by Anne, Melody
“I’m your teacher,” he said. “And there are no stupid questions when you’re a resident. You don’t learn if you don’t ask.” Then he walked into the OR, leaving Patsy to finish on her own. She felt slightly chastised and definitely put in her place. She needed to have respect for him as a doctor if not as a man.
She joined him a few minutes later and spent the next couple hours getting to know more about the man than she’d already known—in a positive way. He was focused and patient and a good teacher. He was also saving this child from horrific scarring that could follow him the rest of his life.
When they finished, they carefully scrubbed away the mess from the surgery before Kyle turned to her. With the surgery over, Patsy had the need to run away quickly, go back to the silence that had followed them since they’d slept together.
“Would you like to speak to the parents with me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. She wasn’t often asked to do this. That far outweighed her need to flee.
She followed him through the hall to a patient room where a woman lay in the bed, bandages on her head and hand, her eyes puffy and swollen, tears still falling down her cheeks. She looked as if she’d been in an accident.
A man sat next to her bed, his own eyes red and swollen. He stood as soon as they entered the room. “How’s our son?” he asked, terror and hope in his voice.
Patsy stood back as Kyle approached the terrified parents. “Andrew is going to be fine,” he assured them both, moving close to the mom and taking the seat next to her as he reached for her uninjured hand. “We were able to save some of the skin and get all of the burned flesh removed. After he’s had some time to heal, we’ll do a skin graft that I believe will attach beautifully. Not only are his vitals stable, but you’ll be able to recognize your beautiful baby boy with no problem,” he assured them.
The mother burst into more tears as she squeezed Kyle’s hand. The father sat next to him and thanked him repeatedly.
“It’s okay to let it out. You’ve been through a lot today. But you and your son are both going to be okay,” Kyle told the mother again.
“I should’ve been paying more attention to traffic, and I would’ve seen that car. I did this,” she said, her sobs making her words barely recognizable.
Kyle squeezed her fingers. “The officer said a drunk driver hit you. There was nothing you could’ve done to stop this,” he told her. “Don’t blame yourself. Work on healing so when Andrew’s ready to go home you can take care of him. You’ve been protecting him from the beginning of his life. It might be a little rough for a few months, but you’re doing a beautiful job. He’s healthy and happy, and that’s why it was easy for me to do his surgery. If he’d been malnourished or you hadn’t been taking such good care of him, this could’ve gone an entirely different way.”
“Thank you for that,” the mother said, her sobs breaking Patsy’s heart.
“Of course. It was my pleasure, and I’ll be following up with him every couple of hours, and when I’m gone, the staff knows they can page me at any time. I won’t let anything happen to him—not on my watch,” he assured them before turning. “This is Dr. Lander. She assisted in the surgery and did a beautiful job with Andrew’s stitches.”
Patsy stepped forward. “Your son was in very good hands with Dr. Armistead. I’ve never seen a better job done or so much care put into a surgery,” Patsy assured the parents.
“Thank you, Dr. Lander. Thank you so much,” the father said.
Kyle continued speaking with the parents while Patsy slipped from the room, a tear sliding down her face. She wanted to think of Kyle as nothing more than a playboy plastic’s doctor, but it was getting more and more difficult to look at him that way.
The care he’d shown with that baby had been beautiful, and the way he’d spoken to the parents wasn’t common in a lot of doctors. But just because he was an excellent surgeon didn’t mean he was a good partner.
Yes, she’d been avoiding him . . . but he hadn’t done anything to stop her from doing so. As grateful as she was to do these surgeries, she’d rather not share an OR with him. It was too confusing for her already befuddled brain.
She went home that night more confused than ever, wondering what it all meant.
Chapter Twenty
One thing about working in a hospital when you were trying to avoid the messiness of your life was that you were so busy you didn’t have time to dwell on anything but work.
For the next few days Patsy did little more than pass Kyle in the hallways as she moved from patient to patient and doctor to doctor. The heated gazes exchanged between the two of them let Patsy know he was remembering their night together just as vividly as she was.
But when they were at work, sex was pushed to the back of her brain. As long as she didn’t see him, she was fine.
The rare moments she was home, though . . . well, those moments were filled with images of their bodies entwined, of how it felt to be in bed with Kyle, held by him, filled with him.
Luckily she wasn’t home a heck of a lot, and when she was, her time was filled with her clumsy, beautiful dog, or she was passed out, too tired to think straight, let alone agonize over something that wasn’t meant to be.
Patsy learned more and more every day, and for that she was grateful. She knew her love would be emergency medicine. She enjoyed working with Doctor Kian Forbes more than any of the other surgeons. He was patient and knowledgeable, and every time a plastic surgeon was needed in the ER, he paged her.
It made her feel special.
And it had the added benefit of keeping her away from Kyle most of the time; his specialty was cosmetics, which was not what she wanted to do. Breast implants and eyelifts were great and all, but she wanted slashes and wounds and putting people back together like a puzzle. That, to her, was the most satisfying.
