Vital Signs by Bobby Hutchinson Page A

Hailey—women picked up stuff like that right out of the air. How did they do it, anyway? “She’s a rare lady, huh?” Nicole had said on the way home.
    He’d agreed, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. He was also trying not to dwell on the sudden, urgent bolt of desire that had shot through him when he drew Hailey into his arms for that hug. It had taken him totally by surprise. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There’d been that overwhelming urge to kiss her a short while before.
    â€œYou should maybe think about asking her out.” Nicole was watching his reaction; he could feel her eyes on him as he drove through heavy traffic.
    â€œSo now you’ve decided to be a matchmaker?” He grinned at his sister and hoped he was deflecting her. He needed time to think this Hailey thing over before Nicole started probing.
    â€œMaybe you need one. Maybe you need a little shove toward a woman who’s got all the qualities you’ve listed as essential whenever we’ve talked about it.”
    â€œAnd what qualities are those?”
    Nicole ticked them off on her fingers. “You said you want someone who’s not materialistic, someone with the same value system you have, an earthywoman—read sexy there—who’s more interested in social issues than in her wardrobe, and who’s passionate about something besides a new car and her fingernails. And you did say once, remember, that you’d like a woman who wants a family more than a designer home. Well, toots, guess what? Hailey qualifies on all counts.”
    â€œHow do you remember all that stuff? And wasn’t that your list, as well as mine?”
    His sister wrinkled her nose and sighed. “Yeah, pretty much. Although I think I added that it would be nice if he read a book now and then, instead of just watching hockey and waiting for the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated to come out.”
    â€œI dunno, Nick, that’s really stretching the envelope, that thing about the swimsuit edition. I’ve got the date when it’ll be on the stands marked on my calendar in red ink, and so does every guy I know. You don’t think you’re being totally unrealistic here?”
    They’d laughed, and then he’d dropped her off at her condo, and now he was sitting at his desk, staring at the pile of files he’d brought home to work on. But it was hard to concentrate on anything but Hailey.
    How, exactly, did he feel about her?
    He liked her, he knew that for sure. He respected her. He liked the way she went about her life, with single-minded determination and a whole lot of guts. He admired the way she was with her young patients. He was amazed at what she’d done with thatdilapidated house. And he couldn’t stop looking at her legs today in those denim shorts she’d worn.
    It was probably her legs that had caused the hard-on that forced him to sit down in her kitchen. The intensity of it had taken him by surprise, because he hadn’t been thinking of her in sexual terms right at that moment. He’d thought he’d just been enjoying her as a unique and interesting person.
    That’s a crock, Zedyck. You’ve had a buzz on over her for a while now. You know damn well you’d like to take her to bed.
    And what about this fostering thing? Could be a big conflict of interest there, son. Remember the rule about never sleeping with a client?
    She wasn’t a client, he reminded himself. David Riggs was his client. And there was no way he would ever recommend Hailey as a foster parent if he had the slightest doubt that she was the best person for the job. One thing for sure, he’d write the letter he’d promised her and make certain it got to the right people.
    She loved that kid, no question about it. And God knew David needed all the love he could find—every kid did. It was a perfect match, an ideal placement. So why did he have the gut feeling