MALLORY parked the car, gathered the cardboard transport box with the three cones in small cups, and took a deep breath. She’d need all the nerve she could call up. How could she explain to Dr. Berger and Samantha Prescott that she hadn’t been negligent, neither had she abandoned her job, when she’d left the premises while on duty?
She couldn’t.
Her stomach cramped, and she closed her eyes. “I’ve totally blown it.” With her arms covered in anxious tingles, she bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering. She shook her head, hoping to generate an idea.
Having left JT and Corey out back, she got out of the car and retraced her steps to the backyard down the red-brick walk at the side of the house. If she ever got sent before a firing squad, she suspected it would feel something like this.
She heard quarreling long before she reached the gate.
“What if you’d had an emergency?” said Dr. Berger in a grating voice. “What would that trauma do to your son?”
Oh, no. Please, don’t drag Corey into this fight. Don’t force him to take sides or be in the middle of your manipulation. Had Dr. Berger any knowledge of child psychology? He was making Corey feel guilty about loving his father. Please, don’t make him take sides.
She leaned against the garage wall to gather her wits and listened to the voices raised in anger.
“What if he’d fallen and hurt himself?” came Samantha’s shrill response.
“I have a cellphone, Samantha. I’m not an idiot.”
“I…I just wanted an ice-cream cone,” Corey said, sounding forlorn.
“This just shows that I can’t trust Corey with you ever again,” Samantha said, her voice rising. “I’ve said it before, but now I’m adamant. I want total custody.”
“Now is not the time to have this conversation.” JT’s booming response forced everyone into silence.
With the lull, Mallory took a deep breath, opened the creaking cedar gate and drew everyone’s attention her way. Dr. Berger and Samantha glared at her. Corey looked torn about his ice cream, and stopped himself from running up to her after a few steps.
The knot in her stomach grew to the size of a soccer ball.
JT sat straight and proud in the wheelchair, sunlight shining in his raven hair. He clenched his jaw and didn’t so much as glance her way.
Was JT so ready to dismiss her? What about everything he’d said? Pain cut like a searing dagger through her chest. So her fears had been justified. He wanted a playmate, someone to distract him while he healed, but when things got sticky he would cut her free.
She could hardly breathe, but she was damned if she’d give Samantha, Dr. Berger and, most especially, JT the satisfaction of seeing her come apart in front of them.
“I suppose there is no explaining why I left the premises.”
“As a matter of fact, no,” Dr. Berger said with a cutting tone. “Consider yourself fired and pack up.”
“Knock it off, Wayne. She works for me, and I’ll make that decision.” JT used his strong forearms to spin the wheelchair in Wayne’s direction.
“I beg to differ, JT. She works for Mercy Hospital and I’m your attending physician. I deem her guilty of dereliction of duty.” Dr. Berger leaned forward, invading JT’s space. “I believe you authored that regulation in hospital protocol yourself.” He turned his head and stared Mallory down as though he was a deer hunter taking aim. “You’re not to work with Dr. Prescott again. And I’m not sure you’ll have a job at Mercy Hospital either, when this is all over.”
She caught herself from dropping the ice cream. “Corey? Would you like your cone?” For the boy’s sake, she willed herself to stay calm and composed, though her hands were flapping enough to turn the ice cream into milkshakes. Corey edged her way, until Samantha stopped him cold with an admonishing glare.
“Dr. Prescott?” Mallory knew ice cream was the last thing on his mind at this moment, but she had to look at him to see where he stood. He didn’t respond. Not with her apparently. “Right, I’ll get my things.”
Crushed by his passive response, she fought the stinging behind her eyelids. She was damned if she’d let him see how much he’d hurt her. Why had she let herself believe all his flattery—and that was all that it had been—when he’d used her for his own pleasure? How could she have been so stupid? And, most importantly, where was JT now when she needed someone in her corner? He didn’t even have the decency to look at her.