“You look like you’re a million miles away.”
Patsy’s hand stilled as she worked on delicate facial stitching. She paused as she looked at Dr. Forbes, who was grinning at her.
“I might’ve noticed some mumbling going on there,” he said with a laugh.
“I tend to talk to myself when I allow my mind to go too many places,” she answered with an embarrassed shrug.
“I think we all do that,” Kian told her.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try not to get distracted.” The patient should always come first. She didn’t want Kian kicking her out of the OR because she was being foolish.
“If this is you distracted, I can’t wait to see what happens when you aren’t,” he told her. “You’re an excellent surgeon with an eye for detail.”
His praise warmed her. Of course she loved working with him. He made her feel good about herself.
“Thank you for teaching me so much,” Patsy said as she put the final stich in her patient then examined the area to be sure.
“It’s easy to teach someone so willing to learn,” Kian told her. “This is great. We’re all done.”
She beamed at him. He didn’t have to go over anything she’d done, the greatest compliment he could give her. They’d definitely have to keep an eye on the patient and make sure everything was healing nicely, that the skin would come together without any abscesses, but for now they were finished.
She stepped away from the table and removed her gloves as they walked into the scrub room together.
“You have a few days off, don’t you?” Kian asked as they stood side by side at the sink.
Patsy sighed. Too much time off wasn’t good for her peace of mind. “Yeah, but I told them they could call anytime. If there are any emergencies I hope you’ll page me.”
Kian laughed. “You’ve had plenty of time here. Get refreshed. You’ll be a better surgeon for it,” he said.
With that Kian left and Patsy headed to the locker room. She always peeked through the door, making s
ure Kyle wasn’t in there before she stepped inside. It was silly and foolish. It wasn’t as if he was going to press her against the wall and take her right then and there . . . but the thought of him doing that made her heart thump and her blood heat.
She could try to avoid him all she wanted, but she missed him. She missed him more than she dared admit to herself.
She rushed through a shower and changed, her body so worn out she might sleep for the next twenty-four hours. That would be pure heaven. Her dog wouldn’t like it too much, but he’d understand.
She needed to sleep, then she had a dinner with her sis the next day that would most likely lead to more interrogations from not only her sis, but the entire family. She’d do well to rest up before that happened.
Freedom from the walls she was grateful to be in was a light shining through the dark as Pasty quickly made her way through the hospital. She didn’t know what Kyle’s schedule was, but with her away from her apartment and the hospital for a few days, she’d surely pull herself together enough that when she did see him again she’d be completely fine with the situation.
Maybe they’d even end up friends.
She stepped outside, intent on hailing a cab and getting home as quickly as possible. But as she raised a hand she heard the voice that haunted her day and night only inches behind her.
“Hello, Dr. Lander. It’s been a while,” he said, his voice low, sexy, and intimate. She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, and her mind quickly took her back to his dark bedroom, making a shudder rush through her.
Trying to be as strong as she possibly could, she slowly turned, prepared for the hit to her gut from looking into his eyes. There wasn’t enough time to prepare for that slow burn brewing in his gaze. Heat. Hunger. Humor. It was all there. He scanned her face, and it felt as if he’d touched her.
“Hi,” she said lamely, her voice breathy as if she’d run a damn marathon.
“Have we been playing hide and seek?” he asked. She was confused. At least that made her desire temper a bit.
“What?” she asked. It felt as if it was just the two of them.
“I don’t recall having a woman try so hard to avoid me,” he told her. There was definite humor in his eyes, but something else lay just beneath. She’d think it was hurt, but that would be insane.
Kyle Armistead had a thousand people in his life. All he had to do was crook his finger and women would line up to be with him. There was no way Patsy’s avoidance could upset him in the least little bit.
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she said, forcing out a laugh. “I’ve been super busy.” She was going to add more, but the humor in his eyes stopped her. He was very aware of her lie. “Okay, maybe I have avoided you. I haven’t done this before, and I . . .”
She stopped talking and waited for him to help her out. It seemed he was willing to let her go on and on. That wasn’t very gentlemanly of him.
“Haven’t done what before?” he asked.
Her face instantly flamed, which ticked her off. She was a surgeon, dammit, not some naïve teenage girl after an awkward experience in the back of his daddy’s truck.
“I don’t sleep with co-workers or my bosses,” she said, trying to sound as if it was no big deal for her to be saying this to him. “What we did was a one-time thing and well, it’s awkward right now, as much as I don’t want it to be.” She didn’t add that she couldn’t look at him without thinking of his spectacular body . . . naked and hard.
She really wanted an earthquake to hit right about now, or anyone from the hospital to join them. Anything to end this torturous conversation.
“I thought we were friends,” he said.
She looked at him again. “We’ve never been friends,” she pointed out.
He smiled, but there seemed to be stress in the expression. It went away so quickly she thought she had to be imagining that. Kyle was a world-renowned plastic surgeon who had the Midas touch in the operating room. He didn’t need her in his life.
