Single Dad, Nurse Bride

“Monty Python,” she mumbled.

He grinned. “Good choice. I see we’re members of the same cult.”

She looked at him with surprise. He winked, and a quick flutter burst across her chest. Positive the simple gesture hadn’t meant anything to him, she wished she could resist his charm half as easily.

Nurse Sheila came by and checked both of their arms. “Are these IVs OK for you two?”

Rikki nodded and smiled.

Dr. Hendricks glanced at one of his arms. “’Tis but a flesh wound,” he said with a poor excuse for a British accent.

Rikki’s quiet laugh drew his attention. She saw that spark in his gaze again, and it jolted her. Thick dark lashes that any woman would die for lined the green of his eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that he wore small wire-framed glasses, he’d be flawless. But wasn’t that part of what she liked so much about him, the fact that he wasn’t quite perfect?

The next time he made her feel nervous at work, she’d just imagine him sitting on the floor, legs crossed, playing dolls with two little pixies. Her mouth twitched at the corners.

Rikki relaxed. And if he enjoyed the humor of Monty Python, he just might understand her quirky personality. Something about that possibility made her break into a smile.

He caught her. They grinned at each other, and her heart broke into another tap dance. The quick rush made her mildly giddy, and she liked it. And there was that look again.

“I believe,” he said, removing his glasses and looking steadily into her eyes, “I owe you an apology.”

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER a day off on Friday when Rikki rested, rehydrated herself, and spent quality time with Brenden, she arrived at work on Saturday morning invigorated and ready for duty. It was a hell of a way to spend her birthday, but she didn’t have any other plans. The call light in 408 was already on at the nurses’ station—the fractured pelvis lady.

Rikki flopped her clipboard on the counter and headed for the room. Her hunch was right and she discovered the usual suspect on the call light. But the woman wore a worried expression, and pointed towards her roommate, the fractured femur in bed B.

She rushed to the restless and coughing patient.

“What’s up, Mrs. Turner?”

The woman squirmed and pulled at her hospital gown. Her left leg, suspended by traction and a splint, had been healing beautifully, considering the hardware sticking out of it. She hadn’t complained of pain the day before yesterday when Rikki had last taken care of her.

No one had mentioned any complications with her condition in report, yet here she was, clearly in distress. Rikki needed to figure out what to do.

“Are you all right?”

The woman nodded her head and fussed with the sheets on her bed, trying to adjust her position but unable to move much with the traction holding her in place.

As it was the beginning of the shift, Rikki took vital signs. Mrs. Turner had an elevated temp and her pulse rate was close to one hundred. She breathed as though she was anxious, short and shallow. There was no obvious sign of infection at the surgical site.

Something caught Rikki’s attention when the woman tugged on the neck of her hospital gown. A sprinkling of small purplish spots dotted the surface of her chest. Rikki peeked inside the loose short sleeve of the gown, where more spots could be seen under her arm and on the side of her breast. It wasn’t a rash. A mental red flag went up.

“May I look in your eyes, Mrs. Turner?”

The agitated woman nodded.

Rikki gently pulled down the lower lid and discovered a few more of the same sort of spots inside the eye membrane. Another red flag.

“I need to call your doctor, but in the meantime I’m giving you some oxygen.” She pulled the two-pronged plastic tubing out of the bedside bag and connected it to the wall oxygen, then fitted it inside the patient’s nose. “I’ll be right back.”

She rushed past the roommate, thanking her on her way out while dredging up well-learned data from nursing school.

Fat embolism was a complication that sometimes occurred with severe multiple fractures, especially of long bones. Mrs. Turner had a fractured femur. Fat globules could be released from the fracture into the bloodstream and act the same as blood clots, which could migrate to the lungs, heart, or brain. If not dealt with immediately, they could prove lethal.

Rikki grabbed the patient’s chart, remembering Dr. Hendricks was her doctor. Flipping quickly through the hospital phone book, she found his private line and dialed. She’d try calling him before the on-call doctor.

“Dr. Hendricks,” he answered gruffly on the first ring.

