by Risk, Mona
How in the world could she coach her treacherous subconscious into proper behavior?
Needing reassurance, she stopped by Loraine’s office the next morning. “Hi Loraine. Just a quick question. I had a slip of the tongue.” She bit her lip, paused, and then shrugged, while Loraine patiently waited for more explanation. “I blurted the wrong name when Steve and I were—umm—well, at the wrong time. It’s no big deal, right?”
Her psychiatric friend shot her one of those looks that penetrated her mind and searched for tiny details with the accuracy of a microscope. “Oh sweetie, you’re not sure about your marriage, now?”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I’m sure. It’s just weird to mention a name I’ve completely, totally, utterly forgotten.”
Loraine crossed her arms, glanced at her watch and squinted over her glasses. “Have a seat. Whose name?”
All her secrets tumbled out of Mary-Beth’s mouth while Loraine patiently listened. “Is Yves really a lousy womanizer?”
“I think, I mean—”
“Can it all be in your head?”
“Huh?” Her hand flew to her skull, fingering and skimming for a problematic bump.
“Do you really love Steve?”
“Of course.” Had she wasted a whole hour just to get that stupid question?
“Passionate love?”
“Yes, I think, I mean I’m sure—”
“Is it possible that you think you love him because you’ve decided he was your best option?”
Mary-Beth shook her head vehemently and stood to leave. This was going nowhere. Loraine bombarded her with one question after another. Soon she’d make her doubt the wise decisions she’d reached.
“It’s all in your head, Mary-Beth. You’ve repressed your emotions and tried too hard to control your feelings. You need to face the reason for your problems and analyze your reactions before you get married.”
“Face…Yves? No way.”
“Why not? What’s the problem if you’re convinced you don’t care about him?”
“I’ve already faced him in my nightmares, and didn’t like it.”
“Are you sure you didn’t like it?”
Her face in flames, Mary-Beth opened her mouth and closed it.
“Join the exchange program, go to France, and get some answers,” the psychiatrist said as she walked her to the door.
Later at home, Mary-Beth sat in front of Steve in his office, staring at the screen of her laptop, while he opened the folder on his desk. “Sweetheart, I think you should join the training program.” Always the dedicated mentor, Steve handed her an application form. “Trust me. It will improve your experience in Surgery.”
Good God, both the psychiatrist and her fiancé challenged her—for different reasons— to go to France and work with Yves for three months.
Would it help her forget the French doc and put the past to rest?
Would facing Yves convince her obtuse mind she didn’t give a fig about his devilish smile or his intense green gaze?
CHAPTER TWO
“Welcome to France, Dr. Drake.” Stepping back to allow her entrance to his office, Dr. Malroux treated her to the mind-boggling smile he’d probably bestowed on countless beauties he’d escorted.
Rooted in the doorway, Mary-Beth stared at the man she had snatched from her heart a year ago. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his jaws and a lock of dark hair wandered over his forehead. Damn, he was even more handsome than in her nightmares.
“Good afternoon.” She couldn’t mutter another word as her eyes fell on the surgical top stretched over his muscular chest. Heat bloomed throughout her body. She clenched the straps of her purse and willed her stupid heart to slow down, certain that the thumping could be heard in the silence.
With effort, she recalled the assertiveness she’d painfully acquired over the previous year and extended her arm for a handshake. “I’m here for the summer residency program organized by Dr. Steve Galt from Massachusetts General Hospital.”
Standing too close, he shook her hand and held it an extra second. His sandalwood cologne enveloped her. The familiar scent from her days at Harvard Library sent her pulse into overdrive.
“Yes, I know. I received your impressive curriculum vitae,” he said with the delightful French accent that had resonated in her ears months after he’d left Boston. “Please, have a seat,” he added, indicating the brown velvet chair in front of his desk.
She hastened to sit and put her oversized purse on the carpet. Her back straight, she clasped her hands together in her lap and crossed her ankles to prevent the anxious tapping of her feet.
