by Donna Fasano
And that gaze of his… it always seemed to be watching her now. Following her when she least expected. The intensity in his eyes was unnerving. The expression in them never the same. He’d look intrigued one moment—although she couldn’t fathom what on earth he’d have to feel intrigued about—the next he’d look frustrated, and the next he’d actually seem annoyed. Then there were those times when she hadn’t been able to tell what he was thinking, his expression would be so unfathomable.
She wished he hadn’t shown up on her doorstep. She wished he hadn’t made her a part of his silly, impossible plan.
No, what she really wished was that she’d never made that remark about him solving his problems by making himself unavailable to the women who so blatantly wanted him. This was her fault.
Why was it, she wondered, that she always seemed to be her own worse enemy?
Sighing, she continued the task of refilling the supply cabinet, her thoughts in bedlam. She’d told him the truth when she’d said he had no idea what he’d be getting involved with her. He’d put himself and his career in enough peril by just helping her get away from Rodney and his family in California—
“Lyssa!”
Dr. Dakota’s sharp tone nearly made her jump out of her skin and boxes of bandages flew, helter-skelter, tumbling onto the floor. She didn’t just rush, she ran down the hallway. He was coming out of the exam room at the very end of the hallway just as she arrived on the scene, his handsome face drawn tight.
“Take care of that,” he barked.
Fire smoldered in his eyes as he stormed away toward his office. And was that a touch of accusation simmering in his gaze? She slipped into the exam room.
The sight that met her eyes had her gulping back a silent gasp of shock. Luckily, the more professional side of her was able to contain the knee-jerk reaction. Quickly, though, she gathered herself together, her mind working overtime about how to deal with this shameful situation in a dignified manner.
Patsy Hubert, a fairly new patient in her mid-twenties, lay sprawled out on the exam table in the skimpiest and most provocative underwear Lyssa had ever seen. The woman was reaching for the T-shirt she’d tossed onto a nearby chair.
Lyssa turned her back, giving the patient a bit of privacy to dress. She spent several seconds focusing on the laptop, clicking the key that would save the electronic medical file, but her annoyance built with every second.
“Ms. Hubert,” Lyssa said, unable to quell her tongue any longer, “I thought you came in to see the doctor about a sprained ankle?”
“I did.”
Turning around, the closed laptop tucked under her arm, Lyssa pinned the woman with a sharp look. “Can you tell me why you felt it necessary to undress?”
The woman’s eyes refused to meet hers. “W-well… I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought maybe Dakota would like to—”
“Dr. Makwa,” Lyssa interrupted rudely, incensed that the woman referred to her boss in so intimate a fashion, “sees ladies’ undergarments all day long.” No matter how hard Lyssa tried, she couldn’t keep the anger out of her tone. She was livid on Dakota’s behalf… because… well, just because the patient’s intentions were so utterly and obnoxiously obvious. Dakota’s spiritual beliefs might keep him from putting this woman in her place, but Lyssa didn’t suffer from that problem. Not at all.
“Did you really think he’d be impressed with your black lace thong?” She raised one eyebrow and let the corner of her mouth twist with the derision that raced through her veins like acid.
Patsy swung her long, shapely legs over the side of the exam table and shimmied into her formfitting trousers.
“I came here,” the woman said, her haughtiness in direct contradiction to the evident embarrassment reddening her face, “to see Dr. Makwa. Not to get a lecture from Nurse Nancy.”
“Lyssa,” she corrected. “My name is Lyssa.”
Oh, there was plenty more Lyssa would have liked to say, but she dared not. It wasn’t her intention to lose any patients for Dr. Dakota’s practice. Her only purpose was to stand up for him when he seemed so unwilling to do so for himself.
Slipping down from the table, Patsy then wiggled first one foot and then the other into her fashionable wedged sandals.
“Looks to me as if your ankle is just fine,” Lyssa observed. “No redness. No swelling. And you obviously have full range of motion with it.”
