Kitabı oku: «Return of the Rebel Surgeon», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER a long, leisurely swim and a nice parboil in the whirlpool, Cole checked his messages before making rounds.

His office manager had made sure his tuxedo was delivered to his hotel room for that night’s special games reception.

He could tell himself he was staying to firm up the partnership, but in reality today’s observance of Dr. Wong in surgery had put all his fears to rest. The lawyers could now go forward without further input from him.

Bella. His own personal temptress. But he was no longer that insecure boy hiding behind bravado. That was what he had to prove to himself. That was why he’d changed his plans. That was why he’d stayed.

He donned his best bedside manner and pushed open the door.

Without a greeting, his patient, Heath Braden, confronted him. “Tell me the truth, Doc. What are my chances of regaining full use of my hand?”

Heath no longer had the grip of a fireman.

Cole made himself look into Heath’s eyes. “Slim. You will be able to do tasks that don’t require as much strength or dexterity as you’ve had in the past, but passing the assessment tests to get back to active duty may not be possible.”

Cole inwardly winced at the fear crossing the young man’s face. He’d seen it time after time—would his loved ones still love him if he wasn’t the man he used to be? Sadly, too often the answer was no, but Heath wasn’t a highly paid athlete with a high-maintenance spouse.

Heath’s wife leaned down to kiss her husband’s forehead. “I don’t love you for your hand. I love you for your heart.”

The emotion between the two made Cole feel superfluous.

He excused himself and headed to the nurses’ station.

Heath’s nurse gave him a rundown of the report. “Mr. Braden’s condition could be easier on him but he doesn’t want to take his pain meds, Dr. Lassiter. He says he doesn’t want his son to see him all drugged up. He wants to be able to focus enough to enjoy his son’s visits.”

Cole understood completely. “The pain meds are for his comfort. Taking them won’t affect the surgery or his recovery as long as he keeps taking the anti-inflammatories. But he will be in quite a bit of pain when he starts his physical therapy rehab. Do we have anyone who could do pain-management counseling with him?”

The nurse nodded. “We have a great therapist on staff who works wonders with biofeedback and hypnotherapy. Her schedule is always booked with a waiting list, though.”

Having enough personnel to go around was always an issue, especially in a teaching-charity hospital like this one.

“Surely she could be convinced to add one more patient to her list. Give me her name and number and I’ll have my staff set up an appointment for Mr. Braden.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re open to cognitive behavior therapy, Dr. Lassiter,” the nurse said as she scrolled through the contact list. “Not everyone is willing to give CBT a chance. But we’ve seen great results as long as the patient trusts and believes in the therapy.”

“I’m open to whatever works.”

The nurse handed him Bella’s contact information on a slip of paper. If Cole had been a fanciful man, he might believe fate was playing tricks on him to throw Bella his way. But it all added up. The hospital sponsored the games and Bella had volunteered, just as he had, to be part of that sponsorship.

Of course, with Adrian, she had a vested interest in the special games. So it was rational, almost inevitable, they would end up in the same medical circles.

The odds of their ending up in the same circle all those years ago had been much higher. And he’d been on the outside perimeter while Bella had been at the center of it all.

He made a quick call to his office manager, giving her Bella’s contact information.

“Monday morning. Make it happen,” he instructed his office manager.

“Yes, Dr. Lassiter. I will.”

He surrounded himself with competent staff, so he could confidently put this problem out of his mind and focus on what was important. But, then, he’d been trying to put Bella Allante out of his mind for the last fifteen years and hadn’t succeeded yet.

As Cole tucked the note in his pocket and turned away, a sharp pain arced through his neck and down his arm. He could use some pain management himself. Could Bella help him work through his pain?

There had to be a high level of trust between a medical professional and a patient, especially with the kind of work Bella did. No, with what they had between them, Bella couldn’t help him. Not if he needed to trust her first.

