“You bet. Later.”
He ended the call and Rose said, “How long have you been planning this stag night?”
She knew he’d come up with those ideas in the last couple of minutes and he knew she knew. He said, “Weeks.”
Their gazes connected. There was something about this woman that always got under his skin. She wasn’t even in the hospital that much, but he always seemed to be bumping into her with her perfect coolness, her un-mussed beauty, and that sense she gave him that she thought he was beneath her.
He hailed from a Greek immigrant family. So what? Sure, his family never had any money and he’d worked as a waiter in a Greek restaurant to pay his way through school. She had blue blood pulsing through her veins. But no one knew better than a surgeon that when you get past the skin, blood’s pretty much blood.
After gazing at him coolly for another moment, she said, “My brother is a cop. If you need to find a shooting gallery he can probably help.”
He was so surprised he damn near dropped his new smartphone. First, because he’d imagined that if she had a brother he’d manage an investment firm on Wall Street or something rather than go into law enforcement. Second because she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would rush to help a guy in a jam. “Why would you help me?”
She tossed the now empty water bottle into the recycling container. “One day I’ll need a favor. And you’ll owe me.”
