The stretcher wheels made a steady dull rumble on the tile floor. Feeling a little like a gangster’s moll, Kay let her eyes flicker in Mitch’s direction. His face…well, he didn’t look much like a gangster, but beyond that she wasn’t exactly reassured.

His hair was Irish black, silky blue-black, brushed back. One of his eyebrows seemed slightly higher than the other, adding character to his features…but his face already had plenty of character. The man had known pain. His skin was wind-weathered and ruddy with vitality, but the network of lines around his eyes was deeply embedded, and something had etched a jagged V between his brows.

Still, he had the most beautiful eyes. Old eyes, haunted with experience, dark and emotional. His face was angular, with a very straight nose, a clearly defined chin and cheekbones, a broad forehead.

And his smile was utterly disarming. A slow, lazy twist of his lips totally captured her attention, until she realized the smile was directed at her. He had caught her studying him; he was amused. And those wicked eyes just kept on looking.

Kay averted her own gaze. One would almost think she was nervous, the way her pulse was suddenly thumping in her throat. Well, maybe she was, but not because some stranger had the sexiest eyes this side of the Rockies. It was simply fear of getting caught with the gurney.

No one paid them any attention until they reached the nurses’ station. Kay held her breath as they wheeled close to the Formica counter. Rhoda’s eyes lifted up. Then her body did the same.

“Mitch? What the devil are you up to now? You just take that stretcher-”

“Sssh.” Mitch raised one finger to his lips and wheeled on past her.

“That leg was swollen this morning-”

“It’s up on four pillows.”

“You have that child back in his room in ten minutes!” the nurse hissed furiously after him, but Kay could hear the laughter in her voice. Obviously, it was at least unofficially all right for Peter to be out of bed for a short time. And Mitch was not unknown to Rhoda.