The Truth About Elyssa. Lorna MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
interview him on the evening news. But those days—those heady days—of life in the fast lane of television news were behind her.
Instead she wondered why he wanted to meet with her. She hoped he wasn’t planning to discontinue her shows. Her proposal to entertain had been approved only on a trial basis.
She mentally marshaled the reasons for continuing. She was doing the children some good. They enjoyed her shows, joined in and asked for more. She’d even had a phone call from a parent who said her child hadn’t stopped talking about Lulu.
And God knows, Elyssa thought, the shows were good for her, too. If Dr. Cameron wanted her out, he would have a fight on his hands. Circumstances had forced her to give up her career in TV news, but she hadn’t lost the guts and determination that had made her a success.
The nurse turned and hurried away, and Brett ushered Elyssa down the hall past a door with Pediatric Oncology and his name on it. He opened another door, this one unmarked, and led her through a maze of narrow corridors into his office.
A typical physician’s office—she’d seen enough of them recently to know—with medical journals on the bookshelf, framed certificates on the walls and a semilimp ivy plant on a small table. But she noticed a few touches she appreciated—a child’s table with drawing paper and crayons, picture books and a yellow beanbag chair in the corner with a rack of books for older children beside it.
Sunlight from unshaded windows flooded the room. The windows looked out over the emergency room entrance. Elyssa glanced outside just as two orderlies rushed a gurney up the ramp and into the building. “Some view.”
He followed her gaze, shrugged. “It’s temporary.”
That’s right, she remembered. He’d have a different office, presumably with a better view, when the new children’s cancer hospital opened. She remembered hearing that his mentor, Dr. Madigan, had lured him to Indianapolis to head the new facility. Being established here ahead of time would allow him input into the hospital’s development. Sharp man.
Brett gestured toward an armchair. Elyssa sat and he dropped onto the couch across from her and stretched out his long legs. “Elyssa Jarmon,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully. “I recognized your name on the proposal. Channel 9, right?”
“Yes.” Sharp man with a good memory.
“I was a big fan of yours. I used to look forward to seeing you on the news every night. Then I went to a medical conference in Denmark. When I came back, you’d vanished.” He looked at her speculatively.
She stiffened, hearing the unspoken, “What happened?” Because she’d once been a local celebrity, people thought her life was public property. Elyssa disagreed. Even if the person fishing for info had eyes that reminded her of crushed velvet and a voice like velvet, too.
“I made a career change.” That was as much as she cared to say. Quickly she changed the subject. “I noticed you watching the clown show. Did you enjoy it?”
“Very much. You’ve been entertaining the kids for a couple of weeks now. Today was your…third visit.”
“You know that?” Elyssa asked, astonished.
“You sound surprised.”
“I imagine for a department head, clown shows must be way down on the list of priorities.”
His lips curved in amusement. “When something matters, I do my homework. Clown shows matter.” He leaned forward. “Laughter’s important. It helps kids get well. I could show you some research—” Her raised brows stopped him. “Nah, you don’t want to read that dry stuff. Just take my word for it, you’re on the right track with these kids. Trace, for instance. Today’s the first time I heard him laugh.”
“I was beginning to wonder if he could.”
“It’ll be easier for him now. You’ve given him a start.”
“Thanks. I hope so.” Relieved, she settled back in the chair. He obviously didn’t intend to cut out the shows.
He looked at her thoughtfully, then asked, “Could you do more? I’d like to have you here twice a week, unless you have another job that takes your time.”
“No,” she said. “Clowning Around is a full-time business. I do birthday parties, clown classes, magic classes.”
His expressive brown eyes lit up. “Clown classes—that’s what I want. A way for you to work closely with a few kids at a time. Would you be interested?”
She stared out the window and thought about his suggestion. She’d like to say yes. She enjoyed working with these children; they tugged at her heart. But could she afford to take another afternoon away from her business? Turn down lucrative jobs?
She looked back to find his eyes on her. He studied her intently as if he wanted to learn everything about her. Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t look away. The room seemed to heat up around her.
Gracious, the man was sexy, with that lazy, relaxed veneer over a core of energy and intensity. She glanced surreptitiously at the ring finger of his left hand. It was bare.
Time was when she would have been delighted to think he might be available, might have hoped something would develop between them. But that time was past.
The accident had changed her. She wasn’t disfigured—her nose was just a tad crooked and only a crisscross of tiny scars marred her cheek—but her face wasn’t the flawless one that had graced thousands of television screens. And the scars inside were deeper. In the past sixteen months she’d absorbed some hard facts about male-female attraction. She was a fast learner; she didn’t need another lesson.
“What do you say?” Brett asked softly.
She realized she’d been staring at him in mute fascination for long seconds instead of answering his question. She told herself to douse the sparks of attraction she once might have welcomed and to concentrate on business. “I’ll do it,” she said.
“Great.” His smile made his eyes crinkle. “We’ll find some grant money to pay for your time. When can you start?”
She knew her schedule by heart. “Next Tuesday.”
“I’ll have Jean, my secretary, fax you a list of kids you should work with.”
They rose and faced each other, a good three feet apart. It felt much too close.
Ordering herself to be polite and impersonal, she put out her hand. His closed over it—warm, firm and much too personal. “I’d like to talk to you afterward,” he murmured. “Save half an hour, okay?”
“Okay.” Darn it, her voice sounded too breathy.
He walked her out, and Elyssa started down the hall. A small boy on crutches came toward her. His eyes brightened as he passed her, and she turned to watch him slowly make his way toward Dr. Cameron. “Hey, Doc, look at me,” he called and hobbled to the tall doctor’s side. Brett’s face softened.
As he squatted beside the youngster, Elyssa felt a tug on her sleeve. She pivoted and saw a solemn, freckle-faced girl of about eight. “I liked your show. Will you come back?”
“Sure will,” Elyssa said in her Lulu voice. “Next week.”
She waved at the now-smiling girl and started to walk on, then paused and turned, her eyes once again drawn to Brett Cameron.
He was headed toward his office, his back to her. As if he felt her gaze, he swung around, and their eyes locked. His lips curved into a smile of such potent male charm that Elyssa caught her breath. She felt a flutter in her stomach that traveled all the way down to her toes.
Brett raised a hand in farewell, and his mouth formed the word, “Tuesday.”
Elyssa nodded. “See you.”
Yes, that would be okay, as long as he didn’t see her.
That