To Save This Child. Darlene Graham
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her breakfast, I offered to bring some food in for the staff instead. So they wouldn’t be disappointed,” she trailed off, “and all.”
“How very considerate!” he spoke with the barest hint of sarcasm.
They both knew why she was here. Kendal imagined his thriving practice was overrun with eager drug reps like herself.
“So. What did you bring us?” He raised the lid off one of the boxes. Kendal could see the tray of expensive pastries, covered with cling wrap. “Not too shabby,” he said as he reached to lift the wrap. “Got enough here for a hungry doc?”
“Afraid not.” Kendal gave his hand a light slap.
He laughed. Then he quirked a smug grin at her, digging around under the cling wrap anyway, and she gave him a wry little smile in return.
“I’d be all too delighted if you’d eat with us,” she said, “since you’re the real reason I’m here.”
“You’re interested in little old me?” He took a bite of a roll.
She smiled at his flirting. “No. Only in your business. Allow me to introduce my latest miracle drug.” She swept an arm toward the easel.
He chewed as he squinted at the giant poster promoting Paroveen. “Always the latest miracle drug,” he muttered.
“But mine really is miraculous. I’m only asking you to give it a try.” She handed him a brochure, then reached around him and slid the box of pastries off the counter. “I’d better get these set out before the staff gets in here.” She often found it prudent to give the docs a moment to read her materials uninterrupted.
But to her disappointment, he didn’t even look at the brochure. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and watched her. “I’d rather hear what you have to say about it.”
She was aware of his eyes following her as she quickly arranged the food on the table. “Okay. I’d love to.”
She spouted a few startling scientific statistics about Paroveen while she pulled out paper plates, forks and napkins stamped with the Merrill Jackson logo from her rolling cart.
When she was finished her spiel, he stuffed the brochure in the pocket of his leather jacket, sauntered over and proceeded to pile food onto a plate. “I’m afraid I’ve got to get back down to surgery, so—” he popped in a grape, then reached for cubed ham “—maybe we can get together some other time to finish discussing your wonder drug.”
Kendal wasn’t sure, but her instincts warned that The Wolf was interested in more than the drug. Maybe it was the way his teeth flashed in that cocky smile right before he bit into a cube of ham.
But she couldn’t pass up the chance to push her product. “Anytime.” She’d worry about his motives after she got his business. For now, she knew she’d only have his ear for as long as it took for him to gobble down that last piece of ham. She had to talk and talk fast.
“You understand that I don’t like switching drugs,” he said.
“I understand, but our studies indicate that every doctor that upgrades to Paroveen gets an eighty percent reduction in edema in half the time. Plus our physician education and support services are outstanding,” she finished in a rush.
“Samples?”
“All you want,” Kendal bargained.
“You’ll personally provide technical support?” He wiped his hands on his napkin and gave her that eager smile again, as if she might make a nice little dessert right now.
“Absolutely. I’ll be available to you twenty-four, seven.” Shoot! Why’d she say it like that?
He smirked. “Day and night? My, my. You are the dedicated one.”
Kendal was about to say something to show that she was totally professional, something that might put this handsome dog in his place, when the door swung open.
“Hello!” As if the smell of food had summoned them, Kathy Martinez and two other nurses, a tall one wearing surgical scrubs and a paper cap and a smaller girl, came waltzing up to the table.
“Hi, doc!” The nurse in scrubs winked at Jason Bridges. “Didn’t expect to see you up here, what with no patients out front.”
“I’m headed down to surgery in a sec.”
“We’ve got a bilateral resection of inflamed parotids,” the nurse in scrubs explained to the shorter one.
“Oh, I forgot about that,” the smaller office nurse said.
Kendal had heard about the complex microsurgery that could take up to three hours. It was exactly the kind of procedure where Paroveen would be a benefit.
“We’re doing the deed right after I have another one of these little muffins. Man. These are good, Miss…tell me your name again?” He popped in a muffin, chewed and frowned at Kendal.
Was he being intentionally obtuse? After all, Kendal was wearing a big purple name tag. She pressed her fingers to it and smiled. “Collins. Kendal Collins.”
“Kendal,” he said, and swallowed.
“Help yourselves,” Kendal told the nurses as she swept an arm over the food trays.
“Kendal—” Kathy started the introductions as the women filled their plates “—this is Mary Smith and Ruth Nichols. Mary’s one of the office nurses. And Ruth is Dr. Bridges’s scrub nurse.”
Mary, nibbling a strawberry, reminded Kendal of an anxious little mouse. She was short, wearing a faded scrub jacket stamped in a teddy bear pattern, had cropped nondescript brown hair and rimless glasses crammed tightly against the bridge of her button nose.
The one named Ruth was exactly the opposite. Even in the baggy surgical scrubs, her tall body exhibited the svelte lines of a supermodel. Even the ugly paper surgical cap did not detract from her beauty. The dusty blue color seemed to merely emphasize the flawlessness of her ivory skin.
“My extra set of hands.” Bridges winked at the attractive young woman. “And my eyes. And my ears. And some days even my sense of smell.”
“Just call me the doctor’s scrub nose.” Ruth giggled and actually tapped a fingertip to Jason Bridges’s handsome nose.
Everyone but Kendal laughed. Apparently this was some sort of inside joke.
“I hope I brought enough food.” Kendal turned to the table, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the couple’s flirting. “How many more people are we expecting?”
“Four more from the office.” Kathy smiled. “This food looks fabulous, by the way.”
“Too bad you just started that nasty old diet.” Dr. Bridges teased his chubby head nurse.
Kathy whapped him on the shoulder and popped a glazed doughnut hole into her mouth.
When Kathy swallowed the treat, Kendal noticed the older lady leaning over toward Dr. Bridges, mumbling something.
From across the table the last of it sounded like, “…about the Spanish.”
Bridges shot Kendal a look bright with interest. In that split second when their gazes locked, Kendal began to understand how The Wolf might have gotten his nickname.
He stepped around the table to her. “Kathy tells me you speak Spanish?”
“Yes.”
“Fluently?”
“Yes.” Kendal frowned.
“Mexican dialects?”
“Yes.” Kendal was not at all sure she liked the way he was looking at her.
“Ever been there?”
“Where?”
“Mexico.