Carol Ericson - A Doctor-Nurse Encounter

She inhaled his comforting scent, not expensive cologne, but pure, potent masculinity. The smell made her feel safe and protected…and incredibly aroused.

She wanted to go home with him. She’d wanted to know what it felt like for this man to take control of her body the way he’d taken control of her mind and actions for the past five hours. She’d done things that would have been unthinkable for her only hours ago. Would Nick have the same effect on her in bed?

I’m sorry.” He stroked her hair. “You’re not safe here.”

But how safe would she be with him…in his home, in his bed?

For my sister, Janice.

Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds, and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Cast of Characters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Lacey Kirk—This nurse runs a doctor’s office with smooth efficiency, but her world is turned upside down when that doctor is murdered. Now she must depend on the secretive Dr. Marino for protection even as she risks her heart.

Dr. Nick Marino—He keeps secrets to shield his family from danger. His encounter with Lacey, a feisty nurse who demands answers, strips away his protective layers. Will Lacey still want the man she discovers beneath?

Dr. Joseph Buonfoglio—The grumpy doctor has secrets of his own, and his murder reveals them one by one, putting his employees in danger.

T.J. Paglietti—A small-time hood on the run from the mob. If the De Luca family discovers his identity before he can testify against one of their own, his life is over.

Frankie De Luca—He yearns for respect from his father and revenge for his brother—and he’s willing to kill to achieve his goals.

Petra Sorenson—She has a crush on her boss, Dr. Marino, and an insatiable need to prove she can find other men as substitutes. But her latest “substitute” has an ulterior motive.

Abby Buonfoglio—Dr. Buonfoglio’s gentle daughter has Down syndrome. Does she also hold the key to her father’s murder?

A person could die of asphyxiation down here. Lacey Kirk held her breath against the noxious wave of exhaust fumes that greeted her as she stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage.

The heels of her boots clipped on the cement, creating a lonely echo in the empty lot. Most of the doctors, including her boss, parked on the lower level. At this hour, the cars in the upper levels cleared out quickly, leaving gaping parking stalls in their wake.

She scooped her keys out of her purse, dropping them onto the garage floor, where they skidded underneath her Jetta. She uttered a curse.

“Hope that battery doesn’t pop out of the remote again,” she commented to no one in particular.

She crouched down and pinched her small desk key between her fingers, dragging the key chain toward her. Damn. She forgot to lock her desk after she pulled out the appointment book to check Dr. B’s appointments for tomorrow.

She stood up, sawing her bottom lip with her teeth. Normally, she wouldn’t worry about it, but she’d left the front door of the office unlocked for the deli delivery guy. She’d ordered Dr. B a sandwich before leaving for the night. Someone had to take care of the man.

Sighing, she dropped the keys back in her purse and trudged back toward the elevator. At least this would give her a chance to make sure Dr. B got his food.

As she rushed off the elevator, she almost collided with a man carrying an armful of file folders while fiddling with his BlackBerry and holding a cell phone. A few files slipped off the top of the stack and fell to the polished floor.

“Watch where you’re going.” Dr. Nick Marino’s black brows collided over his aquiline nose, and two spots of color stained his broad cheekbones before he stooped to pick up the files.

“You’re the one juggling electronic devices. Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” She dug a fist in her hip and tapped the toe of her pointed boot as the doctor straightened up, clutching the folders in his hand.

He dropped his BlackBerry into the pocket of his white coat, which flapped open, revealing his tailored shirt molded to his chest. Pec implants? His full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. Did men get collagen treatments?

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” He patted his pocket. “Multitasking.”

She rolled her eyes and pivoted toward the corner.

“Lacey, right? You work for Dr. Joseph Buonfoglio.”

“Yeah, Lacey.” She glanced over her shoulder. He knew her name? She didn’t think she was worthy of Dr. Perfect’s notice.

“I’ve seen you over at San Francisco General. You’re in the hospice/palliative nursing program, aren’t you?”

She spun around. She’d seen him at SF General, too. Pretty hard to miss a six-foot-two Adonis with groupies trailing him around the hospital. “That’s right. I’m in the hospice program. What does an internationally acclaimed cosmetic surgeon, darling of the rich and famous medical-convention rock star know about a hospice?”

He raised an eyebrow just as she stumbled around the corner.

She covered her face with her hands. Smart move, Lacey. The hunky Dr. Marino may be arrogant, but he also had connections. She giggled. Even getting kicked out of the hospice program was worth the look on his face. Well, almost.

Stepping up to the office door, she grabbed the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. She jiggled it. Had Dr. B locked the door after the food arrived? That didn’t seem likely.

She slipped her key into the lock and pushed open the door. Rustling noises echoed in the office, and the door that separated the rooms in the back from the reception area stood open. Dr. B must be eating his sandwich.

She sniffed the air. Cappicola didn’t have that heavy, metallic smell. It reminded her of the smell in the hospital…the hospital emergency room. Her heart banged against her rib cage as she crept toward the gaping door.

Placing a hand against the wall, she inched forward. She peered into Dr. B’s office and clutched the doorjamb to steady the spinning room.

Dr. B lay crumpled on the floor in front of his desk, a pool of blood soaking into the carpet under his head. The scream that barreled up from her lungs snagged in her throat, and she choked.

A large figure with a black ski mask and black gloves stepped into the hallway from the supply room. His eyes glittered through the holes in the mask, and Lacey stumbled back, banging her elbow against the wall.

The shooting pain released the tightness in her chest and she screamed as she scrambled toward the reception area and the door she’d left open. She felt the man’s body heat behind her before he yanked her hair, pulling her backward. He twisted her hair, jerking her head against his body, his garlic-scented breath bathing her cheek.