Читать книгу Wedding Date With The Army Doc - Lynne Marshall - Страница 9
ОглавлениеCHARLOTTE DIDN’T WANT to admit she’d picked the Capri blue patterned sundress only because Dr. Hilstead had liked her turquoise top on Friday, though the thought had entered her mind while searching her closet for something to wear on Sunday morning.
It had been a long time since she’d even considered wearing a dress cut like this, which made her feel uncomfortable, so she’d compromised with a white, lightweight, very loosely knit, three-quarter-sleeved summer sweater. To help cover the dipping neckline, she chose several strings of large and colorful beads. On a whim, she left her hair down, letting the thick waves touch the tops of her shoulders and making no excuses for the occasional ringlet around her face. And this shade of blue sure made her caramel-colored eyes stand out.
With confidence, later that afternoon, she stepped into the St. Francis of the Valley atrium, which connected to an outdoor patio where dozens of doctors had already begun to gather. At the moment she didn’t recognize a single face, all of the residents looking so young and eager. But there was Antwan with a young and very attractive woman on his arm. Relieved he wasn’t alone, she glanced around the cavernous room.
She recognized several large painted canvases and they drew her attention to the bright white walls as she realized the ocularist down the hall from her office, Andrea Rimmer, had painted them. In fact, she’d bought several of her early paintings at an art auction because she’d loved her style so much, but these paintings were signed with a different name because Andrea had married a pediatrician, Sam Marcus, so her name had changed now. Anyway, the paintings of huge eyes peeking through various openings were amazing, each iris completely different from the next, and Charlotte was soon swept up in imagining their meaning.
Totally engrossed with admiring the newest paintings of her current favorite artist, she jumped when someone tapped her shoulder. That flutter of excitement flitted right on by when she realized it was Dr. Dupree.
“You’re looking extra fine today,” he said, making a show of looking her up and down.
“Thank you. Where’s your date?”
“Getting some refreshments.” His line of vision stayed on her chest. “All those necklaces remind me of the Caribbean.”
“They’re just some beads I threw on, that’s all. Oh, look.” She really wanted to divert his interest from her chest. “Your lady friend is searching for you.”
“If I didn’t assume you’d have a date today, I would have asked you myself.”
“I’m here as the representative of the pathology department. This garden party is all business for me.”
“Such a shame. If you ever want to actually have a good time, let me know. You don’t know what you’re missing until you’ve gone out with me.”
Seriously? “If this is any example of how you treat your dates, count me out. Now go spend some time with the very attractive woman you’ve brought. Shoo.” She used her hands to shoo him away, like the pest he was. Man, it ticked her off how he treated women as interchangeable objects.
Frustration and anger interfered with her enjoying the artwork, and though she already really wanted to leave, she had promised Dr. Gordon to be the face of Pathology today. So she forced herself to head toward the refreshment table, where several of the new doctors stood talking among themselves. She glanced up in time to see something to make her get excited. Jackson Hilstead was easy to spot, being a head taller than others in his group, as he moved into the atrium. Charlotte found her smile come to a halt when she noticed that to Jackson’s right was the assistant head of the hospital laboratory, Yuri Ito. His hand rested on her shoulder, like he was guiding her. Obviously they’d come together.
Why had Jackson asked if she was coming to the party if he was bringing a date? Her previous excitement turned to disappointment, making the thought of eating sour on her tongue. What else was new? Why had she even let herself follow her fancy in the first place? Antwan may have been right about the surgeon. Maybe he was as much of a lady’s man as Dupree. What was up with surgeons?
Halfheartedly, she moved on to the buffet and picked a few items to pretend she was busy, rather than try to make eye contact with Jackson. What was the point? She greeted a few of the new residents, introducing herself and inviting them to stop by anytime for a quick tour of the department. The two young women and one guy all seemed very receptive, maybe even a little too enthusiastic. The dip may have looked great but it tasted bland, matching her mood, since eyeing the tall surgeon with Yuri, but she forced herself to partake.
