The Surgeon's One Night to Forever

by Ann Mcintosh

  She’d said the last part with a small chuckle, acknowledging the fact they both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  Neither telling himself he, in turn, didn’t need to make a good impression, nor reminding himself he’d faced far more dangerous missions, helped. Whatever the relationship really was between Liz and her family, the last thing Cort wanted was to do anything to make it worse. And he couldn’t see an upside to her fooling her parents about her relationship status. If it came out later, wouldn’t they be hurt by the subterfuge?

  However it all fell out, he’d decided to make the most of the time they had together, if Liz would let him. Sometime, in the not-too-distant future, it would all be over and he wanted as many memories of her as he could make.

  About a block and a half before they got to the church, they hit a traffic jam. Ahead Cort could see barricades across the road, and was about to ask the driver if there was a problem when she said, “It’ll take a little while to get to the church, sir, but we’re in good time. You won’t be late.”

  To his surprise, he realized not only was the road barricaded so the wedding guests could be dropped off at the entrance to the church but there were photographers and videographers outside.

  “The paparazzi are out in full force,” the driver remarked cheerfully while they waited their turn to get to the head of the line, as though that were the most normal thing in the world. “Everyone wants to see Giovanna Alberghetti’s wedding dress.”

  Cort hadn’t even known who Giovanna was until Liz had mentioned her brother was marrying the woman. He’d come into the situation already feeling completely out of his depth, and it wasn’t getting any better.

  Thankfully, none of the photographers were interested in him when he got out of car. It was a relief to walk up the steps of the cathedral without any of the excitement he’d witnessed after the car ahead had disgorged its passengers, who, according to his driver, were a couple of fashion models and their sports star husbands.

  In the narthex he joined the line of people snaking into the church, and when Cort gave his name to an usher at the door the young man smiled.

  “Oh, yes, Major Smith. This way, please.”

  They proceeded up the main aisle, Cort expecting to be slotted into one of the back pews, but once they passed the halfway mark and kept going, his stomach dropped down into his socks. Aware of people turning to look at him, no doubt wondering who this nobody was, he kept his eyes straight ahead and pretended to be on military parade.

  “Here we are, Major.”

  The usher stood back and gestured Cort into the second row on the right of the aisle.

  A pew even he knew was usually reserved for family.

  There were already a few elderly couples seated at the opposite end of the row, and one of the gentlemen gave Cort a very obvious once-over before nodding at him then turning to face forward again.

  Gathering himself, not wanting to make a scene, Cort said, “Thank you,” and stepped into the pew.

  He was quite sure there’d been a mistake, and dreaded the embarrassment of someone coming to move him farther back in the church. In the meantime, however, all he could do was pretend it was all fine.

  There wasn’t much space left in the pew, so he moved down as far as he could go without crowding the lady he was next to, and sat down, balancing his cover on his knees.

  It was tempting to simply stare straight ahead, but a glance to his right found the lady next to him smiling his way, so he returned the gesture. That was all she needed.

  Leaning toward him, she whispered, “Who are you, young man?”

  “Dr. Cort Smith, ma’am,” he replied just as softly.

  “I’m Melisande Prudhomme, the groom’s great-aunt. Are you Eliza’s young man? I heard she had someone accompanying her today, but wasn’t sure I believed it.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am accompanying Liz.”

  Her face brightened. “I’m so glad to see her with someone, and someone of substance too. Are you stationed nearby, or are you two having one of those long-distance relationships?” She waggled a finger at him. “Those hardly ever work, you know.”

  “I’m retired from the military, ma’am. Liz and I work together.”

  “Oh, that’s better, then. And you should call me Aunt Millie, like Eliza does.”

  The gentleman seated beside Melisande leaned forward and said, “Stop interrogating the major, Millie.” Then he stuck out his hand toward Cort. “Cecil Prudhomme. This busybody’s husband.”

  Cort suppressed a grin, as he shook the proffered hand. “Dr. Cort Smith. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “I’d introduce you to the rest of the folks in the pew, but it might cause a bit of a commotion. My sister, Bunny, is as deaf as a post and given to bellowing rather than speaking. Whispering is far beyond her capabilities at this point. You’ll meet them all at the reception.”

  “Bunny’s also a little gaga,” Aunt Millie whispered, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “If she asks you what you did in the war, just be warned she’ll be talking about World War Two.”

  “Millie. Behave,” Cecil Prudhomme said, but there was undeniable amusement in his voice.

  “Thank you for the head’s up, ma’am,” Cort replied, unable to suppress a little chuckle.

  The organ, which had been playing classical music quietly in the background, suddenly took on a more sonorous tone, and a ripple of excitement ran through the congregation.

  A door to the right of the altar opened and a man Cort recognized as Liz’s brother Robbie stepped through, followed closely by Liz.

  But this was a Liz Cort had never seen before.

  Sophisticated.

  Movie-star glamorous.

  Gloriously encased in a dress that, although it mimicked her brother’s suit in coloring, showcased her beauty in such a way that Cort was left wondering who would bother to look at the bride.

