Joanna met his fierce gaze without flinching. She knew it was time for her to dig deeper. Much deeper. “Dr. Rosenblum told me that it’s your own damn fault you got cut,” she snapped.
Harlan’s lips thinned with irritation, but he said nothing.
“Dr. Rosenblum said you made a careless mistake, Harlan,” she went on. “Is that true?”
“I’m not going to answer that,” Harlan snarled, and then flagged down the waitress for another drink.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not,” he replied, and to Joanna’s shock, he put his head in his hands, covering his face completely. He finally looked up, and gave her a hard look. “I’m a failure, Joanna. That’s why I’m in North Carolina now, and not Boston. There, I said it. Are you happy now?”
“You’re not a failure, Harlan. You just made a mistake, that’s all. We all do.”
Harlan gestured with his injured right hand. “I’m not talking about what happened today. I’m talking about my life in general. I’m a failure, Joanna. I’m here in North Carolina because of something that happened to me on my last Doctors Without Borders excursion, among other things. Things that pretty much render me incapable of ever working in a first-class hospital ever again.”
Joanna reached across the table and put her right hand over Harlan’s left one. The feel of his skin on hers was exciting, startling, and sensual all at the same time. Involuntarily, Joanna sucked in her breath as a hot surge of electricity jolted up her arm, ran through her neck and chest, and landed squarely between her legs. She took a deep breath to cool herself, and focused her eyes back on Harlan’s brooding ones before speaking. “Harlan, I don’t know what you could have possibly done to think you’re a failure. You’re a confident, capable, and obviously gifted man. I’ve thought so almost from the moment I met you.”
Harlan’s sandy-blonde eyebrows knitted. “Funny, it seemed to me you thought I was a total asshole when we first met.”
Joanna had to laugh. She squeezed his hand, and to her surprise and delight, he squeezed hers back. “Actually, yes, I did. But even assholes can be confident, capable, and gifted. The two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
To her amazement, Joanna found she was actually getting through to Harlan. After so many days of playing the super-tough, ultra-masculine surgeon, he was letting his guard down with her a little. Perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn’t be as hard for her to win his love as she thought.
Harlan squeezed her hand again, harder this time. “Joanna, I owe you an apology.”
“Oh, really? Why?”
The waitress arrived with Harlan’s third gin and tonic. He caressed the sweating highball glass with his fingers but didn’t take a drink. “I think you know why, Joanna. I wrongly accused you of cutting me in the OR. I manipulated you into thinking the accident was your fault, when it wasn’t. I—“ Harlan trailed off and stared into his highball glass.
“Go on.”
After a long pause Harlan took another cautious sip of his third gin and tonic of the evening. Even with that much alcohol in his system, the necessary words were not coming easily to him. Joanna squeezed his hand again, and this time, his fingers caressed the inside of her hand by way of responding. The feel of his smooth, ministering fingertips on her skin was electric.
“The truth is, Joanna, I’ve been making careless mistakes in my surgical practice for years now. What happened today was just the first mistake that physically injured someone. Despite all the mistakes I’ve made before, I didn’t want to accept that I was capable of being so inept at my own job, so I blamed you instead. Then when Dr. Rosenblum saw through me—well, I guess I just lost it. I’m sorry.”
Harlan sighed and hung his head. Joanna could feel from the sadness and tension in his fingers as they gripped hers.
“I suppose it’s a mixed blessing that the person I injured was myself, instead of you or my patient,” Harlan went on. Joanna could smell the alcohol on his breath now. It mixed with the scent of his aftershave and his own distinctive, musky male scent to form a malleable, almost acid-like odor that she supposed was the scent of fear. Her heart went out to him.
“But I’m afraid that if there’s a next time, I won’t be so lucky,” he said. Harlan let go of Joanna’s hand and started fiddling with his napkin again. He didn’t touch the calamari, so Joanna polished the rest of it off herself.
Licking some excess grease off her fingers, Joanna gave Harlan a gentle smile, which seemed to relax him a little. “Thank you for the apology, Harlan. I appreciate it, I really do. But it seems that there’s a lot more to this than what you’re telling me.”