“Doctor?” She was surprised he was in his office on a Saturday instead of in surgery. “Mrs. Turner in 408B has developed petechiae across her chest and inside her eyes. She’s restless and her temperature and respirations are elevated. I’m worried it might be fat embolism. Can you take a look at her or shall I call your on-call resident?”

“I’ll be right there.” He hung up before Rikki could explain why she hadn’t thought to call the doctor on duty—because she’d become flustered and her mind had gone blank when she’d seen whose patient Mrs. Turner was. Rikki rushed back to the patient’s room to check the oxygen saturation, which to her relief was in the normal range.

Dr. Hendricks appeared out of nowhere, winded and ready for business, as though he’d taken the stairs from his first-floor office rather than wait for the notoriously slow elevator. His sandy dark blond hair looked disheveled, and his white doctor’s coat wasn’t buttoned.

“Mrs. Turner.” He slowed his pace and had a calm smile on his face, though his breathlessness gave his sprint away. “How are you feeling today?”

“OK, I guess.”

As he casually questioned his patient, he looked under her lids and peered down the neck of her gown, confirming what Rikki had told him. “Are you having any chest pain or trouble breathing?”

Mrs. Turner shook her head. “I’m just antsy. You know, anxious, because I’ve been stuck in this bed too long.”

“I’d go a little stir-crazy, too, if I were you.” He nodded at Rikki while he listened to Mrs. Turner’s lungs through his stethoscope. “Take a deep breath,” he told the patient. “Does it hurt when you breathe?”

“No, I just feel like I need to cough.”

“Let’s get a blood gas, stat,” he said to Rikki. “How is her urine output?”

“Um…” Rikki hadn’t thought to check her intake and output, and Mrs. Turner hadn’t asked to use a fracture pan yet that morning.

He didn’t wait for her response. “Get some IV fluids going—normal saline, 125 cc an hour. Get a urine sample to check for fat globules. I’ll order a stat CT scan of the brain and lungs, and we’ll start heparin therapy after the blood gas has been done. Page me as soon as the results are back.”

Rikki flew out of the room and paged the respiratory therapist for the blood gas test, then rushed to the supply closet for what she’d need to start the intravenous line. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dr. Hendricks scribbling on a green doctor’s order sheet, and blanched when he glanced up and caught her. When he smiled and nodded, she flushed and scuttled back to the patient’s room, trying not to feel flustered under his smoldering gaze.

In the midst of setting up the IV bag and tubing, Dr. Hendricks appeared in the doorway again.

“Here’s my beeper number.” He handed her a small piece of paper.

She snatched it with an unsteady hand. He didn’t let go of his end of the paper, forcing her to tug and look up at his teasing eyes. He gave her a casual smile and said, “Good catch. This could have gotten ugly. Oh, and I’ve ordered IV steroids.”

“You’ll be fine.” He called out to Mrs. Turner. “Rikki here will keep tabs on you until I get back.”

He nodded again, and smiled in a naturally sexy way that made her toes curl, then left.

She stood quietly, shaken. Why did she let him have such power over her? Damn, denial was useless—she had a crazy crush on the man. There was no getting around it.

Thankfully, she had something to distract her, something much more pressing to attend to than Dr. Hendricks’s make-your-knees-knock smile. She had a sick patient to care for.

Dane had finished his weekend rounds and discharged several patients. Mrs. Turner’s computerized tomography revealed early evidence of fat embolism in her lungs, and she needed to be transferred to ICU and intubated until her condition came under control. If Rikki hadn’t been on the ball, the patient’s prognosis could have been much worse.

He put his hands in his pockets, deep in thought, and walked to his car in the doctors’ parking lot. He glanced up to find a captivating vision before him. Rikki’s hips swayed with a mesmerizing rhythm as she walked quickly to her car. She’d unwound her bun and, as if a pendulum, her ponytail kept counter-time to her strut in a most alluring way. He rushed and caught up with her.

“What’s your hurry? Hot date?”

She spun around, looking surprised. “Oh.”

He could get used to that wide-eyed liquid brown gaze of hers.

