The Millionaire And The M.D.. Teresa Southwick
the scared, impossibly young girl with the defensive attitude. The teen had problems, one of which was a high-risk pregnancy.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of someone in the doorway, and her heart jumped, then pounded as if it would burst out of her chest. It was normal for a woman alone to be nervous. Yet Rebecca’s nerves always seemed to be running on high-test and hope was fading that the feeling would ever go away. The man who’d broken into her body the way a burglar breaks into a house had stolen her sense of safety, and she would always hate him for that.
“Are you okay, Rebecca?”
“Yeah, Grace.” She let out a breath and forced herself to relax. “I thought you’d already left.”
Green-eyed, redheaded Grace Martinson was her friend and combination nurse/office manager. When her practice grew sufficiently, Rebecca planned to hire more staff, but in the meantime it was Grace and her against the world.
“Still here, but if there’s nothing else you need, I’m going home.”
“Have a nice evening.” Rebecca hesitated, then said, “Wait a second. What’s your impression of Amy Thorne?”
“Mixed-up teenager.” Grace frowned. “Now ask me about her brother.”
Rebecca didn’t want to go there, but participation in the conversation was easier than explaining why she didn’t want to go there. “Okay. What do you think of him?”
“Above and beyond the call of duty comes to mind.”
“Really?” It was reluctant duty at best in Rebecca’s opinion.
“It’s not every brother who would make sure his pregnant sister got medical care.” Grace smiled. “And he’s not hard on the eyes.”
“You think so? I didn’t notice,” she lied.
“Oh, please. How could you not? He reminds me of someone.” Grace snapped her fingers. “I know. The actor who was in that movie How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.”
Rebecca didn’t need ten days to lose a guy. For her it was ten seconds, the time it took to tell her fiancé about the assault. Maybe not quite that fast, but everything had changed afterward until finally he dumped her. And that’s how she learned that there was more than one way to violate a person’s trust.
“I didn’t see that movie. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw any movie,” Rebecca admitted.
“You need to get out more.” Grace tsked sympathetically. “There’s more to life than work.”
This was an ongoing debate and a continuing waste of breath. Rebecca was perfectly happy, and it did no good to tell her friend that a personal life was highly overrated. She loved being a doctor and believed herself lucky that her career was deeply fulfilling. If she was a little lonely, well, it was better than giving trust another try only to confirm that the third time is not the charm.
“Weren’t you going home?” Rebecca reminded her.
“Right. See you tomorrow.” Grace waved, then was gone.
Rebecca picked up Amy’s chart again and thought about the teenager. Definitely mixed up, but there was something about her. The flinch, the shame, the fear in her eyes when they’d talked about the baby’s father. Rebecca had felt fear and shame once and wondered if she and her patient shared the same soul-shattering secret.
Or was she imagining victims where none existed? God, she was tired. She wished she could blame it on an all-nighter at the hospital, but she’d simply had a bad dream. The first in a long time. It was the noises in her new condo. That was normal when one moved to a different place. Right?
And when she could identify all the things that went bump in the night, she wouldn’t wake up gasping for air because she was dreaming that same terrifying dream, reliving the nightmare of what happened to her. As soon as she felt comfortable and secure, the past would go back deep inside and stay buried where it belonged. And she would stop assigning a similar experience to a patient who’d probably just had unprotected sex with her boyfriend.
A shadow in the doorway startled her again. This time she ignored it. Without looking up she said, “I thought you went home, Grace—”
“Hi, Doc.”
She looked up. Speaking of the devil. Standing there in the doorway was the noble brother in question.
“Gabe.” Rebecca struggled to slow her pounding heart and get her breathing under control. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He grinned and turned on the charm Grace had seen.
Rebecca felt a little shimmy in her stomach that was as annoying as it was surprising. She’d felt it earlier, too, in the exam room, a feminine reaction to his masculine appeal, but the doctor part had taken over and concentrated on her patient.
This time she was one-on-one with him. He had startled her, but that was all. She wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t be afraid of a man who’d brought his runaway teenage sister to a prenatal exam any more than she could help noticing how blue his eyes were and that his dark-blond hair could use a trim. Any woman with a pulse would find it impossible to ignore his broad shoulders, wide chest and flat abdomen in the white dress shirt tucked into a pair of well-cut slacks that showed off his muscular legs and great butt.
“I saw Grace in the parking lot,” he said, his voice like warm chocolate and Southern Comfort. “She let me in.”
“Why did you come back?”
“I want to know how my sister is.”
“Amy and I discussed everything.” Rebecca had done all the talking so “discuss” was stretching it. But she’d given the teen a lot of information. She took off her glasses and tossed them on the stack of charts. “Did you ask her how she is?”
“Yes. Now I’m asking you.”
“If there was something she didn’t understand, I’d be happy to explain it again. To her.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d explain it to me.”
“She wouldn’t tell you.”
It wasn’t a question. If he knew, he wouldn’t be here, which would certainly make her life easier. But she was puzzled. Amy had gone to him for help and now was holding back. Why?
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb as he shrugged. “You know how teenagers are. A lot of it went over her head. She couldn’t remember. So just give me the facts.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?” he demanded. “I’m her brother. I’ve got a right to know.”
“Not so much.”
He blinked. “How’s that?”
“Amy is not in a coma,” Rebecca explained. “She’s able to give consent and she’s choosing to make her own decisions about her medical treatment.”
“I’m not asking to make decisions.”
“Right.” She suspected he wanted to be in control, otherwise he wouldn’t have come back for information. If Amy wasn’t inclined to share it, why had she gone to him in the first place?
“Don’t look now but your skepticism is showing, Doc. I just want to know what you told her.”
“There are laws protecting a patient’s right to privacy. If Amy wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”
“She won’t say anything.”
Then neither would Rebecca. She folded her hands on the mess of paperwork in front of her and stared at the baffled expression on Gabe’s face. For a man who liked to be in control it wasn’t a comfortable place to be. And why that tugged at her she couldn’t say.