A Doctor-Nurse Encounter. Carol Ericson
Can we walk down the street a little to the Chinese place?”
“It’s a deal.” He peeled off the gloves and dropped them into the trash.
When Nick opened the office door for her, the cop on duty stepped to the side, still talking to Petra. Petra’s gaze darted between the two of them, a red tide washing across her face.
“I didn’t know you were in there, Dr. Marino. Since we don’t have any patients today, I figured I’d return some calls and phone in a few prescriptions. I’m just taking a break.”
“No problem.” He shrugged out of his lab coat. “Can you hang this up for me when you get back to the office? Lacey and I are grabbing some lunch.”
Hugging the coat to her chest, Petra raised her brows over a pair of inquisitive blue eyes that Lacey could feel burning into the back of her head until she turned the corner to the elevator. Nick generated a lot of interest and speculation among the women at the office and the hospital.
Well, let them speculate. The least she could do was to buy him lunch. He came to her aid last night and helped out again today. Who would’ve suspected Dr. Marino of having a chivalrous streak?
They trudged uphill on the damp sidewalk, and a slice of blue San Francisco Bay rewarded their efforts when they got to the top. Last night’s rain rinsed the sky clean, leaving a few puffy white clouds tumbling in the breeze.
The afternoon lunch rush had long since cleared out, and only a few tables of tourists remained in the restaurant when they got there.
Keeping that chivalry thing going, Nick pulled out her chair. It had been a while since a man pulled out her chair on a date. Who was she kidding? It had been a while since she’d been on a date. Not that she considered this a date.
“Do you like it spicy?”
He quirked a brow, looking ten kinds of suave, and warmth flooded her cheeks. Good thing this wasn’t a date.
“The food…I mean, do you like spicy food?”
“Yeah, I do.” He shook open the plastic menu. “I’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”
She rattled off a few dishes, careful to stick to the lunch menu. Either he took the hint about her budget, or his mama raised him right, because he ordered one of the cheapest lunch specials.
She poured tea for both of them. “Did you grow up in the Bay Area or are you a transplant like so many others?”
“I’m afraid I’m a transplant but an early one. I moved here when I was eleven. How about you?”
“California native. My parents moved here from Chicago.”
“Does your family still live here?”
“No. My mom died almost a year ago, and my brother, Ryan, is a marine stationed with a peacekeeping force in Kosovo.”
He put down his teacup, keeping his hands wrapped around it. “I’m sorry about your mom. What about your dad?”
She’d never met a man who asked so many questions, especially a doctor. Usually they blabbed on about themselves and their marvelous achievements.
“Do you really want to hear my sad story?”
“Only if you want to tell it. I respect people’s privacy. That’s part of my job.”
She looked into his dark eyes, eyes that invited confidences but gave nothing back. Eyes that encouraged patients to open up about their fears and insecurities about their looks and their deepest desires for love, acceptance and eternal youth.
“My dad was having an affair, and when my mom got sick he just up and left us for the other woman. Then he moved to Florida with the other woman and started a whole new family with her.” She paused as the waiter set down their dishes. “Mom was a nurse and Dad’s a doctor.”
“Oh. Do you want to share entrées?” When she nodded, he served her first and then himself. “When did your father leave? You said your mom died a year ago.”
“My dad left when my brother and I were teenagers. Guess he figured he’d owe less child support. Mom was diagnosed with cancer then, went into remission and had a relapse two years ago.”
“Ah, that explains the specialty in palliative care.”
“Am I that transparent? Why did you become a doctor?”
“The usual reasons.” He lifted a broad shoulder. “I know the nurse who runs your program, May Pritchard. How do you like it?”
And just like that, he had her describing the program and explaining how she was a medical assistant and decided to return to school. By the time she paid the fifteen-dollar bill plus tax and tip, she realized she didn’t know a damn thing about Dr. Nick Marino other than the paltry facts that he moved to California when he was eleven and became a doctor for “the usual reasons,” whatever that meant—probably money, judging by his specialty and lifestyle.
When they stepped off the elevator on their floor, Lacey extended her hand. “I’m going the other way to hit the ladies’ room. Thanks for all your help, Nick. I’ll probably be back in here a few more times, and then I’ll leave Dr. B’s office for his daughter to settle. Maybe I’ll see you around the hospital.”
“I hope so, Lacey.” He squeezed her hand and then disappeared around the corner.
She fished the key to the ladies’ room out of her purse and slid it into the lock. “I hope so” didn’t sound very promising, but then what did she expect? He probably listened to her go on about the nursing program because he felt sorry for her, or worse, he had an interest in May Pritchard, an attractive redhead.
As she washed her hands, the door swung open and Petra stepped into the restroom.
“How was your lunch?”
“It was fine. I wanted to repay Nick for coming to the rescue last night and helping me out today.”
“Just be careful.” Petra’s eyes met hers in the mirror.
“Be careful? I don’t have anything to worry about. I didn’t see the intruder’s face. I can’t identify him, and I doubt he could identify me.”
Petra rolled her eyes. “Not about that. I mean watch yourself with Nick. He’s a player. Total love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. He’ll date a woman two, maybe three times, and that’s it. Nobody gets close to Dr. Nick Marino.”
“I’m safe.” She swiped her lipstick across her lips with an unsteady hand. “I’m not interested in getting close.”
Lacey shoved out of the ladies’ room. The last thing she needed was another arrogant doctor in her life. She chose nursing because of Mom, but vowed not to make the same mistake as her mother by dating doctors. She worked with them—that’s it.
She turned the corner to find a cluster of people at the office doorway. Detective Chu and Nick looked up at the same time wearing matching frowns, only Nick looked more serious than the detective.
Lacey’s heart skittered in her chest, and she took a deep breath. Detective Chu probably just wanted the list of missing narcotics, but why had he shown up in person to get it?
“Did you come by for the inventory, Detective?” Lacey crossed her arms, hugging her purse to her chest.
“I’ll take it, but I think the killer may have been after more than drugs, Lacey.”
Her gaze darted to Nick, who stood stiffly beside her, his own arms crossed over his chest.
“H-how do you know?”
Detective Chu rubbed his jaw and expelled a breath. “Someone murdered Debbie Chase this morning.”
Chapter Three
“M-murdered?”