She was putting him on notice, Terrance thought. Try as he might, he couldn’t blame her. He wished he could, but he couldn’t. But there was something else he could blame her for. “You didn’t tell me about your daughter, either.”
He had no right to her private life. Not anymore. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was told to show you the ropes at the hospital. I was not told to lay my life bare to you.”
For a second he lost his way. She always did have a knack of getting to him, even when he pretended that she didn’t. “We have a history.”
Oh, no, he wasn’t going to use that against her, to wield it to his advantage. That was emotional blackmail. Alix raised her chin defiantly.
“Right, and by definition history means something that happened in the past. We have a past, Terrance,” she agreed tersely. “Under no circumstances do we have a future, and as soon as Dr. Beauchamp allows you to fly solo, we won’t even have a present.”
She’d blocked off every path but one. He availed himself of it. “All right, I have some questions about the hospital.”
Alix bit back a groan and braced herself. “Go ahead.”
But Terrance shook his head. “I want to ask them over coffee.”
He didn’t have any questions, she thought, he was just trying to get her alone. “Why?”
Terrance shrugged innocently. “I think better with caffeine flowing through my veins.”
He hadn’t cared for coffee when she’d known him. Alix wondered what else there was about him that she didn’t know, then told herself that it didn’t matter. The man he was now didn’t matter. And the man she’d once loved was gone. He’d walked out on her.
She had to remember that.
Playing along, she said, “There’s a pot in the doctor’s lounge.”
She’d always been a good chess player, Terrance recalled. “I was thinking of the small outdoor café across the street.”
“I wasn’t.” She gave him her terms. “Doctors’ lounge or nothing.”
The look in her eyes told him she meant it. “Doctors’ lounge.”
“Sorry, Alix, some numbskull broke the coffeepot.” Dr. Holly Xavier held up the cracked pot to back up her statement uttered in disgust. “That new orderly, Sanchez, volunteered to go buy a new one on his break.”
Good old Riley, always making points, Terrance thought.
Alix sighed as she looked at the coffeepot.
“Outdoor café?” Terrance prodded.
She turned around to face him. “Hospital cafeteria,” she countered.
At least in the hospital cafeteria the cocooning din would keep her safe. She knew that if they went anywhere quieter, the sound of his voice was liable to rouse things within her, to unlock doors she’d closed and permanently boarded up.
There was a time when he could almost read her thoughts. He had a little insight into them now. Terrance looked at her pointedly. “Why are you afraid of being alone with me?”
Alix stiffened, her eyes took on fire. “I am not afraid.” She looked at her watch. They only had twenty minutes. “And the minutes of our break are slipping away.”
He knew when to give an inch in hopes of eventually gaining a mile. Terrance spread his hands magnanimously. “Cafeteria it is.”
Turning on her small, stacked heel, Alix headed toward the elevator. The car, when it arrived a minute later, was almost packed.
“We’ll wait for another car,” she said, when one of the women in the front began to step back.
Before she could retreat, Alix felt her elbow being cupped. Terrance was gently ushering her into the car.
“It’s too crowded,” she protested.
“We can manage.” He flashed a smile at Alix, then proceeded to make a space for the two of them. “Everyone hold your breath,” he instructed cheerfully.
She felt his body press against hers as the doors shut. She was acutely aware of every inch of him. Acutely aware that she was reacting to the feel of him despite all her best efforts not to.
What made it worse was she could feel his every breath as he drew it in and then exhaled. It created shock waves along her skin.
The short ride to the basement felt endless.
Damn him, she thought, frustrated. After all this time, he still had that effect on her of making her feel as if every part of her was coming unglued.
Why was he doing this to her? Why had he come back after all this time, popping up in her life as if he’d only been gone for a weekend instead of six years?
She felt him shift behind her. He’d done this on purpose, she thought. Why, she wasn’t sure—maybe to show her that he could still arouse her, that he could still make her want him. No amount of denying it on her part could negate it.
She was far from happy about this. And far from happy to discover that he could still make her feel weak in the knees just by his close proximity.
How the hell was she going to be able to maintain a barrier when he could so easily scramble her thoughts and her pulse?
The doors opened. Alix all but dashed out, taking in the air, recycled though it was, as if it were life affirming.
“Alix—” he began.
“Let’s keep this professional, shall we?” she said tersely.
“I’ve heard other doctors call you by your first name,” he told her.
She hurried around a group of three nurses who were moving too slowly. “Yes, but they’re my friends.”
“I was your friend once,” he reminded her.
“The key word here is once,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.” Picking up her pace, Alix strode through the corridor toward the cafeteria and its protective hum of noise.
Terrance made no effort to fall in place beside her. Instead he allowed her to get ahead of him, because it gave him a couple of moments to try to figure out what the hell he was going to ask her once they were seated.
Whatever it took just to be semialone with her.
Chapter 5
Because of the hour, the food service area of the cafeteria was fairly empty. Just beyond, in the dining area, only half the tables were occupied. It wasn’t nearly as full as she had hoped.
