She glanced around the room. The circa 1900-styled kitchen hadn’t changed much at all except for an updated stainless steel refrigerator, and microwave with stove combo. She smiled, thinking how the newer appliances matched the original tin ceiling. As evidenced by the dish drainer on the counter, they hadn’t installed an automatic dishwasher. She liked how they’d used a tablecloth and someone had put a small vase of fresh flowers at the center. Everything felt homey at the clinic and it seemed filled with goodwill.
Two of the nurses strolled in, followed by the receptionist, and Claire got introduced. She liked how there didn’t seem to be an invisible barrier between the doctors and nurses. They all seemed to greet each other and interact casually as they filled their coffee cups and nibbled on muffins, as though one big happy work family.
Claire was thrilled to be a part of it.
One person was conspicuously missing, though. Jason Rogers was nowhere in sight, and no one but her seemed to make note of it.
After breakfast, Claire went upstairs to prepare for her first patients. Gaby, the receptionist, had booked all the last minute add-ons who were willing to see the newest addition to the clinic, with her. Rather than make the patients wait for an appointment with their assigned doctor on another day, as they used to, this default system gave the clientele a sense of easy access to medical care. Down the hall, she noticed Jason’s door ajar, but didn’t dare walk over to say hi. He’d made it clear he wasn’t the sociable type, and being a quick study, Claire knew she wouldn’t be able to change him.
She sat behind her sturdy oak desk, adjusted her hips into the comfy leather-bound chair, and marveled at how her life had changed. A year ago her husband, Charles, had divorced her, and immediately had taken up with another woman who’d wanted little to do with children. Charles couldn’t accept that he’d married a woman with a chronic illness and after her diagnosis, as the months clicked by, he’d grown more and more distant. Other than occasional weekend visits, poor Gina had been left on the sidelines of her father’s new marriage.
Charles had let Claire know, in no uncertain terms, that he couldn’t put up with her having Lupus. She’d been the same woman he’d met, fell in love with, and married, with the addition of a new diagnosis, but he couldn’t understand that. She’d become imperfect to him, and he couldn’t accept it. He’d made her feel guilty for getting sick, and ugly, when he’d look at her with disdain when her Lupus rash flared.
He was a successful businessman who insisted on a healthy partner to join him on adventures and extensive travel, and the once-loving man had shut down and turned away. Just like that. As if it was all her fault.
The pre-nuptial agreement left Claire with nothing beyond modest alimony and monthly child support payments. She knew Charles would come through in an emergency, but refused to depend on him for anything else. His not accepting her chronic illness had shattered her trust in both love and men, and she’d vowed to move on with her life—alone.
She’d recently had a stretch of good health and, with the new job, good fortune. As far as she was concerned, her past was just that. Over. And, with time, she hoped to get over the emotional damage, too.
Claire stood and moved to the window. She lifted the sash to allow fresh air inside and, gazing across rooftops, trees, and eventually toward the huge blue sea, she couldn’t help thinking that her luck had finally turned.
By early afternoon, Claire had seen a dozen patients and was getting into the routine of the clinic’s patient flow. Twenty-minute appointments were generous compared with the hospital where she used to be affiliated, which allowed only half that.
She read her next patient’s records on her computer, and heard footsteps down the hall, then a looming shadow covered her desk and Jason appeared. His mouth was in a straight line, and his eyes squinted tensely. He looked perturbed, to put it mildly.
“A back rub? That’s what you recommended to Ruth Crandall to add to her medical regimen?” he asked.
Claire had seen so many patients already, she had to stop and think who he’d referred to. The woman battling depression.
“Well, I noticed she’d had her antidepressant increased at her last visit and her general complaints were unchanged. I thought we’d try something different.”
“A massage?” He lifted a brow and handed the phone message toward her.
Claire read. Mrs. Crandall had called to tell him, after her visit that morning, what a great idea it had been to add daily massages to her routine, and how much she’d enjoyed meeting the new Nurse Practitioner. Under usual circumstances, a message such as this would be considered high praise, worthy of a pat on the back or handshake for a job well done. Evidently Jason Rogers didn’t see it that way. His irritated attitude put her on defensive.
“Daily massages are invaluable for depression,” she said. “They help relieve the aches and pains, and increase the release of endorphins for a sense of heightened well-being. There is healing power with touch.”
“Is that so?”
Claire stood. “It’s a perfectly good alternative to increased drug therapy. Wouldn’t you agree that it isn’t all about ‘find and fix’ anymore in medicine?” She waited for a response, but he just stood there with a steely glare. “Sometimes medical professionals need to integrate all avenues of health care for best results.”
“You may have a point, but I’ve never once considered a massage as health care.” He paced toward her framed credentials hanging on the wall. “Next you’ll be prescribing aromatherapy, I presume.”