  Creamy shoulders rose from a low-cut neckline, framed by a wide, dark gray collar. The buff-colored bodice somehow wrapped and emphasized Liz’s perfect, curvy body, while the same gray came around to cinch her waist and fall away almost like the tails of the men’s morning suits. Beneath was revealed a straight skirt, seemingly of the same fabric as her brother’s trousers.

  She was so beautiful he couldn’t take his eyes off her and his heart skipped a beat as heat gathered at the base of his spine.

  Liz scanned the front rows, and her gaze settled on him. She didn’t smile, but the corners of her lips twitched and she sent him a little wink, before walking to her place at her brother’s side.

  “Oh, how lovely Eliza looks,” Aunt Millie sighed, while giving Cort a surprisingly hearty poke in the side. “If that dress doesn’t give you naughty ideas, young man, I’ll be sadly disappointed in you.”

  “Oh, it does, ma’am,” he whispered back.

  At the same time her husband said, “Millie!”

  * * *

  The wedding service went off without a hitch. Even Giovanna was on time, for what was probably the first time ever, Robbie whispered to Liz with a chuckle. Testament, Liz thought, to her now sister-in-law’s delight in marrying the man she’d so assiduously fended off for almost a year.

  Of course, after the ceremony the wedding party and immediate family had to have pictures taken, and by the time they got close to the end of the photo shoot Liz was impatient.

  She was worried about Cort. How he was managing by himself at the prereception gathering. Mind you, he’d been sitting next to her Aunt Millie in the church, and if there was anyone who’d be inclined to take him under their wing, it was her.

  She really shouldn’t have been concerned. As the wedding party made their entrance into the beautifully decorated ballroom where the wedding brunch was being held, she spotted Cort standing to one
side, sandwiched between Aunt Millie and Aunt Bunny.

  “Good grief,” she muttered, earning a laughing look from Robbie as he followed her gaze and saw the trio.

  “Your poor guy,” Robbie said.

  “He’s not—”

  “Your guy,” her brother finished for her. “So you’ve said ad nauseam.”

  Liz sent him a glower, which just made him laugh. It was a continuation of sorts of their conversation in the church.

  “That guy of yours looks like he’s contemplating how to get that dress off you.” Robbie smirked, apparently unbearably pleased with himself and wanting to spread the love around. “And don’t bother to tell me you’re just friends. I know you too well, you know.”

  She hadn’t even realized she’d gone back to staring at Cort, so handsome in his dress blues, until her brother’s comment hit home.

  “Buzz off,” she’d replied out of the corner of her mouth, as their mother appeared at the end of the aisle on the arm of an usher, their father walking behind them.

  Watching her parents coming toward them, beaming with pride, caused a flood of emotion so intense it was as though a hand closed around her heart. Instinctively she looked again at Cort, seeking reassurance, and when he smiled at her she was suddenly able to breathe again.

  “Will you at least talk to Dad today?” Robbie had asked. “Rather than pretend to?”

  That question still echoed in her head hours later, and she still hadn’t formulated an answer. Her father and her had drifted around each other like planets whose orbits never really crossed, although Liz thought she’d seen a hint of melancholy in Brant’s gaze when she’d caught him looking at her.

  What she needed to say to her father, to ask him, wasn’t an appropriate subject for such a happy day, was it? Even as she justified her continued silence, she knew herself to be a coward.

  It was really her mother she needed to break the silence. To, in a strange way, give Liz permission to forgive her father. In her heart, Liz already knew how sorry Brant was, but the anger she felt on her mother’s behalf kept her holding him at arm’s length.

  Giovanna had planned a simple yet elegant brunch for after the ceremony, but the real party wasn’t until the evening. In between she and Robbie would have some more pictures taken and then supposedly rest up for the festivities to come. The ravenous way her brother looked at his gorgeous bride made Liz think he had something other than resting on his mind for those hours in between.

  “You look amazing,” Cort said softly, for her ears only, as he held out her chair for her. Thankfully Giovanna had dispensed with a more formal seating plan and they were sitting together. “That dress wraps you up like the perfect present.”

  She gave him a bland look as he waited for the other ladies to be seated, standing beside her with his hand on the back of her chair, his fingers just brushing the exposed skin of her shoulder.

  “You like gifts, don’t you?” she asked, earning herself a heavy-lidded look that turned her insides liquid with desire.

  “So, who are you?” Moira asked, giving Cort a flirtatious look as she slid into her chair, despite her husband being right there.

  Straight-faced, Liz answered. “Oh, this is Saint Cort Smith. Cort, my cousin Moira.”

  Moira turned pink and, after a hasty greeting, quickly turned to speak to Giovanna’s cousin, who was seated next to her. The men had taken their seats, and Cort leaned over to ask, “When was I elevated to sainthood, and by whom?”

  Liz shrugged, smoothing the napkin on her lap, regretting the impulse that had caused her to say what she had. But honesty won out, as it always did with her.

  “Moira said the only men who would be able to put up with me were either saints or doormats. You’re definitely not a doormat, so...”