Isabella’s hands ached from gripping the steering wheel of her sensible fourteen-year-old car too tightly. Consciously, she relaxed, head to toe. Stress would only eat up the little energy she had left after such a long week.

Pulling into the hotel’s parking lot, Isabella pasted on her social smile and summoned up her last smidgeon of energy, hoping it would be enough to get her through the special games recognition and fundraising event.

If she could find reserves for just a few more hours, she could go home and collapse for the rest of the evening. She might even be tired enough to sleep through her worries about Cole and the paternity discussion they needed to have. Or did they, since he had now gone back to New York, where he belonged?

Starting now, she would forget about this week and go back to providing a safe and predictable world for her son. If life was too predictable for her at times, that was one of the sacrifices of motherhood she willingly accepted for her son’s well-being.

When she’d left Adrian in David’s care, he had been fingering his scarf while hugging the framed photo of Cole that usually sat on his bedside nightstand, all the while keeping a steady pace in the gliding rocker next to her bed. His favorite video played so quietly on the television she could barely hear it. His plastic doctor action figure lay next to the television control within easy reach.

She’d been worried about overstimulation from the active weekend so different from their normal routine. And that had just been from participating in the local games. With Cole on the scene, she would have expected Adrian’s reactions to be all over the board.

Instead, Adrian was taking the appearance of his father in his stride while she was struggling to contain her own anxieties.

Take a step back, Bella, she told herself.

She might be borrowing trouble. Cole might have made his once-in-a-lifetime appearance and now be gone for ever and her life could get back to the way she’d organized it.

Illogically, on top of the anger, confusion and relief, that idea made her very sad.

She had explained Cole’s absence to Adrian by telling him Daddy had to work. It was the total truth, and Adrian had understood. Tomorrow, when both she and Adrian were better rested, she would break the news that Cole had gone back to New York.

She wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.

As she had so often since Adrian’s birth, she vowed to live one moment at a time and let the future work itself out—but it was such a hard thing to do for a planner like her.

Tonight Isabella’s job was to work the room, making a subtle plea for donations of time and money to support their local special games, a program her family had always championed before they’d ever had an athlete of their own participating. She recognized most of the faces in the crowd from her inner circle—or what had been her inner circle—as well as from the volunteers who gave so much of their time to make this program work.

Normally she could call up her inner sparkle and zest on demand, but Cole had knocked her off her game.

She smoothed the vintage wool skirt she’d inherited from her mother’s collection of expensive and well-preserved clothing and wished she hadn’t gone with an upswept French twist. Her bare neck made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

From the podium, the local chairperson was giving his standard speech, against a backdrop of happy athletes on a screen behind him. “Three and a half million athletes will train and participate in local games like ours on a state, national and global level. None of this is possible without dedicated volunteers and generous donors.”

While there was no more Allante money to give, Isabella did what she could. One thing she’d been taught from birth had been the social graces that made working a room one of her greatest talents. She just needed to put Cole from her mind, pull herself together and get on with it.

She looked for those not with partners. Group mentality being what it was, a single mixing into a circle of couples took more charm than she had energy to give at the moment.

Being single usually didn’t bother her—or rather she’d been able to bury all her disappointments and regrets. How could she look at her beautiful son and wish her life had been different?

But there were times like tonight, being single in a world of couples, when she felt incredibly, soul-searingly lonely.

She often had to go days, maybe even a full week, without human touch. Although she advised others to make friends with affectionate people, friendships took an investment of time to nurture. If anyone were to accuse her of not being the best at taking her own advice, that person would be right.

Lately, she’d been incredibly busy with her practice. Any time and energy leftover had gone into helping to organize this weekend’s games and fundraiser. Then there had been all the mental work with Adrian so he could ready himself to step outside his routine comfort zone and participate in the games. She could only be stretched so thin.

Thus was the life of a single parent of an autistic child.

But, being a therapist, Isabella knew there was no such thing as a “normal” life. She glanced over at Darla with her practiced expressions of frivolity. One outwardly perfect husband with straight white teeth, a politician’s smile—and a mistress stashed in an apartment downtown that they all pretended didn’t exist.

