Unlocking The Surgeon's Heart. Jessica Matthews
features softened and he seemed more hot-blooded male than cold-hearted surgeon.
His smile was also too infectious for her not to return it in full measure. However, if she told anyone he had actually softened enough to smile, they’d never believe her.
Neither would anyone believe her if she told them they’d actually discussed something personal instead of a patient. As far as she knew, it was the first time such a thing had happened in the history of the hospital.
“I hate to break this to you,” she said, “but a slow shuffle won’t cut it when it comes to a competition.”
“Only if your Dancing with the Doctors idea takes hold,” he pointed out. “With luck, it won’t and we’ll both be off the hook.”
She heard the hopeful note in his voice. “Trust me, the committee will love it. You may as well accept the fact you’re going to dance before hundreds of people.”
He frowned for several seconds before he let out a heavy sigh of resignation. “I suppose.”
“And that means you’re going to have to learn a few steps. A waltz, maybe even a tango or a foxtrot.”
“Surely not.” His face looked as pained as his voice.
“Surely so,” she assured him. “It’ll be fun.”
He shot her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look before his Adam’s apple bobbed. He’d clearly, and quite literally, found her comment hard to swallow.
“Tripping over one’s feet in front of an audience isn’t fun,” he pointed out.
“That’s why one learns,” she said sweetly. “So we don’t trip over our feet, or our partner’s. Besides, I know you’re the type who can master any skill that’s important to you. Look at how well you can keyboard. Most docs are still on the hunt-and-peck method but you’re in the same league as a transcriptionist.”
“I’m a surgeon. I’m supposed to be good with my hands,” he said, clearly dismissing her praise. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to the body part in question. For an instant she imagined what it would be like to enjoy this man’s touch. Would he make love with the same single-minded approach he gave everything else in his life that he deemed important?
Sadly, she’d never know. She couldn’t risk the rejection again. However, it had been a long time since she’d been in a relationship and he was handsome enough to make any girl dream of possibilities….
“Hands, feet, they all follow the brain’s commands. ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way’,” she quoted.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he grimaced. “Are you always full of helpful advice, Nurse Pollyanna?” he complained.
Oh, my, but she’d just experienced another first—the most taciturn physician on staff had actually teased her. She was going to have to look outside for snow, which never fell in the Midwest in August.
“I try.” In the distance, she heard the tell-tale alarm that signaled someone’s IV bag had emptied. As if the noise had suddenly reminded him of time and place, he straightened, pulled on his totally professional demeanor like a well-worn lab coat, and pointed to the monitor.
“Keep an eye on Mrs Hollings’s chest tube. Call me if you notice any change.”
She was strangely disappointed to see the congenial Lincoln Maguire had been replaced by his coolly polite counterpart. “Will do.”
Without giving him a backward glance, she rushed to take care of John Carter’s IV. He’d had a rough night after his knee-replacement surgery and now that they’d finally got his pain under control, he was catching up on his sleep. She quickly silenced the alarm, hung a fresh bag of fluid, then left the darkened room and returned to the nurses’ station. To her surprise, Linc hadn’t budged from his spot. He was simply sitting there … as if waiting. For her, maybe? Impossible. Yet it was a heady thought.
“One more thing,” he said without preamble.
“What’s that?” she asked, intending to head to the supply cabinet on his other side in order to replenish the supply of alcohol wipes she kept in her cargo pants pocket.
He rose, effectively blocking her path. “I’ll pick you up tonight.”
Flustered by his statement, she made the mistake of meeting his blue-black gaze, which at her five-eight required some effort because he was at least six-three. It was a gaze that exuded confidence and lingered a few seconds too long.
“Pick me up?” she said. “What for?”
“You’re going to Gail and Ty’s for dinner, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she began cautiously, “but how did you know?”
“Because they invited me, too.”
Great. The first time Gail had hosted a dinner to include both of them, it had turned into a miserable evening. It had been obvious from the way Gail had steered the conversation that she’d been trying to push them together and her efforts had backfired. Lincoln had sat through the next hour wearing the most pained expression in between checking his watch every five minutes. To make matters worse, his attitude had made her nervous, so she’d chattered nonstop until he’d finally left with clear relief on his face. After that, Gail had promised never to put either of them through the misery of a private dinner again.
While the past few minutes had been pleasant, she wasn’t going to believe that this dinner would end differently. Given his unhappiness over the fundraising idea, the results would be the same. It was inevitable.
“How nice,” she said inanely.
“So I’ll swing by and get you.”
She bristled under his commanding tone. He might be able to expect his orders to be obeyed at the hospital, but this was her private life and she made her own decisions.
“Thanks, but don’t go to the trouble. I’ll drive myself.”
“It’s not inconvenient at all. Your house is on my way.”
She stared at him, incredulous. She’d always believed he barely knew who she was, but he knew where she lived? How was that possible?
“Don’t look so horrified,” he said impatiently, as if offended by her surprise. “Gail gave me the address and suggested we come together.”
Good old Gail. Her friend simply wouldn’t stop in her effort to convince her to get back in the dating game, but to use her own brother-in-law when their previous encounter had turned into such a disaster? It only showed how determined—and desperate—her happily married buddy was.
“That’s sweet, but I’d rather—”
“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, before he strode away, leaving her to sputter at his high-handedness.
For an instant, she debated the merits of making him wait, then decided against it. Given their differing personalities, they’d clash soon enough without any effort on her part. There was no sense in starting off on a sour note. Besides, Gail had set dinner for six-thirty, which meant she’d timed her meal to be ready minutes later. If Christy flexed her proverbial muscles to teach Linc a lesson, she’d also make four people unhappy.
In a way, though, having him fetch her for dinner had that date-night feel to it. Although, she was quick to remind herself, just because it seemed like one on the surface—especially to anyone watching—it didn’t mean it was real.
Wryly, she glanced down at her own chest, well aware of how deceiving appearances could be.
Linc strode up the walk to Christy’s apartment, wondering if the evening would be as full of surprises as the day had been. He’d gone to the hospital as he did every morning, but today he’d been swept into the fundraising tide before he’d realized