Cindy's Doctor Charming

“I don’t believe in it.”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked.

“No.”

In the NICU he’d seen worried parents who almost literally willed a tiny scrap of humanity born too soon, a being that they’d only just met face to face, to live. Was that love? He didn’t know. It hadn’t existed in his life. There’d been buckets of money that his father spent copious amounts of time making. His mother got tired of trying to get her husband’s attention and turned to her “projects.”

Nathan had tried his hand at love. He’d married a woman he liked and respected. But there was no doubt in his mind that if she hadn’t died in a car accident, their trial separation would have turned into an amicable divorce. He missed her, as his best friend. Nothing deeper than that existed in his world. He had no frame of reference for love.

Enough with the self-examination, he thought. He was a doctor, trained to act swiftly and decisively in an emergency. Hesitation could cost lives. And as Cindy had pointed out, his self-confidence needed immediate resuscitation.

He stood, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We’re wasting a perfectly good waltz.”

He’d expected some rebellion in the ranks, but apparently he had surprise on his side. She didn’t pull away but followed almost meekly as he led her through the maze of tables littered with half-eaten cheesecake and hastily abandoned cloth napkins.

On the dance floor he slid his arm around her waist and nestled her against him. She wasn’t as tall as he’d thought. It was probably that big attitude of hers generating the illusion. He was used to willowy women, but he could rest his chin on the top of Cindy’s head and somehow the fit felt just right. Despite her tongue-in-cheek comments about prosthetics and pronounced limps, she was light on her feet and had no problem following his lead. It felt as if they’d been dancing together for years.

Nathan gave brief thought to making conversation, then decided if he kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t put his foot in it. The sweet fragrance of her skin filled his head, more intoxicating than any alcohol he’d ever tasted. Thoughts of her in his arms somewhere private, with the sexy, strapless dress on the floor around her feet was temptation with a capital T. He was already planning the strategy to make that happen because it had been hard enough to get her in his arms for a dance.

The music ended and he was about to make his pitch when she backed away. The almost stricken expression on her face puzzled him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I have to go.”

“It’s not late,” he protested.

“It is for me.”

“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Your car turns into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Something like that.” She did an about-face, then slipped away through the crush of bodies still on the dance floor.

“Wait.” He knew she heard, because she lifted her hand in a wave as she kept going.

The crowd was thinner than when he’d first arrived tonight, but he had trouble maintaining a visual of her. She kept disappearing because almost everyone was taller. Outside the ballroom in the wide, carpeted hall people milled around. Nathan looked left, then right and couldn’t see her.

Instinct had him hurrying toward the bank of escalators leading to the ground level. When he reached the bottom, the crush of bodies parted and there she was, one foot bare and holding a high-heeled pump in her hand. The heel dangled at a dangerous angle. Literally a lucky break for him.

“Looks like you could use some help.”

She looked up, her expression rueful. “Not unless you can surgically reattach this.”

“I could carry you,” he suggested.

She made a great show of assessing him from the chest up. “You probably could. And that would be very gallant. But I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Despite the spunky words, she put her hand on his arm for balance as she removed the other shoe.

“So you’re determined to go?”

“Even more now.” The look she turned on him was wry. “I have no shoes.”

“Not a problem for me.”

“That makes one of us,” she said.

“Okay. I’ll let you go quietly if you give me your phone number.”

She blinked up at him, and for a split second the idea seemed to tempt her. Then she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“You don’t want me to call you?”

“Give the man a gold star.” Regret flickered in her eyes although she probably didn’t know it was there. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the interest, but women like me don’t date men like you.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Okay, how about this? My parents aren’t in the south of France or even north Las Vegas for that matter. It was the truth when I told you there’s no money in my family.”

“I believe you. That’s not why—”

“Look Dr. Can’t-take-no-for-an-answer. I don’t want you to call me. You’re a jerk at work. You yell at the help. You have a terrible reputation and no one likes you, including me. And everyone thinks you’re inflexible.”

He laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“If it’s not already clear, I’d like to see you again.”

Something flashed in her eyes when she said “Yeah, well, we all want things we can’t have.”

Before he could stop her, she turned and vanished in the crowd, ending his lucky streak. The most interesting woman he’d ever met had just shut him down.

At least he knew her name. It was a place to start.

Chapter Two

Tired and cranky the morning after her big night, Cindy and her “clean cart” rode the elevator to Mercy Medical Center’s second floor. If she’d known her raffle ticket to the ball included a sleepless night because of Dr. Charming, spending the evening at home in her slippers and sweats would have won out over borrowed finery and broken heels. She still couldn’t believe that Nathan Steele, the legendary NICU doc, had asked for her phone number. If he’d known she worked in housekeeping at the hospital, the fairy tale would certainly have ended differently.

The elevator arrived at her stop and the doors whispered open. She pushed the cart, holding a mop, trash receptacle and trigger bottles filled with antiseptic spray, down the hall. After rounding the corner, she came to a screeching halt. Nathan was standing right outside the neonatal intensive care unit.

He was looking at his phone, probably a BlackBerry or whatever was the latest expensive communication technology crammed into a square case barely visible to the naked eye. She wouldn’t know. Her cell phone was old, her calling plan the cheapest available on the market, only for emergencies. Which running into Dr. Steele definitely was, but nothing an old, cheap cell phone could handle.

The good news was that he hadn’t seen her yet. She could turn around and hide someplace until he was gone, but there was work to do. She was already gowned in the white, paper coverall with the snaps marching up the front that the unit required. Except for the disposable blue booties over her sneakers, she looked like a bunny. If only this uniform included a bag to put over her head, he wouldn’t know her because her ID badge was hidden beneath the protective clothing.

Then she got a grip and realized he overlooked her on a daily basis. There was no reason to believe that had changed because the night before he’d flirted with her outrageously and asked a woman he didn’t recognize for her number. The dancing had been really nice, too.

With head held high, she walked past him and stopped at the double-door entrance to the NICU. The cart wasn’t allowed inside. With all the sensitive equipment, electrical cords and highly skilled personnel hurrying between the isolettes, there wasn’t room to spare for the clunky cart. Housekeeping paraphernalia was necessary but not even in the same league with the pricey, sensitive and technical tools that saved the babies.

Cindy picked up one of the trigger bottles and was just about to approach the automatic opening door when she felt someone behind her. The hair at her nape prickled and her skin flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the hot suit. She could be wrong about the awareness, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t. The same thing had happened once before. Specifically, last night.