Prescription: Love

by Pamela Toth

  “Hello, Renee,” he replied, glancing at Zoe. “You must know Dr. Hart.”

  “Of course,” Renee murmured, barely glancing at Zoe before turning the full wattage of her green eyes back on Dr. Taylor.

  “You should call me,” she said, flexing her fingers as though she was testing his muscles before she released her grip on his shoulder. Another woman was waiting for her by the register up front.

  “You have a great day,” he replied. “Enjoy the sunshine.”

  When Renee left, Juliet set their plates in front of them, saving Zoe from having to comment. “Can I bring you anything else?” the waitress asked. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes, as though she wasn’t getting enough sleep, and her delicate face looked too thin despite her body’s bulk.

  There were worse things than being stuck in Montana for a few months, Zoe thought, as both she and Dr. Taylor shook their heads. She dribbled dressing on her spinach salad while Dr. Taylor dug into his meal.

  “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” He picked up half of his oversize burger, dripping juice on his plate. “I don’t want to gross you out or anything.”

  Purposefully she speared a piece of the bacon from her salad with her fork and held it up. “Not everyone from California is a vegetarian, but thanks for asking.”

  The muscles of his jaw flexed as he chewed. “Thanks for sharing your table,” he said when he’d swallowed.

  “No problem, Dr. Taylor.” Compared to Renee’s seductive purr, her own voice sounded prissy and uptight. She had been around more intimidating and successful men than this one without losing her poise, so what was her problem now?

  “Why don’t you call me Chris when we aren’t at work.” He flashed a lethal smile that she felt right down to her toes. “Then I could call you Zoe.”

  She nodded as she jammed a forkful of salad into her mouth. The sooner she finished, the quicker she could get out of here, away from the jumpy way she felt whenever she was around him.

  Between bites, he plied her with questions that she managed to answer without revealing too much.

  “This place must have a story to tell.” She wanted to switch his attention away from her, so she studied their surroundings as he ate a French fry. “Was it always a bar and grill?”

  As he blotted his mouth with a napkin, his expression suggested that he knew very well what she was attempting to do. “It started out as a saloon, one of several in this part of town,” he said. “The bar’s original and so is that painting. It’s hard to miss, isn’t it?”

  Zoe turned to study the figure of the well-endowed blonde. “Is that the woman sitting by the front door?”

  His loud bark of laughter caused several people to look their way. “Martha Tasker?” he exclaimed, then immediately lowered his voice as he leaned across the table. “I don’t think our Martha is quite old enough, despite her perky gray bun. There’s a rumor that the original owner posed for the portrait, but I don’t know if it was ever confirmed. The locals call her ‘the shady lady.’”

  “I’ll bet this town rocked on Saturday nights back in the day, during the original gold rush,” Zoe mused.

  “If you’re interested in local history, you should look at the old photos hanging all over the walls here.” He bit into another fry. “Have you been to the museum yet? It’s housed in the original schoolhouse.”

  She shook her head. “Today’s the first chance I’ve had to come downtown. Until now, I’ve only gone to the strip mall at the other end of town.” She wanted to keep him talking so she could sit and watch him. What made one person ordinary and another so attractive? “When was gold discovered the first time?” she asked, taking a sip of her iced tea.

  “The boom lasted for three decades back in the late eighteen hundreds. I imagine it was just like in the movies, full of saloons, brothels, prospectors and hookers. Then the gold ran out and a lot of people moved on, looking for the next big strike, I suppose. Luckily many of the buildings down here have been preserved or restored.”

  “And now there’s another strike and the town is full of modern-day prospectors,” she said. “What do they hope to gain? Isn’t the mine on private property?”

  “That doesn’t stop them,” he replied. “They probably tell themselves that there’s got to be more gold than just what’s down in the Queen of Hearts.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Zoe remarked, interested despite herself. “I forgot about mines having names, just like ships. Is the family that owns it descended from the original prospector to find gold there?”