The young woman offered her a smile that was as fake as a three-dollar bill.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
Restraining the tirade that was going on inside her was difficult, but Lyssa succeeded. Finally, she said, “There won’t be a charge for today.”
She realized that she’d said that several times this week alone.
“Good,” Patsy quipped, “because he spent less about five seconds in here. He didn’t even look at my ankle.”
The woman reached for her purse.
“Ms. Hubert—” Lyssa kept her gaze steady and level “—I’m sure Dr. Makwa would appreciate it in the future if you didn’t waste his time. We have patients with legitimate ailments who are having trouble getting appointments.”
The woman glared at her hard before jerking open the door sauntering from the room.
Lyssa sighed and went to Dr. Dakota’s office and knocked.
“Come in.”
The chair behind his desk was empty. Movement in the periphery of her vision had her head swiveling.
He looked angry as a bear. And just as wild.
Lord above, he was a sight to behold as he stood by the window. His green eyes flashed with fury, his whole body taut with it, in fact. Lyssa had to garner all her nerve to simply enter the office and close the door behind her.
“She’s gone,” she announced. “Her ankle is fine, as I’m sure you saw.”
Without looking at her, he said, “I saw more than I ever wanted to.”
She moistened her dry lips, not quite knowing how to respond. Meaning only to calm him, she offered, “I suggested that she not waste your time in the future.”
He looked as if he was about to implode. His agitated gaze was lighting on this and that, and Lyssa knew he wasn’t seeing a thing. Finally, he reared to face her.
“That woman was all but naked!”
Distress was too mild a word to describe his state.
“Why weren’t you in there with me? If patients disrobe, I need an assistant. This holds especially true with female patients these days. You know that.”
The censure that dripped from his question took Lyssa aback.
“I’m sorry. She was seeing you for a twisted ankle. I didn’t think you’d need me. There’s only one of me around here and enough tasks for three people.” Lyssa hated feeling the need to explain her actions. She couldn’t bear feeling guilty for something she hadn’t foreseen. She’d had enough of that in her past. “I assure you, Dr. Dakota, the patient was fully clothed when I came to fetch you. How was I to know she planned to give you a lingerie fashion show?”
In Lyssa’s mind, the doctor’s attack was unfair; however, her explanation hadn’t seemed to abate his anger in the least.
He couldn’t honestly hold her accountable for this fiasco, she realized suddenly. And if she thought back over the past few seconds, he hadn’t actually blamed her for what happened. But, still, the pent-up fury in his gaze unsettled her. He was merely venting his frustration, she had to remember. Hadn’t he told her that his Native American upbringing kept him from conveying his feelings in a way that might humiliate or offend another?
Seconds passed and Dr. Dakota’s agitation continued to bubble like a pot of water on a heating element.
“This cannot go on,” he said, the words fairly bursting from him. “My professional reputation could be in jeopardy. If one of those women were to become disgruntled or peeved by the fact that I’m not responding to her… her… feminine wiles, why, who knows what she might say, or what kind of accusations she might invent, or what could happen if�
��”
He just shook his head as the rest of his thought withered away, his hand worrying over his jaw.
“It’s true,” she found herself agreeing. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. There can be a lot of truth in that. I get it.”
“I could find myself in terrible trouble.” He sighed, and then he leveled his gaze on her.
What she saw there wasn’t blame, really. More an expression of hurt. A mild reproach that told Lyssa he felt she could have helped him out of this days ago if she had chosen to… but she hadn’t.
He hadn’t uttered those words. He hadn’t had to. It was all right there. In his wounded countenance.
“Dr. Dakota, I have good, solid reasons for not accepting your plan,” she felt compelled to express. “You have to believe me.”
“Oh?” His dark eyebrows rose a fraction. “And, tell me, Lyssa, are your reasons as good and as solid as the reasons I have for needing to stay away from those women who seem hell-bent on hunting me down and snaring me like I’m some kind of animal in the woods?”
