The Millionaire and the M.D. (6 page)

“Hey. Earth to doc—”

“What?” She blinked her patient into focus. “Sorry. I've got something on my mind.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that I can't get out of here until my brother comes to get me?”

“No.” Rebecca grinned. “It has to do with you cleaning up your act—in a nutritional way. But I will hunt your brother down and give him the four-one-one.”

As it turned out she didn't have far to go. After leaving Amy's room, Rebecca replaced the chart at the nurse's station, then glanced to her left down the corridor and spotted a familiar pair of broad shoulders. He was staring through the glass doors that separated patient rooms from the newborn nursery.

She wondered how she'd recognized him so quickly. Especially from the back. There was, of course, the exceptional butt. A part of the anatomy she hadn't truly appreciated when she'd taken the course. Not until meeting Gabe had her opinion in that regard changed. And recognizing the folly of seeing him more than necessary, she'd resolved to stay out of his way. Except, now she was on an errand for her patient.

She walked down the hall and stopped beside him. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't say anything, but she'd have given a lot to know what he was thinking, why the signs of sorrow were deeper on his face. Was this about his sister's baby? They'd never talked again about how the baby was conceived, who the father was, and that could be on his mind. Whatever was bothering him, she couldn't stand to see him look that way.

“Gabe?”

He glanced at her and there was no warm, gooey expression that usually followed when someone looked at the babies. Gabe's eyes were hard and there was a coldness that made her shiver.

“What's wrong?”

“I hate hospitals.”

And that told her everything. He was thinking about Hannah. Losing her. And the patient rooms, long corridors and antiseptic environment reminded him of what he'd lost. She could tell him how many people were helped every day, how many were better off for medical intervention, but he wouldn't want to hear it. She thought about pointing out that the babies on the other side of these doors were thriving and healthy and would be going home to start their lives. The expression in his eyes dared her to say something optimistic so he could mock her.

Instead she said, “Then you've got a problem.”

“How's that?”

“Since you're building on to this one, you work here.”

“It's different when it's just a shell. Without people.”

“People benefit from the good work that happens within the walls you put up.”

“And a lot of bad happens,” he said.

She knew he couldn't let go of Hannah. “We can't save everyone. But how many more people would be lost without the benefit of this facility and others like it?”

He blew out a long breath and met her gaze. “That doesn't mean I'll ever be comfortable here.”

“Most people aren't. I happen to find the environment invigorating as well as serene.”

“Then you're a sick woman.” A hint of humor replaced the hardness in his eyes, and a smile took the sting from the words.

“Thank you,” she said, then remembered her errand. “Considering your aversion to hospitals, isn't it handy that I found you here.”

“Were you looking for me?” he asked.

She nodded. “Your sister asked me to.”

“How's she doing?”

“I'm discharging her.”

“Okay. Good,” he said, but the tone in his voice said the news was anything but.

“What's going on? I thought you two connected and bonded earlier.”

“We did. It's just—” He glanced at the newborns just beyond them.

“She's having a baby,” Rebecca guessed. “And that's a lot of responsibility.”

“Something like that,” he admitted.

“If you feel that way, imagine how scared she is.”

“I thought we already established that I don't have a clue about what she's feeling.”

“You don't really have to. All she wants is for you to be there for her. Medical training and medicine can only do so much. Doctors are still puzzled by the miracles they see due to the human spirit and other things that science can't explain.”

“What are you saying?”

“I need your help to help your sister. I can only do so much. The rest is up to her and for that she needs you.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I don't know if—”

“Stop right there. I'm sure it was hard losing Hannah.” The frown darkening his expression didn't deter her. “The bad stuff sucks. When you use every trick you've learned, every skill you have, work as hard as you can and throw in a prayer because you've got nothing left, and you still lose someone, that always sucks.”

“Then why do you do it?”

He would probably mock her, but he'd asked and she'd tell the truth.

