“SUCTION,” ADAM SAID, pausing to allow the surgical nurse to remove the blood pooling in the chest cavity. “Release the clamp and test the vessel for integrity,” he instructed the surgical intern. “When you’re certain the graft will hold, we can proceed with closure.”
Satisfied that the young surgeon was coping, he looked up at the real-time image on the fluoroscope screen. So far, he couldn’t detect any leaks. The new bypass seemed to be holding steady but the next forty-eight hours would be critical.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of movement in the observation window overlooking the surgical suite and turned as a figure rushed from the room. He didn’t need to see her face to know who it was. That straight-as-a-ruler back and the warm fire of upswept chestnut hair gave her away.
His skull tightened and a tingle worked its way down his spine. Since the foundation meeting a fortnight ago, giving Samantha the space she’d wanted had been both easier and more difficult than he’d imagined. Easier because there’d suddenly been a spate of new patients and he hadn’t had time to sleep let alone follow his instincts. Which was where the difficulty had come in.
Now that he knew the woman who’d dropped into his lap and shaken his world with her bright blue eyes and enthusiastic kisses was right here in San José, giving her space had been the last thing he’d wanted, especially with her habit of appearing in the observation room in the middle of intricate procedures.
If he were honest with himself, it had stung having her call what to him had been the best sex of his life a rebound mistake, and he’d reacted like a nerdy adolescent experiencing his first rejection.
“How’s the temperature holding, Mr Davis?” he asked the perfusionist, deliberately pushing thoughts of Samantha from his mind. The assisting surgeon had released the clamp and there was a collective inhalation as all eyes went to the fluoroscopy monitor. He caught the thumbs-up as everyone watched blood fill the graft section, then flood the heart. After a couple of shudders, it settled into a sluggish rhythm.
“Vitals?”
“Holding steady.” This from the anesthetist.
“All right then, bring the temp up, Mr. Davis. Dr. Guthrie, let’s proceed with closure.” He waited while the two halves of the sternum were brought together. “Talons ready?”
Six hours later, Adam left the elevator and headed down the passage toward the children’s ward. Four-year-old Katie Ross had undergone an atrial septal repair that morning and he wanted to check on her before calling it a day.
Although the procedure was a relatively simple one requiring a transcatheter repair and a tiny device—folded up like an umbrella in the catheter tube—deployed and attached over the hole, she would need careful monitoring over the next few weeks to ensure it did not detach and cause an embolism. Despite the septal defect, the little girl was a bouncy, bright-eyed little imp and keeping her quiet was going to take some doing.
He paused to check the ward register, then moved past the nurses’ station toward the wards, wondering why it was so quiet when the children’s ward was usually filled with the wails of distressed children and the murmured reassurances of nurses and mothers.
He caught the sound of murmured tones spoken into the hushed, expectant silence followed by a chorus of childish gasps. A low familiar feminine laugh sent him spinning back nearly three months.
He paused in the doorway to Katie’s room, finding a group of children, ranging from about three to nine, gathered around Katie’s bed. Some were leaning against their mothers while others practically bounced up and down in their excitement as the story unfolded.
Nurses quietly checked their vitals and the person using different voices to bring the story alive for the wide-eyed audience was none other than the woman he’d spent way too much time thinking about.
Samantha Jefferies. Not looking as out of place as she might with her upswept hair and off-the-shoulder half-sleeved rose-colored dress more suited to a fancy ladies’ luncheon than the children’s ward. Snuggled in her lap was a small boy with messy dark hair and sleepy eyes. Adam watched as she absently smoothed the overlong strands off his forehead before turning the page and continuing the story.
Disinclined to draw attention to himself and break up the story hour holding the children spellbound, Adam propped his shoulder against the open doorway and watched the engrossed little faces while a husky voice brought the story to life.
He sensed someone come up behind him and turned to see Janice Norman. The Paeds APRN arched her brow at him before turning her attention to the gathering around Katie’s bed. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
Adam turned back to the scene, his expression neutral. Janice had been in San Francisco the night he and Samantha had met and wasn’t anyone’s fool. She’d spot a weakness a mile away and take unholy delight in needling him.
“Ms. Jefferies come here a lot?” he murmured casually.
“Usually about this time,” she said absently. “And sometimes in the afternoons when the kids are restless. They love her. She’s a natural, and her stories distract them from all the poking and prodding.”
Adam scratched his jaw and wondered if Janice knew that his heart was pumping a little faster, that a buzz had started at the base of his spine and traveled all the way to the top of his head at the sound of that husky voice. A voice he recalled urging him on. Don’t stop, she’d ordered, Harder, and then on a sexy little hitch, Oh...oh...right there.
Just the memory had his body hardening, and by the knowing little smirk on Janice’s lips, she recognized Sam and wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to rag him.
