NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet

A couple exited the elevator, avoiding eye contact as they passed by.

“Honey, I have never hated your mother, and I don’t hate you,” Lewis said, impressing Scarlet with his calm. “I let my anger and disappointment at having to pick you up at the police station get the better of me yesterday, and I am deeply sorry for what I said.”

Jessie stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her mid-section, looking down at the ground.

“Now that I know where you’re spending your afternoons, I can stop worrying,” Lewis said quietly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Jessie offered, still not looking up.

It was a start. But with the Memorial Day weekend of doom fast approaching, was it enough to get Lewis and Jessie talking about what they needed to talk about? Probably not. Which meant Scarlet had to figure out a way to intercede without Jessie finding out.

Later that night, after spending more time thinking about Lewis and his daughter than sleeping, Scarlet settled on what she’d do. Of course it’d taken until well after midnight to finally make up her mind—the reason she sat in the far corner of the mostly deserted hospital cafeteria hours before her lunch break, waiting for Lewis.

He walked in and went directly to the coffee dispensers, giving Scarlet time to play voyeur, watching from afar, admiring his long legs, short hair, and good looks. The man made basic green scrubs look like upscale attire. Clean and neatly pressed. And dare she add, pleasingly filled out.

No wonder she’d heard his name bandied about by so many of her single co-workers.

She skimmed up his legs, to his narrow waist and wide chest, to his smiling face, to his eyes staring straight at her.

Busted.

She smiled back and waved.

He paid the cashier and headed toward her. “You like what you see?” he asked with the cocky smile of a man who knew he looked good, pulling out the chair across from her at the small, two-person table along the wall.

“Actually,” she took a sip of coffee, playing it cool. “Just pondering the age old question of boxers or briefs.”

He leaned in close.

She added straight white teeth, clean shaven, and a hint of expensive cologne to his growing list of unsettlingly pleasing attributes.

“Use your imagination,” he whispered.

Oh he did not want her to go there. Too late. She closed her eyes and pretended to imagine his naked form with various undergarments. Okay. So she didn’t totally pretend. When she opened her eyes to find him studying her, she flashed her sweetest smile and said, “Commando it is.”

He laughed out loud.

“Suffice it to say, I no longer owe you a slap across the face.” She blew out a breath and fanned herself. “We are now even.” Come to find out he had a beautiful smile, so much like Jessie’s.

“You make me forget I’m the father of an impressionable teenage girl.”

“You know being a parent does not sentence you to a life of celibacy. Why don’t you pull up your date book and call one of your five star babes to take the edge off. It’ll calm you down. I’m happy to take Jess to dinner and a movie.” She smiled back. “Your treat, of course.”

He rested his elbows on the table and leaned in close. “Why is it we never met before Jessie came into my life?”

Oh that was easy. “Probably because I don’t dress to attract male attention, my boobs don’t enter a room before I do, and I’ve never gone to O’Malley’s after work intent on finding a sexy doctor to go home with.” And she had a brain and self-respect and stayed away from men who didn’t put any effort into getting to know a woman before making a play to get her into bed.

His smile grew even bigger. “You think I’m sexy?”

And full of himself. “Based on your reputation, I think it’s safe to say certain women find you sexy. Or else they simply put up with you in a desperate attempt to snag themselves a doctor husband.” She shrugged. “It’s a discussion for another day.” She looked at her watch. “Unless you’d like to continue rather than talk about Jessie, who is the reason I asked you to meet me here. Your choice. I’ve got rounds with the neonatologist in fifteen minutes.”

That knocked the cocky grin from his lips.

Good.

“What can you tell me about Jessie’s mom?” she asked, hoping to get him to figure out Jessie’s issues on his own, so she could avoid having to come right out and tell him.

He took a sip of coffee before answering. “There’s not much to tell. She was a barista at a coffee shop around the corner from my medical school. We dated a few times, and by dated,” he looked at her pointedly without apology or regret, “I really mean got together for sex. When she put pressure on me to spend more time with her, we fought. She became a distraction so I broke it off,” he said matter-of-factly. “I needed to focus on my studies. So I found another coffee shop and she, according to a ranting message left on my answering machine, found a man who appreciated her—likely one more easily manipulated by her histrionics. After that I never saw, spoke with, or to be honest, thought about her again until I received a call from her attorney nine months ago informing me she’d died and I had a twelve-year-old daughter.”