Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) (6 page)

Alexi grinned. “Since my sex life is
fruitful, let’s discuss yours.”

“
I’m not about to discuss
my non-existent sex life. But I am going to read you the riot act
while I massage your feet. That whole shopping trip and dress
buying thing was a set up. You knew Jackson was going to be here
tonight, didn’t you?” Nan pushed the button to keep drying her
dress and joined Alexi, motioning for Alexi’s feet.

“
Guilty,” Alexi winced. “I
thought it would do him good to see you looking great and out with
another man. God, that feels good.” Alexi moaned.

“
You also made it sound as
if Brad and I had a relationship.”

Alexi winced. “Well maybe a little. If
he thought that you were—”

“
Let it go, Lex. Jackson
isn’t the right man for me.”

“
Better than Brad. If a
man let me fend for myself during the storm of the century on our
first date, there wouldn’t be a second.”

“
He’s dedicated to his
career and his patients. I understand and admire that.” Nan sighed.
“Besides, what you have with Jesse doesn’t happen for
everyone.”

“
So, you’ve never met a
man that lights your fire?” Alexi asked, tongue in
cheek.

Nan narrowed her eyes. “I’m not
discussing Jackson.”

Alexi smiled, pleased. “Who brought up
his name? Not me.”

Uncomfortable with the direction of
the conversation, Nan turned the spotlight on Alexi. “Your feet are
swollen. Bet you haven’t rested all day.”

“
I did rest for about an
hour. My feet are always swollen these days. I suppose its part of
the package.” Alexi lovingly rubbed the side of her protruding
stomach. “By evening junior and I are ready to call it a
day.”

“
You need to slow down.
Not do so much. Maybe we better not go to the play Wednesday
night.” Worried, Nan ran an assessing eye over Alexi, searching for
any other signs that a complication might be rising.

“
No. I’m fine,
really. I’m looking forward to seeing
A
Midsummer Night’s Dream
. Sitting and laughing isn’t
going to overtire me.”

“
Have you told Dr.
Schwartz how you’re feeling?”

“
A little.”

“
That doesn’t tell me
much. What was your last blood pressure?” Nan pressed her fingers
against Alexi swollen ankles to determine the level of edema and
checked the pulses there.

Alexi laughed. “I’m fine, really. My
blood pressure was a hundred and twenty over eighty-five at my last
check-up. She said some swelling at the end of the day is normal,
though it wasn’t as bad as this then.”

“
That’s a higher pressure
than normal for you. Any headaches, dizziness, blurred vision?
Swelling in your hands?”

“
Just a little, but
nothing to speak of, Nurse Miller. You’re sounding as worried about
the baby as Jackson was a few minutes ago. You’d think I was
planning to go skydiving instead of just drive myself home. Both of
you are going to have me spooked.”

“Maybe I’m being a little paranoid. But do me a
favor. Stay off your feet a few days, call Dr. Schwartz for another
check-up, cut back on your salt, and increase your protein
intake.”

Alexi groaned. “You do know how to
knock a woman when she’s down. All I’ve been craving lately is
French fries dripping with catsup. Between you and Jackson, I’ll be
propped up and homebound for a whole month with nothing to console
me.” Alexi lowered her feet to the floor and slipped on her
shoes.

Nan frowned. “This late in your
pregnancy the least little fender bender could cause a major
problem.”

“
You know how many do’s
and don’ts are dumped on a woman the moment she gets pregnant? I
had to give up chocolate. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby. Pretty
soon they’re probably going to tell me I have to give up sex, too.
I’ll go crazy. A beached whale, stuck at home, no chocolate, and no
Jesse.” Alexi frowned, seemingly having the weight of the world
settle on her.

“
Come on, it can’t be all
that bad. Just think. In a little over a month, you’ll have it all.
Jesse, a baby, and choc—uh, scratch the chocolate while
breastfeeding. I’ve heard it gives babies gas. Call me. I’ll drive
you where you need to go until after the baby is born, but I won’t
take you to get French fries or chocolate.” She hugged Alexi. “I’d
better get dressed.”

