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Praise for Wendy S. Marcus:
‘Readers are bound to feel empathy
for both the hero and heroine. Each has a uniquely disastrous past, and these complications help to make the moment when Jared and Allison are able to give their hearts to the other all the more touching.’ —RT Book Reviews on WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH, (4 stars)
Dear Reader
This is the third and final (at least for now) book in my Madrin Memorial Hospital series: Roxie’s story. If you’re unfamiliar with the first two books, please check out Book One, Allison’s story, WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH, and Book Two, Victoria’s story, ONCE A GOOD GIRL …
For me, a story builds from a few random ideas—usually jotted down on napkins, receipts, and/or scraps of paper that clutter my pocketbook and desk. After I come up with a few key scenes, and figure out the basics of what I want to happen in the beginning, middle and end, I start to flesh out my characters.
This is my favourite part of the writing process. Beyond their physical characteristics, I delve into their pasts. I create their personalities and mannerisms, their goals and motivations. And the more time I spend with them, the more real they become—to the point where they often take on a life of their own, sending my story in a direction different from the one I’d originally intended.
All three women in this series had difficult childhoods, and had to overcome many obstacles on their way to becoming strong, self-sufficient, professional young nurses. I’m happy to have helped each of them find their happily-ever-after.
As I put the final touches on Roxie’s story I realised how much I’m going to miss spending my days (and nights) with my friends at Madrin Memorial Hospital. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Allison, Victoria and Roxie’s stories as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.
I love to hear from readers. Please visit me at www.WendySMarcus.com
Wishing you all good things.
Wendy S. Marcus
The Nurse’s
Not-So-Secret Scandal
Wendy S. Marcus
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to my dear neighbors,
Grisel DeLoe and D. David Dick, two of my biggest supporters, and a heck of a lot of fun to celebrate with. (Although after my 4 star RT Book Reviews celebration I had some trouble getting started the next day!) I love you both. And if you try to sell your house I may have to resort to vandalism. You have been warned!
With special thanks to:
Grisel and her sister, Ivette Vazquez,
who answered my last-minute cries for help with some Spanish translations. Your e-mails made me laugh out loud. Even at three in the morning. You are one hysterical woman. Any mistakes are my own.
My editor, Flo Nicoll, who encourages me,
puts up with me and always pushes me to do my best. I am so lucky to have you.
My wonderful friends, old and new, who have
purchased my books, written reviews, and/or attended my book signings. You know who you are.
And to my husband and children for loving me,
cooking for me and making me laugh. (And for not saying one negative word when I spent a weekend in my pajamas and didn’t shower for almost three whole days while under deadline to finish this book.)
CHAPTER ONE
“IT’S not Roxie,” 5E head nurse Victoria Forley insisted. The tiny brunette slammed the file in her hand onto her old metal desk. “She’s one of my best nurses, and a dear friend. I trust her implicitly. This is absolutely ridiculous.”
“Calm down, honey,” her fiancé, Dr. Kyle Karlinsky, said as he wrapped his large arm around her narrow shoulders. “We’ll figure it out.”
Ryan “Fig” Figelstein leaned against the door frame of Victoria’s fifth-floor office, watching the cozy scene. An observer. An outsider in his best friend’s new life.
Kyle shot over the look that more often than not got Fig into some kind of trouble and added, “And Fig will help us.”
“Ooohhh, no.” Fig held up both hands. “Come see where I work, you said, just for a few minutes.” Kyle knew how much Fig hated hospitals. The smells. The sounds. The isolation and deprivation. He staved off a shudder.
“You okay?” Kyle asked, studying him, able to read Fig better than anyone.
“Yeah.” Fig pushed off the door frame and took a step into the tiny office. “So what’s your idea?” he asked to get the focus off of him.
“You’re here another week, right?” Kyle asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“It’s perfect.” Kyle rubbed his hands together.
Perfect would be them leaving the hospital. Now. Perfect would be an end to his mother’s constant telephone calls and ploys for his attention. Perfect would be some sense of normalcy in a life that was feeling increasingly out of his control.
“You hire on here. As the unit clerk.”
“Are you …?”
Before he could get out the word crazy Kyle added, “Just hear me out.” His voice took on that placating tone he used every time he set out to convince Fig to do something he didn’t want to do. Kyle removed his arm from Victoria and set his full attention on Fig. “You answer the phone, respond to the call bells, direct visitors.”
“It takes more than that…” Victoria started.
“And he watches Roxie and the narcotic cabinet,” Kyle added to silence her. “Each time she or someone else accesses it he’ll call you.”
“You’re brilliant,” Victoria said to Kyle with a big grin. Then she turned to Fig. “You have to take the job,” she pleaded. “Each day I have a different temp circulating through. I need a person I can trust to keep an eye on Roxie. Something’s going on. She’s been forgetful and distracted. She doesn’t have her normal spunk.”
Signs of drug abuse. Fig glanced at Kyle.
Victoria caught him. “She’s not on drugs. Please,” she said, looking up at Fig in that way women do when they have no intention of accepting no for an answer.
“I work with computers.” And he was damn good at it. In demand even. “I have a job.”
“But you can work anywhere,” Kyle pointed out, oh, so helpfully.
“I’m not a big fan of sick people,” he admitted. Some deep-seated fears were not easy to get past. “And I know nothing about being a unit clerk in a hospital.” Frankly, the thought of spending twelve captive hours in one left him cold and clammy.
“You’re not expected to have any physical contact with the patients. And I’ll train you myself,” Victoria said. “I’ll help out as much as I can and I’ll tell my nurses to pitch in, too. The narcotic cabinet is in a locked room right behind the desk where you’ll be sitting. All you need to do is report any suspicious behavior and I’ll check the Demerol count.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Fig said. “If you’re so certain Roxie had nothing to do with the missing drugs, why don’t you tell her what’s up and ask her if she knows anything?” Fig preferred the straightforward approach, hated when people danced around an issue.
“Normally