by Barbara Hart
‘That’s the one I’m a member of,’ said Andrew. ‘It’s very convenient for those art galleries you were telling me about.’
The words didn’t sink in at first. ‘Art galleries?’ Then the penny dropped as she recalled her embarrassment at accusing him of trying to pick her up for a quick fling.
‘Not making you blush, am I?’ He grinned wickedly at her.
As the evening progressed their conversational chat became more serious…and intimate. She noticed how frequently he was touching her, fleeting butterfly caresses on her hand and arm…touches that sent thrills through her each time they made contact, flesh on flesh. And his eyes, gazing deeply into hers, spoke volumes about his future intentions. Jane had been wrong. The last thing Helen would be doing tonight was taking notes about the patellar tendon graft.
After the meal they walked a few blocks hand in hand in the warm night air before stopping a cab. Andrew climbed into the back seat next to her and, sliding his arm round her shoulders, pulled her to him and kissed her. A kiss so wonderful that for the second time that evening Helen thought she might have died and gone to heaven.
It was a whole week before Helen met up with Andrew again. A whole week that she spent wondering if he would ask her out again or if that one date had been all they would ever share.
‘Perhaps he just asked me out as a kind of thank you for assisting at the operation?’ she suggested to Jane. ‘Maybe it wasn’t a proper date after all.’
‘He’s very busy at the hospital. I know that because I’ve seen him around nearly every day.’ Jane was making cinnamon toast for the two of them. ‘He’s real cute, isn’t he?’
‘Just a bit.’
‘More than just a bit, I’d say.’ Jane handed her the toast.
‘You’re right,’ admitted Helen. ‘He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve met in ages.’ She bit into the toast. ‘Wait till I tell the folks back home about this.’
‘About Dr Henderson?’
‘About cinnamon toast. We’ve never heard of it in Milchester!’
The following day, Helen scanned the tables in the Institute café as she had been doing, fruitlessly, all week. This time her heart gave a lurch as she noticed Andrew sitting alone at a table in the corner, his head buried in a book.
She was about to take her lunch tray over to join him when her courage failed her. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. What if Andrew had been deliberately avoiding her? If that was the case, it could turn out embarrassing…she certainly didn’t want to appear as if she was chasing him. But on the other hand he might think she was ignoring him. It was hard being a woman even in these liberated times!
She compromised by waving to him when he looked up temporarily from his book and putting her tray down at another table where one of her post-doc. colleagues was sitting. He was called Ken and his speciality was tennis elbow. He’d informed her that Ken was short for Kensington—and was mildly offended when her automatic reaction to this information had been to burst out laughing.
She and Ken were deep in conversation—some gossip he’d heard about the professor—when Helen was touched gently on the shoulder. Turning round, she looked into the brown eyes of Andrew Henderson.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said courteously to Helen’s lunch companion, ‘I’d like a quick word with Helen.’
‘Sure,’ said Ken. ‘I’m just going to refresh my coffee-cup.’
‘Please, stay,’ said Andrew. ‘It’s not a private conversation.’
Ken had slid out from the bench seat. ‘I need another injection of caffeine so, please, be my guest, Dr Henderson.’
As Andrew moved into the seat vacated by Ken, Helen experienced a pang of disappointment. Not a private conversation, he’d said. So he wasn’t about to ask her out on another date!
‘Hi,’ she said, giving him her most winning smile.
‘Hi. I was wondering if you could spare me some of your time later on this afternoon?’
‘Sure,’ she said, trying to sound casual as her heart rate went racing.
‘I’m giving a paper at a medical conference next month. I was wondering…well, hoping actually…that I could persuade you to collaborate on it with me.’
She was completely taken aback.
‘Me? Collaborate with you?’
‘Why not? I find your ideas stimulating and your avenues of knee-injury research innovative and refreshing. I’d be most grateful for your input.’
Her pulse was hammering away and her mouth had gone dry. She took a sip of water before answering.
