Her Texas Rescue Doctor

by Caro Carson

  That little frown of worry appeared again. “You don’t get to find out how your patients are doing?”

  “Not often. I do my best while they’re here and discharge them with instructions and prescriptions and referrals. Whether they use them or not is up to them.”

  She touched him. There was no purpose to it, not like there was when he touched someone. She just laid her hand on his arm, not pressing, not squeezing, not demanding. “You must be a very special kind of person, then. I couldn’t do your job. I’d go crazy wondering how everyone is.”

  He’d brought her out here because he was concerned about her anxiety, the hand wringing and the pencil breaking. If she worried for the whole world like this, then he supposed she must always need an outlet for her emotions. He hadn’t meant to add himself to her list of people to worry about.

  He’d been on his feet for hours, and he was ready for a break. The unexpected influx of afternoon patients was under control. He could take a few minutes now, with her. He nodded toward the empty metal bench that was usually occupied by a paramedic or firefighter whose emergency vehicle was parked outside the ER’s portico.

  The curved steel of the bench couldn’t have felt better after hours of standing. The woman by his side couldn’t have been more beautiful to look at. The sun was shining, the weather was perfect...

  Life was never that simple. He’d brought her out here for a reason. Something about her relationship with Sophia Jackson was setting off his suspicions. I’m sorry for being mean to you her boss had said to her, but of course, Jackson had almost immediately excused her own bad behavior by bringing up the pneumonia. It won’t happen again. I’ll make it up to you. How many times had a woman with a black eye heard that from the man who’d hurt her?

  He doubted Sophia Jackson physically hurt Grace, but she was still pulling some emotionally manipulative stunts. Why did Grace put up with it? There had to be other jobs, other people she could work for. He’d brought her outside because he was concerned about all these things, but now she was concerned for him.

  “Don’t all these people weigh on your mind? How do you handle the not knowing?”

  Maybe she was hoping he’d give her some advice on controlling worry. He rubbed his jaw and looked past a red ambulance to focus on a green cypress tree. The solitary evergreen pillar thrived in its allotted space in a median strip, surrounded by the concrete of the hospital parking lot. “I’ve found it helps if you choose their fate. Use your imagination. I helped a little girl with significant respiratory distress yesterday. I did everything I could to educate her family about asthma triggers. Today, I wondered if that family filled their script for the asthma inhalers. Did they stop smoking for her sake?” He fell silent, knowing the odds that smokers faced. Nicotine was as addicting as narcotics.

  Grace prompted him with her gentle voice. “And you decided yes, the parents must have done the right thing and given up smoking?”

  “I’m not so vain to think I can convince people to give up a lifelong addiction with one conversation.” He glanced at her face, at her hopeful expression. “But I decided I was good enough at my job to persuade that family to never again smoke while that child is in the car with them. That’s something.”

  “You’re an optimist, then. I wouldn’t have guessed that was hidden behind your—those—ah, never mind.”

  “Behind my what?”

  She was blushing and utterly charming to him. She made a little gesture toward his face and shrugged.

  “Behind my glasses? Are you afraid I’m insulted by that? I know I have glasses on.” He took off his glasses. “Contacts are tough when shifts run into the next day without warning.”

  He looked at her as he wiped the lenses with a corner of his white coat, and thought the softer focus suited her.

  Grace blinked again. Adapting to what? Surely her chemistry had settled down.

  She cleared her throat. “I was going to say I didn’t think you were an optimist behind that poker face. You don’t give much away when you’re in there, being a doctor.”

  He put his glasses back on, sliding them into place with one knuckle. He hoped his poker face didn’t slip. He wasn’t an optimist at all, but he didn’t want to add to Grace’s apparent worries. He couldn’t tell her about the patients whose fates he did learn, the little girls who returned to the ER with blue lips, gasping for air, smelling like the cigarettes their families still smoked around them, triggering their asthma attacks for which the inhaler prescription had never been filled. Reality was too often bitter. It made a man hard.

  An optimist wouldn’t meet a movie star and assume her personal assistant was somehow trapped by her.

  “When I discharge Sophia Jackson, what kind of living situation will she be in?” It was a legitimate question, one he asked every patient to be sure they could follow their treatment plan. What he really wanted to know was Grace’s living arrangements. He had no professional justification for investigating this. He was just...

  Abusing my position to satisfy an unhealthy curiosity about this woman?

  It didn’t matter. He wanted to know that Grace was going to be okay when she walked out of the ER and out of his life. He wanted to be able to imagine a better fate for her than fetching and carrying for a diva, having her self-esteem chipped away with each selfish demand.

  “Will you be with her, or will Miss Jackson be living alone?”

  Grace seemed to sink a little bit, without slouching or changing her posture at all. “I’m her personal assistant. Where she goes, I go.”

  “Even at night? You live together?”

  At Grace’s nod, he felt a distinct disappointment. It was almost like finding out she belonged to another man. Spoken for. Unavailable.

  Again, he was annoyed with himself. It was absurd to be disappointed that all her time was devoted to another person. It wasn’t like he’d intended to ask her out for dinner.

