The Truth About Elyssa. Lorna Michaels
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nodded. “He was my best friend.”
“You’d have been lonely…and scared.”
He’d been devastated. To his surprise Elyssa understood.
She propped her chin on her hand. “And so you became a dragon slayer.”
No one had ever put it quite that way, but she was right. Cancer was a beast, and every day he tried his damnedest to defeat it. How had she recognized so easily what he’d struggled to articulate and never could? Amazed, he stared into her eyes. Eyes that seemed to see straight into his soul.
He wanted to touch her, make the connection he felt tangible. But he didn’t, and the moment passed.
“Did you ever consider any other career?” she asked.
“When I was seven I wanted to be a pilot. At four, I considered becoming a trash collector but gave up on that.”
“Wise decision.”
Her eyes glowed with interest, he noted. She’d done this before in her work as a reporter, and she enjoyed it. Move over, Barbara Walters, he thought. But she wasn’t Barbara Walters anymore, he reminded himself, and again wondered why.
“What do you want to be doing in ten years?” she asked.
“Still working in the field I’m in and making the new hospital the best damn pediatric cancer facility in the country.”
“Any personal aspirations outside your career?” she asked.
Once he’d have answered yes. He’d have said he wanted marriage, a family. Not anymore. “Not at the moment.”
“I suppose, with the new hospital almost underway, your life is full enough,” she said.
It had been once. Remorse, as familiar as his breath, washed over him. But he’d had plenty of practice in hiding his emotions, so he nodded, then smiled at her. “When we open, you can be our resident clown.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Dr. Cameron.”
“Call me Brett, since we’ll be working together.”
“All right…Brett.” She gave him the gift of a smile, and they continued talking. He hadn’t spent an hour like this in a long time, relaxing and enjoying the company of a charming woman.
They’d do it again. Somewhere quiet and elegant with good food and wine and soft music playing in the background. Then they’d take the next step.
Not that he was in the market for anything serious. Just a light, carefree relationship with pleasant evenings, leading to even more pleasant nights. No strings.
When they went upstairs so Elyssa could get her things, he asked. “What’s the plan for next Tuesday?”
Violet eyes sparkled. “Magic.”
“Sounds intriguing. Will you tell me about it afterward?”
She hesitated long enough for him to think he’d scared her off again, but to his relief she said, “Sure.”
When she left, he read charts, then his pager sounded. One of his patients had been rushed in and was in the E.R., barely clinging to life. Adrenaline flowing, he dashed out of his office, bypassed the notoriously slow elevators and took the stairs.
Three hours later, with the youngster finally stabilized and the parents’ fears calmed as much as possible, he grabbed a cup of coffee in the doctors’ lounge. With luck, the caffeine would keep him awake long enough to drive home, where he could snatch a few hours sleep. A message on his voice mail informed him that he was due at a meeting of department heads at 7:00 a.m. He could crash here, but he preferred a shower and his own bed.
He found he didn’t need the caffeine buzz. Thoughts of Elyssa—her voice, that sassy walk, that wildly arousing perfume—kept him up even after he fell, naked and still damp from the shower, into his bed.
He was a damn fool. Slaying dragons, as Elyssa had put it, drained every ounce of his energy, claimed every moment of his time. Especially now, with the groundbreaking for the new hospital building only weeks away. He had no business starting even a superficial relationship, provided Elyssa wanted one. And judging from her response to his dinner invitation, she didn’t.
Best to forget it, he thought as he drifted into sleep at last. They’d both…be…better off….
“Dinner?”
“Coffee. In the cafeteria. Dutch.”
Over the past four weeks, this had become Brett and Elyssa’s routine. On Thursdays, when she entertained the children, he was away from the hospital. But, on Tuesdays, after her clown class, they would meet in his office, then he’d ask her out for dinner at a restaurant and she’d refuse. Always pleasantly, but always firmly.
Every week he told himself he wouldn’t ask again. But he needed to eat, didn’t he? And he’d enjoy something better than unappetizing hospital chow. But that seemed to be all he’d get if he wanted to spend time with Elyssa.
Every week he became more captivated by her. Each time he saw her, his longing for her increased. He had to force himself not to lean across the table and taste her. He wanted to pull off that wig and bury his face in her hair, inhale its scent, feel its texture. He wanted to take her home, take her to bed. But what he wanted didn’t seem to matter because she damn well wouldn’t give him the chance.
Until now, he’d controlled his frustration. He’d been patient and polite. Too patient, too polite. Now was the time to push. Lightly, for starters. “Ouch. An arrow through the heart. You’ve turned me down four times in a row.”
Elyssa cocked her head. “I doubt your heart is the least bit wounded.”
“Trust me, it is. You can’t see the damage.”
She gave him a smile, a friendly but impersonal one, and started down the hall ahead of him.
In two quick strides he caught up with her. “Elyssa—” Two residents left the nurses’ station and fell into step behind them, trailing them into the elevator and all the way to the cafeteria. Exasperated, Brett held his peace until he and Elyssa were seated at a table in the corner, away from interested ears and wagging tongues. The hell with pushing lightly. “Are you involved with someone?” he asked.
“No.” Emotion flashed in her eyes but disappeared before he could read it. “You’ve caught me at an inconvenient time, that’s all.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m doing a birthday party at The Hungry Caterpillar at six. I have to stay in costume.”
“I always seem to catch you at an inconvenient time.”
She shrugged as she stirred creamer into her coffee. “What can I say? I have to take care of business.”
“Business,” he muttered. “What about pleasure?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’ll ask you out again,” he said. “Expect it.”
Her eyes gleamed with that unreadable emotion again. “No, Brett, don’t.”
“Don’t, what?” The frustration he’d concealed boiled over. “Don’t think about you? Don’t want to be with you?”
“Brett—” She pushed away the sweet roll she’d barely tasted and stood up.
He caught her wrist. “Don’t go. At least explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” But she sat down again. “This is a critical time for me. I’m trying to get my business off the ground.”
“All work and no play—”’
“Easy for you to say. You’ve already made your mark. Look, Brett.” She leaned forward, and the scent of her perfume teased his nostrils. “I like talking to you, but I don’t want to get involved with