NYC Angels: The Wallflower's Secret

“Nothing.”

“You were thinking something. Tell.”

Her eyes slowly lifted. “I’ve never seen a man enjoy his food quite as much as you do.”

He grinned around the warm pizza at his lips. “I told you I was hungry and this is darned good pizza. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You want to share?” He raised the slice in his hand. Somehow the word share took on an intimate connotation when it included her. “Come on, you should at least try your landlord’s pie.”

“I guess I could stand a bite.”

He leaned over the table, holding the slice to her lips. She took a mouthful next to where he’d bitten. Somehow it made it far too familiar. As if their lips had touched. He was captivated by the change in her facial expression when it became one of ecstasy as she experienced the taste and texture of the morsel. His gaze remained glued to her lips when the tip of her tongue peeked out to caress the breadth of her full lips, seizing every particle of pleasure, leaving her pink mouth wet and glistening.

He shifted uncomfortably as his body reacted to the sight. Her utterly innocent look said she had no idea how incredibly erotic her actions were. Making her even more mesmerizing.

“Another?” He couldn’t have stopped himself from asking if he’d been offered a million dollars. He wanted her to repeat that sensual gesture. The downside was he wasn’t sure he could leave the restaurant without embarrassing himself, or, worse, her.

“It was good, but, no, thanks.”

Disappointed, he accepted her decision without pressing her to change her mind. With an effort he prevented his discomfort from showing. Based on her innocent appearance and just as enthralling was the fact she had no idea what she did to him.

He took another bite, hoping to clear his head, but it didn’t help. She really was an enigma. In her slacks and sweater, she looked at if she had never experienced much of life, but he knew better.

They were finishing their meal over a discussion of the latest movies when Lucy’s attention was drawn to something across the room. He turned to see what it was. A mother a few tables over was holding a baby of about six months old. What was it with her and babies? He still didn’t understand her reaction to going to the nursery. He would’ve thought she’d have jumped at the chance to meet a new family.

“Something wrong?”

She looked at him with glassy eyes. “I was just missing my family.”

He identified with missing loved ones. But those feelings could and should be managed. Dealing with a weepy woman was something he wasn’t going to do. “I’m going to call it an evening. I’ve—we’ve, got an early morning. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Go on. I’ll be fine. I need to speak to Mr. Volpentesta anyway. I’ll get the check.”

“That won’t happen. A gentleman pays the bill. It’s the O’Doherty way.”

Lucy climbed the stairs to her apartment. The place seemed less inviting after spending time with Ryan in the bustling restaurant. The solitude was stifling. She’d left everything that truly mattered in her life behind when she’d moved to New York. Maybe out of desperation she was hoping she and Ryan were becoming friends.

Their relationship had been rocky initially but they’d developed a mutual understanding in the last few days. He did what he needed to do and she tried not to get in his way. Up until today they’d shared nothing of their personal lives. Their work had forced them together but that hadn’t made them friends. Maybe that was changing.

She unlocked and entered her apartment. Flipping on a lamp, she pulled the curtains closed, something she often forgot to do, not yet being used to living so close to others. She began to undress.

She’d enjoyed her meal with Ryan. It had been nice to eat with someone for a change. While living with Alexis and Sam, they’d eaten the evening meal together every night. It hadn’t taken her long to miss that camaraderie, the feeling of being included.

Lucy had felt that same fellowship with Ryan tonight, but had he?

CHAPTER THREE

FRIDAY NIGHT, LUCY hadn’t been home thirty minutes when her phone rang. The deep voice on the other end spoke so swiftly she didn’t catch what he said. It sounded like Ryan but she wasn’t sure.

“Ryan?”

“Yes. Lucy, we have a case coming in. You need to meet me in the emergency room.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She dressed again quickly in jeans and a warm cream-colored pullover sweater. Wrapping a dark blue scarf around her neck and pulling on her coat, she headed out the door. After a subway ride and the usual couple of missed turns in the hospital, she found her way to the ER. At the nurses’ desk, she asked what room Dr. O’Doherty was in.

“He’s seeing a patient. Are you the parent?”

Lucy flinched. That question hit too close to home. That wasn’t her job. “I’m the family counselor for Neurosurgery. Dr. O’Doherty is expecting me.” She showed the clerk her badge.

“He’s in exam room nineteen,” the nurse said, indicating Lucy should go down the hall.

Lucy found the room and knocked on the door. Pushing it open slightly, she stuck her head inside the dim room.

Ryan wore a heavy red sweater with a hint of a white T-shirt showing at the collar and dark jeans that fit his trim hips perfectly. His lab coat was nowhere in sight but, despite his dress, the air of authority around him said he belonged.

A young Hispanic boy of about six months lay on a pristine white sheet on top of a stretcher as if asleep. Lucy worked to make the golfball-size lump in her throat disappear. The boy was so close to Emily’s age. This case was already hitting too close to home. The temptation to turn and run was great. The child’s unnatural stillness indicated he’d been medicated. If anything like this happened to Emily…

Ryan lifted one of the boy’s eyelids and directed a penlight into it. A couple stood nearby, the old man’s arm circled the woman’s shoulders, holding her close.

Taking a bracing lungful of air and letting it out slowly, Lucy slipped quietly into the room and stood nearby so not to interrupt Ryan’s examination. She would get through this. See about the family then go home and regroup. That way she would have her emotions under control by morning.

An anxious-looking woman stood nearby, clutching a purse in a grip that could have strangled a living thing. Lucy’s heart went out to her. Would she herself act the same way if it was Emily lying on the bed? She had to stop thinking in that context. This wasn’t Emily and if it had been, she wasn’t Lucy’s to worry over.

In what must have been her nervousness, the woman broke into rapid Spanish. Ryan gave the mother a perplexed look. Apparently he had no idea what the woman was saying.

It was time for Lucy to brace herself and be the professional she was trained to be instead of the quivering mass of emotions she’d morphed into. She stepped closer, lightly touching the mother on the arm to draw her attention. In a low, even voice Lucy explained who she was in Spanish. The woman visibly relaxed as Lucy continued to speak. “I’m Lucy Edwards and I work with Dr. O’Doherty. Your boy’s in good hands. What’s your son’s name?”

“Miguel.”

“That’s a nice name. Why don’t you come over here and sit?” With a shaking hand Lucy directed her toward a metal straight-backed chair near the wall. The man followed them and stood close. She glanced to where Ryan’s wide shoulders still leaned over the child. Taking a cleansing breath, she said, “As soon as Dr. O’Doherty is through examining Miguel, he’ll be able to tell you more.” The woman nodded, her eyes reflecting all the fear she was feeling. “What’s your relationship to Miguel?”

“His mother. No, I’m really his aunt.”

The words bit into Lucy and a swirl of agony formed in her stomach. Could things get any worse? Her hand came to rest over the spot. She was Emily’s aunt, not her mother. Pressing her hand down, she hoped it would ease the building torment but knew it couldn’

t. Would she ever recover? Accept?

“His mother ran off and left him with me.”

She’d run off and left Emily. But it had been different. Her sister was Emily’s mother. Why wasn’t there another chair for her to sit on? She had to grasp her emotions to hold them in check. She’d break down later and let the tears flow. Something she’d sworn never to do again. Lucy almost missed what the woman was saying as she reminded herself to breathe.

“Miguel’s mother didn’t understand his illness. It scared her. This…” the woman placed a hand on the forearm of the man standing beside her “…is my father. Miguel and I live with him.”

With fortitude Lucy would never have thought she possessed, she managed to continue consoling the woman and her father. Maybe if she focused on their needs instead of her own, the anguish would diminish. She continued to tell herself that lie.