Breaking News (6 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Breaking News
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“I know what you're thinking. I really can't divulge patient information, but let's just say this ‘emergency' is here at least three times a week. I believe this emergency was diagnosed with panic attacks. It seems a cardiologist is needed in order to reassure the patient that he or she is not having a heart attack. Now, forget I told you that, okay?”
They were in front of the bank of elevators. Toots knew that the emergency room was farther down the hall and around several corners ahead, but he'd stopped here, and she wasn't going to ask any questions.
“Forget what?” she asked with a smile.
“I like smart women. Did I ever tell you that?” he asked as they proceeded around a corner.
Smiling inwardly, Toots thought about how she really liked this guy.
Really.
And that was not a good thing. No way could she even think about going down
that
path again. Eight times, and she'd worn it out. Nope, she did not see Dr. Becker in her future. She slowed her pace at the next turn. “Look, I really should go. Bernice is probably finishing up and wondering what happened to me. I have her handbag.” She touched the strap to the large white purse hanging from her shoulder.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “No, she has at least another hour. According to what her physical therapist wrote in her chart, Bernice is going to learn the fine art of weight lifting today. It's all part of the usual process.”
Toots didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. Dr. Becker picked up his pace, and she decided to follow him. They turned two more corners and walked down another long hall. Neither spoke, but Toots knew they were close to the emergency room. She heard a blue page code over the main speaker, and before she had a chance to comment, Dr. Phil Becker was gone.
Not wanting to stand out, but curious, Toots slowly made her way down the remaining connecting hallways that led to the emergency room. Rushed footsteps, beeping sounds from the many lifesaving machines, and firm commands greeted her as she rounded the corner. From a distance, she spied a curtained-off area, where she viewed several sets of protective-covered feet as they raced around the small space. Sure this was the room in which the code blue patient was being treated, Toots gave a quick prayer that whoever it was, Dr. Becker could save their life. Knowing what bad shape Bernice was in when they'd admitted her, she had high hopes that the patient would survive with the help of the good doctor. Understanding that it was useless to remain lurking in the hallway of the emergency room, Toots decided she'd best return to the third floor. She could watch television while Bernice did her weight lifting.
The second she decided to leave, she heard her name. “Teresa, wait!”
Only those who didn't know her called her by her given name. She smiled. It sounded much better than Ms. Loudenberry.
She stopped but didn't turn around. Toots felt a hand touch her shoulder, giving her a warm, tingling sensation. She wanted to push his arm away but knew that if she did, either he would think her incredibly rude or—and this was what she feared most—he would think his touch had an effect on her. Slowly, she turned around, making sure her features were completely normal. Hopefully, she wouldn't blush again.
“Sorry to take off like that, but I hear a code blue, and, well, you know what that means?” he asked, a grin on his handsome face.
She could've played dumb and said no, but after burying eight husbands, she would look totally stupid if she did. “I take it the emergency is under control?”
“There wasn't an emergency. That patient I told you about? Seems that he or she initiated the code blue when messing with the instruments above the bed. I calmed the patient down, and now that patient is ready to be released.” He raked a hand through his thick curls. “At least until next week. He took her hand in his and followed the same route as before. “Now, I have to say this before I'm interrupted again. For weeks, I've been dying . . . No, forget I said that. I've wanted to invite you to dinner. Either you're off and running, or I am. So, now that that's out of the way, will you have dinner with me? Tonight?”
Toots felt her heart rate increase, and for a moment she feared she might wind up next to the patient he'd just left. With her hand in his, she called up every power in her not to tremble, not to blush like a teenager. She took a deep, cleansing breath.
Why not? It wasn't as if he was going to ask her to marry him. She could have dinner with a man without it leading to marriage or anything more. She was not like Ida, who hopped into the sack on the first date and wanted a lifetime commitment.
No,
she thought,
I just marry them as soon as they ask. Then I bury them. Marry and bury. Could I be a jinx to men?
“Dinner would be nice,” she answered. Had she just doomed Dr. Becker to becoming number nine?
Unlucky
number nine. No! She was just suspicious of everything these days. She'd have Sophie read for her; maybe she'd reassure her that she wasn't bad luck when it came to men.
Dr. Becker squeezed her hand. “Where would you like to go?”
