Stern Desire: Love Redeemed

By Leah Shay

This book is the work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations,

or persons, dead or alive, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Leah Shay. All rights reserved, including

the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or

by any means.

Dedication

To M and M

You are my heart, my life. Thanks for your patience.

You are my true inspiration.

Acknowledgements

I would like to say thanks to my husband for all you have done.

Thanks for your patience and support. You have done an

exceptional job keeping everything under control each day as I

submerged myself into my imaginary world.

To my sister, Jill, thanks for your critiques, and laughs.

Special thanks to Sigrid Macdonald, my editor. You worked your

magic. Thanks for pointing me in the right direction.

Ebook Cover Design by www.ebooklaunch.com

PROLOGUE

She walked into my room, and it seemed I had finally died

and left this wretched place behind. She roused in me emotions I

hadn’t experienced in years.

Didn’t I make it out of the surgery? I thought I had. The

anesthesiologist must have injected something powerful into me.

I was witnessing the most amazing being. Who was she, this

spectacular beauty, this paragon of elegance and poise? My angel

wore stylish white scrubs that framed her petite, though

voluptuous, body.

She gracefully approached my bed. Her hips swayed, taunting

me. She had light olive skin, gentle, honest brown eyes, and

thick, dark brown, wavy hair in a ponytail.

Then she smiled. Even her teeth were perfect, and her smile

warmed, relaxed, and comforted me. I knew this was the beginning

of my life, not the end.

“Mr. Stone, my name is Kyra, and I will be your nurse

tonight,” she said in a sweet, sing-song tone.

“My nurses get prettier and prettier. No offense, Carlos.”

Carlos was my recovery room nurse, standing just out of view.

“None taken,” he said.

Kyra’s face stirred life in me again. Maybe there was a

chance, but my eyes caught the shimmer of the ring on her left

hand. Disappointment doused me, snuffing the flame that had

begun to grow. Even so, that had never stopped me: I always got

what I wanted.

“Kyra, please call me Mark.” She seemed anxious, avoiding

my eyes. “I’m a trooper. I won’t be too much trouble.”

She smiled again, and warmth swept back through my body. I

could hear Carlos reporting the details to Kyra. “He fractured

his third and fourth left ribs. His chest is bandaged tightly.”

“Mark, let’s take a look,” Carlos said as he lifted my

gown, and I noticed the rise and fall of Kyra’s breasts stop.

“External fixator on the left lower extremity. Sensation

intact,” Carlos added.

“Mr. Stone,” she said, “I mean, Mark, any numbness or

tingling in the leg?” She avoided my eyes.

“No numbness or tingling,” I answered. Not in my leg. I

tingled elsewhere.

“Okay, Mark,” Carlos said. “All the best. You are in good

hands.”

“Thanks for everything, Carlos. You’ve been great,” I said,

and tried to extend my hand to him for a handshake, but the pain

in my chest gripped me. I winced, and then settled back in bed.

“Take it easy,” Carlos said, and headed for the door.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Kyra asked. She finally

looked me in the eyes.

“Not at the moment.”

“You have very nice eyes,” she said awkwardly.

My eyes have always been one of my best features. They had

an irresistible, seductive appeal that never failed to captivate

women.

“Kyra, where are you from?” I asked.

“I was born here in the U.S.”

“I detect a slight island accent.”

“I don’t think I have an accent,” she said, tending to my

bed sheets.

“Where are your parents from?”

“My mother is English with a dash of East Indian, and my

dad’s American. I grew up in Jamaica. That might be the accent

you heard, even though I don’t think I have one.”

The door opened and a woman walked in with a blood pressure

machine.

“This is Claire. She will be your patient care assistant,”

Kyra said.

“Hello, Mr. Stone, can I take your vitals?” Claire said in

a thick Haitian accent.

“Go right ahead, and please call me Mark.”

“I’ll send your family in. They are anxiously waiting to

see you,” Kyra said, and exited the room.

I could tell Kyra was quite anxious herself to leave my

room. I watched her go. I wanted to spank that perfectly rounded

ass that the uniform scrubs hugged so snugly. She walked out of

the door, and the moment I heard it close I couldn’t wait to see

her again. I felt something inside me that I hadn’t felt in

years. Kyra held the secret to my redemption.

CHAPTER 1

“Mom, it’s time to wake up.” That was my little alarm

clock: my ten-year-old son, Nathan, or Nate, as we called him.

He had never failed me yet. I could always count on him to wake

me up on time for work. It was time to get to St. Mary’s

Hospital where I worked as a nurse. Even though I got up on

time, it was so difficult to get out of the house and I always

found myself rushing to get to Hollywood.

“Mom, are we going to have dinner together before you go to

work?” he asked meekly, his light brown eyes darkening. “Aunt

Maggie made us her delicious fried chicken.”

“Isn’t that what we always do?” I said, sleepily resenting

that I had to go to work.

Three nights in a row. Please, let it be over soon.

“Mom, why don’t you work days instead? I miss you at

night,” Nate said.

“I know, son.”

I’d worked days, but I preferred nights. Days were crazy

with six patients, having to deal with doctors, and, even worse

than the patients, the patients’ family members. Then there were

exams to administer, lab calling, physical therapy, speech

therapy, and all the while there was a crazy manager breathing

down your neck and looking over your shoulder.

As we sat at the kitchen counter together, Aunt Maggie

placed our dinner before us.

I looked at Nate and was suddenly brought back to that day.

It was the lowest time of my life: a day that spawned a

perpetual darkness with no light at the end of a proverbial

tunnel.

It was March 18th, 2004. I was almost twenty-two. Nathan

was two years old. We were settling into a brand new home in

Hollywood Acres on the outskirts of Hollywood, Florida. A

beautiful, two-story home on the lake: four bedrooms, two

bathrooms, a three car garage, and, in spring, a six o’clock

sunset that took my breath away, no matter how many times I had

seen it before.

I was happy, and Rob made sure of that. He had a great job

and was the sole breadwinner of the family. He lavished us with

all the finest things: a beautiful home, expensive cars, motor

bikes, designer clothes, jewelry, and vacations several times a

year. He was happiest when he was making us happy.

I had been sitting at the kitchen counter, trying to get a

few pages into a Mark Twain novel before Nathan and Rob got

home. I heard a knock at the door. Must be a neighbor, I

thought. I was not expecting anyone, and the guard did not call

from the gates to announce a visitor. I made my way to the

front door, and stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. I

could faintly make out the forms of two police officers standing

there. I opened the door and stood there. Immediately, fear

overcame me.

“Ma’am,” one of the officers said.

“Yes, how can I help you, officers?” I finally managed to

say, my heart pounding.

“Ma’am, do you know a Robert Greene?”

“Yes, that’s my boyfriend.”

I could feel myself shaking inside.

“Where is my son? Where is Rob? Did something happen to

them?” My heart pumped so hard at this point that I could detect

the pulse in my ears. I felt as though it would burst from my

chest at any moment.

The officers had that awkward glare that precedes bad news.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s been an accident,” one said.

“Are they okay?”

“We do not know, ma’am. Is there anyone you can call?”

“No...no,” I said, completely confused.

“Ma’am, can we take you to the hospital?” one of the

officers offered.

“Which hospital?”

“St. Mary’s.”

I backed away from the door, numb. I was in a daze, and

any coherence in my actions was compelled by some outside force.

I picked up my handbag and cell phone, and walked back to the

front door where the officers patiently waited. One of the

officers held the back door of the car open for me, and I got

in. The twenty-minute ride to the hospital felt like two hours.

I kept telling myself that they had to be okay. Positive

thoughts. They had to be okay.

The police car pulled up to the emergency room entrance and

I got out. I was immediately approached by a tall, well-dressed,

African-American woman.

“Miss Harris? Hi, my name is Pam. I’m with hospital

administration. Right this way, please.”

“Where is my son? I need answers, please, please, plea...”

My voice trailed off as a huge lump welled up in my throat,

suffocating me.

“Your son is doing just fine,” she answered.

“Thank God,” I breathed. “Is Robert with him?”

“Ms. Harris, Dr. Sanchez is waiting. He’ll talk to you

about Mr. Greene.”

Dr. Sanchez was standing outside the door with “Family

Room” written on the side. He was dressed in green scrubs, tall,

with attractively strong features. He opened the door for us and

Pam and I entered. I sat in the first chair I saw. Dr. Sanchez

entered and closed the door behind him.

“So, where is Robert, Doctor? Can I see him?” I asked

anxiously.

“Ms. Harris, when Mr. Greene arrived, he was barely hanging

on. I am so sorry. We did all we possibly could, but he had

multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen.”

“Gunshot wounds?” I began to cry, hot tears searing down my

cheeks.

“Mr. Greene was at the gas station, according to the

police,” Pam said. “He had just purchased some gas, when a

strange car approached and opened fire on his car. The cops are

thinking it might be a gang initiation ritual.”

I just sat and stared at her, tears silently burning and

flowing down my face. This didn’t make any sense. Nothing made

sense at that moment. Rob was not in a bad neighborhood. He

would not put our child’s well-being in danger by taking him to

a nefarious part of the city. This was a gas station Rob had

frequented.

“Ms. Harris,” Pam said, “Mr. Greene saved your son’s life.”

“What?”

“He must have seen what was about to happen,” Pam

continued. It seemed as though she was fighting back tears

herself. “He reached over and shielded your son with his body.”

“Can I see Robert, please?” I asked, summoning all the

strength I could muster.

“Give us a few minutes, and we'll take you to see him,” Dr.

Sanchez said.

“Please, can I see him now?” I pleaded.

“Ms. Harris, that might not be a good idea. Give us a few

minute..."

“Now, please!” I snapped.

“Right this way,” Pam said, as she stood up.

