Got Your Number

TO BREATHE. Angora pushed the nurses' call button several times in succession, but she knew they wouldn't come. They hated her. "Nurse!" she yelled, although it came out a hoarse whisper. "Nurse!"
    The door to her private room opened, and Mike Brown peeked around the corner. She rolled her eyes—the man was undoubtedly the most annoying little boy she'd ever met. And although she was grateful for his legal advice, the hayseed act was wearing a bit thin. She'd heard more about running a "soybean-slash-corn" farm than she ever wanted to know. Tractors. Tillers. Pickers. Plows. Ugh .
    "I brought you magazines," he said, holding up a bulging plastic bag.
    She gave him a begrudged smile—she had requested magazines, after all. "Thanks."
    He walked in, wearing overalls of all things. And not Tommy Hilfiger. " Progressive Farmer ," he said, plopping the bag down on the bed next to her. "I had a year's worth saved up."
    "Er, thanks."
    "Is there anything else I can get for you? I have to go home for the evening milking, so I can't stay long." His baby fat made him look young and shiny. "But I'll be back tomorrow."
    She batted her lashes. "Can you find a nurse to add painkiller to my IV so I can get some sleep tonight?"
    He dimpled. "I'll see what I can do." He left the room, landing heavily on his workbooted feet.
    Laying her head back, she stared at the ceiling tiles and wondered what Trenton was doing and if he'd heard of her major illness. If she'd known how much attention a hospital stay would get her, she would've landed this gig sooner. A gallbladder was a small price to pay to have rattled even Dee, who had sounded almost motherly on the phone when she'd called to break the grim news about the operation she needed. And the secondary infection she'd contracted was a bonus. "Complications," her chart read. It had at least kept the police at bay, and the get-well bouquets coming—from her parents, her former boss at the art museum, Mike Brown, and Roxann.
    Roxann . She sighed, This entire situation surrounding Carl's death was a big fat mess. At least the bruises were fading. She wanted to act as if it hadn't even happened, and Mike was eager to go along. He'd had her tested by a sandal-wearing talk-doctor from the university and seemed satisfied with whatever the woman had told him. She, on the other hand, found it hard to put faith in a woman who didn't shave her legs.
    But back to Carl—the perv deserved it, she'd decided. Maybe a few female students would be spared her humiliation and heartache. The universe was in balance, as far as she was concerned.
    She heard footsteps, which gave her just enough time to fan her hair out on the pillow. But it was only Mike, smiling and mopping at his forehead, which was perpetually moist. "You're not due another painkiller for two hours, Angora."
    "That's unacceptable," she croaked, clutching at her midsection. He disappeared again, then returned in a few minutes. "One hour. I made the nurse promise she'd give you another in one hour."
    She smiled prettily. "Thank you."
    His eyes shone. "You're welcome."
    "Is the guard still at my door?"
    "Yes, but he said he hadn't seen anyone who matched the description of the Cape fellow that your cousin is so worried about."
    A commotion sounded in the hall, and they exchanged wide-eyed glances. Angora hunkered against her pillow and Mike armed himself at the door with a vase of roses.
    "No, get the one with the carnations in it," she hissed.
    He switched the vases, then stood poised in the doorway to wallop the bad guy. The handle turned and he pulled back, coming close to whopping Dee in the mouth.
    "Mother!" she whispered, truly surprised. She held out her arms weakly, but didn't lift her head because it was more pitiful, and she didn't want to mess up her hair.
    Dee glared at Mike and his weapon, then swept into the room. "Darling, your father and I came as soon as our tennis tournament ended."
    Angora conjured up a weak smile. "You shouldn't have come all this way just to see me."
    "And why not?" her father boomed, then shot a pointed glance toward Dee. "We should have been here sooner."
    "Why is there a guard outside your door?" Dee asked.
    "Um, it's a long story."
    Her mother pursed her heavily coated mouth. "Make it short."
    Angora's mind raced furiously. "Well...there is a murderer on the loose."
    "Of that professor you told me about on the phone."
    "Right. I, um, bid for a date with him at a charity b-bachelor