by Dianne Drake
Yes, he was definitely a guy who could make a girl go giddy with his good looks. But he was locked up so tight. Maybe because of his scars, maybe because of something else. Which really didn’t make a difference, or shouldn’t make a difference. She was only here to learn from him, and not get goose bumps from just looking at him.
Shanna followed Ben to the waiting area to call her next patient, brushing her arm, trying to rid herself of her goose bumps.
* * *
Time passed so quickly she felt like her head was swimming. One minute she was in the middle of yesterday’s shift, now it was the end of the next day, she’d worked twenty hours out of the last thirty, and every single one of them had gone by in a blur.
Even more amazing was the fact that she’d never worked as hard in her whole life, or felt so good about her accomplishments. Little things. Sore throat. Bug bites. Cuts. Sprains. Pregnancy checks. All of that, and her body wasn’t protesting...yet. Of course, she could be on an adrenalin kick, or maybe it was the evening ahead with Ben that was giving her this late burst of energy.
Either way, she was charged, raring to go.
The funny thing was, she hadn’t been out on a date of any sort in, what? Definitely not since the divorce five years ago. Add two years of marriage to that, most of which she hadn’t even lived with her husband...now that she’d done the math, she was suddenly nervous. Which showed itself when Ben knocked on her door and her reaction was a little clutch in her heart and a little catch in her lungs. Then that last quick look in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, even though Ben had already seen her covered in the best the jungle had to offer.
“It’s not a date,” she said aloud as she dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, ran her fingers through her hair to give it just a little more wild edge and headed to the door. “He’s paying off a bet.” Doing the honorable thing.
“I have to be back on duty in an hour,” he said, right off.
Her formerly clutching heart sank a little, but she smiled through it. “And I have a date with a riveting medical journal, so that works out, doesn’t it?” A reactionary riposte, she knew, but it was the best she could come up with.
“Then I guess we’d better hurry.” Ben didn’t come in. Instead he stepped back from the door and actually started to walk down the corridor. Not as an escort, but as someone to follow.
“I guess we had. You go on ahead, and I’ll catch up.” With that, Shanna dashed back into her room, grabbed a tissue and wiped the gloss off her lips, then found a rubber band. When she caught up to Ben, who was halfway off the hospital compound, her hair was pulled back into her workaday ponytail.
And he didn’t say a word about it. Not one darned word. In fact, he barely spoke as they walked down to the village, not hand in hand. Not even together, as his pace was always about two steps in front of her. The place where he seemed to want to be.
Then, apart from the expected conversation—it’s a nice night, we’re having nice weather—the other little bits of conversation focused on patients and hospital supplies, and by the time they reached the edge of the village proper, Shanna was so annoyed by his rude behavior she blurted out, “How about we just skip this whole thing, since it’s obvious you don’t want to do this?”
Ben stopped a good five feet ahead of her but didn’t turn to face her right away. In fact, it took him several seconds before he spun around. “It’s not that I don’t want to do this. It’s that I don’t do this.”
“What? Take a night off?”
“No. I don’t take women to dinner. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Remember how I told you I was boring? Remember how we simply met up in Tuscany but never really went together? Well, this is part of it. I do not date. Not ever.”
This was something she hadn’t seen coming. Not at all. “Because you don’t like women? You’re gay?”
He actually laughed. “I love women. The only gender for me, actually. But I don’t get involved with them.”
“How would you define involved? Because in my world a one-hour night out on the village doesn’t constitute an involvement.”
“Especially in a ponytail?” he asked.
Now she was perplexed. Noticing her quick hair change would indicate a signal of some sort. She just didn’t know what kind of signal. More than that, she didn’t know what kind of signal she wanted. Because, like Ben, she didn’t get involved, and she had a divorce certificate to remind her just how messy an involvement of a personal nature could be. “You noticed?”
“I’m not oblivious, Shanna. Maybe a little obtuse in some matters, but I do notice the things around me.”
“Obtuse by design,” she commented, even though she was still keeping her distance.
“Not denying it.”
Well, at least he was honest. No way she could fault that. “As long as we know where we stand,” she said.
“See, that’s the thing. You may know where you stand, but I don’t. I don’t even know why you’re here. The real reason. Not the one you’re giving me.”
“And that bothers you?”
“What bothers me is that I planned an hour for this dinner, and we’re standing in the middle of the road, wasting it.”
See, there it was again, the nagging reminder that Ben didn’t want this. And it wasn’t only about dinner. Which made her wonder how she was going to stay close enough to watch him when all he wanted was to keep her at a distance. She’d hoped something would come of this evening, even if he’d reduced it to mere minutes.
Now, though, it felt like he was even shutting that down to her, so what was the point of continuing when it was obvious his conversation would not go much beyond the weather or the patient with severe eczema? “You know what, Ben? You’re off the hook. I relieve you of your obligation to take me to the village. You can have your hour back, okay? Have fun with it.”