She’d changed into baggy camouflage pants and a tight T-shirt, revealing a modest chest. Her backpack matched the pants. Not exactly the sexiest outfit he’d ever seen, but on her it worked. The fashion statement was further evidence that he couldn’t deny: he was a good ten years her senior. Could they possibly have anything in common? At least she wasn’t wearing combat boots, just brown high-top canvas sport shoes!

“Um,” she said, as though still trying to figure out what to say. “No. I have some errands to run.”

“I see.” He forced her to slow down, so they could walk together and talk. “Where are you parked? I’ll walk with you.”

Painful silence made Dane more uncomfortable than he’d been in ages. Had he forgotten how to make conversation with a woman? He definitely needed to get out more. Well, he could always keep the subject on business. “Again, I want to thank you for being on the ball with Mrs. Turner.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, but it’s my job.”

“And you do it well.”

It was never a good idea to socialize with people at work, especially with the kind of thoughts Rikki Johansen put into his mind. But his daughters had a sleepover party that night, and he was free to have some adult time. Only problem was, he didn’t have anyone to spend it with. And seeing the ortho nurse had given him an idea. Ah, hell, why not just dive right in?

He cleared his throat. “If you’re not busy tonight, how about having dinner with me?”

The color drained from Rikki’s face. She practically stumbled before coming to an abrupt halt, though she covered it well by searching the asphalt for the invisible stray rock that must have tripped her. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“I believe that’s what I said.”

More stunned silence.

“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked.

“Well, no. But…” She bit her lower lip.

“I know, it might be considered improper of me to ask you out, but it’s not like I’m your boss or anything. We may work for the same hospital, but I don’t sign your checks, and it’s just dinner, you know?”

“I’m parked over here.” She pointed to an older and well-worn car. “Um…”

“Listen, if I’ve put you on the spot, forget I said anything, OK? No hard feelings.”

“No. It’s not that.” She glanced briskly his way, as though torn about what to say, and dug into her backpack for her car keys.

An odd feeling of discomfort prompted him to do more explaining. “I enjoyed watching the movie with you the other night, and I thought we’d started to get to know each other at the donor center. You seem like a nice woman and, bottom line, I don’t feel like eating alone. That’s all I’m saying.”

He didn’t want to pressure her into feeling obligated to go out with him. Though usually any woman he’d asked out jumped at the chance. Damn, had he gotten that rusty in the last few months?

Rikki still hadn’t located her keys, and dug into several different pockets of the backpack in a frustrated manner. So how could he get out of this awkward mess he’d made and still save face?

“I’m not on call, but I gave you my beeper number earlier today. If you change your mind, beep me. I’ll keep it turned on, just for you.” Let her think whatever she wanted about the double meaning of “turned on.” She did flip his switch—that, he couldn’t deny.

But he had his pride. He’d dump the dinner invitation in her lap, and if she didn’t follow through, he’d know she wasn’t the least bit interested and forget about it. But, damn, he could have sworn there was something, some kind of chemistry between them. He’d definitely felt it. And he really did want to explore where it all might lead.

Maybe he’d been wrong?

He reached into his shirt pocket for his business card and handed it to her. “Don’t lose that number.” He attempted a dashing smile while feeling strangely insecure. “My cell phone number is on it, in case I don’t answer my beeper.”

She read the card and recited his number. “OK.” She scratched her nose. “I’ll see how things go.”

Not the most encouraging answer in the world, but he’d settle for it.

No fancy automatic car opener for Rikki, she shoved the key into the lock, swung open a creaky and dented door, and slid inside behind the steering wheel. He noticed a child’s booster seat in the back. Did she have a kid?

Right this minute he didn’t care if she had three kids, he just wanted to take her out to dinner and have a good old-fashioned date with a woman. This woman. Male pride made him take the last word. “I know the perfect place for a great meal.”

Before she could answer, he spun around, stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled slowly toward his new car in the doctors’ parking section. He casually whistled, and hesitated long enough to make sure her clunker of a car started.

By six o’clock Rikki had grown restless. Nothing remotely interesting was scheduled on TV. She’d seen all of her DVDs a million times, and wasn’t inclined to rent anything new. Her best friend had a rescheduled blind date she couldn’t get out of, and had promised to celebrate her birthday with her on Sunday night.

