Doctor Love

Chapter 12

KATE’S POV

The autumn air bit through my thin jacket as I handed the cabbie a twenty. "Keep the change," I said, pulling my bag higher on my shoulder.

"Thanks, doc. Hope your day's better than yesterday."

If only he knew. I forced a smile and turned toward the hospital entrance just as the roar of an engine made me jump. A sleek silver Porsche swerved dangerously close to the curb where I stood, kicking up leaves in its wake. Through the tinted window, I caught a glimpse of David's face, his smug grin visible even at speed.

As he passed, he actually stuck his tongue out at me—like a five-year-old on a playground rather than a supposedly professional physician.

"Real mature!" I shouted after him, though the growl of his engine had already drowned out my voice.

I smoothed down my blouse and strode through the automatic doors with as much dignity as I could muster. Yesterday's locker room disaster had replayed in my dreams all night—the steam, David's bare chest, the moment when his lips had almost touched mine. I'd woken up tangled in sweaty sheets, angry at my subconscious for its betrayal.

"Well, well, look who decided to dress like an actual doctor today," Rita called from behind the reception desk, eyeing my outfit with exaggerated approval.

I kept walking, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. After the locker room prank, she was lucky I didn't report her to HR.

"Nice skirt!" she persisted. "Better than yesterday's frumpy thing. Maybe Dr. Villa will notice you now!"

My cheeks burned but I didn't break stride. Let her think she was getting to me. I had actual patients to worry about, people whose lives depended on me keeping my focus.

The locker room door loomed ahead, and I hesitated, flashbacks of yesterday's encounter making my pulse quicken. Before entering, I double-checked the sign. Women's Locker Room. No taped-on papers, no obvious tampering. Still, I pushed the door open cautiously, peering inside to make sure it was empty.

Relief washed over me at the sight of the deserted room. I changed quickly into my scrubs and white coat, pinning my ID badge to my lapel. Dr. Kate Stanley, M.D. At least that much of my identity was solid, even if everything else felt like shifting sand beneath my feet.

My stomach growled, reminding me I'd skipped breakfast in my rush to leave the apartment. Coffee. I needed coffee if I was going to make it through another day of David's mind games and Rita's petty jabs.

The doctors' lounge was mercifully quiet when I entered. I made a beeline for the coffee machine, pouring myself a generous cup of the dark, aromatic liquid. The first sip hit my system like a jolt of electricity, warming me from the inside out. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment of peace.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The harsh sound of my pager shattered the silence. I nearly dropped my mug as I fumbled to check the display.

CODE BLUE - CARDIAC ARREST - ROOM 5

Coffee forgotten, I sprinted down the hallway, dodging nurses and visitors. A cardiac arrest. My mind raced through protocols, medications, procedures. How long had the patient been down? Was the crash team already there?

I burst through the door of Room 5, breathless.

"Surprise!" Frank Williams stood beside his hospital bed, very much alive and cardiac arrest-free, holding a bouquet of vibrant wildflowers. His weathered face split into a wide grin.

I froze, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. "What...?"

"Sorry about the pager trick, doc," Frank said, looking anything but sorry. "How else would I make you come see me? You doctors are always so busy."

"Frank!" I pressed a hand to my racing heart. "You can't just—that's for actual emergencies! I thought you were dying!"

His smile dimmed slightly. "Aw, I didn't mean to scare you that bad. Just wanted to see you before they spring me from this place."

I let out a long breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves. "You're being discharged today?"

"Yep! Dr. Bennett signed the papers this morning. Said my ticker's good as new, thanks to you." He thrust the flowers toward me. "These are for you. Nothing fancy, picked 'em from my own garden."

Despite my annoyance, I found myself softening. "They're beautiful, Frank. But you really shouldn't have."

"That's not all." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "This is to really say thank you."

"Frank, the flowers are more than enough—"

"Open it," he insisted, pressing the box into my hands.

Reluctantly, I flipped open the lid. Nestled on a bed of satin was an antique silver pendant, an intricate Celtic knot design with a small blue stone at its center. It was stunning, and looked incredibly expensive.

"I can't accept this," I said, trying to hand it back. "It's too much."

"Nonsense." Frank waved away my protest. "You saved my life, doc. If not for you recognizing that weird thing of mine, I'd be six feet under instead of going home."

"I was just doing my job."

"Well, your job kept me alive." His voice softened.

My throat tightened. "Frank..."

"Please," he said, taking my free hand in his weathered one. "It would mean a lot to me."

Before I could respond, he lifted my hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. "Besides, it matches your eyes."

I felt myself wavering. The pendant was gorgeous. "Are you sure?”

He nodded and took the box back and carefully removed the pendant. "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, I nodded.

Frank moved behind me, his fingers surprisingly nimble as he draped the chain around my neck. The pendant settled just below my collarbone, the silver cool against my skin.

"Perfect," he said, stepping back to admire the effect. "Makes those blue eyes of yours pop."

I touched the pendant, oddly moved by the gesture. "Thank you, Frank.”

He paused, then continued in a rush, "I was thinking something, why don't we grab dinner sometime? My treat, of course."

I blinked, not sure I'd heard him correctly. "Dinner?"

Frank's cheeks reddened beneath his silver stubble. "Yeah, you know. Like a date?”

His earnest expression was so endearing I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Frank was younger than me. From his data, he was clocking 20 this year and I was already 23. Besides, it was unprofessional and unethical to date a patient.

"I mean, if you're not seeing anyone..." He adjusted the collar of his shirt nervously. "We could start with coffee if you prefer. No pressure."

My hand was still on the pendant, this gift I now realized might have strings attached. Before I could formulate a gentle rejection, Frank leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"So what do you say, doc? Can we date?"