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reminded himself as he referred the patient to neurology for a CAT scan, than being bored. Fortunately, that damn sure wasn’t going to happen tonight.
    The driver of the car that had struck the cross-dressing dancer was still pacing the waiting room when Molly came to assure him that the patient was going to survive with a minimum of injuries.
    â€œThank God.” He took both her hands in his. “I’ve been so worried.”
    â€œI can certainly understand that.” Molly smiled her professional caretaker’s smile. “But you can go home now and sleep easy.”
    â€œSleep.” He thrust his hands through his hair. Hewas a good-looking man in his mid-thirties. “Lord, I doubt if I’ll sleep for a week, after this.”
    â€œIf you’d like, I can ask the physician on duty to prescribe a sleeping pill for you. Just for tonight.”
    â€œNo.” He shook his head. “I’ll be all right.” He took another deep breath. “I want to thank you, Nurse…” He glanced down at her name tag, which, due to security measures lobbied for by the female employees of the hospital, had only her first name along with the alphabet soup of initials representing her numerous professional credentials.
    He tilted his head and studied her. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look much like a Margaret.”
    â€œMy friends call me Molly.”
    â€œMolly.” He considered that a moment. “That’s much better. Do you have a last name?”
    â€œMcBride.”
    â€œAh.” He nodded. “I can see the emerald isle in your face, Molly McBride. My mother, Mary Keegan, was black Irish. I should have recognized those lovely blue eyes and dark hair right away.”
    â€œYou had other things on your mind.”
    â€œTrue. But the day I fail to notice a beautiful woman is the day I need to reassess my priorities. My name is Patrick Nelson.”
    The conversation was getting more than a little sticky. Molly pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Well, it’s a very busy night, Mr. Nelson, and I’d better get back to work—”
    â€œWould you have a drink with me when you get off shift, Molly?”
    â€œI’m sorry, but—”
    â€œA cup of coffee, then. Or a glass of eggnog. It’s Christmas,” he reminded her. “I transferred down here from San Francisco last month and don’t know many people. I’ll also admit to being so desperate for company that I’m throwing myself on your mercy.”
    Patrick Nelson seemed sincere. And nice. Which left Molly feeling a bit like the Grinch about to steal his Christmas. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
    â€œIf you’re involved with someone, that’s all right. I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t find you very attractive, Nurse Molly, but if you just want to share some friendly, platonic conversation, that’d be great, too.”
    From the flirtatious, masculine gleam in his eyes, she suspected he was looking for more than mere conversation. “Mr. Nelson—”
    â€œPatrick,” he reminded her.
    â€œPatrick.” She decided the best way to handle this was to just go straight to the point. “I’m a nun.”
    â€œA nun?” His gaze swept over her, from the top of her unruly dark hair down to her shoes, stained with blood spatters. “Jesus—I mean, Jeez,” he corrected quickly, “talk about a waste.”
    This was not the first time Molly had heard that statement. She understood that much of the world found women who’d chosen to sacrifice worldly pleasures mysterious. What she’d never figured out was why so many men seemed to take a woman’s decision to live a celibate life personally.
    â€œI’m afraid we’re in disagreement about that, Mr. Nelson.” She patted his arm. “Have a