She made a sly smile, and he caught her. “Maybe I will.” Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and paused. He’d obviously come to reprimand her, but nothing in this lingering gaze could prove it. He investigated her face and she felt suddenly self-conscious. She fought off the urge to pat her hair, wondered if her lipstick had smeared. “I’ve studied alternative medicine, and I believe there is much to be said for balancing the systems. After interviewing Mrs. Crandall, I identified her as a specific constitutional type who would benefit from massage.” And, speaking of constitutional types, you’d be classified as uptight!
“She lost her husband last year,” he said. “She’s grieving and depressed. My job is to get her through this rough patch with the medicine available and a grief support group, not to send her to a spa to waste her money for a superficial beauty treatment.” He leaned his knuckles on her desk and stared deeper into her eyes.
Claire refused to back away. “The power of touch is hugely beneficial for depression,” she said, staring back. “Have you ever tried it?” His left eye twitched. “I didn’t tell Mrs. Crandall to stop the medications you’ve prescribed.”
Jason eased back, no longer on the attack. “This isn’t how we practice medicine here, Ms. Albright.”
“You told her to get exercise. What’s the difference if I suggest massage? And the only complaint I see in this phone message—” she waved the message in the air “—is your interpretation of it. I’d say she was thoroughly happy about her visit today.”
“That’s not the point,” he said.
He seemed a bit unsure and she couldn’t help playing with him. “So one of our goals isn’t to make our patients happier?”
He tossed her an exasperated glance. “Just do me a favor and consult me first, Ms. Albright.”
She had the urge to say Aye-aye, Cap’n but noticed his glare had softened, and the tension around his eyes had disappeared. He really wasn’t comfortable interacting with people. Or was it just with her? Wanting desperately to make amends for any hard feelings, Claire smiled. “OK. But would you do me a favor and call me Claire?”
He glanced at her one last time, nodded in a stiff business fashion, and left the room.
Claire sat down and tossed her pen on the desk. She hadn’t given the woman a list of herbs to run out and buy, or asked her to ignore her medicine. She’d merely suggested that daily massage might help her through her depression. And the patient had be
en very receptive to the idea, enough to send a complimentary message about her add-on appointment to her regular doctor.
Why did Jason Rogers have to be such a wet rag about it?
She ran her hands through her hair and thought about the man who’d left her completely confused. She didn’t know his history, but would bet her first pay check that something awful had happened to him. Maybe he was one of those people who felt entitled to happiness and things hadn’t panned out, so he’d turned bitter. Whatever the reason, on a whim, she decided to go out of her way to be nice to him. Just to bug him.
When her first day at the clinic was over, Claire gathered her belongings, and prepared to leave. In the future, she’d be careful when counseling Dr. Rogers’s patients. One nasty run-in with him was enough.
Her eyes got big with the thought. She hoped Jenny Whatley, the university student, didn’t tell Dr. Rogers about what she’d suggested for her daily eyestrain headaches.
Not one second later, as she shut down her computer, Jason came barreling into her office.
Claire set her jaw and straightened her spine.
“What the hell is natrum muriaticum, and why did you suggest it to my patient?”
“You’ve been reading my patient progress notes, I see.” She tamped down her brewing anger over the fact he’d been checking up on her, and walked around her desk. She dared to look into his eyes and received a cold dull stare as her reward. This was nothing like the more reasonable man from earlier today. “It is commonly known as table salt and salt tablets are best used for chronic ailments.”
“Such as…”
“Such as daily headaches from eyestrain and tension. Jenny Whatley has been complaining to you about her headaches for over a year. She has all the classic traits of someone out of balance. Her complexion is pale and waxy. She looks emaciated and has cracks at the corners of her mouth. She’s anxious, irritable and stressed out. And she gets throbbing headaches everyday at the exact same time.”
“For which I have checked every possible condition and come up without a reason,” he said.
Oh, the old take two aspirin and call me in the morning approach, I see. She couldn’t help the snide thought. Jason Rogers seemed to draw the worst out of her. “But you haven’t solved her problem.”
“She has tension headaches. What does table salt have to do with any of that?” he said.
“It can regulate and balance the body fluids.”
He gave her an incredulous look.
In defense, she glared back. “I made sure she doesn’t have any counter indications for taking these tablets. Her labs checked out and so did the physical exam. We agreed she’d try them for a month. And she’ll call immediately if there are any adverse reactions, which I went over thoroughly with her, and which I predict won’t happen.”
“You don’t belong in this clinic. We are a reputable medical clinic, not some hocus-pocus guesswork group. If you want to prescribe table salt to patients, then set up a stand at your local health food store.”
Stung by his insult, she crossed her arms. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
René appeared at the doorway. “Is there a problem?”
“She’s a quack,” he said.
“And he’s a closed-minded medical robot!”
CHAPTER TWO
“HOLD on. Hold on.” René stepped between Jason and Claire in the cramped office.
Claire couldn’t believe her loss of control. His insult felt like a slap in the face and she’d retaliated without thinking. How had he gotten under her skin so easily?
“I don’t think she’s a good fit for our practice,” Jason said.