Another tap on the shoulder sent her heart skittering once more, until she turned to face Antwan again. How did he keep ditching his date?
“Here,” he said, handing her a glass of punch. “You’ll like this—it’s for grown-ups. And it reminds me—”
“Let me guess—of the Caribbean? Evidently everything does today.” She took the drink and sipped, pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste with a kick, as it was definitely a grown-up beverage. “Thanks.” She forced a smile and received a much-too-eager grin in return. The sight made her eyes immediately dance away in time to connect with Jackson’s where he stood a few feet away.
“Hi,” he said, over the crowd.
“Hello,” she mouthed back.
Jackson couldn’t miss Antwan standing right beside her, which was probably why he quickly looked away. But she’d been clear with him about having nothing going on with Dr. Dupree, and hoped he’d believed her. Which further proved that looks could be deceiving.
So much for getting all dolled up for a man. Except Antwan seemed to appreciate her efforts. Backfire! “Oh, look, there’s your date. Isn’t she one of the new surgical residents? I’m going to introduce myself.”
Antwan’s smile faded quickly, and that brought hers back to life as she made her way over to the pretty African-American doctor across the room. She particularly enjoyed watching the too-sure-of-himself doctor squirm.
As the afternoon wore on and she got to know a few of the new batch of residents, who’d just begun working at the hospital July first, she secretly kept tabs on Jackson, who never left Yuri’s side, though it sure didn’t seem like they had much to say to each other. As in her case with Antwan, could looks be deceiving there, too?
Don’t get your hopes up. She felt the urge to adjust her specially made bra but fought it. This further proves the uselessness of secret crushes. Oh, they’re fine when you keep them secret, but start letting them out on a rope and disasters like this happened. Reality was like looking into a magnifying mirror. What I see up close is never pleasant.
She glanced up to find Jackson watching her, and, as crazy as her thoughts had been seconds before, that mere eye contact from the man she’d let her guard down over got her hopes right back up again. She had it bad for the guy, which meant one thing—she needed to get over it!
When she’d felt she’d spent the obligatory amount of time mingling with the new doctors, inviting them to visit Pathology, and also with several of her staff colleagues, she decided to skip out, admittedly feeling disappointed. With no chance for witty conversation with her doctor of choice, that Southern charmer who appeared to be taken anyway, there was no point in sticking around another minute. Unfortunately, her path of exit brought her by Jackson and Yuri, who looked like they were edging their way out, too.
Yuri gazed at her, tension in her eyes. “Hi, Charlotte.”
“Hi, Yuri.” No hard feelings. Yuri was a nice woman. “See you Monday.” She scurried on by but not before someone tapped her on the shoulder. A third time! That Antwan didn’t know when to give up. She swung around, less-than-kind thoughts in her mind and probably flashing in her eyes, to see Jackson’s laid-back smile.
“You going already?”
Switching gears fast, she skidded into sociable. “Oh, uh, yes. Got a big day tomorrow, with Dr. Gordon’s surgery and all. Well, you obviously know that.”
“Yeah, I’ll be leaving shortly, too.”
Hmm, he’d said “I’ll,” not “we’ll.” Stop it. Don’t continue to be a fool. “Well, good-bye, then. I’ll be ready with the cryostat bright and early. I promise to get those frozen sections cut, stained and read in record time.”
“I’m sure you will. Well, listen, I just wanted to make sure you knew how stunning you look today. I could hardly take my eyes off you.”
Was he saying this right in front of Yuri? What was with men these days? But Yuri smiled up at him approvingly.
“Well, thank you.” Her head was officially spinning with confusion. “I guess.” She glanced at Yuri again, who continued to smile. “Good-bye now.”
Jackson grinned and nodded and let her leave with a wad of conflicting thoughts clumping up her brain. What was going on?