I followed her down the hall, enveloped in anxiety. I

struggled with a feeling of loss so profound and indescribable

that I felt like a shell of a human being. As we got to the

door, it opened; a young woman in her late twenties stepped out

and closed the door behind her.

“My name is Jenn, and I am the nurse,” she said. “Can you

give us a few more minutes?”

“Please, Jenn,” I begged.

“Okay,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “Follow me.”

She led me over to his bloodied body lying on the table. His

clothes had been cut from his body, and they were lying next to

him.

“I’m right here,” Jenn said sincerely.

Rob, my lifeline, was covered in blood, and tubes were

sticking out of his mouth and chest. The floor was also covered

in blood. Instruments, dressings, and tubes were strewn

everywhere. I reached down and took his hand in mine. It was

still warm.

“Can you please tell me what happened?” I asked Jenn

softly.

“We got a call around three forty-five, stating that there

was a gunshot victim coming in. We were also told that there

was a baby in the vehicle, but your son is fine. I spoke with

the nurse in pediatric ER just before you came. Your son is

resting comfortably. He suffered no injuries. He is just fine.”

“Where was Robert shot?”

“Six times in the chest and abdomen. The shots badly

damaged his organs. He was bleeding so fast, we couldn't save

him,” she said, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

“Thank you, Jenn. I really appreciate it.” What was I going

to do? I had no idea where to start. He had been the one and

only man in my life. How was I going to move on from here? We

had been together since high school. He had taken care of me,

protected me. I could not do this on my own. Why did he have

to leave me? We had lived life day to day, never thinking that

at any minute it could be cut short.

Now I knew life as the fragile thing it was. Senseless,

unexplainable, tragic things happened to good people. I could

have lost my son, too. I could be mourning for my child and the

man I loved. As all the “whys” bombarded my head, I realized I

would not get an answer that would appease me, or make the pain

any more bearable. When it hit this close to home, it was a

painful and constant reminder that life was for nothing. We

were nothing but dust.

“Ms. Harris,” Jenn said from behind me.

“Please call me Kyra.”

“Kyra, your son is here.”

“Goodbye, my love, and thank you.” I took one last look at

Rob’s lifeless body on the stretcher. I burst out crying.

Jenn embraced me and led me out of the room. Nate was

waiting by the nurse’s station in a bright red wagon, padded

with blankets. He was fast asleep. I picked him up to make

sure that he was all right. As I held him in my arms, I felt a

renewed strength. I quickly realized that my precious baby boy

needed me, and I needed him. I needed Nate now more than ever; I

couldn’t step into the threatening dark that had lured me just

moments before. He was my light. He would keep me sane; he was

now my reason to go on, to fight, to live.

When I got back home, I smelled Robert everywhere. Still

holding Nate, I picked up my iPod, scrolled through my playlist,

and made the selection. I then walked down the hall to the

guest bedroom and climbed into bed with my baby boy in my arms.

As the intricate and sad harmonies of Mozart’s Requiem began, I

reflected upon life’s crude nature, and the profane scheme that

pilots us all down death's road. The dark, haunting, melancholic

violins lulled me to sleep.

My cell phone on the nightstand woke me. It displayed a

number I could not identify.

“Hello,” I said. I didn’t recognize my own voice.

“Kyra?” the voice asked.

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is Jenn, the nurse from the hospital. I have

something that belongs to you, and would like to drop it off. I

got your address and number from the chart, and it happens that

I live in the neighborhood.”

“Okay, come on over.”

“Be there in a few minutes.”

The doorbell rang ten minutes later.

“Come on in,” I said, gesturing for her to enter.

“Are you alone?” Jenn asked, obviously concerned.

“My mom should be here in an hour. She was visiting friends

in Orlando.”

Mom had been spending a great deal of time at her condo in

Orlando. Rachel, my sister, and I had come to the conclusion

that she might have found a love interest there. Our dad died on

a diplomatic trip when we were in high school. Rachel and I

discovered later that his secretary, who also died in the

accident, was his mistress. Our mom had never remarried, and the

few relationships that we knew about never lasted. I remember

how difficult that period was for us: the pain and the anger.

But, time is its own master, and heals everything.

Jenn and I sat facing each other on the sofa. What is it

that she had for me? I was going to give all of Rob’s personal

belongings away. Jenn reached into her coach bag and pulled out

a small, burgundy, velvet box. I stared at it, and knew what it

was. No wonder he had been acting so strange the past couple of

days. With shaky hands, I took the box from her. I slowly

opened the box and there nestled in plush purple velvet was the

engagement ring, exactly how I had described it to him. Rob and

I had spoken for hours about our dreams and the future. And

here was one of the central symbols of that dream: the other

part of me not there to share it.

I gingerly picked the ring up, and saw an inscription on

the inside – Kyra, my life, my all, together forever - and I

slipped the ring on my left ring finger. It was a sparkling, 4

carat, Neil Lane diamond. The cushion cut diamond was

surrounded by breathtaking round and princess-cut diamonds. This

was more than I expected, but Robert usually went all-out for

his family.

“He was going to propose on my birthday,” I said to myself.

“When is that?” Jenn asked. I had almost forgotten she was

there.

“Today. Today is my birthday.” The tears welled up again.

Jenn scooted over and let me rest my head on her shoulder.

She held me. “You shouldn’t be alone. I’ll stay with you until

your mom gets here.”

“You've done more than enough already. You have no idea

how much you have helped me.”

“I love my job, and sometimes it doesn't end at the

hospital. I will go the extra mile for anyone who needs me.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you are here.”

And she has always been there for me ever since. Our

relationship had blossomed into something greater than

friendship, we were sisters.

CHAPTER 2

It had been eight years since my life was flipped upside

down and my heart ripped from my chest, leaving a dark, hollow,

black hole. It was a constant struggle every day. At times it

seemed easier to step into the darkness, but Nate, my little

light, has steadfastly guided me through the dark period. They

say time heals the pain; I’m waiting for that time to come,

because it still hurts like hell.

After Rob’s death, I went back to school and with the

savings and student loans, in addition to a very generous gift

from a good friend, I was able to make it through college and

maintain our way of living. Jenn Cruz, the nurse who came to see

me that night, had become my inspiration and a very dear friend.

I had to find a career, and the only meaningful and rewarding

one that I could think of was nursing, which had been my life-

long dream. I graduated with a Bachelor’s of Science in Nursing,

but did not stop there. In nine months, I would complete my

Doctorate in Nursing Practice.

“Bye, Nate. See you in the morning,” I said as I walked to

the garage.

“Bye, Mom. Have fun at work.”

“Thank you, Nate.”

He always told me to have fun at work, but there was

nothing fun about where I was going. Nursing was a tough job. It

was physically and emotionally demanding. It came with the good

and the bad. I had to deal with rude patients, or crazy abusive

patients who kicked me, slapped me, spit at me, and called me

the dirtiest names in the book.

Difficult family members were our biggest nightmare – the

majority of the time, the family members were worse than the

patients. We nurses also had to deal with disrespectful doctors,

back-breaking work, and more paperwork; therefore, we had less

time for patient care. On any given night, I played the role of

a doctor, counselor, teacher, spiritual adviser, social worker,

dietitian, mediator and the list goes on. At the end of the day,

I was just a licensed drug pusher.

What was most rewarding were those patients who were very

grateful for what I had done for them: the ones who said things

like, "Thank you”, “Don’t worry about me”, “There are worse

patients than me”, “Thanks for taking care of me”, and "I

promise I won’t bother you all night." The one that would stick

with me for the rest of my life was, "You are doing God’s work,

and He would be very pleased."

I backed my BMW 528i out of the garage, selected my work

anthem – ‘the Black Eye Peas’ “I’ve Got a Feeling”. I pulled

into a parking spot on the fourth floor turned the music off and

recited my nightly prayer.

“Father on high, my Lord and Savior,

Also known as the greatest healer,

As I start my shift today,

Guide my hands, dear Lord I pray.

Give me strength to face the difficulties.

Oh Lord, you know there are plenty.

Wisdom to solve all problems,

Courage to overcome all fears,

Knowledge to make the right decisions.

May I be a beacon of light

Through this night,

To be some comfort through their pain,

To impart peace as their troubles rain.

Father, pour on me your healing power

Every day and every hour.

Thank you, Lord, for guiding me down this path,

Doing your job here on Earth.

Amen.”

I was in charge tonight, and I could only hope that it

would be a good night. It was never easy being in charge,

understaffed as we always were. It had been all about the budget

lately. Forget about the staff who were overworked, and the

implications this might have for patient care. So, what else was

new? I’d be in charge, getting patients, short one patient care

assistant and no secretary until eleven PM.

“Okay, guys,” I announced at the nurses station, “I will be

getting patients tonight. No secretary until eleven PM, so with

that said, everybody is in charge tonight.”

The phone rang. “Eight North, Nurse Kyra speaking. How can

I help you?”

“Kyra, it's Amanda.” Amanda was our nurse manager. “Are you

in charge tonight, Kyra?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. We are understaffed, so I had to take

patients.”

“Okay, listen,” Amanda said, sounding flustered. “I will

fix staffing problems, but I have received a call from my boss.

There is a VIP coming to our floor. Rooms 825 and 826 are

blocked for him.”

“Both rooms?”

“Yes, both rooms. The patient will be going in 825, and 826

is for the family. Maintenance and housekeeping will be up to

make sure everything is in top shape in there.” She paused.

Amanda did not have to say it. I knew what the next words

out of her mouth would be. Anybody of importance who came to our

floor was my responsibility. I was the chosen one for doctors,

doctors' families, hospital executives and their families,

celebrities and politicians – I was the chosen nurse. My mild

mannered temperament, empathetic and compassionate nature,

caring and cheerful personality, and my confidence in knowing my

job and doing it well made me the chosen one. I listened to my

patients, made them feel important, and no matter who you were –

a homeless person or a VIP – I rendered equal treatment to all.