Still, Alix told herself, it was better than hurrying across the street to the outdoor café with Terrance and sitting at one of those tiny tables, so close that their knees touched and their breaths mingled.
It was bad enough being in the same room.
Terrance handed her a tray and then took one for himself, instinctively knowing that Alix would balk at the idea of their sharing one tray.
He’d gotten good at nuances, he thought. One of the by-products of his job. But then, there’d been a time when he’d known everything about her, every thought in her head before it was even completely formed.
He found himself missing that.
There was a small selection of desserts still left on the glass display shelves beside the coffee urn. Terrance nodded at them. “Want anything besides coffee?”
She watched black liquid pour into her cup as she held down the spigot. “To get back to the E.R.”
Terrance grinned, picking up a cup and filling it to the brim. “Dr. Beauchamp was right. You are a workaholic.”
She looked at him sharply. “You discussed me with Dr. Beauchamp?”
Her tone of voice warned him. “It was the other way around. There’s a difference,” he pointed out. “We sat here in the cafeteria earlier. He extolled your virtues to me.” He looked at her, remembering. “Not that he had to. It was rather like preaching to the choir.”
Alix said nothing as she placed her filled cup on her tray and turned around toward the cashier’s desk. There was nothing she could say. He was uttering empty words, words she would have cherished once had she not known what she did now. That his words meant nothing. And that she couldn’t allow herself to let hope cloud her vision.
Terrance was right behind her in line, his tray butted up against hers as they pushed both along the metal rungs to the cashi
er.
“Two,” he told the woman on the stool, indicating both trays.
Alix dug into the pockets of her lab coat, looking for money. “I’ll pay for my own, thank you.”
Terrance already had his wallet out. “A cup of coffee isn’t going to break me.” He knew what she was thinking. “And it’s hardly a bribe.” He handed the cashier a five then waved away the change. “When did you get this uptight?”
“The minute you walked up to the podium last week.” Not allowing him any time to respond, Alix picked up her tray and walked into the dining area.
He felt it prudent to let her scout out the table, allowing her to feel in control.
Rather than a booth, she chose a free-standing table located in the middle of the cafeteria. It was right in the way of foot traffic, both coming and going. There wasn’t a private thing about it.
She thought it was perfect.
Putting her tray on the table, Alix sat down. Then, like a soldier bracing herself for enemy fire, she squared her shoulders and looked at him.
“All right, so what are all these questions about the hospital you have to ask me?”
He’d gone undercover countless times, told lies with the ease of a silver-tongued con artist, sometimes with death only inches away. Why was he having trouble coming up with a simple question for her?
As he set down his tray, his mind was still scrambling for something plausible to ask her that wouldn’t cause Alix to get up and walk out. He picked his way through the words carefully, watching her face for warning signs.
“Actually, it’s more about the hospital and my career.”
She held the cup between both hands and looked down into it. The overhead light made the surface shimmer hypnotically—like the sound of his voice had once done to her. But no longer. “Ah yes, your career. How is your career?”
He smiled to himself, taking a sip of the dark brew. “You know, if you were any more sarcastic, I could probably see little applauding devils surrounding you.”
She glanced up at Terrance. “Now who’s being sarcastic?” And why, when he smiled like that, did her stomach still quiver a little? You’d think, once you had the disease and gotten over it, you’d be immune to catching it again.
“I prefer to call it observant.” He decided to follow a logical progression of events. If he were a newly transplanted doctor, he’d want to be on his own and the sooner the better. “I’m looking to set up a practice. Know anyone who would be interested in taking on a junior partner?”
He meant her, she realized. After all, they were both pediatricians. A wave of heat passed over her. Once, the thought that they both gravitated toward the same area of medicine had filled her with a feeling of contentment. Now there was only a sense of panic threatening to rise up.
Her grip tightened around her cup. “Not offhand.” Her tone was disinterested. “But I’ll ask around. Anything else?”
She looked ready to leave. He knew that he should let her. That his feelings for her had nothing to do with this investigation, would only get in the way of that investigation.
But for the moment there was nothing happening on that front, and although he’d seen William Harris at a distance—lecturing a nurse who hadn’t brought him a chart quickly enough—he hadn’t been able to get close to the man without appearing to force the matter. That kind of thing took a little time. So, just for the moment, he allowed himself to indulge this overwhelming need he was suddenly feeling, a need to attempt to mend at least part of the fences he’d knocked down when he’d left her so abruptly.
He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on hers. “Talk to me, Alix.”
Her lips thinned. “I was under the impression that’s what I was doing.”
She always could parry and thrust, he thought. “I mean talk to me, not at me.” He was losing her. And he didn’t want to. Not before he made amends. Terrance tried again. “Would it help to say I was sorry?”
This was getting them nowhere, she thought in exasperation. And she had patients to see. “Nothing you have to say would help,” she told him frankly. “Look, what was, was. Nothing can change that. We’re two entirely different people now.”
