Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  “Hey, Matthew. Mind if I join you? I brought some snacks.”

  Catherine’s fists clenched around the magazine as Matty eagerly pointed to the empty seat beside her. She swallowed any comment she might have made, wondering why the hockey player seemed to rub her the wrong way and knowing she couldn’t spoil this night for Matty. Reluctantly burying her pride and anxiety, she rose and moved over one seat before Nathan could maneuver his long legs around the wheelchair.

  He sat between them and immediately turned to her, his crooked smile even wider as he offered her a soda. She looked at the paper cup then shook her head, refusing even as she realized how thirsty she was. Nathan looked at her a second longer, his smile losing some of its wattage before he shrugged and turned his attention to Matty.

  “So what do you think of the game? Are the seats okay?”

  “They’re awesome! Thanks, Mr. Conners. And thanks for this, too. It’s cool.” Matty fingered the jersey that hung on him.

  “Nathan. Remember I said you could call me Nathan.”

  Catherine watched as the two quickly became engaged in animated conversation and she suddenly felt like the proverbial fifth wheel, a ridiculous notion that didn’t sit well with her. The feeling grew in direct proportion with Matty’s excitement, and she again forced herself to stay quiet. No matter what she thought, Matty seemed to truly like the obtuse man and there was no way she would ruin this for him.

  She leaned back and pretended to read the crumpled magazine while studying Nathan from the corner of her eye. Once again she found herself eyeing his legs, long and obviously muscular even in the black dress slacks he wore. He leaned toward Matty, listening attentively. She couldn’t hear the words because of the noise from the crowd, but she saw that crooked smile grow and had no trouble hearing the deep chuckle that rumbled from his broad chest. The sound sent a flash of warmth through her, which only irritated her more.

  The shrill horn that signaled another score interrupted their conversation, and Nathan let out a cheer for his teammates as music echoed in the arena. Catherine noticed that he remained seated with Matthew when the crowd surged to its feet, and she couldn’t stop the sudden warming in her heart at the gesture.

  Oh, stop it! She shouldn’t let herself feel anything warm toward this complete stranger who had suddenly pushed himself into their lives. The thought sped through her mind even as she tried to force it away. Who said anything about him pushing his way into their lives? Not even close. He just happened to be a patient of Brian’s who suffered from a pang of guilt and gave up a set of tickets to ease his conscience. Nothing less, certainly nothing more. After tonight, they would never see him again.

  Nathan laughed at something Matty said, and Catherine wondered why she felt a tinge of regret at her last thought.

  Stop it! she chided herself again and squirmed in the seat, trying to get comfortable and pretend she wasn’t bothered. The man on her right was also squirming and it took a few minutes before she realized he was deliberately pushing against her to get her attention. She turned to him, knowing there was a frown on her face and not caring. She hoped it would make him sit still.

  “Lady, can you ask Nathan to sign this?”

  Catherine looked down at the souvenir Banners pennant and black marker the man had thrust into her hand and rolled her eyes. She leaned over and nudged Nathan in the shoulder, pushing him harder than was necessary. He turned to her, those tawny eyes widened in shock as he rubbed at the spot she had touched.

  “Here. He wants you to sign this.” She motioned to the man beside her and nearly threw the flag in Nathan’s lap, then sighed loudly as he took it and leaned across her to speak to the man. He was so close that she could smell the aftershave he wore, a light scent of something outdoorsy mingled with the clean aroma of soap.

  Catherine held her breath. She refused to be drawn in even as her eyes swept over his features, from his strong jaw to the soft hair that swept just below the collar of his sports coat, to the rounded curve of his ear. She wondered suddenly if the spot on his neck below his ear was as sensitive as it looked. He was close enough that all she had to do was lean slightly forward before her lips —

  She sat bolt upright, mortified at the thoughts running through her mind. “This is ridiculous!”