“I do it because of the ones who get better. Because of my skill, luck, prayers, the strength of my patients and their families, they get to have a life. A first day of kindergarten. High school. The prom. A healthy baby of their own one day. And miracles do happen, just not always when we want them to. But I take them wherever I can find them. When I get one, I reach out and grab it and thank science and logic and the Powers That Be that I touched someone in a positive way.” She planted her hands on her hips and stared defiantly up at him. “That's why.”

“Good answer.”

“There's more. Amy needs you now. She said if she'd had anywhere else to go, she wouldn't have come to Las Vegas. But I think it's more than that. Instinctively she knew you were the one she wanted to support her through this time in her life. I don't mean to sound callous, but it's time to put loss in the past and focus on life.”

To take the sting out of her words, Rebecca put her hand on his arm. It was a mistake. She felt the heat of his skin through the material of his white dress shirt. And he wasn't frowning anymore. The shadows disappeared, burned away by the heat in his eyes. In fact, he was looking at her the same way he had before he'd kissed her. Her stomach dropped as if she were riding the Insanity ride at the top of the Stratosphere and her heart started pounding. Every visceral response to him was multiplied by ten when he put his big, warm hand over hers.

“Did you ever think about becoming a lawyer?” he asked.

“N-no. Why?”

“Because you're very persuasive. I don't believe that I have anything to offer my sister, but you've put a reasonable doubt in my mind.”

“Good, I—”

“The fact is, if you stand there any longer looking at me with those amazing eyes and wearing your passion and dedication on your sleeve, I would promise you anything.”

Rebecca met his gaze and barely registered the fact that she was glad his eyes weren't sad anymore. Then she struggled for nonchalance. Indifference equaled survival.

To become a doctor she'd taken an oath to do no harm, and constantly balanced watching and waiting with intervention in a patient's care. But doing no harm to herself was far more complicated. Especially when Gabe Thorne grinned the grin that made her knees go weak. The grin that made her forget he was sorry he'd kissed her. She couldn't be sorry for it and knew that attitude would get her hurt again.

Unless she could make these feelings go away, this man could do her a whole lot of harm.

G
abe stared at the budget report on his desk and made another attempt to absorb the contents. But the harder he looked, the more the figures turned into a pair of big brown eyes that sparkled with tenderness and humor. Or a smile that made him warm all over. Or a frown of disappointment that made him want to take back something he'd said.

He shook his head and considered the report again because Jack O'Neill sat in a chair across from him. Since branching out in Las Vegas, they'd set up their office in a triple-wide portable on land adjacent to Mercy Medical. They each had an administrative assistant and funneled a lot of paperwork through the corporate office in Dallas.

Once a week he had a project status meeting with his partner to go over current and future projects of Thorne & O'Neill, but concentrating had never been this hard before. In fact, Gabe made it a priority to focus completely on business because he didn't want to think about anything else. Suddenly everything else was crowding in anyway, and he didn't like it.

Gabe looked at his friend. “Give me the highlights.”

“You know the price of steel has gone up.” With a puzzled frown on his face, Jack stared back. “It's all there.”

“Okay,” he answered absently.

Jack was more than a friend to him and they'd been pretty much inseparable from the time the Thornes had bought a house in the exclusive gated community and moved next door to the O'Neills when Gabe was ten. Hannah had adored her older brother Jack. When she was little, she'd been the pain-in-the-ass tagalong. She grew up and teased Jack about being the tall, dark, handsome Hollywood-leading-man type who left a trail of broken hearts wherever he went. Women wanted to marry him and men wanted to be his best friend. Gabe couldn't remember a time when Jack wasn't his friend.

Football. Discovering girls. Their first drink, first drunk, first hangover. College. Becoming business partners. Jack had always been there. Losing Hannah was no exception. If not for Jack…Gabe didn't even want to go there.

“The price of cement has gone up, too.” Jack shifted the papers in front of him.

“I see.”

Speaking of seeing, he hadn't seen Rebecca since Amy had been discharged from the hospital. That was two weeks ago, and things had been pretty quiet. At least with him and his sister. With him and his thoughts, not so much. Kissing the doctor was never far from his mind. What the hell had he been thinking?

Jack cleared his throat. “Fortunately, we factored inflation costs for materials into our bid for the hospital expansion, so we're still okay.”