‘That’s…that’s very flattering,’ she said. ‘I’d be delighted to collaborate with you. Just tell me how and when.’
‘I’ve a class of students this afternoon but I’ll be finished about five o’clock. Can we meet then?’
She nodded.
‘Good,’ he said, getting up as Ken arrived back at the table. ‘I’ll come down to the lab for you and we’ll find somewhere quiet.’
When Andrew had left Ken looked knowingly at Helen. ‘A date with the handsome doctor?’
‘Work,’ said Helen briskly, before changing the subject.
The afternoon dragged on. Helen found herself checking her watch every ten minutes. Just before five, Andrew came into the lab.
‘Can you bring as much material as possible?’ he said. ‘We might need it for reference purposes. I promise you’ll get the credit for anything I use that’s yours.’
‘I never doubted it for a minute,’ she said, gathering her papers together and dropping them into her document case.
‘There’s a small meeting room on the fifth floor. I’ve reserved it for us,’ he said as they walked to the lift. ‘I hope you don’t mind giving up some of your free time.’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ she replied, attempting to sound cool. If only he knew how absolutely, totally delighted she was!
When the lift arrived there were four people already inside. Helen and Andrew had to stand very close to each other, very close indeed…a sensation Helen found remarkably pleasurable.
In the meeting room they sat on opposite sides of the conference table, spreading their various papers over its shiny surface.
They worked on the project for nearly two hours, taking one short break for refreshments. Andrew had used his considerable charm to negotiate for a jug of iced tea and a plate of cookies to be brought up to the room by a café assistant even though the café was now technically closed for the evening.
‘Would you be happy to present the paper with me?’ he asked when they’d finished work for the day.
‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted.
‘Nervous about the prospect of speaking to a large gathering of medics? It can be a bit daunting the first time.’
Helen pondered for a moment.
‘I’ve made presentations before,’ she said. ‘Not on such a large scale, I must admit. The reason I’m hesitating is that I don’t want to appear to be muscling in on your platform. It might look as if I’m trying to grab some of your glory.’
‘Well,’ said Andrew, ‘I don’t want to put you in an awkward position if that’s what’s worrying you. There’s a lot of jealousy out there, I know. But in your case you would be entitled to grab some of the glory, as you put it. Your ideas, particularly in relation to non-operative treatments for sports injuries, are particularly thought-provoking. But it’s entirely up to you, Helen. I won’t push you into the limelight. Not yet anyway. But think about it.’
Having promised she’d do just that, Andrew suggested they go and grab a pizza.
‘My stomach’s rumbling,’ he said as they entered the Pizza Perfect restaurant on the same block as the Institute. Secretly Helen had been hoping that when he’d suggested a pizza he’d meant a take-away or one that would be delivered to his apartment. She didn’t want to rush things with Andrew—and chance would be a fine thing—but a cosy evening over at his place sharing a pizza and a couple of beers sounded very appealing to her.
> Over a large-sized house-special pizza the conversation turned once again to the medical conference that would be taking place in New York the following month and would be attended by delegates from all over the world.
‘The more I think about it,’ said Helen, cutting herself a second slice, ‘the more I think I’d like you to present the paper on your own, with me sitting in the auditorium. For this first time, anyway.’
‘This first time?’ repeated Andrew. ‘Do I take it you’re open to persuasion to collaborate on another occasion?’
‘If you’d like me to…and you don’t think I’m being too pushy.’
‘Not pushy—ambitious,’ he said, smiling at her in that way she found irresistible. ‘And, believe me, there’s nothing wrong with ambition. I suffer from it myself.’
They shared a taxi home after their meal and, as on the previous occasion, he kissed her before dropping her off at her apartment block.
Helen couldn’t figure Andrew out. His kisses were those of a lover, but he behaved more like a friend. Not even that sometimes…more a colleague. She could still feel the tantalising touch of his lips on hers. It felt good…it turned her on, and it made her realise that she wanted more from this relationship. Much more.
