Midnight Hour (22 page)

Normally spectacular, Mercy’s body defied description in the curve-hugging dress of dripping black icicles she wore. Miles of leg showed, and the slightest movement made the covering of icicles shimmer like black ice. The only thing remotely demure about the gown was the abbreviated turtleneck collar, which actually served to accentuate her breasts while baring her shoulders and arms completely.

When she turned to pick up a matching evening bag, Nick cursed. The damn dress was backless. Russet hair rippled and tumbled partway down, but not far enough to reach the sweet spot at the small of her back. Before he recovered from the first shock, he got another. Hell, the dress was practically bottomless too! The hanging icicles made it appear to cover more thigh than the dress really did.

Nick tugged at his stiff collar. Tonight was going
to be a long night. Midnight and the end of Ghouls’ Nite Out couldn’t come a minute too soon as far as he was concerned.

“Well,” Mercy said once she had her purse in her hand. “Either you love it or hate it. Which is it?”

“Both.”

Laughing, Mercy closed the door and slipped her arm through his. “I could say the same about you. That’s a pretty snazzy European tux you’ve got on.”

“I’m only following orders. My invitation said black tie and black stalkings.”

“How odd,” Mercy puzzled as she pushed the elevator button. “I must have read it too quickly. I thought the invitation said black tie and black
stockings.
How silly of me. I even dug out my one and only garter belt for the occasion.”

Before Nick could muster a reply, the elevator opened. The people inside recognized her instantly. As she chatted amiably with her public Nick was left to stew in the fantasies created by the woman beside him.

Twenty minutes later the hotel staff dimmed the lights, and Nick surveyed the prefunction area outside the larger banquet room. Mercy was in constant demand for autographs as she moved through the crowd. Judging from the number of heads whipping around to stare as she walked toward him, Nick would have bet that her dress was the subject of more than one conversation around the room. And rightfully so. The woman could drive a man to drink.

“
Laissez les bons temps rouler
,” Nick said, raising his
glass of chardonnay as she approached. “Let the good times roll.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Mercy told him flippantly. “You’re not waiting for my parents to walk in and cast a pall over the evening.”

“Of course I am,
chère.
I’m on pins and needles waiting for them to ask me what my intentions are toward their lovely daughter.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much. At this point, chances are less than fifty-fifty that they’ll show up to ask you anything.”

“They’ll show,
chère.
Else they would’ve called.”

“No, I’m afraid that’s not how it works in my family.” More resigned than sad, Mercy finally faced the fact that she’d never be more than an afterthought in her parents’ lives. To be perfectly honest, tonight the only face in the crowd she’d tried to find had been Nick’s. He always seemed to know, and he’d turn his head toward her, sharing the moment and a smile.

Standing next to Nick reminded her that people worth caring about also knew how to care about others. Maybe she was in the market for a man to clutter up her life after all. She walked her fingernails up his lapel. “I can ask you about your intentions toward me if you’re just dying to tell someone.”

“Too late. Sophie already asked.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing she didn’t already know,” Nick assured her.

Mercy thumped him on the chest, irritated with his answer. “Well, you were sitting on my porch half-naked. What was she supposed to think?”

“I don’t think it was my lack of shirt that gave
Sophie her ideas. She said it was the look on my face.”

“You smirked, didn’t you?”

“Not that I recall. Sophie said I looked like I’d been kicked in the head by a mule.”

When Mercy’s mouth dropped open, Nick reached over and closed it. “Pull yourself together,
chère.
Unless I’m totally mistaken about the resemblance, your mother has made her entrance.”

Mercy whirled. Black icicles flicked rapid fire against Nick’s tux as she turned. Her mother stood alone and observed the crowd like a lazy lioness who was confident of her ability to cut out the weak member of a herd. Raising her hand in a wave, Mercy said to Nick, “Hold on to your hat. Another one bit the dust.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mother never goes anywhere alone. She chooses men on the basis of their willingness to escort her at the drop of a hat. If Vaughn isn’t with her, I guarantee you, there is trouble in paradise.”

“Thank the dear Lord that you’re smarter than she is.”

