“Thank goodness,” Kate breathed.
“If you have no objection, I'd like to call in a plastic surgeon to work on the skin. I can handle the mechanics but Alice Reiffel is terrific on the aesthetics. When she finishes a job, there's barely a scar.”
Kate quailed inwardly at the thought of the expense; she was sure her health insurance didn't run to plastic surgery. But she wasn't about to turn down anything that would aid in Clay's full recovery.
“Of course. I appreciate your concern with the outside, too.” She hesitated a moment. “Dr. Lane, my son wants to be a sculptor, so he needs strength and mobility even in his left hand. I just wanted to tell you how much your help means to us.”
The surgeon actually smiled. “So I gather. I told him that after all the physical therapy, his hand may actually be stronger than before.”
“Thank you. When will you operate?”
Dr. Lane looked surprised. “Right now. The sooner the better.”
“Oh,” Kate said. “I didn't realize that you could arrange it so quickly.”
The doctor glanced at Randall Johnson, standing just behind Kate. His expression took on a slightly sardonic cast. “We're always happy to accommodate a friend of Mr. Johnson.”
Kate looked back to see Randall's lips tighten in irritation but all he said was, “Take good care of the boy.”
Dr. Lane raised an eyebrow. “I always take care of my patients. By the way, Mrs. Chilton, you have a very brave son. He didn't even groan during the examination. I wanted to make sure to tell you that.”
“Do you have children, Doctor Lane?”
“Five,” he said with a proud grin.
“I'll tell Clay what you said.” Kate smiled back. “May I see him before you operate?”
“Go on in. We're prepping the operating room, so you have about ten minutes. After that, I'd recommend that you give the reception nurse your cell phone number and then go out and eat. It will be several hours before you can see Clay again.”
Kate turned to Randall. He said, “You go see him and then meet me back here. I'll find a place for us to eat.”
She didn't waste time telling him that she would probably throw up if she put anything in her stomach. She started down the hall to see Clay, then stopped and turned. “Why don't you join me in five minutes? I know Clay would like to see you.”
Randall looked surprised, but he nodded.
As she raced down the hall, Kate thought that, no matter how powerful and self-assured he seemed, Randall Johnson was not without his own vulnerabilities.
Seventeen
“Hello, sweetheart. How are you doing?” Kate asked as she kissed Clay's pale forehead. She sat down very gently on the edge of the examining table.
“The exam wasn't fun,” Clay said with macho understatement.
Kate brushed damp hair away from his face. “Dr. Lane was very impressed with how well you handled the pain. And I don't think he impresses easily.”
“He's cool. He says my hand might actually be stronger when he's finished. Do you think that's true?” Suddenly Clay looked heartbreakingly young and scared.
“I don't think Dr. Lane makes promises that he doesn't expect to keep. He's one of the best hand surgeons in the country, so he's had lots of experience. I wouldn't worry at all.”
Clay's expression relaxed so completely that Kate almost sobbed. Her son's trust in her was gut-wrenching.
“Dr. Lane says he's a sculptor, too, only with living tissues,” he said, and smiled shyly. “He asked me what I enjoyed doing, and I told him about my sculptures.”
Kate liked Dr. Lewis Lane more and more.
Clay's face tightened again. “He said the operation will take several hours. Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Of course I will.”
“Don't you have to go home for Patrick?”
“He's fine with the Costanzas. Don't you worry about anything but getting your hand fixed. We have lots of good friends who will help us, and I'll be here until you're ready to go home.”
“Hello, tough guy,” Randall Johnson's voice came from behind Kate, and she jumped slightly.
“Mr. Johnson!” Clay's face lit up. Kate smiled ruefully and wondered if she should be jealous that her entrance hadn't evoked the same enthusiasm.
“The doctor says you'll have a hand like the Terminator when he's done with you. He might even build in an acetylene torch while he's in there,” Randall said.
Clay chuckled. “I'd rather have a stainless steel clamp.”
“That can be arranged.” Randall dropped one hand gently onto Kate's shoulder. “Speaking of which, I've made arrangements for your mother to sleep here, but you'll have to share a room with her.”
Kate looked up in surprise. “Th-that's great,” she managed to stammer.
The door opened and a nurse bustled in, carrying a hospital gown.
“It's time to suit up the patient. You can pick up a beeper at the reception desk. We'll beep you when you can see this young man again.”
Kate leaned forward and hugged Clay gently. “Everything will be fine. I love you.” She kissed him again.
“He's in good hands with Dr. Lane, pun intended,” the nurse said as she ushered them out the door.
Kate wondered how she would get through the next hours.
“The nurse is right,” Randall said. “Dr. Lane will do the job.”
“I know. I just wish that he were operating on me, not my child.”
Randall put his arm around her shoulders and turned her gently toward the reception desk. “Let's pick up that beeper and leave the cell phone number.”
“I can't leave,” Kate said, taking guilty pleasure in being close to Randall as he steered her down the hall.
“There's a cafeteria here in the hospital.”
“I can't eat, either.”