  Nathan turned his head to look at her, so close that his mouth nearly brushed against her cheek. Catherine stood, not caring that she came close to knocking Nathan out of his seat, not caring that the man to her right was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. She pushed her way across Nathan, getting tangled in his feet and nearly tripping until he put a hand on her elbow to steady her. She ripped her arm out of his grasp and leaned over Matty, wanting to leave right that minute but knowing her irrational reaction would only hurt him.

  “I’m getting something to drink. Do you want anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Matty looked up at her with round eyes and she had the uncanny feeling that he saw more than she wanted him to see. “Are you okay, Mom? Your face is all red.”

  Catherine ignored Nathan’s soft chuckle as she leaned over and brushed a kiss over Matty’s forehead, assuring him that she was fine before climbing the steps to the main concourse.

  Nathan turned in his seat and followed her progress up the stairs, smiling to himself as he watched the angry sway of her hips. She looked different from when he had first seen her at the office. Her dark blond hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, a stark contrast to the deep green sweater that she wore. She turned and looked back, and he saw the flash of fire in her brown eyes even from that distance.

  He chuckled to himself then finished scrawling his autograph and handed the flag back to the man. He turned to Matthew. “I don’t think your mom likes me too much.”

  “Nah. She likes you. Mom likes everyone.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Of course. That’s her job.”

  Nathan studied the boy, surprised at his enthusiasm. The bulky wheelchair seemed out of place in an area so full of activity but Matthew didn’t seem to notice. He sat up straight, a soda in one hand as he watched the action on the ice in front of him. The jersey Nathan had sent with the tickets was too big for him, hanging on the boy’s slight frame. The way all boys wore sports jerseys, Nathan thought. His gaze traveled down, resting on the wad of denim that was neatly folded and pinned just below the knee.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  Nathan looked up and saw Matthew’s eyes on him, felt a rush of embarrassment when he realized he had been caught staring. He cleared his throat and offered him an awkward smile. “Sorry.”

  Matthew shrugged and took a noisy slurp of the soda. “That’s okay. Lots of people stare. I’m used to it. You can ask if you want, it doesn’t upset me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “How it happened. Everybody does. They had to cut it off because of the tumor.”

  “Tumor?”

  “Some kind of cancer. But it’s all gone now. That’s why they cut it off.”

  Nathan felt the color drain from his face and he took a long swallow of soda to hide his embarrassment. Good Lord, what the poor kid must have gone through. It was a wonder Dr. Wilson really hadn’t thrown him out of her office the other day — through the window. At least it explained why the temperature had dropped so dramatically when he showed up tonight.

  “How long ago did it happen?”

  “Ten months ago. I’m going to get a pro — prost…a fake leg soon. Mom doesn’t think I’m ready yet, but the doctors do.”

  “How come she doesn’t think you’re ready?”

  Matthew turned to face him, a look of pure annoyance scrunching his features so comically that Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. It was the look boys of all ages used whenever they didn’t get their own way. “She doesn’t even know I know I can get one — she thinks I’m going to get hurt.”

  “Hmm. I think I can see why she’d think that. I get the idea you’re all rough and tumble.”
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  “Mom says I’m hell on wheels right now.”

  Nathan’s eyes widened, momentarily stunned at the no-nonsense tone of the boy’s voice. He noticed the flush creeping up from Matthew’s collar and knew the words had been said for effect only. “She does, huh?”

  “Uh-huh. She says it’s probably a good thing she knows lots of doctors because I’m going to give her a heart attack.” Matthew pulled his attention from the game and studied Nathan with such an intense scrutiny that he had the sudden desire to squirm in his seat. “Do you like her?”

  Nathan squarely met the boy’s serious gaze with one of his own, feeling like his intentions were suddenly being questioned. “Yeah, Matthew, I do.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” Matthew’s face lit up with a huge smile and Nathan let out the breath he had been holding, feeling very much as if he had just passed some required test. The relief rolled over him unexpectedly and he was unable to suppress the stupid grin he knew was on his face.

