Читать книгу To Save This Child - Darlene Graham - Страница 10

KENDAL EXITED the elevator at the tenth floor, pulling her rolling travel cart behind her, reflecting that sometimes a pharmaceutical sales rep resembled nothing more than a glorified bag lady. Hauling your business around in the back seat of your car, up and down elevators in a silly rolling cart. So much paraphernalia—the cell phone, the pager, the laptop, the PalmPilot, the boxes of samples, the promo items, the paperwork. Kendal’s constant challenge, and one of her chief strengths, was keeping it all organized. From her home office to her company car to the wheelie nipping at her heels, Kendal’s life was a study in constant and careful order. Control, unrelenting control, was the key.

She opened the door of Dr. Jason Bridges’s office and hoped Daylight Deli hadn’t delivered the quiche, pastries and fruit trays yet. The waiting room was empty—a good sign. She wondered what kind of pull Stephanie Robinson had that she could conveniently get a breakfast scheduled on the one morning in a million when Dr. Bridges wasn’t in surgery. A youngish receptionist sat in her chair behind a glassed-in cubicle. Kendal didn’t see Kathy Martinez.

The lobby window rolled open and the young receptionist said, “May I help you?”

“I’m Kendal Collins, I’ve brought breakfast for your office, courtesy of Merrill Jackson.” Kendal gave her an engaging smile and handed the woman one of her business cards.

“Oh. Of course. Kathy!”

A familiar brown face appeared around the window of the reception area. “Kendal?”

“Hi, Kathy! Thanks for calling me last night.”

“No problem. Thanks for coming on short notice.” Kathy Martinez’s black eyes fixed on Kendal. “Now, didn’t you tell me that you’re—” she paused one millisecond before saying the next words as if they had some special significance “—fluent in Spanish?”

“Sí. Cómo le va?”

“Muy bien, gracias.” Kathy chuckled. “Ha estado alguna vez en Chiapas?”

Had she ever been to Chiapas? Kendal’s conversational Spanish was excellent, so she hadn’t misunderstood, but she didn’t get the point of the woman’s question. Still, she kept her cordial smile in place. “No, but I’ve been near there—to the Yucatan Peninsula.”

In her business, any connection she forged might help with future sales. It was all about building the relationship. If she was lucky, she and Kathy might move on to the subject of Paroveen sometime before noon.

“Listen. I need to talk to you about that.” Kathy Martinez clutched Kendal’s arm.

“Okay.” Kendal couldn’t imagine why this nurse, who barely knew her, was acting so excited. Did they need an interpreter for a patient? “But I’m expecting the food trays any moment, and I’d like to get my brochures and samples set out first.”

“Of course. Let me show you to the break room.” Kathy’s smile seemed unnaturally bright.

Kathy led Kendal through a warren of offices and exam rooms, then opened a door to a sparsely decorated room with green Formica counters on three walls and a large round faux-wood table in the center.

Kendal parked her rolling case against a wall plastered with unappetizing anatomical charts and went to work with her usual efficiency.

First, she pulled all the chairs away from the table and lined them up against the wall. She didn’t want people to sit down without looking at her materials. It was better if they moved around.

Then she unzipped the suitcase and whipped out a portable easel. Faster than a magician, she assembled it and set it next to the table. She then pulled out a giant tri-fold poster featuring Paroveen and propped it open on the easel. Lastly, she covered the ugly table with a paper tablecloth—royal purple, Merrill Jackson’s signature color. She’d found a stack of the cloths on sale at a paper goods store and bought the lot. Just the kind of subliminal touch that helped people remember the occasion and your product—and you.

She applied this kind of forethought to her personal appearance as well, lacing her business wardrobe with subtle touches of purple.

She felt a teeny bit puffy today after indulging in the wine and cookies last night, so she’d chosen a crisp black suit with a pencil-slim calf-length skirt and a crisp lavender microfiber blouse. Her only jewelry, save her perennial one-carat diamond earrings and a Merrill Jackson name tag, was a sterling silver lapel pin shaped in the Merrill Jackson logo. She’d been awarded that one for high sales.

