NYC Angels: The Wallflower’s Secret. Susan Carlisle

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      Ryan compressed his mouth. Matherson was making a veiled reference to the fact that he hadn’t been offered the head of neurosurgery position and that his co-operation would look good on his CV. By rights the department head job should have been his. Instead, they’d hired Alex Rodriguez.

      Drawing his lips into a thin line, Ryan looked directly at Matherson for a long moment. The hospital pencil-pusher did have the good grace to lower his eyes. If going along with this ridiculous time-consuming coordinated patient care idea would make him look good on paper to the powers that be, then he’d make some form of an effort. He’d at least give it lip service, but based on his experience it would be a waste of time. Shrugging a shoulder, he said, “Okay.” He looked at Ms. Edwards. “I guess we’re a team, then.”

      Ms. Edwards angled her head, mistrust written all over her face. Was she questioning his motives? Would she let him get away with doing as little as possible? Maybe there was more to this unassuming woman than he’d originally supposed. If nothing else, it would be a challenge to see if he could get her to smile. Find out if he could make that sadness in her eyes disappear.

      “So it’s settled.” Matherson sounded far more cheerful than Ryan felt. “Then I’ll let you two get started.”

      Lucy glanced at the self-absorbed doctor walking half a pace ahead of her up the hall. It had been hard enough to leave her entire life behind to start a new job in an unfamiliar city but being forced to work with a person who resented her being foisted on him made it almost impossible. Left no choice, she had to make this partnership work somehow.

      Matherson, with the syrupy smile still on his face, had inquired if the good doctor was going back up to the neuro floor. When he said he was, Matherson had the nerve to ask him to show her the way. She’d been horribly embarrassed that Matherson had relegated this surgeon to a tour guide but didn’t know a graceful way to say she’d find her own way.

      As they left the HR department, Dr. O’Doherty held the door for her to go ahead of him. Someone had at least instilled manners in the self-absorbed man. She’d seen little else to impress her. That wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t failed to notice his wide shoulders, piercing blue eyes and height. Even now his long legs were eating up the well-worn tile floor beneath them. Not often did she find a man that she couldn’t meet almost eye to eye.

      Gripping her purse, Lucy found herself tagging along behind him. With each step she became more irritated with his attitude. He walked as if he couldn’t leave the HR or her quickly enough. Regardless, she appreciated him leading the way as they made one turn then another, past another bank of elevators. She had no idea where she was in the vast hospital.

      That morning when she’d stood across the street in Central Park, facing the front entrance of Angel’s, and had looked up, she hadn’t begun to count the number of floors. The building spread across an entire block. To say she’d been intimidated would have been an understatement. Still, there had been something about the mixture of old and new architecture that had appealed to her. If nothing else, the bright yellow and red awning leading to the front door had made her think the place had warmth.

      Being employed by a large hospital wasn’t new to her. Most children’s hospitals were attached to a larger teaching hospital that was affiliated with a big university. But compared to Angel’s, those she’d worked in were dwarfs in size. She liked the nickname Angel’s. Glancing at the man beside her, she decided he didn’t act very angelic or hospitable.

      Dr. O’Doherty finally stopped in front of a set of elevators and pushed the ‘up’ button.

      Her job required her to read people. Dr. O’Doherty’s rigid stance and unyielding demeanor said he wasn’t pleased with having to answer to the HR department and now to her in a lesser way. She wasn’t surprised. Typical surgeon. Highly typical neurosurgeon. Confident, in control and with minds closed to anyone’s ideas but their own. Still, she had a job to do, and that meant co-operating with this guy. She had no choice but to make it work.

      Clearing her throat, she said, “I understand this arrangement isn’t really your idea of a good plan.”

      He moved to face her. “No, it isn’t.”

      His displeasure didn’t encourage her. If this was the way he acted over a simple request, she couldn’t imagine his reaction to a serious issue. She was well acquainted with life-altering experiences. She wasn’t going to waste her energy getting upset over anything as mundane as being partnered with the egotistical doctor.

      “I’d like to make my end of it as painless as possible for both of us.”

      The elevator arrived, putting their conversation on hold. The doors opened and they stepped into an already crowded car. Dr. O’Doherty’s solid frame brushed hers as they turned to face the front of the elevator. A prickle of awareness spread through her body.

      On the ride upward, they stood close enough that the heat of his body warmed her down one side. It was the first time in months that the Arctic cold buried deep within her had melted even for a second. The numbness returned the moment the elevator doors opened and he moved away. She stepped out behind him, then paused.

      He stopped and looked at her. “Something wrong?”

      “No, I’m just always amazed at how completely different patients’ areas are from the business parts of the hospital. These bright yellow walls are like coming into sunshine after being in gloom.”

      “I’ve never noticed.”

      She wasn’t surprised.

      “Can you get to your office from here?”

      She glanced around, recognizing a framed picture of a child’s artwork on the wall. “I know where I am now.” He turned to leave and she asked, “So how’re we going to handle this coordinated care plan, Dr. O’Doherty?”

      Stopping, he turned back to her. “I’m going about it like I always have. Check the charts, Ms. Edwards.”

      “Mr. Matherson made it clear that wouldn’t do. You might not like the idea but I expect you to do your part. Your patients are now mine also. I’m determined to give them the best care possible.”

      Dr. O’Doherty stepped a pace closer, leaned forward and pierced her with a penetrating blue stare. “And you don’t think that’s what I do?”

      “I’m sure you’re a more than capable surgeon, but there’s always room for improvement where patient care outside the OR is concerned.”

      “Ms. Edwards, are you questioning my ability to be professional?”

      She met his look squarely. “No, but I’ll not let you dismiss me or my abilities either. I was approached by this hospital to do a job so someone must have thought I had something to offer the hospital and the neuro department in particular. I expect you to at least recognize that.”

      His attention remained on her long enough that her knees started to shake. Had she stepped over the line? With a huff, he said, “I do rounds at five. Promptly.” With a curt turn he went down the hall as if he’d spent all the time he deemed necessary on her.

      Lucy passed a number of patient rooms, rounded the large corner nurses’ station and dodged a child in a wagon with a parent pulling it. Her heart tugged. Every small child she saw made her think of Emily. With relief, she finally reached the hall her office was on. Maybe going back to work СКАЧАТЬ