Return of the Rebel Surgeon

by Connie Cox

  He watched the shadows flicker across the ceiling. “Yes, it did, but not like you think. You were my anchor, the one person who grounded me and kept me sane. You were my reason to be steady and stay the course toward my goal. Without you, I was adrift, just like I was after my parents drowned.”

  When he found himself rubbing at his hand, he reached for Bella’s instead. “When I left you behind to go to New York, I have never felt so alone, not even after the funerals.”

  “Even if you had stayed, it might not have worked. Maybe deep down I knew that. Maybe that’s why I didn’t go after you. Who knows?” Bella reached with her free hand and guided his face to look into hers. “Recriminations do neither of us any good. We were young and foolish and impetuous. We can’t go back in time. What’s done is done.”

  “I was impetuous. You were cautious. I led where you weren’t ready to go.”

  “You led me into the vast brightness of the world when I would have stayed safely hidden in the gray shadows of my father’s house. You showed me a depth of passion and excitement and joy I would have never discovered without you.”

  “I hurt you, too.”

  “As I hurt you.” She rubbed her finger along his eyebrow, smoothing out the tension. “I’ve already begun to heal.”

  “I’m glad.” If only he hadn’t been the one to inflict that pain, so much would be different between them right now. He was grateful Bella had offered him absolution but it didn’t change anything. Some men weren’t made to have a family and he had proof, twice over, that he was one of those men. He’d made peace with that a long time ago and was content with his solitary state.

  He would steal a few more days from his work and make arrangements so that Bella and Adrian would never want for anything again. Then he would go back to his practice, the one thing in life he had to offer the world, with the small comfort that he had done what he could to correct his past. It was for the best for everyone.

  Isabella tugged at the blanket pinned beneath him. “Is it getting chilly in here?”

  He thought about promising to keep her warm, but he’d already promised to let her sleep—and his thoughts on body heat had nothing to do with rest.

  He rose up and covered her silky shoulder with the blanket, giving in to temptation and gliding his hand along that graceful curve.

  “Good night,” she said, before turning onto her side with her back to him.

  “Good night, Bella,” he whispered in her ear.

  A sweet lassitude settled in his soul as she settled into her pillow, curving her body into a C, her bare derrière brushing his naked stomach. He wrapped himself around her, wanting her yet knowing next time he could go slowly and savor his time with her.

  As he drifted to sleep, he realized that was exactly what he had thought the last time they’d lain together.

  * * *

  Bella had thought she would have a hard time falling to sleep. She had expected to be keyed up and nervous, in bed with a man. The last time she’d shared a bed had been with this very same man—so different yet so much the same.

  But Cole’s arm around her, his body cradling hers, gave her a warmth and security to drift off into. Without a worry on her mind she fell into the most restful sleep she’d had in years.

  As the bright sun pierced the gap between the curtains, Bella awoke alone.

  Cole’s pillow still held his impression. The sheets still held his scent. But the chill on her skin was no longer warmed from his heat.

  She ran her tongue across her fuzzy teeth and decided to make the best of it. Was there any other option?

  Yes, there was. Once she would have bolted in panic. But she was no longer that young, scared girl left in a lurch.

  While she could sneak out, hoping she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew, her running and sneaking days were long past, along with her unconfident youth.

  She was a woman grown now and she would never again let unanswered questions lie between them. She would practice patience, withhold judgment and wait for Cole to return, though the discipline of waiting patiently certainly tested her maturity.

  With David taking Adrian to the jazz and blues festival, Isabella had a rare morning to herself and she intended to enjoy every minute of it.

  Using Cole’s toothpaste and her finger, she did the best she could, but the taste and feel of his mouth lingered in her memory. So did the memory of his hands, his strength and warmth, his on-the-edge restraint and her lack of the same.

  In another time and place she would have been embarrassed about her unbridled passion. Right now, she was rather proud of herself.

  Deliberately, she chose to enjoy a long, hot shower to soak out the soreness of unused muscles. After she’d soaped and rinsed every inch of skin, rubbing in Cole’s touch rather than rubbing it off, she used his brush to untangle her hair.

  No cosmetics. Despite the dark shadows under her eyes and a few squint lines at the corners, she had held up fairly well to single motherhood of a special-needs child.

  What would her life be like now if she had gotten notice to Cole about the pregnancy, and he had married her out of duty?

  The mirror fogged, revealing a finger-drawn message, a big heart with “I Love You” written across it for an earlier recipient. How many lovers had this room hosted?

  Isabella smiled at the revealed artwork, but it was a sad, nostalgic smile. Once, maybe, she could have been that steamy graffiti artist. But now, even if she wanted to love that way, she’d learned too much caution to let it happen. And she didn’t have the time or the energy to convince herself otherwise.

  Wrapping a large towel around her body, she opened the bathroom door. As the bathroom fog dissipated, so did the message in the mirror.

  Cole, in running shorts and T-shirt, sat in a chair, scrolling through his phone messages. Sacks and two cups from one of the downstairs bakeries sat on the table next to him.

