by Risk, Mona
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Thanks, Carlos, I’d love to go out with the gang on Saturday.” A night out with her friends would be fun, a great escape from her overwhelming boss and his fabulous chateau. With a relieved sigh, she switched off her cell phone and stowed it in her pocket as she sauntered down the corridor to check on Sophie Marin.
“Bonjour, Dr. Mary-Beth.” As usual the young woman greeted her with a huge smile. “Dr. Malroux said I could go home tomorrow. I will miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. But that’s good news. How do you feel, Sophie?”
“I feel great. I am still on a soft diet though. When will I be able to eat normal food?”
“We’ll talk about it in a moment. Let me check you.” Mary-Beth untied the hospital gown to reveal the distended area divided by a red and purple line crisscrossed by dark stitches. She examined the incision line. “You’re healing nicely.” She pulled her stethoscope and listened to the heart, lungs, and flat belly area. “Let me ask Dr. Malroux if I can remove your stitches now.”
Mary-Beth pulled her cell phone and punched Yves’s number. “Hi, I’m in Sophie Marin’s room. I already examined her. Do you want to check her yourself?”
“Is she ready?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, go ahead and remove the sutures. I will be with you in a minute.”
After she’d turned down Yves’s dinner invitation a couple of times, their conversations had dwindled to medical exchanges and reports. So far, he’d accepted her cool reserve without much ado.
Mary-Beth asked the nurse to get her a suture removal kit. “Sophie, while we wait for the nurse and for Dr. Malroux, I want to talk to you about your diet. I’ll give you a printed regimen. You have to go easy on carbohydrates and fat.”
“Why? I can’t gain weight now that I’ve had the surgery.”
Yves’s statistics rang in Mary-Beth’s ears. “Not true. Fifty percent of the patients regain their weight if they don’t pay attention.”
“You mean I can’t eat chocolate, or crackers, or pizza?”
“You’d better stick to proteins, vegetables and fruits.”
“It’s difficult.”
“If you feel tempted, call a friend and talk to her about it. It helps.”
Sophie’s fingers clenched on the blanket and tears welled in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I live alone. I have no one to talk to. Chocolate really helps when I feel lonely.”
How often had Mary-Beth said those same words? She shook her head with understanding. “If you’re depressed, put your sneakers on and go out for a walk. Please, when you go home tomorrow throw out everything you have in the fridge and fill it with healthy food.”
Sophie bit her lip and lowered her head. “I will never be able to change so radically. On my own.”
Mary-Beth considered her for a moment. “I understand. I was in your shoes only three years ago. Always on my own. Always lonely. Always munching. I was so desperate. It took a lot of willpower to break the vicious circle.” She touched Sophie’s arm with sympathy. “You’ve already coped with enough misery before your surgery. I won’t let you plummet to such a low point again. I’ll be here for ten more weeks. How about giving me a call if you need to talk?”
Sophie’s eyes rounded. “But you are a doctor.”
“So?” Determined to help her, Mary-Beth patted Sophie’s hand. “I’ll be your support system.”
A smile brightened the patient’s face. “You really mean it? Thank you so much, Dr. Drake. You are the best.”
The nurse came back with the requested kit and wiped Sophie’s chest and abdomen with an antiseptic. Mary-Beth picked up a knot with the sterile forceps, cut it with surgical scissors, and slowly pulled the loosened suture.
Sophie winced and Mary-Beth cringed.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really. It feels like a quick sting.”
“Dr. Drake has a light hand.” Yves walked into the room and watched her remove the rest of the sutures. “Sophie, you can’t drive yourself home tomorrow,” he said as the nurse cleansed the line of red dots and applied adhesive strips to allow the wound to strengthen.
“I have to.” Her cheerful mood ebbing at Yves’s curt statement, Sophie sighed. “I left my car in the hospital parking lot.”
“Forget it. I’ll take you home in your car,” Mary-Beth suggested.