Once she hit the street and got some fresh air, she inhaled deeply to clear her head, then gave herself a stern talking-to. That’s what I get for letting a man get under my skin. I should know better!
* * *
On Monday morning Charlotte came into work early, hoping to see Dr. Gordon in the hospital before he’d been given his pre-op meds. Unfortunately, he already had, but he wasn’t yet so out of it that he couldn’t squeeze her hand and give her a smile and a thumbs-up as they rolled him from his hospital room toward surgery. His slightly intoxicated grin nearly broke her heart.
The vision of him stripped down to a bland hospital gown, with a little blue “shower cap” covering over his abundant white hair, lying on the narrow gurney as the transportation clerk pushed him toward the elevator, made her eyes blur and her chest squeeze. It also brought back sad memories of seeing her mother in the same position years ago, and reinforced why she’d chosen the safety of the isolated pathology department to the hospital wards after medical school.
To distract herself, she stopped at the cafeteria and bought a large coffee, then headed to the basement to her department, where she’d double-check the cryostat before Dr. Gordon’s first specimen arrived.
Jackson planned to send down from surgery a sentinel node for her initial study, and depending on her findings, they would proceed from there.
By eight-fifteen the OR runner appeared in her lab with the first node from Dr. Gordon. The specimen came with exact directions as to where it had been resected and she made a note of that with a grease pencil on the textured side of the first of several waiting glass slides. She carefully put the specimen in a gel-like medium and placed it in a mold for quick freezing in the cryostat. She helped the process along with special fast-freeze spray, then within less than half a minute mounted the fully frozen specimen on the chuck and set up the microtome to her exact specifications.
After dusting the initial cut away from the blade with a painter’s brush, she made the next cut and got the full surface of the node on the microtome then pressed her labeled glass slide to pick it up. She used H&E stain for immediate results since the hematoxylin and eosin stains worked best for her purposes, then placed a coverslip.
Whisking the now stained slide to the lab microscope, she began her study, and soon her hope for a benign node was dashed. Within five minutes of receiving the first specimen, she had to report the bad news over the intercom that connected surgery to her little corner of the world. The protocol was not to get into histologic details with frozen sections, instead sticking to a “just the facts, ma’am” approach.
“Dr. Hilstead, this is Dr. Johnson reporting that the first lymph node is positive for metastatic cancer.” The words tangled in her throat, and she had to force them out, refusing to let her voice waver in the process.
“I see,” Jackson replied. “I’ll proceed to the next lymph node. Stand by.”
“I’ll be here.”
* * *
Jackson continued with abdominal lymph node dissection, and she dutifully and quickly made her cryosurgical cuts and examined each and every specimen under the microscope, tension mounting with each specimen. The head of histology poked her head in the door, wearing a sad expression. Word soon spread in the small laboratory section about Dr. Gordon. Charlotte worked on in silence. After three positive-for-cancer lymph nodes, her voice broke as she reported, “This one is also positive.”
A lab tech standing silently behind her in the tiny cryostat room moaned and left, grabbing a tissue on the way out. Dr. Gordon was well liked by his staff because he treated everyone decently, and in Charlotte’s case, taking her under his wing and mentoring her when she’d been a green-behind-the-ears pathologist. She owed so much to him, yet all she could do today was be the bearer of bad news on his behalf.
There was no hiding the fact her findings were tearing her up, and her favorite surgeon must have felt compelled to console her. “We’re almost done here, Charlotte. Just a few more, I promise.”
“Of course.” She recovered her composure, knowing the entire surgical team could hear her over the intercom. “I’ll be here, Doctor.”
And so it went until they found a benign node after six specimens.