“I understand your doubts about hospital food, but Ms. Morgan here assures me that the cafeteria serves a good meal,” Randall said, as he handed the nurse his business card and accepted a beeper from her.
Kate caught the smile on the nurse's face and remembered she wasn't the only woman susceptible to Randall's charm. The pile of papers on the nurse's desk suddenly reminded her that she hadn't filled out or signed a single piece of paperwork. She frowned.
“Don't I need to fill out some forms for my son? You don't even have a copy of his insurance card.”
Nurse Morgan shook her head. “Mr. Johnson has taken care of everything. You just worry about helping that boy of yours get better.”
“Thank you,” Kate said with a strained smile. She turned to Randall. “We need to discuss a few things.”
“When we get to the cafeteria,” he said, taking her by the elbow and moving her firmly toward the elevator.
The doors opened and Randall guided her out of the elevator with his hand at the small of her back. Once again, she savored his touch while feeling she shouldn't. Especially now that she was furious with him. And grateful. But furious, too. The warmth of his hand seemed to spread deep into her body. She felt chilled when he moved it away to pick up a tray and hand it to her.
Kate slid her tray along the metal shelf, randomly picking up plates of food. She decided not to argue when Randall paid for everything. She had a bigger battle to fight.
“I truly appreciate everything you've done,” she began after they had settled at a table in a quiet corner.
“If you thank me one more time, I'm going to sit at another table,” Randall said, cutting into a slice of meat loaf.
“Don't tempt me,” Kate said before she could stop herself.
Randall's smile flashed. “I know you've been dying to read me the riot act for being an arrogant, high-handed pain in the ass. Go right ahead. I prefer that to being smothered in gratitude.”
“Then stop being arrogant and high-handed and rearranging my life,” Kate exploded.
The smile disappeared. “That's an overreaction to filling out a few forms.”
�
�Oh, I'll deal with the forms in a minute.” She had just remembered something else that Clay's accident had pushed right out of her mind.
“I met Lidden Hartley today, and I understand that he's a good friend of yours. It's funny that you mentioned me to him, but didn't mention him to me.” With great satisfaction, Kate watched a tiny shadow of discomfort flit across Randall's face. It was gone almost instantly.
“All I did was speed up the inevitable. Yours was the only design that they were seriously considering. Lidden just needed to be comfortable with a newcomer to the business. That's the way the world works.” He jabbed his fork into a tomato so hard that it squirted seeds halfway across the table.
“So everyone keeps telling me. I'm just naive enough to want to get a job on my own merits.”
“It's not naiveté, it's pride. One of the seven deadly sins, sweetheart.”
“And one with which you are intimately acquainted.”
“Oh, I'm pretty well acquainted with most of the deadly seven. It makes life interesting.” Randall's drawl was suddenly in evidence.
“Is that why you're doing all this? For lust?” Kate snapped. Randall's fork stopped in midair. She braced herself as he slowly set down his fork and sat back in his chair.
“Don't flatter yourself, darlin'. I don't need to pull strings to get lucky.”
“No, you don't.” Kate's anger had turned to guilt. He had actually looked hurt when she accused him of base motives. But she was still confused. “So why? Why did you talk to Lidden Hartley?”
Randall looked away. “It came up in conversation.” He picked up his roll and began systematically tearing it to pieces.
Kate watched him for a moment. “Did the helicopter just come up in conversation? And how about all the paperwork?”
He tossed the roll back onto the plate. “That's what I do. I solve problems. I handle crises. Isn't that why you called me?”
Kate derived an ignoble pleasure from knowing that she was making Randall squirm. She just wished that she knew why he was squirming. “You've arranged everything perfectly, yet you're still here, eating hospital food and waiting.”
He looked toward the cafeteria door. “I'm beginning to wonder about that myself,” he said sardonically.
They both started as a beeper went off. Randall shook his head. “It's not ours.” He leaned forward. “I'm making allowances for you because I know you're worried about Clay. But my patience is limited. Go back to the gratitude.”
He picked up his fork and impaled a piece of meat loaf.
“Okay, but we still have to discuss the paperwork. I assume that you put everything on your bill. I need to have it on my bill.”
“Do you have any idea how much this surgery will cost?”
“No, but that's what health insurance is for.”
“Does yours cover plastic surgery?”
“I'm sure it does.” She knew she didn't sound convincing.
Randall slammed his hand down on the table. “God damn it, Kate, do you know how much money I have?”
Kate was taken aback. “Not exactly, but I can guess the order of magnitude.”
“I doubt it. I have a whole foundation set up just so I can give it away faster. Paying for this operation won't mean anything to me, and I know you can't afford it.”
“And how do you know that?” Kate asked in icy tones.
He ran both hands through his hair in exasperation. “Because you're back at work. You wouldn't be there if you didn't need to be.”
“After what David did to me, I need to restore my self-esteem.”
“Don't give me that touchy-feely crap. Your husband left you without enough money, and you had to go back to work.”
“So you view me as a charity case for your foundation to take care of.”
“You have an offensive tendency to find the worst interpretation for everything I do.”