She thought for a moment, then recalled a new restaurant that had recently opened three doors down from The Sweetest Things. She couldn't recall its name but gave Dr. Becker,
Phil,
the location.
“Okay. I'd like to pick you up and drive you there.” He let go of her hand then. “I'm an old-fashioned kinda guy.”
Of course he is,
she thought. She liked a man with old-fashioned manners. As independent as she was, it was still nice to know there were a few men left who still followed society's unwritten rules. Sophie would croak if he knew her thoughts.
The idea of an evening alone with the good doctor sent her spirits soaring. “That would be wonderful, but I want you to stop calling me
Ms. Loudenberry.
My friends call me Toots.” There was a trace of laughter in her voice.
He threw back his head and chuckled. “I love it! Toots, huh? How'd you end up with that?”
Coming from anyone else, Toots would've been insulted, but seeing the merriment on Dr. Becker's,
Phil's,
face, she was anything but. “Toots. My father started calling me Toots when I was an infant. Said Teresa was a mouthful for such a small girl.” Wistful, Toots smiled at the memory. “I was very young when my father died. He was a great man.” Not wanting to get too personal, she blinked several times in order to keep her happy tears at bay.
“It suits you much more than Teresa.”
They continued down the hall, stopping when they reached the bank of elevators. The doors opened, and they stepped inside. Confined in the elevator for the short ride to the third floor, they both remained silent. The air was electric, so much so that Toots had a brief flash of what it might be like to crawl beneath the sheets with the handsome doctor. Luckily, before she had time to pursue that thought further, the doors swished open.
By then, she knew she was in deep brown stuff.
The buzz of activity on the third floor brought her back to the present. She clung to Bernice's purse strap like to a lifeline. Was she biting off more than she could chew? What would Abby think if she knew her mother was in the throes of having a major case of the hots for Phil Becker? Toots answered her own question: Abby would be thrilled.
“I hope I'm the reason for that gorgeous smile lighting up your face.”
If he only knew. “Oh . . . well, I'm just happy Bernice is finished with her therapy. She's convinced that something terrible is going to happen in the empty house next door. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, she believes that some sort of celestial being said she had to remain on earth to watch that house. Now she can devote all of her time to her ‘project,' as she calls it.” Toots made air quotes with her index fingers.
“She's got a couple more rounds of therapy before I release her. Just make sure she doesn't overdo things. She's come a long way. We wouldn't want her to have a setback.”
Toots stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Could you tell that to her? If I say a word about her doing too much, she tells me to kiss her wrinkled old . . .” She paused. Did she really want Dr. Becker,
Phil,
to see this side of her? Yes, she did.
What you see is what you get.
Nothing phony about her. “Ass.”
He laughed, drawing the attention of two nurses walking past. They both smiled at Toots. Was Phil a ladies' man?
“I'll make sure to tell her to take it easy. I wouldn't want to . . . Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be subjected to kissing anything that's not visible.”
The visual made Toots giggle. “I understand. I haven't had to view her . . . derriere, and with luck, I'll never have to. Bernice is a good soul, though. She's like a sister to me. I couldn't imagine life without her. She's been with me for almost twenty-five years. If not for Bernice, I don't know where I'd be now.” What she wanted to tell Phil was that Bernice had been with her through eight husbands, but she figured since she had yet to go out with him on their first date, it probably wasn't a good idea to bring that up. Maybe later, if and when she got to know him better, but for now, she'd keep her past to herself.
He chuckled, then looked at his watch. “How does seven o'clock sound to you?”
“Perfect, Dr. Becker. Just perfect.”
Chapter 6
S
ince learning that her mother was the face behind LAT Enterprise, Abby Simpson had doled out assignments as she saw fit. In doing so,
The Informer
's sales had quadrupled, and they were now running neck and neck with the
National Enquirer.
They'd surpassed the
Globe
months ago. And Abby couldn't be happier. Though she missed her mother and her three godmothers being in Malibu, Abby knew it was best that they stayed in Charleston in order to monitor Bernice's condition after her bypass surgery. Bernice was like a favorite aunt to her. She'd moved with her mother, her father, and Abby from New Jersey when Abby was only five. She couldn't imagine life without Bernice any more than she could imagine life without her mother and her three godmothers, or the three g's, as she affectionately referred to them.
