The Truth About Elyssa. Lorna Michaels
but she’d mentioned to Brett that she’d be here, and they’d arranged to meet in the cafeteria. Ten minutes.
“Let me know when you’re ready. Meanwhile, we’ll authorize the programs in the cancer unit for another four months.” Then she smiled slyly. “I hear you’re seeing Dr. Cameron.”
Elyssa’s mouth dropped open. “I just went out with him Tuesday night.”
“But you’ve been staring into each other’s eyes in the cafeteria for weeks.”
Elyssa’s eyes traveled upward. Heaven help her. “Um, I guess word gets around fast here,” she muttered.
“Yep, faster than the Internet.” Amanda grinned mischievously. “The things I could tell you…”
“You already have.” From Amanda Elyssa had learned that the head of neurology, who’d been married to his wife for twenty years, was involved in a hot affair with a male resident; that two aides in obstetrics had engaged in a nasty altercation over a trivial misunderstanding; and that the hospital would soon announce its participation in trials of what was considered the most promising AIDS drug in the last decade.
Even in high school Amanda had had such a proclivity for gossip that she’d earned the nickname Miss Tattles. She’d loved the name; she’d even titled her column in the school paper Miss Tattles’ Tales. Now she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. “So is it serious?”
“Are you kidding? After one dinner?”
Amanda sighed dramatically. “Love at first sight.”
“That, my dear, is a myth.”
Later when she saw Brett coming toward her, she told herself that just because seeing a man made you breathless, it didn’t mean love. At first or even second sight.
“A consultation came up,” he said, “so I only have a few minutes. I should have called you and canceled…but I wanted to see you.” His lips curved in the sexy smile that made women go weak in the knees. “So, how about a quick cup of coffee? We can sit on the patio.”
Elyssa cocked her head and smiled at him. “Is this a date?”
He chuckled as he paid for their coffee. “A cheap one.”
The patio behind the cafeteria was quiet, with only a few tables filled. The worst of the midday August heat had dissipated, leaving the promise of evening in its wake. They drank their coffee, and Elyssa told Brett that Amanda had extended her contract. “I know I have you to thank for it,” she added.
“Don’t thank me. You earned that extension.”
When they finished their coffee, he walked her to her car. In the garage he nodded to a tired-looking man in scrubs, then glanced over his shoulder and raised a hand in greeting as a silver Lincoln Town Car drove slowly past.
He held Elyssa’s door open, leaned close and to her surprise, kissed her hard. “Drive carefully,” he said, and shut the door.
Her heart pirouetted wildly from his kiss. And she thought, maybe love at first sight wasn’t a myth after all.
Brett glanced at his watch—10:00 a.m. Clark Madigan rarely kept a colleague waiting when he scheduled a meeting, but this morning Brett had been cooling his heels in the chief of staff’s outer office for nearly twenty minutes. He wondered what Clark wanted to see him about. When Clark called at nine saying, “We need to talk,” he’d sounded agitated. Something about the plans for the new hospital or the departmental budget, Brett supposed. He flipped through the latest issue of the New England Journal of Medicine, then glanced up when the door opened.
“Come in, Brett,” Madigan said. “Sit down.”
Wondering at the seriousness of the older man’s expression, Brett sat across the desk from Madigan. Had they lost the grant they’d been counting on from the National Institute of Health?
Madigan frowned, then said, “The woman you were with the other night, Elyssa Jarmon. How long have you been seeing her?”
Brett blinked. This was what his mentor wanted to talk to him about? Why?
An idea dawned, and Brett’s lips twitched. Maybe Madigan had been planning on matchmaking. His daughter was married, but Brett had heard something about a niece who’d recently moved to Indianapolis. Uh-uh, Clark. Thanks, but no thanks. Determined to thwart Madigan’s plans before they got off the ground, Brett smiled easily. “That was our first evening out together. The first of many, I hope.”
Madigan tapped his pen sharply on the desk. “Break it off before there’s a second.”
Brett’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“Stop this…affair before it goes any further.” Madigan’s voice was stern. “She’s a poor choice.”
“And why would that be?” Brett asked. His voice revealed no emotion, but below the desk, his fist clenched. Who did Clark think he was talking to, one of his interns?
“Some time ago Ms. Jarmon aired a story about St. Michael’s,” Madigan answered. “She ruffled some feathers.”
“I don’t think that’s relevant,” Brett began.
“It’s relevant,” Madigan said sharply. “Those feathers are still ruffled.” He leaned forward. “You have a bright future here, Brett. Don’t tarnish it by getting involved with someone who could jeopardize your standing in the medical community.”
Brett fought down his anger. “Look, Clark,” he said, willing his voice to stay calm, “I always appreciate professional advice, but what I do with my free time and who I spend it with is personal. It has nothing to do with my career.”
“On the contrary, it has everything to do with your career.” Madigan put his pen in his pocket. “Think it over. I’m confident you’ll come to the right decision.”
The two men rose. Brett forced himself to shake the proffered hand, say a cordial goodbye and leave.
Come to the “right” decision? Like hell, he thought as he strode down the hall. Clark Madigan had misjudged him. Challenging Brett’s actions made him that much more determined to continue on course. Madigan could say whatever he liked. Brett would damn well see who he wanted to.
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