“I'm sorry.” Kate bit her lip. “I don't mean to sound that way.” She drew in a long breath. “I know that you mean to be helpful. But after everything that's happened, I really do need to stand on my own. I can't let you just sweep down from your mountaintop and solve my problems whenever the mood strikes you.”
“We're back to that, are we? I'm supposed to do exactly what you ask me to do and no more.”
“Yes,” Kate said as tears filled her eyes. “I have nothing to offer you that can make up for all you've done.”
“I think that if we found a nice empty hospital bed, I could demonstrate a few of the things that you have to offer.”
The tears spilled over, but she ignored them. “You always do that.”
“Do what?” Randall asked, taking a sip of coffee.
“Stop the conversation with some crude comment.”
He smiled unpleasantly. “I believe you brought the topic up first.”
“I'm going back to the waiting room,” Kate said, standing up and walking away before his coffee cup could hit the table.
Randall watched her go. He needed to think. When a cafeteria worker asked him if he was finished with his dinner, he gave a single nod of assent and continued to brood.
The distinctive double ring of his private cell phone number roused him. Gail was screening all his calls so this was either an emergency or a friend.
“Randall, Tom here. Are you still at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“How's the patient?”
“Lane is confident that he can repair the damage. The boy will need some physical therapy, but he should be fine.”
“That's good news. How's his mother holding up?”
“As well as can be expected. She's worried, she's guilty. She's pissed off at me.”
“What?”
“She doesn't want the easy stuff, Tom.”
“The easy stuff?” Tom's confusion came clearly through the line.
“Things like helicopter rides and hand surgeons standing by. Money. Influence. The easy stuff.”
“I see,” Tom said with both understanding and amusement in his voice. “What does she want?”
“That's the million dollar question, isn't it?”
Tom was silent. Then he said seriously, “What do you want, Randall?”
Randall was silent for a long minute. “That's the two million dollar question.”
Kate quickly swiped tear marks away as she hurried back to the waiting room feeling like an over-wound spring. She was worried about Clay. She was hungry and had a headache. She had just antagonized the man whom she should be down on her knees thanking.
Randall Johnson. When she fought with him, she was really battling with her own weaknesses. She could admit that to herself. Her new world was still being rebuilt. If she tried to make him a part of it...well, he would become a wrecking ball. She couldn't control him and even worse, she couldn't control her own response to him. Yet she kept inviting him in. Again and again.
What should she do? She sighed. An apology was certainly in order. Then she needed to somehow discharge her debt to him without becoming further involved. She grimaced at the impossibility of that.
Well, she had gotten herself into this position, and she would just have to find a way to get herself out. Once Clay was on the road to recovery.
Slow footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned around.
Randall stopped, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down.
Kate drew in a deep breath to begin her apology.
“I owe you an apology,” Randall said. He looked at her from under lowered black brows. “It's just that every time I see you, I want to drag you into the nearest broom closet and make love to you until we're both limp.”
Kate laughed, torn between embarrassment and relief. “I can't picture you limp.”
Randall smiled back, bringing out the deepest creases beside his mouth. “I'll take that as a compliment. Truce?” he said, holding out his hand.
His hand swallowed hers as she slid her palm into his grasp. “Truce. It was
unforgivable of me to be so rude when you've been nothing but generous and helpful.”
“Don't overdo it. I've been wrong, too,” he reminded her. He let go of her hand. “If you'll give me your insurance card, I'll make sure that it's on Clay's admittance forms.”
“A concession,” Kate said as she dug into her pocketbook for the card. “This really is a truce! Now what do I have to concede?”
“Use your imagination, darlin',” Randall drawled, taking the card and walking away.
Kate checked her watch, paced around the waiting area, and wondered how she was going to get through another two hours. She was examining a painting on the wall when Randall returned and gave her back her insurance card. “All taken care of.”
She smiled at him. “Doing what you do best.”
Randall's answering smile was brief. He walked over to the coffeemaker, fiddled with a foam cup, then said abruptly, “You want to know what I want from you?”
“Ye-e-es...”
“I want you to look at me like you did on the roof today.”
“How did I look at you?” she asked, startled.
“Like you were glad to see me.”
Kate blinked hard against tears that welled up again. “You have no idea how glad I was to see you,” she whispered.
His eyes locked with hers, and they both went completely still.
“Tell me.”
“Mr. Johnson, your delivery is here,” the reception nurse called out.
Randall gave Kate an unreadable look as he strode past her.
A man dressed in a chef's white side-buttoned coat stood at the desk with two coolers. Randall greeted him and handed one cooler to the nurse, saying, “I figured that you might be ready for some dessert.”
“From the Four Seasons? I'd have settled for some dinner rolls!” the nurse joked.
Randall picked up the second cooler and brought it back into the waiting room. Pulling over a low table, he started setting containers of food out on it. Kate watched him with her arms crossed, and her eyebrows raised. Randall finally straightened and met her eyes.
“I couldn't blame you for not eating the dreck in the cafeteria, so I ordered something edible.”
A Bridge to Love Page 19