Midnight Hour (7 page)

“Wave to Sophie,” he advised as he descended the steps again.

He waved once at the older woman who was crossing the quiet tree-lined street and then walked calmly across Mercy’s small yard to his glossy black Chevelle and got in. The engine kicked over instantly, sounding as rough and dangerous as Nick Devereaux. When the car pulled away from the curb, Mercy closed her mouth.

“Hello, dear!” Sophie shouted. “How’s the plumbing?”

Mercy marveled at her neighbor’s ability to completely ignore the fact that Nick’s car hadn’t moved
a millimeter since last night, that he’d wandered out of her house at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning looking considerably worse for wear, and that he’d all but kissed her on the porch. “My plumbing’s fine, but my nerves are completely shot.”

“Oh, dear.” The exclamation sounded more delighted than concerned, but Sophie climbed the steps and linked arms. “Then you’ve got to tell me everything. Is that coffee I smell?”

“Not according to Nick.”

“Let’s have some anyway, shall we?”

As she sat at the kitchen table, stirring her second cup of coffee, Mercy wished she could turn down the wattage on Sophie’s bright yellow Mexican dress. The hem of this one was decorated with entwined blossoms in purple, turquoise, and pink. Sophie resembled nothing so much as a cheerful canary, and Mercy found the image distracting when she was trying to carry on a serious conversation.

Sophie—her sweet, gentle, grandmotherly neighbor—never directed a question at her that wasn’t fully loaded. “So tell me, dear, is he good with his hands?”

A large gulp of coffee went down the wrong way, and Mercy grabbed for her napkin.

When the coughing fit subsided, Mercy looked at Sophie through watery eyes and croaked, “Excuse me?”

“Is he good with his hands? On the phone you told me he was a doctor.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Some doctors just can’t cope with the real world, you know. Did he take care of your plumbing problem with a minimum of fuss?”

Mercy breathed a sigh of relief, sniffed, and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, that. He was very capable.”

“Yes,” agreed the older woman sagely. “He did strike me as the sort of fellow one could count on.”

“I said he was capable. Not reliable.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not even close.”

Sophie set her cup carefully on the saucer, worry creasing her brow. “You don’t sound as though you like the boy very much.”

“Boy? Nick Devereaux can hardly be called a boy!
The word implies youth and uncertainty.” Mercy tapped her fingernail against the cup edge. “I don’t know how old Nick is, but he’s years past being young and uncertain.”

“Good. Then it’s not totally hopeless.” Sophie beamed and clasped her hands. “Joan and I were beginning to worry.”

“Excuse me?” Mercy asked again, unable to keep the stunned expression off her face.

“Well, dear, we’ve tried to fix you up with every eligible male in these parts without much luck.”

Mercy’s mouth fell open. Finally, she sputtered, “You haven’t! Tell me you haven’t.”

“Of course we have, dear. What are friends for?” Sophie patted her knee in an attempt to alleviate her distress. “We tried everyone—handsome, passable, widowers, even a few unemployed men. Only, you see, this is a small town. None of the men wanted to fail in front of his friends. You intimidated them.”

“How could I intimidate them? I haven’t even spoken to most of them!”

“That racy young woman you play on television intimidated them, dear. We tried to tell them that the woman on television isn’t the real you, but men’s egos are so fragile. All of them were positive you wouldn’t give them the time of day, at least not after the first date. Especially the unemployed ones. Well, their loss is your doctor’s gain,” she finished encouragingly.

“He’s not
my
doctor,” Mercy argued lamely.

“Well, not yet, but I have hopes.”

“No, you don’t.” Knowing she had to take control before Sophie began planning a fall wedding, Mercy told her the facts. “Nick slept in a chair last night.
He fell asleep, and I didn’t have the heart to send him out in the rain. That’s all there is to it. I’m sorry, but we didn’t spend the night in wild passionate abandon. Nick Devereaux and I are not—I repeat not—romantically inclined. And even if he were, I wouldn’t be.”

“Oh, dear. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Are you
sure
Nick isn’t interested? He seemed awfully interested to me.”

Mercy groaned and cradled her head in her hands for a moment. Snapping her head up and flipping long hair out of her face, she said, “Sophie, you’re like family to me, and I appreciate your concern. But I am not looking for a man. I like my life. I like my job. Believe me. I meet men. If I wanted to date, I could.”