“You know,” she remarked idly after a couple of beats, confirming Adam’s worst fears. “I can’t help noticing how much she reminds me of someone.” Having known her since his intern days, she knew him better than anyone and enjoyed making him squirm. Schooling his features, he just grunted even as Samantha finally looked up and noticed she had another audience member.
She stopped abruptly mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she stared at him for a couple of beats before flushing and looking away. But in that moment, Adam had seen both anxiety and vulnerability beneath the surprise. The vulnerability got to him in a place he hadn’t expected. His chest. Or more specifically his heart. It clenched hard and all he could do was rub the heel of his hand against the sharp ache.
Dammit, he snarled silently. The last thing he needed was to feel anything for the woman who’d relegated him to a rebound mistake. Even if he’d never thought to see her again.
“So...” Janice said casually. “You and the Prom Queen, huh?” Without waiting for him to reply, she glared at him and demanded, “When were you going to tell me that the woman from the bar in San Francisco is related to Dr. Rutherford and working for the foundation?”
Amused by the censure in her tone, Adam shrugged because he hadn’t wanted to talk about Samantha with anyone. He wasn’t sure why; what had happened between them was just too private to discuss. Even with friends.
“They’re not actually related,” he said absently, before hitting her with what he hoped was a look of male bafflement that he didn’t for a minute think she bought. “I think the connection has something to do with her grandfather.” He let his gaze drift over the yawning kids, then squinted at his watch. “It’s a bit late for story time, don’t you think?”
Narrowed eyes promising retribution, she growled and shoved past him, leaving Adam relieved that he’d narrowly escaped a grilling. The relief was short-lived, however, when his gaze drifted back to Samantha and their eyes locked again. Hers widened and darkened as wild color rushed beneath the creamy skin, making him wonder if she was remembering that night too.
But did her determination to ignore what he felt between them stem from the fact that he was a doctor; that she’d only recently broken off her engagement and didn’t want to jump into a new relationship too quickly; or because of his background? Not that he was looking for a relationship, he assured himself. She wouldn’t be the first woman to sleep with a man because of the thrill of the forbidden and she probably wouldn’t be the last.
His own mother had treated his father as a temporary thrill while she sowed her wild, youthful oats before marrying a man worthy of her blue-blooded status. He’d often wondered if falling pregnant had been a way to rebel against the strictures of her family or if she’d just been young and stupid. Whatever it was, he’d ended up collateral damage and spent most of his life fighting the prejudice of having one foot not only in his mother’s culture but in his father’s too.
He had no desire to repeat his parents’ mistakes or be anyone’s rebellious one-night stand. He thought too much of himself for that. He’d had to work twice as hard to be given even half the respect other students or doctors expected as their right. He’d never minded the hard work since it had put him on Coco Rutherford’s radar and helped him become a top cardiothoracic surgeon.
He certainly didn’t need a curvy chestnut-haired woman reminding him of his childhood and making him feel as though he was always on the outside looking in. As though he was good enough for wild rebound sex but not for anything more open or long-term. He refused to yearn for scraps of attention the way his father had, finally hitting a spiral of depression and alcohol because some vain, shallow debutante had only wanted a quick thrill.
Reminding of a past he had no intention of repeating, Adam pushed away from the door frame, suddenly needing fresh air. He would come back later, he told himself as he left the ward. He’d return to check on Katie when the ward was quiet—when he could think past the urge to mess up Samantha’s sophisticated perfection in an effort to find the warm sexy woman from San Francisco.
Pulse jumping, Sam saw Adam’s eyes change—narrow and cool—before he turned and disappeared. It was as though he’d come to some decision that she knew should have relieved her, but didn’t.
Oh, boy, it really didn’t.
And with that realization, she sucked in a sharp breath and cringed as her thoughts tumbled one over the other inside her head. Had she—had she secretly wanted Adam to ignore what she’d said about rebound sex and not give her the space she’d said she needed?
Her belly bottomed out and a rush of heat washed over her at the images that popped into her mind. Oh, God, she had, she thought with horror. In some silly feminine part of her, she’d secretly hoped that he wouldn’t be able to stay away. That he’d ambush her, push her up against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless.
Her lips tingled but she ignored it, because it made her a vain and shallow person who said one thing while meaning another because he was hot and buff and made her feel like a sexy, desirable woman. Which meant, dammit, that for all her talk of changing her life, changing herself, she was still not taking charge of anything.
Cringing at the knowledge that she was falling back on old habits, she dispensed a few hugs with a promise to be back the next day. A headache squeezing her forehead, she returned Janice Norman’s greeting with a wan smile and headed for the exit, eager to escape the woman’s speculative gaze.
It was only when she was alone in the elevator that she recognized the roiling emotions for what they were. Jealousy. She was jealous of the closeness she’d sensed between Adam and the head paediatric nurse.
And if that didn’t make her a pathetic fool, she didn’t know what did.
It should have been easy for Adam to put Ms. Boston Socialite firmly out of his mind. He’d learned early on that he couldn’t control everything and then put all his energy into doing just that. He’d focused on acing high school and then med school, needing to prove to himself that he’d been awarded the Stanford scholarship because he deserved it.
