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“Um . . . about your mystery guy.”
“What about him?”
“Looks like he might be interested after all.” She smirks and nods toward the parking lot.
I follow her gaze, and the corners of my mouth twitch in an involuntary smile. Fifteen yards from us, the jacket guy is leaning against the hood of a big silver car, his arms crossed in front of him.
“Holy fuck. Is that a Bentley?” Pippa whispers in my ear as she nudges me with her shoulder. “Go over now. Make him marry you. You’ll never have to work again.” She giggles.
I snort. What she’s suggesting is the exact thing I’ve been trying my damnedest to avoid. “See you tomorrow.”
The jacket guy watches me as I walk toward him, and I find myself wishing I was wearing something a little more flattering than hospital scrubs. The midday light brings out the gray in his hair, and once again, I’m amazed at how attractive he is. Today, he’s wearing a simple gray shirt with nothing over it. His stance emphasizes his wide shoulders and bulging biceps. He’s built like a professional swimmer—toned muscle, with a narrow waist and broad chest. I reach his direct orbit and smile.
“Well, hello again, stranger. If you are still a stranger,” I say. “Just passing by?”
“Kind of.” He straightens and puts his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me.”
“I don’t usually go to lunch with men whose names I don’t know, Kurt.”
I expect him to smile at that, but instead he just returns my gaze. “Coffee?”
I wonder why he doesn’t want to share his name. I mean, he could have given me a fake name from the start. It’s not like I’d ask for his ID to confirm. Maybe he thinks I’ll find him more alluring this way? If that’s the case, he’s not entirely wrong.
“Coffee might be doable.” I shrug and motion toward the small place nearby where most of the hospital staff, including me, are at least semi-regular visitors. “There’s a café across the street.”
He nods and follows me in silence as we cross the road. We pick one of the tables on the patio, covered with a garish red and white gingham tablecloth. The jacket guy pulls a chair out for me and takes a seat at my side.
“So, are you stalking me, Kurt?”
“No,” he says. “I had some business in the neighborhood and saw you leaving the hospital as I was getting into my car.”
“What a coincidence.”
The daughter of the café owner comes to take our orders. A cappuccino for me and a double espresso, no sugar, for him. I’ve always wondered how people can drink coffee without sugar.
“How’s life treating you, Goldie?”
There is something unusual in the way he watches me, waiting for an answer. As if he genuinely wants to know and isn’t just asking for the sake of making conversation. It may sound stupid since I’ve only truly exchanged a handful of words with him, but I have the impression he rarely gives his undivided attention to anyone.
“Pretty much the same,” I say. “People getting stabbed. Overdoses. A bunch of broken bones. One poisoning.”
“Poisoning?”
“Jealous wife. The husband was cheating.” I grin. “She wasn’t happy at all.”
“Did he live?”
“Yup. We pumped his stomach when he came in.”
“What did she use?”
“Some cocktail of kitchen chemicals.” I raise an eyebrow. “You?”
“No poisonings here. Just meetings and a ton of emails.”
I squint my eyes at him. Even though he looks like a businessman, with his expensive clothes and a watch that likely costs more than a year’s worth of my rent, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be dealing with paperwork. He holds himself in a certain way, even now when he’s seemingly relaxed, and it makes me certain he’s not an ordinary manager.
“You didn’t just happen to be in the neighborhood, did you, Kurt?” I pick up the coffee the waitress has placed in front of me and take a sip.
