“What would I have to do?” Cole asked wryly. “Turn into a Smurf
and bring a ukulele?”
Coffee sloshed and Laird had to sidestep to keep his shoes dry.
“Don’t make jokes when I’m holding a drink.”
“Sorry. What’s a Blue Hawaiian?”
Laird dropped a couple of paper napkins on the floor and pushed
them around with his foot to sop up the spilled coffee. “It’s a tropical drink.
I have no idea what’s in it but they’re delicious. You interested?”
“Sure.” Cole ought to get out more, so why not? As for the idea
of inviting Stacy for a drink, he had no business putting his scrub nurse in
such an awkward position.
“Really?” the psychologist said.
“If you didn’t expect me to agree, why did you ask?” Come to
think of it, Laird
had
extended a few previous
invitations that Cole had declined.
The psychologist shrugged. “You may be the closest thing Safe
Harbor has to a hermit, but underneath, you strike me as a regular guy.”
“Thanks.” Cole didn’t intentionally keep to himself. However,
he’d arrived in Safe Harbor last year still raw from a breakup with a smart,
attractive and, as it turned out, aggressive attorney. Felicia’s unsubtle hints
about expecting a ring for Valentine’s Day—with an implied
or else—
had triggered Cole’s realization that he had no interest in
marrying her. While he’d done them both a favor by breaking things off, she
hadn’t taken it that way. Her nasty insults on parting had stung, although
they’d also confirmed the impression that she was the wrong woman for him.
“Where is this saloon?”
“On Suncrest Avenue next to Waffle Haven. Right off the main
bike path,” Laird said.
“I do own a car.” For safety, Cole normally drove after
dark.
“You can’t walk your car home if you overindulge.” The
psychologist moved aside to let a janitor clean up the spill.
“You can get a ticket for drinking and driving on a bike, can’t
you?” Cole recalled reading that somewhere.
“Maybe, but it’s not likely unless you weave down the middle of
Safe Harbor Boulevard.”
“I’ll take that into account.” Cycling in the quiet of the
evening amid the twinkle of house lights might be fun. “What time?”
“Nine-ish.” With a wave of his free hand, Laird departed.
Cole decided against checking the patio. Most likely Stacy had
left, and besides, she might mistake his professional concern for something
more.
And I might mistake it, too.
Although he’d heard of several happy marriages among the Safe
Harbor staff, workplace romances often backfired in an ugly fashion. And the
person on the lower end of the power structure was usually the one who got hurt.
Cole didn’t intend to do that to Stacy.
He just needed to socialize more. Starting tonight.
Chapter Two
Stacy’s walk on the beach carried her all the way to
the harbor. Since she didn’t feel like going home yet, she treated herself to a
pita supper at the Sea Star Café by the pier. Seated outside, she relaxed in the
salt air, watching sailboats glide to and from their moorings, listening to the
slap of water and the indistinct voices of tourists sauntering along the
wharf.
Her thoughts kept returning to her unplanned reaction to Una’s
good news. Once upon a time, Stacy had longed for her own babies, but only if
she could raise them in a loving marriage such as her parents shared, and her
sister had found. Sure, other women raised kids alone—including Stacy’s
roommate, a fellow nurse. But Harper, the widowed mother of a young girl, hadn’t
chosen to be a single mom.
Stacy wanted more for her biological kids. And she’d given it
to them. A stay-at-home, Una had a wonderful husband, Jim, and an adopted
two-year-old daughter. There’d be family support and full-time nurturing, like
Stacy’s mother had provided.
At twenty-eight, Stacy hadn’t given up on happily-ever-after.
But most programs required egg donors to be under thirty, so she’d felt some
time pressure. As for her own future, she still didn’t understand how the deeply
caring relationship with her husband had fallen apart after only four years.
True, the excitement and romance of their early days had naturally faded, but
she’d considered that temporary, due to her busy schedule and Andrew’s having to
travel for an international investment company.
She’d believed she’d found the kind of enduring passion that
had nourished her parents’ marriage for more than three decades. But Andrew had
fallen out of love, he’d said, and relit an old flame with his high school
girlfriend, who was now his wife.
Surely there must be a man who could love Stacy with the same
ardor her father felt for her mother, but since Andrew’s betrayal, she found it
hard to trust anyone. As for having kids, it might happen. Or it might not.
She felt a little ashamed of her reaction today, although she
supposed she should have expected it. Her light-headedness might also stem from
the arrival of her period. She’d seen a few signs this morning marking the end
of her cycle.
She wished Dr. Rattigan hadn’t witnessed her meltdown. He
had
been awfully sweet, though.
My favorite scrub nurse.
It might not sound like much of a compliment to anyone else,
but it boosted her spirits.
Some of the nurses considered him a cold fish. In Stacy’s
opinion,
reserved
was a better word. Cole tended to
observe people with a slight smile, as if he found them a fascinating alien
species. So today, when he’d loosened up, it had been all the more special. She
felt lucky to work with him.
As she walked back to the hospital, Stacy put in a call to Una.
