Smolder (3 page)

“You ordered her to a shelter,” he stated flatly.

“No, I suggested it was the best way to go now that her kids are safe. I didn't order her to do anything. It was her choice.”

“And flipping him off in the parking lot?”

“She came up with that on her own. Although, I have to say, I like her style.” I smiled at him.

He smiled back, and I felt a twinge in my nether regions.

“You are going to be a challenge to me.” He winked.

I grinned back. “I'm assuming from the wink that you are looking forward to saving me from myself.”

“Something like that. I got into law enforcement to save damsels in distress.” Something flashed across his eyes.

“What was that?” Not like I could pretend I didn't notice.

He took a deep breath. “I didn't save one. It bothers me.” He got up and walked away without another word.

I mulled over the conversation as I made my way back to my office. Lee greeted me with a wave while she talked on the phone. Lee had placed office supplies on my desk with an inbox, to-be-signed box, and desk calendar. The inbox was empty, but signatures were required on a couple of forms from orientation. I signed those and carried them back to her.

She was off the phone looking up as I came in. “You caused quite a stir this morning.”

“Hospital gossip is the fastest in the known universe.” I smiled. “I only helped a woman who needed it.”

“Not that, no one is arguing with that. That lady has needed to get away from him for years.” She paused and I raised an eyebrow. “It seems both Chief Mata and Dr. K became very concerned about you while you were in the patient’s room.”

Now that'll get a girl’s attention. “Uh huh. And what does the grapevine say?”

“The nurses want you to go for the Chief. Hot and wounded is perfect for a psychologist.”

She made it sound like a great idea. Except the same gut instinct that warned me I was in trouble outside of Vivian’s room wanted me to stay away from the former detective.

“Except if I don't want to have more work at home than the office. And you, what do you think?”

“I like Dr. K. He's not as smooth as he tries to come across, but he loves saving people and, well, that accent is adorable.”

I couldn't argue with her. He was sexy, educated, had a real job saving lives. I had to smile; my mother would have pushed me into him had she still been alive.

The end of my first full day at work and I had two problems—two gorgeous men turned my head, and one dangerous one threatened me. I needed to get home to that calming backyard with coffee and a good book.

Chapter Three

The ride home was tough as I tried to forget the threat to my life. I was still too new here to hit autopilot on the way. My place welcomed me as I pulled into the garage. I had one of the few houses with a full garage and tonight I was grateful. For some reason, I always felt most vulnerable getting in and out of my car.

“Welcome home,” I said as I wandered into the kitchen and turned the light on over the stove. I moved to the small bedroom at the back of the house—living anywhere else and I would have lowered the blinds when I changed. But here the only things that could see me lived in a marsh. It's very likely they were more startled by clothes than nudity.

Oh yeah, my head is in the right place tonight.

Dressed in cotton sleep pants and a tank top, I moved back to the kitchen and heated up some canned soup. Decaffeinated coffee brewed behind me as I stirred dinner. My brain went back over the day to assess how much trouble I could be in. I kept running over the conversation in my mind. I didn't actually tell her to leave her husband, it was like I told Owen. I was just in the room when she decided she had enough.

I doubt anyone truly psychotic would believe that line, but it helped soothe my mind for a moment. After all, if he did threaten me, I just had to put in a restraining order for the house and hospital.

Hardly soothed but with a more organized brain, I poured my soup into a bowl, grabbed an entire stack of saltines and a bottle of water, and headed to the back patio. Just off the pool, the patio was covered and looked out over the rest of the small yard. The pool stuck out of the right side of the back of the house. It turned the building into an L with the patio snuggled into the curve and the yard with the bench and garden stretching out in the other direction.

I heard my cell phone ring from the kitchen counter but didn't get up. Professional hazard was that phone calls that were meant to be momentary ended up lasting for hours as someone inevitably started spilling their current concerns and expecting unconditional support. That went double for family members.

My friends understood my hesitation to answer every call so we stayed connected by email unless it was an emergency. I would have thought that made things more stilted, instead I got wonderful stories and the pictures of their spouses and brand new children right away.

I finished up my soup and nibbled on the crackers as the sun set over the water. A couple of boats went by in that slow, southern, “nothing happening, so why hurry” speed that drove tourists nuts.

Coffee and curiosity brought me inside shortly after sunset, and I checked the voicemail. I didn't recognize the whole number, but I did recognize the Atlanta area code. I listened to the voicemail.

