“Yes. She’d been sedated, but the nurses saw it happening on telemetry. I was on the floor when they called for the crash cart, so I stepped in. I think the nurses were relieved I was there to call it. Everyone could see this was the end.”
“Of course. I’m glad she wasn’t awake and aware.” Modern medicine had its limits. The patient had already survived two heart attacks. Given her age and health, the odds of Irene surviving a third were practically nonexistent, but the hospital’s floor staff didn’t have the legal authority to declare a patient dead. They had to keep attempting to resuscitate a hopeless case until a physician could make the call. Since Quinn’s new partner, Brian, had been present, everyone—including Irene’s fragile, expired body—had been spared significant stress.
The orchestra finished its song, and the crowd applauded. Quinn hunched his shoulders to block out the sound as Brian told him the family had taken the news well. “They specifically asked me to thank you for taking care of their grandma.”
Taking care of her. What had he done? He’d placed some stents in her arteries after the first heart attack. That had bought the octogenarian a few more years, until a second heart attack had brought her to West Central this morning, where Quinn had admitted her for an overnight stay in the critical care unit.
During those few years, she’d been a regular patient at the office as Quinn monitored the medicines he’d prescribed. She’d left his staff smiling after each appointment, because she called their boss “sonny boy” and she told all the women how beautiful and young they were. She’d never failed to ask Quinn how his mother fared.
He passed a hand over his eyes briefly. He’d have to call his mother tomorrow and break the news that her beloved fourth-grade teacher had passed away.
Brian’s voice was clear as the orchestra struck up another song. “I’m sorry to bother you on your weekend off, but I thought you’d want to know about Irene.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you were there, Brian.”
“Me, too. I’ll see you Monday.”
Quinn disconnected the call, slid the cell phone back into his pocket and waited. The feeling of being punched would pass. It always did.
The human body cannot last indefinitely. This was a fact. It would always be a fact, no matter what cures were discovered and which diseases were eradicated.
Death is part of any medical practice. His earliest mentors had impressed that upon him. He’d chosen this profession knowing he would see death, up close and personal.
The patient died, but I did not fail to do my best. That was an important one. Quinn knew he’d done everything right. Everything was sometimes not enough. After all, the human body could not last indefinitely.
The loop of logical statements ran through his mind again, as they always did when he lost a patient, as they always did until his mind muted his emotions.
Quinn reached up to rub the back of his neck. This punch had been powerful, because Irene had been a special patient. The hurt wasn’t subsiding at its usual pace. He focused on his surroundings, and realized he was staring at the potted palm trees Diana had hidden behind.
Diana. Quinn pictured her green dress and her shapely legs. For once, it was good to be able to recall the details: the way she’d bounced on toes that were polished in red and peeking through silver sandal straps. Impractical. Feminine. Sexy.
Diana—lively, lovely Diana. Quinn wanted to be with her. He wanted to hold her.
“Damn it, we were supposed to dance.” He said the words under his breath as he turned back to the room, angry at himself for letting anything dissuade him from his earlier goal of dancing with Diana. With an intensity he could feel over and above the punch of losing a patient, Quinn wanted his hands on Diana. He wanted to feel that fringe in his fingers. He wanted to know the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin. He wanted that dance.
He looked toward the table where he’d left her standing with Patricia and the director of Texas Rescue. Only the champagne bottle remained.
She was gone. Again.
Chapter Four
Diana had barely reached the doors to the mezzanine when she ran into Dr. Lana MacDowell, the woman Quinn had been studying so longingly when Diana had first spotted him. Lana looked simply smashing in her evening gown, glowing like the bride she was as she walked next to Braden MacDowell.
Poor Quinn.
Diana held out her hand, ready to shake Lana’s like a proper business associate, but Lana kissed her on the cheek and, to Diana’s surprise, the always businesslike Braden did, too. They’d barely gotten past their hellos when a gentleman asked Lana to dance. Braden turned to Diana, and for the first time that night, she found herself on the dance floor, partnered by a handsome man in a tuxedo.
It was lovely. Diana enjoyed it for what it was. Lovely—but not romantic. Even if Braden had been single, Diana would not have felt a spark with him. They were simply not a match.
She didn’t recognize the song the band was playing. She wondered how Braden and Quinn were related—and she worried how Braden would feel if he knew Quinn was in love with his wife. She worried that Quinn would never get over his unrequited feelings for Lana. She worried—
“Are you having a good time tonight?” Braden asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Braden looked at her more closely. “Is anything wrong? That was the most lukewarm thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Diana felt herself blush a bit. This whole gala was to benefit the hospital that Braden’s father had founded, the hospital he now ran as CEO. She’d gone and made him worry that she didn’t like the evening.
She tried harder. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing could be wrong tonight. Your gala is absolutely beautiful, down to the last detail.”
“Thank you, but I can’t take credit for planning any of this. I only approved the final proposal.” Braden smiled faintly at her praise, but he was still studying her too closely.
Diana seized on the subject of party planning and kept up a bright stream of chatter. She didn’t doubt that she was rambling a bit, but people didn’t mind in general, as long as she was friendly and undemanding.
The song ended, and they rejoined Lana just as Quinn walked up to their little group. Diana’s bright chatter petered out. She couldn’t talk around the lump in her throat as Quinn greeted Lana with a kiss on the cheek. When Quinn and Braden stood side by side, Diana knew they had to be brothers.
Oh, God, poor Quinn—in love with his brother’s wife. It made for dramatic movies, but in real life, she could hardly imagine a worse situation.
Braden introduced her to Quinn.
“Brothers?” Diana confirmed, then cleared her throat a little. “The green eyes threw me off. I should have seen the resemblance earlier.”
“Earlier? You two have already met?” Lana squeezed Quinn’s arm. “Diana’s more than a real estate agent. She’s a magician.”
“She’s already tried to perform a little magic with me tonight,” Quinn said with mock severity. “Brace yourself. I’ve been dancing.”
“No!” Lana laughed.
Quinn winked at Diana.
Two things hit Diana in rapid succession.
One, Quinn was not in love with Lana. It was evident in his body language, in his tone of voice, in his relaxed manner. Nope, not in love, not the least little bit.
Two, Diana was overwhelmingly relieved. Absurdly so. She wanted to laugh, to float, to hug everyone.
Quinn didn’t need time to nurse a broken heart. He didn’t need a transition