Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy (48 page)

Dana fingered the panic button where it rested in her scrub pocket. She was even tempted to press it. But what would she tell Dr. Marx and his staff when they burst into the room to rescue her? That she’d had a very vague feeling of dread about the man who’d been assigned to protect her from the insane and woman-phobic Jerry, even though Craig hadn’t actually done anything to harm her? Somehow, she didn’t think that would go over very well.

Dana heard snoring from the far side of the room. Jerry had fallen asleep. So much for Charles Dickens. She snapped the book shut and sighed. “Let’s go,” she said and stood up from her chair.

“No.” Dana felt Craig’s huge, meaty hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down into her seat. “We’re not done yet. We’ve got fifteen minutes left.”

A slow tide of fear began to rise deep in Dana’s belly. It seemed she might have been right about Craig all along. “The patient is asleep, Craig. I don’t really think we’re going to be any more use to him right now.” She tried to stand again, but Craig crowded her and kept her in her chair. His body seemed to suck up all the air in the room.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes left,” the hulking ex-Marine said again. “And you’re staying right where you are until I’m finished with you.”

Craig made a move to grope Dana, but Dana would have none of it. No way in hell was she going to allow another man to do what Captain Masters had done all those years ago. She kneed him hard in the groin, then punched him square in the face. The huge man crumpled into a ball and landed on the floor, groaning. Dana stood up and pushed the panic button.

A moment later, Dr. Marx and two orderlies rushed in. He gaped in shock at Craig wallowing in pain on the floor. “What happened, Miss Jackson? Are you all right?”

“I quit,” she seethed, and shoved right past him.

Out with the old Dana Johnson, and in with the new. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

****

Harlan let himself inside the house. The vast two-story entry foyer was dark, and every room in the vast sixteen-room mansion he shared with Joanna was silent. He wondered for a moment if she was even at home. But she had to be; her car was in the driveway, and the deadbolt wasn’t engaged when he came in. Joanna never left the house unlocked unless she was home.

Harlan climbed the stairs without turning the light on. Something deep in the pit of his stomach told him not to alert Joanna to his presence. He didn’t know exactly what, but something told him he needed to be protective of her, more so than he’d ever been before—as if now he had more to lose than he ever had in his life.

The upstairs hallway was dark, and the door to the master bedroom was half-open. He pushed it wide enough to pass through, and it squeaked ever so slightly. The master bedroom was even darker than the hallway—Joanna had pulled the drapes shut, blocking out the early evening light. She lay sprawled across the bed on top of the covers, fast asleep. There was a pile of used Kleenexes next to her head, and her sleeping eyes were red and puffy; Harlan could tell she had been crying. Because of him, no doubt.

Harlan sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the small sitting room just opposite the huge four-poster bed, and waited. He’d wait all night if he had to. He had to speak to Joanna, had to explain what had really happened that day, had to explain his true feelings for her. His marriage—even his whole life—depended on it.

Harlan had once lost all that was precious to him, and in the worst possible way. He swore that come hell or high water, it would never happen again.

Fifteen

Billy Hartzell was in his pickup truck, heading east. He didn’t know exactly why, but when he drove into Little Rock, something made him turn his truck around in the other direction. He was heading back to Statesville, heading back to the arms of the woman he loved. The woman he had met only two or three times, had touched only once—and yet, the woman he knew was his soulmate.

He had to get back to Statesville, had to make one last try for her. And he knew he might fail. Hell, he knew he would
probably
fail. But he also knew that if he didn’t at least give it a shot, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

He drove and drove for hours. Arkansas gave way to Tennessee; rolling hills and river bottoms gave way to tall wooded mountains. Soon he was back in the beautiful, mist-filled Appalachians, the glorious land that Dana Johnson called home. Though like Billy, she was originally from the red, muddy hills of Georgia, Dana was a backwoods mountain girl at heart. As Billy drove the twisting, narrow mountain roads he felt almost as if he’d won her back just by being there.

It wasn’t going to be that easy, of course. Billy figured that Dana probably hated his guts by now. Not only had his carelessness helped kill five people, he’d lit out of town without even saying goodbye. He hadn’t exactly been given a choice, of course, but Dana probably didn’t see it that way. If he popped back into Statesville, at least he’d have a chance to explain his side of things. She might not want to listen, but he had to give it a try.

****

Maryam was at her supervisor’s desk on the main ward bright and early the next morning, catching up on paperwork. She was signing off on a stack of nurse timecards when Starla Berring bounded up to her.

“Well, well, well,” Maryam clucked. “Don’t we work fast?”

Starla gave her a blank look. “What are you talking about?”

Maryam chuckled. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, hon. The whole damn hospital’s talkin’ about it.”

“I still don’t know what you mean.”