* * *
Early afternoon, stowed away in the comfort of her dark office, studying yesterday afternoon’s surgical slides, Charlotte sipped chamomile tea. With her heart loaded down with emotions, feeling like a brick around her neck, it would be a long day that she’d just have to force herself through. She’d had plenty of experience willing herself through days at a time, beginning as a teenager and more recently two years ago after her surgery had been done and she’d had to deal with the reality of her decision. She’d stripped herself of part of her female identity and hadn’t yet figured out how to move forward. Derek’s reaction the first time they’d made love after surgery, his expression when he’d seen her, would forever be tattooed in her mind.
A light double tap on her closed door drew her out of the doldrums she’d been intent on wallowing in. “If it isn’t important, I’d rather be left alone.” She went the honest route, hoping the staff would understand, especially since they all seemed to already know about Dr. Gordon’s diagnosis.
The door opened, and Jackson, ignoring her request to be left alone, stepped inside. He was still in OR scrubs, his wavy hair mostly covered with the OR cap as he closed the door behind him. “I thought you could use a friend right about now.”
Not giving Charlotte a chance to respond, he walked to her desk, took one of her hands and, finding little resistance from her, pulled her to standing like a reluctant dance partner, then into his arms. He hugged her tightly and sincerely and the warmth washed over her like a comforting cloud, all soft and squishy, with every surface of her skin reacting to his embrace in goose bumps. Yes, she did need this, and Jackson had no idea how much it meant to her.
They stood together like that for several moments, her breathing in his scent and finding it surprisingly not sterile-smelling at all, even though he’d just come from surgery. She leaned into his solid body, enjoying it, knowing this was a man she could literally lean on. One of his hands wandered to her hair, as if unable to resist the opportunity to feel it. She liked that he was so obvious about it, and smiled against his shoulder.
Before standing in the dim light and holding each other became awkward, Jackson spoke. “Chemotherapy can work wonders these days. I’ve already got Marv Cohen working on Jim’s case, and I feel that already shifts the prognosis into a more positive direction.”
Who was he kidding, trying to cheer her up? He was talking to a pathologist. She was a doctor from the end-of-the-road department where patients wound up after all the great medical plans hadn’t panned out. The thing that hurt was that she knew Dr. Gordon himself had taught her to think that way. “We have to be realistic, Charlotte,” he’d say. How would he feel when he woke up and got the news?
With all her dreary thoughts, she appreciated Jackson’s desire to make her feel better. But this fight wasn’t about her, it was Jim Gordon’s to fight, and she promised she’d do everything in her power to help him. “I’ll read the slides first thing in the morning, and report directly to Marv, after you, of course, so he can come up with a magic potion and stop this mess.” No matter what, her mother had insisted to the very end, don’t lose hope. Becoming a pathologist had made her cynical.
“I’m sure you will.” His hands slid to either side of her face, fingers gently cupping her ears. Then he studied her eyes. She’d never been this close to him before, and loved looking up into his angled features and, in her opinion, handsome face, into those often world-weary eyes. Distracted by the thickness of his eyelashes, she didn’t see what was about to happen until his mouth lightly kissed hers. Surprising herself, she let him, relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his lips pressing on hers. This kind of comfort she could get used to really fast.
But wait. This couldn’t happen! It meant things, like getting close to another human being again. A man. Which could lead to, well, sex. Which wouldn’t happen because once Jackson found out about her surgery and the fact she’d stripped herself of many a man’s favorite playground, the breasts, he’d be like Derek. Not able to accept her as she was—still a woman, but scarred and different.
The pain from Derek’s walking away had sliced too deep.
She ended the kiss, not abruptly, just not allowing it to go any further. She prepared a quick cover, with a single thought planted in her head since yesterday. “Didn’t I see you with Yuri yesterday?” By his confused expression, it seemed like she had the perfect antidote to stop this kiss cold.
“You did. I was doing her a favor.”
Charlotte was very aware that even though they were no longer kissing, he hadn’t let her out of his arms. “A favor?” Did he really expect her to believe that line?
“She’s got a thing for Stan Arnold.”
