Carol Ericson - A Doctor-Nurse Encounter

“So do you.”

She sliced her finger on a paper edge. “What?”

“You’re back in here so soon after the murder to take care of everything. Where are Dr. Buonfoglio’s surgical nurses?”

“They were with him a long time.” She shoved the drawer back into the desk and stood up, sucking on her finger. “I spoke with them last night, and they’re shocked. They need a few days to recover before coming in here.” Especially Jill.

“Did you hurt your finger?” He stepped forward and held out his hand.

“It’s just a paper cut, Doc.”

“Let me see it, anyway.” He cupped his outstretched hand and gestured her forward.

Might as well humor the guy. He obviously had no problem taking charge of a situation, and recalling the way he flew through the door of the office last night to attack the intruder, she didn’t have a problem with it, either.

She held out her hand, and he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and peered at the slice on her finger that sported a tiny drop of blood. He had beautiful hands—surgeon’s hands—strong, capable, deft. She stopped. The surgeon’s hands last night delivered punishing blows, showing strength of another kind…brute strength.

“Dab some antiseptic on this and get a Band-Aid. The man last night didn’t steal all your Band-Aids, did he?”

She snatched her hand back. “I’m sure we have some in the examination room.”

“So what did he steal?”

She skirted past him and rounded the corner into the examination room. He followed.

“I’m sure he stole some drugs. I still have to compare my inventory against the mess he left behind and give a list to Detective Chu.” And the appointment book? She hadn’t found it among Dr. B’s clutter, either.

She grabbed a Band-Aid and spun around, meeting Nick’s dark eyes.

“Something else?” His brows rose.

“Last night you said the man was wearing a jacket big enough to conceal anything. Big enough to hide an eight-by-eleven notebook?”

“What kind of notebook?” Nick shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and leaned against the wall, as if to strike a casual pose. The gestures failed. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, indicating anything but casual.

What did she expect? He was minding his own business last night, heard her scream and jumped into a life-and-death struggle.

“An appointment book.” She squared her hands in front of her. “I can’t find my appointment book.”

His shoulders relaxed. “You still keep an appointment book? Don’t you have a database on your computer?”

“I keep both. Dr. B liked to see his appointments on paper, all collected in one book.”

“Just names and dates, that kind of thing?” He flicked a piece of lint off his spotless sleeve.

Why was Dr. Nick Marino suddenly developing an interest in Dr. Buonfoglio’s method of keeping appointments? Well, even if he cultivated pretense, she didn’t.

“Yeah, names and phone numbers penciled in on a calendar. Why are you so interested?”

His eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t I be? A doctor on my floor, another cosmetic surgeon, is murdered and I’m supposed to take it in stride? Shrug it off?”

She bit her lip. He had a point. She was supposed to be the caring hospice nurse and he the coldhearted, money-grubbing cosmetic surgeon.

“I’m sorry, Nick. You have every right to be concerned, and I never even thanked you for saving my life.”

He shrugged. “As a cosmetic surgeon, I don’t get to save a life every day. Do you need help with the inventory?”

“What about your patients? Don’t you need to get back to work?”

“I canceled all my appointments for the rest of the day.” He pointed to the bandage on his head. “I’m afraid this didn’t inspire much confidence in my patients this morning.”

She accepted his help, and after she grabbed the inventory list off her desk, they snapped on matching rubber gloves to sort through the mess in the supply room. She checked off each item and quantity on her list as Nick pieced together broken bottles and smashed containers.

When Nick swept up the last of the glass from the floor, Lacey sat back on her heels and frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“What?” He dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash bin they’d ordered from Facilities.

“There’s really not that much missing from this list.” She tapped the pen on the paper. “It just looked like he stole a lot because he trashed the place.”

“Maybe he grabbed the easy-to-steal sample packets. Do you keep an inventory of those? I don’t. Maybe you interrupted him before he could get down to business.”

“Why did he smash everything if he was looking for drugs to steal? Unless…” She stood up and lodged a shoulder against the doorjamb.

“Unless what?” Nick looked up sharply.

“Unless he just wanted it to look like he was after the drugs.”

He banged the lid on the trash can and leaned over it, not turning around to look at her. “What was he after, Nancy Drew?”

Why did he sound so angry with her? The fumes must’ve gone to his head. “I don’t know, but he thought he might find it in Dr. B’s desk.”

“Was anything missing other than the appointment book?” He turned slowly, still gripping the trash can behind him.

“Not that I could tell. Are you okay? Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for you to be crouching over for an hour cleaning up with that head injury.”

He plowed a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his bandage. “I’m starving. How about you? Do you want to join me for lunch?”

“Sure, but let me pay since you helped me out here…and for last night. I can’t face Antonio’s. Can we walk down the street a little to the Chinese place?”

“It’s a deal.” He peeled off the gloves and dropped them into the trash.

When Nick opened the office door for her, the cop on duty stepped to the side, still talking to Petra. Petra’s gaze darted between the two of them, a red tide washing across her face.

“I didn’t know you were in there, Dr. Marino. Since we don’t have any patients today, I figured I’d return some calls and phone in a few prescriptions. I’m just taking a break.”

“No problem.” He shrugged out of his lab coat. “Can you hang this up for me when you get back to the office? Lacey and I are grabbing some lunch.”

Hugging the coat to her chest, Petra raised her brows over a pair of inquisitive blue eyes that Lacey could feel burning into the back of her head until she turned the corner to the elevator. Nick generated a lot of interest and speculation among the women at the office and the hospital.

Well, let them speculate. The least she could do was to buy him lunch. He came to her aid last night and helped out again today. Who would’ve suspected Dr. Marino of having a chivalrous streak?

They trudged uphill on the damp sidewalk, and a slice of blue San Francisco Bay rewarded their efforts when they got to the top. Last night’s rain rinsed the sky clean, leaving a few puffy white clouds tumbling in the breeze.

The afternoon lunch rush had long since cleared out, and only a few tables of tourists remained in the restaurant when they got there.

Keeping that chivalry thing going, Nick pulled out her chair. It had been a while since a man pulled out her chair on a date. Who was she kidding? It had been a while since she’d been on a date. Not that she considered this a date.

“Do you like it spicy?”

He quirked a brow, looking ten kinds of suave, and warmth flooded her cheeks. Good thing this wasn’t a date.

“The food…I mean, do you like spicy food?”

“Yeah, I do.” He shook open the plastic menu. “I’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”