The skirt felt a tad snug as she squatted to unzip a low pocket where her brochures and business cards were stashed.

The door to the small room opened and a really good-looking guy in a white T-shirt, leather jacket and snug jeans balanced a trio of long rectangular boxes as he entered the room, tilting his broad shoulders sideways.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” Kendal barely gave him a glance and turned back to her task. “Would you mind taking the food out of the cartons and putting the trays out on that purple tablecloth? I’m running a little late here.”

Kendal was very good at making the most of her time by delegating tasks and soliciting help from others.

“Bossy workaholic,” her sister Kara had called her one time when Kendal had pressed her into stuffing envelopes while they visited.

“Ah. So you want me to quit working so much?” Kendal, already hard at the task, had asked her sister sweetly.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to slow down, you know.”

This, Kendal thought, from the woman whose leisurely days included naps with her toddler while her hardworking husband pulled down six figures.

“Then I guess old Matt wouldn’t mind paying my bills, too.” Kendal knew that was unkind, implying that her sister was some sort of deadbeat, a burden on her poor husband.

But Kara had merely rolled her eyes indulgently at her older sister. “For your information, Matt and I are a team. Matt enjoys taking care of his family. Unlike that weakling you’re hooked up with. The way Phillip insists on divvying up every last cent the two of you spend…that’s not commitment, Kendal honey. And it’s not true love. Don’t kid yourself.”

Kara’s honesty had seemed harsh at the time. But as it turned out, Kendal’s younger sister had been absolutely right about dear old Phillip.

Sensing no movement from the direction of the door, Kendal glanced over her shoulder again. The man with the boxes was still standing there, giving her rearview a once-over.

“You are definitely not Stephanie Robinson,” he said and smiled.

Kendal frowned at him. What an odd thing to say. And because Stephanie was ultra slim, and Kendal was not, and because he was looking at her backside, his implication pricked her pride a teensy bit. All of a sudden she really didn’t care for the way he was looking her up and down. Sort of brash for a delivery boy. She stood and straightened her skirt.

“Stephanie’s not coming,” she explained in a tone that was intentionally frosty. “I’m Kendal Collins, from Merrill Jackson. The McMayer presentation has been canceled.”

“I know.”

“Oh.” She had placed a last-minute call this morning to the same caterer that Stephanie used, figuring they’d be glad to switch the order. Daylight Deli was reasonably priced and located right here in the vast Integris medical complex. They were good, even if their delivery boy was a little rough-looking.

“Then would you mind?” She flipped a hand toward the table. “I’d like to hurry and get set up.” Kendal walked over and quickly fanned her promotional materials on the countertop next to the coffeepot. “The staff will be coming in here at seven.”

“Only if I say so.”

An electric rush zapped through Kendal’s middle. Oh, no. Her eyes fixed on the counter for one split second, then squeezed shut the next as realization turned to horror. People said the elusive Dr. Bridges dressed like a motorcycle punk.

Kendal whirled around, struggling to recover her poise. “Pardon me?” She smiled as if totally confused.

“I’m Doctor Bridges.” He sauntered up to the counter where she stood, and slid the cartons onto the remaining space next to the coffeepot. Then he stuck out his hand.

She took it, hoping hers wasn’t too sweaty with shock. She’d been trying for months to meet the man, and here he was, big as life. Truly big. Even his hands were large. And very warm. She shook his hand while her mind did an instant replay. Had she said anything rude while she’d been assuming he was just an ogling delivery boy? “I-I’m Kendal Collins,” she stammered while he held onto her hand and her heart started to pound. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.”

“No, I don’t think we have. But I’ve heard of you.” He hadn’t released her hand. A fact that screamed through Kendal like a fire alarm. Besides being warm, his hand felt smooth. A by-product of being a surgeon, she supposed. And talk about strong. His clasp was electric with purpose, intelligence, life.

The twinkle in his eye acknowledged that the charge passing between them as he pressed her fingers in his strong, warm ones, was very real. She’d never met a man whose very touch sent an electric current all the way to her toes.

