A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) Read Online Free Page B

Whirley Nursing Home.”
    Valerie looked at her watch. “This will be the last one I can sit in on, because my mom’s appointment with Dr. Thaxton is at four.”
    “All right.” Pam checked her own watch. “We’ve got a few minutes before he gets here, so this might be a good time to think inside the box.”
    “Good idea.” Valerie opened the rectangular leather box on her desk and removed two foil-wrapped orbs. They savored their chocolate truffles in silence until Valerie’s administrative assistant called to say Thomas had arrived.
    After replacing the phone receiver, Valerie put her hands together in the prayer position and raised her face skyward. “Dear God, please give us something we can work with.”
    The second Thomas walked into her office, Valerie vowed to put an extra $20 in the collection plate the next time she went to church.
    While not hunkaliciously handsome, he did have the kind of well-groomed appearance and polite smile she knew the old ladies would love. The hint of aftershave, wavy brown hair, and cleft chin were just frosting on an already nicely built cake.
    Thomas handled himself well throughout the interview, and after he left, Valerie and Pam high-fived.
    “We’re on our way, Tonto.” Valerie grabbed her coat and shoulder bag. “Just a few more like him and we’ll be up and running in a couple of months. I’ll call you later to see how the rest of them went.”
    “Why don’t we just clone Thomas?” Pam asked.
    Valerie laughed as she sailed out the door. Wriggling into her coat, she braced for the wet April chill as she rushed down the hall. Just as she reached the outside door, it swung open.
    Her stomach plummeted when she saw the man who stood there. He truly was hunkalicious, but she knew he didn’t want a job. He wanted his wife.

Chapter 3
    Helen applied her lipstick the way a pastry chef would decorate petit fours, then assessed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Not bad for an old hag.”
    She turned off the bathroom light and ambled into the kitchen, grateful the ankle didn’t bother her nowadays unless a low-pressure system was moving in. “So today’s the big day, Stanley. But don’t you worry. No young whippersnapper could ever take your place.”
    Raising the shade above the kitchen sink, she spotted a Baltimore Oriole on the back feeder. “Oh! That’s the first one we’ve had this summer.” She surveyed the backyard. “The grass is growing well. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to mow it anymore? That little Heffernan snot does a decent job, but he charges me—”
    The phone rang, and she reached it by the third ring. “Hello?”
    “Morning!”
    “Hi, Lorraine.”
    “Is he there yet?”
    “No, I told you he’s not coming until nine.”
    “Oh. Aren’t you excited?”
    Trying to sound bored, Helen said, “He’s just a home helper, not Prince Charming.”
    “How do you know? You haven’t even seen him yet.”
    “If he looks like Paul Newman, you’ll be the first to know.”
    “Well, call me as soon as he leaves. Oh! I almost forgot the most important reason I called. You know that Charlie fellow who just joined the seniors’ group? With the handlebar mustache? Tall, a little chubby?”
    “Oh, yes.” How could she forget? He was the only halfway decent-looking man to join the group in years.
    “He was at the lunch yesterday, and he was asking about you.”
    “Me?”
    “Yes! I think he’s sweet on you.”
    “But . . . I barely spoke to him at that Memorial Day barbeque.”
    “I told him you used to be an actress, and that you could have made it big if you hadn’t met Stanley.”
    “Oh, heavens, Lorraine, that was 60 years ago.”
    “So what? How often do you get an opportunity like this? You’ve got to strike while the hormones are hot.”
    “Oh, Lorraine,” Helen chuckled. “I hope you didn’t give him my phone number.”
    “Of course I did. I’m telling you, single men his age are as rare as grateful children.