Heartbreaker. Laurie Paige

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      Michael bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment.

      So, he wasn’t falsely modest about his skill, Susan noted. He was one of the top five heart surgeons in the U.S., per her own doctor. “Bold, innovative and determined” had been said of him in the article her mother referred to.

      “Susan,” Kate said, a plea in the word.

      Susan shook her head, warning her mother not to say anything to the arrogant heart doctor. Her own physician wanted her to go to Dr. O’Day for a consultation. So far, she’d steadfastly refused.

      “Susan,” her mother said, more sternly this time.

      “I’ll see someone,” she promised.

      Her mother wasn’t at all deterred by her tone. “This is like…like a nudge from God. You can’t ignore it.”

      Susan could and was determined to do so. “Don’t be sil—” She broke off, unable to be rude to her mother. “I’ll see a doctor soon.” But not this one.

      “This is a golden opportunity.”

      “Is there something I should know about?” the irritating doctor wanted to know.

      “Susan has a heart condition,” Kate answered before Susan could reply.

      “Ah, I see.”

      Susan felt his gaze on her, as incisive as a laser beam. “It’s nothing,” she said, and heard the stubborn denial in her tone. “I’m fine.”

      “You collapsed on the stage at your last performance,” her mother reminded her sternly.

      “I—I was tired.”

      “Collapsed?” he questioned. “I’ve seen you perform. You were magnificent.”

      Amazed, she stared at him. He looked sincere. Maybe he wasn’t such a baboon, after all, she conceded, since he obviously recognized her talent. She silently laughed at her own cockiness. She was as sure of her skills as the famous doctor seemed to be of his. “Thank you.”

      “Did you have any symptoms before you fainted?” he asked, lifting the glass of iced tea the waiter had placed before him, his attention focused and sharp. “Chest pain? Shortness of breath? Tingling in the left arm?”

      “I didn’t have a heart attack,” she informed him. “I checked out fine in that department.”

      “She was born with a congenital heart condition,” her mother supplied. “In a nutshell, her heart is too small for her body. It was little to begin with and stopped growing before she reached adolescence.”

      His gaze lasered into her again. “A child’s heart in a woman’s body. How old are you?” he demanded, a frown furrowing a deep groove between his eyes.

      “Twenty-seven,” she replied, then was annoyed with herself. His forceful manner caused her to answer before she had time to consider that her age was none of his business.

      “Hmm.” He spoke to her mother. “It’s a wonder she’s lasted this long.”

      “I beg your pardon,” Susan spoke up. “My health is none of your concern. I have a competent doctor of my own.”

      “Who?”

      She was alert to his probing ways now. She paused as if considering, then told him the man’s name, a very prominent internist in Houston.

      “He’s good,” the surgeon admitted. “Did he refer you to anyone for a checkup?”

      This was a question she didn’t want to answer. She tried to think how to do that without lying.

      “Susan?” her mother probed, her worry obvious.

      “He referred me to you, if you must know.” She raised her eyebrows loftily. “I haven’t had time to make an appointment.”

      “Why are you determined to stay in denial about this?” he asked softly. “It isn’t your fault.”

      “I know that. Other than that one little dizzy spell, I’ve been fine. I just overdid it that week.”

      “Could you make time to see her?” Kate asked.

      “Mother, I’m sure Dr. O’Day doesn’t carry around an appointment book with him. His office would handle that.”

      “Michael,” he told her almost sternly. “My name is Michael.”

      “To your patients?” she challenged.

      Her mocking tone didn’t seem to bother him at all. He simply nodded, his eyes studying her again. He made her uncomfortable, as if he could see all her doubts, her weaknesses, her furious questioning of God that she should have to give up the only thing in her life.

      No. She wouldn’t give up dancing. Never! She would, quite literally, rather be dead.

      “I’m heading back to Houston Monday morning. I could see you that afternoon, get an idea of how serious a problem you have.” He leaned close and looked her in the eye. “Isn’t it better to know the truth? Then you could deal with a certainty rather than an unfounded fear.”

      She glanced at her mother, not wanting to upset her. “I’m not afraid. I’ve never been afraid of anything.”

      He leaned back in the chair. She noticed his hands when he lifted his glass. They were incredible, the fingers long and very slender, like a world-renowned pianist’s hands, dexterous, capable of performing minute movements very fast and accurately.

      She thought of those hands on her—and not in a medical context. Her heart suddenly pumped hard, and for a second, she was frightened. For a second, she thought of accepting his offer to see her.

      But only for a second, then reason reasserted itself. She’d lived for twenty-seven years with her heart doing everything she demanded of it. She was fine, just fine.

      “If you want a ride back to Houston, be at the airport Monday at nine.”

      “Oh, how nice,” her mother cooed, fawning over the man. “Isn’t that convenient?”

      “Very,” Susan agreed, with absolutely no intention of accepting either the ride or the examination.

      His lazy smile said he knew every idea that flitted through her head. She understood him, too. He thought she was a silly, stubborn female refusing to face facts.

      It would be a cold day in you-know-where before she’d get within a mile of him, his plane or his office.

      “Excuse me,” her mother said. “I see a friend.”

      Susan shifted warily at being left alone with him.

      “Don’t worry. I’m not the big-bad-wolf type,” he murmured, again reading her accurately.

      She forced herself to relax. She’d played these СКАЧАТЬ