by Connie Cox
Instead, he’d thrown himself into his studies, the one thing he could always count on in his life to distract him from his grief.
Cole gathered up the remains of his meal and threw it in the trash.
Nothing about Bella should matter to him. How could he make himself stop wanting her? Why, after fifteen years, was he still asking himself that question? It was about time he found an answer.
Cole stretched, trying to stop the dull throbbing in his left shoulder that traveled down his arm to his fingertips—the results of tensing during surgery.
“Long surgeries will cramp you up, won’t they?”
“Yes, they will. Occupational hazard.” Only the surgery hadn’t taken that long, a mere hour and a half compared to the five and six hours of reconstructive surgery Cole was used to performing. And he’d been a consultant while Dr. Wong had done most of the work.
He flexed his numb fingers.
Strained shoulder muscles took a while to right themselves. He’d give it a few more weeks before he had it checked out. Of course, that was what he’d told himself a few weeks ago. Maybe he should schedule a therapeutic massage soon.
Some pain-management specialists studied massage, didn’t they? He reined in that runaway thought. It didn’t really matter what Bella had studied, did it?
The natural high Cole felt after that morning’s successful surgery was starting to fade, replaced by a need he wanted to deny.
Bella.
After only a few short days he had become addicted to that jolt of energy the sight of her gave him.
Neither of them fit with his old memories of a more pubescent, hormonal time. She had changed even more than he had. Why did it matter to him? How could he make it stop mattering?
CHAPTER THREE
AFTER a long, leisurely swim and a nice parboil in the whirlpool, Cole checked his messages before making rounds.
His office manager had made sure his tuxedo was delivered to his hotel room for that night’s special games reception.
He could tell himself he was staying to firm up the partnership, but in reality today’s observance of Dr. Wong in surgery had put all his fears to rest. The lawyers could now go forward without further input from him.
Bella. His own personal temptress. But he was no longer that insecure boy hiding behind bravado. That was what he had to prove to himself. That was why he’d changed his plans. That was why he’d stayed.
He donned his best bedside manner and pushed open the door.
Without a greeting, his patient, Heath Braden, confronted him. “Tell me the truth, Doc. What are my chances of regaining full use of my hand?”
Heath no longer had the grip of a fireman.
Cole made himself look into Heath’s eyes. “Slim. You will be able to do tasks that don’t require as much strength or dexterity as you’ve had in the past, but passing the assessment tests to get back to active duty may not be possible.”
Cole inwardly winced at the fear crossing the young man’s face. He’d seen it time after time—would his loved ones still love him if he wasn’t the man he used to be? Sadly, too often the answer was no, but Heath wasn’t a highly paid athlete with a high-maintenance spouse.
Heath’s wife leaned down to kiss her husband’s forehead. “I don’t love you for your hand. I love you for your heart.”
The emotion between the two made Cole feel superfluous.
He excused himself and headed to the nurses’ station.
Heath’s nurse gave him a rundown of the report. “Mr. Braden’s condition could be easier on him but he doesn’t want to take his pain meds, Dr. Lassiter. He says he doesn’t want his son to see him all drugged up. He wants to be able to focus enough to enjoy his son’s visits.”
Cole understood completely. “The pain meds are for his comfort. Taking them won’t affect the surgery or his recovery as long as he keeps taking the anti-inflammatories. But he will be in quite a bit of pain when he starts his physical therapy rehab. Do we have anyone who could do pain-management counseling with him?”
The nurse nodded. “We have a great therapist on staff who works wonders with biofeedback and hypnotherapy. Her schedule is always booked with a waiting list, though.”
Having enough personnel to go around was always an issue, especially in a teaching-charity hospital like this one.
“Surely she could be convinced to add one more patient to her list. Give me her name and number and I’ll have my staff set up an appointment for Mr. Braden.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re open to cognitive behavior therapy, Dr. Lassiter,” the nurse said as she scrolled through the contact list. “Not everyone is willing to give CBT a chance. But we’ve seen great results as long as the patient trusts and believes in the therapy.”
“I’m open to whatever works.”
The nurse handed him Bella’s contact information on a slip of paper. If Cole had been a fanciful man, he might believe fate was playing tricks on him to throw Bella his way. But it all added up. The hospital sponsored the games and Bella had volunteered, just as he had, to be part of that sponsorship.
Of course, with Adrian, she had a vested interest in the special games. So it was rational, almost inevitable, they would end up in the same medical circles.
The odds of their ending up in the same circle all those years ago had been much higher. And he’d been on the outside perimeter while Bella had been at the center of it all.
He made a quick call to his office manager, giving her Bella’s contact information.
“Monday morning. Make it happen,” he instructed his office manager.
“Yes, Dr. Lassiter. I will.”
He surrounded himself with competent staff, so he could confidently put this problem out of his mind and focus on what was important. But, then, he’d been trying to put Bella Allante out of his mind for the last fifteen years and hadn’t succeeded yet.
