The Boss and Nurse Albright

A look passed between them that said so much more than “truce”. For the first time since she’d been working in the new job, Claire felt she belonged. And Jason had shown the first signs of crawling out of his cave.

Jason watched Claire and Gina drive off. The wrenching pain in his chest made it hard to breathe. He’d paid a price for holding that child. Memories of cuddling Hanna had been dredged up from their carefully fortified cave: the softness of her hair, the perfection of her complexion.

He couldn’t go on like this.

He clenched his jaw and watched the taillights turn the corner. He wanted to hit something. To take a sledgehammer and bash to smithereens the tomb that kept his daughter and wife from him.

That woman and her child had gotten under his skin, had forced him to feel things—things he never wanted to experience again. Feelings he couldn’t bear.

The damp night air enveloped him as he bit his lip and paced against the torment.

Chapter Three

TUESDAY morning, Claire passed the mock-up version of the patient herbal survey to Phil Hanson as he sat in his office. She’d stayed up past midnight putting it together. Aside from his medical school and specialty certificates framed on the walls, there were several surfing trophies and photographs of him with his board. His laid back attitude often carried over into his clothes, and today he wore a Hawaiian patterned tie with a pale blue denim shirt.

“Looks good,” he said. His thick wavy hair appeared to only have been finger combed, yet he still managed to pull off a charming air. She wondered why he wasn’t married, then remembered René had commented he was a happy and confirmed bachelor.

“What looks good?” Jason’s deep voice came from over her shoulder.

It almost made her jump. She turned and found she was the closest she’d ever been to him, but the doorframe kept her from stepping back. His face was freshly shaven and he smelled of sandalwood and citrus, which tickled her senses. Though his hair was neatly trimmed, the longer top part had fallen across his forehead. She fought the urge to sweep it aside. Up close, his gray eyes had tiny flecks of blue in them, and they looked kinder than she’d thought. Or maybe that was because she’d seen him in a new light last night. After he’d read to Gina, her daughter had talked about him the entire ride home, until she’d fallen asleep.

“Well?” Jason said.

“Oh. The herbal survey. Here’s a copy for your approval,” she said, handing the pages to him.

He avoided her gaze, studying the paper instead. In contrast to Phil, his stiff collared white shirt hugged his tanned neck, and he’d made a perfect knot with his drab tie. Someone needed to brighten this guy’s wardrobe up, but it wouldn’t be her.

After her disastrous marriage, she wanted nothing to do with men. In her time of greatest need, she’d been kicked to the curb by her husband. Hadn’t the wedding vows said “In sickness and in health”?

“Looks good to me, too.” Jason handed the survey back and continued down the hall and up the stairs. His dark gray, perfectly tailored silk suit molded well to his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Phil cleared his throat. Claire snapped back to the task at hand, and retrieved the survey from the doctor. He had a funny look in his eyes, as if he’d caught Claire ogling Dr. Rogers, which may have been the case but she hadn’t meant to be so obvious. Her cheeks heated up and she made a quick getaway.

In a room of men, most women would notice Phil Hanson first, with his striking good looks and surfer boy features. But Dr. Rogers had a subtle solid handsomeness that caused her eyes to linger. After swearing off the entire gender, she wondered why she was suddenly comparing the men she worked with.

Claire shook her head, and strode to the receptionist’s desk for the list of patient addresses.

“We’ll need eight thousand surveys to go out,” Gaby, the receptionist, said.

“Wow, this is a bigger practice than I thought.” Drs. Munroe and Becker had already approved the survey. Now she had Phil and Jason’s blessing, too, so it was just a matter of mailing it.