  He needed to behave like a doctor. “It’s good that she won’t be alone, because she’s going to have a hard time getting around. Even with the hard boot, she won’t be able to touch her foot to the ground without pain for at least twenty-four hours. She’ll need assistance getting in and out of the shower, for example. Do you feel comfortable giving her that kind of aid? If not, I can write orders for a visiting nurse who can help her with personal care.”

  Grace turned her face away, looking as he had toward the distant cypress tree. “She taught me how to brush my teeth. We’ve been sharing a bathroom our whole lives. Sophia Jackson is my sister.”

  Family.

  All the pieces fell into place. A bright angel, subjecting herself to servitude. A movie star, bossing around a valuable employee without fear that she’d quit. Sisters... Of course.

  I really took it out on you. It won’t happen again.

  No one could hurt you like family could hurt you.

  Papa. Mama.

  He firmly pushed the memories back where they belonged.

  There were no bruises on Grace. Her sister might be using the same soundtrack that most abusers used, but Grace wasn’t physically scared of her sister. When it came to emotional manipulation, Alex was too pragmatic to believe he could help her unravel any knots of family power struggles, not during a five-minute break on a metal bench. His own family was so fractured, he had no advice to give.

  As for his attraction to her, it was irrelevant. She lived in Hollywood; he lived in Texas. She chased fame; he helped the injured. There was no reason for him to invest energy and effort when there was no possibility of a lasting relationship.

  But he wouldn’t let his moment with Grace end yet. He needed to find out what she was going back to—what his patient was going back to, as well—what was behind the white lips and broken pencil when the name Deezee was mentioned. Sophia might not be hurting her sister, but someone n
amed Deezee could be.

  Who was he, and why was Grace scared of him?

  * * *

  Dr. Gregory had fallen silent next to her.

  Grace had said she’d help her sister in and out of the shower, and now he had nothing to say. Perhaps he’d been struck speechless at the image of Sophia Jackson in the shower. That was pretty typical of most guys. He didn’t have a smile on his face, though, not even the ghost of a smirk.

  Grace had also told him she was Sophia’s sister. She resigned herself to the more likely possibility that he was quiet while he, like everyone else, studied her face, looking for the resemblance. Sisters? I never would have guessed.

  Being told she didn’t look like her own sister was a fairly new phenomenon in the overall course of her life. As little girls, they’d worn matching dresses and been declared darling. Even during her first two years of high school, every time she’d had a teacher that Sophia had already had, Grace had been told how she looked so much like her sister. It was only the stardom of the last few years that had begun separating them.

  Sophia had acquired the polish and appearance of a star, that indefinable something that made people do a double take. Some of it was professional makeup, professional hair, and hours and hours of professional fitness training. Yet even without those things, Sophia still had a wow factor that Grace just didn’t have. Sophia had been born with that charisma. She’d also been in the drama club, taken theater classes in college and developed a stage presence, but some gifts couldn’t be taught, and Grace had always been proud to have such a gifted sister.

  She was still proud of Sophia. This was only a phase. Grace just had to get Deezee out of their lives. Would Sophia ever consider Clark Kent?

  Maybe, if they stayed away from LA long enough. Maybe, but no one could fall in love with someone they only met once. Grace needed to arrange more time between Dr. Gregory and Sophia.

  “We’re at the Hotel Houston,” she said, before she could chicken out. “In Austin. It’s called Houston, but it’s not far from here.”

  “I know it. Very nice. I’m sure the concierge will help you get some chicken soup for your sister. Hot beverages and hot, steamy showers will help loosen up the debris in her lungs.”

  Back to the shower fantasy, then. Grace felt glum about that, although it boded well for the hope that he might become a future brother-in-law. But Sophia wouldn’t give the doctor or anyone else a chance, not if Grace couldn’t keep Deezee away. “And she’s contagious, and definitely can’t be around other people right now, right?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve asked that. Are you afraid you’ll catch something, or are you afraid of someone else?”

  A little shiver threatened to go down her spine. He was looking at her so intently as he asked.

  “Afraid? I guess I should be. Sophia Jackson causing an epidemic would be a terrible headline to try to spin.” Grace sighed, realizing her plan to replace Deezee with this serious man was a laughably long shot. She couldn’t explain how her sister needed saving and then expect him to turn into Superman and sweep her away to safety. Grace couldn’t dictate who Sophia fell in love with, and she couldn’t prevent her from throwing her life away on a selfish jerk like Deezee.

  Grace knew that. She did. She just wished...

  She looked at the cypress tree again, a single, tall pillar of green in the middle of an acre of asphalt. A lonely pillar. “I wish I was as good as you are at imagining that everything will work out okay.”

  He turned toward her, laying his arm along the back of the bench. She was aware that his hand rested on the bench just behind her shoulder blades, right behind her spine, the very spine she needed to stiffen.

  “Is everything not okay with you?” he asked.

  She didn’t want to have a spine of steel. She wanted to melt into his arms. “Isn’t everything not okay with everyone? We all have our little troubles, right? Everyone’s fighting their own battle.”