“About what?”

As her mother came toward them Nick whispered, “Choosing men.”

“Mercy! You should thank me for passing on my figure and cheekbones. They look lovely on you.”

Nick stiffened beside her, and Mercy had to suppress a smile. Meeting her mother was a shock. Even her compliments were self-serving. “Mother. I’d like to introduce you Dr. Nick Devereaux. Nick this is my mother, Dr. Alexandra Stanton.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” she said graciously, and offered her hand briefly. “Your specialty?”

“Emergency. Mercy Hospital.”

“Ah …” The word was dismissive, as if she found his specialty unworthy of conversation. Turning back to Mercy, she said, “Now, where is that young man you wanted me to meet. Don’t tell me he’s left you already?” She paused almost long enough for Mercy to answer, but not quite. “Vaughn and I are postponing the wedding, you know. Things aren’t … going well.”

For a moment Mercy was suckered by the hint of sadness in her mother’s eyes and the regret in her voice, but before she could express her sympathy, her mother snapped to attention, all emotion vanished. “Lord, there’s Hank! I’ll be right back. I’ve got a case I’d like to discuss with him. Dr. Devereaux, would you like to join me? No?” As an afterthought, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Save me a seat at dinner, Mercy. I’ll meet the young man then.”

“Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am,” Nick uttered with a thunderstruck look on his face. “
Dieu.
Is she always like this?”

Mercy shook her head. “No. Often she’s worse. At least she remembered I had someone I wanted her to meet even if she didn’t remember the name.”

“No wonder the woman can’t keep a relationship together. She wouldn’t know an honest, caring emotion if it bit her on the butt—” Nick winced, realizing how rude he sounded. “Sorry. She’s your mother. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She didn’t answer for a long time, instead watching
her mother eagerly talk shop across the room. In the blink of an eye Alexandra could relegate her personal life to second place and concentrate on medicine. The only thing she really cared about. The only thing that had been able to hold her interest over the years.

“Don’t apologize, Nick. You’re right. About everything. Mother doesn’t choose well. She hasn’t a clue what to look for or how to take care of it when she finds it.”

Nick cupped the back of her neck with his hand and let his thumb stroke her skin. “You must have gotten all your warmth from your father.”

Softly, Mercy said, “What father? The one that isn’t here?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m glad.” Mercy smiled brightly, realizing that in the last few weeks she’d learned to trust him, to believe in what she saw every day. He cared about people, not just medicine.

After dinner, Mercy took the stage to thank everyone involved and announced the name of the lucky guest who’d been selected to cohost
The Midnight Hour.
Once all the commotion subsided, she had intended to deliver a brief dignified speech to reveal that they’d raised almost three hundred thousand dollars after expenses. But when she called Nick on stage to represent the hospital, a couple of the women in the crowd recognized him from the promos and soon had everyone hollering for Nick to kiss her again.

Astounded by the reaction, Mercy tried to control
her laughter. Roars of approval greeted Nick as he played to the crowd by bending Mercy backward in a re-creation of their promo kiss. From that point on, Mercy forgot about everything but Nick. If two thousand people thought they belonged together, who was she to argue?

Later, in the hotel suite, Mercy forgot everything but the feel of Nick’s body as he covered her, loving her. Nick felt her complete surrender as their passion crested and she clung to him whispering his name as though she’d never let him go.

Easing away from her, Nick lay back against the pillows and cradled her head against his shoulder. Little by little he’d come alive again with Mercy. There wasn’t a doubt about it anymore, Nick told himself. He had marriage on his mind. He wanted to see a ring on her finger and know that he had family again.

“We’ve reached a crossroads,
chère.
One of us is going to have to say it first. And I’m willing.”

“To say what first?” Mercy murmured sleepily as she snuggled closer to his warmth, dropping a kiss on his chest.

“I love you.”

She stilled immediately, wide-awake, holding her breath, and afraid she’d heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

“I … love … you.”

Mercy pulled out of his arms, dragging the sheet around her and the hair out of her eyes as she searched his face. She wasn’t ready for this. The whole idea of loving Nick, of wanting him as a permanent part of her life, was barely a few hours old. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to say the words.