Harlan’s jawline hardened, erupting into dozens of nervous tics again. “I don’t know what you mean. I just spilled my guts to you—“
“The other mistakes, Harlan. What other careless mistakes have you made in your career? In your life?”
“I don’t want to talk about this any more, Joanna.”
“But—
Harlan put up his hand. His right hand, palm first. Joanna studied the nine perfect butterfly stitches on his palm for a moment. She started to speak, but Harlan cut her off.
“This—“—Harlan indicated his wound—“is not your fault, Joanna. It was my fault. A lot of other things are my fault, too, but I’m not going to discuss those things with you. Not tonight, not ever. Do you understand?”
“Harlan, just tell me—“
“Joanna, please just leave me alone!” Harlan slammed his left palm on the tabletop, hard. The water glasses shook, and his half-empty highball glass tipped over, spilling liquor everywhere. A few of La Colatta’s other customers turned to stare.
Joanna was dumbstruck. She felt her cheeks color, and her insides, which just moments ago had been aflame with desire, went stone cold. “Excuse me,” she whispered, a lump fast forming in her throat as she sped off for the ladies’ room.
****
Joanna stood at the sink in La Colatta’s tiny ladies’ room. Someone knocked on the locked door of the single-toilet bathroom hoping to use it, but Joanna wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.
Joanna washed and re-washed her hands under the ice-cold taps. She felt the urgent need to wash off all traces of Harlan Wilkinson’s touch. The man evoked such strong feelings of arousal in her that she feared she lose control of herself and drop her drawers right in the middle of the restaurant if she didn’t cool off.
And of course there was the little problem of Harlan being cold as ice himself at the moment. She wasn’t optimistic of her chances of seducing him again.
Harlan harbored more than a few demons in his psyche—that was clear. But more and more, Joanna got the feeling that she didn’t want to know what those demons were. Even as she had succeeded somewhat at poking underneath Harlan’s hard exterior to expose the vulnerable, terrified little boy underneath—if only for a moment—Joanna was afraid to probe him any further. She was afraid if she did, she’d lose any chance she had with him entirely.
On the other hand, Joanna figured she didn’t stand a chance with him at all so long as the real Harlan Wilkinson stayed buried underneath that impenetrable façade he’d built up around himself, either.
Well, she was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. She just couldn’t win.
Joanna dried her hands on the old-fashioned roller towel, and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. At thirty-six, she was still a very attractive woman. The physical activity of a hospital nurse’s job kept her fit, and she also enjoyed running and hiking on the local mountain trails when she had time. She’d always been shy of the sun and had never smoked, so her complexion was smooth, without even the slightest hint of crow’s feet or laugh lines. She’d never had any gray hair or felt the need to color her naturally straight, strawberry-blonde tresses, which she always wore in a simple half-ponytail pulled back from her face. Her breasts were small but firm, and didn’t sag like those of many women her age. Her hips were slight, but just curvy enough for her petite fram
e.
Joanna sighed at her reflection. She was a desirable woman, and she knew it. Why on earth had she only had sex with two men—her fumbling ex-husband and the overwrought, emotionally unstable Harlan Wilkinson? And why was she wasting her time on Dr. Harlan Wilkinson when she could probably have any single man she wanted?
Probably because Dr. Harlan Wilkinson was the first man who had ever made her feel like a truly sexual being, that’s why.
Even if the man did carry some serious emotional baggage, Joanna couldn’t walk away from him. It had taken thirty-six years for her to experience the kind of sexual pleasure that Harlan brought out of the deepest, darkest recesses of her body. If she lost him now, Joanna was afraid she’d never experience that kind of pleasure again.
She had to make this work. She had to.
Joanna shouldered her purse and left the bathroom, nodding her apologies to the line of impatient women waiting to use the facilities. She marched back into the restaurant, prepared to make Harlan hers once and for all.
But when she got back to their table, Harlan was gone.