  “It’s funny that you should ask,” he said expansively, “because I just happen to know that Amos Douglas won the mine in a card game and then he passed it down.” He lowered his voice and glanced around. “Between you and me, they’d better be able to prove their claim because you can bet that someone will check it out now that gold has been found again.”

  “They must have a deed to the land,” Zoe said.

  He shrugged. “I’m sure they do. Caleb Douglas is no dummy when it comes to business. He’s right in the middle of developing his big fancy ski resort, so I’ll bet he could use a little extra gold to help finance it.”

  “You say that with a sneer in your tone, as though you aren’t a skier,” Zoe remarked. He certainly appeared to have an athletic build, so he was no couch potato.

  He shrugged. “I’ve done some cross-country, but going down hills so you can take a lift back up seems kind of pointless to me. How about you?”

  “I took all kinds of lessons when I was a kid,” she admitted. “But I didn’t start skiing until college.”

  He arched a brow. “Ski team?”

  She almost giggled, which shocked her. “Ski trip,” she corrected. “Winter break and a boyfriend I wanted to impress.”

  His smile seemed to flicker. “Serious?”

  She hadn’t given Howie a thought for years. “I thought it was until I sprained my ankle and he deserted me for the slopes and a bunny named April.”

  Amusement danced in his eyes. “Playboy?” he asked.

  This chuckle she didn’t bother to suppress. “Snow bunny.”

  “Can I get you anything else?” asked Juliet, stopping at their table.

  Zoe blinked, distracted. She had forgotten all about getting away from here ASAP. “No, thanks,” she told the waitress. “I have to go.”

  “Would you like this on one check?” Juliet asked.

  “Yes, thanks,” Chris said.

  “No, that’s not necessary!” Zoe protested. She always paid her own way.

  Juliet glanced back and forth, obviously confused.

  Chris’s smile widened, etching grooves into his lean cheeks. “It’s only lunch,” he told Zoe. “Let me treat you.”

  She could feel her face go hot. Before she could answer, Juliet laid down two tickets. “When you sort it out, you can pay up front. Thanks for coming in.”

  Chris figured that he knew when to advance, as he had when he’d first seen Zoe sitting alone, and when to retreat, as he did now when she shook her head.

  “I can’t let you do that,” she said.

  He looked forward to the opportunity to push her buttons, but not today. Rather than argue, he slid the tab for the salad and iced tea across the table with his finger.

  “Something tells me that offering to arm wrestle you for this wouldn’t be a good idea,” he teased, watching her reaction.

  What was it about the particular arrangement of her features, each beautiful in itself, that combined to form a face that stole his breath each time he saw her? More than what he could see, it was what he sensed that she kept hidden that intrigued him the most.

  Zoe picked up the slip of paper and pushed back her chair. “You’re a smart man for a cowboy,” she said as she stood up.

  The full wattage of her smile, aimed straight at Chris, nearly stopped him like a deer caught in the high beams. He stumbled to his feet, as flustered as a kid still in middle school.

  By the
time he recovered, she was halfway across the room. Rather than attempting to close the gap, he stood back and enjoyed the view of her retreating figure in her snug tan jeans. Only when he caught Juliet staring at him with a puzzled expression did he pull out his wallet and amble toward the door.

  It wasn’t until the next day when he saw Willie in the hospital corridor that Chris began to wonder if he’d been maneuvered like a steer in a rodeo ring.

  “Hey, Doc,” the maintenance worker called out, wiping his hands on a rag he then stuffed into his back pocket. “Did you go to The Hitching Post for lunch yesterday like I suggested?”

  Chris studied him through narrowed eyes, suspicions gathering like thunderheads forming above the mountains. Willie had made a big point of recommending the bar and grill when they’d run into each other down on Main Street. Chris remembered asking him whether Martha was paying Willie to send her customers.

  “Since when do you care where I ate?” Chris demanded when Willie caught up with him.