“That’s all very nice, dear. But is Nick interested or not?” Sophie persisted. “He seemed interested to me. The man drove all the way down here from Louisville, and he kissed you.”

“He didn’t come to see me, and he didn’t kiss me! Actually he did, but he didn’t.”

“Well, which is it? Did he or didn’t he kiss you?”

“He didn’t kiss me, and he didn’t come to see me. Not the way you mean.” Drumming her fingers in an irritated rhythm, Mercy explained, “He works in Emergency at Mercy Hospital. He needs some help with a benefit for the hospital.”

“Then he’ll be back?” Sophie was obviously relieved.

“No, he won’t.”

Horrified, Sophie drew herself up. “You don’t mean to tell me that you refused to help that gorgeous man after he fixed your plumbing?”

“I didn’t turn him down!” Consciously, Mercy relaxed her jaw. “Even if he hadn’t fixed my pipe, I would have said yes.”

“Then why won’t he be back?” Sophie demanded. “This whole thing doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

“He won’t be back here because I’m going to make sure that all the details are taken care of in Louisville. I have no intention of encouraging a relationship with a doctor. I won’t spend my days and nights waiting for a beeper to go off or the answering service to call. I moved to Haunt to get a little old-fashioned peace and quiet.” Mercy gave Sophie a meaningful look. “I won’t have any peace and quiet with Nick camping out on my doorstep.”

“Trying to keep that Dr. Devereaux away from here is a bit like closing the barn door once all your horses have bolted, if you ask me.”

Most of the time, Mercy adored Sophie. Now was not one of those times. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I don’t think your Dr. Devereaux is going to play by your rules.”

“He’s not
my
doctor,” Mercy corrected again.

“Well, he could be with just a little effort on your part,” Sophie said firmly.

“This is too absurd,” Mercy muttered.

She picked up her empty coffee cup and carried it to the sink with her. The view out the window was one of the reasons Mercy bought the house. An enormous crab-apple tree stood watch over her back fence. Now its branches were weighed down by thousands of rain droplets from last night’s storm.

Finally and without looking around, Mercy said,
“One minute you’re telling me that Nick’s already interested—not that I care—and the next you’re telling me that I need to make an effort if I want him! Sophie, if I was going to make an effort, it would be to scare Nick Devereaux off.”

“Oh, dear! He doesn’t look like the type who scares easily”—Sophie paused dramatically—“unless he’s one of those men who only likes the chase and then doesn’t know what to do once he’s caught a woman. Do you think he’s one of those?”

The quick denial died on Mercy’s lips as she remembered that despite two golden opportunities, Nick hadn’t kissed her. She’d been willing, and he hadn’t kissed her. He sat on the edge of her bed this morning and didn’t try anything. What made him hold back unless he was all bark and no bite?

On the porch this morning, he might have backed off because of Sophie, but what about last night in the kitchen? It was just the two of them, no witnesses. He’d made a flip excuse about fixing the pipe and turned away at the last second. Mercy stared out the window, wondering if Sophie was right. Wondering if her own initial impression of Nick had been wrong.

“It’s so hard to tell about men,” Sophie lamented from behind her. “Just to be on the safe side, don’t wear your television outfits around him until he’s more comfortable with you. I’m not criticizing, you understand, but some of those outfits could give a man performance anxiety. And there’s always the fear that he may think you’re too racy for a doctor to date. I’m sure he has his reputation at the hospital to consider.”

Mercy smiled as she put her coffee cup in the sink.
Performance anxiety
. If Sophie was right, wouldn’t that wipe the smile off the doctor’s face? Wouldn’t it be nice to have the upper hand for once? She wondered which outfit would do the trick. “He did say something about a reputation,” she said.

If Mercy had turned away from the window a moment sooner, she might have seen Sophie’s satisfied expression, but by the time she looked at Sophie, her friend’s brow was creased with concern. Sophie got up to leave. “You remember what I said now. None of those sexy outfits that are liable to give a man nightmares. Especially don’t wear that practically indecent black shirt of yours.”

