by Tina Beckett
So she was going to continue doing the things she loved as if she’d never seen him—although she had no idea how that was possible. She’d just have to come up with some kind of strategy for future sightings.
The doors to the elevator swished back open, and she stepped out onto the busy floor of the world she knew and loved.
Strategy.
She mulled that word over for a second or two before discarding it. Right now, she would practice preventative medicine. If it worked in health care, it could surely work in her love life—not that she had one. Since Clay, she’d dated two men. Neither had lasted more than a couple of months. She could never seem to relinquish enough control to make a steady relationship work.
Okay. So prevention was the word of the day—the word for avoiding negative consequences. Starting now, Tessa would practice prevention when it came to Clay.
Which meant avoiding him. At all costs.
“Traditional Capoeira of Brazil.”
The familiar name on the list of businesses supporting the hospital’s annual summer Health Can Be Fun festival caught Clay’s eye. At the bottom of the page were hundreds of lines—many already filled in with the names of volunteers. Hospital staff had been encouraged to find a place to serve ahead of the July 19 event. Most of the easier tasks—like raffle drawings, the ticket booth and kiddie face painting—were taken. He shook his head. He’d have to look at it again when he was a little calmer.
Seeing Tessa this morning had thrown him for a loop. Maybe he would have handled it better had she not been standing in front of that ridiculous poster the hospital had insisted on putting up. But there she’d been, talking with one of her friends. His gut had tightened when he heard the other woman laugh at something Tessa said. Because there’d been nothing funny about what had happened between the two of them.
And when Tessa denied knowing him…
Well, that had been the last straw. Any thought of sliding by the pair unnoticed had fled in a rush of anger.
Except he’d seen something flit through Tessa’s eyes when she turned and saw him standing there. Dismay? Horror? Guilt? He couldn’t place what it had been exactly, but he refused to believe what had come to mind when he’d first seen that look: pain.
There’d been no pain in the tight lips and steady gaze on the day he’d shown up on her doorstep, only to have her confirm they were through. If anyone should have felt pain back then, it had been him. Things had been tense between them for the last six months of their relationship, but he’d never dreamed she’d been that unhappy. Unless it had been about the money all along. Except she’d returned his bracelet.
His teeth clenched until his jaw ached. He’d been over and over this years ago and had come up empty.
Someone else came into the lounge and cleared her throat, making him realize a woman was waiting, pen in hand, to sign up for something. He took a couple of steps back and let her take his place.
His gaze cut back to the name of the local capoeira studio. Did Tessa still train there? When they’d been together, she’d sent him a handwritten invitation, asking him to come and learn a little more about her Brazilian heritage. He’d accepted without hesitation. And it had been worth it. Watching her work out inside the circle they called a roda had been beyond sexy—the intricate, flowing moves had highlighted the lean lines of her body and made capoeira look more like a dance than a true martial art.
He’d soon learned differently. It was just as passionate and fiery as Tessa was—and just as proud.
He shook himself back to the present as the attractive brunette finished writing her name and turned toward him with a smile, her dark eyes skipping over him. “Thanks. Better get in there and choose something. Pickings are getting mighty slim.”
“So it would seem.” He managed to return her smile, although the last thing he wanted to do was engage in small talk with a member of the opposite sex. He’d been burned twice now. Maybe he should have become a priest, like his cousin.
Except he did like women. He just didn’t have the knack for long-term relationships, evidently. That was one gene his parents—married for thirty-five years now—hadn’t passed down to him.
“See ya,” the brunette said with yet another smile, although she didn’t try to introduce herself, as Tessa’s friend had. He was just as glad.
“Yep. Good luck with that.” He nodded toward the board.
“You, too. Maybe we’ll wind up volunteering for the same thing.”
That was probably meant as a hint, but since Clay hadn’t even noticed what she’d signed up for, she was out of luck. “Maybe.”
She exited the room, leaving Clay to stare at the sheet again and wonder about Tessa and the studio. Especially when he looked closer and noticed that she hadn’t signed up for anything, either, although the list of businesses didn’t have slots for sign-ups. They must be using their own people in the rented booths.
It didn’t matter. How hard could an hour or two of volunteer work be? He could always sign up for the cleanup crew, which still had several time periods available. That way he wouldn’t have to interact with anyone.
But right now all he wanted to do was get to work and forget about his encounter with a certain redhead.
Except that a few parts of Clay were still smoldering from seeing her again. Time to remedy that. The sooner he could locate his mental fire extinguisher and douse those areas with a mixture of foam and water, the better it would be. For both of them.