Claire’s heart sunk to her knees. She needed this job. Her ex-husband’s nominal child support payments barely covered the cost of pre-school and child care. As it was, she could only afford to rent the maid’s quarters in a seen-better-days mansion in Montecito. She needed to provide a life for the two of them. She had to make this job work.
“If I’ve stepped over the bounds, then I’m sorry,” Claire said, scrambling to make things right.
Jason’s glare softened. Had he heard the desperation in her voice?
“I’m sure we can work something out here,” René said.
“I thought we hired a Nurse Practitioner. Now I’ve come to find out we’ve got our very own faith healer.”
“I will not stand here and allow you to insult me like that!” Heat burned on her cheeks. She’d meant to keep quiet, but his words cut to her insecure core, and she needed to stick up for herself. No one would be allowed to walk all over her ever again.
“Then I suggest you leave,” he said with a glacier-cold stare.
Don’t back down. Even though my livelihood is at stake, he cannot be allowed to talk to me as if I don’t matter!
“I deserve just as much respect as you do, Dr. Rogers.”
“Hold on, you guys,” René interjected, her gaze jumping wildly from Jason and back to Claire. “We can work this out civilly.”
Jason shoved his hands in his doctor’s coat and punched his tongue into the side of his cheek. He glanced at her desk, and the framed picture of Gina. “Only because she has a daughter to support am I willing to let her stay.”
Who the heck did this guy think he was? The Emperor? Well, how kind of you, sir, and I shall be forever grateful. Not! “There are three other doctors in this practice who agreed to hire me. If you want to kick me out, I suggest you take a vote.” With fear quivering her insides, Claire worried she’d pushed things too far. She fought to cover up her apprehension by widening her stance and leaning slightly forward.
Jason also leaned closer, and his glare delved into her eyes.
Why did she feel transported back to grammar school and smack in the middle of a sand box dispute? Back when boys and girls didn’t know how to show they liked someone so they pretended to hate them. And why, upon looking closer into his eyes, did Jason Rogers appear to be enjoying himself?
“Hold on!” René said. “We don’t need to take a vote. We can work this out like adults.”
Claire wasn’t sure what had clicked in Jason’s mind, but his puffed up chest deflated infinitesimally and he stepped back.
“Look,” he said. “I know with the economy the way it is, no one wants to lose a job.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my patients alone. That’s all. You can pick up the overflow for René, Philip and Jon. If you agree to that, I’ll call a truce.”
Claire glanced at René, who wore an earnest expression, as if encouraging her to take the deal. Accepting his offer for a truce seemed like the sane thing to do. Anything seemed better than standing around arguing with the obstinate and unlikable Jason Rogers. On her first day at work, no less!
If he wanted her to leave his patients alone, she’d be glad to comply. And once she was given the chance to get solid results with the other doctors’ clients, maybe he’d come around to trusting her with his patients. And, if he asked nicely, she’d reconsider screening them for him.
She offered her hand, and he took it. The angry electricity that had jumped between them only moments before was still there. His palm was hot. And calloused, which surprised her. He stared intently into her eyes, and she almost needed to take a step back…but refused. There was something in his gaze that she hadn’t detected before and, coupled with holding his hand, it knocked her a bit off balance.
“Truce,” she said.
He nodded, dropped her hand and stepped away. After a brief glance in René’s direction, he said, “Sorry to drag you into this.” Then he went back to his office.
René stepped inside Claire’s office and closed the door. “He’s never offensive like that,” she whispered. “He’s sullen and moody, but never like that. I swear.”
Claire studied her open-toed shoes, trying her best to figure out what had just happened. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I’m never like this, either. Please don’t
hold this against me.”
“Not at all.” René cupped Claire’s arms. “We want you here. We’re glad to have you. You’ve got to understand that Jason, well…” She hesitated, as if she didn’t know how much to disclose about the man.
Who knew what his problem was? Perhaps he’d been through a rotten divorce like she had, and he held a grudge toward women the same way she did toward men. Maybe they had more in common than either would like to admit.
“Jason,” René continued, brushing her hair behind her shoulder, “how should I put it…he leads a lonely life, and sometimes he forgets how to treat people. His patients love him, though, and he’s an incredibly good doctor. Just give him time.”
“It’s apparent that he cares about his patients, I just wish he’d be a bit nicer to me. Hey, I’m a tough girl. I’ll live with this set-up. You know how much I want this to work out.”
“Good, because he essentially owns the building and practice.”
Claire’s throat dried up. Of all the people to pick a fight with. She needed to sit down. “I promise this will never happen again.”
René nodded and offered a reassuring smile. “Now, did I hear right—this was about table salt?”
Jason paced his office, exhilarated. A sensation he hadn’t experienced in a while. All because of an argument with Claire Albright? Albright—hah! She couldn’t have a more appropriate surname. Whenever she entered a room it brightened. She didn’t need to wear that becoming purple dress to make a lasting impression. All she had to do was smile. He remembered how taken aback he’d been when she’d smiled and introduced herself to him yesterday. He’d thought about her smile once or twice last night when he’d dined alone in his big and empty condo.
The Boss and Nurse Albright Page 2
