Her Christmas Wish. Cindi Myers

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Her Christmas Wish - Cindi  Myers


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do that.” The women said goodbye and Alina turned back to her paperwork.

      “This is looking good,” Marissa said. “He’s been talking about you to his coworkers. He’s crazy about you.”

      “He can’t get too crazy,” Alina said. “I’m only going to be here until January.”

      “A lot can happen in a few months. You might decide this is true love.”

      “Oh, please!” Alina protested, even as her heart pounded. “You told me Eric has never had a serious girlfriend and he’s the only one of his siblings who hasn’t been married. Does that sound like the kind of man who wants to settle down to you?”

      “Yes. He’s sown all his wild oats and is ready to fall in love. And I think you’re the woman he’s fallen in love with.”

      Alina’s heart stomped out a frenzied folk dance. “The man hardly knows me.”

      Marissa shrugged. “Some people are meant to be together.”

      So her grandmother had always said. And according to Baka Fania, the person Alina was meant to be with was a big, good-looking blond. Someone like Marty—who as far as Alina could tell was a sweet, shy, absolutely boring man who generated not a single spark in her. And none of the other blond men she’d dated over the years had sparked any feelings in her, either.

      So much for grandmother knowing best.

      

      ERIC KNEW he made a good impression in his dark jeans and leather jacket. Female heads turned as he passed through the corridors of Gunnison Valley Hospital Wednesday afternoon, and he resisted the urge to stop and flirt with the prettier nurses, aides and one attractive female surgeon. He had a mission to accomplish and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

      He found Alina in the hallway outside a patient’s room, marking something on the chart by the door. “Hey,” he said, and stopped beside her.

      Her pale complexion blushed prettily, reminding him of a fast-motion film of a rose blooming. “Hello,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

      “I came to see you. How are you doing?”

      “I’m fine.” She clicked her pen several times rapidly before shoving it into the pocket of her pale blue scrubs. “What can I do for you?”

      “A group of us are going snowmobiling this weekend up by Kebler Pass. I’m hoping you can go with us.”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I…I’ll have to check my schedule.”

      “I talked to Marissa, and she thought you might be free Saturday,” Eric said. “She’s coming with us. So is Marty and some other people, mostly from Crested Butte. But they’re great folks. You’ll like them.”

      Alina hesitated.

      “Have you been snowmobiling before?” he asked. “It’s a lot of fun.”

      “No, I haven’t.”

      “Then you should come. Who knows when you’ll have the chance again?”

      “All right,” she said. “I’d like that.”

      “Great. I’ll pick you up about eight Saturday morning.”

      “All right. I’ll give you my address.”

      “No problem. I already got it from Marissa.”

      She looked surprised, but said nothing. Eric would like to be a fly on the wall when she talked to Marissa about that. “I guess I’ll see you then,” she said.

      Clearly she expected him to leave, but he lingered, reluctant to break off their conversation. This was the longest they’d ever spent alone, and he wanted to make the most of it. He followed her to the supply closet and watched while she replenished the supplies on her cart. “What made you decide to become a respiratory therapist?” he asked.

      “I liked that it was a way to really help people,” she said. “Patients come to me, unable to breathe, and I can make a real difference for them.”

      “Why not a doctor or a nurse?”

      She shrugged. “That took money and training I didn’t have. This was more immediate. More specialized. A doctor has to know everything. I’m able to concentrate on doing this one thing well. And it’s very hands-on. Medicine isn’t always like that.”

      “You’re right, but medicine offers a lot of variety. I’m hoping to be a doctor one day. I’ve completed my undergraduate work—I’ll start medical school next fall.”

      “Really?”

      Again the look of surprise. Well, she wouldn’t be the first person to underestimate him. He enjoyed proving them wrong. “I’ve applied for some grants and scholarships,” he said. “It won’t be easy to pull everything together, but I’m determined.”

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