Being the VIP nurse, as my coworkers called me, was more of a

curse than an honor. Taking care of these people could be very

stressful.

“I need a favor, Kyra. I need you to take this patient. He

should be your only patient.”

“Why do I always get these patients?”

“Because you are so compassionate and efficient, and you

are good at what you do. I have never gotten a complaint from a

patient about you, and even if I did I would know it wasn't

true. Unlike some of my other nurses, where I get daily

complaints and I know the patients are not lying. You really

have a way with people, and I thank you very much for all that

you do.”

“And what am I supposed to do with my other two patients?”

“Give them to the other nurses.”

“But they're already maxed out.”

“I know you will work something out.”

“I hope you remember this when I get my pay raise.”

“Don’t I always? Have a good night, Kyra.”

I was at the nurses station, trying to do as much as I

could before the VIP arrived, when the phone rang again.

“Eight North, Nurse Kyra speaking. How can...”

“Nurse Kyra, this is Nurse Jenn,” my coworker said

mockingly. “I would like to give a report on the patient going

into 825.”

“Jenn, who is this patient I’m getting? I am so stressed

already.”

“He might be Mr. Right for you. I’m going to describe him

in one word – perfection,” she whispered into the phone.

“Smoking hot body, gorgeous face, incredible jawline, perfect

teeth, long eyelashes that shade his sparkling, hazel eyes which

any woman would die for...”

“Nobody is perfect, and I'm tired of you always trying to

set me up. I’ll find someone when the right time comes.”

“It’s been eight freaking years,” she whispered.

“And this is a new low for you. A patient – are you

serious?” I said in disgust. In my five years of nursing, I had

never come across a patient to whom I was remotely attracted.

“Nurse Jenn,” I said as sternly as I could, “can you please

give me the report, or should I call your charge nurse?”

“Bitch,” she said under her breath.

I chuckled. “Stop playing around and give me the report,

Jenn. By the way, what are you doing on the night shift?”

“It’s overtime, girlfriend. They need a nurse and I need

the money. Anyway, you should call this patient, Mark Stone.

That’s his alias and he is a no-info patient. His real name is,

like...classified. He is a thirty-two-year-old patient of Dr.

Anwar. Mr. Stone and his family were vacationing in the Bahamas.

He was riding one of those ATVs and ran into a tree trying to

avoid a kid. He has a left tib-fib fracture with muscle

injuries. Hold on, Kyra.”

I could hear her talking in the background.

“Kyra, they are taking him to the OR right now. He will

come up to you later. Got to go.”

I was glad I did not have to send him to surgery. I had a

few more hours without drama. I did my rounds on my patients,

started a couple of intravenous lines for my coworker, and was

just outside Room 825 when I decided to peek in. The only thing

I recognized in the room was the hospital bed. The room was

totally transformed with potted plants, beautiful floral

arrangements, balloons, a refrigerator, a coffee maker, and a

microwave. The outdated television on the wall had been replaced

with a smart TV. My phone rang. I jumped like a kid who had been

caught doing something wrong. From the caller ID, I realized it

was Jenn.

“Kyra speaking,” I answered.

“Is your patient out of recovery?”

“Haven’t heard anything yet. Did you find out anything

else?”

“No, but I guess you will. I did not have him for too

long.”

“Was he admitted?”

“No.”

“Jenn, I am in the room and it looks like a hotel suite.

They replaced the television. There is a refrigerator that is

already stocked, a microwave, coffee maker, flowers and potted

plants. I feel like I'm in a flower shop!”

There was a click on my phone. Another call was coming in.

I looked at the phone and the call was from the recovery room.

“Jenn, I’ll talk to you later. Recovery is calling. Hello,

Kyra speaking,” I answered.

“Kyra, baby.” It was Carlos, my favorite recovery room

nurse. “Who is getting the patient going into 825?”

“That would be me, Carlos.”

“Can I bring him up?”

“Sure, the rooms are ready.”

“He’s pretty good. He’s fully recovered, his pain is

controlled, and his family’s here with him.”

“Bring him up, Carlos.”

“See you in ten, love.”

Family, I thought. Except for a few, they constantly fussed

over the patient, and posed endless and ridiculous questions

like so: "Can we do this? Can we do that? I think he’s in pain.

Give him something for pain. Call the doctor. Call the doctor

again. The doctor needs to come and see him. When is the doctor

coming...?” And all this was over a patient who could express

his own feelings and was doing just fine. Now add that to some

super rich, spoilt guy who was used to having things his way. I

had taken care of doctors and doctors' families, and I knew how

difficult they could be.

I emerged from the office. Someone had dimmed the lights,

enhancing the soothing, calming environment. Our surgical-trauma

unit was recently remodeled from the sterile décor to a more

homey décor to give our patients a better healing environment:

cherry hardwood floors, pastel colored wall paint, comforting

scenic and floral artwork with relaxing colors of blue, green

and yellow denoting life, warmth, and hope. The nursing unit was

the envy of all units with large windows overlooking the city,

and cherry cabinets matching the hardwood floor with a large

starburst floor medallion – a beautiful focal point. No wonder

our patients thought they were in a five star hotel and treated

us like maids.

Our usual busy unit was quiet tonight. No call lights going

off excessively, or noisy patients. At the end of the hall were

Carlos and the transporter, maneuvering the bed into the room.

There were about ten people standing in the hallway talking

quietly. As I approached, I noticed how well-dressed they all

were. I smiled my award-winning smile, the one that constantly

got me compliments, and introduced myself.

“Hi everyone, my name is Kyra and I’ll be Mr. Stone’s

nurse. I’m also the charge nurse. Please give us a few minutes

to get him all settled.” I gestured toward Room 826.

“My name is Cattleya. I’m Mark’s mother.” She rested her

well-manicured, diamond studded hand on my arm, her face filled

with fear. She was so beautiful: an older woman, with dark brown

hair and warm, beautiful, hazel eyes. “Please let us know as

soon as we can see him.”

“I will.”

I entered 825, where Carlos had Mr. Stone all set up. His

leg was elevated on pillows and he had an external fixator on

his left leg. The bones in his leg were held in place with pins

and screws that were attached to several metal rings placed

around the leg.

“Hi, Kyra,” Carlos said as he adjusted the bag of fluids on

the pole.

Carlos moved, giving me a full view of the beautifully

sculpted face of my patient. He must have been sent by the gods.

His face was amazingly perfect. He was well-tanned, slender

face, full symmetrical lips, prominent cheek bones and chin.

Thank God that escaped injury. When he looked up, I had to fight

not to gasp in awe. Those gorgeous hazel eyes took my breath

away, making me forget what I wanted to say. Radiating out of

his black pupils were varying shades of a bright reddish orange

hue with light green specks throughout. His eyes had me

imprisoned. They pierced through my soul, reading and uncovering

my deepest secrets. They pulled me in slowly. I blinked to break

his hypnotic gaze.

“Mr. Stone, my name is Kyra, and I will be your nurse

tonight,” I finally managed to say.

Carlos gave me a quick report at the bedside and lifted

Mark’s gown to show me the white bandage that wrapped his well-

defined muscular chest. As I checked the setting on his pain

pump, Carlos bid Mark farewell and exited the room. I was

rescued from Mark’s inquisitive question when Claire entered to

take his vital signs. I wanted to get out of here, and was not

particularly interested in him trying to get to know me.

Mark’s smooth, mellow, velvety, almost monotone voice made

me all warm on the inside. His voice exuded sex appeal,

strength, power and confidence. I felt weak thinking about him

whispering sweet nothings in my ear. This man brought back

feelings that had eluded me for years.

“I’ll send your family in. They are anxiously waiting to

see you,” I said, and exited the room.

Outside the room was a man leaning against the wall. He

belonged on a runway. He was attractive in a rugged way, and

looked like a bad boy dressed in a pair of slim fit jeans, a

tight gray tee, and a gray blazer. He was the kind of guy I used

to like, but that type generally didn't a make good husband.

“Can we go in?” he asked.

“Sure you can. I’ll let the family know.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get them. By the way, I’m J.C.,

Mark’s friend.” He extended his hand for a handshake and I took

it.

“Nice to meet you, J.C. I’m Kyra. If you guys need

anything, please don't hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks. How is he doing?”

“He’s doing fine. He needs to get some rest, though.”

“Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

J.C. went into 826 and I headed toward the nurses station.

Maybe Mark was gay; he was too pretty, and J.C., his friend, was

overly concerned and protective. Carlos was waiting for me at

the nurses station to give his report.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Carlos.” I sat next to him for

the report.

“No problem, man,” he said in a fake Jamaican accent. “Mr.

Mark Stone is a thirty-two-year-old, filthy rich man from

Brazil. He is a no-info patient.”

“What does he do?"

“Telecommunication.”

“How do you know all this, Carlos?”

“It’s amazing what people say when they are all drugged

up.” He removed the report sheet from the chart. “So, he had an

accident in the Bahamas, and had to be airlifted here to St.

Mary’s Hospital. Dr. Anwar was called in to do an application of

external fixator and wound debridement. He has no health history

and no drug allergies. There is an order for pin site care twice

a day. Check pulse in left lower extremity every four hours. He

is on antibiotics, blood thinners to prevent clots, and his pain

is controlled with the patient-controlled analgesia. Any

questions?” Carlos asked, as he closed the chart.

“No.”

“Have fun,” Carlos said, as he stood up to leave. “I’m out

of here.”

“Get home safely, Carlos,” I said.

He waved as he left the nurses station.

“Kyra,” Claire said, in her thick Haitian accent as she

entered the nurses station, “he is so handsome, and his eyes are

beautiful.”

