Dr. Mom And The Millionaire

Alex opened her mouth, only to close it again. Her first thought was that he was just being his usual headstrong self and wanted the meeting to take place on his terms. Yet, seeing his brow furrow with strain as he reached to knead a spot above his brace, it didn’t seem to be ego or pride prodding him. When she’d explained the seriousness of his injury, how it was possible that, given the worst scenario, he could lose his leg—or his life—he’d scarcely blinked. What she saw in him now, was the anxiety she would have expected then.

That made no sense at all to her. But she’d seen enough fear in patients to recognize it all too easily. She just couldn’t imagine him being afraid of anything. Unless, she thought, caught short by the idea, he was afraid that if his brothers saw him now, they would accept him only out of pity. Or, maybe, he was afraid they wouldn’t accept him if he appeared weak. Not that they were likely to think such a thing with his reputation, she thought—then remembered that his brothers had no idea who he was. They’d been expecting Andrew Malone. Not Chase Harrington.

Conscious of how his jaw tightened when he leaned back, the feeling she’d had when she’d left him in recovery washed over her again. She remembered how he’d struck her then as being so very alone. Only now she had a strange sense that being alone wasn’t his choice. It was simply the only way he knew how to be.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” she agreed, shaking off the disturbing thought. “But there is something I can do, if it will help. I can’t release you any sooner, but I can get you out of this room. For a while, anyway.”

His glance shifted to her, curious and intent.

“I’m sure it won’t do for you to meet in Ryan’s office. That’s his turf,” she added, letting him know she had a few observational powers of her own. “But I can find you an empty meeting room. You’ll have to be in a wheelchair, and you’ll still be hooked up to an IV,” she cautioned, “but your nurse can help you into your street clothes.”

She tipped her head, trying to think of what she’d overlooked. Trying mostly to ignore the way her stomach fluttered when his attention lingered on her mouth before settling on her eyes. “I can set up the meeting for you myself.”

He didn’t even try to hide his skepticism. It narrowed his gaze, seeped into his voice. “Why do you want to help me with this?”

“Because you’re my patient,” she told him, unable to imagine why he looked so suspicious. “And your brothers are my friends. I think you should know they want to meet you as badly as you want to meet them. And I know you do,” she informed him easily. “You wouldn’t have come this far if you didn’t.”

“I’d rather wait until I’m on my feet before I met them. It would just be…easier. I don’t have any clothes right now, anyway. They cut off what I was wearing in Emergency and I have no idea what happened to my travel bag.”

The words rang more of excuse than reason. He had to know that.

“It’s your call,” she conceded. “Just let me know if you change your mind. If you like, I can give you a number where I can always be reached.”

Looking as if he were complying only because it was easier than not, he nudged the business card on the tray-table toward her. It had landed face down, so she wrote her pager number on the back and dropped his pen beside it.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, because the knowledge might make it easier for him, “all that matters to them is that you’re family.”

He looked at her as if he hadn’t a clue what difference that should make. He didn’t ask, either. When ten seconds ticked by and he hadn’t said a word, she stepped back from the bed. She had no problem helping people when they really needed or wanted it. The one thing she’d learned not to do was step in where she wasn’t welcome. She’d done what she could for Ryan and Tanner. And for Chase. But Chase clearly preferred to handle the matter on his own.

The only thing he’d asked of her was why she would want to help him in the first place. He’d looked at her as if she had some angle; as if he couldn’t believe she wanted to help him simply because he needed it.

“I should get back.”

“Yeah. You probably should.”

There were people waiting for her. Telling him she’d see him tomorrow, telling herself there truly was nothing more she could do, she turned away.

She was halfway across the room when she heard him murmur, “By the way, I understand it was yesterday, but happy birthday.”

He watched her pause by the door. Surprise, then a smile moved over her face. That smile was as gentle as a spring rain and just as inviting.

“Thanks,” she replied, and slipped out before he could admit just how much he wished she’d stayed.

She must have thought he wanted his privacy. The door closed behind her, leaving him isolated with the thoughts that had him feeling as if he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

He hated the thoughts churning inside him, hated the sense of uncertainty that came with them. It hadn’t been so bad when he could numb himself with the anesthetic of work. As long as he was pushing himself mentally or physically, he was fine. When he wanted to avoid the very sort of thoughts plaguing him now, he simply switched into a higher gear, demanding more of himself and, by extension, everyone around him. He’d even managed to escape for a few hours that day, hassling with the fax and working on his contracts. Now, grounded, and with his contracts finished, he had no idea how to escape.