It was both the truth and a lie at the same time. Their paths had split and diverged six years ago, taking them to different places. She’d become a wife, a widow and a mother, all without Terrance. And yet, he’d never left the center of her heart, no matter how hard she tried to bury him.
She’d always felt guilty about that, guilty about not being able to render her whole heart to Jeff, who had deserved better. Her only saving grace was that Jeff knew nothing about the way she’d once felt about Terrance. She never mentioned him to Jeff. He’d died never knowing that her whole heart didn’t belong to him. But the sad fact of life was, though she tried very hard, after Terrance had left, she was incapable of surrendering herself completely.
She’d given Jeff as much of herself as she could. But not all.
Maybe she had the wrong idea, Terrance thought. He resisted the desire to take her hand, but it wasn’t easy. “I’m not here to pick up where I left off.”
“Good,” Alix cut in tersely, “because you can’t.”
“But I don’t want there to be this animosity between us.”
Alix could feel her jaw tightening. “There’s nothing between us. No emotion, nothing.” She was lying and he knew it, she thought. “All right,” she finally admitted, struggling to keep her voice down. “Maybe I am a little resentful. Damn it, you walked out on me. Walked out without so much as a word,” she accused, “not even goodbye.”
He wanted to touch her, to hold her. But he couldn’t, not here. Most likely not ever. “I couldn’t say goodbye.”
Words, they were just words. All after the fact. “But you could leave.”
Suddenly he wanted to make her understand, really understand. “I had to leave.”
“Why? Why did you have to leave?” It didn’t make sense then, it didn’t make any now.
He blew out a breath, surprised by all the pent-up emotion he felt within him. He’d thought everything had been tidily swept away. Maybe he didn’t know himself at all. “Because medicine didn’t make sense anymore. Nothing made sense anymore.”
She forgot promises she’d made to herself not to be drawn in. Words long held back stormed the gates. “Look, I know how much your father’s death affected you, but you could have come to talk to me.”
It hadn’t been that simple. He hadn’t wanted to bring her down as well. “I couldn’t talk to anyone.”
She felt as if he’d just slapped her. “I wasn’t just ‘anyone.’ I was the woman you’d promised to spend the rest of your life with.” She was fighting back tears, she realized, and prayed she could win the battle. “I was the woman who loved you more than anyone or anything else in this world.”
Compassion and shame filled him, obstructing everything else. He reached for her hand. “Alix—”
She jerked it back as if his fingers were hot branding irons. Damn it, she’d said too much. With a huge effort, she quickly backtracked, trying to restore the blurred line she’d drawn in the sand, the one he wasn’t supposed to cross over.
“Past tense, Doctor,” she said icily. “I’m using past tense.”
Suddenly there were questions, so many questions, and they all centered on her. “Tell me about past tense, Alix,” he coaxed. “What happened after I left?”
I went to pieces. When I couldn’t find you, I thought I’d literally go crazy. Or die. I did neither. I continued. In a world without you, I continued.
Taking a breath, she looked past his head and fixed her attention on a corner of a vending machine. It was easier to talk that way.
“I went on with my life. With the plans I made.” She’d caught herself in time not to say “the plans that we made.”
“My father was extremely helpful,” she continued. It was because of her father that she had gone into medicine in the first place. He was a family ph
ysician, beginning back in the days when they still referred to the position as being a general practitioner. He’d gotten her involved in medicine from a very early age. It was all she could remember ever wanting to be—besides Terrance’s wife. “He took me in as a partner, then helped me get started on my own.” She shrugged, winding up her narrative. “I met Jeff, we got married and had a little girl.”
His eyes never left hers. “Why did you name her Julie?” If she lied, he would know.
“I always liked the name.” She found she couldn’t look away. “And I always liked your mother.” And she had, too. They had gotten along so beautifully, and for a while she’d had great hopes that in marrying Terrance, she would have finally gained a mother, as well. “Her death hit me hard, too.”
He knew that. Just as it had hit him and his father. Terrance always suspected that was why Jake McCall had lost his edge. Why that sniper’s bullet had managed to find him while he’d been on the stakeout. Because his father had already lost his heart three months earlier when the light of his life had gone out and his wife had died, a victim of a drunk driver.
Something stirred within Alix despite all her best efforts. The look in his eyes, just for a split second, looked so terribly sad. She almost reached out to touch his face in silent compassion. But grief was no excuse for having done what he’d done.
There was no excuse.
She’d been frantic and beside herself those first few months, positive that something sinister had befallen him, because he’d dropped off the face of the earth without so much as a trace. Even when the police had told her that Terrance had packed his clothes and taken his car—all of which pointed to a man making a rational decision—she’d been completely convinced that he was the victim of foul play.
What a fool she’d been. How many times do I have to be a fool because of you, Terrance?
Rousing herself, she focused on what he was saying.
“I’m sorry about Jeff,” Terrance mustered a note of sincerity he only partially felt. “I didn’t know him, but I’m sure he was a very good man. You shouldn’t have had that much grief in your life.”
Undercover M.D. Page 5