“The head of the medical lab?” Trying to picture petite Yuri with tall, gangly Stan made Charlotte smile.
“He would be the one. Apparently she’s had a thing for him for years, and recently found out his wife had dumped him. So she cooked up this plan to make him jealous.”
“I don’t remember seeing Stan at the party yesterday.”
“That’s the joke. Yuri sets up this elaborate plan, me pretending to be her date, and the guy doesn’t show up.” He smiled and shook his head. “She’s got it bad.”
“I guess I shouldn’t listen to everything Antwan tells me.”
His eyes widened, as if amazed she’d listen to anything Antwan said, let alone everything. “Like what?”
“That you’re a ladies’ man, and you’ve dated a lot of women from St. Francis.”
An odd look crossed his face. “Not at all true. I’ve had only a couple of dates since I’ve moved here, no one from the hospital, and once they got to know me, neither lady bothered to stick around.” What was he telling her? Was there a Mr. Hyde to his charming Dr. Jekyll? Before she could delve into that loaded statement, Jackson spoke again. “And by the way, I noticed Dr. Dupree hanging around you a lot yesterday. If you hadn’t already told me you don’t have anything going on with him, I might have thought you were there together.” He’d expertly changed the subject.
“Oh, no! I hope no one else thought that.” She was well aware of still being in Jackson’s arms, and was also dying to know if she’d made him feel jealous yesterday, even though she knew it was pointless, just a little ego bump.
“I don’t really care what anyone else thinks, but I’m relieved.” He kissed her again, this one far from a comfort kiss and sending shivers dripping down her spine. If she’d had any doubt about his interest before, he’d sure proved her wrong now. This kiss felt intimate, like they kissed like this every day, and she liked it. Kissing Jackson shut down her never-ending thoughts and questions, allowing her to stay in the moment and enjoy the soft yet persistent feel of his lips on hers. At first he kissed like a gentleman, but something she did—she’d got carried away and opened her mouth and pushed her tongue between his lips, to be exact—had fired him up. She reeled with the feel of him getting a little wild with the kisses because of something she’d set off. How long had it been since she’d done this to a man?
As his mouth worked down the side of her neck, finding many of her trigger points and setting loose chills, his hands began to wander over her shoulders and down her arms, soon skimming the sides of her chest down to her waist and back up. As much as she was enjoying everything, he’d moved into “the zone” and it shocked her back to reality.
This can’t happen. Not here. Not now. Not ever?
She pulled herself together and stepped back, letting him know they’d crossed a line for which she wasn’t ready. She searched for and found her voice, barely able to whisper the words. “Though this is really nice, it probably isn’t the best way to work out my concerns for Dr. Gordon.”
“Seems like a pretty damn good replacement, though.” Jackson, like the perfect gentleman that he usually had been until about five minutes ago, took a second to pull it together. “I’m pretty sure Jim will be out of Recovery by now. Want to go visit him with me?” It had been spoken as if nothing monumental had just happened between them, like he kissed women in their offices all the time.
“I’d love to.” She’d also love to continue kissing him, but only in her dreams could she have what she really wanted from Jackson. Just like the reality of Dr. Gordon with metastatic cancer, some things weren’t easily worked out.
With more questions about Jackson than she’d ever had before, and a boatload of mixed-up feelings, both mental and physical, for him, she still managed a daring last kiss. She’d call it a gratitude kiss. Granted, it followed a quick hug of thanks and was only a buss of the cheek, but at least it was something.
After graciously accepting her parting gift, and searching her stare for an instant, he headed for the door and she followed him toward the elevators for the post-op ward. Something significant had happened between them. Figuring out what it meant would be left for another time.
Before just now, never in her wildest imagination could she have seen that kiss coming.
* * *
Dr. Gordon’s eyes were closed. The head of the hospital bed was elevated slightly, and the white over-starched sheets seemed to bleach what little color he had from his face. Oxygen through a nasal cannula helped his shallow breathing. The sight of her mentor looking so vulnerable made her stomach burn. She took his hand, the one with the IV, and his eyelids cracked open. He needed a few seconds to focus before he smiled.