  “I thought you might like—” He looked up and saw her standing there. Visibly, he swallowed, obviously at a loss for words.

  His reaction inspired a boldness she hadn’t even known she had.

  Should she? It would be so unlike her.

  Wasn’t that what she needed? To break from her normal routine of mother and health-care professional? To be herself—the self she never let herself be? To live a little?

  Need. That was the key emotion right now.

  She unwrapped the towel. “I thought you might like...”

  He dropped his cellphone and didn’t bother to pick it up.

  “Yes.” He swallowed as he stood. “I like. Very much.”

  She studied him, head to toe. “You’re overdressed.”

  In the next instant he wasn’t.

  This time Isabella enjoyed Cole’s leisurely exploration as he touched her gently, reverently.

  In the full light of day, standing toe to toe, he explored her body, caressing every inch. If she had any worries about flaws like her C-section scar, he kissed them away before they could make her feel uneasy.

  She traced the whirl of hair across his chest, down to the flatness of his stomach. He followed the same route on her, his fingers splayed as his large palm covered her belly. Then he slid his hand lower. One flick of his finger and her knees refused to hold her any longer.

  In total sync to her reaction, he caught her and carried her to the bed. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him down to cover her.

  He broke contact only long enough to dash into the bathroom for a packet so he could protect her.

  For an insane instant Bella wished it could be otherwise, wished she could have more of Cole’s babies, wished they could be a family.

  Then his mouth came down on hers and all she could think was how she wanted to give back, thrust for thrust.

  This time they took their time, letting the urgency build as they both breathed in unison, faster and faster.

  With a cry Bella let her emotions overcome her. Pleasure flooded through her as Cole pulsed wit
hin her.

  Together.

  It felt so right.

  Instead of sweet lethargy, Bella felt a surge of refreshing vitality. Look out world, here comes Bella!

  As her fingers traced patterns in the sweat on Cole’s stomach, he said, “I’ve got today free. Want to play tourist with me?”

  With Cole’s invitation, the outside world intruded.

  What had she done?

  A panicked, suffocating, frantic reaction started in her stomach, growing and growing until it reached her brain.

  “No,” she forced out, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

  She rolled out of bed, scooped up her cold, damp towel and wrapped it around her.

  Awkward didn’t begin to describe how she felt holding up her towel while bending down to grab yesterday’s skirt and jacket, camisole and bra from across a hotel suite that suddenly seemed as vast and as open as the Ponchartrain.

  Catching a glimpse of Cole’s bewildered face as she rushed past him for the safety of the bathroom only increased her manic mood.

  “Bella?” Cole knocked on the door. “Are you okay in there?”

  “Fine. Just fine.” She was fully aware that her shrill, hysteria-tinged voice sounded anything but fine as she realized she hadn’t gathered up her panties in her mad dash.

  “Do you need these?”

  Isabella stood behind the door, opened it just enough to hold out her hand, and felt the hard edges of her shoe heels carefully balanced across her open palm.

  Not what she was expecting, but strangely comforting to think that Cole must understand her need to flee. Either that, or he wanted the emotional one-night stand out of his room as much as she wanted to go.

  As her initial burst of panicked adrenaline leveled off, embarrassment took its place. She had never been a drama queen before. But she’d never been wanton and wild before either. Cole brought out an unrestrained side of her that made her feel free to follow her impulses. Which couldn’t be a good thing when she had so much responsibility to juggle, could it?

  Once dressed, she took hold of herself. Avoiding the mirror to avoid the wild-eyed, crazy woman she knew she would see there, she straightened her spine.

  She would exit with dignity if it was the last thing she ever did, even if she could feel the breeze all too well on her bare bottom.

  Isabella took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Cole sat in the same chair as he had earlier, wearing the same shorts he had worn. He looked up with the same questioning gaze.

  If only she could go back in time.

  No—that was not what she wanted. Her time with Cole was a gift she would not regret. But she needed to get control of herself and move on.

  She looked past him toward the door. “My purse. I can’t remember where I put it.”

  He pointed to the coffee table behind him where her purse lay on its side with the contents spilled across the table. He had laid her panties between her cellphone and her keys.

  Knowing that he knew she was bare-bottomed made her twitch despite her resolve.

  “This is not how we end this, Bella.” He stood. Anger sparked in his eyes. So he hadn’t forgiven her yet. Even more reason for putting space between them.

  “Far from it. This is only the beginning.”

  Bella’s face was a mask, calm, polite—cold. If he hadn’t been watching so intently, he wouldn’t have seen the quaver at the corner of her mouth or the worry in her crystal eyes.

  “Cole—”

  He held up his hand, stopping her. “I intend to take care of my son, make financial arrangements for him and for you.”

  The intention to take care of Bella made Cole feel as if the pieces of his world, shattered all those years ago, were finally falling into place.

  Her nod was brisk, a sharp movement of acknowledgment just shy of acceptance. “I’ll call you. Right now I need some breathing room.”

  From an intellectual perspective, he understood—but he was a man of action. Sitting around waiting for Bella to think through her emotions would be a lesson in patience he would rather do without.

