Page 22 of Virtue


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It doesn’t hurt to look, though, so I stare at her.

Her hip is cocked in a way that speaks of the sensuality I’m not sure she knows she possesses. Two male staff members who have passed her and taken a second look get the appeal.

Eloise is effortlessly beautiful.

From this vantage point, a few feet behind her, I’m getting the bonus of not only a clear view of her ass in a pair of faded jeans, but her hair piled up on her head in a messy bun.

“Dr. Morgan?”

The feminine voice behind me lures Eloise’s gaze over her shoulder. Her eyes lock with mine briefly before a nurse steps directly in front of me.

Her green eyes give me the once-over. She’s new, and not especially skilled in compassionate care or attention to detail.

I’ve had to scold her twice in the last hour when I was down in the emergency department for a cardiac consult.

I caught her berating a patient. She took it upon herself to comment on what she perceived as his bad attitude. He lost his wife mere weeks ago amid his own health battle. He’s on the transplant list for a new heart, but that window is closing quickly.

Add to that, she was confused when I barked out a list of the tests I required in order to offer him the care he deserves, and more importantly, needs today. I had to repeat the list twice.

“What is it?”

I don’t bother adding her name to the end of the question because I don’t care enough to remember it, and I refuse to glance at her ID badge because she’s pinned it to her scrubs so it bounces off her left tit with each step she takes.

Her gaze skips over my face, stopping to stare into my eyes. “I have those test results you wanted, Gaines.”

That perks my brow. “It’s Dr. Morgan.”

“Right?” She smirks. “Dr. Morgan.”

I tilt my hand up to show her the tablet in it. “I’ve already looked those over. You’re needed in the emergency department.”

“I thought you might need me.” She adds to that by trailing a finger over my forearm.

I jerk it out of her reach immediately.

It’s not the first time I’ve been hit on at work, but I’ve never mixed business with pleasure, and beyond that, I’m not the least bit interested in what she’s offering.

“Go back to the ED,” I order, adding what I should have said to her an hour ago, “I’m about to write you up.”

Her entire demeanor shifts in an instant. “I’m sorry, Dr. Morgan. I’m headed there now.”

“Good.” My tone is clipped, firm, and I imagine threatening enough that she’ll focus on the job from here on out.

“Will you be back down to check on Mr. Vachell before you go back to your office?” She follows that up quickly with a reasonable excuse for that query, “I’m only asking because Dr. Whitman was wondering. He stopped in to see Mr. Vachell when you left to comeup here.”

Up here is to check on Daxton’s progress. He’s on the cusp of being discharged.

“I’ll speak to Dr. Whitman myself.” I jerk my chin up. “Back to the ED now.”

Her eyes flare when she hears the bite in my tone. “Yes, sir.”

Hearing that from her does nothing for me, but when she scurries away I get another glimpse of the woman whose voice still echoes through my mind when she called mesirrepeatedly that night.

I stalk toward Eloise but before I can reach her, Saylor comes racing out of Daxton’s room. She hops up and down with what looks like a stuffed puppy in her hand.

Mrs. Robinson appears not more than a second later. Her gaze catches on mine immediately. I see the surprise in her eyes.

“Dr. Morgan?” She half-laughs. The weariness that was ever present in her voice and expression is gone now.

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