Teresa Southwick - Cindy's Doctor Charming

“I’m on a diet.”

“Why?” Nathan twisted the top off his water bottle and took a drink.

“By definition diet implies trying to drop a few pounds.” Her tone was conversational, but mistrust lurked in her eyes.

“Again I ask—why?” He wagged a warning finger when she opened her mouth to answer. “Don’t give me the snarky, sarcastic response that I know is on the tip of your tongue. You’re not overweight.”

“Why else would I go on a diet?” She leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. The classic stubborn, you’re-not-getting-anything-out-of-me pose.

“All well and good for someone who needs to shape up, but you don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I saw you in that dress last night.”

The sexy, sensuous image would be imprinted on his mind forever. And he’d held her in his arms. She had curves in all the right places and not one of those places needed to slim down. The memory of her body pressed against his sent a flood of testosterone surging through him. And it wasn’t the first time he’d reacted to her that way.

“Why are you really eating this?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Good question. Humor me.”

“Would you believe I have irritable bowel syndrome and this is a bland diet?”

“No.”

She was irritable, but that wasn’t a medical diagnosis. It had something to do with him personally. Just a feeling, but he was pretty sure this snappish attitude had a lot to do with him not recognizing her, especially after coming down on her for something she hadn’t done. And since his apology hadn’t produced any discernible softening in her, that cranked up his curiosity.

“Okay.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “What if I’m still full from last night?”

“Doubtful. You didn’t finish the rubber chicken or even touch the prefab cheesecake.” He would know. He’d noticed that, along with everything else about her. She was quick-witted, smart and sexy. A triple threat.

She sipped from the straw in her iced tea, then asked, “Are you going to let this go any time soon?”

“That’s not my current plan, no.”

She sighed. “If you must know, I’m always on a very tight budget the week before payday. Something you probably have no frame of reference for.”

“Budgets? Or payday?”

“Either. Both.”

“I get the concept, but you’re right. It’s not something I had to deal with.”

“Had?”

“I didn’t have a childhood, but not because money was a problem.”

He’d had his hands full coping with family issues. And thinking about that could put multiple black marks on his day. Cindy, however, could brighten up an entire room. He’d found that out last night. And she was much more interesting than memories of the clinically dysfunctional Steele family.

“So,” he said, rolling the empty plastic from his sandwich into a ball. “The south of France with Mumsy isn’t in the budget?”

Her mouth twitched. She wanted to laugh but was holding back. “About that—”

“No need to explain.”

“In my small way, I was getting even with you for yelling at me.”

“I get that. What’s your excuse for being crabby now?” he asked. “Lack of sleep? Staying out too late last night?”

“You got me. Hobnobbing with the rich and famous wore me out. I stayed up way past my bedtime.”

And speaking of beds, an image of her in his with twisted sheets tightened a knot of need inside him that had started fewer than twenty-four hours ago when he’d seen her walk like sex in motion across a crowded room. Talking with her, discovering her sharp mind and keen sense of humor had only intensified the feeling. Then she’d really piqued his curiosity by abruptly walking out after cutting short their dance.

“It seemed like you were having fun. Why did you leave the party?” he asked.

“It was time to go.” Something in her eyes said that wasn’t the whole truth. “Now I’ve got a question for you—why are you stalking me?”

“That’s harsh,” he teased. “Take last night—”

“You mean when you didn’t have a clue who I was?”

“No offense,” he said, “But last night you weren’t wearing the NICU jumpsuit.”

“It’s a legitimate question, Doctor—”

“Nathan, remember?”

The look on her face said she remembered it all and wasn’t happy that she did. “My point is that a physician rubbing elbows with the peons here at Mercy Medical Center just isn’t deliberately done. So the stalking remark is not out of line.”

“It is if I just want to get to know you. And I do. We work in the same place and it’s inevitable that our paths would cross. Which is the reason I’d like your phone number.”

“I don’t really get the connection.” She stood and picked up her tray. Over her shoulder as she was walking away, she said, “And you should just let it go, Doctor .”

Nathan knew she was right. He should let it go.

He honestly didn’t understand why he couldn’t. The average woman would be happy to go out with him. Clearly Cindy wasn’t average, which could explain part of her appeal. The other part was curiosity. She wouldn’t even give him a chance, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t about him chastising her.

Cindy Elliott was quite the mystery and he wasn’t finished trying to solve her. He’d see her stubborn and raise her a healthy dose of persistence.

Cindy had clocked in from lunch after her unexpected encounter with Nathan and was now back to work. The afternoon stop in the NICU was next on her work sheet. Other than Dr. Charming going out of his way to talk to her in the cafeteria, it promised to be an ordinary afternoon. Then everything changed. And it all happened so fast.

One minute Cindy was running a long-handled dusting tool over the linoleum floor, the next Nathan was there with a tiny baby. He was calmly issuing orders like a general in the thick of battle.

The common sense move was to get out of the way even if directions to do just that in the event of a medical crisis hadn’t been drilled into her. Cindy had been employed at Mercy Medical Center for nearly two years and had seen her share of medical situations but never one involving Nathan Steele. She knew what he did, had seen his medical practice partner in action, but she had never actually witnessed him saving a little life. And she had a bad feeling that her life was about to change. She couldn’t help thinking that darn raffle ticket had somehow altered fate to put her in his orbit.

From her protected position against the wall she could hear the team talking and knew the baby boy was a twenty-five-weeker born just minutes ago by C-section. That made him about four months premature. He was already intubated, and they were using a bag to force air into his lungs. The person bagging the baby was her friend, Harlow Marcelli, who worked in the Respiratory Therapy department.

Cindy couldn’t really see what the staff was doing to the baby, but Nathan was taller than everyone and the strain and intensity on his face were clearly visible. When bodies parted, she noticed that he was using two fingers on the tiny chest, compressions for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

After listening with the stethoscope, he said, “Let’s get him on a ventilator. IV line stat and electrodes for EKG. I need to surf him.”

She made a mental note to ask what that meant.

Meanwhile, the troops moved to follow his orders, and moments later there were tubes and machines in place. Tracings on the monitors were blue, green and pink—each to distinguish a different function to be watched.

“I need blood gases,” Nathan said.