Disheartened and defeated, Mallory made an about-face, dumped the ice cream into the trashcan at the side of the house, and used the garage entrance to go inside to retrieve her nurse’s bag and what was left of her pride.
She’d blown her job, big time, and there was no wriggling out of this one. But, far worse, she’d let herself down by trusting the wrong man. The best thing she could do right now was pack up and leave.
And tomorrow she hoped her nursing position at Mercy Hospital wouldn’t be the next job she got fired from.
* * *
“I need to use the bathroom. Take me inside,” JT said, staring down Wayne. He’d wait until Corey was well out of earshot before he unloaded his anger on Berger.
“I’m going to take Corey home now. I’ll get you some ice cream, sweetie. Don’t worry,” Samantha said, sweeter than sugar.
“Corey? Come here, son.”
The boy moved with hesitation, as though afraid to make anyone angry with him. Damn. JT didn’t want to add to his grief, but he wanted to make sure the boy knew he wasn’t in trouble and wasn’t to blame.
When Corey reached him, he opened his arms to give him a hug. “None of this is your fault. Don’t think for one second that it is.”
Corey’s narrow shoulders stiffened and he nodded his head. “I just wanted ice cream.”
Corey fought back tears, and JT’s heart gripped so hard he thought it might explode from the pressure. “I did, too, and there was nothing wrong with that.” He rubbed his son’s back. “You know how sometimes we talk about making good choices in life? Well, I guess I didn’t do such a good job today. I’m sorry.”
“That’s OK, Dad. I still love you.”
“Kiss your father goodbye. We’re leaving.” Samantha commanded.
Kiss my ass, Sammy. That’s what he wanted to say, but this time he made the right choice and kept his mouth shut. That was after he said, “I love you too, Corey.”
So he’d lost his woman and son for a stinking ice-cream cone. Who’d ever have guessed?
“Wayne, roll me inside,” he said after they’d left. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Wayne looked irritated, like it just dawned on him that he was “it” until home health provided another caregiver. He reluctantly rolled JT inside, and handed him the container to urinate in.
Once Berger had washed his hands, he got on his cellphone and made contact with the home health representative. After he’d arranged for a temporary replacement for Mallory, he rolled JT back toward his bed, then stood there with his hands in his pockets, as if JT could jump from wheelchair to bed without any assistance.
“Help me out here.” JT was determined to keep his cool, though he’d chewed the inside of his mouth until he’d drawn blood.
Looking awkward, Wayne assessed the situation with shifty eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
“Pull me up and pivot me around so I can sit on the bed.”
They performed a clumsy dance but managed to land JT on his bed. Interesting. He caught a potent whiff of Samantha’s favorite overpriced perfume on Wayne’s golf shirt. Maybe they’d spent the afternoon together while Corey had been here? But why had they come to pick him up early? If they’d only arrived twenty minutes later, this fiasco could have been avoided.
“Now lift my legs for me.”
Once JT was on his bed he asked for a glass of water to get Wayne out of the room so he could think straight. How was he supposed to save Mallory’s neck when he’d written the hospital protocol? The coppery taste of blood reminded him to quit chewing the inside of his mouth. And how the hell was he going to explain to her why he’d left her for the wolves? Somehow he had to get back in control of his life.
When Wayne returned with the drink, he grimaced and scratched his neck as he handed it over, looking like he had something he wanted to add to their prior conversation.
“You may think fraternizing with your nurse is OK, but Mercy Hospital will have no part of it.” He set the glass on the bedside table.
JT grabbed Wayne by the collar and yanked him down to his eye level, surprised by his own burst of strength. “What about you fraternizing with my wife, Wayne? Is that acceptable? Would Mercy Hospital be interested in hearing about that?”
JT let go after a long, heated staring contest. Wayne cautiously stood up and straightened his shirt. “She’s your ex-wife, if you recall,” he growled.
“She wasn’t when you started seeing her. We both know that. And Hospital Medical Director is not my ex-job.” He jabbed the air with his finger. “Don’t forget it.”