Brenden sat quietly on the floor, playing with his favorite toy robot in his Superman Halloween cape.

She flounced down on her couch and put her fuzzy slippers up on the coffee table. Another Saturday night at home—but this time, it was her birthday.

She couldn’t get Dane out of her mind. Wasn’t he totally out of her reach? Had he really said he’d liked talking to her? Well, they’d had a good time watching the Monty Python movie, and they’d both laughed at all the same parts. She imagined his chiseled face. What would his close-cropped hair feel like to run her fingers through? Ha! As if she’d ever have the chance.

His beeper number repeated in her head. How often did mature gorgeous surgeons invite her out to dinner? Never!

Meghan, the teenager next door, had offered to watch Brenden as a birthday present—why not let her?

Oh, what the hell. She searched for his business card, and a sudden rush of jitters made her drop it twice. She stood tall and swallowed, picked up the phone as a stream of adrenaline trickled through her chest, and dialed.

When he answered, she realized she’d been holding her breath. “Dr. Hendricks?”

“Call me Dane. What took you so long?”

How had he known it would be her? She picked at her hair, flustered. She heard children’s voices and lots of racket in the background, wherever he was.

“Daddy? Daddy?”

“Hold on a second, Rikki. OK, girls, behave tonight. Emma, don’t be a tattle-tale about everything Meg does, OK? And Meg, don’t give Emma anything to tattle-tale about.”

She heard him kiss his daughters, and another woman’s voice spoke up. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of them,” she said. “We’re going to play dress-up and bake cookies and watch movies.”

What sounded like a herd of little girls clapped and squealed, “Yay!”

Rikki smiled. She’d never been to a sleepover party. Come to think of it, she’d never played dress-up either.

More kisses. More goodbyes. A door closed.

“You there?” Dane asked.

She snapped out of her memories. “Yeah.”

“When shall I pick you up?”

Ever cautious as a single woman, she answered without thinking. “I’ll meet you.”

After he’d told her the location of the restaurant, a place she’d never be able to afford on her own, her nerves doubled.

Now it was her turn to play dress-up.

Dane sat at the bar at his favorite steak house in Beverly Hills, nursing a beer. He’d pulled some strings to get a last-minute reservation. It was an unusually warm evening for early November, thanks to the Santa Ana winds blustering through L.A. He almost left his sport coat in the car, but remembered that the restaurant required men to wear jackets.

He tapped his foot and checked his watch again. He’d always been a stickler about being on time, and it was a quarter after the hour. But with that old clunker of hers, Rikki may have broken down on the way. He should have insisted on picking her up, but something in her tone of voice had made him back off and let her call the shots. He dug into his pocket for his cell phone and scrolled through previous incoming calls to find her number. Just about to dial, he glanced up.

Rikki stood in the restaurant entry in a whirlwind of color. From her gauzy layered skirt to the two-toned baby blue and brown vest top, she lit up the room. Copper-colored sandals that laced around her calves reminded him of a film he’d once seen on the Roman Empire. He smiled.

She quickly brushed her hair to fight off the windblown look and glanced his way. He pushed off from his barstool and walked closer. He adjusted his glasses to take a closer look at the pleasing sight.

There were no less than six bead bracelets on both of her wrists, alternating blues with browns, and a necklace of several strands to match just about anything in the world. His daughters loved to make their own jewelry with plastic beads, just like hers. And right now he could almost see her in one of Meg’s tiaras.

She blinked in recognition and her gaze skittered from his to around the lobby and back. In the upscale steakhouse, where women flaunted their highly insured gems, she stood out as “different.” Well, to hell with everybody. He liked how she looked.

Rikki’s quirky outfit tickled him. She was the most genuinely unique person he’d met in ages. A smile of admiration stretched across his face as he approached. Something about the intentional hint of brown lace from her bra peeking above her scooped neckline pleased him even more.

“Hi,” she said, with an insecure gaze upwards. “I had trouble finding parking.”

The expensive valet-only parking must have had her walking half a mile from wherever she’d left her car. Why hadn’t he thought about that? He should have put his foot down when she’d insisted she’d meet him here. No wonder she was late.

