she nodded toward the reception room. “The anaconda at the front desk.”
“We’re shorthanded. Clarice’s my backup nurse—and the only one manning the front desk. I can’t spare her, either.”
Dave always did make things more complicated than they were, she recalled. Resigned, she dug into her purse yet a third time. “In that case, take this.”
Though he would have preferred not to admit it, Dave stared in fascination as the woman from his past pulled out what appeared to be an entire foot-long sandwich from her purse. It was cut into two equal halves.
What else did she have in there?
“Is that your equivalent to a clown car?” he asked. “Do you just put your hand in, then pluck an endless amount of things out?”
She didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of what he might call wit. She had traffic to face and a game with her name on it waiting to be further deconstructed. Holding it out to him, she asked, “You want this roast beef sandwich or not?”
He’d always thought of her as being rather unusual, but he had a feeling she wasn’t given to arbitrarily carrying food in her purse. There was only one other explanation for it. “Isn’t that your lunch?”
“Well, if you take it, it becomes yours,” she pointed out with a trace of impatience. And then she sighed. “Look, it’s not like I can’t buy myself another one on my way back to the office. You, on the other hand, look like you haven’t a prayer of making it out the door without that gestapo agent throwing a net over you and stopping you before you take three steps.”
He felt honor bound to defend the woman working with him. “Clarice’s okay.”
“I’m sure. For a gargoyle,” Kara agreed. She raised the sandwich a little higher, into his line of vision. “You want this or not?”
She might be annoying, but that was no reason to deprive himself in order to show her he didn’t need her help. “I’ll take it.”
She placed the wax-paper-wrapped sandwich into his hand. “Very kind of you.” With that, she turned on her heel to leave.
“Kara?” he called after her.
Pausing, she looked expectantly at Dave over her shoulder. “Yes?”
He still really hadn’t thanked her—and found that it was difficult to form the words where she was involved. He settled for: “Tell your mom I said thanks.”
Amused, Kara inclined her head and said, “Sure.”
That, he knew, was a cop-out on his part. He was better than that, Dave reminded himself. Just because this was Kara shouldn’t mean that he reverted back to behaving like an adolescent. “And thanks for bringing it by.”
She gave him a quick two-finger salute. “I live to serve.”
Same old Kara, same old sarcastic remarks, he thought as he walked out behind her.
“You look good.”
The words had slipped out without his permission, going directly from his gut to his tongue without pausing to clear it with his brain. His brain would have definitely vetoed having the words said aloud.
Surprised, Kara stopped abruptly and turned around, causing a near collision between them. He immediately took a step back.
“Are you addressing that assessment to me in general or just to the back of me?” she asked, an amused smile on her lips.
She could still fluster him, Dave thought. He’d assumed that reaction was years behind him. After all, he’d graduated at the top of his class, been voted into all sorts of positions of honor and had, in general, become confident in not just his abilities but in himself, as well.
Five minutes around Kara and he turned into that gangly, tongue-tied geek whose physique was all but concave the last summer their families had vacationed together.
“Let me think about it,” he said evasively.
She nodded. “Thought so.”
As she walked out, Gary rose to his feet. “Thank you,” he called after her.
She spared the boy a wide smile. This made everything worthwhile. “My pleasure, Gary. All my pleasure.”
With that, she was gone.
But not, Dave thought as he turned away to see the patient in room one, forgotten.
Chapter Three
Kara barely had time to run to the sandwich shop to purchase another roast beef sandwich for herself and get back to her desk before her lunch hour was officially over. Just when she’d managed to finally catch her breath, the phone on her desk rang.
Picking it up, she cradled it against her neck and ear. She needed her hands free for the control pad. The newest version of the game still had the pesky Black Knight’s horse water surfing.
“Hello?” Kara said absently, guiding the horse and rider over the water to see just how far this glitch extended.
The voice on the other end of the line responded with a single word. “So?”
Kara came to attention as she recognized her mother’s voice. The Black Knight and his horse were temporarily forgotten.
“So?” she repeated, having no clue what her mother was asking or saying.
She heard her mother sigh on the other end of the line, then carefully enunciate her question. “Did you bring the game to Dave?”
The question irritated her. Why wouldn’t she take the game if she’d already told her mother that she would? “I said I would.” She picked up the control pad again. The horse resumed galloping erratically. “Yes, I brought the game to Dave.”
“And?”
Kara frowned. Just what was that supposed to mean? “And what?”
A note of frustration entered her mother’s voice. “How did he look?”
Damn, the horse just rode off the edge of the earth. This was not good. “Like a maniacal serial killer. What do you mean, how did he look? He looked like Dave. Only taller.” She paused for a moment, then added, “And handsomer.”
“Aha.”
“Aha?” Kara repeated, confused. Okay, just where was this conversation headed?
“Never mind,” her mother said quickly. “Sorry, I need to go.”
Her mother definitely had too much time on her hands. “What you need, Mom, is a hobby.” Other than me, she added silently. Kara paused to make a notation about the game on the pad she kept by the computer.
“Agreed. Maybe someday you’ll give me one,” she thought she heard her mother say. The next moment, the line went dead.
Kara looked thoughtfully at the receiver in her hand. Maybe someday you’ll give me one. Under ordinary circumstances the most logical “hobby” would be one involving playing on a gaming system. But she had a feeling that her mother was not referring to anything as run of the mill as a video game.
And then, just like that, that strange, unsettling feeling that the universe was tilting began to come into focus for her.
The “hobby” her mother was referring to was a grandchild. Her mother wanted a grandchild. And the only way to get one of those, according to her mother, was to get her married and pregnant.
The woman was actually trying to play matchmaker. Damn. Ordinarily, her radar was better than this. How had she missed it?
For the time being, the black stallion was on its own. His aquatic adventures were definitely the last thing on her mind now.
Kara looked at the framed photo on her