The mom-to-be was bubbling with high spirits. Judging by the happy noises in the
background, she and Jim must be surrounded by family and friends. Stacy kept the
conversation short and upbeat.
Afterward, she felt glad that she’d called, but let down, too.
She’d expected to share in the joy when Una became pregnant, and instead she
felt like an outsider.
She drove north to the apartment complex where she shared a
two-bedroom unit with Harper and her six-year-old daughter, Mia. As Stacy
mounted the outdoor steps, the mouthwatering aroma of baking drifted toward her,
along with the chatter of children’s voices through an open window.
“Quit dropping sprinkles on the floor!” That was Mia, a
take-charge little personality.
“I missed my mouth, okay?” replied a boyish soprano.
“Stop eating all the cupcakes!”
“I only had two. Anyway, Aunt Stacy won’t care.”
That must be Reggie Cavill. Although not really Stacy’s nephew,
he might as well be. His late mom, Vicki, had been best friends with Stacy and
Harper through high school, and they’d stayed by her side through her pregnancy
and birth. Since her death in a car crash a few months ago, Reggie lived nearby
with his real aunt, Dr. Adrienne Cavill, who also happened to be Stacy’s ob-gyn.
He often visited them and sometimes spent the night.
Glad to arrive home to a happy, noisy household, Stacy opened
the door to a blast of yummy scents from the kitchen, to her right. Mia Anthony
was perched at the table, her honey-brown hair falling around her face as she
bent over a platter piled with cupcakes. Beside her, Reggie had managed to smear
chocolate not only on the tip of his nose but also in his hair. As usual, he
wore a solemn expression that made him seem older than five.
“Did I hear somebody mention my birthday?” Stacy teased,
setting her purse aside.
“We did!” Reggie said artlessly.
“Are you ready for dessert?” Mia asked.
“Absolutely.”
Stacy took scant notice of the toys and picture books littering
the living room. It held a mishmash of furnishings, anyway, her delicate white
sideboard and floral armchair nearly lost beside Harper’s heavy, curved brown
sofa and dark-wood entertainment center. As old friends, they’d made the best of
things for the past few years, combining their meager budgets and housefuls of
furniture.
Now that Harper had landed a better-paying job assisting Dr.
Nora Franco, she could probably afford a larger place. Stacy hoped they wouldn’t
move anytime soon, although that might be more comfortable for Harper and Mia,
who shared a bedroom.
“Since you like both flavors, we made vanilla cupcakes with
chocolate icing,” said Harper, drying her hands at the sink. An athletic
five-foot-nine, she didn’t seem the least tired after working all day and then
picking up the kids at the hospital day care center. The woman was an
inspiration.
“You are so thoughtful,” Stacy said. “Thank you so much, all of
you.”
“Hold on.” Harper plucked a box of twisty birthday candles from
the counter. “Back off, kids. I’m gonna set these suckers on fire.”
“Hurray!” Reggie hopped up, nearly overturning his chair.
Stacy rushed to steady it, and planted a kiss atop his fuzzy
head. He’d had a rough time, this little kid, with an absent father and an
emotionally turbulent mom.
Harper began sticking candles into the cupcakes. “Somebody
count.”
“One, two, three!” shouted Mia.
“Four, five, six!” cried Reggie.
“That’s enough,” Harper said. “Right?”
“Plenty.” Stacy didn’t care about the candles. She was simply
enjoying being there with her unconventional family. A duo of adorable handmade
teddy bears watched the proceedings from a corner table. One wore a white coat
and stethoscope, the other a pink nurse’s uniform and cap.
They’d arrived yesterday from her mother and sister’s boutique
in Utah. Although Stacy had grown up in Orange County, her parents had moved to
Salt Lake City to be near their elder daughter, her husband and their four
children.
As the candles caught fire, the children stared with
fascination at the tiny flames. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” Harper said. “I
bet I can guess what it is.”
“That one already came true.” Stacy had leaned on Harper for
support during her sojourn into the egg donor experience. “Una’s expecting!”
“Wonderful.” Harper nodded at the candles. “Well, wish for
something else, and get a move on before the wax drips.”
Closing her eyes, Stacy wished for...fun. She’d spent too much
of her life worrying about other people, loving, losing, falling short, hoping
and stressing out. It was time to enjoy being young, healthy and free.
Fun.
Keeping that word in mind, she
blew.
The candles winked out, drawing cheers from the children.
Everybody grabbed a cupcake and began peeling away the paper. For the next few
minutes silence reigned while they ate.
As she licked icing from her fingers, Stacy listened to Mia
start in on a familiar theme: she wanted to adopt a kitten, like a couple of her
school friends. The apartment complex didn’t allow pets, however, so that was
out of the question. It took all of Harper’s persuasive abilities to draw her
and Reggie into a discussion of which cartoon to watch before bedtime.
As much as Stacy loved spending time at home, watching kids’
shows wasn’t the kind of fun she’d wished for. She ought to check out that club,
after all. She might even meet a guy. She refused to torture herself with
fantasies about Mr. Right—just someone to make her feel desirable again.
