really gotten on my nerves, and I’d decided that hanging wallpaper would be a lot less strenuous.

“OK, we have to mix the powder with water until it becomes a paste,” I summarized for Frank. “After that, all you do is spread it on the wallpaper and stick it on the wall. Sounds easy, right?” He seemed unenthused, but I ignored him. “We should probably cut the strips just a little bit long and then trim the edges on the top and bottom with a carpet knife. Or do you think we should cut it exactly? But what if we mismeasure? No, it’s better to leave some room for error.”

Frank grunted something that sounded like “whatever.” I continued to keep my cool despite his bad mood.

“If you mix the paste, I’ll start cutting the first lengths,” I said, pressing the packet with the powder into his hand.

“How much water?” he asked joylessly.

“It’s written on the package,” I replied impatiently and unrolled the wallpaper with great pleasure.

It was gorgeous!

The paper was a soft beige and adorned with silvery, shimmery baroque ornaments. It would go perfectly with the vintage look of the new furniture.

My good taste prevailed, and Frank’s mood seemed to lift with every strip we pasted on the wall. Maybe he didn’t want to spoil my fun as I worked, stepping back every so often to regard my emerging masterpiece.

The first wall was done in no time, and I was asking myself why we hadn’t been wallpapering instead of painting all along. My arms and nerves would surely have thanked me.

“What do you think? Not too shabby, huh?” I beamed at Frank.

He nodded benevolently. “I must admit, I thought it was going to be worse.”

“Worse? Don’t you like it?” I asked in shock. “Oh no, I was so sure that you would once you saw it on the wall. Is it the color? The pattern? Or both? I’m so sorry! But the adhesive hasn’t dried yet, and that means that we can still pull it off, OK?”

Frank grinned, amused by my growing hysteria, and stuck a stray scrap of wallpaper on my forehead. “Calm down, Lena. I love it.”

Relieved, I removed the wallpaper from my head and applied it to Frank’s cheek.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I never would have thought that wallpaper could look so cool.”

“Men,” I sighed, shaking my head while I fought off Frank, who was trying to stick the paper on my mouth.

We monkeyed around some more, trying to stick as many scraps of wallpaper on each other as we could, until we faced each other, out of breath and with wallpaper adhesive in our hair.

“Time out!” I pleaded with a giggle, as I was clearly at a disadvantage and already looked like an envelope covered with stamps. “I give up.”

“You’re just giving up because you’re losing. That’s what it is,” Frank said triumphantly.

“Bullshit! Just you wait until I’ve caught my breath. Then I’ll turn you into a roll of wallpaper.”

He jeered and picked a piece of wallpaper off his neck. His expression turned pensive. “Say . . .”

Frank was interrupted when my phone started vibrating on the table. I grabbed it but didn’t accept the call.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. His serious tone had aroused my curiosity.

“Go ahead and answer that first.” He nodded toward my buzzing phone.

Was he relieved or was that just my imagination?

I studied him carefully as I took the call. “Hello?”

“Lena?”

“Hi, Vera. This is my cell phone. Who else do you think is going to answer it?” I said dryly.

“Who knows? You might have lost it and some celebrity might have found it and I might be talking to a movie star!”

“A celebrity? Here in Wollbach? Sure.”

Frank, who could not figure out this conversation, took the second package of adhesive and disappeared in the bathroom.

“Yes, exactly,” Vera prattled on. “Where are you anyway?”

“At Frank’s.”

“What? Again?” The connection made a noise. “Are you guys still not finished with the renovations?”

“Listen,
Better Homes and Gardens
takes time!”

“Apparently.”

I stopped short. “Don’t you believe me?”

“No, no, of course I do,” Vera immediately said. “I was merely making an observation. Say, what kind of shift do you have next Saturday?”

“I’m off. Why?”

“Because it’s my birthday, you asshole!”

Shoot!
“Of course it’s your birthday. Do you think I don’t know that?” I asked indignantly. I was glad that Vera couldn’t see my facial expression contradicting my statement. I forged ahead. “But that doesn’t mean you have to know what shift I’m working, do you?” Frank returned to the dining room and shook his head with exaggerated disdain. I punched him in the shoulder and wandered into the living room.

“Of course I need to know, because I want to invite you to The Goose for dinner. We’re going to Go afterward to celebrate.”

“Ooh, that does sound good,” I said and really meant it. “Count me in. What time is dinner?”

“Seven thirty. Do you want us to pick you up?”

“No, no. It’s not far. I can walk.”

“As you wish. And please let Frank know.”

“Will do. How about having coffee again one of these days?”

“Thursday?”

“You got it. See you then.”

“Ciao!”

I put away my cell phone and made a mental note:
Buy birthday present for Vera.

Man, sometimes I was pretty lousy in the best friend department. I slunk back into the dining room with a guilty conscience.

“Vera has invited us to The Goose next Saturday at seven thirty,” I told Frank.

“To celebrate her birthday. And afterward, we’re going to Go.” Frank finished my sentence with a smirk. “I know.”

Of course, he was already informed.

“And how do you know, if you don’t mind telling me?” I asked.

“Sebastian.”

“I see. OK, then. Uh, please don’t tell her that I almost made other plans, OK? Otherwise, she’ll be insulted again for days on end,” I pleaded.

He grinned mischievously. “How much is my silence worth to you?”

“A Glock, a shovel, and the prospect of a life sentence.”

“Jeez. In that case, I’d better guard your secret,” he replied quickly, eyeing me as though I were actually an unpredictable psychopath.

“There’s a good boy. By the way, what were you going to say before?”

“What are you talking about?”

His slightly twisted face betrayed the fact that he knew exactly what I was talking about. Now I was getting really curious.

“A while ago, just before Vera called. I believe you started with: ‘Say . . .’”