As Cole tucked the note in his pocket and turned away, a sharp pain arced through his neck and down his arm. He could use some pain management himself. Could Bella help him work through his pain?
There had to be a high level of trust between a medical professional and a patient, especially with the kind of work Bella did. No, with what they had between them, Bella couldn’t help him. Not if he needed to trust her first.
* * *
Isabella’s hands ached from gripping the steering wheel of her sensible fourteen-year-old car too tightly. Consciously, she relaxed, head to toe. Stress would only eat up the little energy she had left after such a long week.
Pulling into the hotel’s parking lot, Isabella pasted on her social smile and summoned up her last smidgeon of energy, hoping it would be enough to get her through the special games recognition and fundraising event.
If she could find reserves for just a few more hours, she could go home and collapse for the rest of the evening. She might even be tired enough to sleep through her worries about Cole and the paternity discussion they needed to have. Or did they, since he had now gone back to New York, where he belonged?
Starting now, she would forget about this week and go back to providing a safe and predictable world for her son. If life was too predictable for her at times, that was one of the sacrifices of motherhood she willingly accepted for her son’s well-being.
When she’d left Adrian in David’s care, he had been fingering his scarf while hugging the framed photo of Cole that usually sat on his bedside nightstand, all the while keeping a steady pace in the gliding rocker next to her bed. His favorite video played so quietly on the television she could barely hear it. His plastic doctor action figure lay next to the television control within easy reach.
She’d been worried about overstimulation from the active weekend so different from their normal routine. And that had just been from participating in the local games. With Cole on the scene, she would have expected Adrian’s reactions to be all over the board.
Instead, Adrian was taking the appearance of his father in his stri
de while she was struggling to contain her own anxieties.
Take a step back, Bella, she told herself.
She might be borrowing trouble. Cole might have made his once-in-a-lifetime appearance and now be gone for ever and her life could get back to the way she’d organized it.
Illogically, on top of the anger, confusion and relief, that idea made her very sad.
She had explained Cole’s absence to Adrian by telling him Daddy had to work. It was the total truth, and Adrian had understood. Tomorrow, when both she and Adrian were better rested, she would break the news that Cole had gone back to New York.
She wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.
As she had so often since Adrian’s birth, she vowed to live one moment at a time and let the future work itself out—but it was such a hard thing to do for a planner like her.
Tonight Isabella’s job was to work the room, making a subtle plea for donations of time and money to support their local special games, a program her family had always championed before they’d ever had an athlete of their own participating. She recognized most of the faces in the crowd from her inner circle—or what had been her inner circle—as well as from the volunteers who gave so much of their time to make this program work.
Normally she could call up her inner sparkle and zest on demand, but Cole had knocked her off her game.
She smoothed the vintage wool skirt she’d inherited from her mother’s collection of expensive and well-preserved clothing and wished she hadn’t gone with an upswept French twist. Her bare neck made her feel exposed and vulnerable.
From the podium, the local chairperson was giving his standard speech, against a backdrop of happy athletes on a screen behind him. “Three and a half million athletes will train and participate in local games like ours on a state, national and global level. None of this is possible without dedicated volunteers and generous donors.”
While there was no more Allante money to give, Isabella did what she could. One thing she’d been taught from birth had been the social graces that made working a room one of her greatest talents. She just needed to put Cole from her mind, pull herself together and get on with it.
She looked for those not with partners. Group mentality being what it was, a single mixing into a circle of couples took more charm than she had energy to give at the moment.
Being single usually didn’t bother her—or rather she’d been able to bury all her disappointments and regrets. How could she look at her beautiful son and wish her life had been different?
But there were times like tonight, being single in a world of couples, when she felt incredibly, soul-searingly lonely.
She often had to go days, maybe even a full week, without human touch. Although she advised others to make friends with affectionate people, friendships took an investment of time to nurture. If anyone were to accuse her of not being the best at taking her own advice, that person would be right.
Lately, she’d been incredibly busy with her practice. Any time and energy leftover had gone into helping to organize this weekend’s games and fundraiser. Then there had been all the mental work with Adrian so he could ready himself to step outside his routine comfort zone and participate in the games. She could only be stretched so thin.
Thus was the life of a single parent of an autistic child.
But, being a therapist, Isabella knew there was no such thing as a “normal” life. She glanced over at Darla with her practiced expressions of frivolity. One outwardly perfect husband with straight white teeth, a politician’s smile—and a mistress stashed in an apartment downtown that they all pretended didn’t exist.
Then there was Corrine, with her two beautiful, over-achieving daughters, one in rehab and the other fighting bulimia. Corrine, herself dangerously close to being addicted to pain meds, came into her office twice a month, trying to master drug-free ways to control her migraines.
