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With a Little T.L.C.

Год написания книги
2018
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Liz wouldn’t be surprised if she’d just come face to face with the Marchetti motivation. But had Sam heard about how badly he’d used one of the other nurses? Liz wondered if she should warn her friend that he was the love ’em and leave ’em type. She couldn’t blame Joe for wanting to get to know Sam better. Although signing up for the cuddlers program seemed a little extreme. Because pretty much all he had to do was stand there to make an impression on a woman.

Correction, Liz told herself, any woman but her.

Was it possible that she was wrong about him? Joining the cuddlers seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go through to meet a woman.

She smiled at Sam. “It seems your pitch made a profound impression on Mr. Marchetti. He’s decided to be a cuddler. I’m orienting him to the nursery.”

“Ah, that explains what you’re doing here on your day off,” the other woman said. “I refuse to waste my breath reminding you what the word delegate means. Or explaining the downside of employee burnout. I just came to get some money out of my purse for lunch.”

Joe looked at his watch. “Is it that time already?”

Sam laughed. “I don’t need a clock. My growling stomach say it’s time to take a trip to the cafeteria.”

“Now that you mention it, I’m hungry too,” he said.

Liz had to give him credit. He’d just given himself the perfect playboy lead-in to join Sam for lunch and cast his line, work his magic, lay the groundwork for his conquest. Sam was a big girl. She could handle him. They would actually make a very attractive couple. Part of her rebelled at that thought. The other part was glad that he would show his true colors and be out of there before anyone learned to depend on him.

“Good,” Liz said. “Sam can give you an impromptu tour of the hospital on the way.”

“On the way where?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“To the cafeteria.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me?” One dark eyebrow rose questioningly.

Sam cleared her throat. “If she’s not, she should be.”

Joe looked at her a moment, then chuckled. “I’m going to assume you didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“I didn’t.” She looked sheepish. “What I meant was that this woman spends too much time here—six days a week on average. Last I heard she wasn’t supposed to come in today.”

“A workaholic dedicated to showing one volunteer the ropes,” Joe said, shaking his head. “This is all my fault.”

“No. There’s always something,” Liz said. “So I’ll leave you two to the rest of the tour—” She gasped when Joe took her elbow and headed her toward the door.

He looked over his shoulder and said to a grinning Sam, “Nice to meet you. Don’t let me keep you from your lunch. I’m sure I can find out where you hide the cafeteria another time. After ruining her day off, I owe this lady some R and R. Bye.”

Thirty minutes after leaving the Encino hospital Joe parked his convertible in a beach lot overlooking the Pacific Ocean. There were picnic tables scattered in the sand nearby. He half turned to look at Liz. Her hair curled charmingly around her small face. A becoming pink colored her cheeks. Sunglasses hid the keen intelligence in her eyes. But what really drew his attention was her smile. A rare phenomenon he was beginning to realize. And that was a shame. Because it was very attractive and incredibly appealing.

He was only slightly miffed that driving with the top down had produced the occurrence and not his own witty repartee. No matter. He planned to bring it out more frequently. Everyone needed a challenge. Even a confirmed bachelor like himself.

“This is the spot I was telling you about,” he said.

She sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I drove to the beach.”

He grabbed the brown bag with the sandwiches he’d bought at a stand on Pacific Coast Highway and got out of the car. Rounding it, he opened the passenger door and took the cardboard container of drinks that Liz had been holding on her lap.

“Let’s sit on one of those benches over there,” he said pointing. “Great scenery.”

She nodded and slid out. They walked to the picnic table and she clambered over the bench, settling herself to face the ocean. Joe never missed a chance at that view. This time it was a perfect excuse to sit beside her, his arm brushing her shoulder. She shivered slightly, then shifted a bit to the side.

“You cold?” he asked.

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Not after Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride in that car with the top down. And I meant that in a good way.”

“Which part? The wild ride? Or Mr. Toad?” he asked wryly.

“Let me just say, nice car. Really, really nice,” she finished, glancing over her shoulder to look at it with an exaggerated sigh.

Joe loved his sporty red convertible. But he couldn’t tell whether she really meant what she’d said, or if there was subtle criticism in her voice.

“I like it,” he said cautiously.

She peeked over her shoulder again. “No back seat. That’s good news and bad.”

“How’s that?” he asked. He liked the fact that Liz kept him on his toes, always wondering what she would say. What zinger would she lob his way? And how would he defend himself?

“Well, the good news is that car is a babe magnet.”

“If one were looking to attract ‘babes.”’

She studied him. “Isn’t that what playboys do?”

There was the zinger. And he suspected his best defense was offhandedness. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well if you didn’t write the whole thing, I’d bet you contributed at least a chapter to the how-to book for bachelors on the make.”

On the make? Defending himself for something he’d done was one thing. But she had him all wrong. For some reason he didn’t have a clue about, she’d pegged him in a negative light from the day he’d walked into her office. It was time to find out what had tied her stethoscope in a knot.

“And why would you think that?” he asked.

“You fit the profile.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re good-looking, smart, and you have a great job.”

“Thank you.”

“Observation, not compliment.” She sipped her soda. “Those attributes are a triple whammy. Women must swarm all over you.”

“You make me sound like the bait for a roach motel.”

She laughed. “Just remember the insect image is yours, not mine. But seriously, you would have to be stupid not to play the field.”

If she was bitchy or nasty, he could get mad and fight down and dirty. But her manner was conversational. Light and breezy. This was one for the books—Nurse Ratchett with overtones of Tinkerbell. Her good nature was infectious even while she was tossing verbal barbs his way. She’d lobbed him so many backhanded compliments, he felt like a tennis player. How could he defend himself against that?

He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose you could describe me as relationship challenged,” he said. “I prefer that to stupid.”
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