Читать книгу The Doctor's Former Fiancee - Caro Carson - Страница 11

Chapter Five

Lana couldn’t focus on the pink paper hearts that Myrna was sticking on the door to their office. She watched Myrna painstakingly frame the square window that made up most of the top half of the door. Hopefully, a ten-second break from her computer screen was all Lana’s eyes needed.

It didn’t work. When she looked back at the monitor, the numbers quickly began jumping on the screen once more. They blurred before her tired eyes. Maybe she needed reading glasses. Maybe Dr. Montgomery had left an old pair behind.

Her hand reached for the desk drawer even as her eyes filled with tears. The thought of needing reading glasses made her cry, even if Braden MacDowell didn’t.

“Am I that old?”

Lord, she felt it. Old and tired. It was a natural consequence, she was certain, from running for too many days on too little sleep. Packing up in D.C., driving halfway across the country and taking over a department in disarray left no time for rest. Of course she couldn’t focus. She was tired. Not old and tired. Just tired.

But she needed to focus on these numbers. She needed to win another research contract with PLI. Braden MacDowell’s company.

Braden. He was why she felt so old. Six years had passed, but they felt like sixty. Seeing Braden had been a shock, but it was already over, and Lana would be dealing with Cheryl Gassett from now on. Myrna already knew the PLI representative, in fact. It was quite possible that Lana might never see Braden again.

The thought almost made her sad. Braden was part of her lost youth.

Lost youth? She was only thirty-four. This pity party had to stop. She had a job to do.

Lana crammed her feet back into the pumps she’d kicked off. She sat up straighter in her chair and tugged her dress into place.

My completely unsexy, strictly business dress.

What had Braden thought of her severe appearance? Had he wondered what had happened to his former bed partner? Had he thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t been saddled with her as a wife after all?

God, she felt old.

She turned away from the monitor and flipped open the three-ring binder that held the paperwork for the patients in the migraine study. They’d have to be contacted, asked to return early, and their remaining pills—whether active or placebo dummies—would have to be retrieved. Lana ran her finger down the page of names. Instead of numbers, letters jumped and swam on the page. So many people, so little hope for them. How could Braden be so heartless?

He hadn’t always been. She’d been engaged to a man who’d been gentle with the patients in this hospital, gentle with the horses on his ranch, gentle with her when the grueling process of becoming a doctor consumed her life. Then he’d left her and their dream of working together behind, and she’d been heartbroken that her fiancé had been driven by the need to make money.

There was no money in treating migraines, he’d said. Lana trailed her finger down the page, seeing patient after patient who would not be helped because they couldn’t generate a profit.

One name, one name in the entire bunch, jumped off the page, crystal clear, in perfect focus.

Oh, Braden, how could you?

His own mother was about to lose her chance for pain relief. Marion MacDowell had been receiving the active medicine.

Lana glanced at Braden’s card. She’d set it off to the side of her desk. Lana was not supposed to deal with PLI’s president directly, but this Cheryl Gassett did not have the power to keep a study running. Only Braden did.

His mother’s involvement in the study might not be enough to sway him. One patient made no difference to a worldwide corporation, and Braden represented that corporation.

Then again, even Braden MacDowell in pursuit of the almighty dollar might not be able to ignore his own mother’s needs. Maybe Lana could keep the migraine study going.

I regret to inform you that Plaine Laboratories International has decided to end all trials. Goodbye, Dr. Donnoli.

No, that couldn’t be the last word between them.

Lana picked up the phone and dialed.

* * *

“Excuse me, Mom. I need to take this call.”

No matter where he was in the world, Braden’s assistant took all his calls, acting as his gatekeeper. She only picked up on the fifth ring, however, an arrangement that gave Braden the option of answering if he felt it was necessary. As his phone rang, Braden recognized the first digits on the caller ID as being from West Central. It could be Jamie calling. Or Quinn. Or...

“MacDowell,” he answered on the fourth ring.

“It’s Lana. I’d like to set up a meeting. I’ve got more information on that migraine trial.”

Or it could be his former fiancée, suddenly back in his life when he’d decided to let the last memory of her go.

“Go ahead,” he said, standing up from his mother’s dining-room table and walking into the kitchen.

“I’ve got availability every day this week. Is there a particular time that works best for you?”

“I meant, go ahead. I’m listening. Let’s hear your pitch.”

“Now?”

He let his silence answer her. Did the woman not know how business was done? On the spot. At the moment. Around the clock.

“I was calling to set up a future time. We can do this by phone, if you like, but I wasn’t planning on bothering you now, not while you’re traveling to Manhattan.”

“If I weren’t ready to conduct business, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.” He didn’t say he wasn’t on a plane. He did not tell her he was standing in front of his mother’s kitchen sink, watching through the picture window as twilight settled over the distant barn and the even more distant fence line.