“They sure are.” I was still trying to recover from their

effect on me. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, Kyra, his family is with him.”

Anxiety built as I remembered that I would have to go into

Mr. Stone’s room in an hour to hang his antibiotics. My phone

rang. It was Jenn.

“Did I exaggerate?” she asked.

“About what?”

“Mr. Stone.”

“No, you did not.”

“How is he?”

“He’s doing fine.”

“What did you find out?”

It suddenly dawned on me that his admission was not done.

“I forgot about the admission.”

“So, go do it.”

“Jenn, his eyes do things to me I can’t explain,” I

whispered. “I don't want to be in that room for too long.”

“Do you want me to come up and do the admission for you?”

“Will you?” I asked, all too excited.

“If I was not so busy, maybe I would.”

“So, why did you offer?” I said angrily.

“Go do your work,” she teased.

“Bitch!” I said. She laughed as I hung up.

I was hoping I would be in and out of that room in five

minutes, hang the antibiotics, and check his pulse. Now it

looked like it was going to be thirty minutes.

“Excuse me,” a soft, melodic voice said.

I looked up. Mark’s mother was standing there with the

rest of his family.

“We will be leaving now. J.C. and Gabby will be spending

the night. Please take care of my son.”

“He’s in good hands. You don’t have to worry.”

“Do you know when he will be able to go home?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stern, but we’ll have to take it a day at

a time. I cannot give you an exact date.”

“I understand,” she said, disheartened.

“Can I stay, too, Mom?” the little girl by her side asked.

She had the same intense hazel eyes.

“No, Amy, you’ll see your brother in the morning.”

“Please don’t worry. Your brother is doing just fine,” I

said to Amy.

“You are pretty,” Amy said.

“Thanks, Amy."

“Thank you, Kyra. Have a good night,” Cattleya said.

“I like her,” Amy whispered to her mom as they walked away.

I got the antibiotics and the admissions paperwork. I

opened the door to the sitting area of Mr. Stone’s room. It was

empty. I knocked on the door, and a female voice called me in. I

entered the room. Mark was on his phone texting, J.C. was by the

window in a recliner watching television, and Gabby was on the

sofa using her iPad.

“Kyra, this is my sister Gabby, and I think you've met

J.C.,” Mark said, looking up from his phone.

“I’m here to make sure he behaves,” Gabby said, as she

settled into the sofa across from Mark's bed. “He can be a

handful.”

“Shut up, Gabby,” Mark said jokingly.

She smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Gabby.”

“Likewise, Kyra.” She turned her attention to her iPad.

“Do you need me for anything, Kyra?” Mark asked in that

mellow voice.

“I’m hanging your antibiotics,” I said as I placed the

antibiotic on the pole and connected it. “I also have to do an

admission, so I’ll need to ask you a few questions if that’s

okay with you.”

“Now is perfect,” he said, and placed his cell phone next

to him.

I heard Mark call to J.C., and I turned around to see J.C.

and Gabby walking toward the door. I jumped as the door slammed

shut behind them. When I entered and saw that Gabby and J.C.

were in the room, I had been so thankful. Now I was all alone

with him. Why did they do that?

I steadied my shaky hands and placed my fingers on top of

the black X on his left foot where his pulse should be. I felt a

tingle in my fingertips. He had such soft feet, nice toes, well-

pedicured. I was not into feet, but I could...

“How am I doing?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Just fine,” I answered and removed my hand from his foot.

The tingling lingered.

“Are you married, Kyra?”

I picked up my papers and flipped through the pages. “No,

I’m not,” I answered.

“Are you engaged?” he probed.

“I think I should be the one asking the questions.”

“How about this: for each question you ask me, I ask you

one.”

“No deal. Can we get started?”

He nodded, but I knew he was not the kind of guy who gave

up easily.

“What’s your height and weight?"

“Five-ten, 175 pounds.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“I have no medication or food allergies, but what I am

severely allergic to is not getting my questions answered, and I

tend to get this uncontrollable urge to dig further.”

I shifted uncomfortably as his eyes pierced through me.

“Do you have a primary care doctor?”

He gave me the name and number of his doctor in Brazil.

“Who would you like to make health care decisions for you

if you are unable to?”

“My mother.”

“Name and number.”

“C-a-t-t-l-e-y-a.” He spelt her first name. “Stern.”

“Phone number.”

He gave me her number and I wrote it down.

“Do you smoke or drink?”

“I don't smoke, but I drink occasionally.”

“Are you on any medications?”

“No.”

“Any health history, surgical history, psych history?”

“No.”

“Any previous accidents?”

He smiled, and the warmth from his eyes traveled to the

dark recesses within me. I looked away.

“Very intuitive, Kyra,” he said. “Motorcycle accident two

years ago broke my left arm, and a car accident four years ago

broke four of my ribs and punctured a lung.”

So, he was no stranger to accidents, I thought to myself.

“Are you a terrible driver or just plain unlucky?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“I’m so sorry. I should not have said that,” I apologized.

“I’ll accept that apology only if you tell me about that

beautiful ring on your left ring finger.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped at him.

“I know when to back off,” he said, and grimaced as he

tried to adjust himself in bed.

“Do you need me to help you?” I offered.

“Please adjust the pillows for me,” he asked.

I noticed that his left wrist was wrapped with gauze. “Did

you hurt your left wrist in the accident?” I asked.

“No,” he answered awkwardly.

“Can I take a look?” I reached for his hand.

“Please don’t,” he said abruptly. As he pulled his hand

from my reach, he winced in pain.

“Let me reposition your pillows,” I said as I leaned over

him, avoiding his eyes, but a very faint and familiar scent

overcame me and I almost staggered backwards as the bad memories

flooded in.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, with great concern on his

face.

“Let’s just say I’m allergic to Clive Christian No. 1.”

“I thought you saw a ghost.”

“I’m sorry. Can you please sign here for me?” I handed him

the papers and my pen.

“Nice pen,” he said, as he signed the paperwork and handed

them back to me.

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

“I’m fine, Kyra. I’ll call if I need anything. Thanks for

your help.”

I hurried from the room. J.C. was in the sitting area

watching soccer on the television. I opened the door, stepped

out into the hallway, and leaned against the wall,

hyperventilating. Clive Christian No. 1 was Robert’s favorite

cologne and a scent that had lingered in our house for a long

time after Robert’s death. I had not encountered that distinct,

hauntingly rich scent of Indian sandalwood and Arabian jasmine

for years until now.

Marie, another RN on the unit, came out of Room 822. She

looked at me questioningly. The frown lines on her forehead

wrinkled her smooth, flawless, dark brown face.

“Are you all right, Kyra?” she asked. “Is your VIP giving

you problems?”

“I’m fine, Marie,” I said, controlling myself.

“Are you sure?” she insisted. “I’ve never seen you so

flustered before. You’re always so cool and calm.”

I needed to get off this floor for a while, so I called

Jenn to see if she was available for lunch. She agreed to meet

me in the cafeteria. I got our food, even though I did not feel

like eating, and sat at a table and waited for Jenn.

“What’s up? You don’t usually take your lunch this early,”

Jenn said, as she sat at the table. She eyed me suspiciously,

and stuck a French fry in her mouth.

“My patient got me a bit flustered. That’s all.”

“Which patient...oh, you don’t have to tell me. Mr.

Beautiful,” she laughed. “When was the last time you got

flustered over a man? This is big.”

“This guy has been on the floor for three hours,” I said.

“The sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, the tingle in my

fingers when I touch him. I’m acting all weird. He asked me if I

was engaged, married, what my ring meant...”

“Hey, hey,” Jenn interrupted. “You know what I think?"

“What?”

“I think you're attracted to him, and from the questions

he’s asking, he’s interested in you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What? That you are attracted to him?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you felt this way about a man? I've

never heard you talk like this before.”

“He is not attracted to me.”

“Kyra, if I were a man, you would be my girlfriend...my

wife, the mother of my children. I’d have you knocked up, tied

up...”

“Can you be serious, Jenn?” She was not making the

situation any better. “He's a patient. There has to be something

wrong about that. No, let me correct myself. There is something

wrong about that. I could be brought up on charges of sexual

misconduct of a health-care worker.”

“This is a very gray issue, Kyra. First and foremost, he’s

not a vulnerable patient, he’s not cognitively impaired, he’s

hospitalized for an injured leg, and you did not force yourself

on him or intimidate him.”

“I was taught in school that it was inappropriate to have

anything other than a nurse-patient relation, and accept it as

that.”

“Actually, the Code of Ethics states that you are

responsible to establish and maintain ethical boundaries with

your patients, and if faced with unethical issues, to remove

yourself from the situation.”

“What’s the hospital policy?”

“Zero tolerance. Can’t date a patient or patient’s family

member for six months after discharge or you’ll be fired."

“So, I’ll be violating hospital policies?”

“Yes, and the Code of Ethics. Even if he’s the one that

pursues you, they can say you did not act in the patient’s best

interest, and you abused your nurse-client relationship.”

“What I’m afraid of is if I continue to be his nurse, I

will eventually cross a whole lot of boundaries.”

“Then remove yourself from the situation, Kyra.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Kyra, please be careful,” she warned. “You know this

place. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Jenn, I want to do the right thing, but I can’t. I don’t

have the mental or physical strength to separate myself from

him.”

She smiled. “My friend, you have got it bad, but do you

think you are the first nurse to fall for a patient? You know

Kathy. Her husband was her patient, but she asked for a

temporary transfer back to the ER until he was discharged from

her unit.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not a patient, not me. No way.”

“Kyra, there is nothing wrong with love. It’s been eight

freaking years. It's time for you to let go and move on. You are

a beautiful person inside and out. You deserve to be happy. You

need to let someone back in your heart, baby. Life is not fair;

we see that almost every day. It’s your comeback that counts.