In that instant she realized she couldn’t answer his question. Because he hadn’t explained his reasons to her. But now she knew without a doubt he intended to.
“Those women don’t know me,” he said. “They have no idea what I think or who I am. They might feel some kind of shallow sexual attraction, but that’s all they feel. They want a trophy, Lyssa. And I’ve been there. I’ve done that. And I’ll be damned if I’m getting trapped into that again.”
Lyssa was relieved that she’d closed the door of the office. Dakota didn’t need anyone overhearing his tirade, although as worked up as he was at the moment, she doubted he cared one way or the other.
“It’s not a pretty story,” he told her. “I’ve been used. By a woman I loved. By a woman I thought loved me. Rose Marie Fletcher was the chief of surgery. The youngest woman to make chief at the small university hospital in Chicago where I studied. She was ambitious.” His long hair fell over his shoulder when he turned his head. Softly, he added, “If only I’d caught on to the magnitude of her ambition, I may have saved myself some pain.”
He paused a moment, and Lyssa saw that he didn’t seem to be in this office any longer. He was someplace else. Someplace in the past.
“I was the only Native American in my graduating class,” he continued. “That should have been a clue, I guess. But it wasn’t one I picked up on.” He drew his top lip between his teeth for a second, looking at a spot on the carpet between his feet. “You see, Rose Marie was beautiful. And she was smart. She was older than I was by nearly twelve years. But that hadn’t mattered to me. I’d thought we were in love.”
With unreserved disbelief, he murmured, “I changed every hope and dream I’d ever had for that woman.”
He looked tired, as if pulling this memory up from the depths of his mind exhausted him. He leaned against his desk, hitching one hip onto the top of it. As for herself, she couldn’t seem to move a muscle, so spellbound was she by his explanation.
“All I ever wanted to do was become a doctor and practice medicine here on the rez. Help the people of my tribe, my family, live healthy lives. But I turned away from that, turned away from the needs of the people on the rez because Rose Marie pushed and maneuvered and manipulated until her desire of our practicing together at some huge, prestigious institution somehow became my desire too.”
The self-reproach he leveled on himself was more than Lyssa could bear. Without thinking, she whispered, “You loved her. You were trying to make her happy. That’s what couples who love each other do.”
“She didn’t love me,” he said plainly. “Oh, she married me. She took my name and used it for all it was worth. But her plans had nothing whatsoever to do with love.”
Bewilderment knit Lyssa’s forehead into a deep frown that she didn’t bother to hide.
“One day,” he said, “I overheard her bragging to a group of her peers. She’d accepted a phenomenal job offer… and she credited the real live Indian she’d caught with acquiring it. The man whose minority status opened doors for her that wouldn’t normally be opened.”
Lyssa sucked in a slow, deep breath. “Your wife used affirmative action to procure a position for herself? Even though she wasn’t a minority? But… how?”
“Hospitals often hire husband-wife teams to practice. Being married to a Native American—”
“Hoisted her up the ladder of success,” Lyssa sadly finished for him.
He was silent, his gaze steady.
Finally, he said, “I was devastated, Lyssa. I discovered that my wife was cold and calculating. The woman I loved was so compelled to control her own destiny that she’d use whatever means were at hand to get her where she wanted to go.”
“Oh, Dakota,” Lyssa breathed, “I’m so sorry.”
The intimate manner in which she’d addressed her boss brought her up short. But judging from his preoccupation with the past, she doubted he’d even heard her. Then he lifted his chin and she saw gratitude shining in his eyes.
His jaw tightened. “What makes the situation even worse is that my mother had the same kind of deceitful character.”
Lyssa’s body tensed. What on earth had his mother done to bring about that kind of judgment from her son? But now wasn’t the time to ask him to elaborate.
“I left Rose Marie,” he told Lyssa. “Returned to Misty Glen just last year. I’ve been practicing here ever since… trying to build my original dream.”
