Paging Dr. Daddy. Teresa Southwick
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into Janie’s room much later that day. Courtney was sitting exactly where he’d left her earlier and the oversized blue scrubs were a big clue that she’d been there without a break. Over twenty-four hours had passed since the accident. Had she slept properly? Eaten anything? And since when did patient-care protocols extend to the patient’s mother? Was she the reason he kept coming back here to check? Because there was nothing further he could do for Janie.
Correction: nothing until her initial injuries healed. By that time he’d be back at his Beverly Hills office. He remembered the way worry had darkened Courtney’s eyes when she realized everything would be more financially complicated because the procedure couldn’t be done here. Insurance companies could get squirrelly about paying for medical costs that were considered “cosmetic.” But this little girl could be disfigured for the rest of her life if the repair wasn’t done. He told himself that’s why he couldn’t get Courtney out of his mind.
She stood by the hospital bed and stretched her good arm over her head, then rolled her shoulders as if everything were stiff. The baggy scrubs didn’t hide the fact that she had curves in all the right places. If anything, that made him want to see for himself. A warm twang in his chest startled him and when she glanced in his direction, he thought the sound had found its way out.
“Hi.” Her voice reflected the surprised expression in her eyes.
He raised a hand in greeting. “Hi.”
“I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I came back to see my brother.” Only half a lie. Peter had gone for the day, but there was no reason to mention that. “How’s Janie?”
“Asleep.” She took a quick look, then walked over to him. “She was in some discomfort so they gave her something. On top of that I think she’s pretty exhausted.”
“Sleep is the best thing for her. Is she eating?”
“A little. They’re trying to tempt her with burgers, mac and cheese and chocolate puddings. But she said her favorite thing was the milkshake you brought her. That was very nice of you, by the way.”
He shrugged. “I’m glad she enjoyed it. Good to know some things don’t change—like the food in your favorite hangout.”
“Must have been nice to have a hangout,” she said wistfully.
The remark made him curious. “Where did you and your friends spend time?”
“Here and there,” she said vaguely. “So, how much longer will you be here?”
“You seem awfully anxious to get rid of me,” he accused.
“No.” The denial was too quick and the look on her face too much like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. “It’s just you’re a busy doctor and I figured you needed to get back to your patients.”
“Janie is my patient, too.”
“And you’ve done everything you can for now. But you’re just passing through and we don’t want to keep you from—”
He held up his hand. “If it’s not nice, you’ll hate yourself for saying something snarky.”
Her expression was exaggerated innocence. “I was just going to say that all those rich women desperate to smooth out the worry lines in their foreheads need love too.”
David couldn’t shake the feeling that this was her way of saying “don’t let the door hit you in the backside on your way out.” Her sincere gratitude for his help was real, no question about that. So there must be another reason she was anxious to get rid of him. Did she feel the sparks between them too? The more she pushed, the greater his inclination to push back, to dig his heels in and see how she reacted. How perverse was that?
“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked, changing the subject.
She blinked. “What?”
“Have you taken a break from this room and had anything to eat?”
“I’m not your patient, David.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about you.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been taking care of my daughter and myself for a very long time.”
Since her husband died. But he had the feeling it had started even before that and he wanted to know more.
“Have dinner with me,” he said.
She glanced over at the bed where Janie was still sleeping soundly. “I can’t leave her.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“I’m not sure that’s relevant, but yes,” she said.
“If she needs you they can call. You need some fresh air and non-hospital food.”
“I’m fine.” But her stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. She met his gaze and her expression turned sheepish when she knew he’d heard, too.
“Fine, but hungry.”
“In spite of what you heard, I don’t have much appetite,” she protested.
“Look, you can keep throwing out lame excuses, or just suck it up and let me take you to dinner.”
“David, I’ll just cut to the chase.” She suddenly looked drawn and tired. “You’re obviously a caring man but you’ve let things slip. I’m fairly certain that handsome face of yours hides all kinds of demons. The truth is, I just don’t need one more challenge in my life.”
“Was that a compliment?” he asked.
“Which part?” she said, her forehead furrowing as she thought.
“The handsome part.”
A flush crept into her cheeks, welcome color to chase away the paleness. “Must be post-accident loose-tongue syndrome again.”
“Must be.” He slid his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “Would you say yes to dinner if I promise to leave my demons in the car?”
When one corner of her mouth curved up it was clear she was weakening. “Can it be my treat?”
“Okay, as long as we take my car.”
She sent him a wry look. “Since I don’t have a car at the moment, I have to ask—is that sarcasm, Doctor?”
“I guess I’ve been hanging out with you too long. But it has to be said that I’ve learned from the best.”
David found himself back at Buns ’n’ Burgers on Lexington Avenue for two reasons—it was close to the hospital and in Courtney’s budget. They ordered at the counter, got a number for table delivery and he carried their tray to a secluded corner booth.
She slid in with a tired sigh. “I feel so darn guilty.”
“Because?” He sat across from her.
“The fresh air feels so good. What kind of mother am I to be enjoying the world outside Walnut River General while my child is there?”
“She’s asleep, Court. She doesn’t know you’re not there. If she needs you, they’ll call. Relax and recharge your batteries.”
A teenage boy in a yellow Buns ’n’ Burgers shirt and matching hat delivered their cheeseburgers and fries, asked if they needed anything else, then left after an automatic, “Enjoy your meal.”
With her good hand, Courtney picked up her burger and wolfed it down as though she hadn’t eaten in a month. She chewed the last bite and—he was going to hell for this thought—she looked like a woman satisfied by the best sex of her life.
“Good burger?” he asked. Even if he didn’t feel the physical evidence, the inane question would have been positive proof that blood flow from his brain had been diverted to points south.