He sat behind his desk and leaned back in an imposing leather chair that enhanced his confident stature. His gaze ambled, paused and assessed. “Dr. Drake, I am delighted you will be working with us at the Hôpital de la Santé.”
He doesn’t recognize me.
Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t recognize her as the heavy frump from the past. Pleased that she had a chance to start her training without painful reminiscences, she suppressed a smile of relief and bore the weight of his scrutiny without flinching.
His forehead pleated in a thoughtful frown as he opened the folder on his desk and perused her application. “You mention you decided to train with us to improve your skills in General Surgery. Anything else?”
“I also would like to train in Pediatric and Cardiac surgery.” And prove that I’m immune to your charm and marry Steve without reservations. Her voice firmed up as she rubbed her ringless finger.
“All in due time. You are not too tired from the long trip, the jetlag?”
“No, I slept during most of the flight to Paris and later in the train to Tours.”
“Très bien. Very good.” Admiration glinted in his green eyes. “I don’t have time to give you a tour of the hospital now.” He glanced at the screen of his laptop. “We have a few surgeries scheduled this afternoon.”
“I’m ready to work.” Ready to do anything that would take her away from his gaze roaming over her face.
“In that case, you may assist in surgery.” Dr. Malroux studied his computer again. “We have a tonsillectomy in about an hour. Are you interested? ”
“Oh, yes.” The thought of starting work focused her mind and eased the tension of the previous moment.
“Excellent.” He stood. “I will call our head nurse, Josephine, to show you around.”
Mary-Beth grabbed her purse and walked toward the door. Her confidence rebounded now that the dreaded meeting with her new boss had ended.
“By the way, I hope you had no trouble finding Hubert at the train station?”
“Everything went fine. I asked your butler to drive me to the hotel near the station, the Pension Iris, where I checked in.”
“Hubert should have known better than to take you to the pension. My summer residents stay at Marancourt. Didn’t Dr. Galt explain that to you?” His autocratic tone grated on her nerves. Her sleeping arrangements were none of his business.
“Yes, but—” Steve had extended Dr. Malroux’s invitation with an edgy voice and a nervous scowl, and she’d refused to Steve’s sagging relief.
“You are not disturbing anyone.” Misunderstanding her reasons, Dr. Malroux waved his hand in a don’t-worry gesture. “The chateau is huge and has many rooms.”
“I can’t stay at your mansion.” Fidgeting with the strap of her handbag, she cursed his insistence and wracked her brain for a logical reason.
“Pourqoi pas? Why not?” His speculative look annoyed her more than his words.
“Uh…” She clamped her mouth shut. The serious doctor facing her didn’t compare to the devilish Yves of her indecent nightmares. Still, there was no need to tempt the devil into sending her a new round of bad dreams.
“Dr. Drake, we often have emergency calls in the middle of the night. My residents are expected to get to the hospital as soon as possible and drive my cars if needed. Why should you be an exception?”
<
br /> “Oh, absolutely not. I am used to taking emergency calls at night.”
His eyebrows gathered in a scowl, though a hint of a smile confused her. “The chateau currently hosts four men and a woman.” He perched on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes impaling her with a patronizing look. “The welfare of my patients comes before our personal comfort.”
Anxiety knotted her stomach and she braced her nerves. How could she argue when he’d put his patients’ care in the balance? “I’ll move my suitcases tonight.”
Dr. Malroux rubbed his hands together. “I am delighted you agree with me. Don’t worry about your baggage. Hubert will have a valet fetch your things and bring them to Marancourt. You will not be disappointed by the accommodations,” he said in a gentler tone as if he regretted winning their argument.
No need to start her training on the wrong foot. She schooled her expression and graced her host with a delighted smile. “Actually, it will be lovely to live in a real chateau.”
“Wonderful. One more thing before I ring Josephine. Please, call me Yves. I hope you don’t mind if I call you Mary-Beth.”