Maryam rolled her eyes. She glanced over both shoulders to make sure no one was listening, then lowered her voice. “I mean, you took care of Dr. Harlan Wilkinson already. Nice job. You musta wore him out, since they found him passed out and naked in his office. And I had to be the one to wake him up, dontchya know. I gotta say, thanks hon. I’ll never forget the site of his naked body for as long as I live.”

Starla’s eyes widened and she went white as a sheet. “But I—we—didn’t do anything! I mean, I tried to, I came onto him just like you said I should! But it didn’t work. He just told me he was a married man and walked away.”

Maryam blinked. She took several moments to process this information. “Well, that’s a horse of a different color,” she finally said. “And I’m afraid it’s just gonna make the whole situation worse.”

“How so?”

“Never you mind, hon,” Maryam snapped. “Now run along. You’re on duty in Geriatrics today. Bedpan duty. We’re short on staff over there, and long on patients.”

“Geriatrics!” Starla protested. “I
hate
Geriatrics! And I’m an OR nurse! Why should I have to go clean up old peoples’ shit?”

“Because I say you have to, hon,” Maryam shot back. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” Maryam handed her a stack of shift notes and motioned for her to get going.

Starla tucked the file under her arm and headed off towards Geriatrics, her eyes smarting. Other nurses and hospital staff pointed and whispered about her as she walked by. She was obviously the laughingstock of the whole hospital—and through no fault of her own.

Sure, Starla would be the first to admit that she was a little free and easy when it came to who she was willing to open her legs for. And yes, it was true she’d made a play for Dr. Harlan Wilkinson, even though she couldn’t stand the man. But she’d done it at Maryam Malone’s request, for the sake of patient safety and workplace harmony.

And the whole thing had just blown up in her face. She’d stuck her neck out for Maryam—
way
out—and what did she get in return? She got to spend eight hours cleaning up old peoples’ shit.

Starla laughed despite herself as an old saying of her mother’s reverberated through her brain.
When life hands you shit, make mud pies.

She could do that, all right. She could do that and more.

Today marked the last time that the world fucked around with Starla Berring. From now on, it would be the other way around. She’d get back at everyone who had humiliated her if it was the last thing she ever did.

And Maryam Malone was first on her list.

****

Rebecca Marsh paced frantically up and down the narrow six-foot span of her dark and dusty office in Old Wards. The private investigator she’d hired to track down Billy Hartzell was supposed to have called over an hour ago, but so far, no dice. And the state inspectors were due to show up the day after tomorrow. She was running out of time, and in more ways than one.

Rebecca Marsh was a workaholic who hadn’t been on a date in over two years. She hadn’t gotten laid in more than three. So it went without saying that she was damn horny, to the point that it interfered with her work, with her thinking—hell, just about everything she did. She needed sex, and she needed it now. And as far as she saw it, Billy Hartzell was the best place for her to get it.

He was hot, for one. And he was desperate for work, for another. And rumor had it he was sweet on one of the pretty young nurses. Maybe, just maybe, Rebecca could dangle a promise of his job back in exchange for just one little discreet dalliance. She was sure that one night between the sheets with Billy Hartzell would be more than enough to make up for her three-year dry spell. One night of fun and passion, with no strings attached. What redblooded twenty-two-year-old man wouldn’t jump at the chance to sleep with an attractive older woman, no commitment required?

Rebecca was a cougar, and if she had her way, Billy Hartzell would make her growl.

Rebecca’s desk phone rang. She snatched it up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Rebecca, Philip Jones here. I’m finished with my investigation, and haven’t turned up a thing. Looks to me like this Billy Hartzell character has gone up in smoke.”

Rebecca’s heart sank. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve done all my usual investigations—credit cards, bank transactions, hotel stays. The only thing I turned up was that Billy made a large cash withdrawal from the Chase Bank branch in Statesville. After that, nada. If he’s doing anything—eating in restaurants, staying in hotels— he’s paying in cash, which is untraceable. I’ll let you know if anything else turns up, but as far as I’m concerned, this guy is long gone.”

“I understand,” Rebecca said with a heavy sigh. “Thanks anyway for your time.”

She hung up, cursing herself for being so forceful with Billy, running him out of town with a threat of criminal charges following the Geriatrics incident. What on earth had she been thinking? Why had she been so quick to take the hospital lawyers’ advice? She was a human-resources executive with more than fifteen years’ experience, and she knew by now that the lawyers weren’t always right about everything. The chaos of that fateful day in Geriatrics had really clouded her judgment.

That, and the fact she hadn’t gotten laid in three years.

Something had to give. Rebecca Marsh was a healthy, attractive forty-one-year-old woman at the absolute peak of her sexual appetites—and yet, she couldn’t get laid to save her life. That would be bad enough all by itself, but now her sexual problems were spilling over into her career. She desperately needed sex, somewhere, somehow—or her head was going to explode.