You have to give love another try.” She stuck some more fries in

her mouth. “You are your worst enemy, you know that? You have

chased away so many good men. You remember Steven? He is now

one of the best plastic surgeons in Miami. We could have gotten

free work if we ever needed it. And he was hot, too.”

“I don’t know why I talk to you sometimes.”

She spoke the truth, but I had no idea how to do what she

was suggesting. I’d cut off all feelings for so long. I didn’t

know how to turn them back on. I began to play with the ring on

my left hand.

“You know, sometimes you make me regret finding that ring

and giving it to you,” Jenn said.

“If it was not for this ring, we would not have been best

friends,” I pointed out.

“Who knows? Maybe you would have been happier and not been

held hostage by it. Do you ever take it off?”

“Only to clean it.”

“Why don’t you try wearing it on the other hand, for

starters?”

“I don’t know, Jenn, but I’ll try,” I promised.

She leaned back in her chair, and a smile crept across her

face. I knew she was coming up with something smart.

“What?” I said, annoyed.

“After eight years, you should be like a virgin again.”

“Oh my God! Jenn, you are insufferable.”

“You are going to make someone very happy.” She smiled

mischievously.

I took up my tray and dumped it in the trash. She sure knew

how to irritate me, but I could not ask for a better friend.

Back on the floor, I did the rounds on my patients. I

opened the door to 825, hoping that he was asleep, and it seemed

like I lucked out. J.C. was in the recliner by the window on his

phone. Did he ever sleep? He constantly watched over his friend.

I silently closed the door and walked over to the bed. Mark

looked so peaceful and angelic asleep. I gently touched the top

of his left foot; he had a very strong pulse. The warmth from

his foot traveled through my fingers. I looked at his pain pump.

He had not pressed it since the last time I was here. As I

placed my hand on the door handle to open it, I heard: “Thank

you, Kyra.”

It was Mark, and he had not been sleeping.

“You’re welcome,” I mumbled, pulled the door open, and

stepped out.

Seven o’clock could not come fast enough. I needed an

escape from the hospital, Mark Stone, and hopefully, my

conflicting feelings for him. My body and brain were fatigued

and I could not think straight anymore. Maybe after getting some

sleep I’d realize how ludicrous all this was. A patient...how

could I feel this way about a patient? Sophia would be Mark’s

nurse today. I know she shared my exact sentiments about VIPs,

but she was a very good nurse, with a great personality, and

would take excellent care of him.

I loved to see the day shift in the mornings. It signaled

an end to my stressful twelve-hour shift. I finally got to go

home.

“Kyra, am I getting two VIPs?” Sofia asked, a worried look

on her face.

“The VIP is in 825, and his family has 826.”

She was baffled, just as I had been. “Who is he?” Sophia

asked.

“Nobody knows.”

“I hate taking care of VIPs,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Likewise, and we always get stuck with them, but we do our

jobs the best we can, and it is such a good feeling when we

convert that terrible patient, and he or she requests you as

their nurse. Otherwise, there is nothing you can do to make them

happy.”

“By now we are experts at kissing butts and smiling through

the pain.” She fidgeted with her pen nervously. “So, is he a bad

one or a good one?”

“I think he is a good one,” I assured her.

Relief washed over her face.

We’d had patients that were so demanding, inconsiderate,

and rude that we had to rotate nurses to take care of them.

Nurses refused to take care of them, and would even call off

from work to escape that assignment. With the VIPs, the stress

was greater because of who they were or who they knew. Nobody

wanted to be the one that dropped the ball.

I gave her the report and we both walked to the room, so

that I could introduce her to the patient. Maybe I should have

given her a heads-up on his attractiveness. I knocked quietly

and stuck my head in to see if he was sleeping. Mark and J.C.

were awake, and watching soccer.

“Come on in, Kyra,” Mark said and turned the light on.

“Mark, this is Sophia. She will be your nurse today.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophia.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Sophia replied, staring at him.

“Sophia, can you please check the pain pump?” I asked,

before she started to drool.

“Uh...okay,” she said, and walked over to the pump to check

the settings.

“So, will you be back tonight?” Mark asked.

“Yes, I will.”

“And will you be my nurse?”

“I’m not sure.” I knew Amanda was going to give him back to

me tonight, but I didn't want him to know that yet. “I’ll see

you tonight,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

“Thank you and have a good day,” I said politely.

“He is so gorgeous,” Sophia said, as the door closed behind

us.

I smiled. “See you later, Sophia.”

It was always such a relief to walk out those hospital

doors in the morning. This morning, it was a bit different. I

felt like I had forgotten something, and could not remember what

it was. I flashed back to Mark’s reaction when I offered to look

at his bandaged left wrist, and wondered why he had been so

abrupt and guarded. Why wouldn’t he let me take a look?

My cell phone rang. “Hi, Nate.”

“Good morning, Mom.” His voiced sounded over the car

speakers. “Calling to say good morning, and I’m on my way to

school.”

“Have a good day.”

“Aunt Maggie is going shopping. She said she’ll see you

later.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom. Bye.”

Aunt Maggie had rescued us after Rob died. She never had

kids of her own and I’d always considered her my second mom. She

moved in with us and had taken care of us ever since. I pulled

into my garage and noticed my recurve bow mounted on the wall. I

removed it, got the arrows, and went into the backyard where the

target was set up. I put on my arm guard and finger tab, assumed

an open stance, and notched my arrow. I held the arrow, raised

the bow, and drew in one smooth motion. I aimed, pulled the

strings farther, and released the arrow. The arrow went flying.

Nothing was more exhilarating. I heard the thud, worst shot

ever. A few more inches and the arrow would have been in the

lake. Concentrate, concentrate, I chanted to myself. I notched

another arrow.

Rob’s voice was in my head: Lift your head, and focus on

the target. I did.

Now draw the bow. Take a deep breath and hold it, Rob’s

voice said.

Now release the strings.

The arrow went flying right where I wanted it, the center

of the bullseye. I fired off a few more arrows, and was very

happy with my target practice.

“What’s going on, Kyra?” Aunt Maggie called from the back

porch. “Haven’t seen you do that in a while...bad night?”

“Something like that.” I planted a kiss on her cheek as I

passed by her.

I returned the weapon to the garage, showered, and went to

bed. As I lay there, I could not help but wonder how Mark was

doing, and for the first time ever could not wait to get back to

work. My right hand instinctively played with the ring on my

left hand. I quickly pulled the ring off my finger and gently

placed it on the night table. My hand felt free, light, and

unburdened. I settled in bed, hoping sleep would take away all

this anxiety. Then a thought came to me. Who was Mark Stone? I

grabbed my iPhone and googled “millionaire,” but the list was

too long and Mark Stone was not his real name. I remembered his

mother’s last name was Stern, and Carlos had said he was in

telecommunications, so I typed in “Stern Brazilian

telecommunications millionaire” and presto! A picture of him

appeared on my screen, along with an article on how he started

his business and his rise to billionaire status. He was Jared

Stern, Brazil’s most eligible bachelor.

The Stern family was American-Brazilian and their primary

residence was in Brazil. He owned the largest mobile-phone

carrier in Latin America and the Caribbean. His parents owned a

successful real estate firm, which he had taken over and

expanded internationally into commercial real estate, therefore,

acquiring a mass interest in both telecommunications and real

estate. His charitable contributions had placed him amongst the

top twenty-five philanthropists in the world. His causes

addressed severe social and economic problems and provided

education, food, and medication to children in high poverty

areas around the globe. He made my contributions to saving an

inner city dance studio seem so minute, but if we all gave a

little, we would make such a positive impact on people's life.

After losing their unsafe dilapidated dance studio, these

children were dancing in an open lot. This was their after

school activity an escape from the harsh life of the inner

city - the drugs, gangs, and violence. The Robert Greene

Foundation was started and funding to purchase and remodel the

dilapidated building came from some very willing family members,

friends, local businesses, and coworkers.

I was very proud of these kids they have gone on to win

several competitions. Dancing is a release, an escape and a

healing tool for me and I understand it is also true for these

kids. They live to dance and they are good at it. Not only did

dancing rescued them from the street, but dancing fosters

discipline, encourage teamwork, give them a sense of

achievement, and belonging.

My heart raced as I scrolled down and there were pictures

of Jared and a very attractive girl. Her name was Ella Knight:

tall, beautiful, brunette and a model. There were a few pictures

of them together, and a couple with them smiling; his smile

never reached his eyes, but she looked immensely happy, always

clinging onto him.

So, he did have a girlfriend. That was good to know. Where

was she? Why wasn’t she at his bedside holding his hand? What

was his game?

CHAPTER 3

As usual, Nate woke me up right on time. Aunt Maggie made

us garlic salmon, baked potatoes, and vegetables for dinner. We

ate together. I got dressed, and left to go to work. As I drove

through the iron gate of my community, I caught sight of my

hands on the steering wheel. I had forgotten to put my ring on.

I should go back; it would only take a few minutes, and I would

still be early. I had never left this early for work. I was

always rushing to clock in by seven PM. I wanted to turn back

for the ring, but the urgency to get to work was much stronger.

So, I drove on. Jared’s face — those tantalizing, mesmerizing,

gorgeous eyes — beckoning me forward.

I got to work half an hour early. At the hospital

entrance, I noticed several television vans with their antennas

stretched sky high. Something big was happening. I would

probably hear about it later.

