Read The Good Doctor Online

Authors: Karen Rose Smith

The Good Doctor (6 page)

BOOK: The Good Doctor
9.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

She settled on, “I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning. I worry about Ryan driving if this is more than tension headaches. I told him I'd meet him outside the Double Crown and follow him to your place.”

“Did Ryan tell you I'd like to leave by 6:30 a.m.?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Will your brother question where you're going?”

“With me living at the pool house, we hardly notice each other's comings and goings. Miles doesn't watch over me as closely as Clyde does. He won't miss me.”

The parking lot lights cast a combination of glow and shadows. Peter's gaze held hers. She couldn't seem to look away and neither could he. The awareness between them had her senses raised to a fever pitch.

When Peter bent toward her, she was afraid to breathe. She was afraid she'd break the spell. She was afraid his pager might interrupt or else he'd change his mind. In spite of warn
ing bells clanging in her head, she wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to find out if the excitement between them was real.

At the moment his lips touched hers, she knew it was. One of his strong arms went around her and she lifted her lips into the kiss, telling him she wasn't going to pull away. The sexual tension that had been humming between them since they'd met had needed an outlet, but the kiss was much more than that.

Heat flashed through Violet, making even her fingertips tingle. Coherent thoughts vanished as her body simply responded to Peter's. His tongue was making her crazy with need. When her arms went around his neck, she pressed into him, and his taut body told her he was as aroused as she was. This kiss was so different from the inexpert kisses of her teenage years, so different from awkward first-date kisses, so different from the maybe-I'll-try-this-again kisses that had left her cold. She was going up in flames with Peter and she wondered where they could possibly go from here.

She never got the chance to find out. Suddenly the kiss ended as he dropped his arms and stepped away. When she glanced up at him, she was still trembling all over, but he looked as composed as he had all night.

He said, “That was probably not one of the more intelligent things I've ever done.”

Her pride kept her from asking why, from showing him the effect he'd had on her. Her pride was something she could hold on to, wrap around herself and rely on.

“It was just a kiss,” she said lightly as if it hadn't mattered at all.

When he cocked his head, she felt as if he were trying to see right through her, yet she knew he couldn't. She'd been building walls around herself all her life—since she'd been fifteen, pregnant and more alone than she'd ever felt in her
entire existence. There was no way Peter could see into her heart, mind or head.

Opening the car door, she quickly slid inside and closed it. She did not roll her window down to say a final goodbye. Rather she started the engine, shifted the car into gear and backed up. She didn't even glance in her rearview mirror as she drove away.

Tomorrow morning, when she saw Peter again, she'd be prepared. They'd consult professionally about Ryan, then go their separate ways. End of story.

But her lips still felt as if they were on fire from his kiss, and her insides still quivered. When she felt tears come to her eyes, she took a deep breath and banished them. She was Violet Fortune, strong and independent. She didn't need a man.

She repeated that phrase like a mantra the whole way back to the Flying Aces.

Four

T
he auction was over and Jason Jamison gazed across the half-crowded room, glad he hadn't been up for bid. He'd briefly thought about being a high-priced bachelor, but then he remembered he was supposed to be married. He'd brought “his wife” to the shindig and they'd mingled with the right crowd. Except now she was mingling a little too much.

Melissa was fawning all over Ryan Fortune and nothing about it looked like pretend. She was supposed to be a partner in bringing the old guy down, but this didn't look like partnering to Jason. Her hand was intimately slipped around Ryan's arm and she was staring up into his face, wide-eyed, all coy seductress. Ryan's wife, Lily, looked on, seeming none too happy. She knew what Melissa was up to. Women had a sixth sense where that was concerned and Lily was no dummy.

Jealousy raged inside him as Melissa laughed and moved a little closer to Ryan. Her body language told Jason exactly
what she was doing and he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to wring her beautiful neck.

Lily moved closer to Ryan's other side as if protecting her property.

Tired of the whole scenario, Jason spun on his heel before he did something he'd regret, and left the ballroom. He strode right out of the hotel. He didn't walk far, just enough to bring his boiling temperature down to a simmer. Staring out into the parking lot, he searched for his cigarettes, pulled out a pack with a lighter and ignited one of them. Then he inhaled deeply, trying to turn his anger and jealousy into something manageable, something more productive.

The gleam in Lily's eye as she'd watched Melissa had been as sharp as a dagger. Instead of reacting to his own jealousy, he should concentrate on Lily's and figure out how to use it to bring the Fortune family down.

 

Saturday morning Violet waited in her car for Ryan a short distance from the access road that led to the Double Crown. When his large blue-and-silver crew cab truck pulled into view, she followed him to Peter's. As prearranged, she parked curbside in front of Peter's house in her nondescript rental car.

Obviously watching for them, Peter opened the garage, and Ryan pulled his truck inside. She joined them there.

Five minutes later, they were riding in Peter's SUV toward Houston, Ryan in the passenger seat. Worried about Ryan, she tried to make polite conversation for a while. Finally it dwindled away into silence, and Peter switched on the satellite radio. No commercials, no talk, just smooth jazz. There had been awkwardness between her and Peter since their kiss last night that not even anxiety over Ryan could diminish.