  The light feeling dimmed momentarily when a short blast of the siren sounded, this time signaling a score for the opposing team. Nathan bit back a curse and focused his attention on the JumboTron to watch the replay, surprised he had missed it.

  A groan escaped him when he saw that the rookie playing his spot had failed to clear the puck from in front of the net, letting the other team score. One hand reached down and absently rubbed his knee, willing it to heal faster so he could get back to playing. He couldn’t afford to spend too much more time off the ice. If he did, there was a chance he’d miss making it to the finals. The way the Banners were playing, there was no doubt they’d be in the running for the Cup this year.

  “Nathan?”

  “What?” He flinched at the sharpness of his own voice and made an effort to soften it with a smile at Matthew.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll play again. I know you will.” The certainty in the child’s voice touched a hidden spot deep inside him, a spot he didn’t want to examine too closely. Swallowing hard, he leaned over and ruffled the kid’s hair then pulled back guiltily when Dr. Wilson came to a stop behind the wheelchair. There was no mistaking the glint of warning in her eyes as she stared down at him.

  The shrill sound of the buzzer echoed off the ice and pierced the noise of the crowd, silencing the excuse that had formed on his lips as effectively as it signaled the end of the game. The cheering crowd moved to its feet and slowly turned into a throng of beasts just two steps shy of a stampede, doing their best to scramble out of the arena. Nathan was struck by the uncomfortable silence that engulfed the three of them, setting them apart from the hordes. Embarrassment raced through him when he realized they were waiting for the crowd to thin before moving Matty’s wheelchair.

  He glanced at his watch. “Hey, Matty, how’d you like to go meet everyone?”

  “I don’t think —”

  “Oh, too cool!” Matthew’s squeal of excitement drowned out the doctor’s objection. “Please, Mom, can I?” He turned in his wheelchair and looked up at her with wide brown eyes full of pleading, and Nathan knew that whatever objections she had been about to voice just died a swift death. Hell, even he wouldn’t have been able to resist that look. He noticed the doctor’s pursed lips and met her narrowed eyes as she reluctantly nodded her consent. Without a doubt, Matty knew exactly what buttons to push with his mom. Nathan decided he’d have to talk to the kid and find out what he was doing wrong. There was no doubt he was pushing the good doctor’s buttons, too.

  It was just a shame they were all the wrong ones.

  Chapter Three

  Sweat poured from Nathan’s face; he reached up and absently wiped the stinging from his eye. Focus. He needed to focus. He struggled against the weight, feeling the pull in his knee. Focus! He repeated the word with a mental shout, over and over until the refrain obliterated the tearing pain he felt.

  One more. Just one more.

  He leaned back and gripped the padded handles harder, pulling, lifting, until a flash of heat tore through his knee. The sound of steel hitting steel rang out like a shot and echoed through the empty gym, taunting him with his failure.

  “Damn!” Nathan wiped a towel across his face before resting his elbows on his knees. Just that little bit of pressure caused more pain and he winced before shifting positions.

  “Damn!” The curse echoed around him. This was definitely not going the way he had planned. He was into his fourth week of physical therapy. He should be able to lift more weight by now. They had told him not to push it, but what did they know? If he waited as long as they suggested, he’d be old and gray before he went back to playing. That was a chance he couldn’t take.

  Nathan ran his hands through his damp hair then stood, ignoring the throbbing in his leg that threatened to topple him to the floor before he got his balance. He limped halfway to the locker room, thinking of nothing but a long, hot shower followed by several ice packs when the gym door opened behind him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice was unnaturally loud, the anger and accusation bouncing off the walls. Nathan stopped with a sigh and slowly turned.