I could not believe I had forgotten my ring. Usually, I

took it off, cleaned it, and put it back on. Now, after meeting

this angel, I felt as though he had a controlling power over me

that made me feel and do things that I would not normally do. I

walked into the hospital feeling like a teenager going to meet

her boyfriend: all anxious, excited, and deliriously happy. What

was I doing? And why was I acting like this? What were the

chances that he was really interested in me? Maybe it was a game

for him. He was way out of my league, and if this ended badly I

was going to be right back into that dark hole, buried even

deeper. I was absorbed in my thoughts when I heard my name being

called. I looked around: it was Jenn, standing by the emergency

room entrance. I waved and continued to the employee entrance. I

did not want to be seen here; she would notice that I was not

wearing the ring and make a big deal out of it.

“Kyra,” she called again. “I’ll come up later.”

“Later,” I called back.

I hoped she would be so busy tonight she would not find the

time to come up.

I heard the voice of Amanda, my nurse manager, before I saw

her on the unit. I wondered what she was still doing here. She

was hardly ever here this time of the evening.

“Kyra, I hope you got a good sleep.” She took my hand like

I was a child. “Come, let’s go to my office.”

“Am I in trouble?”

She smiled and closed her office door behind us. “You know,

you are one of the best nurses on this unit. I have never gotten

a complaint about you from anyone, patient or coworker. Everyone

loves you. Your coworkers think of you highly, you are a hard

worker, and you never complain about anything.”

“Amanda, am I getting a promotion or a raise?” I

interrupted.

I knew where this was going. Her praises were always

followed by requests for a favor. If Amanda was here at this

time of the evening, obviously waiting to speak to me, something

was definitely wrong.

“I need a favor,” she finally admitted.

“Another one?”

She smiled.

“Please, Kyra, I need you to work with me on the new

schedule.”

“What new schedule?”

“First, those are for you.” She pointed to her windowsill.

I turned to see an elegant silver vase containing some stunning

yellow and orange orchids with intricately woven red veins and

bright red lips. The vibrant hues were amazing and reminded me

of Mark’s vibrant, multi-faceted, hazel eyes.

“From whom?” I asked, pretending not to know who they were

from.

“Mr. Mark Stone.”

“Wow, they are beautiful,” I said with just a little

excitement in my voice.

“I’m not sure if you saw the news vans at the entrance of

the hospital. Our VIP, Mr. Stone, seems to be very newsworthy,

and that entire media circus is for him. So, we changed his name

today again to Phillip Jacobs. Security has a list of his

visitors, who should know the security code. Security will call

you or him when he has a visitor, and they will escort visitors

up to the room.”

“Okay.”

“Also, for his safety, we would like for him to have the

same staff members throughout his treatment.”

She leaned back in her chair and paused.

“Kyra, I wish I did not have to ask you this, but can you

pick up an extra day Mondays through Thursdays?”

“I’m sorry, but you know how busy I am with work, school,

and clinical.”

“You made me feel so proud this morning when I did rounds

on our VIP. He had nothing but good things to say about you and

the hospital. Then my boss, the chief nursing officer, and the

chief executive officer, visited him; they were all very

impressed.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “Kyra, he is requesting

that you be his nurse.”

“No, Amanda, you can’t do this to me.” I shook my head.

“Please, Kyra. He thinks very highly of you, and he wants

you to be his nurse.”

“So, you want me to work Mondays through Thursdays, for how

long?”

“About two weeks.”

I was having a hard time already fitting all the things I

had to do in a week, and now I needed to work an additional

night. Luckily I did my clinical hours at Dr. Sanchez’s

practice. He was Jenn’s fiancé, so I could work around my

clinical hours.

“Okay, but only for two weeks, and there’s going to come a

time when I’m going to need a big favor.”

“And when that time comes, I’ll be happy to grant it.” She

looked relieved. “Jasmine will do the rest of the week, and if

you guys need to switch days around please feel free to do so.”

“Also, my evaluation is coming up, and I need my six

percent raise. This new three percent is not going to do it.” I

stared her in the eye.

“Six percent and that’s only between us.” Amanda agreed.

“Thank you.”

Next to the orchids was a sealed envelope with my name. I

picked it up and placed it in my back pocket. “Get home safely,”

I said.

“Thank you, Kyra,” she said sweetly.

Sophia was tied up with another patient, so I went to see

Mark Stone. I entered the sitting area and a man who looked like

a bodyguard glanced up from his newspaper. He placed the paper

on the chair next to him and stood up. He looked like a

wrestler, well-built and tough.

“Change of shift?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, a bit uncertain, wondering if he was going

to frisk me before I entered. “I’m Kyra. I’ll be the nurse

tonight.” I showed him my badge.

“Go on in, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Glad that he did not frisk me, and upset that

I had to be screened to see my patient, I took a deep breath to

calm myself, knocked, and entered the room. A delicately

balanced scent of lemon, cedar, and lavender floated up my nose.

Whoa, it smells good in here.

“Hi, Kyra, nice to see you. Are you all right?” Mark asked,

concerned.

“Why would you ask that?”

“You don’t hide your feelings very well, Kyra.”

“I’m fine. How was your day?”

“It has gotten much better now,” he answered. I noticed his

eyes shifted to my left hand.

He was sitting up in bed in a tight white t-shirt and some

white basketball shorts. I could see every ripped muscle on his

chest and arms. No more hospital gown, even though he could make

them the latest fashion craze. The hospital pillows were gone,

except the ones elevating his left leg. He had his own pillows

and a plush, comfy bedspread. He smiled, his eyes twinkling. I

was drawn closer to his bedside; the green in his eyes was more

vibrant than ever.

“Are you in any pain?” I asked, hoping he would not ask

about my ring less hand.

“Sophia medicated me twice today. When she cleaned the pin

sites, that solution stung like hell.” The sparkle from his eyes

disappeared as he remembered the pin site care.

“I’ll medicate you before I do the dressing.”

There was a knock at the door and Gabby, his beautiful,

bubbly sister, stuck her head in.

“Hi, Kyra,” she said. “Just checking on my brother.”

She had a mischievous look on her face.

“I’m fine,” Mark said, sounding annoyed at his sister's

interference.

“Haganos saber si podemos volver,” Gabby said.

Let us know when we can come back.

She gave him a wink and her head disappeared out the door.

The door closed. I smiled to myself. He kicked them out at the

change of shift when he knew I was coming.

“So, what are we calling you today? Is it Mark or Phillip?”

“Jay.”

“Pardon me?”

“My name is Jared Stern, but my friends call me Jay.” He

paused; our eyes met. “You can call me Jay.”

“Well, Jay sounds like a great nickname for your friends to

use, but I don't know you that well so I'm going to stick with

Jared," I said. He looked away because I couldn’t. If only he

knew the things he could make me do by looking at me the right

way. His eyes shifted to my left hand again.

“Is there something you would like to ask me?” I turned to

write the names on the board of everyone who would be taking

care of him tonight.

“Am I allowed to?”

“Please go ahead. This might be your only chance.”

“I noticed you are not wearing your ring.”

“You are very observant, Mr. Stern.” I turned around. I was

not prepared to spill it all. I took a quick glance at him. He

was waiting for an explanation, but I said nothing.

“You are an enigma, Nurse Kyra.”

“Mr. Stern, you made an observation which does not

necessarily warrant an answer. You should have asked me a

question.”

“You’re right.” He chuckled. “Can I get a do-over?”

“You had only one chance. No do-overs.”

He gave me that sad, boyish look. “I trusted you enough to

tell you my name.”

“I took it off to clean it when I got home, and forgot to

put it back on.”

“Have you ever played the game ‘Truth or Dare’”?

“I have.”

“Well, we should play. Here are the rules,” he said. “One

truth or dare per day, so use it wisely. There is a twist to our

game, though. The question is asked first. You have the choice

to reply with truth or dare, and then you have twelve hours to

carry out the dare.”

“I prefer not to play games.”

“Why not?” he enquired.

“Fine,” I conceded.

“We start tonight.”

“You used up your question already.”

“That was before the game arrangement; furthermore, I did

not get an answer.”

“I have to go. Call if you need me.”

“Did you get your orchids?” he asked as I turned to leave.

“Thank you, they are beautiful. I got distracted when I

came in and totally forgot.”

His eyebrows raised. “Distracted, by what?”

“They are exquisite. Thank you very much.”

“Did you read the card?”

“No, not yet.”

“It’s tucked in your back pocket.” He pointed at me.

My hand instantaneously went to my back pocket. I forgot I

put it there.

“Orchids are the most delicate, beautiful, exotic flowers.

They symbolize beauty, affection, elegance and perfection. I

think orchids are your flowers. They are a perfect symbol of

you.”

There was a knock at the door. Thank God. It was getting

too hot in here for me. I needed to escape. “I’ll get that.”

I opened the door, and of all people it was Jenn standing

there.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Jenn.

“Who is it, Kyra?” Jared asked.

I stood back and gestured for her to come in.

“Jenn,” Jared said, like he had known her forever. “Come on

in. You two know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Jenn answered jokingly. “She is my best

friend.”

She placed her arm across my shoulders.

“I came to see how you are doing, and also to thank you for

that lovely bouquet.”

“You guys have been exceptional. I am very happy with the

care I’ve received, and the nurses are simply the best.”

“We try our best.”

“So, Jenn, how did you guys meet?”

I was about to panic. Jenn looked at me and gave me her

I’ve got you look. “It’s a long story and I have to get back to

the ER.”

“Jenn, I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Please stop

by anytime,” Jared said.

“I will.”

“I felt like I walked in on something,” Jenn said as we

walked down the hall.

“No, you didn’t.”

“What is going on?”

“Just drop it.”

“You are going to tell me everything.” She reached into her

pocket, took out her iPhone, touched a few keys, and handed it

to me. On the screen was a huge bouquet of flowers.

“They are beautiful, Jenn,” I said.

“These are those beautiful fake flowers that you could not

tell if they were real or not...they felt real, even smelt like

real flowers.”

“I remember we looked at them in that store, and they were

very expensive. A bouquet like that would cost hundreds of

dollars.”