FOURTEEN
Joanna stared at her untouched stuffed-shell entrée, humiliated. Harlan’s jacket was gone from the back of his chair, and his own entrée was missing. When Joanna asked the overworked waitress if she had seen where her dinner companion had gone, the girl explained that Harlan had requested a takeout box for his spaghetti Bolognese and left the restaurant while Joanna was still in the bathroom.
He probably went to a bar, Joanna seethed. I guess three gin and tonics weren’t enough for him. She picked at her salad and pasta dish but found that her appetite had completely disappeared. She flagged down the waitress for a takeout box and the check. The waitress returned with a Styrofoam takeout box, but told her the bill had already been paid in full “by the gentleman who just left.”
Well, the “gentleman who just left” could find his own goddamn ride back to Statesville. What an ill-mannered, selfish Yankee jerk. That was it. Even if he was the only man who had ever made her come, Joanna was through with him. Absolutely through.
She gathered her things and headed out to her car. She searched the windshield to see if Harlan might have had the common courtesy to leave her a note, but of course he had not. With a sigh of defeat, Joanna unlocked her car door, got in, and tossed her shoulder bag onto the passenger seat. Just as she keyed the ignition, her cell phone rang.
She fished it out of her shoulder bag. “Hello?”
“Joanna, it’s Maryam Malone. Where are you? And where’s Dr. Wilkinson?”
“I’m in Raleigh. I brought Dr. Wilkinson here to see Dr. Rosenblum, about his hand injury. You heard about the accident in the OR, I assume?”
Maryam clucked. “Yes, I did. So Darth Vader got cut, huh? I’ll bet that wasn’t a pretty sight.”
Joanna laughed in spite of herself. “You have no idea.”
“I assume he’s still with you, then?” The old nurse sounded frazzled. Joanna figured Maryam must be pulling double-duty since Joanna had left with Harlan earlier in the day.
“No, actually he’s not.”
“I see.” The older woman sounded surprised. “So where is he now?”
Joanna bit her lip before answering. “Well, you see Maryam, I don’t exactly know.”
“What do you mean? I thought you drove him to Raleigh yourself.”
“I did.”
Maryam sighed on her end of the line. “So, where is he?”
“I don’t know. We were having dinner, and he took off when I was in the bathroom.”
“You were having dinner with him, Joanna? You actually sat down to dinner with Darth Vader himself?” Maryam sounded both surprised and amused.
“I only did it at Larry Rosenblum’s suggestion. He seemed to think Dr. Wilkinson would need to do some relaxing after the bad news Larry gave him.” Joanna wasn’t sure how much of that bad news she should reveal to her friend and colleague. Although she respected the older nurse very much, Joanna had learned the hard way over the years that Maryam was also a bit of a gossip.
And Maryam’s busybody tendencies were certainly on display today. “What bad news is that, Joanna?” the older woman gushed, anxious. “Everyone here is dying to know what really happened. Word around the ward right now is you handed him the scalpel wrong, but I’m having a hard time believing that.”
“Well—“
“It wasn’t your fault, was it? I hope not. I really can’t stand to lose another nurse right now.” Maryam sounded genuinely concerned for Joanna.
“Another nurse? What do you mean?”
“Lindsay Strouse just handed in her notice. She’s taking a job at St. Michael’s, the Catholic hospital in Durham. She only gave me a week’s notice, too. And Shirley Daniels is threatening to quit too if Darth Vader doesn’t shape up his OR behavior.”
Joanna clucked. “That’s odd. Shirley usually isn’t one to complain publicly about anything.”
“I know,” Maryam said. “Something’s gotten into Shirley lately. She’s changed.”
I’ll say, Joanna thought to herself. And I bet I know why.
“I don’t know what’s going on with Shirley Daniels,” Maryam went on, “but I hope to God she doesn’t quit too, because I don’t know where I’m supposed to find a surgery/recovery nurse and a nurse-anesthetist in the same week in the middle of North Carolina. Do you think you could talk the both of them into staying?”