When they arrived at the Houston hospital, Peter knew exactly where to go. They didn't stop in registration but rather went to a doctor's office on the second floor. The brass plate on the door read Dr. Frank Grimaldi.

Once inside, a pretty blond receptionist looked up at them. After Peter gave his name, she didn't ask any more questions, just took a sheaf of papers from inside a file folder.

“Dr. Grimaldi will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”

The waiting room was decorated with comfortable cushioned furniture, a coffee table with the latest magazines, and low lighting. She and Peter sat, exchanged a glance much too full of everything that had happened the night before, and watched Ryan pace. Thankfully, a few minutes later, Dr. Grimaldi appeared.

After an enthusiastic handshake with Peter, a less energetic one for Violet, he turned to Ryan, shook his hand and assured him, “We intend to keep your identity a secret. You don't have to worry. Medicine is becoming more about ID numbers than names, anyway. Since you're paying cash, confidentiality will be absolutely assured.”

“What happens first?” Ryan asked.

“I have you scheduled for an MRI in half an hour. I'd like you to come inside to one of the examination rooms and change into a hospital gown. I'll do a preliminary exam, then my receptionist will wheel you down to radiology.”

Doffing his Stetson, Ryan ran his hand through his hair. “Let's get this over with. I want to know the verdict.”

“You won't have the verdict until later this afternoon, right, Frank?” Peter asked.

“That's right. The MRI will take about an hour, maybe longer if we use dye, and I suggest you all get some lunch afterward and try to relax. I'll meet you back here at four.”

“Are you going to wait here for me?” Ryan asked Violet.

“Yes. I'll try to catch up on the latest fads, gossip and miracle cures in the magazines.”

“Good,” Ryan said with a smile. “I might need one of those miracle cures.”

Giving Ryan a hug, Violet didn't know what to say. She was hoping for the best and didn't even want to think about the worst. Ryan had always been a strong, vibrant presence in her life. She absolutely couldn't imagine anything happening to him and didn't want to.

“Go with Dr. Grimaldi,” she whispered, her voice catching.

He patted her on the back as he would a child and then he followed the doctor down the hall to an examination room.

For the next twenty minutes, Violet felt as if she were going to jump out of her skin. Yes, her concern for Ryan was making her tense, but sitting in this small room with Peter wasn't helping, either. With the receptionist stationed at the desk, they weren't about to have a private conversation, assuming Peter
wanted
to have a private conversation. He seemed genuinely engrossed in a news magazine.

Was he always cool, calm, and collected? Didn't anything ruffle him? If she was up for a challenge, that would have been it—trying to ruffle Peter Clark. However, right now she just wanted to make time pass quickly. It wasn't.

Finally, Dr. Grimaldi himself wheeled Ryan into the reception area. Ryan was a tall man, husky, with plenty of muscles. But this morning, in that wheelchair with a cover over his lap, he looked…older, resigned, downright weary.

Violet went to him and crouched down by his side. When she gazed into his eyes, she couldn't say anything. Instead, she kissed his weathered cheek. For some reason the gesture of affection just seemed necessary.

The receptionist took hold of Ryan's chair and pushed it out the door.

Dr. Grimaldi said to Peter, “I'll see you later.” He glanced at his watch. “I'm already late for a meeting. You're welcome to wait here if you'd like.” Then he was gone, too.

It only took Violet a few moments to realize she couldn't sit here and read more magazines. “I'm going to go stir-crazy if I stay here. Do you want to go for a walk?”

“That's probably a good idea. But I think we should talk first.”

“About last night?” As soon as the question was out, she wished she hadn't asked because now he'd know it had been on her mind.

“About what happened in the parking lot.” His voice went lower. “I should never have kissed you.”

“I was there, too,” she reminded him, waiting to hear his reasons why it was a bad idea. She had hers, but she wanted to know his.

He looked chagrined for a few moments but then with determination went on, “You're a beautiful woman, Violet, but you've got a high-powered career. Not only that, your career is in New York. I've been down that road before. It's not one I want to travel again. My guess is, you don't even know how long you'll be in Texas.”

“I've cleared my schedule for a month.”

“We can do a lot of damage in a month. We could disrupt our lives and tear up our emotions and at the end of it be sorry we ever met.”

His conclusions about what would probably happen irked her. She couldn't help but say, “I'm glad you have a crystal ball. Do you know where
I
can buy one?”

His tone was wry. “No crystal ball. Just logic and a healthy dose of past experience.”

“So you have a prejudice against career women?”

“I respect career women, and some careers don't consume
twenty-four hours a day. But you and I both know our careers do. I guess what I'm saying, Violet, is that I'm looking for more than a good time rocking the bed.”

If he was being brutally blunt to shock her, he didn't. “I dream about having it all someday,” she admitted. “The truth is, no man has ever made me reconsider my goals or the time I spend with my patients. That might never change.”