Wayne backed away from the bed. Sure, JT had been thinking about giving up the job for a full-time medical practice again, but over his dead body would he hand the medical directorship over to Wayne.
“And, furthermore, I’m firing you. From now on Joel Hersh will be my personal physician.”
“I’m sure hospital administration will be most interested in seeing this little photograph I found.” Wayne dug into his pants pocket. “I believe you took it?” He flashed the photo of Mallory with her blouse off her shoulder. “Or maybe this one, too.” He pulled out a blurred black and white photo of the two of them kissing on his bed, when she’d come to visit him last Tuesday night.
JT froze. The second picture had obviously been taken from the surveillance video camera. How much more had they seen?
He thought Jake had turned the system off at his order when he’d been able to talk again. And who had access to his personal camera besides Jake?
Whose side was Jake on?
Crushed by the knowledge he couldn’t trust anyone, and that the only person he dared trust had just gotten fired because he’d been too much of a coward to stick up for her, JT shut down his mind in exchange for emotional paralysis.
“We can strike a deal. Right now,” Wayne said cautiously. “It has come to my attention that Mallory used a part-time chart-room employee to read your inpatient medical records. That violation of the hospital privacy act alone will ensure she gets fired.”
“I gave her permission,” JT lied.
“Rubbish! I know you’ve got the hots for her, and that she has a daughter away at college. I’ll make sure the nurse keeps her job at Mercy, and you can screw her all you want, as far as I’m concerned, if you’ll turn the medical directorship over to me, and Corey over to Samantha.”
“Go to hell, Berger. I don’t do blackmail.”
* * *
Late that night, Mallory tossed and turned in bed. Her lack of professionalism had cost her the extra job, and she was afraid she’d lose her full-time hospital job, too. She’d rushed into a relationship with a patient, a big no-no, and needed to backpedal for a while.
JT had let her down so hard that her wounds would need months to heal. Why couldn’t she have figured it out before she’d gotten hurt?
What was it about JT that had made her cross the line? It wasn’t his chiseled features—she’d come to him when he’d looked his worse. It wasn’t money or power—he’d been at his weakest. It wasn’t charm—he’d been vile toward her at first.
Perhaps it was the look of a fighter she’d identified with. She knew how to never give up, and though he appeared to have completely withdrawn and given in to his disease, she’d seen the glimmer of a warrior in his cold, hard stare when he’d lain helpless in his hospital bed. At first he’d mistakenly directed the fiery look toward her, but as time had gone on those cobalt blue eyes had softened and invited her into his strong-hold. That’s when she’d slipped under his spell. The day he’d accepted her.
Thoughts of JT and the time and intimacy they’d shared, tears, hurt, and frustration kept her from sleeping.
Morgan had moved into the dorm at college two weeks earlier, and the house felt painfully empty. She had no one to talk to, and the one person she craved to discuss this mess with was the last person she could ever contact again, if she wanted to keep her job. But apparently JT wasn’t prepared to risk anything for a relationship with her.
Tears flowed down her cheeks, but nothing could wash away the pain. How foolish of her to ever think she could have what she’d always wanted—a loving relationship with a man—without paying a price.
Her dreary life of all work and no play had little appeal. But back to her sad reality she’d go, grateful to have a job—at least, if Mercy Hospital agreed to keep her on staff.
Starting tomorrow, JT couldn’t exist in her world. She owed it to her daughter who had tuition to pay, and she owed it to herself. The pain of never seeing him again, never taking care of him or laughing with him, was much less than if she’d allowed herself to succumb to him and he’d broken her heart on top of letting her down.
Too bad she’d already fallen in love.
* * *
The stern look of the nursing supervisor scared the life out of Mallory on Monday morning. She had never felt more vulnerable, yet face her she did, forcing a smile and praying for mercy.
Short silver hair framed round cheeks and gray eyes that usually smiled when they saw Mallory, but not today. Today her supervisor’s eyes flashed.