“Ellie, its Owen Mata. We have the husband in custody. He attempted to attack her when she left the hospital. She’s fine and was able to catch a flight out of the airport headed north just a few minutes ago. He's still here, but we have him locked up on a number of charges. I wanted you to know he’s not a threat to you anymore. Call me when you can.”

Well, that was nice of him. A knot of tension released between my shoulder blades. I didn't feel like talking to the hot cop, so I texted him a thank you and let him know I would stop by his office at work tomorrow. He suggested lunch, and I agreed.

I had trouble focusing on the mindless television I used each night to lighten my mood. Not because I was thinking of psychotic men in wife beaters, but hot cops without shirts.

At one point, my imagination merged Dr. K and Chief Mata and I must have dozed off because I realized I was kissing a hot Russian cop with a cut body and a cute accent. Okay, bedtime. I drifted off to sleep with those images in mind and woke up rested and in need of a cold shower.

I walked into the office and was greeted by the effervescent Lee. She handed me a coffee and followed me into my office. A smile on her face stopped me from asking any questions. She gestured to my chair so I sat down, and she turned to make sure no one had entered the office.

“So, Chief Mata or Dr. K?” she asked.

“We had this conversation yesterday, nothing has changed.” I looked at her and she blushed. “Okay, what changed?”

“Dr. K came in early today and was yelling at his residents. When they asked him why he was so upset he just said, ‘Someone I care about was threatened yesterday, and I'm worried.’” She glowed and her smile could not have been bigger.

“I see you are still pro-Dr. K,” I noted. “He barely met me, so the someone he cares about could be someone else.”

“Like you said, we discussed this yesterday. And now, it seems he is very interested in you. Even his residents came by to see if you were all right.”

I shook my head. The speed gossip travels at hospitals wasn’t exaggerated by television medical dramas. If anything, it traveled faster and my assistant was part of the network. That would work to my advantage if it wasn’t me they were talking about.

My phone messages consisted of a few concerned staff members checking on me and the rest were requests for help. I headed first to the intensive care unit. If you’ve never seen someone going through alcohol withdrawal, you should save yourself the agony. It was an ugly sight. Anger, pain, and hallucinations are present at the same time so I get yelled at, propositioned, and then accused of being evil all within one thirty minute interview.

Family members stand by trying to apologize for the patient, appalled by what they hear, and offer stories of how wonderful the person tied to the bed really was. It was harder on them than me, and I tried to get them to stay home until the patient came out of it. Unless they were the ones giving their loved one alcohol, in which case keeping them nearby lessened the chances they'd buy them alcohol after the patient went home.

It was a rough start to a day, but I managed to calm the person down and removed their family with a promise to have the nurse call when the patient began to recover.

I next headed to the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU). This was where tiny bodies tried to recover from accidents and beatings. The older ones tried to tell me they weren’t attempting to kill themselves, they just wanted to see how many of their parent’s pills they could take at one time and survive. The experienced ones could say that to me with a straight face. At fourteen years old.

I stepped out of the PICU when Chief Mata showed up.

“Hello,” he said.

“Are you following me?” He was sexy and a little dangerous. The warning bells went off in my head, the ones I ignored every other time a sexy man who would break my heart walked by. I was amazed by how persistent they were given that I’d never heeded the warning before.

“I don't have to. We have security cameras everywhere.”

I didn't want to tell him I was grateful after yesterday, but a part of me was also concerned the people who report to him could watch me everywhere I went. “That's a little creepy.”

“I promise to tell them to stop looking if you pull me into a janitorial closet.” He laughed as he escorted me to the cafeteria.

“That's nasty. Only on TV would they get it on in a room full of that many chemicals.”

He looked like I slapped him.

“Not when we are in a building full of beds,” I added.

I smiled stepping in front of him as we entered the cafeteria. Chief Mata couldn't go into the doctor's lounge, so we dined in the cafeteria near a group of surgical residents. A few stolen glances from the residents didn't go unnoticed, but he didn't mention it.

“We still have him locked up,” he said as he finished his meal.

“I assumed that or you would have told me,” I replied. I wondered why he kept bringing it up. “Are you trying to scare me, or are you genuinely concerned?”

The pause before he answered told me he was concerned before he admitted it.

“I'm worried. That man doesn't care about hurting women.” He stopped and finished off his sweet tea. “In fact, I think he enjoys it.”