Sophie shook her head as she tied the belt of her hospital gown. “Dr. Drake, you are very kind. I can’t impose—”
“Don’t worry.” Mary-Beth raised a hand to stop her protest. “Tomorrow is Saturday. I’m on call until noon. I’ll drive you home as soon as I finish my shift and we can buy you some healthy food on our way.”
Yves squinted, an ironic gleam in his eyes. “I can see you’re in good hands, Sophie.” Was it a compliment or a critique? Warmth spread over Mary-Beth’s cheeks and throat. She bit back a retort.
“Dr. Drake has offered to help and encourage me.”
“Really?” Yves’s eyebrow shot up. “We will let you rest now. Dr. Drake will discharge you tomorrow when she finishes her calls. Bonsoir.”
“Bonsoir, Dr. Malroux. Dr. Drake, I don’t know how to thank you. It’s a relief to know I can count on you to help me resist binging.”
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” Mary-Beth left Sophie’s room and strode down the corridor to the elevator, Yves’s footsteps closely behind her.
“It’s very kind of you to offer to drive her home. But I can’t believe you want to do her grocery shopping. You’re her doctor, not her—”
“I’m her doctor and her friend now that she’s out of the hospital.” Frowning, she jutted her chin. “Does that bother you?”
His lips twitched. “I can see you are determined not to let her jeopardize the success of your operation.”
Mary-Beth jammed a finger on the elevator button several times and endured his infuriating smile. “She needs help at the moment, and I have nothing more important to do after work tomorrow.” Somehow, she found it difficult to breathe with Yves standing so close to her, his gaze gliding over her face with unbearable slowness.
“Is that so? I didn’t realize you had any time to spare. I hardly saw you this week outside the hospital. Where have you been hiding?” Her exasperating boss crossed his arms over his chest, surveying her with interest.
“Nowhere else than the hospital and the clinic, and my daily jog early in the morning. I know the fields pretty well by now.”
“I’m glad you enjoy your time here. Just don’t get too involved in a case, especially if it reminds you of your own problems. You may lose your objectivity.”
Her head jerked up. “Dr. Malroux—” She bit her tongue in the nick of time. Could she tell her boss to mind his own business and stop psychoanalyzing her reasons for helping her patients beyond the OR?
Where was the elevator for heaven’s sake? She smacked again on the down arrow, not ready to put up with more inspection of her motivation or feelings.
Yes, Sophie reminded her of herself, and that was precisely why she wanted to support her effort. “I just want to help the poor woman become self-sufficient and break free from her food addiction.”
The archaic elevator finally stopped in front of them. They stepped in, but no matter how much she squeezed against the wall, Yves occupied too much space in the narrow cage that could hardly fit three people. The machine chugged and inched down as he turned to face her.
Soon the air vanished, replaced by the lime scent of Yves’s new cologne and his raw masculinity. Mary-Beth swallowed, rubbed her neck, and pressed against the wall as if she could get the elevator to speed up. It stopped at the third floor. The door slid open.
A burly man negotiated his way inside. Yves inched toward her to allow him to enter.
“Oh,” Mary-Beth squealed when the cabin moved and jolted Yves against her. He raised his arms and flattened his palms against the wall on both sides
of her head. They were squashed body to body, her breasts poking into his chest.
“Sorry,” Yves said without easing away, a devilish smile curving his lips. “Relax. It’s only three more levels.”
“Huh...” Three more levels at turtle’s speed. Yves’s eyes fixed on hers with a blazing intensity. An unexpected heat launched in her throat, winged to her chest, and inflamed her belly. She’d be in a raging inferno by the time they landed.
****
Yves shifted to give Mary-Beth more room and ended up rubbing his abdomen and thighs against hers. “It’s a bit inconvenient when there are more than two people in these old elevators,” he grumbled. His blood turned hot, his body hard, and his brain lustful. It took all his willpower and the presence of an orderly to prevent him from wrapping his arms around her and tasting her luscious lips.
By the time the antiquated elevator reached ground level, he was as flushed and uncomfortable as she looked. The door finally opened. Once free of the close confines, he loosened his tie, air whooshing from of his lungs. Mary-Beth immediately strode away and their sounds of relief echoed in the silence.
