Читать книгу A Stallion's Touch - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 13

Chapter 3

“Paging Dr. Boudreaux to Radiology. Dr. Tarah Boudreaux to Radiology!”

Tarah paused in jotting notes onto a patient’s chart. She was at the tail end of a twelve-hour shift, exhausted, hungry and unable to fathom who was paging her or why.

A nurse she recognized but didn’t know by name nodded in her direction, the older woman smiling warmly. “Do you want me to call down and tell them you’re on your way, Doctor?”

Tarah shook her head, taking a quick peek at the pager that had also vibrated against her hip. “No, someone’s anxious for my company. No point in putting it off.”

The other woman nodded, extending her hand in greeting. “Dana Harding, CRNA. I’ve heard great things about you. I look forward to working with you, Dr. Boudreaux.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you saying so.”

Tarah’s pager vibrated a second time. She placed the patient chart back onto the counter. As a soft exhalation escaped her lips, a hint of annoyance furrowed her brow.

The other woman chuckled softly. “Good luck with that,” she said.

Tarah laughed with her, her name sounding over the intercom yet again. “Sounds like I’ll need it,” she said as she headed in the direction of the building’s elevators.

Minutes later she stepped into the radiology center, hurrying toward the area’s nursing station. Before she could ask who and where, the nurse behind the desk pointed her toward an office door.

With a light knock, Tarah pushed her way through the entrance and into the office space. Dr. Thaddeus Harper, Chief of Neurology at Phoenix Hope Surgical Center, stood staring out the window to the parking lot below. His hands were folded together behind his back, and he appeared to be in serious thought. He was tall and lean, his physique slim with the barest hint of muscle tone. He wore an air of wealth and accomplishment like a shroud, the abundance of it swathing every aspect of his personality. It was steeped in arrogance, and out of all the doctors in the hospital, he was probably the least liked. But he was a brilliant surgeon, considered to be the top man in his field, and that, in and of itself, garnered him much respect.

He turned as Tarah entered the room, and his face lifted with glee, the creases that edged his eyes hinting at a smile. “Dr. Boudreaux! You weren’t with a patient, were you?”

“I’d just finished checking Mr. Siler’s vitals. He’s out of ICU and doing extremely well.”

The man nodded. “Dr. Forest would have joined us but he’s been called into a meeting,” he said, referring to the head of radiology whose office they were in.

Tarah stood at attention as the man continued, her fingers clasped together, her shoulders pulled back.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Barton twins?”

Tarah nodded, and her eyes widened. She felt her heart begin to beat a little more rapidly. There weren’t many in the area’s medical field who didn’t know of the Barton twins. Oscar and Henry Barton had been born a year earlier at the Phoenix Women’s Hospital. They were joined at the chest wall and abdomen and shared a liver and intestinal tract. Physicians around the nation had been consulted about their pending separation, and it was rumored that a well-known celebrity had volunteered to cover the family’s medical costs. The proposed operation would involve specialists from pediatrics, plastic surgery, cardiovascular surgery, urology, liver transplant surgery, orthopedic surgery and neurology. It would take close to two days from start to finish. Every doctor and intern Tarah knew hoped to be a part of the team selected. Tarah nodded. “Yes, sir! I have.”

“Good.” He pushed a stack of medical files in her direction. “Make sure you know everything there is to know about our patients. You’ll be assisting me in the operating room. We begin practice runs tomorrow morning. The operation will take place next week. I will be reassigning all of your other patients until further notice.”

Tarah fought to contain her excitement, wanting to jump up and down with joy. Her eyes were wide, misting slightly. “Thank you, Dr. Harper!”

“You’ve earned it, Dr. Boudreaux. Your work ethic is admirable, and everyone here in the hospital has taken notice. I look forward to you being part of the team.” The barest hint of a smile pulled at the man’s thin lips.

Tarah’s grin was a mile wide. “I won’t disappoint you, sir,” she said as she nestled the file folders comfortably in her arms.

He gave her a dismissive nod. As she turned to make her exit, he called her name.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you available for dinner tomorrow night? I’d like to discuss the case in greater detail with you.” He hesitated for a brief second. “If you have time?”

Tarah paused herself as she eyed the man. She finally smiled, tossing him a quick nod of her head. “I appreciate the invitation, Dr. Harper. I look forward to it,” she said softly.

This time the man’s smile was wide, showcasing his picture-perfect veneers. Before he could comment further, Dr. Forest rushed through the door. He tossed them both a look, then directed his attention to her. “Dr. Boudreaux, welcome to the team!” he exclaimed.

Tarah grinned. “Thank you, sir!”

“Dr. Harper has a lot of faith in your skills, Tarah! That says a lot. The hospital is excited to have you on board.”