  “Soon, Bella. Make it soon.”

  “It’s been fifteen years. A few more—”

  “Hours? Days? Years? I’ve missed so much already.” He stopped himself. How much involvement did he want, other than having his accountant make deposits each month?

  He had a son, a part of himself. Then there was Isabella. Could he cut her out of his life now that he had found her once again?

  “Soon.” She walked around him, shoveled her things into her purse, tucking her panties down deep, and walked toward the door.

  He shook his head to clear it. His profession was all he needed. And neither Bella nor Adrian needed him beyond financial help. She had become too strong of a woman to be dependent on any man. The sooner he left New Orleans the sooner he could leave behind the edginess that clouded his thinking.

  Just when he thought she would leave him without another word, she turned to face him. “Welcome home, Cole.”

  Home. The hotel room mocked the sentiment behind the word.

  Home to him meant family and he hadn’t had a family since his teens.

  But now he did. He had a son.

  For the first time in a very long time uncertainty took away all his answers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHEN David had brought Adrian home from the jazz festival, she had been barely coherent when she’d said she didn’t want to talk about it. She owed him a big thank-you, as well as an apology for being so abrupt.

  Putting a few hours between her and Cole had been of no help as Isabella tried to figure out what last night—and this morning—meant to her. She hadn’t even gotten to the repercussion part of her actions. And then there was the mind shift that Cole hadn’t known about Adrian all these years.

  Still in a daze, she now went through the motions of dining with her father and her son. All three of them looked forward to the two nights a week when she and Adrian picked him up from the nursing home and took him for an outing.

  “You’re quiet tonight, daughter.” Her father struggled to string the words together despite the years of speech therapy that had followed his stroke. Some days were better than others.

  He sat in his chair with as much dignity as his shrunken body would allow him. He may have lost his health but he hadn’t lost his intelligence—although the world often treated him as if his mind was as feeble as his body. She was as guilty as the rest.

  Tonight she’d almost done the unthinkable and canceled their outing, but her father’s encroaching weakness, and the twinkle in his eyes whenever she and Adrian visited, made her treasure every moment spent with him. So she had dug down for her last half-gallon of strength, and here they sat.

  She looked at her dear papa, who had always done his best by her, even when he’d been totally bewildered about how to raise a daughter.

  “I’m just tired. I’ve been juggling a lot this week.” The dark circles under her eyes were visible proof that she needed a rest.

  Usually, she tried to carry a conversation, if for no other reason than to keep herself from having to eat in silence. His life in the nursing home tended to have as little excitement as hers. She would normally be regaling him with stories about the hospital, a life he missed desperately, but she was doing all she could to keep up the pretense of eating. She had nothing leftover within her to play the role of gracious hostess.

  As soon as the waiter cleared the table of dishes and set down the traditional two cups of coffee and cup of hot chocolate, Adrian pulled his doctor doll from his backpack.

  She continually wondered what went on in her son’s head but tonight she didn’t have to guess as Adrian held the doll in front of his grandfather’s face, trying his best to communicate that his own personal superhero was in town.

  “What’s this, Adrian?” her father directed the question to his grandson, but expected the answer from her.

  “It’s a lo
ng story.” Isabella hesitated about how much to tell him. “Sorry to be such bad company. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” By the time she got her head together she might owe everyone in New Orleans her sincerest apologies for her lapse in manners.

  “Can I help?” He lifted his hands and let them fall onto the armrests of his wheelchair. “I can’t do much, but I can listen.”

  “Thanks, Papa. Maybe later.” She wanted to shelter him from worry, but she did desperately needed someone to talk to. Not for the first time lately she vowed she would make time to develop girlfriend friendships—as soon as she figured out how to stretch a normal twenty-four-hour day.

  His concerned eyes glossed over with sadness. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Just as defeat started to color his eyes, she reached over and put her hand on his. “Cole Lassiter is back in town and I’m not sure what to do about it. I know we really never talked about it, you and I. But he never came back because he saw the engagement announcement and thought I’d made my choice over him.”

  Her father blinked, the cloudiness clearing from his eyes. “I always wondered. I should have asked.”

  She had to pick her words very carefully, with Adrian sitting there. As her son stared out the window, he could be taking in every word—or not comprehending any of it.

  But Isabella had never really affirmed to anyone other than David that Cole was Adrian’s father. Now she felt compelled to. Even though the truth had lain dormant all these years, it now felt like a lie of omission to let anyone think otherwise.

  For shining a light on her secret, she would hate Cole right now if she could figure out how. But hate was the one emotion she didn’t feel for Cole. She felt lust, security, lo— No, not that emotion. That was just leftover infatuation, even if it felt totally different.

  Under her hand, her father’s fingers twitched. She turned her attention back to her confession.

  “I sent letters and he says he tore them up before reading them and he didn’t know about...” She cast a sideways glance at Adrian. “And I believe him. At least my head does. My heart doesn’t know what to believe.”

  Her father’s eyes reflected alarm as well as concern.