“You have?” He’s heard of me? she wondered. How? She hoped it was in connection to Paroveen.

He nodded, smiling, but didn’t elaborate, which was unnerving, considering that his eyes were raking over her frame like a tiger sizing up lunch.

He stepped closer. He was much taller than Kendal, and she had to tilt her head back as she looked up into his face. “Well…huh—”

His flashing blue eyes, so sparkling and intelligent that they actually made her breath catch in her throat, were scrutinizing her face now with the same avid attention he’d given her figure seconds before. He finally let go of her hand, grinning while he studied her from hairline to chest. He definitely reminded her of a tiger circling a shivering fawn, and he seemed all too aware of his effect on her.

Kendal waved her emancipated hand in the air nervously. “I hope you don’t mind, but when I found out that Stephanie had canceled her breakfast, I offered to bring some food in for the staff instead. So they wouldn’t be disappointed,” she trailed off, “and all.”

“How very considerate!” he spoke with the barest hint of sarcasm.

They both knew why she was here. Kendal imagined his thriving practice was overrun with eager drug reps like herself.

“So. What did you bring us?” He raised the lid off one of the boxes. Kendal could see the tray of expensive pastries, covered with cling wrap. “Not too shabby,” he said as he reached to lift the wrap. “Got enough here for a hungry doc?”

“Afraid not.” Kendal gave his hand a light slap.

He laughed. Then he quirked a smug grin at her, digging around under the cling wrap anyway, and she gave him a wry little smile in return.

“I’d be all too delighted if you’d eat with us,” she said, “since you’re the real reason I’m here.”

“You’re interested in little old me?” He took a bite of a roll.

She smiled at his flirting. “No. Only in your business. Allow me to introduce my latest miracle drug.” She swept an arm toward the easel.

He chewed as he squinted at the giant poster promoting Paroveen. “Always the latest miracle drug,” he muttered.

“But mine really is miraculous. I’m only asking you to give it a try.” She handed him a brochure, then reached around him and slid the box of pastries off the counter. “I’d better get these set out before the staff gets in here.” She often found it prudent to give the docs a moment to read her materials uninterrupted.

But to her disappointment, he didn’t even look at the brochure. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and watched her. “I’d rather hear what you have to say about it.”

She was aware of his eyes following her as she quickly arranged the food on the table. “Okay. I’d love to.”

She spouted a few startling scientific statistics about Paroveen while she pulled out paper plates, forks and napkins stamped with the Merrill Jackson logo from her rolling cart.

When she was finished her spiel, he stuffed the brochure in the pocket of his leather jacket, sauntered over and proceeded to pile food onto a plate. “I’m afraid I’ve got to get back down to surgery, so—” he popped in a grape, then reached for cubed ham “—maybe we can get together some other time to finish discussing your wonder drug.”

Kendal wasn’t sure, but her instincts warned that The Wolf was interested in more than the drug. Maybe it was the way his teeth flashed in that cocky smile right before he bit into a cube of ham.

But she couldn’t pass up the chance to push her product. “Anytime.” She’d worry about his motives after she got his business. For now, she knew she’d only have his ear for as long as it took for him to gobble down that last piece of ham. She had to talk and talk fast.

“You understand that I don’t like switching drugs,” he said.

“I understand, but our studies indicate that every doctor that upgrades to Paroveen gets an eighty percent reduction in edema in half the time. Plus our physician education and support services are outstanding,” she finished in a rush.

“Samples?”

“All you want,” Kendal bargained.

“You’ll personally provide technical support?” He wiped his hands on his napkin and gave her that eager smile again, as if she might make a nice little dessert right now.

“Absolutely. I’ll be available to you twenty-four, seven.” Shoot! Why’d she say it like that?

He smirked. “Day and night? My, my. You are the dedicated one.”

Kendal was about to say something to show that she was totally professional, something that might put this handsome dog in his place, when the door swung open.

“Hello!” As if the smell of food had summoned them, Kathy Martinez and two other nurses, a tall one wearing surgical scrubs and a paper cap and a smaller girl, came waltzing up to the table.