Touched by Dakota’s story of betrayal, Lyssa moved across the room and positioned herself next to him, the desktop supporting her weight too. Their bodies weren’t touching, but she was close enough, she felt, to offer him some sense of comfort.
“It’s a nice dream,” she said, hoping to encourage him. “Your practice is growing every day. Patients are coming, not just from the reservation, but also from nearby towns, to see you.”
“Yes, but it’s like a house of cards, Lyssa. One good puff of air—in the form of a scandal or malicious gossip or an indecent accusation—and it’ll all come tumbling down.” His eyes grew intense as he cast her a sidelong glance. He swallowed. His tone became as supple as velvet as he said, “But you could help me, Lyssa.”
She groaned. “You’re not going to start talking marriage again, are you? But what about love, Dr. Dakota? What about participating in a fulfilling lifelong relationship? You could have that, you know.”
There was disdain in his tone as he said, “Believe me. Those things are highly overrated. I’m sure you’ve come to the same conclusion.”
Lyssa sighed, smoothing restless fingers over her hair. Finally, she let her palm fall to slap her thigh. “You know I’m not using my married name at the moment.”
“I’ve suspected it.”
“Palmer is my grandmother’s maiden name.”
He just nodded.
“I’m telling you,” she stressed, “there are good reasons why I shouldn’t marry you.”
“And I ask you again,” he said, “can they match mine for needing to get married? My career could be on the line. Everything I’m working toward could be gone in a flash. You said it yourself, hell hath no fury…” He let the rest of his thought fade.
Her shoulders drooped. “Dr. Dakota, I don’t want you any more involved in my life than you already are. My ex…” Anxiety had her shaking her head. “He comes from a powerful family. If he found out that Tori took me in, he’d have her B&B closed down. He could do it.”
She lifted her hand. “And you? If he discovered that you gave me a job… if he found out that you helped me in any way, well, let’s just say I’ve known what kind of trouble he can cause. I refuse to let him hurt you.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about me?”
The calm strength emanating from Dakota was more than a little impressive. Lyssa found herself wanting to soak it in, leach some of it from him. He seemed so self-assured and she loved that about him. She’d have liked to bare her soul to hi
m, to tell him everything about her past, everything about her wretched ex-husband. Entrust him with every miserable mistake she’d made. But there was a small, frightened voice in her head that warned her against fully revealing herself to anyone. She’d been too hurt in the past.
“He could do more damage to your reputation than any of those predatory women you’re worried about.” Yet, even as she spoke the words, she could feel her resolve weakening. “Just by hiring me, you’re in danger of his retaliation. If we were to—”
He pushed himself from the desk and he took her hands in his. “Like I said… let me worry about me.” His expression sobered. “Is it possible, Lyssa, that all this power you think your ex has is in your mind? No one man can have that much authority over others. Not unless they allow it.”
If anyone else had said those words, they might have sounded insulting. But Dakota hadn’t meant them to harm. Only to enlighten. She realized that immediately.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
But as she thought about her life back in California, as she thought about all the guilt she’d been made to shoulder, as she thought about Rodney and how childish and mean-spirited he had been, how determined he was to possess, to control, and how willing she’d been to be possessed and controlled…
Dark clouds gathered, and Lyssa shoved her way out of them.
“Besides,” Dakota said, “if your ex-husband is as bad as you say, maybe what you need is a warrior—”
Then he did the most extraordinary thing. He placed the flat of his hand gently and protectively against her rounded tummy.
“Maybe what you both need is someone who’ll stand by you,” he said, his promise whisper soft, “through anything.”
Hot tears welled up to scorch her eyeballs and she thought her heart would melt.
At first, she’d thought the situation he wanted to escape was silly; there would always be man-hungry women looking to capture a mate. But after hearing Dakota’s tale of betrayal, she could understand why he wanted to steer clear of women who wanted him for the wrong reasons. However, in order to procure that protection for himself, he was willing to promise to stand by her, to defend her and her baby from an enemy he didn’t even know. An enemy she knew to be formidable, even though Dakota might not believe it.