It had been a busy day in the laboratory. Assisted by Marcie, Helen had been analysing some new data gathered from the casualty departments of New York hospitals. They’d sifted through the material, picking out all the significant knee injuries over a twelve-month period.
At four o’clock, when she was considering taking a break, her phone rang. It was Andrew.
‘Are you doing anything after work?’ he asked. Her heart gave a small leap. Was he going to ask her out on a date?
‘Nothing much,’ she replied. ‘What did you have in mind? Something to do with the conference?’
‘Not this time,’ he said. ‘You remember Delroy, the young man we did the knee graft on?’
How could she forget? It had been the high point of her medical career to date.
‘Of course. Is everything going well with him?’
‘Come and see for yourself,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m phoning. I’m going to call in on him this evening to check on his progress. As you took a hand in the operation I thought you might like to join me.’
Helen jumped at the chance. ‘Oh, yes, please. That would be great. I’m very keen to see things through.’ Particularly with you…
As she put down the phone she was smiling. She was absolutely thrilled that Andrew was including her in his post-operative work. Slowly the smile turned to a sigh when it hit her that Andrew hadn’t been, as she’d first expected, phoning to ask her out on a date.
She met him, as arranged, by the front steps of the Institute and they hailed a taxi. When Andrew gave the cabbie the address the man grumbled and muttered something about ‘just my luck’.
‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ she heard Andrew tell him.
‘What’s the matter with him?’ she asked.
‘He’s not keen on going up there. It’s not the most salubrious part of Manhattan.’
As they drove north, leaving behind them the famous landmark buildings, Helen noticed the subtle way, block by block, the apartment buildings and shops became more shabby and less cared for. There were also fewer people out on the streets, giving the areas they were driving through an underlying air of menace. Helen shivered involuntarily.
‘Such a big change in such a relatively short distance,’ said Andrew, picking up on her unspoken thoughts. ‘How the other half lives.’
‘Mmm,’ responded Helen. ‘I was just thinking…it reminded me of parts of Milchester. The buildings aren’t as tall as here, of course, but the deprivation is just as bad…just as grim.’
The cab pulled up outside a bleak-looking tenement. The moment Andrew had paid him the cabbie switched off his ‘for hire’ sign and set off at speed.
‘It’s people like Delroy that make my job worthwhile,’ said Andrew as they walked up the four flights of rubbish-strewn stairs. ‘Being a good athlete is often the only chance someone like him has of escaping from all this. He’s well on the way to being a professional basketball player and this injury could have ended it all for him…and ended his hopes of getting a better life.’
They rang the doorbell. It was answered by Delroy.
‘Hello, Dr Henderson,’ he said, smiling broadly.
‘Delroy, this is Dr Blackburn, who assisted me at your operation.’
‘Please, come in, both of you.’
They walked behind the tall young man into the apartment. He was limping slightly, keeping one leg stiff.
‘I see you’re managing without the crutches,’ said Andrew as they followed him into the living room. An older woman was sitting in a shabby armchair.
‘Yes, Doctor, I’m doing real good, aren’t I, Momma?’
Andrew went over to the woman who was struggling to get up. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Johnson.’ He offered his hand before adding, ‘Can I help you up?’
‘Momma has this real bad hip,’ Delroy explained. He and Andrew helped Mrs Johnson out of her seat.
‘I keep telling Delroy he shouldn’t be lifting me like this, not with his bad knee. You tell him, Doctor. Maybe he’ll listen to you!’
‘As long as he takes the weight on his good leg, there’s no reason for you to worry about that, Mrs Johnson.’
Delroy’s mother straightened up and stood next to her son, who towered over her. ‘While you two doctors talk to Delroy I’m going to make you all a jug of my special coffee. I grind the beans myself and the blend is my own secret recipe.’ She hobbled stiffly across the room and out into the kitchen.