“I’ll try,” Joanna said, noncommittal.
“Joanna?” Maryam pleaded. “You aren’t being fired for this, are you?”
“Don’t worry, Maryam,” Joanna finally replied. “Larry Rosenblum inspected the wound and determined it was Dr. Wilkinson’s own fault, so the hospital can’t do anything to me. I’ll be sticking around for a while.”
Maryam guffawed. “You mean to tell me that Darth Vader cut his own hand? Well, then he’ll be fired for sure.” Maryam laughed again, harder this time. Joanna thought she heard the older woman slapping her knee.
Joanna didn’t join in Maryam’s laughter. Even after his callous treatment of her in the restaurant, she still couldn’t bring herself to have a laugh at Harlan’s expense.
“Joanna, are you there?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice clipped. “Look, Maryam, is there something I can do for you? If so, make it quick. I’ve got to get back on the road.”
Maryam sighed. “Well, I just called to tell you Administration has ordered that you take at least the rest of the week off until they could figure out what happened for sure in the OR today. But it looks like given what Dr. Rosenblum found out you won’t need to be off quite that long. Even if you do come back after a day or two, I’ll still be really short-staffed in the meantime. So if you can find it in your heart to try to recruit some more nurses for me—anyone you might know from your school days or whatever—I would be eternally grateful.”
Joanna sighed. She knew that not one of her old nursing-school chums would consider a low-paying job at a rural hospital, but she couldn’t bring herself to give Maryam that bad news. “I’ll see what I can do. And Maryam, I would really appreciate it if you would keep what I told you about Harlan’s accident to yourself. The truth will come out eventually, since Larry Rosenblum’s filing his report with Administration, and I’d prefer it came out through the proper channels.”
“My lips are sealed,” Maryam replied, and broke the connection.
Joanna hoped Maryam kept her word, but she wasn’t holding her breath.
****
As Joanna made the two-hour drive back to Statesville alone, a hundred troubling thoughts crossed her mind. What if something had happened to Harlan in Raleigh? What if he’d been mugged, or hit by a city bus, or passed out drunk in the gutter? Would it be her fault? What if he reported her to Administration for abandoning him in town?
At the last thought, Joanna laughed out loud. “Abandoning” him? How could she think such a thing? After all, he had ditched her.
The familiar landmarks of the long Raleigh-Statesville drive passed her one by one. Billboards for Howard’s Truck Stop and Truck Wash, Carolina Antique Market, and The Cherokee Gift Emporium. The faded sign marking the turnoff to the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway, and many of the typical brown highway signs advertising state parks and campgrounds all passed her by. One of those brown highway signs caught her eye—“Carl Sandburg National Historic Site: Next Right, 25 mi”.
Joanna glanced at her watch. It was already after six, which meant the national park affiliated with the famous poet’s home was probably closed for the day. But she’d always heard the views and vistas near the famous landmark were lovely, especially in the early springtime when the wild rhododendrons were in bloom. And after the day’s events, she could use a few moments’ respite in a calm, beautiful place. She decided to make a brief detour onto Highway 225 and head towards the Carl Sandburg Home, maybe pull off at one of the many scenic overlooks along the way. She’d heard there were many mountain waterfalls in the vicinity—perhaps she would find one, even drink from its pure mountain water as she had done from the springs her father used to take her on hikes to find when she was a little girl.
Joanna eased the rattling old Honda onto the exit ramp that merged with the old, winding two-lane highway that led into the Blue Ridge mountain hideaways where Sandburg, the famous poet, had once found such inspiration.
After driving for about twenty-five minutes, she saw more signs. “Now Entering Pisgah National Forest.” “Elk Falls Trail, Next Right.”
On a whim, she followed the Elk Falls Trail sign onto a narrow gravel road that led straight into hemlock forest. After following the rough, rutted road for almost a mile, she came into a small parking lot. There was a single sign reading “Elk Falls Trailhead”, a couple of Porta-Potties, and a trash can, but no other cars. There wasn’t another soul in sight.
Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy Page 9
