Midnight Hour by Debra Dixon

Author:Debra Dixon [Dixon, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-80455-6
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2012-05-16T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

Nick’s car assaulted her senses in a way that was purely sexual and impossible to ignore, much like the man himself.

She heard as well as felt the rumble of power created by the engine, the heart of Nick’s sleek machine. An incredible leather seat welcomed her body as though the spot had been made for her. Nick’s strong bronzed hands handled the stick shift and the steering wheel so sensually that Mercy was forced to lick her dry lips.

Before she made a fool of herself, she took her eyes off his hands and busied herself inventorying the contents of the front seat. A small wooden crate designed to hold cassette tapes balanced precariously on the console between them. Not surprisingly, Nick’s taste ran to hot, electric jazz, and zydeco, which she knew was Cajun soul music. On the dashboard lay an opened pack of cinnamon gum, confirming her suspicion that Nick liked everything hot—from gumbo to gum.

His preference for “hot” explained why he’d been attracted to Midnight Mercy, but not why he spent so much time with Mercy May, fixing her plumbing and screen door, walking her dog, and cooking dinner. Sometimes when he didn’t think she was looking, she saw that sadness he tried to hide. He said she made him forget. Forget what? The pain of losing his family? Being a stranger in a new city? The pressures of his career?

As they drove she admitted to herself that Nick’s career was an unresolved emotional issue rattling around inside her. Her logical brain reminded her of rule number three—never trust a doctor with your heart—and her heart told her the time had come to ignore rule number three. Looking at his incredible profile, Mercy tried to drum up some of her ingrained prejudice against doctors as companions, but she couldn’t.

Even if she disregarded the great biceps, smoldering black eyes, and killer Louisiana smile, she could not manage to make herself think of him as a doctor. Nick Devereaux wasn’t like any doctor she’d ever met. In the last week and a half she’d spent more time with him than she had with her parents in four months.

If he was concerned about his reputation or image, he certainly didn’t show it. Despite his comment about making less money in emergency medicine than in some of the high-dollar medical specialties, Mercy knew he could still have afforded a prestige car if he had wanted one. Obviously, he hadn’t. Instead of a status symbol, he’d chosen to rebuild an old car that held fond memories of his youth.

He didn’t carry a beeper and hardly talked about medicine at all. He’d seemed detached that day in the emergency unit, yet she knew he cared deeply about the hospital and his patients. Why else would a doctor devote this kind of time to a hospital benefit? Why else would Sister Agatha approve of him? Whoa! Mercy cautioned herself. The man is not a saint. She’d better remember that this fund-raiser killed two birds with one stone for Nick.

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