Midnight Hour by Debra Dixon Read Free Book Online

she sensed that this was important to Nick—despite his casual air—and partly because of the exhaustion she saw creeping into his expression. “That’s some evening you’re planning, Nick. Why didn’t you call the station? They take care of the promotional end. They love good deeds that generate publicity.”
    “Now, there’s a clever idea.” Nick rubbed his eyes with a thumb and index finger as though he couldn’t believe he had to spell it out. “I’ve been trying to convince your station manager for two weeks. To do this thing right, I want the television station to kickin airtime and produce the promos, not to mention letting somebody host your show.”
    “Dan didn’t say anything to me about it.” Mercy frowned, leaned back into the striped pillows, and propped her feet on the edge of the coffee table. “He usually checks with me before turning down a charity request for my help. It’s sort of an unspoken agreement. Are you sure you talked to Dan Harris?”
    “Sounds like Gentle Ben with an attitude?”
    Mercy chuckled. “That’s the one.”
    “In that case, I have had the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Harris. His response was—
Grrrr
.” Nick’s growl was low and menacing. “I took that as a no.”
    Laughing out loud, Mercy acknowledged the similarities between her station manager’s rough, gravelly voice and Nick’s growl. “I’d like to say he isn’t usually like that, but lately I’m afraid he is.”
    “So, what do you say? You gonna help me, Mercy?”
    “Sure,” Mercy agreed without hesitation. “As long as you tell me why.”
    “Because you’re a sucker for a good cause?” Nick tried hopefully, parroting what he’d heard her say on the phone.
    “Wrong. Well, I am a sucker for a good cause. You got that right, but you answered the wrong question. What I want to know is why this is so important to Dr. Nick Devereaux.”
    “You mean besides giving me an excuse to meet
the
Mercy Malone?” he asked as if that privilege alone would be reason enough for a man to face any number of hardships.
    “Stop fooling around, Nick,” Mercy warned, raising her brow. “You’re asking for a big commitment,and all I want to know is why you’re doing this.”
    He rested his eyes for a moment and then dragged them open again, answering her as honestly as he could. “The unit functions, but I feel like I’m spinning my wheels sometimes. Before we even talk about additional medical equipment, you gotta know the physical layout’s all wrong. The medprep is a small—I emphasize small—converted janitors’ supply room. The waiting room’s depressing as hell, and the nurses would give their eyeteeth not to have to tear the place apart to find a blood-pressure cuff small enough to give them an accurate pressure on a six-year-old.”
    Staggered by the very real frustration in his voice, Mercy asked, “Is it really that bad?”
    “Worse. Oh, Mercy Hospital meets all the minimum standards, but there is a world of difference between minimum and adequate. A whole lot more between adequate and excellent.”
    Mercy worried her bottom lip with her teeth and readjusted the topaz ring she wore. Her conscience pinched her slightly because she hadn’t visited the hospital or Sister Aggie in several years. “Will one hundred thousand dollars bring your emergency room up to excellent?”
    “A lot closer,” Nick allowed.
    “What
will
it take?” Mercy pushed.
    “More than we can raise with one fund-raiser.”
    “Fine. We’ll do more.”
    “Hold on,” Nick cautioned. “One step at a time. First, let’s see if we can pull off this one. I don’t want to turn Mercy Hospital into a trauma center. I just want to improve the emergency department that we’ve already got.”
    “What? No grand plan? No ambition?”
    “Not anymore,” Nick said bluntly, his reaction loaded with lessons learned from past mistakes.
    “Sorry,” Mercy said quietly. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
    “Yes, you did.”