  The bunch of keys that Willie always wore made a jingling sound when he walked. The grin creasing his weathered face seemed to falter and his gaze slid away. “I don’t give a rat’s arse where you eat,” he blustered defensively.

  Chris slowed him down with a hand on his wiry shoulder, which tensed beneath Chris’s grip. “Anything I should know?” Chris asked.

  Willie stood his ground, his expression defiant. “Like what? Can’t a guy recommend a restaurant without getting the third degree?”

  The idea that Willie might have done something to orchestrate Chris’s meeting with Zoe was beyond ridiculous. He realized that there was no way to pursue the subject without looking like an idiot.

  With a rueful grin, he patted the older man’s back before letting him go.

  “Forget it, okay?” Chris jammed his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. “I’ve got to go.”

  Was it Chris’s imagination or did Willie look relieved? “Yeah,” he said. “No big deal.” With a nod, Willie hurried away, keys jingling.

  Chris shrugged off his suspicions, preferring to recall the unexpected pleasure of the impromptu lunch. If he saw Zoe, maybe he would ask if she’d enjoyed it, too. Meanwhile, he had just enough time before his meeting to drop in on Olivia Chester up in Labor and Delivery, just to say hello.

  “Any problems with your patients?” Dr. Chester asked Zoe, who was seated at a desk in L&D, adding chart notes on the women she’d seen so far today.

  Zoe returned the director’s smile. Dr. Chester was in her fifties, but she was one of those women whose appearance grew more striking with age. Her streaked gray hair was cut short and straight above brown eyes brimming with intelligence. Her olive skin emphasized her lovely cheekbones and the graceful line of her jaw. She was reed thin and always wore khaki slacks with her lab coat. Her only ornamentation, a possible concession to her Navajo heritage, was a pair of small silver earrings set with turquoise stones. On her hand was a matching ring.

  “The results of the pelvic ultrasound came back on Candace Burns,” Zoe reported. “It confirms an ectopic pregnancy.”

  “Your suspicion was right.” Dr. Chester folded her arms across her chest. “How far along is she?”

  “Fifteen weeks,” Zoe replied after she’d glanced at the chart. “Her symptoms are too severe for expectant management.”

  “Is she bleeding?”

  Zoe nodded. “And she’s experiencing some cramping.”

  “What options are you considering?” the director asked.

  “I want to put her on medication first in order to avoid surgery and the possible risk of damage to her fallopian tubes,” Zoe replied, relieved when Dr. Chester nodded in assent.

  “You’ll have to watch the hormone levels closely,” she cautioned.

  Zoe nodded. “If they don’t drop or if her bleeding doesn’t stop, surgery will be her only option.”

  Dr. Chester’s expression softened. “Have you told her?”

  “Not yet. I had two deliveries this morning.” Zoe glanced over at the dark-haired nurse seated nearby, who had assisted her both times. As usual, Beth Ann wore a smock with a teddy-bear print.

  “Make sure your patient understands that this doesn’t rule out her chance of having normal pregnancies in the future,” the director reminded Zoe before walking away. “Talk to her soon,” she said over her shoulder.

  Zoe pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “Right away, Doctor.”

  After the director left, Beth Ann glanced at Zoe. “You’ll do fine,” the nurse said with an encouraging smile.

  Dr. Taylor came up to the counter. Immediately Zoe wondered what the head of the E.R. would be doing in the maternity wing. “Is your boss around?” he asked.

  “She was here a minute ago,” Beth Ann replied before Zoe could open her mouth. “I’ll go see where she went.”

  He turned his smile on Zoe. “Nice to see you again. You look very…” He hesitated for a moment as his gaze swept over her. “Very professional,” he concluded.

  She really had to get used to running into him without overreacting, she thought as she resisted patting her hair clip to make sure it was still in place. He was probably too used to having women fall at his feet.

  “Nice to see you, too,” she managed to say without stammering. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a patient.”

  “Is she in labor?” he asked.

  “No.” Briefly Zoe described the situation with the ectopic pregnancy. “Her test results just came back, so I need to go over them with her.”