“That's too bad.”

Gabe barely registered Jack's words because he was too busy remembering the feel of Rebecca's hand on his arm when she said what got her through was helping the patients she could. She'd argued passionately that he had a lot of support to offer his sister. Her touch had pulled him back from the dark place he'd gone, after looking at the babies in the newborn nursery. Her passion was a tangible force. When he wondered about channeling that force in his direction, a shaft of heat went straight through him.

Jack loudly cleared his throat. “I'm going to sell you my half of the business and become a monk.”

“Good.” The word
monk
finally penetrated, and Gabe looked up sharply. “What?”

“Now that I have your attention…”

“Sorry. I'm distracted this morning.”

“Just this morning?” Jack shook his head.

“Okay, maybe a little longer.”

“A little longer? Get real. Buddy, your head hasn't been in the game for a while now. I don't need to remind you that this is an important project for the company.”

“I'm aware of that,” Gabe snapped.

“We've been working pretty hard,” Jack said slowly, studying him. “Maybe we should take off for a long weekend. A ski trip to Utah would clear your head. It's not that far and—”

“I can't.”

Gabe stood and walked to the window, his footsteps heavy and hollow on the floor of the manufactured portable. The walls were paneled and carpet covered the floor, but it was still a temporary setup.

“Okay,” Jack said. “That's it. I've given you space, but no more mister nice guy. What the hell is going on with you? And don't tell me nothing.”

Gabe stared out at the nearby foothills, green from a recent rain. “I didn't think it showed.”

There was a long-suffering sigh behind him. “This is me, buddy.”

He turned and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Give it up.”

About Rebecca he didn't know where to start. So he went with the most obvious of two revelations.

“Amy's in Vegas.”

“Okay.” Jack's gaze narrowed. “Is this a good surprise?”

“The part where she showed up without warning? Or the part where she's pregnant?”

Jack straightened in his chair. The normally unflappable man was clearly shocked. “Little Amy is having a baby? Wow. I don't know what to say.”

“Join the club.”

“How's your dad taking all this?” Jack asked.

“He doesn't know.”

“What?”

“Oh, he knows she's all right, but she won't tell him where she is.”

“Does he know about the baby?”

Gabe shook his head. “And she won't let me tell him. Says she'll take off again if I do. And the doctor says she's at risk—”

“At risk? How? She's a teenager. In the best shape of her life.”

“Apparently not. I've done a little research, and teens tend not to take care of themselves.”

“Why did you have to do research? She's under a doctor's care.”

“There's a privacy thing between doctor and patient, and medical information can't be revealed without permission.”

“Amy won't give it?”

“Right in one.” Gabe leaned a hip against his desk. “And the doc won't break the rules.”

“What
did
the doc tell you?”

“She said—”

“She?”

This would be a good place to insert not-so-obvious revelation number two. Rebecca. But what did he say? That he was feeling lust for another woman besides Hannah? He couldn't reconcile that for himself let alone say it out loud to her brother.

“Dr. Rebecca Hamilton. She said to make sure Amy eats right. Gets enough rest.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “But—”

“You want her back in Texas.”

“I want what's best for her.” For the record, he still didn't believe that was him.

“Do you know why she won't go?”

“No idea why she insists on staying here with me. When I put some pressure on her to go home, she took off again. And landed in the hospital.”

“Is she okay?”

“She's stable. For now,” Gabe added. “In fact, she has an appointment with Rebecca later this afternoon.”

To make sure she was okay physically, Gabe thought.

Emotionally was something else. Amy wasn't the carefree sister he remembered. He hadn't known her well, but she was definitely different, and Rebecca had a theory about that. He trusted her with Amy's medical care, but still couldn't figure out why she'd jumped to the conclusion that his sister was a victim of sexual assault. The thought of it sent hot-and-cold-running anger through him. Gabe decided not to share the speculation.

“Is there some reason you felt you needed to carry this around by yourself?” Jack stood and met his gaze.

“It's not about that. I just—” He didn't want to talk about why he didn't want to talk about it. “Let's just move on. About that report—”

“Not so fast. Why didn't you tell me about this?”