Then there was Corrine, with her two beautiful, over-achieving daughters, one in rehab and the other fighting bulimia. Corrine, herself dangerously close to being addicted to pain meds, came into her office twice a month, trying to master drug-free ways to control her migraines.

In her private practice catering to the rich and powerful of New Orleans, Isabella knew many of these people’s secrets—

which only positioned her even more squarely on the outside, looking in. She was only able to discuss the most banal of topics lest she reveal confidential information. Always on guard, keeping secrets so that everyone appeared perfect on the outside.

But, then, she’d been trained for pretending to be perfect her whole life. Perfectly poised. Perfectly in control. Perfectly satisfied with her solitary life.

David’s mother had made sure she’d learned those lessons when she’d become Isabella’s mother figure after her own mother had died—except for the solitary life one, of course. The plan had been to marry Isabella to her son. It had been a good plan for a while.

What would her life have been like if her fun-loving mother had conquered the breast cancer that had slowly taken her life?

With all her practice, Isabella should be perfect at not looking back and asking what if? Some nights were easier than others.

She glanced around the room. Perfect couples made up of perfect women and perfect men—at least on the surface.

It would take a bona fide perfect man to want her. A man who saw beneath the surface and accepted her and her son, imperfections included.

No chance of finding that perfect man here tonight.

“Thank you to all our volunteers. There would be no games without you. See how you’ve enriched lives,” the local chairman began, as he gestured to the screen showing the athletes with expressions of determination, victory and joy.

As the chairman continued thanking benefactors and volunteers, Isabella let herself get caught up in the images of the athletes, their coaches and parents. This one hundred percent volunteer organization had given both her and Adrian such support and growth. She was proud to be a part of it.

“… thank Dr. Cole Lassiter for being our attending physician on-site. We had need to call on Dr. Lassiter at the last moment, and he rescheduled his own personal plans to answer our call. Excellent job, Dr. Lassiter,” the chairman said as he initiated applause.

Isabella’s stomach lurched when she heard Cole’s name.

He shouldn’t be here, not in her carefully constructed environment. He should be on his way back to New York.

This was her world. Not his.

All the questions Isabella had been trying to bury deep in her subconscious bombarded her mind, making her head hurt.

One thing was for sure, a gala event was not an appropriate setting to discuss relationship issues and complications. Right now she had a party to get through. One moment at a time.

She tamped all those conflicting emotions down deep and put on her brightest smile. Discreetly, she stood on tiptoe to catch sight of the illustrious wonder surgeon, but she couldn’t spot that wavy black hair across the crowded ballroom.

Instead, she found herself elbow to elbow with Dr. Lockhart, one of the sports clinic’s original partners. By his side was his daughter Madelaine. Isabella had gone to school with Madelaine since kindergarten, where they had disliked each other on first sight.

Dr. Lockhart spotted her first. “Isabella, so good to see you. Do you know Dr. Wong? We’ve recently begun to expand and he’s our newest partner.”

Isabella held out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Thank you for coming tonight to support the games, Dr. Wong.”

“It’s just Wong. That’s what all my friends call me.” Dr. Wong took her hand. “It’s my pleasure. I noticed you when you arrived this evening. If I’m not being too forward, perhaps we could dance later.”

He had noticed her? It felt good to be attractive to the opposite sex. The way Wong held on to her hand a little longer than normal flattered her needy ego. If only she felt the same prickles of awareness Cole had raised in her.

For some irrational reason, knowing Cole could be lurking nearby made Isabella feel like she was being disloyal by even thinking such a thing. It was becoming clearer and clearer that she had some issues to work through—and not only those related to her son.

To counteract her misplaced feelings of guilt, she gave Wong her most flirtatious glance. “I would like that.”

“Isabella’s father was one of the founders of the sports clinic,” Dr. Lockhart told Dr. Wong.