With that, she spun around and marched as hard and fast as she could back to her room, where she slammed the door, kicked a wooden footstool across the small confines, then threw herself down on the bed and simply stared up at the ceiling.
Okay, so maybe she did let her emotions get in the way. And maybe he wasn’t the one, and this wasn’t the place. But she wasn’t ready to concede that her grandfather was right about her, because that doomed her to a career she simply didn’t want. Even thinking about spending every day pushing papers and fiddling with mundane business things made her queasy. That wasn’t her idea of being a doctor, but it was all her family was offering unless...
“Unless I learn to be more like Ben and less like me.” That reality caused a hard lump to form in her throat. Being like Ben wasn’t a victory. It was a concession. “Just do it, Shanna,” she said, staring so intently at the lovely little mariposas—butterflies—taking up residence on her ceiling light that a bang on her door startled her.
“Go away,” she shouted, knowing instinctively it was Ben coming to make amends.
“By my watch, I still have a little over half an hour coming to me,” he shouted back.
“Consider it my gift to you. And don’t you dare tell me you’ve marked it down in your calendar and you can’t change it.”
“I did. It’s in ink, so it’s impossible to change,” he countered.
In spite of herself, she laughed. Ben Robinson might have the social skills of a pink fairy armadillo, an Argentine animal that possessed the ability to bury itself completely in a matter of seconds if frightened, but Ben’s armadillo ways were engaging in some respects. “If you promise not to bury yourself in the dirt the instant you step inside, the door’s unlocked. Come in, if you want to.”
“I’m not sure...was that an invitation?” he asked, pushing the door open.
“If you want it to be.” Surprisingly, she wanted him to open that door.
“Look,” he said, stepping over the threshold yet not entering the room, “I live a very secluded life out here, forget how things are supposed to work sometimes.”
“Like common
civilities?”
He nodded. “I, um... No excuses. I was rude and I’m sorry. I so totally avoid all the social trappings that I forget how people might have certain expectations of me in those areas, since I don’t have expectations of myself. I didn’t mean to offend you, Shanna. In fact, I was looking forward to—”
“An hour,” she interrupted.
“Okay, you’re going to get another apology because I realize that timeline was uncalled for. That was me, trying to play it safe.”
“Safe from what?” she asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. “From me? Do you think I have those kinds of intentions? You know, follow you all the way from Tuscany to wherever in the world this is just to seduce you? Because if it was seduction I wanted from you, I’d have gotten it over with in Tuscany, and right now I’d be sipping wine in a Paris bistro instead of lying in my bed watching bugs in Argentina.”
“What else am I supposed to believe? You tell me you’re here so you can be like me, and if that’s the case then you’re certifiably insane. And I don’t think you’re insane.”
“I need a new dedication in my life, Ben, and I wasn’t finding it where I was. You intrigued me in Tuscany and that’s why I came here. The kind of dedication you have is what I want to develop in myself.” Dedication, meaning dispassion or distance. Which she would never, ever say to him in those terms because that would be hurtful. Ben didn’t deserve that.
He shook his head. “All I see when I’m watching you work is dedication. You’re involved, Shanna. And passionate. How can that not be dedication?” He stepped into the room, took a few more steps forward, then extended his hand to her. “Anyway, let’s not ruin the rest of the evening with philosophical conundrums. Come on, get up. I owe you a dinner.”
She looked at his hand for a moment. Soft, gentle. The kind of hand that could stroke a woman into easy submission. “I’ll go, but only because it’s in ink on your calendar and, God only knows, you can’t change it once it’s in ink.”
“I wrote it in ink because I didn’t want to find an excuse to get out of it.”
“But an hour?” she asked, taking hold of his hand and tingling to everything she’d expected his touch to be. Tingling and goose bumps.
“That gave you your out, Shanna. I’m not the most engaging person to be around so I figured an hour was time enough to eat and for you to make a polite exit once you realized that anything more than an hour with me would turn into misery. So, yes, an hour. But let’s add an option to that.”
“An option for what?”
“More. There’s nothing written in ink underneath that hour.”
“So I get to negotiate for another hour if the first one goes well?” Normally, this was where she’d have simply shoved him out the door, by brute force if necessary, then locked it after him. But she did have those tingles and goose bumps to contend with, whatever they meant. Besides that, Ben fascinated her. His odd outlook on life could be her starting point.
“If you want to negotiate. Not sure that’s going to happen, though.”
“Pretty sure you’re that boring, are you, Doctor?” she asked, standing. “Do I feel another wager coming on? Because I like to dance, so it might involve a tango. Just thought I should warn you.”
* * *
What was it about her that intrigued him? She was pretty. Downright beautiful, actually. Red hair like he’d never known red could be. Sensual, soft. And green eyes the color of emeralds. So, in spite of his empty heart, there were so many reasons to look. He was human after all. But what else? Her infectious personality? Because Shanna had the ability to draw people in, and he wasn’t denying that he’d been drawn in, starting with that first morning in Tuscany when she’d approached him and he’d walked away.