“Mary-Beth.” Yves called after her. Since she’d arrived two weeks ago, he’d kept to himself, losing interest in his friends.
“What?” She stopped but didn’t turn around, her exasperated tone a sure sign she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
“You mentioned earlier, you didn’t have anything better to do tomorrow afternoon than to drive Sophie Marin. I assume you have a free weekend.” Now she’d had time to grow accustomed to the hospital and the clinic, he wanted to get to know her better. “Will you join me for dinner at my favorite place in the Vallée de la Loire?”
“I’m sorry I have another commitment tomorrow evening.” She started walking again. He strode after her and grabbed her arm. Electricity arced between them.
Was she feeling it too?
He inhaled deeply to cool his blood and his brain. Her perfume assailed his senses and stirred his blood.
She glanced at his fingers and gave him a questioning look, her lips parting. All woman, alluring and vulnerable.
“Come with me tomorrow,” he whispered, his head mere inches from hers.
She eased her arm from his grasp. “No.” Her eyes darkened, angry and distrustful. “I’m going out with Carlos, Roberto and Jennifer,” she threw over her shoulder as she rushed away.
Casting her back an irritated glance, he watched her disappear down the hallway. A curse escaped him. His eyes on the marble floor, he strode to his office, torn between the urge to shake her and the desire to kiss her.
So, it wasn’t that she didn’t have time or inclination to go out because of a ludicrous loyalty to her fiancé. She was going out, all right. But not with Yves. No, she simply didn’t want to be with him.
He dropped onto his leather chair behind his desk and played with a pencil. Would he ever be able to understand her?
Why did he care? She was just another doctor, a resident in training for three months. And a woman with an angelic face and bewitching figure.
Merde, but he did care.
He lingered at the hospital, made another round, and filled out some paperwork. At nine, he drove back home and settled in his office, his mind still preoccupied with one particular resident. Was she really in love with Steve Galt?
Doubt invaded his mind. He debated the question for long hours and reached a personal conclusion. Mary-Beth and her fiancé had nothing in common. How could he convince her she should reassess her decision before committing to a loveless marriage? She should enjoy her youth and taste passion.
Ah, chérie, wake up. Come to me. His mind conjured lusty images and his pants tented. He’d been celibate for too long and needed companionship for the night.
His intercom buzzed. He pushed a button. “Monsieur le Comte, Mademoiselle Chantal au téléphone.”
Someone up there had listened to his plea. Right prescription, wrong woman.
“Hubert, tell her that I am not home.” Tonight, he couldn’t flirt and laugh, or even chat with anyone but Mary-Beth. He’d rather remain on his own reading and working.
“Oui, Monsieur le Comte,” Hubert answered with an exaggerated sigh to show him he was fed up playing accomplice to his boss’s amorous life.
The placid villagers and nosy hospital staff loved to gossip about his weekends in Paris. They probably would be disappointed to learn their count spent most of his time away from home, discussing export deals for the Marancourt wine rather than entertaining another beauty.
I want you, Mary-Beth.
He scoffed at his alien new attitude. It was certainly not like him to remain lonesome, waiting for a woman to notice his interest. They usually pursued him and fell into his arms without much effort on his part.
Around eleven at night, ready to retire earlier than he’d ever done in recent years, Yves pulled the heavy curtains of his bedroom. In the faint glow of a crescent moon, he noticed a sporadic beam of light zigzagging along the alley of poplar trees. He opened his window and stepped onto the balcony. The beam disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later casting shadows of someone running.
Mary-Beth? He saw her reach the field of irises and cross through. Had she lost her mind jogging on her own that late at night? André had been shot in the area a week ago and the criminal hadn’t been apprehended yet. Yves swallowed, fear for her safety turning his blood ice cold. He slipped on a pair of pants and a t-shirt, and dashed down the stairs.