“I remember seeing his name on the plaque in the office waiting room. I understand your father is retired. I would like to meet him. Is he here tonight?” Wong had a nice, easy smile.

“He had a stroke about twelve years ago.” That had been when Isabella had found out about her father’s debt-riddled estate that had become her inheritance and her responsibility.

While she loved her father dearly, his sole passion had been medicine. Anything else, like money or child-rearing, he had gladly relinquished to someone else. At least Mrs. Beautemps had been more scrupulous when overseeing Isabella than her father’s accountant had been when overseeing his finances. Or at least most people would think so.

Since the divorce, there had been no love lost between Isabella and her ex-mother-in-law.

“I’m sorry. You must have been very young then. That must have been difficult.” Dr. Wong touched her arm, a natural gesture he probably didn’t even realize he made but one that felt very compassionate to her.

It should have been the worst year of her life. But the year Cole had left still ranked as number one in that respect.

“I hadn’t realized it had been that long. How is your father doing?” Dr. Lockhart looked concerned—or maybe it was guilty—for letting her father drop off his radar. But Isabella understood. How long could a person be angst-ridden over a lost relationship?

“About the same. Thank you for asking.” Isabella thought of the despondent look in her father’s eyes last Thursday night when she and Adrian had made their routine twice-a-week visit.

She shook off the sadness, as she always did. No sense in worrying about what couldn’t be changed. Neither would gloom and doom raise money for the special games.

Knowing how to change the topic smoothly, Isabella said, “I just love that peachy color on you, Madelaine. It makes your skin glow.”

Madelaine accepted the compliment as her due. “And you look lovely as well. Very retro. Yves Saint Laurent?”

“Oleg Cassini.” Cassini, Chanel and Givenchy had filled the cedar-lined armoires of the Allante plantation home before hurricane winds had torn half the rotting shingles from the roof last spring.

It had been the last straw. Isabella had had to swallow her pride and accept David’s generous offer of one half of his Garden District duplex.

She had to admit that having Adrian’s back-up carer right next door had made the whole ordeal of condemning the old mansion a blessing in disguise. Though it still made her heart sink to see the blue plastic tarps tacked over the leaking roof. Her childhood home, once one of the grand dames of the Garden District, was in such bad shape it wouldn’t bring much at the sheriff’s auction at the end of the month.

“Vintage is so charming.” Madelaine drew attention to her own décolletage by touching the intricate opal creation around her neck. “If you don’t mind me saying, Isabella, I’ll bet your mother always wore pearls with that suit. A double strand would be the perfect accessory for your outfit.”

Isabella chose to think of the huge donation Madelaine’s family could make instead of the society queen’s veiled insult about her vintage clothing and lack of jewelry. She refused to mourn for the magnificent strands of pearls she’d had to sell off, little by little, to pay for her father’s medical bills and nursing-home care, just like she refused to mourn for her childhood home.

“I can always count on you for giving top-notch fashion advice, can’t I, Madelaine?”

Now, while Madelaine’s pride of self puffed out her chest, Isabella should ask for the donation.

A tingle trickled down her spine. A trickle that alerted her that Cole was nearby.

Madelaine spotted him, too. “There’s Dr. Lassiter talking with a big guy by the bar. Dad, isn’t that Benny Luge, quarterback for our favorite team? Benny’s brother, Steve, was in our class in high school. Remember, Isabella? I dated Steve for a while.”

“Yes, I remember.” She also remembered that Steve, Madelaine and their little clique had treated Cole like a second-class citizen.

“Isabella, did you know Benny flew up to New York so Dr. Lassiter could fix his throwing hand last season?”

“No, I don’t keep up with sports, except the special games.”

“Cole’s a good man,” Dr. Lockhart said. “Very generous.”

“I doubt the rates he charges professional athletes could be called charity. I guess he’s making up for all those years of living off free lunches and scholarships,” Madelaine said.