“
No fries. I’m dying
here!” Alexi wailed in mock distress. “This is pain!”

“
Think about something
else.” Nan scooted off the couch and struck a pose. “How about this
outfit for dinner with the hospital’s bigwigs—”

The door burst open, and Jackson
filled its frame. “What in the hell’s going on? Is she having the
baby?”

Nan jumped with fright at the thunder
in Jackson voice. Her jaw dropped and she froze on the spot, much
as she supposed a deer would pinned by the headlights of a Mack
truck. Jackson looked wild and dangerous.

“
I heard dying. . .pain—”
His gaze fell on her and he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth
wide open mid-word. His eyes blazed to laser points as he cut a
path down her body. His look sucker-punched Nan in the gut. It
wasn’t until her breath whooshed from her lungs and she felt the
suspicious tickle of air on her left breast that she realized what
he was seeing. Oh God. She snapped the jacket closed.

Jackson had already covered half the
distance to her. The look in his eyes was one of a man intent on
retrieving his jacket. Now.

From the sidelines of this tableau,
Alexi burst into laughter, holding her baby-swollen girth. “I
wouldn’t have missed this for the world, but I’d better get out
now.”

Jackson shook his head as if coming
out of a trance. “I thought. . .” Nan saw him spare Alexi a brief
glance.

Alexi grinned. “You heard a pregnant
woman who just realized she had to give up French
fries.”

Jackson frowned then grinned. “I came
to tell you both they’re serving dinner.” He swung his gaze back to
her and Nan wanted to run and hide. “You wear my jacket
well.”

“
Doesn’t she?” Alexi piped
on her way to the door. “You should see what’s
underneath.”

“
I did,” Jackson
drawled.

Mortified, Nan hugged Jackson’s coat
closer and sent him and Alexi a murderous look. “Both of you shut
up and get out.”

Alexi laughed and disappeared out the door. Jackson
followed, only he didn’t leave. The door closed, shutting them
intimately together. He folded his arms and leaned against the door
as his bedroom blues made another slow assessment of her. She
burned, wanting his electric touch like a desert thirsting for
water. Yet, she denied herself and kept a disapproving frown
centered on her face.

He moved her way then, coming so close
that she could feel his heat. He cocked his brow at her and glanced
down at her exposed cleavage before he grabbed the jacket and
pulled her against his arousal. “I’ll get
it
later,” he said softly.

Nan mouth went dry. Still, she managed to add just
the right touch of ennui to her voice. “Will you?”

Smiling, he backed away and opened the
door then looked at her. “Of course. A man can’t live without his
jacket.” Nan swore his grin housed the devil.

Minutes later, Nan dashed from the
dressing room as if Satan was on her heels. He who she was again
trying not to name seemed to be everywhere. She slid into her seat
next to Brad Swanson at the banquet table, seeing that the salads
had already been served, but no one was eating.

Several members of the upper echelon
of Memorial Hospital were seated at the table and were waiting for
her with disapproving frowns—the Chairman of the Board of
Directors, the long dead founder’s great-granddaughter, the
administrator, several departmental heads, and Isabel Barra—a VIP
consultant from Switzerland known in the nursing circles as Bella
Barracuda. This was not good.

Cheeks flushing, Nan nodded a
greeting. They watched as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on
her lap. She cleared her throat. “Sorry I’m late.”

Her apology seemed to set everyone in
motion, but their looks of disapproval remained. Nan expelled the
air she had trapped in her lungs.

“
Didn’t think there’d be
much traffic out,” Brad whispered, leaning her way.

“
No traffic. Just rain,
buckets of it and a wicked wind from the West.” Nan rubbed her
temple at the beginnings of a headache. She was a storm blown mess,
while not a hair on Brad’s GQ-cover-head would think to lie out of
place, or a wrinkle would dare crease his tux.

So, why did her salad have more appeal
at the moment?

She shouldn’t have skipped lunch, she
thought as she forked a delicate bite of Romaine lettuce into her
mouth.