He’d worked two jobs until Coco swept into his life, becoming much more than a mentor. She’d arranged for him to work at the hospital so he could focus on medicine and bullied him to eat properly. At first, he’d been too proud to accept her help, but she’d simply told him that she was protecting her investment. When he’d realized that helping him was helping her get over the death of someone she’d loved, he’d accepted—albeit reluctantly—then worked his ass off to prove she hadn’t been wrong about him.
There’d been women, of course, but he’d never allowed anyone to become a distraction from what was important; and that was overcoming his past and becoming the best cardiothoracic surgeon on the West Coast.
He’d been perfectly happy with the status quo, seeking out women when the need arose, all the while focusing his energies on professional goals. Then he’d met Amanda, who’d turned out to be Coco’s Sammie, and his focus had shattered.
Okay, maybe not shattered, but she’d jolted him out of the nice little groove his life had become and made him want something he hadn’t let himself want in a very long time.
He wanted a connection.
Ironic as hell, considering the woman wanted nothing—except distance—from him. Even worse, he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to look forward to seeing her in the surgical observation room until she stopped coming.
And damn if he didn’t miss her.
He scowled at the thought. Damn the woman, and damn the effect she had on him.
Then, before he’d realized he’d come to the decision, he found himself heading to the floors housing the hospital’s top management late the following Friday. He’d been on his rounds when an idea had popped into his head fully formed.
The best way to get Samantha out of his system, he decided, was to spend some time with her and see how she handled a day in Juniper Falls where he was due for his monthly outreach visit. It was where the foundation had been conceived—and where he’d grown up. He was hoping the differences in their upbringing would cure him of his growing obsession with a woman that was way out of his social league.
It was only when he saw Coco sitting in reception, frowning at the computer screen, that he realized how late it was. The only other illumination came from one corner lamp.
“Adam,” Coco said when he opened the door. She looked surprised to see him. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I uh—” His mind went blank for a couple of beats before abruptly coming back online. “Nothing’s wrong but I was looking for Samantha and only just realized how late it is.”
Coco frowned and turned her attention back to the screen. “Sammie? Why?”
He thought about leaving but then firmed his jaw. Dammit, he wasn’t that awkward kid he’d been at fifteen screwing himself up inside over the most popular girl in school. Giving in to the discomfort, he rubbed the back of his neck and said as casually as he could, “I’m flying out to Juniper Falls in the morning and thought she might like to see what Galahad is all about. She’s been here over a month and aside from meeting some of our recipients, she knows next to nothing about the foundation.”
“Great idea.” She waved her arm to the passage that led to the offices before resuming her keyboard clacking. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.” She paused and sent him a quick grimace. “You just missed her though. She went out to dinner on a—”
“Date?” he interrupted so sharply that Coco looked up, her expression oddly arresting. Embarrassed by his outburst he brushed it aside with, “Never mind,” his brows drawing together over the unpleasant emotions tightening the back of his skull at the realization that while he hadn’t had a date in—heck, he couldn’t remember—Samantha was out to dinner.
He knew exactly what the emotion was but it had been at least twenty years since he’d felt it, and he couldn’t understand why it was emerging now.
“Do you have her cell number? I need to get an early start.”
Coco grabbed a small notepad off the receptionist’s desk and scribbled something. She tore off the top sheet and thrust it at him.
“What time do you plan to leave?”
“About five, why?”
“Better pick her up at four thirty with hot, sweet coffee. She’s not an easy morning person. Oh, and Adam—” She waited for him to meet her gaze and after a couple of beats said, “Give her a chance.”
Confusion tightened his forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“Sammie isn’t anything like your mother,” she said gently, her eyes dark and soft with a compassion that he abruptly wished wasn’t focused on him. Dammit, he wasn’t some orphan.
“I know that—” he began irritably only to have Coco interrupt.
“Do you?” she drawled softly, one brow arching up her forehead as though he were a little dense.
Frustration grabbed him by the throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wanted to tell her to mind her own business but she’d been mother, mentor and friend to him when no one else had cared.
“It means I know you too well,” she said gently, pushing away from the desk, a challenge gleaming in the eyes that locked with his. “It means that every relationship you’ve had since we met has been with social butterflies. Relationships that had an expiration date even before they started.”
“That isn’t relevant,” he growled. “Besides, Samantha and I do not have a relationship outside of the foundation.”
Coco clucked her disappointment. “Do you think I haven’t seen the way you look at each other when you think no one is watching? You’re interested, Adam, but you’re so determined to paint all socialites with the same brush as your mother that you’ll overlook the fact that Sammie is warm and generous and funny—absolutely nothing like those other women.”
What could he say to that but, “This is for the foundation,” before turning and walking away.
Of course, Coco had to have the last word but she let him get to the door before saying smugly, “Oh, and in case you wondered—she’s interested too.”