A Hopeful Heart and A Home, a Heart, A Husband. Lois Richer
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hairs peeked out from his throat. He looked every inch a playboy with his rumpled black hair and twinkling azure eyes.
“You!” he gasped, clearly shocked. “What are you doing here?”
“As I told you before, Dr. Stewart, this is where I am employed. Supposedly you are, also, although I must have missed seeing you around.” Melanie assumed a haughty look before demanding, “Is there anything else, Doctor?”
“I am not a doctor,” he told her loudly. “And yes, there certainly is. May I speak with you privately?”
“Not Dr. Stewart?” Melanie stretched her lips thinly, faking outrage. “You lied deliberately, to try to cheat me out of that money, didn’t you?” she accused, hands on her hips.
When a telltale flush of red covered his jutting cheekbones, Melanie felt deep satisfaction. Self-righteous and smug, she delivered the final blow.
“I don’t think I want to be part of your charade any longer, whoever you are.”
Turning, Melanie flounced into her office in high dudgeon, feeling a virtuous superiority. He had asked for it.
“We’re not quite finished, are we?” His deep tones rumbled over her left shoulder.
“I’ve said everything I’m going to,” she announced smugly and flopped into her desk chair.
“Good. Then you can hear me out.”
Chapter Two
“Ms. Stewart, it seems there has been more than one mix-up today.”
He had never before seen a woman so furious and yet so determined not to say a word, Mitch decided in amusement. He fully expected her to blow a gasket.
“What do you want?” Her low voice barely masked her frustration.
“Look, I came to say I’m sorry.” She looked slightly mollified at his calm, contrite tone, but the glitter of suspicion returned to her eyes when Bridget walked into her office with Sam Sinclair shuffling alongside her. Mitch ignored them.
“And I came to make sure you keep those patients out of the hospital. They could get hurt.” She had that look again.
“Ms. Stewart—Melanie—I’m very sorry I accused you wrongly earlier today. Please forgive me.” Deliberately, Mitch made his tones sweet as honey.
“Fine. You’re forgiven.” Her voice was frosty, unwelcoming, with a tinge of bitterness. “Now, please, will you get out of my office. Bridget, would you do the honors?”
Leaning back in her chair, Melanie glared at him. He watched her huge green eyes flicker with something like suspicion as she studied him. Mitch decided the faint pink of her uniform was certainly her color.
Her almost round face, with its dainty nose tipped at that disdainful angle, dared him to try her patience. Her mouth straightened into a thin, disapproving line.
Deliberately Mitch tamped his growing interest and firmed his resolve. He wasn’t here looking for a date. He was here to make restitution. Melanie Stewart was going to understand his concerns one way or another.
“Now, if we can discuss this rationally.”
“Oh, buzz off—” She stopped short of saying whatever else was on her mind, and Mitch almost laughed at the childish phrase.
Melanie was fiery and determined and willful, but she had a streak of decency in her that forbade the use of cuss words. It was unusual in this day and age and something he admired, Mitch admitted. But he wouldn’t tell her that just yet.
Stretching her long legs, Melanie deliberately ignored him. To Mitch, that was the final straw. He opened the door and ordered, “Look, just look.
“They’re wandering all over the place,” he told her, pointing toward one sprightly old gentleman dressed in an ancient green suit, which bore a striking resemblance to the apparel of a leprechaun. “This place is out of control.”
He watched as she spluttered angrily. But as residents watched, Melanie Stewart refused to acknowledge his tenuous grip on her small hand. Smiling and friendly, she greeted each one, losing the smile immediately when they passed.
“The hospital cannot afford to have someone injured or worse, simply because you allow these people to wander around at large. It’s my job to ensure we don’t get embroiled in any frivolous law suits.” He pulled her along behind him through the hallways, past the interested spectators gathered outside their rooms.
“You’re a lawyer?” The way she said his profession, Mitch figured it rated pretty low on her scale.
It also brought on another tirade.
“Of all the silly, idiotic, lying tricks…”
Mitch let her rant until they came to a tiny woman sitting quietly on a bench in the hall. Bending his lips to her ear, Mitch teased her.
“If you scare these folks into thinking you’re having a conniption fit, they are going to get worked up. Just relax, will you?” He breathed in the soft, light fragrance she wore, enjoying its teasing allure.
“Conniption fit? I haven’t heard that phrase for years!” She frowned at him. “Anyway, Mrs. Rivers never says anything.”
As they drew nearer, the little woman murmured something. Melanie stared in amazement. In two years, Mrs. Rivers had never been heard to utter more than one word. Suddenly, at the sight of this lawyer, she was speaking?
“I beg your pardon,” Melanie said, hoping the old lady would repeat herself.
The woman’s bright gray eyes were riveted on them, and she spoke louder.
“It’s so romantic,” she breathed. “Just like a knight in shining armor. Oh, Melanie, at last you have found your true love.”
Mitch bowed as low as possible, a huge grin crinkling his smug face. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Turning, he marched Melanie back through the office to her inner sanctum, then gently pressed her stiff, angry body onto the leather couch. As he moved to stand, Mitch gently drew his lips across her soft, angry ones.
“Maybe she’s right, Melanie.” He grinned cheekily before tossing his jacket across his arm and moving to the door. He slid his dark eyes over her once more before murmuring, “We’ll see.” The door closed softly on his laughing face.
Melanie hissed with frustration through tightly pursed lips. “No, Mr. Know-It-All Stewart, we definitely will not see.”
Her hand swiped across her mouth as she tried without success to erase the feel of his seeking mouth. She clenched her fist as the pool of awareness in her middle refused to go away.
“Cad. Liar. Overbearing male. Rude. Pushy. Thief…oh!” There simply were not enough words, she decided.
“Talking to someone?” Shawna poked her head around the door. “I thought I heard someone calling names.” She grinned, eyeing her friend’s heightened color.
“Could be,” Melanie answered, forcing a smile. “The way today’s been going, anything might happen.” She looked at her roomie curiously. “What are you doing here?”
Shawna unpinned her glistening hair and shook it free of her confining nurse’s cap. She wasn’t wearing scrubs, Melanie noticed.
“Not operating today?”
“Oh, Mal is late again. You know, it’s getting so that the man never manages to arrive in the operating room until at least an hour after his scheduled time.” Mal was her pet name for a doctor on staff she particularly despised. Short for malpractice.
“Doesn’t that sort of throw things off?” Melanie knew enough about the tightly funded medical world to know that time is money, especially in an operating room.
“Oh,