Tonight she'd been invited to attend the premiere of what Hollywood insiders were calling the movie of the year, a shoo-in for an Oscar and a Golden Globe Award. Sandra Bullock had the starring female lead, with George Clooney as the leading man, in
As Time Goes By,
a love story that took place during the Holocaust.
Abby had splurged on an exquisite Carolina Herrera gown, a two-tone satin gown in Paris Poppy red with a one-shoulder neckline and a mermaid pleated back. She'd had to have a few alterations done, given her petite size. Abby would wear the diamond earrings given to her by her mother for her sixteenth birthday, would carry a small matching clutch, and would wear heels, but that was it. Nothing too flashy for her. She didn't want to be accused of trying to upstage the stars, but she didn't want to show up in some off-the-rack garb from last season, either. She thought that she'd reached a happy medium with her choice.
The icing on the cake—Chris was going to attend the event with her. Wanting to stay out of the limelight as much as possible since his much-publicized nightmare with Laura Leighton, he'd dropped most of his clients, telling Abby he was easing out of entertainment law. Said it was time for a second career. Abby had asked him what he had in mind, but he had yet to reveal any plans to her.
“Woof! Woof!” Chester, her six-year-old German shepherd, barked, letting her know he wanted her attention.
“Yes, I know. You want to go outside.” Abby dutifully opened the French doors that led to her fenced-in backyard, where Chester would watch the squirrels and occasionally give chase, though he never tried very hard to catch them. She'd adopted him from a shelter as a Christmas gift to herself. He'd been her constant companion ever since. When she was working as a reporter at
The Informer,
she would take him to work with her, and when she was on what she thought of as a Hollywood stakeout, she always brought him along for protection. He'd become a permanent fixture at the paper, and she hoped to keep him around as long as humanly possible. He was her very best friend.
Leaving him outside to do his thing, Abby glanced at the clock. It was getting late. She needed to start getting ready for tonight's event. Her dress hung in a plastic bag in the closet; her shoes were still in the box. Unlike most of tonight's attendees, she'd opted to do her own hair and makeup. Besides, she wasn't one for all the glitz and glamour. Abby liked to observe and report, nothing more. But she had to admit that she was excited about tonight's premiere. Not because of the movie's star-studded cast. No, she was excited because it was really the first time she would be attending such an event with Chris as her date.
Since his nightmare experience with Laura Leighton, Chris had treated her like an entirely different person. Especially since they'd admitted their love for one another. She recalled quite clearly the night they admitted this to each other.
Abby had written about Chris and Laura being stranded in a blizzard, though she omitted the part about Laura Leighton wanting to blow up World Con Studios. They'd shared a phone call; then, out of the blue, he'd called her back. She recalled the conversation quite clearly.
She answered on the first ring. “What?”
“Did I ever tell you your telephone etiquette sucks?”
“What?” Abby said again.
“You need to learn how to answer the phone properly.”
“You called me just to tell me that? Chris Clay, have you been nipping at the bottle?”
He cracked up laughing. “Nipping, Abby? What's that? A new Hollywood term for drunks?”
She couldn't help but laugh. “No, Chris, it's not. Now tell me, why are you calling me at this ungodly hour? I have to be at work in a few hours. Unlike some people I know.”
“Didn't you just call me half an hour ago? What's changed, Abby? The dog's not keeping you warm enough?”
“Chris, the next time I see you, I swear I'm going to smack you right upside the head. What in the hell has gotten into you?”
“You, Abby. You've gotten into me. And that's why I called. I couldn't wait another minute to tell you that I love you.”
Abby remembered that it took her a few minutes to get her bearings. She wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.
“Did you hear what I just said, Abby?”
Silence.
“Abby?”
“I heard you, Chris. I heard you.” Abby was breathless.
“And? Aren't you going to tell me what a jerk I am? Call me a few choice names? Smack me right upside the head?”
She was stunned, surprised, and over the moon. Totally over the moon. The three words she'd been waiting to hear from him for longer than she cared to admit. She was over the moon. Big-time. Very, very big-time.
“No, Chris, I don't want to do any of those things to you. What I want is for you to get your butt in that boring Toyota Camry you drive and come out here so I can tell you I love you back to your face.”
“I'm on my way, sweet girl. I'm on my way.”
They'd been practically inseparable ever since, though they'd yet to take their relationship to an intimate level.
Soon,
Abby thought.
Soon.
We've definitely waited long enough.

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