Fresh Disasters (Stone Barrington 13) - Page 92

She met him at the door, still wearing her scrubs, and a delicious smell wafted through the apartment. “What was that about a garage? Did you drive up here?”

“Yes. Didn’t you have time to change after work?”

“I’m only wearing the top half of the scrubs; makes a great apron. There’s something a little more alluring underneath.”

“I can’t wait to see it. Something smells great, besides you.”

“That’s dinner. Why did you drive instead of taking a cab?”

“I wanted to be sure I wasn’t followed.”

“Don’t worry; I don’t have an angry ex-boyfriend.”

“Why do you mention that?”

“What I meant was, nobody will be following you because you’re seeing me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, because I have a client who has an angry ex-boyfriend, and that’s who I thought might be following me.”

“I’ve never understood this stalker thing,” she said, “though it seems to be common enough.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Come into the kitchen, and I’ll get you a drink.”

He followed her through a handsomely furnished apartment to a surprisingly large kitchen, where several pots were bubbling away on a big stove. She seated him at a counter and handed him a bottle of Knob Creek to open. “From what I’ve seen, you don’t drink anything else. I can’t seem to get it open.”

Stone set down the two bottles of the Masi Amarone, then pulled the string that cut the wax seal and opened the bourbon bottle. “One for you, too?”

“I’ve already made myself a martini,” she said, pouring one from a silver shaker into a frosted glass.

They touched glasses and sipped.

“I’m impressed that you’d tackle such a big meal after a hard day at the hospital.”

“I had the day off,” she said. “I work twelve-hour shifts four days a week.”

“That’s still a forty-eight-hour week.”

“Don’t worry, I get paid for it.”

“How long have you worked the ER?” he asked.

“Always. My specialty is emergency medicine. I’m deputy head of emergency services now.”

“You must like the work.”

“I love it. It’s different every day, and I like its decisiveness. You either save a patient or lose him; it all happens fast. I don’t have to watch patients die a lingering death, and we save most of them.”

“I see your point.”

“We’ll be ready to eat in just a few minutes,” she said. She busied herself with setting a table on the other side of the kitchen, while Stone opened the first bottle of wine and tasted it.

“You approve?”

“I certainly do,” he said, offering her a sip.

“Mmmmmm. Big wine!”

Tags: Stuart Woods Stone Barrington Mystery
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