It's Only You

“Thank you, I will. Believe me, if I see one of them so much as tug on Thomas’s arm, they’re going to be the ones in the emergency room.” She shook her head. “I’ve told them over and over to quit swinging him around. Wait until I get home,” she fussed. She cradled Thomas against her shoulder and stroked his back lovingly while avoiding his injured side.

After leaving the woman with the discharge clerk, Simona headed back to the nurses’ station, still seething. Doctor Lionel Harris had been coming on to her since she had started working at the hospital, taking every opportunity to make suggestive comments. He had even gone so far as to lure her into an empty treatment room under the guise of needing assistance with a patient.

At thirty-six, he had been featured on the covers of several magazines and was a sought-after lecturer for his knowledge of emergency medicine. Combined with his charm and good looks, he’d be the perfect guy for some woman—just not her. But for some reason, he couldn’t take no for an answer.

Simona had relocated to Los Angeles from Oakland a year ago to escape the drama that had become her life, and she had no desire to hook up with someone as famous as Dr. Harris and have her relationship play out for all to see. And that would be exactly what would happen if she—a nurse—started dating one of the most attractive doctors on staff. Had it not been for her grandmother, she might have moved clear across the country after breaking up with her ex. LA was close enough to Nana, but big enough to get lost in. Now she only wanted to do her job and go home—no drama and no men.

“Hey, Simona. What are you doing here? I thought you were off at seven.”

“Hey, Phyllis. I was supposed to be, but Annette called in sick and Dr. Cortez asked if I’d cover the first four hours. Betty is covering the rest of the shift. Then I’m off until Tuesday morning.”

Phyllis nodded. “Lucky you. One hour to go. Right before all the heavy weekend drama starts.”

The weekends were always busy in the emergency room—more parties and drinking often translated to more fights and accidents. Simona was glad to be off.

Another nurse rushed over to them and clutched Simona’s arm. “Oh, my God!” she whispered excitedly. “You’re never going to guess who’s here in the hospital.”

“Who?” Phyllis asked.

“Monte. I think his wife is having a baby. He is sooo fine, and his music...” She sighed dreamily.

Simona stared at the young nurse, whose name she couldn’t remember, and shook her head. She’d heard of the popular R & B singer and producer, and owned a few of his CDs, but had no idea he had a wife or that she was expecting a baby.

“We should go up and see if we can get his autograph. I have all his CDs.”

Simona glanced down at the woman’s badge. “No, we shouldn’t, Alyssa,” she said firmly. “What we should do is allow the man to have some privacy. This is a hospital, not a concert venue. How about displaying a little professionalism?” People not respecting other’s privacy topped the list of Simona’s pet peeves.

Alyssa had the decency to look embarrassed...for about five seconds. “It’s just a little autograph. Geez, lighten up.”

Simona was poised to give Alyssa a blistering retort, but the sound of sirens interrupted whatever she had planned to say. She and Phyllis shared a look and rushed off with Alyssa trailing them.

* * *

Donovan Wright pushed through the hospital doors and went to the front desk. “Can you tell me what floor maternity is on?”

“Fourth,” the older woman behind the desk answered with a smile. “Is this your first?”

His heart clenched. “It’s not mine. I’m here for a friend.”

“Oh. I just thought...well, a handsome guy like you should have no problem finding a wife.”

He smiled, thanked her, then sauntered off toward the elevators, his loafers echoing loudly on the highly polished floors.

As he waited for the elevator, he pondered the woman’s statement. No problem finding a wife? Yeah. Right. Donovan stepped in when the doors opened, pushed the button for the fourth floor and leaned his head back against the wall.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled deeply. He was exhausted. With Terrence out of the office for the past week, Donovan had been working sixteen-hour days at the record company just to keep up. As the executive vice president of RC Productions he oversaw most of the departments and had managed the music career of Terrence—who used the stage name Monte—for the past decade, along with one other group at the record label.