Tarah cut an eye in Dr. Harper’s direction, his face shifting back to his usual stoic expression. His gaze had narrowed, something cold and empty seeming to seep from his blue-green eyes. Despite the respect Tarah held for the man, she understood how everyone found his mechanical nature off-putting. She turned back to Dr. Forest. “I won’t disappoint, sir!”

With a tilt of his head, Dr. Forest turned his attention toward his colleague, the two men falling into conversation as Tarah exited the room. When the door closed behind her she jumped up and down, sheer joy gleaming across her face. Her excitement spilled out of every pore. The nurse at the desk stood with the telephone pressed to her ear. She laughed as she gave Tarah a thumbs-up. Dancing back toward the bank of elevators, Tarah didn’t know who to call first, but she was anxious to share her good news with her family.

* * *

The rest of Tarah’s day could not have gone any better. By the time she found her way home, she was exhausted but so amped with adrenaline that she’d actually considered going back to the hospital to work another shift. The only thing to stop her was having to be bright-eyed at seven o’clock the next morning to start working with the surgical team on the strategy that would change the lives of the two young boys and their parents.

As she pulled into the circular driveway, a wave of loneliness swept over her. She paused for a quick moment to take in the magnificent plantings and rolling landscape of the forty-acre compound. Her brother Mason’s Arizona home sat high on Mummy Mountain with panoramic views of the city and the mountains. Citrus trees lined the driveway, and a mountain waterfall could be seen cascading in the distance. It was one of the prettiest places Tarah had ever known, but living on the impressive estate by her lonesome had started to wear thin.

The first year of her internship, she’d had three roommates. Two had since married and moved out, and the third had been evicted after throwing an unauthorized party that had left her owing her brother Mason money for the damages. Afterward she’d followed her sister Maitlyn’s advice and had opted to go it alone since help wasn’t needed with the housing expenses. She had her family to thank for that, and although she considered her brother’s generosity a blessing, she knew her parents considered it a curse of sorts that continued to keep her spoiled.

Moving into the home, she disengaged the alarm system, then sauntered into the kitchen to make a cup of hot tea. The light on the answering machine was blinking for attention, and after she’d put a kettle on to boil, she pushed the play button to listen to her messages.

“Hey, baby girl! It’s Kendrick and Vanessa. You really need to answer your cell phone or at least reply to the messages. You still have a cell phone, don’t you? We just wanted to say congratulations. We know you’ll do great. Give us a call when you can. Love you, little sister.”

“Tarah, baby, call your parents, please. Senior says he’s coming in next week to check on you, and I need you to call the landscaper so he can be around when your daddy gets there. Now don’t forget, Tarah! I love you, honey!”

“Um, uh, yeah, Tarah, wow! You still have a house phone! I don’t know why, but I thought I was calling your cell number. Anyway, it’s Nick... Nicholas Stallion. I hope you’re doing well. You were on my mind, and I thought I’d give you a call to say hello. Okay...well...give me a call when you can.”

“Hey, it’s me again. Nick. I forgot to give you my number. It’s...”

Tarah laughed out loud as Nicholas called off the ten digits to reach him. He repeated the number three times to be sure she had it. After jotting the phone number down, she deleted all the messages, then turned back to her teapot.

She hated to admit it, but she’d thought about Nicholas often since spending time with him over the Christmas holiday. Celebrating New Year’s Eve alone in the hospital ICU with a patient who’d come through brain surgery had kept him in the forefront of her mind. That night she’d wondered who he’d kissed when that silver ball had dropped to signify the midnight hour. Since then, she’d been questioning why she hadn’t heard a word from him.

She had considered calling him but had talked herself out of it. Men like Nicholas had a host of women chasing after them, and she wasn’t interested in being part of the pack. Besides, calling him would have required reaching out to one of her siblings, or his, for his number. She didn’t need any of their family in her business that way. When another two weeks had passed with no call, she’d filed him away as interesting but unavailable. And now here he was, calling her.

Moving toward her bedroom, she dropped down onto an oversize recliner, pulling a cotton blanket over her legs and file folders into her lap. It was about darn time she heard from him, she thought as she sipped herbal tea from an oversize mug. And as she thought about calling him back, she couldn’t wait to ask him what had taken him so long.

* * *

Nicholas opened the glove box of his car and tossed in his cell phone. He took a deep breath, hesitating briefly before finally closing the compartment door. He had tried to reach Tarah four times now, and each time he’d gotten her voice mail instead. He had yet to hear her voice, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t returned his calls. The silence had him feeling some kind of way. Every woman Nicholas had ever been interested in always called him back.

Twisting in his seat, he reached into the back and grabbed his gym bag. He sighed, then exited the vehicle and engaged the car alarm. As he moved from the parking garage to the entrance of the team’s training facility, fans and groupies asking for his autograph and vying for his attention besieged him.

