Socialite...Or Nurse In A Million?. Molly Evans

Socialite...Or Nurse In A Million? - Molly Evans


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I called a friend of mine that I went to high school with. He owns a coffee delivery service.”

      “But—”

      “And I talked him into making a charitable donation to the clinic for the tax write-off. He was pleased with my suggestion.” She turned away and reached for the door.

      In a split second, before he could even think about what he was doing, Miguel reached over her head and slammed the door shut, trapping her between the door and his body.

      With a gasp she whirled and raised her face to his, only inches away. “Open this door.”

      “No. Not until you listen to me.”

      “You didn’t listen to me. Why should I listen to you now?” She continued to glare up at him, and he could see every speck, every detail of the irises of her eyes, and the way the pupils changed.

      “I’m not letting you out of here until you let me apologize.” Though it nearly choked him to say it, it was the right thing to do.

      Surprise covered her face for an unguarded second, and her pupils dilated at the rush of pleasure his words caused. When her lips parted, they drew his attention. If he were a different man in a different situation, he wouldn’t have hesitated to close the gap between them and find out how soft her lips were. If he were a different man, he’d take her in his arms and press her length against his. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He couldn’t.

      When she blinked and looked at him with a softening in her expression that made him want more than anything to take that step, he choked down that feeling of want that she unknowingly stirred in him. The muscles in his arms trembled from the effort of holding himself back. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he began to lean forward, began to make that move toward her. Something in him held back and he froze.

      They remained locked in that position for a few more seconds until Miguel slid his hand down the door to the knob. If he didn’t hold on to something he was going to make a move he’d likely regret.

      “I’m sorry, Vicky. I should have listened to you before I jumped to conclusions. I was irritated at being late and starting out the day so far behind in patients. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He took a step back from her and drew in a deep breath, shaken by the memories that statement roused. “I overslept this morning, which always puts me in a foul mood.”

      “I accept your apology, but the coffee situation is totally your fault.”

      “What?” Now that certainly got his attention. “How?”

      “After you fixed my car with the plunger, you said that when working around here you had to be creative.” She let out a small laugh and the tension visibly left her shoulders. “After that awful coffee you made me yesterday, I decided to get creative with that first.” A shrug lifted her shoulders. “Didn’t hurt to ask my friend, you know?”

      A grin split Miguel’s face and he relaxed, too. “Okay. I’ll take responsibility for that.”

      A light rap on the door made them both jump, as if they had been guilty of doing something other than talking.

      “We’ve got patients out here,” Carlos said through the door.

      “Oh, dear.” Vicky pulled the door open and nearly collided with the assistant. “Sorry, Carlos. We had to get something straightened out.”

      “Yeah. And thanks for the coffee,” he said. “Everybody loves it.”

      “That’s great.”

      “Think you could do something about doughnuts next?” The young man grinned and raced off to collect the next patient.

      Vicky laughed. “He’s a great kid, isn’t he?” she asked Miguel as they left the lounge.

      “He is. I hope he stays.”

      “Why wouldn’t he stay?”

      “He’s got bigger dreams than this clinic. At this point he thinks he wants to be a doctor. He’s got a long road ahead, if he really pursues it.” Miguel sighed, having already walked the path that Carlos wanted to take.

      “You did it, why couldn’t Carlos?” she asked. “Seriously. There’s the state-funded lottery program he could apply for. As long as he graduated from high school, it’s guaranteed for college, right?”

      “Yes. I just hope he doesn’t get … distracted.” The way his brother had, which had led to his demise.

      “Well, guess we need to get back to the patients for now, and work on Carlos’s future later, right?”

      “Yes.” He was pleased that they had solved the issue so quickly and so well and were right back to their professional roles. Contacting a coffee service for a donation wasn’t something that would have occurred to him. Maybe someone who came from a different background could be beneficial to the clinic. Time would tell.

      “Why don’t you try the coffee?” she asked, and poured him a cup which he accepted, his fingers brushing over hers.

      “I’m afraid my taste buds might keel over from exposure to real flavor,” he said, but took a sip anyway. He groaned in reluctant delight. “Be sure to thank your friend for me. This is fabulous.”

      Vicky flushed with pleasure at his reaction. No man in her life had ever been as satisfied with something as simple as a cup of coffee. “I will.” She dashed off into a patient room.

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