  “That’s rough,” he replied with a shake of his head.

  “But it could certainly be worse,” Zoe pointed out. At least they had caught the condition early enough to avoid serious complications. “Her tube could have ruptured, making future pregnancies less likely.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “I hope that’s not quite how you’re going to describe the situation when you see her.”

  Zoe swallowed her annoyance. “Of course not, but that’s where she should focus.”

  “And she will do that in good time, Doctor.” He spoke slowly, deliberately, as his gaze held hers. “But first keep in mind that she will need to mourn this baby, this precious little life she’s never going to know. Especially if it’s her first.”

  Zoe hadn’t thought of the situation in quite that way. “You’re right,” she conceded after a moment. “Thank you for the reminder, Dr. Taylor.”

  “You’re welcome. And I enjoyed our lunch,” he said, his smile returning.

  “Me, too,” she admitted.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Dr. Chester asked from the end of the counter. Her expression was inscrutable.

  Zoe’s face flamed. “No, Doctor. I’m just on my way to deal with the ectopic pregnancy,” she said without thinking.

  “The patient has a name, Dr. Hart.” The director’s voice was edged with quiet rebuke.

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” Furious with herself, Zoe bit back further excuses before they could spill out and make her look defensive as well as incompetent. Her slip of the tongue would only confirm Chris’s—Dr. Taylor’s—previous impression that she had no heart.

  Head held high despite her embarrassment, she went to tell Candace Burns the bad news.

  “Something I can do for you?” Dr. Chester asked Chris, arms folded across her chest. The amusement dancing in her dark eyes told him that she had heard his comment to Zoe about lunch and that she knew exactly why he was really here on the second floor, despite whatever he said.

  “It was my fault that Dr. Hart misspoke,” he explained. “She was just telling me about it, so the term was probably right on the tip of her tongue.”

  “No need to defend her,” Olivia replied, reaching across the desk for a folder. “Dr. Hart is a talented physician.” She flipped it open and scanned its contents. “And a pretty woman,” she added drily.

  Chris glanced around to make sure there was no one else within earshot. “I agree on both coun
ts. I haven’t observed Zoe getting rattled in the E.R., not even when they brought in that prospector with the metal spike through his forearm, about two centimeters from the radius. The poor man skewered himself when his rope broke.”

  “I heard about that,” she replied. “Wasn’t your sister with the rescue team that saved him?”

  Chris nodded. “Oh, yeah. Faith gets around.”

  “How is she doing?” Olivia asked, setting aside the folder and resting her hip against the edge of the desk. “I haven’t seen her for a while.”

  Chris knew that his sister had discussed her fertility concerns with Olivia, so he wasn’t breaking any confidences. “She’s engaged to Cam Stevenson, the guy whose son she pulled from the erosion hole. The nugget in his fist is what started this stampede,” he said with a grin. “Cam’s a teacher at the high school and he seems like a good guy.”

  After all the pain Faith had experienced when her ex walked out on her, Chris was pleased to see her find happiness again.

  “That’s wonderful news,” Dr. Chester agreed. “She’s a very brave woman in more ways than one.”

  “That’s true. Little Erik was damned lucky that she and Cam found him when they did.” Chris had to grit his teeth against the sudden rush of feelings every time he recalled the incident.

  After his sister had rescued the boy, the access hole had collapsed, nearly burying her alive. Somehow Cam, who had gone there with her, had managed to pull her out right before Chris arrived with the ambulance. He could still remember the fear that had ripped through him when he first saw her, badly scraped up and covered with dirt. God!

  Chris swallowed hard. “Erik is a terrific kid,” he told Olivia. “He and Faith have really bonded, even aside from her relationship with Cam.”

  Olivia’s expression softened, making him wonder if she had ever longed for a family of her own. “Your sister has a big heart as well as a brave spirit.”

  It was time for Chris to change the subject before they both got weepy. “As we were saying, I believe that Zoe will make an excellent doctor,” he concluded.