“
Time got away from me at
the hospital, and I couldn’t pick you up. I didn’t know it was
raining so hard when I called. Glad you’re finally here.” Brad
picked up the salad dressing, poured it on her salad, his own, and
handed it to the man on his right.

“
Looks like some of that
rain got you,” the man said as he took the salad dressing from
Brad. She recognized him as the head of radiology. The nurses
called him x-ray eyes because he always looked as if he were trying
to see through their clothes.

“
Just a bit,” Nan
managed to say past the lettuce lodged in her throat. Brad hadn't
even
asked
her if she wanted
salad dressing. She grabbed her water goblet.

“
So, Ms. Milner, Brad says
you work for us in the Labor and Delivery Department.” Nan
recognized Talbert Townsend, the hospital’s Chairman of the Board
from the huge portrait of him hanging in the hospital
lobby.

“
Yes I do, Mr. Townsend.”
The man had her name wrong. Mentally scrambling on how to set him
straight, she smiled over the elegant bouquet of magnolias serving
as the table’s centerpiece—the crowning touch to the linen
tablecloth, crystal, and gold rimmed china.

Brad, busy with his salad, hadn’t
noticed the error, nor had he taken the time to introduce her to
everyone at the table.

“
I’m not sure we’ve been
properly introduced, Mr. Townsend. My name is Nancy Miller. But
please call me Nan.”

“
Miller? Like the
beer?”

Nan frowned. “Exactly.”

“
You say you’re related to
the brewing family? Met them in Europe a few years back.”
Townsend’s aged, Rip Van Winkle countenance brightened at the
prospect.

Nan stifled a groaned. The man needed
to up his hearing aide. “No, no relation.”

“
Really Talbert.” A woman
Nan assumed to be Townsend’s wife patted his hand. “Were she a
relation of the Miller’s, she wouldn’t be a nurse in Labor and
Delivery.”

Her tone indicated the position would
be well beneath anyone of financial prominence. Twenty years her
husband’s junior, she looked like an overblown Marilyn Monroe who’d
stuffed her ample dimensions into a skintight sequined dress. She
wore so many large diamonds that it was a wonder the weight of them
hadn’t snatched her nose out of the air.

“
Well, whatever her
relations, she does work for us.” Townsend narrowed his brow in
irritation at his wife then leveled his look back at Nan. “Tell me
how you like working for Memorial Hospital, dear?”

The benevolent smile Townsend settled
on his thin lips clearly indicated he expected her to sing praises
of her wonderful employment experience at Memorial Medical Center.
Trouble was she couldn’t. The entire purpose of the Nurses Trouble
Shooting Committee was to address the issues of under-staffing,
heavy patient workloads, and problems with antiquated procedures.
But none of those topics were appropriate dinner conversation. Nan
cleared her throat. “I’ve found employment with Memorial very
educational and worthwhile. Being on the Trouble Shooting
Committee, I’m—”

“
Nan loves it.” Brad cut
in. “She’s dedicated to her job. Did I tell you about my research
with Dr. Von Heller in Europe, Mr. Townsend?”

“
No. I’d like to hear
about it, boy.” Townsend said.

Nan blinked. She’d been about to tell
Townsend that she looked forward to the special Trouble Shooting
Committee meeting the board would be attending next month. Her
words stuck on the lump of surprise in her throat. What was wrong
with Brad? He’d deliberately cut her off.

“
Had the unique
opportunity to study with Von Heller on the feasibility of
expanding neurosurgical procedures beyond the peripheral to the
spinal,” Brad said.

Nan stepped on his toe with her heel.
He looked at her in surprise. She smiled. “I seemed to have dropped
my napkin. Can you reach it?”

“
Of course.” He slid his
chair back and leaned down to retrieve the napkin she’d thrown on
the floor.

“
It’s over there.” Nan
leaned down as well. “What do you think you’re doing, cutting me
off in mid sentence,” she whispered.

“
Trying to help. I heard
today that you were heading up the meeting next month about the
hospital’s staffing problems,” he whispered back. He cut his gaze
back and forth from her to the tabletop. “Bringing up the issue now
will only damage your cause.”