Bride for a Single Dad. Laura Iding
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at her closet, desperately searching for something to wear.
When she realized what she was doing, anticipating Alec’s phone call, she turned away from the dressy clothes and grabbed the pair of comfortable jeans paired with a casual short-sleeved T-shirt she usually wore on her days off.
She probably wouldn’t see Alec anyway, unless the hospital administrator called her back soon. Over an hour had passed and she hadn’t gotten a response yet. Likely, she wasn’t going to be able to help him after all.
Disappointed, she hoped Alec wouldn’t be upset with her. Although why she cared if he was upset or not was beyond her. It wasn’t as if she was going to see him on a regular basis or anything. Would she? Her heart gave an expectant leap until she squashed the sensation with common sense. No, of course not. Their paths wouldn’t likely cross again.
The tingling sensation returned to her fingers. She stopped in her tracks and stared accusingly at her right hand. The numbness and tingling came and went without warning. Her initial doctor’s appointment had been almost six weeks ago. The neurology specialist, Dr. Juran, had ordered a broad-spectrum lab panel, and thankfully the results had come back as normal. When her symptoms hadn’t returned right away, she’d put off scheduling her MRI scan. Until Dr. Juran had called, urging her to get it done.
She’d had the MRI yesterday. She’d called to find out the results and had been told they wouldn’t be available until Monday.
Dr. Juran had been noncommittal when she’d asked him about multiple sclerosis. Her mother had suffered from the auto-immune disorder. In the beginning, Angela Davis hadn’t been slowed down much from her disease. Yet over time she had grown weaker and weaker until finally she hadn’t been able to take care of herself. Since Jillian’s father had died of a heart attack when she’d been in her early twenties, Jillian had been left to be the sole provider of care for her mother, until Angela had finally passed away as well.
Jillian caught her lower lip between her teeth. Dr. Juran had explained MS wasn’t hereditary, so she needed to stop making herself crazy by thinking she had the same disease.
With a choppy sigh she flexed her fingers until the sensation passed. Like the last time, the symptoms didn’t bother her for long. Just enough to make her aware something was wrong.
She tore her gaze from her hand. Obsessing over what she might have wasn’t how she wanted to spend the weekend. She was lucky to have two whole days off. She needed to enjoy them.
And she would. Glancing at her watch, she tried to think of the best way to plan her day, considering all the various errands she had to run.
Maybe she should wait to leave until Alec had called.
Wait a minute, since when had she planned her life around a man?
Not since she’d been sixteen and infatuated with Steven Wade, the quarterback of the football team who hadn’t known the bookworm-school-valedictorian had been alive.
With a determined motion, Jillian swept her purse off the counter, intent on heading outside to her car. The pager at her waist vibrated and, despite herself, she grasped the unit eagerly. The number flashing across the display wasn’t the hospital’s.
As she didn’t have a personal life to speak of, the number had to be Alec’s.
Her heart leaped in her chest. She turned and walked into the kitchen, dropping her purse back on the table. Taking a steadying breath, she picked up her phone and dialed the number.
“Alec Monroe,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hi, Alec. This is Jillian, returning your call.” She cursed the butterflies mating in her stomach. What in the world was wrong with her?
“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” His deep voice held a note of warmth, unless she was totally imagining it. “Would you have time to go out for lunch?”
“Lunch?” She stared at the wall calendar and the blank space labeled Saturday, knowing full well she didn’t have other plans. She wanted nothing more than to go, but Alec wouldn’t be happy to hear she couldn’t help him. “I’m sorry, Alec, but I haven’t heard back from anyone in hospital administration yet.”
“That’s all right,” he assured her. “I have something else I want to talk to you about.”
“You do?” Her interest piqued, she quickly gave her consent. “Sure, I’d love to have lunch. Ah, where would you like to meet?”
He hesitated, and she sensed he wanted to argue about meeting at the restaurant, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. “Do you like Italian? We could meet at Giovani’s, say, around eleven-thirty?”
“Giovani’s is perfect. See you then, Alec.”
Jillian hung up the phone, already shaking her head at her own foolishness. She was acting like a goof.
This wasn’t a date. This really wasn’t a date.
Ha! Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d figure out a way to believe it.
Alec wanted to ask her about something else. Like what? No doubt he had medical questions of some sort. A few of the men she’d dated in college had seemed to want to know all about various disease processes once they’d known she was a medical student.
She clutched her purse to her chest, feeling the same uncertainty she’d experienced back then, going out on her first date.
The guy had been nice enough, but their relationship hadn’t gone anywhere. In fact, none of the men she’d dated on and off during her college years had evoked deep feelings on her part.
Maybe because none of them had been anything like Alec. Alec was different. He put his life on the line for others, yet oozed masculinity and sensual awareness in a way she’d never experienced before.
She couldn’t deny that his magnetic attraction made her secretly thrilled to be seeing him again.
CHAPTER THREE
ALEC hated working weekends, not appreciating the way the job cut into his personal time with his daughter. He’d debated bringing Shelby along, but then Alaina had mentioned taking the kids to a water park and the excited glint in his daughter’s eye had convinced him it was better for her to go with his sister. Beth, Alaina’s daughter, was close to Shelby’s age and the two of them had become almost inseparable over the past eight months.
The knowledge should have made him feel less guilty about working the weekend, but didn’t.
He arrived at the restaurant early, having finished interviewing the neighbors around the area where the shooting had taken place sooner than he’d thought.
He stood in the shade of the building to wait for Jillian, seeking respite from the hot sun. The hours he’d spent gathering information hadn’t revealed much about why the two boys had begun to fight, but his John Doe number two did have a name.
Richard James Bordan. Known by his friends as Ricky.
The kid had celebrated his sixteenth birthday three weeks earlier. He’d played football and, according to his mother, had had dreams of qualifying for a college scholarship.
Ricky’s mother didn’t have any idea where he might have gotten the drugs. She claimed he’d been a good boy who hadn’t gotten into trouble with the law or skipped school as much as the other kids did. Football had been too important to him.
He could have pointed out that good boys didn’t usually carry guns and percocets but he hadn’t. Because deep down he believed her. Ricky probably was a good kid, who had made the stupid mistake of trying to settle an argument with a gun.
Where Ricky had gotten the gun and the drugs was a complete mystery. Although Ricky’s juvenile record did show he’d once run with a rough crowd.
He glanced up when a sedate blue Chevy