Lana spoke evenly, although he was sure his terse response must have irritated her. “I didn’t call to give you a thirty-second canned speech. I am, however, ready to set up a time for the two of us to have an intelligent one-on-one discussion.”

Braden heard the steel in her voice. Lana refused to be intimidated by him. She’d never been intimidated by anyone, he recalled.

Good for her. She was going to need that backbone in her new position, but whether or not she had the chops to run West Central’s research was not his problem. In fact, West Central was not his problem, not directly. As president, he needed to deal with the big picture, not individual research sites.

“Then when you’re ready to present whatever information you feel is necessary,” he said, “call Cheryl Gassett. I’m sure her contact info is in Dr. Montgomery’s records.”

“I realize that the hospital your father founded is no longer worth your time, but I wanted to discuss something that I don’t think your regional rep needs to know.”

Braden almost smiled. He had to give her points for bringing up his father, a blatant but understandable attempt to stir his emotions. In negotiations, when someone was stonewalling, it was possible to break through that wall by engaging that person’s emotions.

Braden had always found it easy to stay detached during business negotiations. Emotions had no place in science. No place in research. Her attempt was useless.

Lana spoke when he did not. “I’m worried about your mother’s involvement in this study.”

Then again, his mother had no place in research, either. He glanced at her as she entered the kitchen. “My mother is ineligible for the study because she’s a relative of a PLI employee. She’s not enrolled in any study that I know of.”

His mother looked surprised. She pointed to her chest and mouthed the question, Me?

Braden raised an eyebrow in question, and she shook her head “no.”

“In addition to being a PLI relation, my mother doesn’t suffer from migraines, so she wouldn’t be enrolled in this study in particular.”

“Regardless, she is a patient in the study.” Lana’s tone was starting to reveal her irritation. Her emotions, at least, were engaged. “She was receiving the active drug, not the placebo. I’m asking you to reconsider. Don’t terminate a study that was benefiting your own mother.”

“The study is not viable whether my mother is involved in it or not. And she’s not.”

He looked toward his mother for affirmation, but this time she only used her hand to imitate a phone held to her ear as she mouthed, Lana?

Of course, his mother would have keyed in on the name Lana. Braden turned back to the window. He needed to concentrate.

“The address for this Marion MacDowell is your ranch, Braden. She does still live there, doesn’t she?”

Braden didn’t answer. His mind was racing ahead to the implications of his mother’s enrollment in the study.

“If she doesn’t suffer from migraines, then why else would she have been given this medicine?”

That was a million-dollar question, indeed. Braden was anxious to get off the phone and find out, but he wasn’t going to tell Lana that.

Lana continued probing. “Your parents were friends with Dr. Montgomery. Would he have been using this study drug to treat your mother for some other reason? What other conditions might it treat?”

Leave it to Lana to figure out the implications so quickly. Braden was burning with curiosity himself. “I’ll retrieve the records from your office tomorrow.”

“I thought you were in New York.”

“My plans changed. I’ll be there tomorrow. Eight o’clock.”

Braden disconnected the call and turned to his mother. She was quick on the trigger. “Was that Lana Donnoli? Are you two speaking again?”

“First things first, Mom. What kind of pills did Dr. Montgomery give you, and why?”

His mother used her hand to wave his question away, making a shooing motion as if his question were an annoying fly that had gotten in between them when she wanted to talk about something else. “Lana Donnoli, after all these years. I’m happy to hear you two have found each other again.”

“Lana and I haven’t found anything. We’re only speaking out of necessity. I need to know if Dr. Montgomery gave you any pills.”

“Out of necessity? What on earth does that mean?”

“It’s business,” he said firmly. “Let’s not get distracted from the subject.”

“Lana Donnoli is the subject. Watch your tone, young man.”

That did make Braden pause. He was the president of PLI. He set the agendas. If he said the subject was Dr. Montgomery, then that was the subject. One thousand employees of PLI would agree. But his mother?

Braden sighed and let himself lean against the sink. “Dr. Montgomery might have given you a medicine that my company was studying. As my mother, you aren’t eligible to be in the study at all. This is serious. Breaches in study protocol can be brought to the FDA’s attention.”

“By whom? I haven’t told a soul.”

“There are more people involved. Lana, for one.”

“Lana wouldn’t tattle on you.”

“It’s not tattling. This isn’t school. This is business. If Lana wanted to use it as a weapon against me—”

“Lana has always been crazy about you. She would do no such thing.”

Braden’s phone was on the third ring. He answered it. “MacDowell.”

“Yes, I know. You hung up on me, Braden.”

Lana sounded angry. Her emotions were engaged, so Braden should have the upper hand. There was, however, nothing to negotiate, certainly nothing that needed to be discussed while his mother glared at him.