  Sonny LeBlanc stormed across the floor, his meaty fists clenched by his sides when he stopped a foot away. Nathan fought the urge to flinch and make up excuses like a child. Sonny had that effect on everyone. At a stocky six feet tall, Sonny looked more like a former drill sergeant than a hockey coach. His dark eyes were harsh slits and the squareness of his face was made more austere by the buzz cut of his salt-and-pepper hair. The straight-edged scar that ran down the left side of his cheek glowed red under the bright overhead lights, an incongruous slash in an otherwise smooth face.

  Sonny had the misfortune of running into a skate blade during one of his final games years earlier. Now one of the best coaches in the league, he had the reputation of remaining outwardly impassive — except for the scar. No matter how poker-faced the man stayed, the scar always betrayed him, glowing like a brand during times of anger and duress.

  Right now, the brightness of the scar would light the gym if the power failed. Not a good sign for Nathan. He took a deep breath and let it out, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

  “How stupid are you, Conners? How stupid do you think I am? What are you trying to do, blow every chance you have of coming back? I oughtta suspend you just for being dumb! I’d’ve thought you knew better! Well? What the hell are you doing?”

  “Therapy.” Nathan’s tight voice seemed liked a whisper after Sonny’s outburst.

  “Bull! I just got off the phone with that doctor of yours and he said you ain’t supposed to be doing any of this crap until you’re cleared.” Sonny’s finger came up and jabbed Nathan in the chest for emphasis. “And you’re not cleared! Now get in there and wash up and don’t let me catch you back here! I’m not going to have you blow your chance because of some bullheaded notion swimming around that thick skull of yours!”

  Nathan clenched his jaw and stared at Sonny’s broad back as he left, feeling like an ultimatum had been laid at his feet. So now they were trying to keep him from working on his own, were they? Well, he’d just go see about that. He had too much at stake to let it rest in someone else’s lap.

  “I need to see Dr. Porter,” Nathan repeated for the third time, leaning closer to the desk so he hovered over the receptionist. He felt a second of gratitude when she flinched.

  “Mr. Conners, I’m sorry, but I already explained he left for the day. I can make an appoint —”

  “No! I want to see him. Now.”

  “There is nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

  Nathan glared at the small woman staring back at him and called himself every kind of fool. He would get nowhere by browbeating the poor lady, but he couldn’t just turn around and walk away. He had come here full of steam, eager for a face-off. He couldn’t give up so easily, not when there was so much at stake. “What about Dr. Wilson? Is she in?”

  The receptionist eyed him warily then flipped through one of the
many appointment books in front of her. He was grabbing at straws, he knew, but he was desperate.

  “Yes, she’s still here.”

  “Fine, then I’ll see her.”

  “Mr. Conners, you can’t just walk in…she has patients.”

  Nathan shot a quick look around the empty waiting room then turned back to the receptionist. “I need to see her!”

  “Mr. Conners, I said —”

  “What is going on out here?” Nathan turned at the sound of the cool voice, swallowed hard at the look of steel in the dark eyes that impaled him.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Wilson, but Mr. Conners insists on seeing someone….”

  “In my office!” She turned smartly on her heels and walked down the short hallway, stopping at the open door of her office and shooting him a look of impatient anger. Nathan clenched his jaw and followed, preparing for the battle he had initiated. He flinched when she slammed the door behind them. The apology that hovered on the edge of his lips died before he could utter it.

  “Who do you think you are, storming in here and shouting like that?” Clenched fists rested on her slim hips as she stared at him, the fury evident in her flushed face and heavy breathing. Nathan fought back his own anger, knowing he had instigated her temper with his loud demands. It would be easier to ignore her if his gaze would stop traveling the length of her body, noticing how different she looked from the other night. She was dressed more conservatively in dark trousers and an oversize lab coat that hid the blouse she was wearing.

  “Well?”

  Nathan pulled his gaze back to her face, noticed the flush that had spread across her cheeks and realized he had missed the last part of her angry tirade. He shifted from one foot to the other and tried not to wince at the sudden flare in his knee. “What?”