“Hi, doc!” The nurse in scrubs winked at Jason Bridges. “Didn’t expect to see you up here, what with no patients out front.”

“I’m headed down to surgery in a sec.”

“We’ve got a bilateral resection of inflamed parotids,” the nurse in scrubs explained to the shorter one.

“Oh, I forgot about that,” the smaller office nurse said.

Kendal had heard about the complex microsurgery that could take up to three hours. It was exactly the kind of procedure where Paroveen would be a benefit.

“We’re doing the deed right after I have another one of these little muffins. Man. These are good, Miss…tell me your name again?” He popped in a muffin, chewed and frowned at Kendal.

Was he being intentionally obtuse? After all, Kendal was wearing a big purple name tag. She pressed her fingers to it and smiled. “Collins. Kendal Collins.”

“Kendal,” he said, and swallowed.

“Help yourselves,” Kendal told the nurses as she swept an arm over the food trays.

“Kendal—” Kathy started the introductions as the women filled their plates “—this is Mary Smith and Ruth Nichols. Mary’s one of the office nurses. And Ruth is Dr. Bridges’s scrub nurse.”

Mary, nibbling a strawberry, reminded Kendal of an anxious little mouse. She was short, wearing a faded scrub jacket stamped in a teddy bear pattern, had cropped nondescript brown hair and rimless glasses crammed tightly against the bridge of her button nose.

The one named Ruth was exactly the opposite. Even in the baggy surgical scrubs, her tall body exhibited the svelte lines of a supermodel. Even the ugly paper surgical cap did not detract from her beauty. The dusty blue color seemed to merely emphasize the flawlessness of her ivory skin.

“My extra set of hands.” Bridges winked at the attractive young woman. “And my eyes. And my ears. And some days even my sense of smell.”

“Just call me the doctor’s scrub nose.” Ruth giggled and actually tapped a fingertip to Jason Bridges’s handsome nose.

Everyone but Kendal laughed. Apparently this was some sort of inside joke.

“I hope I brought enough food.” Kendal turned to the table, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the couple’s flirting. “How many more people are we expecting?”

“Four more from the office.” Kathy smiled. “This food looks fabulous, by the way.”

“Too bad you just started that nasty old diet.” Dr. Bridges teased his chubby head nurse.

Kathy whapped him on the shoulder and popped a glazed doughnut hole into her mouth.

When Kathy swallowed the treat, Kendal noticed the older lady leaning over toward Dr. Bridges, mumbling something.

From across the table the last of it sounded like, “…about the Spanish.”

Bridges shot Kendal a look bright with interest. In that split second when their gazes locked, Kendal began to understand how The Wolf might have gotten his nickname.

He stepped around the table to her. “Kathy tells me you speak Spanish?”

“Yes.”

“Fluently?”

“Yes.” Kendal frowned.

“Mexican dialects?”

“Yes.” Kendal was not at all sure she liked the way he was looking at her.

“Ever been there?”

“Where?”

“Mexico. Chiapas, specifically. You ever been down there?”

There was that weird question again. “I’ve been to the Yucatan Peninsula a couple of times. To Cancún.”

“Did you go out into the jungle or just lie on the beach?”

“I went to some Mayan ruins…in the jungle. Some remote ones.” Why was Kendal explaining herself to him? But his eyes were boring into hers with such intensity that she could hardly make herself look away, and her answers just seemed to fall out of her mouth.

“I assume you have some medical background?”

“Of course. Anatomy. Physiology. I specialize in surgical physiology and pharmacology.”

“Great! Wanna run away to Mexico with me?”

Behind him, she thought she heard the mousy nurse twitter.

“Not particularly.” Kendal didn’t get it. Run away to Mexico?

“You don’t care for Mexico?”

“Love it. Can’t wait to go back. But…” she trailed off, leaving him to fill in that the idea of going with him was the impediment.

“But not with a guy like me.” His blue eyes flashed with amusement.

Another twitter from the nurse entourage.

“Not even if it was for a good cause?”

“What is this about?” Kendal leaned around his broad form to get a look at the nurses, who obviously knew what the doctor was getting at.