  She was babbling, fighting the desire to lean into him, into Alex Gregory, MD, according to the embroidery on his coat. Can I call you Alex? Tell you all my worries?

  “Grace, you can talk to me.”

  Okay, that was a little scary. He was like the perfect guy.

  But he was a doctor. He meant she could talk to him about medical things. “I don’t think I’ve caught anything from her. I’m a generally healthy person.”

  He was studying her again. She didn’t know when anyone else had ever looked at her so closely. She was only an assistant, for goodness’ sake. Keeper of the lipstick and the schedule. What was there for him to see?

  “I’m fine. Honest.”

  Alex Gregory, MD, began unbuttoning his white coat. He stood and shrugged out of it. The scrub pants she’d seen beneath his coat were matched by a loose green scrub shirt that had been pulled on over a long-sleeved white knit shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He sat back down, coat folded over his arm. “There. Now I’m not a doctor. Call me Alex. I’m not asking you about your health. You’re not my patient. There are no legal obligations for me to report anything you want to tell me. Is there anyone you’re scared of?”

  “Listen, Dr. Gregory—”

  “It’s Alex.”

  His stethoscope was still hanging around his neck. She tried not to stare too long at the dusting of dark hair in the V-neck of his top. “You still look like a doctor.”

  He waited, silent.

  “I’m sorry,” Grace said. “It’s not you. I just don’t talk to anyone except Sophia. I can’t. Everyone else, from the limo driver to a cashier at the grocery store, could make some money selling tales to tabloids, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know. I wouldn’t know how to go about finding a tabloid to sell anything to.”

  “They’d find you.”

  “We’re opposites, then. You can only talk to Sophia, and I can’t talk about Sophia at all. Not legally. She’s my patient, so the tabloids will be out of luck if they find me.” He smiled at her a bit, a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes behind those frames. “I don’t have any restrictions when it comes to you. Do you think the tabloids would offer me money to hear about you?”

  “I’m nobody.”

  “Me, too. But I’d rather you called me Alex.”

  The little joke was pleasant, coming from such a serious man, but she couldn’t find it in herself to return his smile. The desire to tell someone about her fears was painful. She looked over her shoulder out of habit. No one was in earshot, and Dr.—Alex—was sitting right here, all blue-eyed concern. God, she hadn’t had a friend in a million years.

  “Sophia’s got herself mixed up with a terrible guy. A new boyfriend.”

  “Is that Deezee?”

  “You’ve heard of him.” She sat back, determined not to say anything else.

  He tapped her back lightly with the hand that had been resting behind her shoulders. “I hadn’t heard of him until ten minutes ago. You turned white when his name was mentioned.”

  “DJ Deezee Kalm? That doesn’t ring any bells?”

  He shook his head.

  “He’s the first guy she’s been interested in for years, but I don’t know why. He’s awful for her. He’s awful to her.”

  “This boyfriend is abusive?”

  “Persuasive.”

  “Persuading her to do what, exactly?”

  Grace wasn’t sure how to answer that. Everything sounded melodramatic. Deezee was persuading her sister to throw away her career. Persuading her to destroy her own reputation. Persuading her to push away her own baby sister.

  “Nothing that’s really illegal.” Even yelling at a police officer wasn’t illegal. It was just horrible.

  The thought of police made her think of the other patient Alex
was dealing with this afternoon. “Oh—did you think he was like a Mr. Burns? Nothing like that. Deezee has just been persuading her to be mean to me. Not exactly a crime, is it?”

  But how nice that Alex had been worried about her, like a big brother. She felt tears threatening. She started to get up, ready to go back inside.

  He stopped her with a question. “How long has this been going on?”

  She was startled into silence. He wanted to know more, even though she’d given him the easy out. Without physical abuse, it was hard to explain how poisonous Deezee was. A boyfriend was setting one sister against the other—no big deal, not enough to make an episode of reality television. Alex could easily dismiss her complaint as drama, but the way he’d said How long has this been going on? sounded like he thought this was significant. She could have kissed him for taking her seriously.

  “They met at a thing in Telluride, three months ago. He’s not as big a star as Sophia is, not nearly, but he hired a very well-known publicist. That’s who introduced them. Sophia never would have met him, otherwise. She doesn’t do the club scene, or at least she didn’t do the club scene before Deezee. She doesn’t know any of the D-list wannabes that he hangs out with, and—” She clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified. “That sounded so snobby.”

  Her parents had raised her better. Each kid at school was to be treated the same, whether one wore expensive sneakers or one didn’t. Having money hadn’t made kids superior then, and being more famous didn’t make her sister superior now.

  Except it did. Those things mattered in Hollywood.

  “She is an A-list celebrity. She earned that. It’s not a matter of being photogenic or even being a good actress. She never fails to make her call. She’s always prepared. I know I sounded bad just now about the D-list, but Sophia isn’t snobby like that. By the time she leaves a set, the entire crew is always in love with her because she’s nice to everyone. It’s kind of sad that saying hello to the other people on the set is enough to make you stand out, but that’s Hollywood, I guess. Anyway, her good reputation makes people want her on their projects.”