A shaft of pride went through Brad’s chest. This family had opened its arms to him long ago. He now knew they’d be open whenever he needed them.
“What is this?” Chloe asked, glancing up at him.
“I kind of spilled the beans about what I was going to do tonight. I’d have been in big trouble if you’d said no.”
She looked at the glittering diamond he’d placed on her third finger. He’d forced himself to wait until her divorce was almost final before asking her to start a whole new life.
With him.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “No chance of my saying no.”
Chloe’s mother came over and kissed her daughter’s cheek, whispering something that made her smile. Jan then stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek as well. “Chloe’s a very lucky woman.”
“I’m the lucky one, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Chloe burrowed closer with a sigh. He could hardly believe this smart, passionate woman had agreed to be his wife.
Ben clapped him on the back and held out his hand. “Welcome home, son.”
A mist rose in front of Brad’s eyes, and he blinked a time or two before shaking the elder Jenkins’s hand. “I appreciate that, sir.”
Brad’s real father was still holding his own, his illness seeming to be the wake-up call he’d needed to continue working on his relationship with his son. There was still a way to go. His mother was another story, but Chloe’s sweet spirit was making inroads there as well, surprisingly.
“Come on, people. This is supposed to be an engagement party.” Jason plucked a strawberry from a platter of sliced fruit and dipped it into a fluffy white concoction. “Besides, you guys are over an hour late and I’m starving. Dad has ribs outside on the grill.” He popped the fruit in his mouth and then picked up another piece.
Chloe’s cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink, and Brad knew she was thinking about exactly why they’d been late. She mouthed, “I love you.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, catching sight of the gold key she wore on a slender chain around her neck—the same one he’d placed in her palm all those weeks ago. He picked it up and fingered it, his eyes meeting hers as a silent promise passed between them. A reminder that love was strong enough to unlock any door, as long as they did it together.
* * * * *
NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet
Wendy S. Marcus
Breaking all her rules…
Head nurse Scarlet Miller’s take-no-prisoners attitude makes her a force to be reckoned with on the neonatal ward, but no one has ever questioned her devotion to her patients. She thought her hidden vulnerability was impenetrable…but E.R. doc and struggling single dad Lewis Jackson ties her heart up in knots! Suddenly this tough-cookie nurse is wondering if Lewis and his troubled daughter might actually be her undoing….
This book is dedicated to men and women around the world who have found room in their hearts to love and nurture someone else’s child, and in the process, make them their own – like my parents did.
With special thanks: To my wonderfully supportive editor, Flo Nicoll. I don’t know how I’d make it from the beginning to The End without your guidance and encouragement. You are an absolute gem!
And to my loving family for making me food, for making me laugh, and for making me proud. And in case you’re wondering, yes, my husband does read my books!
SCARLET MILLER, head nurse of the NICU—Neonatal Intensive Care Unit—at Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital, lovingly referred to as Angel’s by the staff, walked onto the brand new, now fully functioning unit she’d played a key role in designing and creating, feeling more at home than she did anywhere else. Feeling proud of all she and her wonderful colleagues had accomplished, during her four years as a manager—national recognition for providing the highest level of care available for sick and premature newborns with one of the lowest mortality rates in the U.S. A high tech yet caring, state of the art yet warm and welcoming sixty-two bed unit that the residents of New York City and its surrounding areas kept at or near full capacity on a regular basis.
“Looks like someone finally had herself a hot weekend,” Linda, one of her older nurses said, walking up beside her. At least she wasn’t complaining about the switch from the open floor plan of their old setup to the mostly private rooms of their new wing.
“If by someone you’re referring to me.” Scarlet stopped at the nurses’ station, took the pink message slips held up by one of the unit secretaries and gave the young woman a smile of thanks before turning back to Linda. “And if by hot you’re referring to my oppressive, sweat-drenched, Saturday night of misery, the hottest eleventh day of May ever recorded in Weehawken, New Jersey, during which I spent more than sixteen hours without power ergo without air conditioning, then yes. I did indeed have a hot weekend.”
“Uh oh.” Linda glanced toward a huge vase filled with at least two dozen long-stemmed red roses and accenting ferns perched on the counter to their left.
“Uh oh what?” Scarlet asked.
“I told you we shouldn’t do it,” Ashley, the young secretary said, shaking her head.
Scarlet looked at her. “Do what?”
Cindy, one of her newest nurses, who’d been observing patient monitors and video feeds as part of her orientation, looked up over the counter and pointed to a rectangular golden box of chocolates, the cover askew.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Scarlet didn’t have time to play around, she needed to get back to work after a morning of meetings and greet the family of their newest micro-preemie, baby girl Gupta, born at twenty-six weeks, one pound, thirteen ounces, thirteen inches long, who’d arrived during her absence.
“We thought they were yours,” Cindy said.
“What—?”
“The flowers. And the chocolates,” she clarified.
“Why...” would they think someone had sent her red roses, the floral symbol of love and passion, typically given by men to their wives, girlfriends, and lovers, when she practically lived at the hospital, and hadn’t had a man in her life since... Hmmm. Since...
She gave up rather than belabor the pitiful fact it’d been so long she’d require a quick browse of her calendar, from last year, or Lord help her, maybe the year before, to spark her memory. Not that she’d humiliate herself by actually looking. But in her defense, no woman could have achieved the level of success she’d managed—which benefited the hospital, its tiniest patients and their families as much as it did her—without putting in long hours on the job.
“Because the card that accompanied them is made out to you.” Linda pointed to the mini mint green envelope sticking out of the beautiful, fragrant, partially opened blooms which did in fact have her name on it. Spelled with one t unlike the famous Scarlett she’d been named after—only her mother hadn’t taken the time to get the spelling right.
Scarlet plucked the card from its plastic holder and opened it.
Dear Scarlet,
I realize you never told me your last name. I hope these get to you. Saturday night was better than I’d ever imagined a night with a woman could be.
Right there Scarlet