“I want to be friends,” he told her. “Let’s have dinner and start over.”
She gaped at him for a few seconds. Then she sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We really don’t have anything in common.”
“We’re both surgeons,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s definitely something in common.” Heat returned to his gaze and she knew exactly what else he was thinking about.
“There are lots of surgeons here for you to be friends with,” she said.
Again that hint of hurt flashed in his eyes; it had to be her imagination, what she wanted to see. Though for the life of her she couldn’t imagine why.
“But I haven’t slept with any of them and then had them sneak out of my bed and avoid me afterward,” he told her.
Her cheeks flamed bright red as she looked around to make sure no one had heard him. She turned back and glared.
“This isn’t an appropriate talk to have here,” she said. “I don’t need rumors spread about me.”
“I agree. We’ll do dinner and talk inappropriately away from the hospital.”
She was flabbergasted, but she let him take her arm and lead her toward the parking garage. They were nearly halfway to his car before she began to protest.
She stopped herself. Maybe this was a talk they needed to have. Otherwise he’d keep on making inappropriate comments at the hospital, and she knew for sure it didn’t take much for the grapevine to hear in the halls. She’d never been part of the gossip discussion, but she’d heard about co-workers and didn’t want the same for herself.
“I guess we’re doing to dinner,” she said when they reached his car. He laughed, and it made her grind her teeth. “You aren’t a man who often takes no for an answer, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” he said, the humor fading as he gazed intimately at her. “Especially when it’s something I want.”
A shudder passed through her. He couldn’t mean he wanted her. That was ridiculous. Yeah, the sex had been great, and yeah he was chasing her now, but that was only because she’d been elusive. As soon as he won his prize he’d lose interest.
And that was for the best.
She didn’t reply as she slipped into his car. They would have dinner, she would put her foot down, then this would all stop.
Easy.
Patsy refused to think nothing in life was quite that cut and dry. What she wanted to think about was much better.
Dinner.
That was all. Nothing more. She could do it. Then Kyle would be nothing but a distant memory.
Yeah, and she’d put down her scalpel and try space travel. That was just as likely.
Let the dinner begin.
Chapter Twenty-One
Patsy never enjoyed dating. That might seem odd to some people, but dating wasn’t relaxing, it was a lot of work. It required sharing personal information about yourself, and trying to dig out information on the other person. That wasn’t something she liked or was good at.
What was the worst kind of date? Hands down, the answer was dinner. Why was the standard date a dinner at a restaurant? Why did you need to sit across the table from essentially a stranger and have everything about you judged? What kind of food would you choose? Was it kosher? We’re you drinking too little or too much? Should it be white wine or red? What if you wanted a beer? What if you wanted water? Were you trying to look after your weight? The questions went on and on and on and on.
With all of that weighing on your mind, how could you relax enough at a meal to get to know another person? It made no sense to Patsy. So of course, given she was already nervous around Kyle, he goes and insists on dinner at a place with other people just dying to listen in on an awkward conversation and laugh about it later.
It actually helped calm her. It would be easy to terminate this relationship, or lack of one, if he was just another
typical guy. She’d been on dinner dates before and there hadn’t been a single good memory from having dinner together.
Kyle led her into an upscale restaurant, another strike in the negative column. It was worse to go to some high-end place where she couldn’t understand the menu. It didn’t matter that once her sister had married into the Titan family, she’d been surrounded by wealth.
Though the Titan’s were incredibly wealthy, they weren’t snobby at all. Yes, she’d dined at some nice places, but her favorite memories of being with that family were pizza and game nights, theme parks, and family barbecues. Nothing spectacular happened at a fancy restaurant. Not ever.
“You seem uncomfortable. Do you not like this place?” Kyle asked as they were sat at a table.
She shrugged, trying to pull herself from negative thoughts. Patsy didn’t focus on the bad. Maybe that was another strike against this man. She didn’t like how it made her think about herself.
“I’ve never been here,” she told him as she gazed at the menu; nothing on it looked appealing.
He stared at her a few moments and smiled. The waiter appeared and asked if they’d like something to drink. Patsy internally sighed. This meal would take at least two hours. She’d much rather be in her pajamas eating pizza than sit through two dull hours.
Kyle’s laugh startled her out of her thoughts once more. Then he surprised her when he stood. The waiter’s expression didn’t change. He was obviously used to eccentric customers.
“We’re leaving. Thank you,” Kyle told the man.
“Is there something I can change?” the man asked, keeping his expression neutral.
“Nope. The lady obviously doesn’t want to be here,” Kyle told the waiter. Kyle pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the man before holding out his hand to Patsy who looked at him in confusion.
“There’s no need to make a scene,” she said, unsure of what to do now.
“No scene. We’re going,” Kyle told her.
Patsy didn’t want to be there, but she was surprised Kyle had noticed. She believed she’d kept her thoughts to herself. She gave him her hand and instantly felt better as they exited the place.