A Date With Dr Moustakas. Amy Ruttan
she said as she backed out of the lounge and made her way to a small office where she could do her paperwork in relative peace.
Maybe she should cancel lunch with her cousin Lisa, who was working on the island as a nanny, and catch an earlier ferry back to Athens. Then at least she’d have the sea to separate herself from Christos Moustakas.
Only, deep down, she knew the sea wasn’t enough to keep him at bay. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about Chris and their lost baby, but it all came rushing back to her regardless.
Work was the only thing that kept the pain at bay, but she wasn’t sure even that would be enough now, because Chris was here in Mythelios—and he clearly still had the ability to invade both her dreams and her heart.
CHRIS MANAGED TO avoid Naomi for most of the morning by retreating into one of the offices to go over the file that Ares wanted an opinion on.
He leaned over the computer and frowned as the scans from the Athens MRI came up. The scans were of a local Mythelios bartender whom they all knew and loved.
He’d heard that since the earthquake in May Stavros had been experiencing debilitating headaches, but he’d always brushed them off until finally, the other day, he’d collapsed.
Now Chris knew why Stavros had been having such a hard time, because he was staring down at one of the biggest anaplastic oligodendrogliomas that he’d ever seen.
Dammit.
He knew men like Stavros; the older generation of men from the island were stubborn and brushed off what they thought were minor symptoms, like a headache, as nothing. “Minor symptoms” that might be warning them of something far more sinister. Like Stavros’s headaches.
Chris leaned back in the swivel chair and scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. This surgery would be intricate and costly.
It was too expensive to have the clinic cover the cost—especially since the clinic was still trying to recover financially from the consequences of the earthquake. And even though Stavros had a successful taverna, Chris was pretty sure that he didn’t have enough money to pay for this surgery.
Yet Chris couldn’t let him die. He had to try to find a way to help Stavros. He had to get a surgical team together. He needed an operating room and post-anesthesia care. The list was endless.
He hated cases like this, but he also loved cases like this. It was a challenge, and he hadn’t had a challenge like this in so long.
“That’s one nasty-looking tumor,” Naomi said, interrupting his thoughts.
Chris turned to see Naomi leaning in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the screen. She was so close to him he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. Jasmine and magnolia. It reminded him of his time in Nashville. The flowers from the trees there had bloomed and filled the air with their sweet fragrance, and every time he’d taken Naomi in his arms he’d thought of those flowers. The blooms so soft, so delicate and so beautiful...
Get a hold of yourself.
“Yes. It is. A local patient who hasn’t got time to wait for a place on a state-provided health care surgery list. To pay privately it’s going to be costly, and I don’t think he’ll be able to afford it, sadly. If he wants to live, I’m going to have to get him to Athens and do it myself.”
Which made him think about how he’d have to uproot Evangelos and take him to Athens too. He would have to find a big enough rental unit so that he, Lisa and Evangelos all had their privacy. It was going to be a nightmare, but Chris couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Stavros would die.
“Well, you know the International Relief effort might be willing to help this patient out.”
“I thought those funds could only be used to help out earthquake victims. He might have been a victim of the earthquake, but this tumor has been growing for several years.”
“Funds are to help those in need,” she said. “If he needs help—”
“I have to talk to the patient first and give him all the details,” Chris interrupted. “He may say no.”
“Yes, but you’re saying he needs the surgery. Correct?” she asked.
“Yes. He does.”
“Do you know him? Do you think he’ll agree to the surgery?”
“Only if he gets to pay his way. He’s stubborn—like most men from this island.”
He couldn’t help but grin at her, and for a brief moment he thought he saw a flicker of humor in her eyes and a small twitch of a smile on her lips.
“Well, I’ll try to find out more information. I would like to help in any way that I can. I used to...”
She trailed off and the pink flush of a blush bloomed in her cheeks. He knew what she was going to say, because he was thinking it too.
“You used to assist me in surgery. You were a brilliant neurosurgical resident. Please tell me you didn’t give up neurosurgery.”
“Oh, you mean after you got the fellowship and then the position in Manhattan?”
Chris sighed. “I didn’t take that position to hurt you, Naomi.”
She frowned. “I know that—and, yes, I’m still a neurosurgeon, as well as a more than competent general surgeon, which was what was particularly needed in the aftermath of the earthquake.”
“I’m glad.”
And he was. Naomi was far too talented to be wasted.
He had been so relieved when he’d gotten that position in New York. Naomi had been getting way too close to him for comfort. She’d become part of his life in a way he’d never wanted a woman to be. The Manhattan job had been an escape and he’d jumped at the chance.
He’d completed his fellowship and then become an attending all within three years, and he didn’t regret it. The only thing he regretted was losing her along the way. Being so scared of committing to one woman for the rest of his life that he’d run away rather than face up to his fears.
And he regretted hurting her career. He wanted to ask her about whether she’d ever got into Mayo. He wanted to know what she’d done after they’d parted. But he couldn’t find the words. He was still far too ashamed.
He glanced at his watch.
It was noon, and he had to head back to relieve Lisa for lunch. Besides, he wouldn’t mind having a light lunch at home and a quick nap. The coffee, though strong, had not woken him up. He needed sleep.
“Well, I’d better get some lunch.” He stood. “Are you eating here?”
“No, I have plans. A lunch date,” she said.
A lunch date? With who?
He was surprised by the sharp burst of jealousy that reared its ugly head deep inside him.
You don’t have any claim on her now.
“Oh...?”
“Yes,” she said noncommittally, not taking the bait and elaborating. “So, I’ll see you later, back at the clinic?”
“Yeah. Enjoy your lunch date.”
“Oh, I will,” she chirped.
Follow her. Find out who he is.
Only, he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to let that jealous, foolish part of him take over. It had been way too many years since he’d gotten into any kind of a brawl over a girl, and he couldn’t afford to have his hands out of commission now. Not when