“You’ll be on probation for three months. If any extracurricular activity with any of your patients comes to my attention, you’ll be fired. No questions asked.
“It’s a good thing you have had excellent reviews from every department you’ve ever worked in, your co-workers sing your praises, and we are in the midst of a nursing shortage. Your patient care expertise has literally saved your tail this time. Now, go back to work, and keep your nose clean.”
Mallory could breathe again. She wouldn’t be pounding the pavement, searching for a job, with a sordid reputation following her everywhere she went. She wouldn’t have to pull Morgan from her dream university and have her enroll in the local community college. The only price she’d have to pay was never seeing JT again.
Somehow she felt as though she was getting a lousy deal.
* * *
For the following month, JT worked at his laptop, insisting on doing part of his medical director’s duties from home. Each day he grew stronger and, other than physical therapy four hours a day, all other medical treatment had stopped. He was eating on his own, and even using a walker to get around. It only made sense to pick up some of his duties while he continued to recover. Otherwise he’d spend all of his time thinking about Mallory and driving himself crazy, missing her.
The hardest part of all was staying out of contact with her. But it was for her own good. He’d done nothing but mess up her life, and he owed her a little peace of mind. Yeah, it was much better just to let things lie for now.
He hadn’t seen Corey in two weeks and he looked forward to the upcoming supervised weekend visit. It would be the second visit since the big blow-up. Samantha dangled the boy over his head like a carrot, but little did she know he’d consulted his attorney and the battle for custody was anything but over.
Samantha had started out as ideal wife material. She’d come from a privileged family, just like him. She’d graduated from the perfect college, just like him. She’d dabbled in charity fundraising, which sounded good for a doctor’s wife. And she looked great—the perfect trophy wife, as his father once told him. She had even been good in the bedroom, but they’d never connected the way he and Mallory had. Nowhere close. And he and Mallory had never even made love! No, he’d never called Samantha his soul-mate, but Mallory?
Funny, he’d never believed in the idea of a soul-mate, but lately he’d been rethinking the topic.
Back when he’d married Samantha it had all been about getting ahead, prestige, and power—a soul-mate had been the last thing he’d looked for.
He’d made her sign a prenuptial agreement to protect his family’s wealth, and she’d never forgiven him. And once she’d given birth to Corey, things had never been the same. All she’d wanted had been a bigger and bigger paycheck. How shallow he’d been to marry a woman who claimed charitable fundraising as a career. Thank God he’d finally seen through his errors, and when she’d set her sights on Wayne Berger, he’d filed for divorce.
Samantha had gotten half of everything he’d accrued as a doctor during the course of their marriage in their divorce settlement. Once Corey turned eighteen, she’d be cut back to a mere couple of grand a month. Never having held an actual paid job in her life, no wonder she was chasing Wayne Berger. Her gravy train would run out in eight years.
With several suspicions about Wayne and Samantha spying and conspiring to set him up, he had now developed a few plans of his own, and his attorney was very optimistic about his and Corey’s future under the same roof.
Only one major problem stood in the way. He couldn’t see Mallory again. Not if he wanted his son.
He hadn’t seen Mallory in over a month, and he ached to touch her again, to run his hands across her body. He missed her cheerful, chirpy manner and aggravatingly cute ways every single day. And most of all he missed her beautiful smile. But he had no choice, his attorney had warned him.
The only thing he wanted more than to walk again was to see Mallory.
At least he could rest assured knowing he’d done the most he could on her behalf. After a private phone call to the hospital administrator and the nursing director last month, both of whom owed him a favor or two, Mercy Hospital had agreed to keep her on staff.
And he’d paid Morgan’s first-year tuition in full. It didn’t help missing Mallory one bit, but at least he’d given her something. She deserved much, much more.