“Ah,
chère.
” Nick shook his head at the stunned and uncertain look on her face. “Do you want me to engrave it in stone before you’ll believe it?”

“It’d be a start at least,” Mercy told him softly.

Her answer struck him as fanny, and he laughed incredulously. “And what else would you like? I’ll engrave it in a wedding band, spell it out with rocks, and write it in the sky, if you want.”

“What I want is exactly what scares me,” Mercy told him. “God knows I want to believe you.”

“Then believe me. Let me inside your heart, Mercy. All the way this time.”

Now it was Mercy’s turn to laugh. “There isn’t a woman alive who could keep you out, Nick Devereaux.”

Nick snatched the sheet away and rolled her beneath him. “Does that mean you love me?”

“It must,” whispered Mercy, admitting the truth. “Because I’ve never really tried to keep you out.”

Nick’s lips came down on hers, at once promising and demanding promises. Before Mercy could do more than wrap her arms around his neck, the telephone interrupted them.

“Don’t answer it,” Nick told her, working his way down her neck.

“We have to. It might be for you. Might be an emergency.”

“It might be Publishers Clearing House with my million dollars, but I don’t care.”

Ignoring him, Mercy wiggled and stretched until she could reach the phone. “Hello? Just a minute.” She covered the receiver. “Would you
stop
that. It’s for you.”

Annoyed, he lifted his mouth from paying homage to one rosy nipple and grabbed the telephone. “Devereaux. And this better be good.”

While he listened to the voice on the phone, Mercy slipped on a robe and hugged the knowledge of his love close. Something she’d never dreamed possible had finally happened. She’d found someone she could trust with her heart. Wonders never ceased, because he was a doctor to boot.

Suddenly very still, Nick said, “I’ll be right there. Give me about fifteen minutes.” He let the receiver slide down his chest and then hung it up.

Children and teenagers were always the toughest for him, because he wanted to care more than he should. Lately, pushing back thoughts of Catherine lying helpless in an emergency room took every ounce of willpower he had. With an effort, he locked away his feelings and prepared himself to face what lay ahead. “I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, aware of the controlled quality of his voice and the emotional distance created by Nick’s sudden aloofness.

“An eighteen-wheeler plowed through the railing of an expressway overpass and crushed a busload of teenagers coming back from band camp. They’re kids from the hospital neighborhood.” He paused long enough to reach for his clothes lying at the foot of the bed. As he pulled on his pants he told her, “The regional trauma center’s going to have more than it can handle once they start pulling bodies out of the wreckage. We’re the closest hospital, so we’ll be getting the overflow.”

“How many? Did they say?”

Without so much as a look in her direction, Nick gave his tux shirt a good shake and slid into it. “Paramedics told the hospital to figure that as many as ten were coming our way. Some with serious injuries.”

“But you’re not equipped or staffed for something like this! You said so yourself. How are you going to handle so many cases?”

“Triage,” he told her absently, his mind already
going over details he’d have to handle once he got to the hospital.

“Triage?”

“It’s a protocol for treating the most seriously injured first.” Nick finished buttoning his shirt, the adrenaline beginning to flow as he focused on the task ahead. “Even then, we may have to make hard choices. If I can save three lives, with the same resources it would take to save one, I’ve got to save three. Or risk losing all four.” He scanned the floor. “Have you seen my shoes?”

Mercy didn’t answer. She was remembering her first tour of the emergency room, how he’d disconnected his emotions and become all doctor, all business, just like her parents. “You really are prepared to make choices like that,” Mercy whispered, cold fingers closing around her heart. “You can decide who to help.”

“It’s a matter of priorities. You gotta make a decision and move on.”

Priorities? Move on?

How could the warm, caring man who shared her bed moments before turn off his emotions like that? She didn’t know the dispassionate and detached man standing in front of her. How could Nick talk about protocols and priorities instead of worrying about people and pain? How could he divorce himself so totally from his emotions that he could accept the loss of one patient and walk calmly to the next based on
priorities
?