Thursday, October 25, 2018

Thursday's Fourth Scene - The Aries Libra Connection #MFRWAuthor #BWLPublishing #Medical Romance #On sale


Eric hid a smile. She ran the bases with a cocky gait. At home, her teammates engulfed her. When he saw Sam wiggle into the mass of cheering women, Eric laughed. Moments later, the petite, ebony-skinned catcher for the nurses dragged Sam from the huddle.
     “Simone, remember Eric.” Sam winked. “See you at the buffet. Me and this woman’s got to talk about her attitude.” He gestured toward the pitcher for the nurses. “Looks like you made an impression.”
     He knew he had, but not the one he wanted. He strode to first base, retrieved the beer and straightened.
     She stood on the base. “I was safe, you know.”
     “Really?” He raised the can to his lips without lowering his gaze. The sweat-stained tee shirt hugged her ribs and clung to her breasts. He swallowed a mouthful of warm, stale beer he hadn’t meant to drink and caught the edge of a memory.
     He knew her. Though their first meeting had lasted less than an hour, he remembered her fire and determination. He’d watched her ply every skill and trick she knew and he had stepped in to help. For a short time, they’d been a team.
     Before he had a chance to identify himself, a booming voice ended the staring match. A hearty slap made him drop the beer. White foam gathered on the grass.
     “Getting into things already. Good idea.” The Board president stepped around Eric. “Jenessa, you look good enough to start a dead man’s heart. Two of you been introduced?”
     “Not officially,” Eric said. The audible wheeze in Bishop’s breathing made him wonder why the man was puffing on a cigar.
     “Allow me. Jenessa Robertson, Eric Bradshaw.” Bishop beamed. “Now, let me tell you, this little girl’s not as sweet as she looks. She’s a rabble-rouser. Fights hard for the union.”
     Sweet didn’t match Eric’s impression of her from the past or today. Stubborn, courageous, a leader and much too attractive did.
     Her hands moved to her hips. “It’s contract time, Mr. Bishop.”
     “Don’t be rushing into the fire, little girl. Eric just arrived.”
     “We’ve been on hold for months.”
     The obese man’s teeth clamped on the cigar. “Stick to nursing, little girl. When you have a seat on the Board, you can push.”
     “We’re asking for one.”
     “Already have a nurse. Your director has a seat.”
     She made a face. “I mean a real nurse.” She turned and jogged away.
     “What?” If Bishop hadn’t grabbed Eric’s arm, he would have followed her and demanded an explanation. The desire for a confrontation rocked him.
     Bishop laughed. “That’s one fine looking little girl. Needs a man to blunt her claws.” He winked. “You interested?”
     “What did she mean by a real nurse?”
     “Seems she thinks only bedside nurses should have a say in how the hospital’s run.” Bishop ground his cigar on the sun-browned grass. “Girl’s a born leader.”
     “Why isn’t she a nurse manager?”
     Bishop lit another cigar and released a cloud of smoke. “Would be like setting a mongoose in a cobra’s nest. Better idea would be for you to feed the sparks jumping between you. Set her to thinking about a man not a contract.”
     Eric’s jaw tightened. He felt the same anger he’d felt years before when he’d been a rookie cop and a smooth- talking drug dealer had offered a bribe. “That’s not my style.”
     “Why not? A good administrator is like ice applied to a burn. The rule is—find the troublemakers and use any means to neutralize them.”
     Eric looked away. No matter how expedient, he wouldn’t use attraction to gather information. “I’ll be busy then. There are a lot of unhappy campers.”
     Bishop laughed. “Long as they’re complaining, we don’t have to worry.”
     “Oh, there you are.” Sandra Wallace, the assistant Director of Nursing, strolled toward them. She shifted her ever-present briefcase to her right hand and grabbed Bishop’s arm. “Weren’t we meeting at the buffet?”
     Bishop’s meaty hand covered hers. “You missed the game. The nurses won.”
     She eyed Eric’s faded cut-offs. He felt like he’d been examined by a fashion consultant and dismissed. “My aren’t you casual.”
     “Not for a picnic.”
     Her lips curled at the edges. “Appearance is always vital. Have I interrupted something important?”
     We were talking about Jenessa Robertson.”
     As though brushing crumbs away, her hand fluttered. “Watch her. She’s always stirring up trouble.”
     “She seems to know a lot about the hospital’s problems,” Eric said.
     Sandra sneered. “She should. She enjoys causing them.”
     Bishop laughed. “Girl’s always rooting like a goat in the garbage dump.”
     “Lobbied for us to hire floats.”
     “So how much real trouble has she caused?” Eric asked.
     “Organized the union. Fought for every point in the contract,” Bishop said.
     Sandra’s laughter rang hollow. “She has no respect for authority. Threatened a sick-out. Even stormed a Board meeting to make demands. Jim thinks she’s cute.”
     “And dangerous.” Bishop waved the cigar. “Might offer her a job.”
     Eric moved away from the pair. “See you later. Promised to meet Sam.” As he jogged away, a glimpse of red shorts and long legs tempted him to change direction.
     Moments later, still watching Jenessa Robertson, he dropped to the ground beside Sam. Rushing into a situation he wasn’t sure he could control made no sense. He swallowed a mouthful of the icy beer Sam handed him. There would be other encounters with her. He smiled in anticipation.

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