Isabella winced at the snarkiness of Madelaine’s tone. Her first inclination was to defend Cole, as she always had when they’d been in their teens. Although she had been pathetically shy, mean-spiritedness toward Cole had been the one thing that could make her stand up to a crowd. But Cole didn’t need her defense, did he?

So why did Cole still bring out the fire in her when she wanted him to have no effect on her at all?

Dr. Lockhart looked over his glasses at them both. “You probably haven’t heard, since Dr. Lassiter keeps his contributions quietly anonymous, but for every celebrity he and his teams treat, they make a point of treating at least two underprivileged patients.”

Wong nodded, adding, “He’s been consulting with me on a charity case, a young fireman who has a hand injury. In fact, he scrubbed in on surgery this morning. We had been hoping to avoid amputation and prosthetics and Dr. Lassiter steered us in a more positive direction. The man is absolutely brilliant.”

That Cole was an admired doctor didn’t surprise Isabella at all. She had always known Cole would excel at whatever he put his mind to. If only he’d had as much passion for nurturing a family as he did for nurturing his medical prowess, she would have never known the pain of a broken heart.

“Isabella, one of Dr. Lassiter’s team has a young son who is showing signs of autism. I’m hoping you’ll talk to him about applied behavior analysis.” Dr. Lockhart gave her a hopeful smile as he beckoned Cole over.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Cole head in their direction.

Before she could figure out how to move on gracefully, Dr. Lockhart was introducing them. “Cole, do you remember Isabella Allante? She’s the therapist I was telling you about. My daughter has reminded me that all of you went to school together.”

“Yes, I remember Bella.” Cole gave her a reserved, wary nod. “We renewed our acquaintance when we bumped into each other at the games a few days ago.”

What did he expect her to do? Publicly force him to acknowledge his son, then demand fourteen years of paternity payments? She had more class than that.

Madelaine widened her eyes at them as if she’d just caught them kissing under the bleachers. “That’s right. You two were an item for a while during your last year of high school.”

A close-up photo of Adrian flashed on the screen.

“Isn’t that your son, Isabella?” Madelaine pointed to the photo. “How old is he now?”

Isabella made a quick study of her son. He looked so much like Cole at fourteen.

Madelaine narrowed her eyes as she started to put the pieces of Isabella’s timeline together. With her nose for gossip, she would have the puzzle worked out by the end of the evening.

Only the immediate Beautemps family knew Adrian wasn’t one of their own, and only David and his mother knew about Cole. After all these years of letting everyone make the assumption that Adrian was David’s son, was her secret about to be revealed? Her mind boggled at the ripple effect that would have.

She worded her answer carefully. “He’s in his last year of middle school.” No need to mention that he’d been held back a few years to try to match his classmates’ maturity levels.

Without glancing his way, she felt Cole study her, evaluate her, take a step closer to her so she could feel his body radiate with heat. Or was that the force of his personality that made her own body hot?

Damn. Why did Cole have to come back? She could have lived the rest of her life in peace without ever seeing him again. She had been totally satisfied with her life until he’d shown up. Okay, maybe not totally satisfied. But she had plenty going on in her life without needing a man in it, especially this man who made her feel a restlessness she hadn’t felt in over fifteen years.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.” She turned on her heel to head to the open bar and Cole followed. Snagging two glasses of sparkling white wine, he handed her one.

She almost refused, but that would mean she cared.

She didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to react to the overpowering maleness of him. Didn’t want to think of the string of lonely nights behind her or the infinite ones that stretched before her.

No other man had ever made her feel this yearning, this need to be filled.

As she coached her patients, she would perform the outward motions with the intention of changing inner emotions.

As if Cole were a random stranger, Isabella accepted the crystal flute from him. When his warm fingers brushed hers, she almost dropped her glass. Just a remembered physiological reaction, she scolded herself. Nothing significant there. Certainly nothing to be acted on either positively or negatively. Still, she took a step away.

“Bella, someone called my cellphone this afternoon. No message. Just a hang-up. Since I gave Adrian my cellphone number, I thought it might be him.” He rattled off the number.