On the other hand, hadn't she come to Texas because the path she'd chosen didn't seem to fit anymore? Her pride kept her from expressing any of that to Peter. He already had his mind made up.

Finally that Fortune pride of hers made her say as she had last night, “It was just a kiss, Peter.”

His gaze roamed hers for a long, silent moment, then he agreed, “It
was
just a kiss.”

Before Violet could respond, the office door opened and a woman wearing a smock and carrying a large manila envelope came inside and went to the receptionist's office.

“Let's go for that walk,” Peter urged, and Violet knew any personal conversation between them was now over. They would make small talk, converse about Texas and New York and Ryan. They'd ignore the electricity sparking between them because that was the safest route to take.

Violet wasn't sure the safe route felt like the right one any longer.

 

By the time Ryan's MRI was finished, tension between Peter and Violet was off the charts. Peter drove them to a small, quiet restaurant near their motel, not exactly knowing what to say or how to act with the pretty doctor. That kiss last night had practically untied his wingtips, not to mention revved him up enough that primitive caveman tendencies had almost taken over. He'd handled the kiss, the aftermath and
Violet poorly. The simple truth was—he wasn't used to a woman giving him insomnia. He wasn't used to a woman making his world tilt. He wasn't used to a woman making him feel as if his control had slipped. On top of that, his gut told him what that MRI was going to say.

He parked in a space around the corner from the restaurant door. None of them spoke until they were seated at a table inside and a waitress had brought them menus.

Ryan glanced at his, closed it and laid it down on the place mat. “I'm not hungry.”

“No matter what the results are of that MRI,” Violet insisted, “you have to take care of yourself.”

Peter noticed the deepening lines around Ryan's eyes and over his brows. “Do you still have a headache?”

“It was made ten times worse by the banging in that machine. Or by the dye they injected into me,” Ryan grumbled.

“After we finish here, we can check in at the motel. I made arrangements for an early check-in so you can rest until our appointment with Dr. Grimaldi.”

“What I need is some fine bourbon.”

After lunch, Peter, Violet and Ryan went to their separate rooms. At three-thirty, they met in the lobby to return to the hospital. When they reached Dr. Grimaldi's office, the receptionist told them he'd be with them in a few minutes.

Ten minutes later, when Dr. Grimaldi came into the waiting area, his gaze fell on Ryan. “Do you want this to be private, or do you want Dr. Clark and Dr. Fortune to be present also?”

Ryan stood. “I want them there.”

Grimaldi motioned to them to follow him.

After Peter and Violet flanked Ryan in the chairs sitting before Grimaldi's desk, the neurosurgeon steepled his fingers on the blotter. Then his eyes met Ryan's.

Ryan said, “Keep this simple, Doc. I want to be able to understand it.”

Dr. Grimaldi's attention went to Peter and then to Violet. “Ryan has a glioblastoma multiforme. The tumor is located deep in the brain and across the midline.” His focus went back to Ryan. “In simple terms you have an inoperable brain tumor. The symptoms you're having now—headaches, some numbness in the left arm, coordination problems—will increase in severity, eventually including speech impairment, confusion and finally a coma. The statistics say you'll have three to six months.”

“Inoperable?” Ryan repeated as if that were the only word he'd heard.

Although the diagnosis wasn't unexpected, Peter felt like he'd received a blow to the gut. Clasping Ryan's arm, he insisted, “It might be inoperable, but that doesn't preclude experimental treatment.”

“Treatment like strange drugs and chemotherapy?” Ryan looked aghast.

“Possibly. Maybe radiation. There are many programs. I'm sure I can find something.”

But before Peter was able to finish talking, Ryan was shaking his head. “No. None of that stuff. I don't want to be sicker, not before I have to be.”

Peter knew the diagnosis was a shock and Ryan had to come to terms with everything that it implied. He could see Violet was in shock, too. She blinked rapidly, and he guessed she was holding back tears.

Dr. Grimaldi offered, “Peter's right about experimental treatment. If you want to search it out, I'm sure you can find it. I'll cooperate with anyone who needs records or results of the MRI. Just call me and let me know. You're going to need a physician close by in Red Rock—”

“No.” Ryan's tone was adamant. “I'm not running to a doctor when nothing can be done, and certainly not before I tell anybody about this. I don't know when I'm going to do that.”

“You should tell Lily,” Peter advised somberly.

“Not yet. Not now. I have to think about all of it.” Then Ryan stood and went to the door. “Send the bill for all this to Peter's office. I'll see that he gets the money.” Then he was leaving and Violet was hurrying after him.

When Peter turned to Grimaldi, he saw sadness there. “We save patients lives, too,” Peter reminded him as if he knew the doctor needed to hear it.

“That's no consolation to Ryan Fortune.”

“No, it's not, but it might be some to you. The only way we can do this day after day is to remember the hope. I intend to give Ryan some hope. I'll find an experimental program and get him into it.”

BOOK: The Good Doctor
9.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Sleepwalker by Karen Robards
Toad in the Hole by Paisley Ray
Midsummer Eve at Rookery End by Elizabeth Hanbury
Claire and Present Danger by Gillian Roberts