But he leaned imperceptibly also, blocking her view. “I have a proposition for you, Kendal.”

Kendal wanted to say something sarcastic like Be still my beating heart because when a man like The Wolf used a word like “proposition,” her urge to resort to sarcasm was strong. “I hope this has something to do with Paroveen.”

“It does.”

That surprised her. His attitude had been so flippant that she wasn’t prepared for this conversation to lead anywhere serious.

“I’m listening.”

“For three weeks out of the year, every year, I go to Chiapas, Mexico, to work with the local peasants. I do as much surgery as I can on as many patients as I can for those three weeks. You’ve heard of Doctors Without Borders?”

Kendal had. The international relief effort manned by idealistic young doctors had originated in France. They brought medical care to the poor in Third World countries around the globe. Their efforts on behalf of children had always appealed to Kendal’s altruistic side. “I have. The work they do sounds wonderful.”

“My mission is similar. How would you like to be part of that mission?”

“Me? How?”

“Because you speak the Mexican dialects. Because I’ll promise to give Paroveen a thorough clinical trial down there. You can bring a case of the stuff with you. You can keep your own records. Merrill Jackson will love it. They should even get some great PR out of the deal.”

Behind him, Kendal now noticed, Kathy Martinez was smiling broadly, encouraging her. The nurse named Ruth was smiling, too, but with a kind of uncertainty.

“You’re saying you need an interpreter?”

“Absolutely. I speak a little Spanish, of course, and so does Ruth—” he motioned to the beautiful nurse “—but not fluently. The patients are hurting, frightened. They talk fast and the dialect is tricky. A good interpreter is crucial. What do you say? Will you consider it?”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“Next week?”

“Sorry. My regular interpreter got sick. I just found out yesterday.” He shot Kathy Martinez a meaningful glance.

“Isn’t that pretty short notice for getting me on board for a trip to Mexico?”

“You said you’d been there. I assume your passport is still current.”

“Well…yeah, but—”

“The other arrangements won’t be a big deal. Every year, I choose my own team, fly my own plane. We take our own security guard, Ben Schulman from the hospital. All of these nurses have gone down there at one time or another.”

The trio behind him nodded in affirmation.

“Ask them how fulfilling it is to help the poor, to change lives for the better. It will be a perfect opportunity to demonstrate the effectiveness of your new drug in a setting where it is desperately needed. Maybe Merrill Jackson would donate some immunizations, too.”

Kendal didn’t know how the conversation had taken this radical turn from slightly flirtatious to genuinely idealistic, but it had.

“I see. I…I’ll have to check my schedule. And I’ll have to get approval from my company.” But that wouldn’t be a problem, she was sure. Her boss had been very clear—do whatever you have to do.

“Of course.”

“We’d better get downstairs,” the willowy Ruth interjected. She stepped up beside Bridges.

But Jason Bridges stepped toward Kendal, facing her squarely, moving in close with his palm outstretched. “Give me one of your cards,” he said. “I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time to get together and discuss this. I’ll also have to teach you a bit about the types of surgery we do. You’ll end up answering a lot of questions for the patients and families. We’ll have a lot of preparation to do in a week’s time.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” But while she was handing him one of her cards Kendal was thinking, He can’t be serious. Me? On a medical mission to Mexico? In only a week?

He took the card. He glanced at it, then smiled into her eyes again. And again Kendal thought of The Wolf and how thoroughly dangerous it felt to be the object of this man’s attention. Like he could talk you into almost anything. She felt her cheeks heating up and was glad when he turned back to Ruth.

He stuffed Kendal’s card in the pocket of his leather jacket with the brochure, then said to his scrub nurse, “The patient is elderly. Very fragile. No room for screwups. I’d like you to be the one to set up downstairs, not one of those O.R. nurses.”

“Already done.” Ruth favored her boss with a cover model smile and a look of supreme confidence.

“Great. Remind me to give you a big old Christmas bonus.” Jason put a guiding hand to the small of his nurse’s back, and as the two of them hurried out the door his flashing eyes fixed on Kendal one last time. “I’ll talk to you soon, Kendal.”