  Cort laughed softly. “Your cousin doesn’t really know you that well, does she? If she saw how all the men in the hospital follow you longingly with their eyes wherever you go, she’d realize how silly she sounds.”

  Then he leaned in even closer so he was speaking right into her ear. “And my thoughts toward you right now aren’t very saintly at all.”

  It made gooseflesh break out all up and down her arms.

  And she knew Robbie wasn’t the only Prudhomme who was going to be naughty between brunch and dinner.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  IF THE BRUNCH was the epitome of elegance and refinement, the party that evening would best be compared to a rave. Giovanna had rented one of the hottest night clubs in Manhattan, complete with DJ, and invited a crowd of people who hadn’t been at the actual wedding ceremony. Some of the older members of family and elderly friends forwent the evening festivities, but for those who attended there was a private upstairs lounge with a bar and comfortable chairs. There they could look down on the dance floor through the large windows or step out onto the balcony, which had a nice view of Central Park.

  That was where Cort and Liz ended up, since neither of them were inclined to join the gyrating mass of bodies on the dance floor or have to scream to hear each other speak.

  “Are you having a good time?” Liz asked Cort, as they stood on the balcony, sharing a drink and getting a breath of warm night air.

  He smiled in response, casually looping his arm over her shoulder.

  “You’ve asked me that at least a hundred times today. Yes, I’ve had a good time.”

  She couldn’t help worrying. Her family could be heavy weather to those not used to them, her father’s side filled with eccentrics sprinkled with snobs, her mother’s with snobs sprinkled with eccentrics. And everyone knew the only difference between eccentricity and insanity was how much money the person had. No doubt Cort had been exposed to a lot more than just what she’d witnessed herself, since she’d been busy with wedding duties.

  “Even with Aunt Bunny asking you if you were at the Battle of the Bulge? Or Francesca acting as though being a surgeon in a hospital, rather than in private practice, was akin to working as a pool boy?”

  He laughed then, his arm tightening around her in a comforting hug.

  “Your aunts were a delight, and it’s not the first time my career path has been questioned, believe me.”

  Curious, she twisted slightly to look at him. “Really? How so?”

  “Oh, my ex, the one who dumped me right before our wedding, seemed to think it would be more appropriate for me to be a plastic surgeon. I think she was hoping for free cosmetic work down the line.”

  Horrified, she actually gasped. “What? Did she understand the training you went through to be a trauma surgeon? The dedication it took to get to where you are, and how good you are at your job?” She huffed, disgusted. “How silly can people be?”

  “I don’t let it bother me. I’ve come a long way, and although I sometimes have to remind myself of that, the bottom line is life is good.”

  The door behind them opened and Robbie said, “There you are.”

  It was only when she turned, a smile already in place, that she realized her brother wasn’t alone. Their parents stepped onto the balcony behind him and, on seeing Liz and Cort, seemed to hesitate for an instant.

  Robbie grinned, one of his cheeky, inviting grins, and said, “I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you one on one, Dr. Smith. My father isn’t the kind to ask what your intentions are toward Liz, but I don’t have the same scruples.”

  “Robbie!”

  Both Liz and her father said it at the same time, in the same warning tone, the similarity so marked they all just stood there for a beat.

  And then Robbie said quietly, “Ah, nature wins out every time, doesn’t it? You two are so alike, sometimes it’s frightening.”

  Cort’s arm had dropped away from her shoulders when they’d turned to greet the others, and Liz shivered, missing the comforting warmth. As though sensing her need for reassurance, Cort reached out and
touched her wrist, his fingers rubbing back and forth a couple of times.

  “I came prepared for an interrogation,” Cort said, smiling. “And after spending time with your Aunt Millie, I’m confident I can stand up to anything.”

  “Ah, sir, I think you’ll find she merely softened you up for me,” Robbie replied with another grin and a sweep of his arm toward an unoccupied group of chairs at the end of the balcony. “After you.”

  With another light touch to Liz’s wrist Cort strode off with Robbie, and she watched them go, trepidation keeping her gaze fixed on their retreating backs so she didn’t have to look at her parents.

  “Go with them, Brant,” Lorelei said to her husband. “Make sure Robbie doesn’t do anything to make Dr. Smith uncomfortable.”

  “Yes, darling,” Brant replied, before bending to kiss her cheek.

  Then he strode off, leaving Liz alone with her mother.

  Lorelei smiled at Liz. “It all went well, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Mom. It did.”

  Just moments before she’d thought this the perfect time to ask her mother about the past. Now she was kicking herself for her cowardice. Her mother’s contented smile was well earned, and Liz was loath to see it disappear.

  Then her mother said, “This is the first opportunity I’ve had to tell you how proud I was of you today.”

  Liz dredged up a little smile of her own. “It’s amazing what a designer dress can do.”

  Lorelei’s perfectly shaped brows rose. “Eliza, the woman makes the dress outstanding, not the other way around. I know I’ve told you that before.”

  “Yes, Mother,” she said dutifully, having indeed heard it many times over the years.

  Her mother huffed. “You’re beautiful, Eliza. I think you’re old enough now to know it for yourself and not dismiss me when I say it, the way you used to when you were a child.”