Seeing Stars: A Loveswept Classic Romance (8 page)

“What’s the point of rehashing the past?” he asked scoffingly, more disturbed then he cared to admit.

“The point is, you still have a place—a future, if
you will—in medicine, but you’re the only one who can find it.”

At the entrance to the Intensive Care Unit, Joe exerted a gentle guiding pressure on his elbow. “First door to your right. I’ll be in as soon as I check the latest lab report on her brother’s blood gases.”

Nick’s senses were instantly heightened. The blipping monitors … the antiseptic odors that seared his nose and throat … the very urgency of the air. Damn, but it was almost a drunken high!

Thirsty for more, he stood in the hallway for a moment, pondering Joe’s insightful comment. Suppose … just suppose he actually hung out his shingle again. A bitter curl lifted one corner of his lip. What patient in his right mind would consult a blind doctor?

Dovie’s delightful laughter floated from the cubicle where her brother lay recovering from his near-fatal bout with CO intoxication. At the door Nick paused and reached into his shirt pocket for his sunglasses. Remembering that he’d left them on the nightstand in Curtis and Linda’s bedroom, he swore softly under his breath.

“Nick—” The name came so naturally to her lips! “I mean, Dr. Monroe.” Confused by her own confusion, Dovie linked her arm through his and drew him toward the bed. “I’d like you to meet my brother.”

After the introductions were made, Curtis mumbled unintelligibly.

“I
think
he said thank you,” Dovie said, her breath catching in her throat for a second when her breast brushed against his muscular arm. “He can’t talk with the oxygen mask on, so I’m serving as his interpreter.”

Her brother’s eyes, however, spoke quite eloquently, narrowing with angry disapproval when she continued to cling to Nick. Embarrassed without knowing why, Dovie let go of his arm.

But when she started to move away, he laid a staying hand on her slender waist, the warm pressure of his fingers seemingly burning through the fabric of her sweater as he held her possessively at his side.

She looked up and was startled to see that his jaw had gone as hard as teakwood. The machine monitoring her brother’s vital signs began blipping a little faster. She glanced at Curtis. What was visible of his face behind the oxygen mask was as red as ribbon candy.

“Oh, Curtis, I can’t wait till you see that baby. He’s a doll! And Nick, you’ll never believe how much he looks like Curtis did when he was born. A carbon copy!” She realized she was rambling to hide her nervousness.

Nick sensed it, too, and replied simply, “We’d better go now so Curtis can get some rest. He’s had a pretty rough time of it today.”

Her brother’s face turned fuchsia.

“I know, but …” Law, why did she feel so torn between family loyalty and her own desire to be alone with Nick? She’d paid her dues. Hadn’t she? “Shouldn’t we wait to hear what Dr. Rodgers has to say about his lab tests?”

A host of perceptions hit Nick all at once. From the monitor, which was running a little rapidly but still well within normal limits, to Dovie’s sudden reluctance to leave, it was obvious that Curtis was trying to lay a guilt trip on her. And doing a damned good job of it, too, judging by the dismay that laced her tone.

“All right.” But just so Curtis would know that
he
knew what was going on, Nick retained his possessive hold on Dovie.

“You’re a lucky young man,” Dr. Rodgers said to Curtis when he stepped into the Intensive Care cubicle. “The tests show that the level of carbon monoxide in your blood has almost returned to normal. But if it hadn’t been for Dovie and Dr. Monroe, your people would be planning a burial instead of a baptism.”

“How’s Linda?” Dovie asked anxiously.

“She’s fine. Her anesthetic during the delivery was ninety-five percent oxygen. We’ve moved her from the recovery room to the maternity ward, if you’d like to stop and see her before you leave.”

“And the baby?”

“Beautiful.” Joe Rodgers clapped Nick on the shoulder and grinned from ear to ear. “Every baby is a miracle, of course, but when
this
baby
screamed while you were massaging him, I got goose bumps.”

“I’ll have to admit to a little nervous chill myself.” Nick’s hand trembled slightly as his thumb moved upward and lightly stroked the side of Dovie’s breast.

Like electricity his touch jolted her every cell. She stood rooted, suddenly not knowing how to act or what to say. At last she turned to Dr. Rodgers. “What caused the carbon-monoxide leak?”