“No problem.” He reached for her hand and tugged her toward the hostess. “We’re ready for our reservation.” A surprisingly pleasant surge of energy started where he held her small, warm hand in his. He could get used to that.

She’d gone to trouble for him, and he liked the results. He glanced appreciatively into her delicately made-up eyes, more lovely than ever. Soft butterscotch waves tumbled over her shoulders, and she nervously used her free hand to flip her hair behind her shoulder. She smelled of citrus-infused lotion, and her tantalizing mouth glistened with lipstick, as if daring him to kiss her. Maybe he would…later.

Struck with a sudden urge to skip dinner and get right down to dessert, he swallowed hard.

“Your table is ready.”

“You ready?” He broke off his stare.

Rikki nodded. He gave her a gentle nudge at the small of her back to move her along.

Her dainty hips swayed as they snaked through the crowded and noisy restaurant to their table. He liked the swishing sound the skirt made and the natural herbal scent of her hair.

Content with the thought of sharing dinner with his intriguing date, he couldn’t help but think this could be the start of something. His mouth went dry and a quick response kept him from tripping on a chair.

When had been the last time he’d dared to think that?

Several patrons cast curious glances at Rikki. Maybe they thought she was some eccentric starlet, or a pop singer. Whatever their reasons for staring, she didn’t let it faze her. Instead, she held her head high and squared her shoulders until the hostess seated them. He liked her attitude.

Rikki had never felt more self-conscious in her life. She’d only seen restaurants like this in movies. Perfectly coiffed women and tailored men filled the tables. She even thought she saw an actor from TV in one of the booths at the back.

No gawking.

Her multiple foster-parents had frequently brought in children for the extra income, not purely out of the goodness of their hearts, and a place like this would never be in their budget. She and a few friends had once splurged and treated themselves to a swanky restaurant when they’d graduated from nursing school, but she honestly didn’t feel the food had been worth the price. She had her few favorite eateries, and they weren’t anywhere near this side of town.

Dane looked relaxed and in his element while he perused the menu. “I recommend everything except the seafood. Stick with steak tonight.”

“But I’m a vegetarian.”

He bore the look of a surgeon who had just amputated the wrong leg. He shook his head. “No wonder you’re so scra—er, tiny. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bristling over his comment, she stared him down. “You never gave me a chance.” She closed her menu and put it on the table. “You didn’t give me a choice, or a say in where I’d like to go. You didn’t ask what I’d like to eat. You just said, ‘This is where we’re going,’ and ‘Be there.’”

Dane stiffened. He clutched the wine list and frowned, confused.

She saw the evening turning around the wrong bend, and that was something she couldn’t take. After all, it was her birthday. Didn’t she deserve a nice evening out?

She wanted things to be better than this, even though Dane had some explaining to do about the look he’d given her when he’d first seen her. Surprise? Horror? She wasn’t sure which. Well, get used to it, buddy, because this is me. I know who I am, how I dress, and what I eat. If he wanted to get to know the real her, she wasn’t about to pretend to be someone else.

Truth was, she wanted a chance to get to know Dane Hendricks too—a man who would most likely never have given her a second look if they’d passed on the street. For some odd reason she’d caught his attention at work, and now she’d like to see how long she could hold it.

“But that’s OK.” She smiled brightly, changing tack. “They’ve got lots of great side dishes and salads.” She picked up her menu again. “I’ll be fine.”

He studied her with a confused gaze a few seconds longer. “By any chance, do you drink wine? I was going to order a pinot…”

“Chardonnay?” She offered an apologetic smile. “I only like white wine. Sorry. But I can have tea, and you—”

“No.” He raised his palm. “Chardonnay it is. And for the record, I like petite women.”

Petite sounded a heck of a lot better than scrawny. Yeah, she knew what he’d meant the first time. But she’d give him a second chance.

Dane quickly made up for things. He became her hero when he withstood the snooty look the wine steward gave him when he ordered the bottle of white wine against the expert’s advice for a nice pinot noir. No two-buck house wine for him, which was Rikki’s usual choice when she was paying. He ordered the finest Chardonnay on the wine list. And he also suggested to the waiter that they should add a few more vegetarian entrées to their menu when they ordered their meal.