He ran as quickly as he could toward the edge of his estate, stopped to listen and tried to follow the beam of light. By the time he emerged out of the field, Mary-Beth had turned left toward the village. What had prompted her to go there at night? It did seem rather late to be jogging.
Slowing his pace, he looked right and left, as he entered the village. Where had she disappeared?
The pungent smell of a cigar wafted toward him. “Bonsoir, Monsieur le Comte.” Old Bernard sat in a rocking chair in front of his house smoking.
“Have you seen Dr. Drake by any chance?”
“Oui, she went to Madame Brigitte’s place. Little Arianne had a high temperature and she vomited. The pretty doctor went to see her.”
“Merci, Bernard.” Yves had stopped wondering long ago how Bernard knew everyone’s news in the village. Why had Brigitte called Mary-Beth instead of contacting him?
Regardless, he didn’t like the fear that gripped his heart when he saw her darting through the fields and imagined her fending off a vicious aggressor.
CHAPTER NINE
Kneeling by the sofa to examine little Ariane, Mary-Beth shifted her gaze to the out-of-breath and visibly upset count. She had never seen Yves disheveled before, a t-shirt flopping over his blue jeans, his messy hair sticking to a sweaty forehead.
“What happened, Brigitte?” After a knock strong enough to wake the neighborhood, he had stormed into the quaint living room where aromatic potpourri spilled the warm fragrance of cinnamon.
Her hand clasped to her heart, Brigitte bolted out of her chair.
“Why didn’t you tell me your daughter needed help? Why do you disturb Dr. Drake in the middle of the night?” Yves’s questions pierced the silence.
“I am sorry, Monsieur le Comte. Last night, Mary-Beth insisted I call her if Ariane’s fever rose again.”
“Maman,” the five-year old cried and cuddled against Mary-Beth.
“See what you did?” Mary-Beth glared at Yves. “You’ve scared Ariane with your banging and shouting.” What was the matter with him? “You told me to follow up on our little patient. I gave Brigitte my cell phone number and specifically instructed her to call me if Ariane’s conditioned worsened. Why are you upset?”
“Because it’s the middle of the night.” His controlled voice grew as menacing as his scowl.
“So? Am I supposed to refuse to treat a patient because it’s night? Only eleven, by the way.”
“You are not supposed to run in the nigh
t by yourself. You could get lost or hurt or even killed. Especially when there is a criminal on the loose.”
He seemed really upset. And worried. About her? She opened her mouth and closed it. No one—not even Steve— had worried about her since her sister Kate had left for the convent. Steve trusted her to act with a level head and she always did.
“You don’t have to worry,” she said with the gentle voice she used to talk to Ariane. “I know my way. I jog along that path every morning. And I was here last night.”
“At what time?” He sounded like a district attorney.
Mary-Beth shrugged. “Never mind.”
His scowl menaced so fiercely Brigitte cowered. “I called Mary-Beth at three in the morning. She stayed until six because Ariane’s fever rose to 40o Celsius.”
“I seriously considered moving her to the hospital,” Mary-Beth added. “The Motrin I’ve given her worked wonders last night. But the fever came back again,” she explained with a reasonable tone, hoping he had calmed down. “Now, may I finish examining her?”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait.” His scowl relaxed and he focused a gentle look on their little patient.
“I can use a second opinion. If that’s what you mean.”
“I trust your judgment. The medical one.”
Did he imply she was lacking otherwise? At the moment, Dr. Malroux would not appreciate a comment on his lack of judgment. She swallowed a snappy retort. “So why are you waiting?”
“To escort you home when you are done. You don’t expect me to let you run alone again through the fields?”
No need to contradict him in front of his own villagers, when he was so irate on her account. “Whatever you want.” She resumed sliding the
stethoscope on Ariane’s back. “I hear a wheezing I don’t like. It wasn’t there last night. Can you check?” She handed him her stethoscope. “I think the poor sweetheart has the croup.”
“Open your mouth, my little doll,” Yves tickled Ariane under her chin. The girl chuckled and obeyed. “I will go back to the chateau and get her an antibiotic,” he said after examining her carefully.