“Purely speculating now, I’d have to say a clogged furnace vent.” He glanced at Nick. “I seem to recall your treating a case very similar to this one several years ago, so what do you think?”

Nick nodded. “That would be my guess too. See, over a period of time, the soot that’s been deposited on the chimney liner during the oil-burning process is loosened by the greater amounts of condensed water vapor produced by the new gas system. Eventually, clumps of soot fall, blocking the vent.”

While Nick went on to warn that everyone who converts a furnace from oil to gas should have the chimney cleaned, he settled his hand just under Dovie’s breast.

She didn’t look at Curtis for fear of the censure she’d find in his eyes. No man had ever laid a hand on her in front of family. But neither did she say or do anything that could be construed as an objection to Nick’s familiarity. No man had ever made her feel this much a woman.

Dr. Rodgers turned to Curtis. “I’ll probably release you tomorrow, so I’d suggest you make arrangements to have your chimney cleaned before you move back in.”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Nick said. “Harley and a man from the gas-service company went back to their house while we were in the delivery room.”

By the time Dovie bid Curtis good-bye, his monitor was going like mad. It gave her a twinge of guilt, but, after telling herself he was in the best possible hands and promising him that she’d check on Linda and the baby, she left the Intensive Care Unit without a backward glance.

“Dr. Rodgers.” A disembodied voice paged him through the hospital corridors. “Dr. Rodgers, please report to Surgery.”

“A doctor’s work is never done.” He smiled at Dovie and shook hands with Nick. “I’ll see you two on Saturday night.”

Then he turned and headed down the hall.

“What did he mean, he’ll see us on Saturday night?” she asked as they waited for the elevator that would take them up to the maternity ward.

“Joe and his wife, Elaine, are giving a Christmas party for the hospital staff, and”—a surprising vulnerability entered his voice—“he asked me to bring you.”

Once inside the elevator, she broke the bad news. “I’d love to go, Nick, I really would, but I
always baby-sit for my brother Jack and his wife, Jayrene, on Saturday night.”

He cornered her—literally and figuratively. “Well, you’ll just have to tell Jack and Jayrene that the man who saved your life wants to collect his reward.”

Caught between his powerful body and the wall, Dovie felt totally defenseless. “But they’re counting on me.”

“So am I.”

She looked up sharply. “They need me.”

Nick leaned down and let his tongue do the talking. The silken tip of it skimmed her bottom lip, bathing it with his own nectar. Then it traced her top lip, all sleek, wet satin … and oh, so tempting. When she opened her mouth to welcome him home he murmured, “So do I.”

“Please …” Reeling, she reached out and sought the support of the waist-high railing that branched out on both sides of her.

“Twenty years you’ve given your brothers and sisters.” Moist lips moved over hers with gentle sipping motions, and her slumbering senses awakened with an intense craving to experience everything she had missed. “Your high-school prom and your graduation party. College and the career of your choice.” Gifted hands conformed her supple hips to his hard heat. “Marriage and a family of your own.”

“Please …” Dovie felt her nipples budding and her body flowering open, preparing for love. How
many Saturday nights had she tucked someone else’s children into bed and wished to be doing something else? Something like this. Flustered, she wrenched her mouth away. “Please don’t ask me to choose. Not again. Not so soon.”

“Twenty years,” Nick repeated thoughtfully as his long, blessed fingers lovingly feathered the back of her neck. “It’s not everyone who’d do that, Dovie, especially in today’s world. Do you regret it now?”

“I …” Stricken, she realized she didn’t know how to reply. When the elevator doors whooshed open, she pushed past him and dashed out.

But there was no escaping the truth. It followed her into Linda’s room, where her sister-in-law radiated a serenity that Dovie envied to the core of her soul. It stalked her to the nursery window, where she stood with her fingertips against the glass and tears glistening in her eyes. The fact that she hadn’t denied her regret was the closest she’d ever come to admitting it.

“Does it help to know that I think you did a hell of a good job raising your brothers and sisters?” Nick stood behind her, not touching her, just there in case she needed a shoulder to cry on.

“Yes.” A sob escaped her throat when her new little nephew opened his rosebud of a mouth and set up a great big howl. “But what I regret more than anything is the way I used them to excuse my own inadequacies.”