“The worst kind,” I finished for him. “They love what they do, and that makes them more than mean. It plows through cruel and heads into serial killer territory.”

His eyes locked onto mine, and I was struck again by his raw sexuality. This was a man who would take you to bed, make you beg for more, and leave while you trembled in gratitude. I knew the type well, depths of sensuality and passion that would pull me in and drown my own needs with his. I mentally shook the intoxicating image from my mind to find him impressed with my knowledge.

“You have done your homework.” He looked impressed.

The remainder of the image shattered as I realized he was surprised. Law enforcement officers tended to forget that serial killers and other depraved individuals were studied in detail in psychology.

“It's my job to study anyone who falls outside of what society decides is normal,” I replied.

“You sound offended.” His gaze softened with an unspoken apology.

“I don't agree with the idea that psychologists are just paid to be friends; we notice subtleties in human behavior that others let pass by as quirks. I also disagree with the separation of what is normal and abnormal. Labels separate and categorize symptoms and you lose the individuals in there.” I hated labels with a passion. And somehow, I ended up in a profession that not only assigned and sorted people by labels, but I wrote them down in medical charts.

It's why I was very careful with every diagnosis and made sure I treated every person as an individual. In a busy hospital, it's highly likely I'm the only one who could take an hour each day to visit my patients and listen to both them and their families.

“Labels help me decide who I need to spend resources on,” he defended himself. But it was a soft-spoken, weak defense.

Dr. K is looking better, Lee will be thrilled. So will my family.

As if he could read my thoughts, Dr. K walked up to our table.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Quinn.” He nodded at Chief Mata. “Mata.”

“Doctor,” Chief Mata responded leaning toward me in his chair. It was like he wanted to mark the table, and thus me by association, as his territory.

“Doctor," I nodded to him and took the offered hand. A gasp went up from the residents’ table across the way. Apparently, we had an audience. I smiled and waved at them and watched their embarrassed faces snap back to stare at the tabletop.

“Dr. K, I need to speak with you about the patient I saw this morning,” I explained, hoping it would also ease Chief Mata's mind about my prompt exit. I didn’t need to upset the security chief.

“I'll stop by your office this afternoon," Chief Mata said, staring pointedly at me.

“Good, I'd love to continue this later.” I smiled and released my hand from Dr. K's soft grasp and walked with him to the elevator.

“The security chief looked jealous,” he said as he put his hand on my back to guide me into the elevator. My back tingled and I found myself slowing down to feel the pressure of his hand.

Damn, that accent was hot. Every time I heard it I thought of the sexy spies in old movies, the ones where we knew who the bad guy was, but when he whispered something his Russian accent made me want him anyway. I was sure Dr. K could whisper anything to me and I would nod and hold on.

I imagined him in a tuxedo guiding me on the dance floor while he whispered in my ear. It took me a moment to refocus on where we were. “He might have been upset you interrupted our lunch.” I smiled back at him as he hit the floor for our offices.

The doors opened to reveal Lee standing with one of the security guards.

“Is there a problem, Lee?” I asked.

She looked flustered and this, I knew without being told, was unusual for her. She usually looked closer to my twenty-nine years than her forty-two except for now, when she looked worried and older.

“There was a strange warning on the voicemail when I came back from lunch. I thought it might be that creepy man from yesterday, but security said the call came from inside the hospital.”

She clearly didn’t believe them.

“Is her office safe?” The question came from Dr. K who had his hand now firmly planted in the small of my back as we exited the elevator.

Two more security guards rushed toward us. They looked like they wanted to run but couldn't, so the result was actually pretty funny. I tried to stifle my smile as they were in obvious distress. I wasn’t taking this threat seriously, the “creep” Lee referred to being in jail.

“He’s in jail, Lee. Chief Mata reiterated it today.” I hoped this would calm her down.

It took a lot to get me upset, which helped in my line of work. When normally cool and calm people started to get antsy, it set off my alarms and I tended to follow suit, even if I wasn't sure exactly what the fuss was about.

She appeared to calm down, especially when they explained they found a couple of over-exhausted residents in a conference room who confessed to making the call. The security guards had hurried to tell us it was a bad prank.

“Why?” I asked.

Security didn't have an answer, only one of them attempted a guess. “They haven't slept in two days, we’re lucky they can still stand up right now. Sorry for the inconvenience.”