“Hello, Jim. Glad to see you survived surgery,” Jackson said, as if he’d had nothing to do with it.
“Yeah, some lunatic tried to kill me today.” His gaze shifted to Charlotte rather than look at Dr. Hilstead any longer, and his tough facade softened as he did.
“How’re you doing?” She could hardly hear herself.
“Besides feeling like I’ve been shot with BBs in my gut, okay, I guess.”
“When was the last time you had pain medicine?”
“I lost track of time a while ago. I’m supposed to push this.” He nodded toward the medicine dispenser attached to his IV pole, which allowed the patient to regulate pain control on the first day post-op. He pressed it. If enough time had passed since the last dose, he’d get more now, which of course would put him back to sleep.
“Can I give you some ice chips?”
“Sure.” He let her feed the ice to him from a plastic spoon, and it struck her how over the past few years he’d spoon-fed her knowledge as her mentor. Helping now was the least she could do. She found a pillow on the bedside chair, fluffed it and exchanged it for the flattened one behind his head, just like she’d learned to do with her mother. He groaned with the movement but let her do it.
Their eyes met briefly. Appreciation, with flecks of hard-won wisdom, conveyed his thoughts. Jackson had probably already talked to him about the findings, and Dr. Gordon had assigned her to the frozen sections for the surgery. They all knew the outcome. There was no point in bringing it up.
She tried to keep sadness from coloring her gaze as they shared a sweetly poignant moment, almost like father and daughter. Emotion reached inside her and gripped until her throat tightened and she feared she’d start to cry. She inhaled as reinforcement. “You probably feel like sleeping.”
He let her use the excuse, squeezed her hand one last time and let her go. “Thanks for coming by.”
“I’ll be back later, okay?”
He nodded, snuggled back on the pillow and shut his eyes again.
Jackson guided Charlotte at the small of her back from the bedside out the door to the nurses’ station. “He knew before going in what the likelihood was of his having mets.”
She hated this part of her job, verifying the worst outcome. Seeing her mentor’s tired face just now, looking nothing like the strong head of the department she’d always looked up to, had knocked some of the air from her. She gulped and the swelling emotions she’d tried to ward off with little bedside tasks took hold. Her eyes burned, and her chest clutched at her lungs. Memories from nearly twenty years ago threw her to the curb, and she broke down.
Jackson swept her under his arm and walked her to a quiet side of the ward, back near the linen cart. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee, okay?”
Trying her best to get hold of her runaway feelings, she nodded and swiped at her eyes. He handed her some nearby tissues, and she used them. Then, with his arm around her waist, he led her back to the elevator, which they had all to themselves.
“I didn’t realize how close you are to Jim.”
“He’s been like a father figure to me. I lost my mother to breast cancer when I was fifteen, and my dad a few years after that. Dad just couldn’t go on without her, I guess. I still miss them.” Jackson’s grasp tightened around her arm. “Dr. Gordon pretends he’s an old grump, but I knew the first time I met him that he was a teddy bear. I guess I let him step into that vacant parental role. I don’t know what I’ll do—”
“Don’t go down that path. We’ve got a lot of options at this point.”
She nodded, further composing herself in preparation for their exit from the elevator. “My mother’s missed diagnosis and subsequent illness was the reason I went into medicine and pathology.”
“I wondered why a beautiful woman like you had chosen that department.”
His honest remark helped lighten her burdens for the moment, and she smiled. He thought she was beautiful? “Do you think I’m ghoulish?”
It was his turn to grin, which definitely reached his eyes, and he laughed a little, too. “I can safely say you and that word have never come to mind at the same time.”
“Whew.” She mock-wiped her brow. “Wouldn’t want to make the wrong impression.” Because I really like you.