“I didn’t hang up on you. We’d concluded our business and we’ll meet tomorrow.” He emphasized the word business for his mother’s benefit. Dang, but she could still give him a look that made him want to squirm. He had an angry woman standing in front of him and an angry woman speaking in his ear. The president of PLI was not quite in control of the situation, and he knew it.

“Braden, I cannot turn any records over to you at eight in the morning.”

“They aren’t your records. They belong to PLI.”

“I’m well aware that your company owns the data.”

“Then you’ll return it upon demand. That’s part of every contract.”

“You can demand all you like, but that won’t make my office door magically unlock at eight o’clock. My assistant won’t be in yet, and she’s the only one who knows where everything is, including the door’s key. I’ve only been in town for a day.”

That was an easy problem to solve. He couldn’t believe Lana needed instructions. “Tell her to come in early.”

He hung up, then rubbed his forehead, mostly to break eye contact with his mother.

“That was Lana again?” she asked. “Be nice. I told you that girl was crazy about you.”

“That girl is not crazy about me. That girl is only speaking to me because she is the head of research at West Central.”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning, apparently. I pulled a million dollars of funding from her today. A million dollars can make people desperate, Mom, and if she wanted to create problems for me with the FDA, she could.”

“She won’t.”

“I’m glad you have such confidence in my ex-fiancée.”

His mother narrowed her eyes.

He hoped he looked innocent. No, Ma, I wasn’t being a smart aleck. Honest.

Braden tried again. “Even if Lana keeps your involvement a secret to the grave, I still need to know why you were being given a migraine medicine.”

“I don’t get migraines.”

“Exactly. The salient question is, what do you get that Dr. Montgomery was trying to treat?”

“I know you are a doctor, but I’ll tell you what I’ve told your brothers. You are not my doctor.”

Despite the topic, his mother was smiling—or rather, trying not to smile. The corners of her mouth were twitching.

Braden’s bafflement warred with impatience. “What is amusing you? This is serious.”

“If you say so, son. Lana Donnoli is back in town, and you want to bring a guest out here for Valentine’s weekend.”

“Not Lana.” Good God, not Lana. Not that heartbreak. His mother had it all wrong.

“Grab a dish towel.” She started scrubbing the pan she’d used to make his chicken-fried steak. “Better yet, go on back to town and see your Lana.”

“It’s business. She can wait until morning.”

She only smiled. “No son of mine would ever be so rude to a lady over the phone.”

“I wasn’t rude. I was businesslike.”

“I’m sorry to spoil your surprise, but I can put two and two together. Lana calls, and you leave the room. When I follow, you pretend to be angry with her and hang up. Tonight, you can’t stay at the ranch, because you are sleeping at the Four Seasons. Here, give me that dish towel and go on to your hotel.”

“No, that isn’t—”

The mother who was supposedly so frail put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a shove toward the door. “I’m delighted that you and Lana are back together. Valentine’s will be wonderful. You don’t have to tell her I figured it out. I’ll act surprised.”

“You’ll be surprised because Lana Donnoli is not the woman I’m planning on marrying.”

She escorted him all the way to the front door, forcing him out of his own childhood home in the gentlest way possible. “Marriage? You’re going to announce a marriage? Sweetheart, that is so romantic. Now go. Lana’s waiting, and I can’t stand to listen to another of these fake fights on your phone.”

Braden realized his phone was ringing. He checked the screen. It was indeed Lana. He let it ring. She could chat with his assistant this time.

“Mom, don’t get your hopes up like this. You’ll be disappointed.”

“Right. Mum’s the word. I’ll be surprised, I promise. Good night, sweetheart.”

Braden had barely gotten his rental car started when his phone vibrated again. It was laughable that his mother thought he might need to fake a phone fight with Lana. They’d had plenty of real ones, burning up the line from Boston to Austin, back in the day. He waited for the fifth ring that would cue his assistant to answer, then enjoyed the silence while he began the long drive down the ranch road.

The phone rang again within seconds.

For the love of—

His emotions were engaged now. This negotiation was breaking down. Phone calls with Lana always had been disastrous.

He answered without taking his eyes off the long ranch road. “Give it a rest, Lana. I’m not going to argue with you all night. Those days are long over.”

There was a moment of silence, which Braden imagined meant Lana was suitably subdued by his show of temper.

A woman’s voice finally spoke. “Lana? Who is Lana?”

Braden let his eyes flick to the screen, although it was unnecessary. Of course, the name and thumbnail photo of Claudia St. James were displayed in full color.

“I’m sorry, Claudia. It was nothing. A business call.”

“It didn’t sound like a business call. Who is Lana?”

Braden sighed in defeat. The drive into Austin was going to be a long one.