He pulled the pictures of Mallory out of his drawer, promising himself it would be the last time he dwelt on memories of their first date almost six weeks ago. What he’d give to run his fingers through her silky soft hair and kiss her pert mouth again. If only…
“You wanted me, boss?” Jake appeared at his study door in his familiar gray uniform.
“Yeah.” JT tucked the pictures away, and switched back to reality. “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”
The stocky, stalwart fix-it man placed a gnarled hand on his hip. “Sure, shoot.”
“Do you still have the letter I gave you about shutting down the ventilator if my condition worsened?”
“Yes. It’s in my safe-deposit box at the bank.”
“I want to thank you. Just knowing that helped me get through that ordeal.”
“I can understand that, JT.”
“I know that you stood to earn some extra money for doing that and, well, I wanted to pay you for being someone I could trust. Here is the check we discussed a long time ago when I wrote everything up.”
“Aw, JT. I can’t take that.”
“I want you to have it.” He handed it to him, and after a moment’s hesitation Jake reached out and took it.
“Thank you, sir.” He stuffed it in his shirt pocket, the one with JAKE mechanically embroidered on it.
“As you know, I’m trying to get custody of Corey, and if anyone found out about that letter, it could really blow my chances.”
“I see what you’re getting at.”
“Could you bring it to me, so I can shred it?”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Oh, and about the day you went to the baseball game. Who gave you the tickets?”
Jake hesitated. His blue eyes became alert. A flash of a look that meant he’d come to a decision had him answering with conviction. “It was Dr. Berger. He gave ’em to me. Asked me not to say anything.”
“Did he come around and talk to you at other times, too?”
“What do you mean?”
“He had a still shot from the video monitor. I was wondering how he got it.”
“I…I shut down the surveillance camera when you told me to. I swear.”
“As he gave you Dodgers tickets, did he ever offer other things to you?”
“Nah. Uh…once he sent me out to dinner—gave me a gift card, you know? He said I’d been working really hard and deserved a nice dinner out. He said he was going to spend some time with you that night and I looked like I could use a steak.”
“When was that, Jake?”
“Uh, I don’t remember the exact date.”
“Was it on a Tuesday night?”
Jake searched the ceiling for his answer and scratched his head. “Now that you mention it, I do believe it was a Tuesday night. The Dodgers had an away game, and I watched it at the sports bar and steakhouse he sent me to. Yeah, the Dodgers played the Giants that night. It was a Tuesday and they were playing in San Francisco.”
“I need to know whose side you’re on, Jake.”
“Yours, JT! That Berger guy tricked me is all. I should have known better.”
He blew out a breath of air and scrubbed his face. “We both should have known better, Jake.”
* * *
Saturday morning, two months after Morgan had left for college, Mallory made her weekly check-in call.
“Hey, sweetie, I’ve got a question. Is the university late sending this month’s tuition reminders out? I never received a bill.”
“Oh, Mom. It’s funny you should ask, because I was told it had been paid up for the rest of the semester. They stuck a notice in my campus mailbox.”
“By whom? Did they tell you?”
“Well, no. I just assumed you had.”
“Could you, please, find out and get back to me? I’d hate it to be some sort of mistake, and then you’d get bounced out of there for having your tuition fee overdue.”
“I’ll look into it on Monday, OK?”
Mallory hung up and folded her arms. Was it possible she was getting a break? Her? Not likely.
* * *
On Monday evening, Morgan called Mallory around eight, California time.
“It’s so weird, Mom. The school said I received a scholarship I don’t even remember applying for. Wouldn’t you think whoever it was would have sent me an announcement or something?”
“You did apply for a heck of a lot of scholarships. Well, what was it for?”
“Don’t laugh. They said it was an anonymous scholarship given for single daughters of single mothers.”
“Well, heck, that could go to over half of your class. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I know. Well, I’ll let you know if I find anything else out.”
Something didn’t feel right when she hung up. But as this was the best news she’d had in a long time and, Lord knew, she could use more good news these days, Mallory wasn’t about to question it. She figured it was about time her luck changed.