The Nurse's Pregnancy Miracle. Ann McIntosh
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Worse, she’d found herself paying him far more attention than was warranted.
She had to admit, though, that what she’d seen was surprising, considering her previous assessment of his character. What she’d thought of as smooth charm seemed instead to be simply politeness. He never crossed the line into familiarity, and even seemed to display, on occasion, a touch of shyness.
He was unfailingly courteous, had a sly sense of humor, and he spoke to everyone from the janitorial staff to the senior partners in exactly the same way. Professionally, everyone agreed he was an excellent diagnostician and a thorough, diligent doctor.
Anyone hearing the nurses talk would believe him to be a paragon of every virtue, and Nychelle was beginning to understand why. He knew all their names, and she’d even overheard him asking one of the nurse aides about her son, who’d been ill the week before.
Once you got past his amazing looks, David Warmington seemed to be just a thoroughly nice person—but she knew better than to trust her own assessment of a man’s character. She’d thought the same of Nick, and had been horribly wrong. She just wished she could get her hormones to remember how painful disappointment was, especially when it left you feeling used, so that they’d stop reacting to the man standing at her side.
“And now it’s just about time to open the door and let our patients in.” Dr. Hamatty beamed as he rubbed his hands together in what looked like anticipation. “Have a great, productive day, and on behalf of everyone involved in planning this I once more thank you for giving up your Saturday to help those in need.”
There was a short round of applause as Dr. H. stepped away from the microphone and the clinic committee chairperson stepped forward.
“Any latecomers who haven’t received their instruction packages, please report to the intake table. Everyone else—please go to your assigned cubicle.” She glanced at her watch. “We have fifteen minutes, folks.”
Her smile was slightly strained, and Nychelle felt a pang of sympathy. It was no wonder almost every free clinic had a different coordinator. The stress of getting it all arranged was immense.
Clapping her hands together, like a schoolteacher trying to rally her students, and injecting a strident enthusiasm into her voice, the chairperson concluded, “Let’s do this!”
As the crowd dispersed, Nychelle hesitated. She should acknowledge Dr. Warmington in some way, but was reluctant. Ridiculous as it might be, just thinking of meeting his intent gaze made goose bumps fire down her spine and had her nipples tightening to tingling peaks.
“This is quite some set-up. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
His words were obviously directed at her, since she was the only one left standing in the immediate vicinity.
Silently admonishing herself to stay cool, Nychelle made the half turn necessary to face him. Thankfully he was taking in the room, his gaze on the dispensary across the gymnasium.
Before she could answer, he continued, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pharmacy at a free clinic.”
Okay, this was a safe topic to talk about, and since she wasn’t skewered by that intense gaze Nychelle relaxed.
“Dr. Hamatty had to work really hard to get a special license for it. Apparently he realized, after the first few clinics he arranged, that it didn’t help the patients if they were given prescriptions they couldn’t afford to fill. All the medications are donated and, with a few exceptions, they’re limited to mostly over-the-counter drugs, so eventually he was allowed to have it.”
Nychelle couldn’t help chuckling softly, before continuing, “Dr. H. has a lot of clout in the medical community, and beyond. It was inconceivable they’d be able to hold out against him forever.”
As though drawn by the sound of her laughter, David looked at her, and immediately she was snared. Really, was it fair for a man to have eyes like that? So gorgeous they made a girl’s heart stop for a second and then had it galloping like an out-of-control horse?
No, Nychelle decided. No, it wasn’t in the slightest bit fair.
David’s lips quirked at the corners and amusement lit his eyes again. “Somehow I’m not surprised. Dr. H. is a powerhouse. I doubt anyone says no to him. Not more than once anyway.” He waved his hand in an abbreviated arc, gesturing to the room at large. “The number of us here is testimony to that.”
Had he wanted to say no? Wasn’t being charitable a part of his nature?
Unaccountably disappointed at the thought, she asked, “You weren’t at the last one? I would have thought you’d be roped in from the start.”
David briefly lifted one shoulder in what she’d come to realize was a characteristic shrug. “I had already committed to going to Los Angeles to finish a course on genetic counseling for oncology patients. Dr. H. knew about it when he hired me, so knew I wouldn’t be at the free clinic. I assured him I’d happily participate going forward.”
He looked down at the information package in his hand. “I should try to find my spot.” Glancing up at the alphabetically arranged banners hanging from the ceiling, he continued, “I’m in D section, cubicle five.”
“I’m just two cubicles down from you, so I can show you where it is.”
“Oh, good.”
He gave her a full, beaming smile, and the breath seized in her throat.
“So I can run to you if I have any questions?”
“Um...” Nychelle swallowed to make sure her voice wasn’t breathy and ridiculous before she attempted to answer. “Somehow I doubt you’ll need my help. I, on the other hand, am glad to know I’m in close proximity to the polyglot doctor.”
Wanting to lighten her emotional response to his smile, she narrowed her eyes, giving him a mock glare.
“You do speak several languages, right? You weren’t just pulling my leg?”
With a touch on her arm, which even through her lab coat caused a burst of heat over her skin, David guided her around to face their section and began to walk. Nychelle fell in beside him, keeping her attention on where she was going rather than looking up at the stunning profile of the man beside her.
“Spanish and Portuguese, French, Italian and some German—enough to get by anyway. A little Arabic and a smattering of Hindi. I can understand a bit of Mandarin, but just the basics. I’ve been told my Cantonese is a disgrace, but once the person I’m talking to stops laughing I can carry on a conversation...”
That last bit was said in such a disgruntled tone Nychelle couldn’t help giggling. “Okay, okay—I believe you.”
“Oh.” David paused abruptly, just before they got to their assigned areas. “I actually sought you out to let you know that Mrs. Cardozo and her baby are in no danger, and she’s been cleared by Dr. Tza to fly back home next week.”
Nychelle was about to ask for more details when the coordinator’s voice boomed through the auditorium. “Ten minutes, people. Ten minutes.”
“Oops, better get going.” Nychelle smiled up at David, was rewarded by an answering grin. Then she asked, “Did Dr. Tza’s office call with the update?”
“No, I called to follow up. See you.”
He strode toward his assigned examination area and warmth flooded Nychelle’s chest. Checking on a patient he’d only seen once and likely wouldn’t see again was beyond his purview, but knowing he’d done so made her unreasonably happy.
Get a grip on yourself. You’re getting as bad as the other nurses!
But the admonishment couldn’t wipe away the smile on her lips.
* * *
“I’m going to suggest going back to your old detergent. The location of the rash seems