“Jack, let it go.”

His friend shook his head. “No way. Say it, Gabe. Why?”

Gabe stared for a long moment then said, “A pregnant sister. I guess—” He blew out a long breath. “Because I didn't want to remind you about Hannah.”

“Okay.” Jack's mouth thinned for a moment, then he nodded. “Here's the thing. She was my sister. I loved her and I'll miss her for the rest of my life. But you lost the woman you love and your child.”

The woman who would never have a baby. The child who would never have a first day in kindergarten. Rebecca was right. It sucked. And the fact she understood that better than anyone should have made him feel better, but it didn't.

“What's this situation doing to
your
memories?” Jack asked.

Gabe shook his head, remembering the painful feelings during that first appointment with his sister. Since then, somehow, his attention had shifted. To Rebecca. “It's tough to explain.”

“Is that why you felt we couldn't talk about this?”

Gabe lifted a shoulder as he shook his head. “My mistake.”

“Don't let it happen again,” Jack said, pointing a finger. “Okay. I've got work to do.”

“Me, too.” Gabe looked at the envelope on his desk and picked it up. “Wait. These tickets were just delivered. It's for a fund-raiser next Saturday.”

“You can't go?”

Gabe shook his head. “There are two tickets.”

“So, find someone to use the other one.”

“That's not going to happen,” Gabe said. “It's at The Palms. Should be a young crowd. A good time.”

Jack took the tickets and stuck them in his inside coat pocket. “If you're sure. I hate to see them go to waste.” Then he walked to the office doorway, the floor of the portable shaking with every heavy footfall. “For crying out loud, this is a multimillion-dollar company. Can we please find permanent office space soon?”

And there was the heart of the problem, Gabe thought. He didn't want anything permanent. Ever again.

He hadn't told Jack about the “thing” with Rebecca. And it wasn't because he was worried that his friend would disapprove. Just the opposite. He was afraid Jack would say it was time to move on.

Rebecca sat on the rolling stool in the exam room and made some notes in Amy's chart. Based on the ultrasound and her best guess, the teen was starting her eighth month. But there was no way to be absolutely sure unless she could get more information. The more the better. A doctor could never have too much when treating a patient.

Rebecca swiveled the stool and met Amy's gaze. “Do you have any idea when the baby was conceived?”

The teen looked startled before indifference cloaked her expression. “No.”

The curt answer was a clue to Rebecca that she wasn't telling the truth. She'd expected Amy to ask why she wanted to know, but Amy was still not participating in this pregnancy except with her body. She'd hoped that the sister/brother breakthrough in the hospital would make a difference. So far it wasn't showing. Unlike her baby.

“Do you want to talk about the father?” Rebecca asked.

“What's the point? He's a jerk.”

The kind of jerk who'd dumped her for her best friend? Or the kind who'd assaulted her? The closed expression on her face gave nothing away.

“The point is that ignoring the obvious is counterproductive.” She pulled some booklets from a display on the built-in desk and stood. “These pamphlets have a lot of good information that I'd like you to read.”

Amy took the material. “What for?”

“You're in the third trimester of this pregnancy, Amy. It's time to get involved. The baby is almost fully formed. Soon it will be all about him—or her—gaining weight before the birth.”

The teen set the booklets on the exam table beside her. “Whatever.”

Not good enough, Rebecca thought.

“You need to start preparing to care for your baby.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so. And something else.”

The teen exhaled loudly. “What?”

“I think it would be a good idea to contact your father.”

All traces of bored indifference disappeared. “No way.”

“He needs to know what's going on with his daughter.”

“No, he doesn't. He's never cared.”

Rebecca couldn't believe that. After all, the man had raised Gabe to be a caring man. She couldn't believe he'd been so indifferent toward his daughter. “Amy, he's your father—”

“And I'm the one he blames for killing my mother.”

“I'm sure that's not true. He grieved for her, but—”

“He was never around,” she snapped. “If he wasn't forced to get involved in my life, he ignored me. Hannah was the one who showed me how to do my hair. And when I got old enough she taught me about makeup.”