“Okay,” she said with a shrug. Calling him by his given name every day would remind her she came to France precisely to confirm that this name held no special significance for her. Yves was no longer the Yves, mon amour, of years ago.
Yves treated her to a suave smile. “No need to be so formal when we will work together all day long and live under the same roof at night.”
What? His last words hammered her brain. Under the same roof all night. Darn. How big was the chateau?
****
Before exiting his office, Yves focused a pensive look on the American resident. Bon Dieu, but she was a knock-out with that glorious chestnut mane that took his breath away. She looked familiar and he recognized the enchanting bouquet of her Chanel No5 perfume. Yet he couldn’t place her.
There was no way on earth he’d have seen this lovely woman in Boston and ignored her. For three summers in a row? He, the connaisseur de femmes?
In Boston, he’d taken out many young women, doctors, fellows and nurses. But not Mary-Beth. Of that he was sure. He wouldn’t have forgotten those huge blue eyes, violet-blue like the wild irises growing in the fields surrounding his chateau.
Nom d’une pipe, he never forgot an organ he removed from a patient or a woman he dated. Never.
“Mary-Beth, where did you study?” His gaze waltzed over her face and figure one more time. A tailored navy skirt hugged her hips and skimmed her legs just above the knees. What a pair of legs, shapely, long, enhanced by high-heeled shoes. A conservative white shirt and blazer completed her outfit. Desire speared him like a sharpened scalpel. Not that it made any sense to him, but he wanted this beautiful girl as he had never wanted a woman since Rose-Anne.
“At Harvard. It’s on my résumé. I graduated three years ago,” she said as she walked toward the door.
“Hmm. I saw that.” He stepped in front of her to detain her for a moment longer. “You went elsewhere during the summers?” He searched her face for an answer to the questions nagging him.
“I was there the whole time.” Sadness and disappointment simmered in her eyes. Why?
“All the time, hmm?” He frowned, puzzled.
She tilted her head up and held his gaze. “All year long, all day long.” A curious mix of apprehension and candidness played over her exquisite features and tightened his muscles.
“So where were you when I was at Harvard as a visiting physician?” Curiosity tinged his voice as he squinted at her.
Mary-Beth rolled her eyes. “Trust me. I was there while you were in Boston.”
He arched an eyebrow, digging deep into his memory. “In the OR assisting me for surgery?”
“No, in the library, researching books and articles for you.” A sarcastic smile curled her lips.
“The library?” He scowled as he searched through his mental index of names, beautiful faces and gorgeous figures. “The only person I remember from the library was a young girl I…” He studied the perfect oval of her face, the high cheek bones, the full lips. And the violet-blue eyes of…“Sweet-Mary?”
Remorse stung him for not recognizing his Sweet-Mary, the cute medical student who used to hide behind baggy sweatshirts, thick glasses and a book.
A furious blush stained her cheeks as their last encounter played in his memory. In hers too probably. The night before leaving Boston, he had stopped by her tiny apartment to thank her with a box of chocolate, a bottle of Chanel No5 and a kiss on the cheek.
“Bon Dieu. You are Sweet-Mary? The medical student I met in the library?” That night she’d stunned him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth. A kiss so full of passion he’d returned it eagerly. They had ended up in bed for one of the most dazzling nights he’d ever shared with a woman.
And guilt swallowed him whole the next morning. Such innocence was not for the cynical playboy he had become after Rose-Anne’s death. Terrified of hurting Sweet-Mary, he left immediately, sure that she’d forget her infatuation soon.
His eyes widened as he looked at her tiny waist. The shy, overweight girl had become a self-assured beauty. “You have changed.”
“You bet.” Her defensive tone seemed to raise a fence between them.
“And yet, you haven’t changed that much.” With a smile of appreciation for her wry sense of humor, he took a step closer to toy with a soft curl as he’d done the last time he’d seen her. “I am glad you came to our hospital for the summer. We will be able to discuss many difficult cases again.”
