The Surgeon's One Night To Forever. Ann McIntoshЧитать онлайн книгу.
had felt like another rejection, in no way softened by the squeeze of her fingers on his shoulder.
It was then he’d accepted that nothing good in life lasted. He was better off not getting attached, because to do so just brought heartache.
But this was a new day, full of potential and future adventure, and he wasn’t going to let the past encroach on it. Shrugging off his dark thoughts, Cort wandered along the corridor, away from the chief surgeon and the construction zone.
At the end of the corridor was a T-junction, with a bustling nurses’ station on his right and, as first one person and then the next turned to look at him, he once more became the cynosure of all eyes. Making eye contact with a few people, he nodded and smiled, until a noise to his left caught his attention, and he turned to look.
A woman stood at an exit door, holding a travel cup and tucking a cell phone under her chin. Something about her carriage, her profile made Cort’s heart stumble over itself. And, as she turned slightly to swipe her access card to open the door, for the second time in less than five minutes his world tilted on its axis.
It can’t be.
Yet, as she used her hip to push open the door and slip outside, he knew he wasn’t imagining things.
It definitely was the woman he’d met in Mexico, who’d given him the most sublime night of pleasure he’d ever had, and had then run out on him without a word.
Without even giving him her name.
Worse, he’d confided in her about being dumped just before his wedding. No doubt, with the way hospital grapevines worked, that tidbit of news would be on everyone’s lips by the following day.
A sour sensation filled his stomach, and all the anticipation regarding his new job leached away in an instant. It didn’t matter that he didn’t plan on staying at Hepplewhite very long. He’d only signed a one-year contract and, although the board had made it clear they hoped he’d renew at the end of that time, the plan was to move on to somewhere else. Have another adventure.
Right now, though, this felt less like an adventure and more like a mistake.
So much for a fresh start.
Cell phone held to her ear with one shoulder, Dr. Liz Prudhomme stepped out into the quiet of the staff parking lot and let the door swing shut behind her. Although there had been a midwinter thaw of sorts along the east coast, it was still cold, but after the dry heat of the hospital the damp chill felt good against her face. Grabbing the phone before it slipped, she found an alcove out of the wind and took a sip of her rapidly cooling coffee.
She normally didn’t make personal calls while on duty, but her mother had just flown in from Milan the day before and this was the first opportunity Liz had had to speak to her. With the time difference between New York and California, it was perfect. Her mother would have just finished breakfast.
“The dress is delightful. Giovanna picked a strapless mermaid gown, made completely of Guipure lace. It’s elegant and suits her so well. Although the designer isn’t one I would have chosen, I have to admit it is beautiful.”
In Liz’s opinion, her future sister-in-law could wear a gunny sack and still look gorgeous. After all, Giovanna modeled for some of the world’s best designers and probably wore a size negative three. Pulling off a dress like the one her mother was describing wouldn’t be difficult for her at all.
Even if she wanted to, that wouldn’t be the case for Liz. When it came to height and bone structure, she’d inherited her father’s mostly Anglo-Saxon genes, rather than her mother’s mix of Latin and Asian. She had a farm-girl sturdiness that once upon a time had been the bane of her existence. Now she was proud of her strength, and confident in her womanhood.
Most of the time.
Unless she let old insecurities rise up and blindside her.
But it wasn’t jealousy making Liz feel out of sorts as she listened to her mother breathlessly give her all the details of the dress and their subsequent orgy of shopping. It was the usual feeling of inadequacy, knowing her ex-beauty-queen mother would have loved to have a daughter like Giovanna, rather than the one she had. Someone as passionate about fashion and decorating as Lorelei Prudhomme was herself. A daughter who could follow in her footsteps and excel at being a member of high society, not single-mindedly focused on her medical career.
Better to be useful than decorative.
Funny how often, at times like these, Nanny Hardy’s voice popped into her head, reminding her of what was important. The nanny had left when Liz was eight, but her legacy was lasting.
“I don’t know why they chose New York for the wedding.” Lorelei sighed the special sigh that usually turned all members of her family to mush, and had them falling over themselves to give her whatever she wanted. She’d learned, however, that it didn’t work on the strong-willed Giovanna. “It would have been so much nicer here in San Francisco.”
Liz stifled a prickle of annoyance at hearing the same complaint for the hundredth time but just replied, “It’s where Giovanna and Robbie wanted to have it.”
“I know.” There was no missing the pique in her mother’s delicate tones. “But it’s so inconvenient for us, really.”
So said the woman who flew to Milan to look at a wedding dress, and help her future daughter-in-law shop for a trousseau! Liz shook her head silently, amusement making the corners of her lips quirk. Her anxiety, which always made itself known whenever she spoke to her mother, abated slightly. Taking another sip of her coffee, she swallowed her instinctive, somewhat snarky reply along with the strong brew.
“However, I’m sure it will be lovely. Giovanna has exquisite taste. Are you bringing anyone to the wedding?”
Caught off guard by the quick change of subject, although that was her mother’s usual style of conversation, Liz said the first thing that came to mind. “Highly unlikely.”
As her mother sighed again, Liz got that familiar sense of being not quite enough of a woman to suit.
Despite it being eight years since Liz had had a serious romantic relationship, her mother never stopped hoping, asking leading questions whenever the opportunity arose. Although she’d never say so to her mother, there was no way Liz was going down that painful road again. Lessons learned the first time around didn’t have to be repeated, and Andrew had certainly taught her to keep her heart closed.
“Your father sends his love.”
The muscles in Liz’s neck and shoulders tightened so suddenly, so painfully she almost gasped aloud. Instead, she pressed her lips together for an instant and clenched her fingers around the cup. When she replied, it was years of practice that allowed her to keep her tone level.
“Tell him I said hello.”
It was the best that she could do right now. The wounds were still too fresh, her sense of betrayal still too painful for anything more.
“Eliza...”
But that was all her mother said, and the silence stretched between them, filled with the ghosts of past mistakes and family secrets too long hidden. Liz wasn’t surprised by her mother’s inability to articulate whatever it was she wanted to say. Heart-to-hearts and speaking about emotional subjects weren’t “done” in their family.
Things might be a damned sight better if they were but, after all these years, they wouldn’t know where to start.
She was gripping the phone so hard her fingers were beginning to ache, mirroring the pain in her suddenly roiling stomach. She didn’t have time for this. Not right now. Probably never.
“I have to get back inside, Mother. I’m still on duty. I’m glad you enjoyed your trip.”
“Thank you, dear.” Her mother spoke softly, almost wistfully, and Liz wondered if she, like her daughter, wished things could go back to the way they used