In her private practice catering to the rich and powerful of New Orleans, Isabella knew many of these people’s secrets—which only positioned her even more squarely on the outside, looking in. She was only able to discuss the most banal of topics lest she reveal confidential information. Always on guard, keeping secrets so that everyone appeared perfect on the outside.
But, then, she’d been trained for pretending to be perfect her whole life. Perfectly poised. Perfectly in control. Perfectly satisfied with her solitary life.
David’s mother had made sure she’d learned those lessons when she’d become Isabella’s mother figure after her own mother had died—except for the solitary life one, of course. The plan had been to marry Isabella to her son. It had been a good plan for a while.
What would her life have been like if her fun-loving mother had conquered the breast cancer that had slowly taken her life?
With all her practice, Isabella should be perfect at not looking back and asking what if? Some nights were easier than others.
She glanced around the room. Perfect couples made up of perfect women and perfect men—at least on the surface.
It would take a bona fide perfect man to want her. A man who saw beneath the surface and accepted her and her son, imperfections included.
No chance of finding that perfect man here tonight.
“Thank you to all our volunteers. There would be no games without you. See how you’ve enriched lives,” the local chairman began, as he gestured to the screen showing the athletes with expressions of determination, victory and joy.
As the chairman continued thanking benefactors and volunteers, Isabella let herself get caught up in the images of the athletes, their coaches and parents. This one hundred percent volunteer organization had given both her and Adrian such support and growth. She was proud to be a part of it.
“...thank Dr. Cole Lassiter for being our attending physician on-site. We had need to call on Dr. Lassiter at the last moment, and he rescheduled his own personal plans to answer our call. Excellent job, Dr. Lassiter,” the chairman said as he initiated applause.
Isabella’s stomach lurched when she heard Cole’s name.
He shouldn’t be here, not in her carefully constructed environment. He should be on his way back to New York.
This was her world. Not his.
All the questions Isabella had been trying to bury deep in her subconscious bombarded her mind, making her head hurt.
One thing was for sure, a gala event was not an appropriate setting to discuss relationship issues and complications. Right now she had a party to get through. One moment at a time.
She tamped all those conflicting emotions down deep and put on her brightest smile. Discreetly, she stood on tiptoe to catch sight of the illustrious wonder surgeon, but she couldn’t spot that wavy black hair across the crowded ballroom.
Instead, she found herself elbow to elbow with Dr. Lockhart, one of the sports clinic’s original partners. By his side was his daughter Madelaine. Isabella had gone to school with Madelaine since kindergarten, where they had disliked each other on first sight.
Dr. Lockhart spotted her first. “Isabella, so good to see you. Do you know Dr. Wong? We’ve recently begun to expand and he’s our newest partner.”
Isabella held out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Thank you for coming tonight to support the games, Dr. Wong.”
“It’s just Wong. That’s what all my friends call me.” Dr. Wong took her hand. “It’s my pleasure. I noticed you when you arrived this evening. If I’m not being too forward, perhaps we could dance later.”
He had noticed her? It felt good to be attractive to the opposite sex. The way Wong held on to her hand a little longer than normal flattered her needy ego. If only she felt the same prickles of awareness Cole had raised in her.
For some irrational reason, knowing Cole could be lurking nearby made Isabella feel like she was being disloyal by even thinking such a thing. It was becoming clearer and clearer that she had some issues to work through—and not only those related to her son.
To count
eract her misplaced feelings of guilt, she gave Wong her most flirtatious glance. “I would like that.”
“Isabella’s father was one of the founders of the sports clinic,” Dr. Lockhart told Dr. Wong.
“I remember seeing his name on the plaque in the office waiting room. I understand your father is retired. I would like to meet him. Is he here tonight?” Wong had a nice, easy smile.
“He had a stroke about twelve years ago.” That had been when Isabella had found out about her father’s debt-riddled estate that had become her inheritance and her responsibility.
While she loved her father dearly, his sole passion had been medicine. Anything else, like money or child-rearing, he had gladly relinquished to someone else. At least Mrs. Beautemps had been more scrupulous when overseeing Isabella than her father’s accountant had been when overseeing his finances. Or at least most people would think so.
Since the divorce, there had been no love lost between Isabella and her ex-mother-in-law.
“I’m sorry. You must have been very young then. That must have been difficult.” Dr. Wong touched her arm, a natural gesture he probably didn’t even realize he made but one that felt very compassionate to her.
It should have been the worst year of her life. But the year Cole had left still ranked as number one in that respect.
“I hadn’t realized it had been that long. How is your father doing?” Dr. Lockhart looked concerned—or maybe it was guilty—for letting her father drop off his radar. But Isabella understood. How long could a person be angst-ridden over a lost relationship?
“About the same. Thank you for asking.” Isabella thought of the despondent look in her father’s eyes last Thursday night when she and Adrian had made their routine twice-a-week visit.
She shook off the sadness, as she always did. No sense in worrying about what couldn’t be changed. Neither would gloom and doom raise money for the special games.