From the moment Stacy had filled out the egg donor paperwork,
she’d lost interest in dating. There had been too much else going on. Then,
after taking fertility hormones this month, she’d been warned to avoid sex for
the rest of her cycle. If the harvesting procedure had missed any microscopic
eggs, the risk of a multiple pregnancy would be high.
Getting her period today would mark a fresh start. A
re-birthday. When Stacy excused herself and went into her bedroom to change, she
tucked a package of condoms into her purse. Not that she intended to go home
with a man. Seeking reassurance after her divorce, she’d foolishly jumped into
bed with someone she didn’t care about, and suffered an emotional backlash
afterward.
But playing it safe never hurt.
* * *
I
T
WAS
A
QUESTION
Cole dreaded.
“What kind of doctor are you?” asked his dance partner, a perky
blonde woman. With the club brightened only by swirling lights, and echoing with
Elvis Presley’s baritone, there’d been little chance for conversation before
they hit the floor.
“Men’s doctor,” he shouted over the music.
Her pretty features scrunched. “Come again?”
Why fight it? “Urologist.”
The response was immediate. “Ick!”
It’s not what you think.
But how
did he presume to know what she thought? So Cole merely shrugged.
The woman—he thought her name was Billie, but he might have
misunderstood—gave him a look that said
Did you flunk out
of every other possible specialty?
“Thanks for the dance,” Cole told her as soon as the song
ended, and returned to the table he shared with Laird and Ned Norwalk from Dr.
Tartikoff’s office.
Laird had disappeared. Ned Norwalk, a tanned blond who went
surfing most mornings before work, was slouched in his chair. “Not a
keeper?”
“She didn’t seem impressed by my specialty,” Cole conceded.
“You should try telling her you’re a male nurse.”
He’d never considered Ned’s occupation in that light. “I get
‘ick.’ What do you get?”
“They assume I’m gay.” Ned shook his head. “Why do they think
I’m here dancing with women if I’m not interested in them?”
“Surely you have plenty to choose from.” In the cafeteria, Cole
often saw him surrounded by female nurses. “You have a lot of attractive
friends.”
“My
friends
go and marry doctors,”
Ned responded cynically. “I’m surprised one of them hasn’t snagged you yet. But
you’re new. Give ’em time.”
Cole
had
intercepted a few
interested glances, and pretended not to notice. He’d always kept his work and
his private life separate.
That made his sensitivity toward Stacy even more surprising. He
simply liked her, that was all.
In a break between songs, Ned remarked, “Now, there’s one I
wouldn’t mind getting to know better. Oh, damn. Laird beat me to her.”
Before Cole could see who he meant, a waitress in a
Hawaiian-print top and minuscule shorts blocked his view. “Refill?” She
indicated the icy, blue-tinged glasses in front of them.
“What’s in these?” Cole hadn’t had a chance to ask earlier.
“Why do you care?” Ned asked. “They’re great. Make mine a
double.”
The waitress nodded.
“I care what chemicals I... Just curious.” Cole regarded the
woman expectantly.
She rattled off the ingredients. “A Blue Hawaiian contains rum,
pineapple juice, blue Curacao liqueur and crème de coconut, garnished with a
cherry and a pineapple wedge.”
One more couldn’t hurt, he supposed. “I’ll have a single.”
She departed, unblocking Cole’s view. Writhing bodies and
spinning lights commandeered his field of vision. Among them, he spotted Laird’s
muscular shape gyrating close to his companion.
The scattered lighting coalesced into a soft glow, illuminating
the woman. It picked out a hint of gold in her light brown hair and cast a rosy
hue across her fair skin. Stacy must have recovered from her earlier shakiness.
Still, dancing and drinking weren’t what the doctor ordered.
Dancing and drinking with Laird were definitely not what
this
doctor would order.
The rapid beat of the music gave way to a slow rhythm. As the
King’s voice wove a seductive spell, Laird’s hand claimed Stacy’s waist and he
eased closer. It seemed to Cole that she stiffened slightly before yielding.
“Wonder what she’s doing here?” Ned mused. “She didn’t seem
interested in coming.”
“You invited her?”
“Her and a few others. Guess it wasn’t my lucky night.” Cole’s
friend regarded him assessingly. “You could cut in.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You can’t take your eyes off her.”
The waitress set drinks in front of them. After she moved away,
Cole searched for the couple, who soon circled into view. Stacy winced as they
got a little too close to another couple, and the other woman bumped her. Laird
ought to pay more attention to his steering and less to the revealing V of
Stacy’s blouse.
“You think this calls for a rescue operation?” Ned must have
noticed Stacy’s predicament, too.
Tempting, but she’d probably come with a group of friends. Cole
wasn’t about to make a fool of himself by playing knight in shining armor to a
damsel who’d brought her own backup.
He made a quick scan of the restaurant. In the dim interior, it
was hard to pick out individuals. There must be several hundred people packing
the dance floor and the ultramodern chairs and tables, their faces hazy beneath
the spherical lighting fixtures. Above them, wall sculptures shaped like
surfboards—or maybe they
were
surfboards—and tiki
carvings loomed like fog-shrouded landmarks.