She nodded with a big smile on her face. “What did you

get?”

“Orchids.”

“I’m sure they are beautiful,” she said, as she placed her

phone back in her pocket. “Kyra, I think he likes you.” Jenn

gave me a hug and whispered into my ear, “Where is your ring?”

Nothing escaped her.

“I’m coming up for lunch. Tell me about it later.” She was

gone.

I did rounds on all the patients, making sure everyone was

comfortable and happy, and with those who were not, I did damage

control. My phone rang. It was a nurse from another floor asking

for help. She had a patient who had a wound vacuum, and they

were having difficulties getting it to function properly. I

asked Marie to cover for me while I went to Three South to help

fix the dressing. I had just gotten to Three South when my phone

rang. It was from Room 825.

“Mr. Stern, how can I help you?” I asked.

“What’s with the formality?

“I’m off the floor right now.”

“Kyra, when you find time, can I please have some pain

medicine?”

“I’ll have someone come in and medicate you.”

“I’ll wait.” Then, in a very low sexy voice, he said, “I

only want you to medicate me.”

The phone almost fell from my hand.

“Jared, there is no need for you to suffer in pain.”

“Kyra, I’ll wait, and please don’t send anyone else.”

Click. He hung up.

The dressing was in a very intricate position on a large

woman. It took three nurses to fix this dressing: one holding

the leg, one holding up the belly, and me getting up under there

to fix the dressing. Fifteen minutes later, there was no leak

anymore. I felt so dirty and tired, like I had done twelve hours

already. I hurried back to my floor, so that I could medicate

Jared.

The wrestler bodyguard was still in the sitting area. He

looked up from his phone and nodded. I knocked on the bedroom

door and entered. Jared looked very uncomfortable; he was in

pain.

“Jared, why did you let yourself suffer unnecessarily?” I

asked as I injected the med into his intravenous line.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’ll suffer in pain if that’s what it takes to see you

again.”

I ignored that comment. “Do you want me to do the pin site

care now?”

“It was done once today already.”

“It’s ordered for two times per day. I’m sure you want to

get better and get back to your life.”

I prepared the supplies and removed the old sponges from

the pins when the questions started.

“Kyra, how long have you been a nurse?”

“Five years.”

I was concerned about the look of a pin site. It looked

inflamed, and he winced and swore under his breath when I

applied the new sponge with the disinfecting solution.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That really stings.”

“That pin site is a bit inflamed.”

“What made you become a nurse?”

“My friend Jenn was instrumental in my decision.”

“So, Jenn was the reason. She must have made quite an

impression.”

“We met under difficult circumstances. She was a total

stranger to me at the time, but she really helped me through

everything with her compassion and generosity. She went above

and beyond to help me and my son.”

“You have a son?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, his name is Nathan, and he is ten years old.”

“You have a ten-year-old son? I’m sorry, but how old are

you?”

“Take a guess.” This was not a strange question for me. I

got asked my age a great deal, and I liked to have them

guessing. A patient of mine told me once that I looked like I

should still be in high school.

“You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

I smiled.

“I had a patient last week who refused to let me put a

Foley catheter in him because I look younger than his daughter,

and she was eighteen.”

“So, are you going to tell me, or should I keep guessing?”

“I’m thirty.”

“Wow.”

“People think my mom is my sister. I hope I look as good as

she does when I get to her age.”

“I have no doubt you will.”

He stared at me. I busied myself, but the compulsion to

look at him overcame me. I looked up and he was staring at me.

His eyes tugged at my heart.

“It’s very impolite to stare,” I said, and quickly looked

away.

“I could have said the same to you on several occasions,”

he replied.

I smiled.

“Did you read your card?”

“No, not yet. I’ve been busy.”

I finished his pin care and cleaned up.

“You have very gentle hands, Kyra.”

“Thank you. How is the pain?”

“I’m very comfortable, thank you, but there is one other

thing.”

“What is it?”

“Can you please read the card?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he insisted.

I removed the envelope from my pocket and took the card

out. He had a beautiful, scripted handwriting.

“Lovely handwriting,” I commented.

“Thank you. Read the card, Kyra,” he insisted.

My eternal gratitude for taking such good care of me.

I thought you were an angel when you glided into my room that

first night.

Your elegance, beauty, and poise confound me.

I thought it was the drugs, but that angel never went away.

You have a great heart and a beautiful spirit that shines

through in all that you do.

Hope you enjoy your orchids. They remind me of you: graceful,

delicate, exotic, beautiful and strong.

Orchids have been eloquently described as “living gemstones.”

That’s what I think you are – a living, precious jewel.

Jared

I should not have read it in front of him. I did not know

how to respond, so I continued to look at the card, reading it

over again. What could I say? “Thank you. You shouldn’t have?”

“Kyra, take a breath,” he said gently.

“I’m sorry, Jared, I...I don’t know what to say.” I

fidgeted with the card.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Jared, what I do is my job, and I haven’t done anything

for you that I would not have done for any of my patients.” I

lifted the card. “Thank you, but this does not feel right.”

“Kyra.” He took hold of my hand.

Please don’t do that, I thought. I couldn’t handle his

touch: the warmth, the electricity that traveled up my arm.

“From the moment you walked into this room, I knew it. I

have never been more certain of anything.”

“Stop, please stop.” I pulled my hand away. “Jared, this is

way too fast for me. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. A

guy like you must have a girlfriend or a wife somewhere...I come

with baggage and issues...”

“That makes two of us. We can help each other.”

“Listen, Jared.” I sat on the side of the bed, which I

realized immediately was a bad move. “This is wrong. I would be

crossing professional boundaries here. Do you know how much

trouble I could get in? I could get fired...or even lose my

license. I am a professional caregiver, and I can’t do this.

This is very, very...unprofessional and unethical.”

“Are you finished?"

I nodded in response.

“So, what you are saying is that as long as I’m your

patient...”

“It is unacceptable to have a relationship with a current

patient and for up to six months after discharge.”

“So, is there a chance?”

He obviously refused to listen to what I was saying.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“And I’ll repeat. Is there a chance?”

I sighed and avoided his eyes. “No...I don’t know...I don’t

think so.” I was confused.

“You don’t know. What’s holding you back aside from the

regulations? There must be a way around that.”

“You don’t know me.” I was stressing now. “I can’t do

this.”

“We’ll get to know each other, Kyra. That’s what it’s all

about. Just give it a chance.”

“No, I can’t. It’s not right.”

“I’ll ask Dr. Anwar to transfer me to another hospital, or

I’ll even sign out against medical advice.”

“Are you crazy?” But his eyes said otherwise; he meant it.

“Yes. I am about you.”

“Jared, we can't end our nurse-patient relationship to

pursue an...an...”

“Intimate relationship,” he concluded.

“I can’t do this. I’m not willing to risk my career for...”

“Kyra,” he said gently. He lovingly stared at me.

Why did I look in those beautiful, vibrant, hazel eyes that

hypnotized and rendered me helpless under his spell? He had to

be a warlock or a sorcerer, because I could not move. My mind

was telling me to get up and go, but my body was not responding.

I was frozen. His hand reached to the back of my head and slowly

pulled me toward him.

“Please stop,” I begged nervously. My heart quivered. My

entire being yearned for his lips on mine, but that nagging

wretched voice in my head annoyingly repeated, He’s your

patient, he’s your patient...

“Do you really want me to?” he asked in that velvety smooth

voice, his lips inches from mine.

He was intoxicating, both in his scent and his touch. The

closeness had me mystified.

“Do you want me to stop?” he repeated, his lips brushing

against mine. “You’ll have to stop me, Kyra, because I don’t

think I can.”

I closed my eyes as he captured my lips with his. There was

a flicker of light in the dark hollow space where my heart

belonged. The flicker transformed into a bizarre, intense aching

feeling in my chest. His tongue gently circled mine. My insides

felt weak. He sucked my tongue and then my lips, sensually,

slowly, and softly. The ache radiated down my torso and into

places that I never knew could ache. I wanted more and yet I

wanted him to stop. I was scared.

The aching in my chest radiated to my arm, coupled with

dizziness, extreme weakness, shortness of breath, rapid

heartbeat and tingling. I had all the symptoms of a heart

attack! I opened my eyes and focused on the code blue button on

the wall. I wondered if I should press it. I was probably being

punished. I needed medical attention. I felt like I was dying.

If I were, I would die happy.

I closed my eyes and did what I had longed to do. I took

those full, sexy lips in my mouth. His hand tightened at the

back of my head, and a moan escaped me. This kiss was the

catalyst for all the buried, foreign emotions I’d thought I no

longer had. Then I heard voices from outside the door. I pulled

away.

“Fuck!” Jared said.

I stood up and mumbled, “I have to go now.”

“Kyra,” Jared called.

“What!” I snapped at him, disappointed that I gave in so

easily to his alluring magnetic charms.

“Don’t fight it.”

“Don’t fight it,” I repeated. “I've got to be crazy. I

think I need a psych evaluation.”

He chuckled.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t be your nurse anymore,” I mumbled.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then it opened.

J.C. and Gabby came in.

“How is my brother?” Gabby asked as she entered. “Is he

being good, taking his medications, listening to his nurse?”

“He’s doing just fine,” I answered, and escaped out the

door.

“What’s up, Jay?” I heard J.C. ask, just before the door

closed.

I needed to go to the ladies’ room. I did not realize how

wet my underwear was.

I sat in the office and collected myself. What the hell

happened? I had never felt this way about anybody: the

attraction, the magnetism, the longing, the intense arousal were

unbelievable. How could I have kissed him and loved it so much?