Mercy Hospital looked like a huge, ugly, brick paperweight designed to keep the deteriorating neighborhood from blowing away in a breeze. A metal overhang covered the wide concrete stoop that fanned out from the front of the building. As Mercy walked through the glass doors she readjusted the thin shoulder strap of her black purse and smiled. She was actually looking forward to seeing Nick’s face when he saw Midnight Mercy in person in all her glory.

Once she was inside the large foyer, memories assailed her. The hushed quiet of the common area was as familiar as the dying ficus tree beside the information center. Of course, the small tree couldn’t possibly be the one she remembered, but the resemblance was uncanny. As she quickstepped past the information desk Mercy shot a question toward the woman’s back. “Is the cafeteria still downstairs?”

Without looking up from her computer screen,
the woman pointed and said, “Unless they moved since this morning. Take the elevator down one floor and follow the main corridor. I wouldn’t order the meat loaf.”

Stifling a grin, Mercy said, “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome.” The woman shoved a pencil behind her ear and grabbed the phone as it rang.

“Some things never change,” Mercy murmured as she maneuvered around a yellow triangle inscribed with bright red words: CAUTION—WET FLOOR. Not trusting the traction of the soles of her high heels, she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and hurried toward the bank of elevators.

She punched the arrow with the knuckle of her index finger as an elevator going down slid open. As the people emptied the elevator several of them did a double take with varying degrees of recognition in their faces. Mercy felt a moment’s guilt over slipping quickly into the elevator without giving them a chance to pull out pens and ask the inevitable, “Say—aren’t you …?” But she rationalized her behavior with the excuse that she was late already. Twenty minutes late. The door finally whisked closed, and Mercy relaxed, blowing out a puff of breath.

“If you’re gonna dress like that,
chère
, you gotta expect to sign a few autographs.”

Mercy jumped and whirled away from the button panel to find Nick leaning nonchalantly in the corner of the wide elevator. Her first thought was that he looked tired and rumpled in his hospital scrubs, but her second thought was that he also looked dangerously sexy and could use a little tender loving care. When she caught her breath, she said, “Good God!
I thought this elevator was empty. Stop sneaking up on me!”

“I do not sneak,” he answered as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.

“Oh, and what do you call that little scene in my bedroom?”

“Charming?” Nick asked much too innocently, and walked past her into the hallway.

As she turned to follow, Mercy choked back her response and replaced it with, “Why, Sister Agatha! How … how nice to see you again.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it? You’re looking … well.” The tall silver-haired woman held out her hand to keep the elevator door from closing. In her pale blue linen suit, the nun appeared cool, well pressed, and completely in control. She looked every inch the authority figure Mercy remembered as she instructed, “But don’t waste time greeting me, Mercy. Please continue your discussion. The five other people waiting for the elevator and myself are vastly curious about the little scene in your bedroom. If it wasn’t charming, then what was it?”

“Nothing. It was nothing,” Mercy assured her as she gingerly stepped out of the elevator. Suddenly the three-inch spike heels, her indecent blouse, and the Ultrasuede miniskirt no longer seemed like such a good idea. “Nick was inspecting my house for … for …”

“For trouble. I agreed to help with the remodeling of that old dinosaur she lives in,” Nick supplied smoothly. “And we got into a heated discussion about old doorknobs and locks after I said I’d help.”

“Really,” the sister commented as she ushered the
group of hospital workers into the elevator with nothing more than a nod of her head. Sister calmly followed them in, but before she let the door slide shut, she said, “Mercy, I guess you’re lucky to have Nick’s help since he seems to know so much about bedroom doors and locks.”

“Lucky, that’s me,” Mercy echoed with a wan smile, waiting for the door to close. When it finally did, she shook her head in disbelief. Rather than lucky, stupid seemed like a more appropriate description. She’d been so focused on scaring off the good doctor that she’d totally forgotten she’d probably have to face Sister Agatha in these clothes.

Knowing better than to laugh, Nick enjoyed the view while Mercy collected herself. He took his time, starting from the floor up. Heels did wonderful things for her legs. As a doctor, his opinion of high heels was pretty low. They were terrible for a woman’s feet and back, but as a man, he appreciated the magic of flexed muscles and feminine curves. The soft fabric of her straight, rump-hugging skirt had one of those little open pleats in the back, and the see-through black blouse bared everything not covered by the skimpy black chemise she wore beneath it. He had no idea why she was barely dressed, but he liked her style.