Read Online Johnston - Heartbeat by Joan Johnston - Free Book Online
Authors: Joan Johnston
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door open, then turned to look at him. “Oh, and Jack . . .”
“What?”
“Don’t go to sleep tonight. You might not wake up.”
Chapter 5
Maggie was chagrined that for the second time in two weeks she was running late. This time, she was tardy for SAG’s Monday morning Bioethics Committee meeting, where she acted as counsel for the hospital. That was a problem because the chair, Roman Hollander, was never late. The meeting always started on time and latecomers had to catch up as best they could. Maggie had never like playing catchup.
She bypassed the crowd at the elevator and headed up the stairs to the second-floor conference room. She was wearing a black double-breasted Nieman Marcus knit with gold buttons and a tuxedo-fronted white silk blouse. If she had to confront Jack Kittrick sometime during the day, and she did, she wanted all the armor and ammunition she could muster.
Maggie had spent the rest of the endless night after she left Jack’s house trying to decide whether to keep his secret or tell Roman what was going on. She had tossed and turned, plagued by vivid memories of the Texas Ranger’s potent kisses. She had spent a groggy day Sunday doing housework and laundry and thinking unaccountably-and constantly-about having sex with Jack Kittrick.
When her alarm had gone off at 6 A.M. this morning, she was still suffering heart palpitations from an incredibly vivid dream, but she was too keyed up to linger in bed. She had climbed into her jogging shorts and shoes for her usual five-mile run, determined to sweat Jack Kittrick out of her system.
Maggie was halfway out the door when she had turned back around, grabbed the kitchen phone, hit the button for a frequently dialed number, and waited for the call to be answered.
“Jack Kittrick is a Texas Ranger,” she blurted. “He’s looking for somebody killing kids in the ICU with potassium chloride.”
She listened impatiently, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes. “Easy for you to say. He wants me to help him with his investigation.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I suppose it makes sense to help him. At least that way I’ll know everything he knows.”
Maggie hung up the phone and headed out the door for her run. But the conversation had left a bad taste in her mouth. She hated the secrets, all the sneaking around. To make matters worse, Jack Kittrick struck her as the kind who always got his man . . . or woman . . .
Maggie had run out of time after she’d showered to dry her hair completely. She’d put it up in a French twist and pulled a few wisps free, but it felt heavy on her head. She had just stepped through the stairwell door onto the second floor of the hospital—a little breathless because she’d decided to haul up her skirt and take the stairs two at a time—when a voice stopped her.
“You’re a disgrace.”
Maggie had learned to expect the insult every time her mother-in-law—former mother-in-law—addressed her, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. She pulled down the skirt that was hiked halfway to her hips, turned, and faced her nemesis. “Good morning, Victoria.”
Maggie struggled mightily, and frequently failed, to achieve the “old money” look Victoria seemed to manage effortlessly. Of course, Victoria cheated. She really was “old money.” Victoria Cobb Wainwright had been rich and privileged from the day she was born.
Despite Maggie’s personal feelings about the woman, she couldn’t help admiring Victoria’s perfect, blond coiffure, short and off her forehead, the pearl studs in her ears, the soft rose Chanel suit bearing a simple pearl and diamond bow-shaped Cartier pin, the dyed leather heels from Italy, and the matching clutch purse caught beneath her elbow. Victoria didn’t have a wrinkle anywhere-not even on her face.
“I’m in a hurry, Victoria. The meeting’s about to start,” Maggie said.
“I know. I’ve agreed to serve another term on the committee myself.”
Maggie
“What?”
“Don’t go to sleep tonight. You might not wake up.”
Chapter 5
Maggie was chagrined that for the second time in two weeks she was running late. This time, she was tardy for SAG’s Monday morning Bioethics Committee meeting, where she acted as counsel for the hospital. That was a problem because the chair, Roman Hollander, was never late. The meeting always started on time and latecomers had to catch up as best they could. Maggie had never like playing catchup.
She bypassed the crowd at the elevator and headed up the stairs to the second-floor conference room. She was wearing a black double-breasted Nieman Marcus knit with gold buttons and a tuxedo-fronted white silk blouse. If she had to confront Jack Kittrick sometime during the day, and she did, she wanted all the armor and ammunition she could muster.
Maggie had spent the rest of the endless night after she left Jack’s house trying to decide whether to keep his secret or tell Roman what was going on. She had tossed and turned, plagued by vivid memories of the Texas Ranger’s potent kisses. She had spent a groggy day Sunday doing housework and laundry and thinking unaccountably-and constantly-about having sex with Jack Kittrick.
When her alarm had gone off at 6 A.M. this morning, she was still suffering heart palpitations from an incredibly vivid dream, but she was too keyed up to linger in bed. She had climbed into her jogging shorts and shoes for her usual five-mile run, determined to sweat Jack Kittrick out of her system.
Maggie was halfway out the door when she had turned back around, grabbed the kitchen phone, hit the button for a frequently dialed number, and waited for the call to be answered.
“Jack Kittrick is a Texas Ranger,” she blurted. “He’s looking for somebody killing kids in the ICU with potassium chloride.”
She listened impatiently, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes. “Easy for you to say. He wants me to help him with his investigation.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I suppose it makes sense to help him. At least that way I’ll know everything he knows.”
Maggie hung up the phone and headed out the door for her run. But the conversation had left a bad taste in her mouth. She hated the secrets, all the sneaking around. To make matters worse, Jack Kittrick struck her as the kind who always got his man . . . or woman . . .
Maggie had run out of time after she’d showered to dry her hair completely. She’d put it up in a French twist and pulled a few wisps free, but it felt heavy on her head. She had just stepped through the stairwell door onto the second floor of the hospital—a little breathless because she’d decided to haul up her skirt and take the stairs two at a time—when a voice stopped her.
“You’re a disgrace.”
Maggie had learned to expect the insult every time her mother-in-law—former mother-in-law—addressed her, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. She pulled down the skirt that was hiked halfway to her hips, turned, and faced her nemesis. “Good morning, Victoria.”
Maggie struggled mightily, and frequently failed, to achieve the “old money” look Victoria seemed to manage effortlessly. Of course, Victoria cheated. She really was “old money.” Victoria Cobb Wainwright had been rich and privileged from the day she was born.
Despite Maggie’s personal feelings about the woman, she couldn’t help admiring Victoria’s perfect, blond coiffure, short and off her forehead, the pearl studs in her ears, the soft rose Chanel suit bearing a simple pearl and diamond bow-shaped Cartier pin, the dyed leather heels from Italy, and the matching clutch purse caught beneath her elbow. Victoria didn’t have a wrinkle anywhere-not even on her face.
“I’m in a hurry, Victoria. The meeting’s about to start,” Maggie said.
“I know. I’ve agreed to serve another term on the committee myself.”
Maggie
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