Keeping Score (Brooklyn Monarchs 3)

Why did the fans blame her? That’s what baffled her. She wasn’t even on the team. Marilyn stepped onto the curb. The entrance to the hospital was within her sight but still several yards away. “You cannot follow me into the hospital. This is where I work.”

Kirk dogged her footsteps. Was it arrogance or disrespect? “Then answer me out here and I’ll leave you alone.”

Marilyn sped up. “I’m a private citizen. I don’t have to grant you an interview. You’re wasting your time. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“The public is interested in you.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Give me one quote and I’ll leave you alone.” He adopted a wheedling tone. “Just a few words. Do you think you should be blamed when your husband plays poorly?”

She would never give him a quote. He wouldn’t be able to print it anyway. “I have nothing to say to you. Go away.”

“Is there a problem?” A gravelly male voice interrupted them.

Perfect.

Marilyn briefly closed her eyes, then turned to the hospital’s administrator. “Good morning, Arthur. There’s no problem. This man was just leaving.”

Arthur Posey surveyed Kirk from the top of the reporter’s too long, windblown hair to the tips of his battered brown loafers. “It sounded as though you were asking Dr. Devry-Evans for an interview.”

Kirk extended his hand. “Kirk West. I’m with the Horn. I asked Dr. Evans for a quote for a story we’re doing on her husband.”

Arthur regarded the younger man as though Kirk had introduced himself as a leper. “This is a hospital, not a media center. We deal in life and death here. If you want to speak with Dr. Devry-Evans, make arrangements to meet her elsewhere.”

Kirk let his hand drop. “I’m just asking for one quote. It’ll take five minutes.”

Arthur’s stare should have turned Kirk into a pillar of salt. “Leave now or I’ll have security remove you.”

Why hadn’t she thought of that? She watched the men exchange steely stares. Several hospital employees gave them curious looks and wide berths on their way to the hospital’s entrance.

Kirk nodded. “All right.” He looked to Marilyn. “I’ll call you later.”

“Please don’t.” Marilyn was inflexible. She kept her eyes on Kirk as he walked away. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“I sent him away for the hospital, not for you.”

Marilyn straightened her shoulders and met Arthur’s cool silver stare. She ignored the disdain stamped on the older man’s bony features. “I know, and I’m glad you did.”

He arched a thin, black brow. “Are you? Growing tired of the limelight?”

At this rate, her teeth would be ground to the nub by the end of the week. “I’ve never sought the limelight.”

His smile was stiff. His eyes were cool. “And yet you married a professional athlete. That’s like marrying the president, then being surprised that you’ve become the First Lady.”

Marilyn was tempted to shake Arthur’s tall, thin body until his teeth rattled. But he was six inches taller and twenty years older than her. Besides, he was her boss. “Believe what you like.” She turned to leave.

He fell into step beside her. His brown briefcase ensured she didn’t get too close. “Thank you. I think I will. In the interim, please make sure you don’t bring any more reporters onto hospital grounds. In case you’ve forgotten, our patients take priority. We can’t have disruptions or distractions to our mission.”

Our mission. He made the hospital staff sound like Templar Knights on a holy crusade.

Marilyn’s eyes stretched wide with incredulity. “I didn’t ask Kirk West to come to the hospital.”

“If that’s true, how did he know when you would arrive?”

Marilyn swallowed a sigh of frustration. “He waited for me in the parking lot.”

She hated Arthur’s false smile. “I find that hard to believe.”