“Yes, sir.” Rosalyn grinned at him, and then winked at Carly. Chuckling, she took off toward where the blanket warmer was located. “Just you remember what I said, Carly Evans,” she called without turning around. “It would do you some good to think about that.”
Carly was pretty sure her cheeks were as red as her scrubs. Maybe more so as her scrubs were a little faded from too many washings.
When Rosalyn was out of earshot, Stone turned back to Carly. One side of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I didn’t intentionally listen in, but will admit that I’m intrigued by what I heard. You mind explaining?”
She minded. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know I want to hear more.”
Being careful not to spill Room 204’s medication from the cup, Carly put her hands on her hips. “Which tells me nothing.”
“How much could I have overheard?” His eyes twinkled.
Good grief, he’d heard everything. Was the fact that he was standing behind Carly why Rosalyn had mentioned him in the first place?
“Not a lot.” Carly decided to go for nonchalant. Nonchalant was good and meant she didn’t care what he’d overheard. He didn’t know her private thoughts, nor would he ever. “Rosalyn had a theory about you. I told her that her theory was pointless as I wasn’t interested in anything beyond friendship.”
“Which is where I asked why you weren’t interested.” His lips twitched, his eyes sparkled, and he was enjoying that he’d caught her having a conversation about him.
“Yes,” she said for lack of knowing what else to say, a little flustered by the fact Stone didn’t mind that Rosalyn had said he had the hots for Carly. Which meant what?
That he did have the hots for her?
He’d flirted, but he was such a good-natured person, talking with everyone, so she’d consoled herself that her talking back was harmless, that nothing would come of their shared conversations. He wouldn’t really be interested in her outside of having a little fun at the hospital.
He was a gorgeous doctor. She was just her. An overworked, over-stressed, financially stretched nurse doing all she could to provide care for her seriously ill mother.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out, his intent gaze warning she’d been fooling herself on thinking their conversations didn’t mean anything.
Her pulse drummed rapidly at her temple.
“I wasn’t having a discussion with you,” she reminded him, knowing she had to get her thoughts, her reaction to him, under control. Better to stay in denial than to acknowledge what she couldn’t have, what she couldn’t let herself have. “You weren’t a part of the conversation you interrupted.”
She wanted to be irritated with him, but how could anyone be upset with him when he had such an all-encompassing smile on his face? A smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, dug dimples into his cheeks, and made his eyes sparkle?
Good grief. The man was incorrigible. And so gorgeous. And so out of her reach. Still, the way he made her feel was addictive, like a magic spell that gave everything a shiny glow.
A shiny glow she’d like to bask in, but life had other plans for her. Plans that didn’t include time for a dalliance with the most intriguing man she’d ever met.
She arched a brow and shook her head. “Some would say eavesdropping was rude, you know?”
His left dimple dug a little deeper. “I’m part of the conversation now.”
She rolled her eyes upward. “Not by my choice.”
He laughed. “You saying I’m holding you here against your will?”
Carly shrugged. “Obviously not. If you’ll excuse me?” She went to push past him.
“I won’t.”
Eyes wide, Carly stopped, met his for once serious gaze. “Pardon?”
“I won’t excuse you,” he clarified. “Not this time. Eavesdropping was rude. You’re right. But since I was the topic of conversation, surely I’m forgiven for jumping in?”
Her insides shook so that she still might end up spilling those meds she held yet. “There’s no rule that says I have to forgive you for butting into my conversation.”
“Even when the conversation is about me?”
“Especially when the conversation is about you.”
He chuckled. “You should have dinner with me tonight and let me convince you to forgive my so-called rudeness. Plus, we can discuss why my having the hots for you doesn’t matter because it matters a great deal to me.”
Guilt hit Carly. This was her fault. She should have put a stop to whatever sparks Rosalyn said were flying between them but she’d not dared to believe he was really interested in her.
Sure, he’d gone out of his way to start conversations, asking her things he could have asked any hospital employee. He’d sat back in the break room with her a few times while she’d quickly swallowed down whatever she’d packed from home.
His sitting with her while she ate should have made her horribly uncomfortable, but instead she’d found herself regretting how quickly her short lunch break had slipped by while they’d talked. He’d asked about her favorite parts of Memphis and, drawing upon her childhood and college memories, she’d told him. No need to tell him that for five years she’d not been to any of those places. Surely, they hadn’t changed that much in such a short time?
Then again, she’d changed that much.
Aged a hundred years, at least.
But for all that, she’d thought their interactions innocent. She’d figured Stone had svelte, glamorous women lined up in droves out there in the real world. Talking with Carly was just a fun way to pass time when he was at work.
Had she really believed that?
Or had she refused to believe anything else because she enjoyed his attention and hadn’t wanted to give it up?
She didn’t lead on men when she had no intentions of following through. So if he was interested then, yeah, she had to put a halt to it right now.
Carly’s throat tightened as she said, “Our discussing that would be an utter waste of both of our time.”
“I’ve time to spare.”
“That makes one of us.” She seriously doubted he had much time to spare, either.
His dark brow arched. “You’re too busy to go to dinner with me tonight?”
“Absolutely.” She took off toward her patient’s room, but he stayed in step beside her.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Busy.”
Her answer seemed to waylay him for a few seconds, but then, still beside her, he asked, “Surely you make time to eat, Carly? I’ll take you to the restaurant of your choice and promise to have you home at a decent hour.” He waggled his brows and gave another crooked smile. “Unless you want me to keep you out past bedtime, that is.”
Oh, my. Not going to happen... But, oh, my, oh, my, oh, my.
She ate in quick snatches after getting home, usually soup or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while Joyce filled her in on the day’s events.
Carly liked uneventful days.
Days in which her mother didn’t have any angry outbursts or falls or screams of pain or significant declines in her failing health. It had been so long since Carly had eaten out at a restaurant that she didn’t have a favorite. Money was tight. Eating out was expensive.