“That’s our home phone. He’s never done that before. He doesn’t generally reach out to make contact like that.” Absently, Isabella took a deep drink of her champagne, not caring that she should sip instead of gulp. If it had truly been Adrian, the phone call was a huge breakthrough.

Overcome with too many opposing emotions, she fought to find words to fill the silence. Any inane utterance would do.

But she was as mute as her son.

“Are you all right?” Cole’s voice was deeper now than it had been. And clipped around the edges, as if he was too busy to allow his natural Southern drawl to play out.

“Fine. Just fine.” What do you care if I’m not? she wanted to challenge him.

She wanted to break the connection between them even more. No muss, no fuss. Simply walk away from a situation that could get complicated fast.

Was that what Cole had been thinking when he’d deserted her while she’d slept all those years ago?

She couldn’t make herself leave him.

“I don’t know why Adrian would call you.” Except, in his imagination, you’re his hero.

“There’s no emergency?”

Did he sound disgruntled? Too busy to take a phone call from his own son?

“No. Nothing like that. I’ll tell him not to bother you again.” Which would be a major setback for Adrian. “You shouldn’t have given him your number if you didn’t want him to use it.”

“I didn’t mean that at all. He can call me anytime, although I can’t always answer it. If you could explain that to him …”

“You can explain it to him yourself. Although Adrian doesn’t like to talk much, his hearing is just fine.”

“Then I’ll need to work on my one-sided conversations.”

Would he really put forth the effort? Or would he realize how frustrating it could be to try to communicate with Adrian, and then drop out of their lives as quickly as he’d dropped in?

Isabella ran her thumb across her hangnail as the decisions of motherhood tore at her. Having a father in his life would mean the world to Adrian. But consistency was key to Adrian’s peace of mind. How could she protect her son?

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.” She found herself standing so close to Cole his body heat warmed her.

Craning her neck to look up into Cole’s eyes, she refused to take that first step back, just as he also refused to give ground. Invading each others’ personal space felt so provoking, so intimate that every nerve ending cried out to close the gap between them.

“I always keep my promises.”

“Then you’ve changed.” She rubbed at her throbbing temple before she pinned him with a stare. “Cole Lassiter, if you disappoint my son, you’ll rue the day you ever returned to New Orleans.”

He was silent as a muscle worked in his jaw. Finally, he said, “You’re a good mother, Bella.” He leaned in so close, his breath tickled her ear. “Do you know how your eyes spark when you’re passionate? You’ve become quite a woman, Isabella Allante.”

The drawl was back and so were all the conflicting emotions for Cole she’d attempted to forget. His voice caressed her as if he’d reached out and stroked his hand down her spine.

Isabella would have taken a sip of her drink to fill the silence but didn’t trust herself to be steady enough to keep from spilling it.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking him over, taking in the man he had become. Every inch of him, from his dark shadowed face to his broad shoulders and long-fingered hands oozed testosterone. The very scent of him made her ache for his touch.

What would his hands feel like, cupping her breasts, as they had once done?

She moved, shifting in her heels, because she had to. To stand still with all that need coursing through her would be to come apart.

He gave her a sideways half smile, half smirk as if he knew how he affected her. “Would you like to sit?”

No, I would like to take you to my bed. Her libido was stronger now than it had ever been as a teenager. No question that Cole was the cause. No one else had ever come close to affecting her this way.

“No. I would not like to sit.” Having to form a coherent answer kick-started her logic and control. What was she doing, letting her baser emotions run away like that? She didn’t have the luxury of letting go. She had responsibilities, duties and a few drops of pride left.

Like she’d done so many times in her life, Isabella concentrated on getting through the moment, leaving the future to untangle itself.

Cole would be gone soon. She would help Adrian grow past his disappointment that his fictional image of Daddy didn’t live up to reality. And they would get on with their lives with nothing but another memory of Cole to bury in her boneyard of hopes gone awry.