“How so?” he prompted softly.

“Do you want to know
why
I missed my high-school prom?”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“It wasn’t because I couldn’t afford a baby-sitter, which is what I told people and which was easier to deal with than the truth.” She dropped all pretense of dignity and began to cry in earnest. “It … it was because no—nobody invited me.”

Nick turned her toward him and gathered her gently into his arms. Dovie cried against him with her elbows folded tightly between them, and her tears brought some new and disturbing stinging behind his eyes. When her sobbing eased, he took her face in both hands and wiped at the wetness on her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Do you want to hear something else?” She hiccuped indelicately and laid her head against his chest. “I’ve known for a couple of years that it was time to cut the apron strings and get on with my life. Last winter, when I learned about a grant program that trains nurse-practitioners to give primary care in rural areas like Spicey Hill, I even went so far as to send for an application.”

“Did you submit it?”

She shook her head, and a lock of her soft, clean hair tickled his chin. “No. I was so afraid that I’d be accepted and then found wanting, I threw it away.”

Running scared … Well, he could certainly relate to that. Hell, he’d been running at Mach
Four ever since that gasoline tank had exploded in his face.

She worked her arms out from between their bodies and slipped them around his lean waist. “It’s kind of funny, really. At the time, I told myself that the kids still needed me too much. But when you asked if I had any regrets, I suddenly realized that I was the one who was all tangled up in the apron strings.”

“I’ve got a nice sharp pair of scissors in my medical bag.” Nick crushed her closer and they clung that way, sharing a new bond of warmth and comfort. “I’d be glad to cut you loose, if you’d like.”

“I’d like.” Her voice was so low, it vibrated. “Do you know what
else
I’d like?”

“Food, I hope.” His stomach grumbled noisily. “Sorry, but it’s a well-known fact that man does not live by excitement alone.”

She gave a gasp of surprised laughter. “Law, this must be one for the record books! I haven’t thought about food in almost twelve hours.”

“Well, put your thinking cap back on, because I’m buying dinner.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m starved!”

He released her and grinned. “What was it you wanted to say before I so rudely interrupted you?”

Dovie turned to look again at her newborn nephew, as pink and round and perfect as a Christmas angel. The confusion and weariness of
the day, the worries and sorrows of a lifetime, fell away from her like a worn-out robe.

When she finally turned back to Nick, she felt the fluttering of hope in her heart. “I wanted to say that if the invitation for Saturday night is still open, I’d like to try my wings.”

Cupping the telephone receiver between her shoulder and her ear, Dovie reached around behind her back and zipped up her new dress. “No kidding, Arie, when I looked in the mirror after that man was through with me, I said ‘This isn’t a make-over. It’s a miracle!’ ”

Her youngest sister’s laughter caroled merrily over their long-distance connection. “Well, it’s about time you spent some money on yourself.”

“It wasn’t that expensive, if you want to know the truth.” Perching on the edge of the bed, Dovie slipped her slender feet into black satin pumps. “All they charged me for was having my hair styled. They did my makeup for free—some sort of a sales promotion. But I’ll probably be a month of Sundays paying off the clothes I bought to complement the new me.”

“What color is your dress?”

“Would you believe fire-engine red?”

Arie whistled appreciatively. “I’ll bet it’s smashing with your dark hair and doe eyes.”

Smashing? Dovie stood and examined her reflection in the cheval mirror across the room. It was the most daring dress she’d ever owned!

The crushed-silk halter top lifted and supported her generous breasts, while leaving her shoulders and back seductively bare. Soft torso shirring and the long, pencil-slim skirt accented her other hourglass attributes. Her only jewelry was a new pair of jet eardrops, but her sequined cardigan sweater was guaranteed to light up the night.

Standing in front of the mirror in the boutique, her confidence buoyed by a two-hour session with the beauty consultant, she had thought she looked pretty glamorous. But now, seeing the woman in red reflected in her own mirror, she feared she’d gone too far in trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

“How’s Linda?” Arie asked.

“Oh, she’s fine.” Stretching the telephone cord as far as it would go, Dovie began rummaging frantically through her closet for a different dress to wear tonight. “I stopped by the hospital before I went for my make-over this morning, and she said the doctor is going to release her tomorrow.”