She finally smiled at the mention of their medical exchanges. Pleased to have his bright discussion partner back, he cupped her shoulders. “Welcome to France and to my hospital. Allow me to greet you the proper way, Sweet-Mary.” Hoping he hadn’t hurt her feelings by not recognizing her, he kissed her three times on the cheeks—right, left and right again—in the French way.
She stiffened under his touch and he immediately released her.
“My name is Mary-Beth.” She lifted her chin and scorned him with an icy look. “Can we, please, stop reminiscing?”
“Absolutely. We will not speak of the past.” A smile escaped him. “The present is far more interesting.” The present had delivered him a special gift. “I am glad Dr. Galt put your name on the exchange resident list.”
Her eyebrows shot up but she didn’t comment.
Considering their last—so intimate—encounter, he was surprised she had agreed to come. Did that mean she still harbored feelings for him? Lust lashed at him. His fingers itched to hold her and continue the scene they started three years ago…with a better ending or a new beginning. “You will have a great time in our Vallée de la Loire.”
“I’m here to concentrate on the training.” Her firm tone failed to convince him.
“Of course.” He chuckled at what he considered a proud lie and tried to see through the mask of indifference she had donned. “I will make sure you benefit from your training. Yet this is a unique opportunity for a medical resident to visit France. Our Vallée de la Loire is a perfect place to have fun, a very romantic place,” he added with a grin.
She didn’t move, didn’t lower her head. Her breath hitched and a shadow of regret covered her face.
“Dr. Malroux, I’m not here to have fun.” A hint of defiance replaced her previous vulnerability. “I’m engaged and will soon be married.”
Disappointment punched him in the gut. “Engaged?” He jolted back and dropped his arms. She would be off limits to him now as she had been in the past—for different reasons.
“Congratulations.” His voice flat, he sobered and gave her a polite bow.
So she had matured and moved on with her life while changing into a stunning woman. But why was she so aloof, so serious? Had she lost her laughter along with her weight? She didn’t look very happy for a bride-to-be.
He cursed her fiancé. What eager gr
oom-to-be would let the love of his life go away for three months just before the wedding? The man might need some coaching on how to guard a lovely bride. “I don’t know your fiancé but I am surprised—”
“I’m marrying Steve Galt in four months.”
“Dr. Galt?” No wonder she wasn’t smiling. Frustration flooded through Yves. “Why are you marrying Galt?” The Massachusetts General Director of Surgery was old enough to be her father.
Money? Status? The man had both and could greatly enhance her career. The bright Sweet-Mary he had known would not have sold herself.
Had she changed so much?
“Because he loves me.” Did he imagine a note of desperation in her voice? She hadn’t mentioned she loved her fiancé, but her eyes remained focused on Yves, daring and assertive.
“Don’t you think he is too old for you?” he blurted, too upset to mince words.
“Excuse me?” Her lips pinched and the frown on her forehead intensified. She raised her hand as if to shield herself from his verbal attack. “That’s an irrelevant question, Dr. Malroux.”
Yves wanted to shake her, kiss her, show her she was making a mistake, but Steve was his respected colleague, a good friend for many years, and a lonely widower who, unlike Yves, didn’t flirt with every pretty woman who crossed his path. Steve was a decent man. He should have done the gentlemanly thing and married a woman closer to his own age. Raking his fingers through his hair, Yves exhaled in exasperation.
“Really? I wonder…” he mused, determined to find out why she had come to France—to him—just before her wedding.
CHAPTER THREE
Still light-headed and breathless Mary-Beth reeled from their loaded exchange while Yves speed-dialed a number on his mobile phone. A moment later, a middle-aged woman entered his office after a brief knock.
“Mary-Beth, this is Josephine, our head nurse. Dr. Drake is our newest exchange resident. She has just arrived from America.”