My Forever Valentine: New Zealand Happy-Ever-After Romance (Due South: A Sexy New Zealand Romance Book 5) by Tracey Alvarez Page B
Authors: Tracey Alvarez
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an appointment?”
Shaye glanced down. Her 1950s-style trench coat had caught on the sink edge, gaping open to reveal her lace-top stockings, inches below the hem of her very short white skirt.
Oh, cinnamon sticks!
She tugged the coat closed. “A girl could do worse than snag herself a gynecologist.”
Mrs. Peacock snorted, sticking her hands under the automatic dryer. “Wonder what your intended would have to say about that?”
Shaye’s eyebrows shot up. How the heck had she…?
“ Ward on Fire , chickie. You and Del Westlake are the talk of the hospital.”
“Crapola.” Shaye shoved the lip gloss into her handbag. “We’ll never hear the end of that damn TV show.”
“Probably not, but because I’m still a believer in true love, I’ll pretend I don’t know you’re planning to sneak into Mr. Westlake Junior’s room.”
“Thanks.”
“Give me two minutes, and I’ll distract Nurse Brown at the front desk. You can slip past, and then you’ll be home free. Just keep the noise down, and don’t let him get too, er…excited.” The nurse wriggled her eyebrows and left.
The seconds ticked by on Shaye’s watch with excruciating slowness.
“Three…two…one...” She slipped the strap of her backpack which held her change of clothes—like hell would she wear this outfit on the ferry ride over—on her shoulder. “Time for some patented Shaye Harland ninja moves.”
She ducked out of the restroom, and, keeping her back to the wall, edged along to peer around the corner. The corridor stretching ahead remained deserted. Perfect.
Only sneaking down the corridor would be trickier than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t a lot of options if a nurse or aide should appear—other than barging into some poor patient’s room and scaring them half to death.
So don’t get caught, Shaye-Shaye.
Shaye’s ballet flats squeaked on the linoleum as she hustled her butt toward Del’s room. Thankfully, the heavy swinging doors separating the main corridor from the ward where Bill and Del were didn’t squeak as she eased through.
True to the older woman’s word, the nurses’ station was empty, but Shaye still crouched down and duck-walked under the line of sight of the reception desk. Soft voices drifted out of the glass-walled room behind the desk.
Thank you, Mrs. Peacock.
She bustled past Bill’s closed door—less than forty-five minutes before visiting hours started again. Outside Del’s room, her chest heaved, her heart galloped, and bubbles of anticipation popped in her stomach.
Forty-five minutes was just long enough for what she had in mind.
***
The door to Del’s room hissed open. He remained facing the window, looking out at the churning clouds and spots of rain splattered on the glass.
“Good thing you’re not still wearing that hospital gown that showed off your spectacular ass to all the nurses.”
His heart-beat exploded into a frantic thunder the moment his ears registered the first few syllables spoken in Shaye’s snarky, adorable voice.
Without turning away from the window, he fired back, “I’ve already flashed it by accident to half the surgical staff downstairs. My ass and I are quite famous.”
He turned, and there she stood. Long nutmeg-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, pretty pink gloss on her pouty lips, hands on her coat-covered hips, slender calves covered in…nylons? There was a skirt under the voluminous folds of the coat?
His eyebrow twitched up. Hmm .
For the first three days during and after his surgery, she’d stayed in Invers so she could be at his bedside. She’d had to return to Due South to relieve their staff yesterday and today, but on each day she’d spent at his side she had worn casual shorts or leggings. Because who wanted to sit around a hospital room in their Sunday best, right?
Del mentally shook his head. He didn’t give a crap what she wore. Shaye was here . He crossed to her, grinning, he was sure, like an imbecile. “You’re
Shaye glanced down. Her 1950s-style trench coat had caught on the sink edge, gaping open to reveal her lace-top stockings, inches below the hem of her very short white skirt.
Oh, cinnamon sticks!
She tugged the coat closed. “A girl could do worse than snag herself a gynecologist.”
Mrs. Peacock snorted, sticking her hands under the automatic dryer. “Wonder what your intended would have to say about that?”
Shaye’s eyebrows shot up. How the heck had she…?
“ Ward on Fire , chickie. You and Del Westlake are the talk of the hospital.”
“Crapola.” Shaye shoved the lip gloss into her handbag. “We’ll never hear the end of that damn TV show.”
“Probably not, but because I’m still a believer in true love, I’ll pretend I don’t know you’re planning to sneak into Mr. Westlake Junior’s room.”
“Thanks.”
“Give me two minutes, and I’ll distract Nurse Brown at the front desk. You can slip past, and then you’ll be home free. Just keep the noise down, and don’t let him get too, er…excited.” The nurse wriggled her eyebrows and left.
The seconds ticked by on Shaye’s watch with excruciating slowness.
“Three…two…one...” She slipped the strap of her backpack which held her change of clothes—like hell would she wear this outfit on the ferry ride over—on her shoulder. “Time for some patented Shaye Harland ninja moves.”
She ducked out of the restroom, and, keeping her back to the wall, edged along to peer around the corner. The corridor stretching ahead remained deserted. Perfect.
Only sneaking down the corridor would be trickier than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t a lot of options if a nurse or aide should appear—other than barging into some poor patient’s room and scaring them half to death.
So don’t get caught, Shaye-Shaye.
Shaye’s ballet flats squeaked on the linoleum as she hustled her butt toward Del’s room. Thankfully, the heavy swinging doors separating the main corridor from the ward where Bill and Del were didn’t squeak as she eased through.
True to the older woman’s word, the nurses’ station was empty, but Shaye still crouched down and duck-walked under the line of sight of the reception desk. Soft voices drifted out of the glass-walled room behind the desk.
Thank you, Mrs. Peacock.
She bustled past Bill’s closed door—less than forty-five minutes before visiting hours started again. Outside Del’s room, her chest heaved, her heart galloped, and bubbles of anticipation popped in her stomach.
Forty-five minutes was just long enough for what she had in mind.
***
The door to Del’s room hissed open. He remained facing the window, looking out at the churning clouds and spots of rain splattered on the glass.
“Good thing you’re not still wearing that hospital gown that showed off your spectacular ass to all the nurses.”
His heart-beat exploded into a frantic thunder the moment his ears registered the first few syllables spoken in Shaye’s snarky, adorable voice.
Without turning away from the window, he fired back, “I’ve already flashed it by accident to half the surgical staff downstairs. My ass and I are quite famous.”
He turned, and there she stood. Long nutmeg-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, pretty pink gloss on her pouty lips, hands on her coat-covered hips, slender calves covered in…nylons? There was a skirt under the voluminous folds of the coat?
His eyebrow twitched up. Hmm .
For the first three days during and after his surgery, she’d stayed in Invers so she could be at his bedside. She’d had to return to Due South to relieve their staff yesterday and today, but on each day she’d spent at his side she had worn casual shorts or leggings. Because who wanted to sit around a hospital room in their Sunday best, right?
Del mentally shook his head. He didn’t give a crap what she wore. Shaye was here . He crossed to her, grinning, he was sure, like an imbecile. “You’re
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