Before she had any more time to think, her desk phone rang again.

“Rebecca Marsh,” she said into the receiver, her voice clipped and tense.

“Rebecca, we have a problem.” It was George McGill, and he did not sound happy.

“What’s that?”

McGill sighed. “Well, where should I start? Dana Johnson, the new nurse-anesthetist who assisted on one of the Geriatrics death cases—do you remember her?”

“Of course I do. I hired her.”

“Well, she just quit.”

“Why’d she quit? I just hired her a month ago.”

McGill sighed again. “Something about one of Dr. Marx’s psych experiments gone bad. There was an assault of some kind. We’re still looking into it.”

“That Dr. Marx is a real loose cannon,” Rebecca mused. “I’ve been warning Administration about him for years.”

“I know, I know,” McGill snapped. “But Marx brings in a lot of funding. And money talks.”

“That’s the way of the world, isn’t it George?”

“You bet. Speaking of which, what’s the story from that private investigator you hired? Was he able to track that Hartzell character down? The state inspectors are gonna be here day after tomorrow.”

“The PI just called. Billy Hartzell is nowhere to be found. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth.”

McGill coughed. “As I recall, that’s exactly what you told him he should do.”

“Well, I was wrong,” she snapped. “And with Dana Johnson gone, now that’s
two
people the state inspectors won’t get to interview.”

“Rebecca, the way our staff keeps disappearing, it’s gonna look suspicious.”

“I know, I know,” she groaned. Things were just getting worse and worse. “I’ll keep trying to track Billy down. And I have Dana Johnson’s home address. I think I’ll go and have a little chat with her.”

****

Harlan watched as Joanna began to stir in their big four-poster bed. It was well past midnight, and a violent thunderstorm raged outside. A heavy thunderclap rattled the huge house to its foundations, waking his wife out of her slumber.

She sat upright slowly, rubbed her eyes, and stretched. She seemed oblivious to Harlan’s presence, and he did nothing to announce himself. She climbed out of bed and padded softly across the thick pile carpet in her bare feet towards the bathroom.

Harlan heard a toilet flush, followed by running water. He waited until Joanna came back out into the bedroom before he flipped on the light.

She was almost on top of him when the reading lamp by his easy chair flickered on as if by magic. She stopped short, and her eyes grew wide.

“Hello, Joanna.”

A little gasp of shock escaped Joanna’s lips, but she said nothing.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Harlan said. “I was supposed to be on call tonight, but there’s been a change of plans.”

Again, Joanna said nothing. She wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Joanna, what’s wrong?”

She scoffed.
“What’s wrong?”
she repeated, mocking him. “You can actually ask me that with a straight face? You’re even more of a scoundrel than I thought.”

“Joanna—“

“Don’t you
Joanna
me. You’ve got some serious explaining to do, Harlan Wilkinson. Whatever made you think you could sleep with that cheap tramp Starla Berring without me finding out about it? Whatever made you think you could get away with traipsing around your office naked? Honestly, Harlan, what is going through your head? What the hell do you take me for—an idiot?”

“Joanna, let me explain—“

“Explain?
Explain?
There’s nothing for you to explain. Why don’t
I
explain things to
you?”

Harlan blinked, but showed no emotion. “Go ahead.”

“For one thing, Harlan, you are damn lucky to have me for a wife.
Damn
lucky. Do you know how many women out there would be willing to put up with even one-tenth of what I put up with from you? Here’s a clue. Zero. You’re an arrogant, selfish ogre, Harlan. Especially lately.”

Harlan bit his lip and stared at the carpet. “I don’t deny that.”

Joanna just kept right on going. “You know what else you are? A liar and a cheat.”

Harlan’s jaw tensed. “No, Joanna, I am not. I’ve never lied to you, and I’ve never cheated on you. Ever.”

At this, Joanna, actually laughed. “You really expect me to believe that after the way you were openly flirting with that floozy Starla Berring right in front of me? You expect me to believe that after somebody found you
with your pants down
in your office?”

“No, I don’t expect you to believe it. But I do expect you to give me a chance to explain myself. So I’ll ask again. Joanna, please let me explain.”

“Fine. Go ahead.” She flopped backward into a chair. “I’m all ears.”

Harlan took a deep breath, then blew it out though his mouth. “All right, here goes. I know you saw how Starla Berring was throwing herself at me in the OR. I know it might have seemed like I was enjoying it from your point of view, but truth be told it made me furious. How can someone be so completely lacking in morals that she openly flirts with a married man right in front of his wife? I mean, it’s just mind-boggling. Don’t you think so?”

Joanna agreed with every word Harlan had just said. But she wasn’t about to give Harlan the satisfaction of showing it. She just folded her arms across her chest and stared her husband down.