Although he appreciated their interest, his mind was elsewhere, and he breezed right past the crowd, barely bothering to nod his head or acknowledge any of them. He ignored the catcalls, and as someone snapped his photograph, he imagined the headlines that would surely ensue about his attitude.

He had become notorious for what the media called mood swings and what sports enthusiasts had labeled bad behavior. Admittedly, his responses to the stress associated with the game hadn’t always been stellar, but few people truly knew him or his heart. Nicholas had learned early on that despite the boatloads of money and time he donated to the numerous organizations he supported, it was the tantrums and flagrant outbursts that kept his name in the headlines and the cameras focused on him. That, along with some seriously impressive plays on the football field, kept his name in everyone’s mouth. It had become just another part of the game that he’d learned to manipulate and play well. The payoff made him an endorsement gold mine as long as he never took it so far that he was an embarrassment to the team, the league or his family.

As the gym door slammed close behind him, he hurried down the short length of hallway toward the locker rooms. Once inside, he was assaulted by the smell of sour funk. The place reeked of sweat, feet and musk, masked by too much cologne and not nearly enough soap. Nicholas grimaced. Despite the number of times he had come and gone from the space over the years, he had never grown accustomed to the smell.

His arrival was met with amused looks as the whole team turned to stare in his direction. The team’s head coach stood with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyance creasing his brow. Nicholas’s eyes shifted from side to side as he took a swift inhalation of air.

“You’re late, Stallion!” the Marauder coach, Marcus Brandt shouted. “Again!”

Nicholas dropped his bag to the floor in front of his locker. He shrugged his broad shoulders and proffered an apology. “Sorry, Coach. It was unexpected. Something came up.”

“We’re going to the big game, Stallion. If you actually want to play in that game, you need to get your ass here on time!” the man ranted, spewing a lengthy list of expletives at Nicholas. “You’re lucky I don’t fine your ass. I just so happen to be in a good mood!”

Nicholas didn’t waste the breath to respond. He wasn’t moved by the profanity-laced diatribe, and he saw no reason to reply in kind. He himself didn’t cuss, his older brother Noah having told them time and time again that a man who needed to punctuate his point with obscenities really didn’t have a point to make. Neither he nor any of his brothers had ever felt a need to sit around with their buddies and trade vulgarities. And it wasn’t often that Nicholas allowed any other man to swear at him without him putting the fool in check. Coach was an exception to that rule. Despite the exchange, he considered the coach a friend and had much respect for the man and his position. But his body language tightened and his eyes narrowed, an air of indignation rising with a vengeance.

The expression across his face spoke volumes, and the coach suddenly swallowed hard, shifting his gaze around the room to avoid looking directly at the man he was chastising. The tension was palpable, and one of the other players suddenly slammed his helmet against a metal locker.

“Let’s do this!” another teammate screamed, all of them anxious to get out on the field and hit something.

After another two minutes of a pep talk, the coach dismissed the team, and they headed in the direction of the field. He sauntered slowly to Nicholas, who still stood where he’d stopped. The two eyed each other warily.

“Why do you have to bust my chops, Stallion?” Coach Brandt questioned. He stood with his hands on his hips, his eyebrows lifted in query. “You are taking us to the Big Game! The Big Game! You’re one of the best damn players in the league, and you need to be setting an example for all the others. Instead, you’re giving me a hard time!”

Nicholas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He met the look Brandt was giving him with one of his own, wondering why the man felt the song and dance was necessary. Nicholas didn’t always do what was expected of him, but he had never once not done his job and done it well. And Brandt knew that. In the years he’d played for the team, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been late for anything and have more than half his fingers left over. To Nicholas’s chagrin, Brandt often played to the cameras and the other players, needing to laud his position whenever he had an audience.

“You done?” Nicholas finally asked, clearly not impressed.

Brandt lowered his voice. “Hey, you know everyone already thinks I give you too many passes. Just this morning someone was whining about you being the coach’s favorite.”

“Just this morning?”

“Well, maybe not this morning, but I heard it once this week already.”

Nicholas chuckled softly. “I should be your favorite. Me scoring more points and gaining more yardage in a single game is what got you to the championship. Breaking the records I’ve already set is what’s going to win you that championship ring. I know it and so do you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” The man grinned. “So, is everything okay? Nothing we need to worry about, I hope.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Everything’s fine. It won’t happen again. At least, not this season. I can’t speak for next year, though.” He turned to hang the last of his street clothes in the locker, slamming the door closed after pulling a jersey over his head.

Brandt nodded, extending his hand. The two bumped fists, and Nicholas turned in the other direction, following the other players to the football field.