Helen spoke to Delroy with concern. ‘Your mother’s hip seems very bad. Can’t she get anything done about it?’
‘The hospital says she needs a hip replacement,’ said Delroy, ‘but they don’t say when that will be. And she hasn’t got the insurance for it. So…’ he shrugged ‘…I was saving up for her, but this knee injury put back my chances of a professional career.’
‘Only by six months,’ said Andrew reassuringly. ‘That is, if you’re following my instructions to the letter…keeping up with the rehab programme and not rushing into any sporting activity.’
‘I sure am, Doc,’ said Delroy with gusto. ‘And my coach is making sure of it, too. I’ve followed everything you’ve said. I’m not risking my future career on the short term.’
‘Excellent.’ Andrew patted him on the shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. ‘Now, let’s recap on what’s happened so far in your rehab schedule. How soon were you able to walk without pain?’
‘About one week. Something like that.’
‘Without crutches?’
‘I kept using one of them for a few more days and then I went without it.’
‘And can you now lift the leg without assistance when you’re lying on your back?’
‘Sure thing. I’ll give you a demo.’ Delroy lay down on the threadbare carpet and slowly elevated his leg.
Helen turned to Andrew. ‘That’s astonishing after the bad injury he had to his knee.’
‘It’s a very successful operation,’ said Andrew, ‘but only if the patient looks after the knee properly in the crucial weeks afterwards.’ Andrew helped Delroy to get up from the floor. ‘What about the leg immobiliser?’ he asked.
‘I still have that, but I’m due to take it off any day now.’
‘Why not now?’ suggested Andrew. ‘You have two doctors in attendance, so make the most of the opportunity!’
Andrew and Helen removed the leg brace and examined the knee. It was healing well and there was very little swelling in evidence.
A few minutes later, Mrs Johnson came into the room, carrying a coffee-pot.
‘Hey, Momma, let me do that!’ Delroy attempted to get up quickly but Andrew put a restraining hand on him. ‘I’ll get it, Delroy. Remember what I said about avoiding sudden movements, especially now that you’
ve had the leg brace removed.’
Helen had also reacted quickly and relieved Mrs Johnson of the heavy coffee-pot.
‘It makes me so mad,’ fumed Mrs Johnson, ‘being a cripple like this!’
‘It’s going to be all right, Momma,’ said Delroy, deep frustration clouding his eyes. ‘When I’m better I’m going to make that money real quick for your operation. Just you see if I don’t.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE tennis ball came flying over the net like a bullet. With great effort Helen managed to reach it before it did a second bounce and flicked it back to Andrew. He returned it to her with the force of a missile.
She missed.
‘Hey,’ she said crossly. ‘This is supposed to be a friendly, not Wimbledon centre court!’
Andrew laughed. ‘Just getting rid of a bit of aggression.’
‘Well, can we have a knock up first?’ she said. ‘Or you’re going to be playing on your own!’
He lobbed another ball gently in her direction. ‘I like it when you get cross and show me your feisty side. It reminds me of when we first met!’
Hitting the ball to and fro over the net, Helen began to relax and enjoy the game, although she was finding it hard to concentrate on her tennis technique. The sight of Andrew in his tennis shorts was quite a distraction, the dazzling white emphasising the golden tan of his long, athletic legs. It took a great effort on her part to keep her mind on her forehand and backhand.
‘You’re not a bad player,’ conceded Andrew when she took the first game off him. ‘I’m beginning to regret giving you such a favourable handicap!’
There was a twinkle in his eyes as they changed ends, and she blushed suddenly, too aware of his ad miring glance as it swept over her slim figure dressed in the rather short tennis dress she’d borrowed from Jane.
‘I was the tennis captain at school,’ she said quickly to cover her embarrassment at his scrutiny, then she laughed. ‘Did you think I’d be a walk-over, then?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted, smiling at her as they passed each other. For a second their eyes locked and Helen felt a crackle of intense attraction dart through her.