And too many stray thoughts long after that. Now, thinking about the two of them in a tango, specifically a sultry Argentine tango...he could almost feel her leg snaking up his, feel her thigh pressed to his.
When he realized where his thoughts were taking him, Ben expelled a sharp breath. No way in hell that was going to happen. He wouldn’t allow it. And that was where his mind stayed for a good part of their walk to the village—on the things he wouldn’t allow.
Except the list was provocative, because everything he forbade himself was everything he wanted, and the more he tried to force it away, the more it pummeled him. It was only when they were seated across from each other at the restaurante aéreo fresco and Shanna was studying the menu scribbled on a chalkboard hanging on the outside brick wall that he was able to force himself to relax a little. Otherwise he was well into his second chance at an evening he didn’t want to ruin, on the verge of ruining that, too.
“If I could make a recommendation, bife a caballo is excellent. Beef is the traditional evening meal here, and a caballo means—”
“On a horse?” she asked.
“I forgot you speak the language.”
“Some. It was the second language in my home when I was growing up.”
“I’m guessing a Spanish-speaking nanny?” He smiled as he flagged down the server, a young girl who didn’t look to be more than fifteen or sixteen. Glancing back to acknowledge him, she was moving slowly, holding her back. Looked exhausted, so he gave her the okay sign and a smile, indicating he wasn’t in a hurry.
“Best nanny in the world—one of the Brooks family perks.”
“Spoken with a hint of disdain.”
“Not disdain so much as disappointment. I love Asuncion. Would trust her with my own child, if I had children. The thing is, I would raise my own children and not leave that to the nanny. Her job would be as caregiver when I wasn’t there, not stand-in parent. But when I was growing up, she was my stand-in parent because my parents were so involved in the hospital. I’d go days without even seeing them. Wouldn’t even see them when they were home.”
“I met your father the day your grandfather rejected me for a residency position. He was...formidable. Not much separation between your father and your grandfather, actually.”
Shanna tensed. “I’m sorry you were rejected, Ben. My grandfather is a very hard man. He has his ideas and he doesn’t budge.”
He reached across the table, squeezed her hand. “But I benefited from his rejection because I found a hospital that taught me what I needed to know about surviving in the kind of practice I’ve set up here. It was rough, but it was also good, so I should probably thank your family for turning me down because your grandfather was correct when he told me my personality was abrasive and I was too argumentative to succeed in their residency program.”
“Were you really abrasive and argumentative?” she asked. “Because I can’t see that. Socially distant bordering on cold or aloof maybe. But abrasive and argumentative?”
He chuckled. “Talk about abrasive.”
She smiled. “Sometimes the truth is harsh. But that’s how I see you...most of the time. It’s not a criticism, though.”
“It’s not harsh. The truth is the truth, but it’s not always so nice to hear. Anyway, back then I was abrasive and especially argumentative. Lots of axes to grind, I suppose. And it’s still in me, if I want it to be.”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Not for a long time. Behaving that way doesn’t prove anything and, in the end, the only one truly hurt is yourself. So why bother when it doesn’t get you what you need?”
“What do you need?”
“A tiny hospital in an isolated area of Argentina.”
Shanna sighed, slipped her hand out of his and relaxed back into her chair. “I’m still sorry my grandfather rejected you, but I’m glad you got everything you wanted in spite of him.”
“One of life’s little ironies is that I didn’t get what I wanted at the time, but what I needed found me when I was ready for it. It worked out the way it was meant to.” But it wasn’t all good with her. He could see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders went so rigid. Her new dedication had something to do with her fam
ily, and it was about a lot more than an argument over the treatment of an end-stage renal patient. Asking her about it would signal involvement, however, so he opted for the safe route.
He deferred back to the menu. “Anyway, bife a caballo is a steak topped with a couple of fried eggs, with fried potatoes and salad on the side. It was a traditional meal before the gauchos set out on their horses to tend to their ranch—hence the equine reference in the name. Not what I’d care to eat before I go horseback riding, but to each his own, I suppose.”
“Sounds...huge. But I like food, so it’ll work.”
“Bife a caballo. Make that two,” he said, holding up two fingers to the young server, who’d finally made her way to the table, seeming awfully glad to stand there and rest while he and Shanna talked. “With lemonade?” he asked Shanna. Then confirmed it to the server when Shanna said yes. “Dos vasos de limonada también, por favor.”
“So now that the dinner necessities are taken care of, and I’ve apologized on behalf of my family, although I doubt they’d actually ever apologize to anyone about anything, is this where we discover we have nothing to talk about, or so many things in common we won’t be able to stop talking?”
“The former for me,” Ben said. “Keeps it simple.”
“What’s wrong with making it complicated?”
“Complicated takes too much effort. There’s too much responsibility involved, and I have enough of that with the hospital. Don’t care to go looking for more.”
“Makes sense to me,” she said, knowing it did but simply not feeling the substance of it. “So, in the spirit of simplicity, how about we come up with a list of complicated topics we’re not going to talk about? You know, set our boundaries?”
“Sounds like something I’d say.”