They entered the cafeteria and, taking the lead, he grabbed a couple of mugs and filled them with coffee, after verifying with caffeine or not for her. Then he picked up a couple of cookies on a plate, and after he’d signed off on the charge, they went to the doctors’ seating in a smaller and quieter room than the regular cafeteria. Leading the way, he chose a table and removed the items from the tray then waited for her to sit before he did. Yeah, a take-charge gentleman all the way.
“You feel like talking more about what tore you up back there?” He got right to the point.
She inhaled, poured some cream into her coffee and thought about whether or not she wanted to revisit those old sad feelings about her parents any more, and decided not to. “I’m good. Just worried about Dr. Gordon.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I understand.”
She hoped her gratitude showed when their gazes met. From his reassuring nod she figured it did. She accepted a peanut-butter cookie and took a bite. “Mmm, this is really good.”
He picked his up and dipped it in his black coffee before taking a man-sized bite. His brows lifted in agreement. “So,” he said after he’d swallowed, “since we’re going to change the subject, I have an observation. I’m thinking you might be dating someone?”
Her chin pulled in. “Why would you think that?” Hadn’t they been making out in her office earlier?
“You put a quick stop to our...” He let her finish the sentence in her mind, rather than spell it out.
She lifted her gaze and nailed his, which was, not surprisingly, looking expectant. He was definitely interested in her, which caused thoughts to flood her mind. She’d gone through a long, tough day already, and it wasn’t even two o’clock. She’d once again seen firsthand how things people took for granted, like their health, could change at any given moment. It made her think how much more out of life she longed for. Shouldn’t she grab some of what it had to offer, especially when it, or rather, he, was sitting right across from her, dunking his cookie like it was the best thing on earth? Instead of day in and day out spending most of her time with the biggest relationship in her life, her microscope?
But would Jackson want her as she was? Admittedly, she’d always been proud of her figure, never flaunting herself too much but not afraid to show some cleavage if the occasion and the dress called for it. Now every day when she showered she saw her flat chest, the scars. There wasn’t anything sexy about that. Yet she was a woman, lived, breathed and felt like a woman, but one who strapped on her chest the symbols of the fairer sex every day before she came to work. Pretending she was still who she’d used to be.
The decision had seemed so clear when she’d made it. Get rid of the tissue, the ticking time bomb on her chest. Never put herself in a position to hear the words that had devastated her mother’s life. You have breast cancer.
Because of lab tests and markers, she’d thought like a scientist, but now she had to deal with the feelings of a woman who was no longer comfortable in her body.
Then there was tall, masculine and sexy-as-hell Jackson sitting directly across from her, smiling like he had a secret.
She bet his secret was nowhere as big as hers. “You took me by surprise earlier.”
“I took myself by surprise.”
She liked knowing that the kiss had been totally spontaneous. “So, since you asked, I’m not seeing anyone. Today’s just been hard. That’s why I—”
“I understand.” His beeper went off. He checked it. “Let me know when you’re leaving later and after we pop in on Jim again I’ll walk you to your car.”
It wasn’t a question. She liked that about him, too. “Okay.”
Except later, when Jackson walked her to her car, after visiting the hospital and finding Dr. Gordon deeply asleep and looking like he floated on air, Jackson reverted to perfect-gentleman mode. No arm around her shoulder or hand-holding as they walked. Whatever magic they’d conjured earlier had worn off. He simply smiled and wished her good night, told her to get some rest, more fatherly than future boyfriend material, and disappointingly kept a buffer zone between them as she got into her car.
As she drove off, checking her rearview mirror and seeing him watch her leave, his suit jacket on a fingertip and hanging over his shoulder, looking really sexy, she wondered if he’d had time to come to his senses, too. Something—was it her?—held him back. Then, since she knew her secret backward and forward, and how it kept her from grabbing at the good stuff in life, she further wondered what his secret was.