Why did he stir up such mind-blowing emotions in me? Why

couldn’t I control myself when I was around him? He was my

patient and this was so unethical. How was I going to handle

this? How could I distance myself from him when I was forced

into this situation? I couldn’t tell Amanda that I refused to

take care of him. He had already threatened to sign out against

medical advice, or ask for a transfer. I couldn’t imagine what

would happen if he actually did. I would be up in the office

being questioned and interrogated by everyone as to why Jared

Stern wanted to leave after he had spoken so highly of us. What

happened on my shift that had changed his mind about the

hospital? What would I say? He thought there was a possibility

that we could be together if he left. This was a no-win

situation. In the end, the nurse was going to get the blame no

matter what.

I needed to maintain professional boundaries. I was the

nurse, the one with the power from a professional standpoint. I

was the one who should have established and maintained these

boundaries, but we had a power imbalance here. He had stolen the

power, or maybe I did not have it to begin with. He had the

power to have my nurse manager jumping through hoops, along with

everyone else in the hospital, as a matter of fact. I had never

had the power.

I jumped as my phone rang. The number displayed on it was

Jared’s room.

“Mr. Stern, how can I help you?”

“Kyra, can I see you for a minute?”

“Is there something I can bring in for you?”

“Can I have something for the pain?”

“You sure can.”

I hang up and dialed Marie’s number. She was glad to

medicate Jared for me, even though I knew he would not be happy.

A few minutes later, my phone rang again: it was Jared. I did

not answer, so it was forwarded to the nurses station. My phone

rang once more, but this time it was Claire, the patient

assistant. She informed me that Jared wanted to see me. Five

minutes later, my phone rang again: Room 825 was displayed on

it.

“Mr. Stern, how can I help you?”

“Did you get my message?”

“Yes, I did.”

My iPhone vibrated in my jacket pocket.

“Please answer your cell phone,” Jared said.

I was puzzled for a minute. I could not understand how he

knew my phone was ringing. I looked at my iPhone; it was

displaying a number I did not recognize.

“Answer your phone, Kyra,” he repeated emphatically.

I numbly accepted the call.

“This is more private. I don’t trust those phones you guys

carry around,” he said.

“How did you get my phone number?” I was puzzled.

“I can find anything that I need,” he said confidently.

That did not surprise me. He could probably get anyone he

wanted, too. I was sure.

“Are you avoiding me, Kyra?”

“No, I’m not,” I lied. “You are not my only patient, you

know.”

“I detect some hostility in your voice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kyra, I can’t apologize for what happened earlier.”

“Please forget about it. What happened earlier was a stupid

mistake, and it will not happen again.”

“I can’t forget about it, Kyra. Can you?”

I could not, either.

“Good night, Kyra. I won’t bother you for the rest of the

night.”

“Good night, Jared.”

I hoped that I could make it through the night without

going back to that room. Everything was going great, until four

AM, when Claire called and told me that Jared’s blood pressure

was very elevated. I went into the room to check on him, and to

retake his blood pressure. He was sitting on the edge of the

bed. His pillows, the linen, and his t-shirt were all soaking

wet.

“Does he have a fever?” I asked Claire.

“No, he doesn’t,” she answered.

“It was just a nightmare, Kyra,” Jared said.

What was he dreaming about, to have him sweating so

profusely and with such extremely elevated blood pressure?

“Kyra, can you help me?” Claire asked.

“Sure.” He was looking so hot in his tight, white, wet t-

shirt and wet, unruly hair.

“I need to make the bed. Can we put him in the chair?”

Claire asked.

“I prefer to stand,” Jared said. “I know I can’t put any

weight on my left leg.”

He was out of bed yesterday with physical therapy and did

very well, so I knew he could handle this. I helped him to

stand, and I stood in front of him. He placed his hands on my

shoulders. This was the first time I had seen him standing. His

five foot, ten inch, well-built stature intimidated me. I felt

the warmth from his hands on my shoulder, and the tingling

started. I stood as still as a statue, never looking up, but I

felt his penetrating gaze. I wished Claire would move a little

faster making the bed.

I felt him wobble. “Are you okay?" I asked.

“I’m good. And you?" he asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You need to learn how to relax,” Jared whispered in my

ear. His lips were a little too close for comfort.

“Claire, can you please hurry? I think he’s getting tired,”

I tried to conceal the uneasiness in my voice.

“Almost finished, Kyra,” Claire answered.

He wobbled again. I instantly looked up. There was a

devilish smile on his face. I frowned at him. He began to

lightly massage my shoulder.

“Could you please stop that?” I whispered.

“Just trying to loosen you up.”

“I do not need loosening up. Please stop it,” I repeated.

“Kyra, I need to go get some pads for the bed,” Claire

said.

“Can we put him back to bed first?” I asked Claire. I did

not want to be left alone with him like this.

“I’m fine. I can handle standing a little longer,” Jared

intervened.

Claire left to get the supplies.

“Jared, what are you doing? Are you intentionally trying to

get me in trouble?”

“Relax.” His hand stroked my cheek, and then lifted my chin

so that I was staring into his eyes. He lowered his head to kiss

me.

“Please...please, don’t,” I begged quietly. Claire could be

back at any minute, and I would be in such a dilemma if she

returned and found me in a lip lock with my patient. It would be

all over the unit like wildfire, a sure way for me to get fired.

They would probably want to set an example out of me. The

embarrassment would make me quit before management had a chance

to fire me. The caution sirens were on blast in my head, but my

body was saying yes. I closed my eyes and waited for the kiss.

“Open your eyes, Kyra.” I smelled his sweet breath.

I opened my eyes and found his face inches from mine. I

felt myself sinking into a trance-like state. “Do you realize I

could lose my job or, even worse, be brought up on charges of

sexual misconduct?” I said in a daze.

“And who would dare bring you up on charges?” he said

softly.

“The Board of Nursing.”

His lips brushed against mine. I closed my eyes again.

Butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. My v-jay twitched.

The outer door to the sitting room opened; Claire was coming

back. I regained my composure and prayed that she could not feel

the romantic tension in the room.

“Finished, Kyra,” Claire said. We helped Jared back in bed.

“Claire, do you need me for anything else?” I asked.

“No, Kyra, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to change your shirt?” Claire asked Jared.

I turned and walked out of the room. I did not want to see

this.

When Claire was finished, she found me at the nurses

station to tell me that Jared was waiting for me to take his

blood pressure. She had offered, but he refused her.

He was going to get me in trouble.

Jared stretched his arm out as I entered. As I put the cuff

on his arm, a lock of hair that was tucked behind my ear fell

loose. I saw his right hand coming up toward me.

“Don’t move,” I said. My other patients would have listened

to me, but not Jared Stern. He tucked the lock of hair back

behind my ear. As he did so, his hand gently caressed my ear

lobe and down the side of my face. A shiver ran through my

spine. I stood up and pressed the button on the blood pressure

machine.

“Just trying to help.”

I’m sure you are. He did not have that mischievous look on

his face, but no doubt he was enjoying it.

“Your blood pressure is fine.” I took the cuff off his

hand.

“What’s on your mind, Kyra?” Jared asked.

“There is nothing on my mind.”

“When something’s bothering you, there is that distant look

on your face, and there’s this tell-tale line that forms right

between your eyebrows,” he pointed out.

I looked at him, puzzled.

“I read people very well. So, are you going to tell me, or

do I have to use my truth or dare?”

“Well, you can’t use it yet.”

“Technically, it’s tomorrow.”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Fine. Truth or dare, and I can tell if you are lying.”

“How can you tell if I’m lying?”

“That, I won’t tell you just yet. So, truth or dare?” he

suggested.

“Truth,” I answered. This might work out to my benefit.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering if you had a girlfriend, and what would

she think if she knew you were coming on to me.”

“Ella and I have an uncomplicated relationship. She is more

a companion than a girlfriend.”

“What does that mean?”

“She’s there when I need her.”

I was saddened and disappointed that Jared might not be

capable of providing the type of relationship I sought, a

committed fulfilling relationship with strong emotional ties.

Ella did whatever he wanted, was there for his satisfaction,

came running at his beck and call, put up with his

indiscretions, and there was no emotional attachment on his

part. What kind of woman would subject herself to such a

relationship? He might not even care that much about her, but I

was sure she had feelings for him.

“Don’t over think it, Kyra. It works for us.” He was

watching me closely.

“Do you have more than one companion?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had more than one companion?”

“No.”

“It’s almost change of shift. Have a good day, Mr. Stern.”

I picked up the blood pressure cuff.

“Kyra,” he said softly. “It would be different for us.”

“Have a good day.”

“Those are some gorgeous orchids,” Aunt Maggie said as I

placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks. They are from a patient,” I answered, sounding

tired.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Was I that easy to read? She could always tell when

something was on my mind.

“Not now, Aunt Maggie.”

I was exhausted, but sleep eluded me anyway. I found my

ring on the night table, right where I left it, and placed it on

my right ring finger. At twelve noon, I was still awake, lying

in bed, my mind racing with unanswered questions. How did he get

my number, and what else did he know about me? Why hadn’t Ella

visited him? I would have heard if she did. Why did he consider

his girlfriend a “companion”? What was this baggage that he

came with? Was he always like this or did something happen? From

my Google search, they had been together for five years, and

everyone thought they were a match made in heaven. One thing was

for sure, they looked good together.

I finally fell asleep, and was awakened by a splitting

headache. I rarely had headaches, but when I did, something was

wrong. I looked at my phone; it was three PM, and I had a text

message from a number I very much recognized.

Jared’s text: Hope I didn't scare you off. Sweet dreams.

See you later. Jared.

Sweet dreams. Yeah, right.

What was I going to do about my situation? I could not

control my feelings for Jared Stern. Love speaks from the

heart. Once that heart makes that choice, the mind, body, and

soul succumb, and it has no alternative but to follow. The heart

had ruled; it was out of my hands.