CHAPTER THREE
WHERE WAS HIS EX-WIFE?
Clay sat in the hospital cafeteria with Molly and listened to his daughter chatter on about all she’d done with Grandma and Grandpa yesterday evening. He couldn’t hold back a sigh as she bounced in her chair and scooped up a bite of fruit from her plate.
His parents had been stoic all during his divorce, although they must have been disappointed in him for not working harder to make things work. He’d tried. Hell, he’d never expected his marriage to end in divorce any more than they had. But nothing he’d tried had worked. He’d compromised on where he’d practiced medicine to be closer to the house. He’d taken on the bulk of Molly’s care when she’d been a baby. He’d even gone to marriage counseling.
And yet here he sat.
His biggest failures in life, it seemed, had to do with women.
One thing his mom and dad had been overjoyed about had been getting the chance to be deeply involved in their granddaughter’s life. And it seemed yesterday had been no exception—with the trio heading out to Central Park for a walk with their Dalmatian, Jack.
He glanced at his watch, his impatience growing. Lizza was almost a half hour late, and he was supposed to be at work in a few more minutes. He’d been hoping to have a little time to get to know the ropes before jumping right into his morning rounds. But it looked as if that wasn’t going to happen.
Out of the corner of his eye he spied a familiar figure at the checkout counter. Only it wasn’t Lizza. He groaned out loud.
“What is it, Daddy?”
He pulled his attention back to his daughter’s blue eyes. “Nothing. I was just thinking about work.”
“Oh. Okay. Do I have to go to Mommy’s?”
The same question had been repeated for the past two visits. Clay didn’t know what to do about it. Lizza traveled for weeks at a time, visiting European fashion houses in search of ideas for new designs. Molly hadn’t spent more than a handful of weekends with her mom in the past year. And Lizza didn’t help by being so fastidious about her house and furniture. Molly wasn’t even three and a half yet. She needed to be a kid. But he’d learned to keep his mouth shut, as long as his ex didn’t do anything to damage their daughter’s self-esteem.
So he settled for a response that he hoped was conciliatory. “Mommy would be sad if you didn’t.”
“I know.” Said with a sigh that made his gut clench.
If someone had told him four years ago that after his breakup with Tessa he’d have rebound
sex that would result in a pregnancy and marriage, he’d have said that person was out of their gourd. And yet here he was. Only he was crazy about his daughter. So were his parents. It made all the crap he’d put up with from Lizza bearable.
He looked back toward the checkout area just as Tessa turned around, scanning the place for a spot to sit. It was breakfast time and the place was packed with medical personnel, all scarfing down a quick bite before facing a new day.
Her glance skidded past his and then stopped for a long second, her green eyes closing for a brief instant before reopening and sliding back his way again. She gave him a quick nod and then kept looking for someplace to sit.
Only there wasn’t any.
Come on, Lizza. Hurry up.
In the meantime, he couldn’t leave Tessa standing there, so he motioned her over. He could have sworn her mouth gave a pained grimace before she moved in their direction. He had no doubt if there had been any other person in the place that she knew, she would have gone to sit with them instead.
He was her last choice.
Well, some things never changed.
She set her tray next to Molly’s, her brows coming together slightly, although she didn’t ask the question he knew had to be swirling around her head.
His daughter had no such inhibitions. “I’m Molly. Who are you?”
Tessa blinked. “I’m Dr. Camara. How are you?”
“I’m waiting on my mommy.”
His stomach tightened again. Left with no other choice, he made the introductions. “Tessa, this is my daughter.”
“Is she your friend?” Molly asked.
“An old friend, yes.” He looked at Tessa and dared her to correct him. She didn’t, dropping into the chair across from him instead.
“That’s right. Your dad and I knew each other a long time ago when we were both in school.”
“Oh. Did you know Mommy, too?”
Tessa’s teeth came down on her lower lip for a minute. “No. I didn’t. Is your mom a doctor?”
“No, she makes pretty dresses and fancy clothes.”
Tessa’s body language changed, fingers clenching on her tray for a second before finally letting go and picking up her glass of juice. “How lucky for you. You must have all kinds of wonderful outfits.”
Only she didn’t make it sound as if Molly was lucky at all. There was an edge of sadness that made him look at her a little bit closer. He didn’t voice the question in his head, however. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”
“I have a Mohs procedure to assist with today.”
Interesting.
“Mohs? Are you specializing in plastic surgery?” The famed technique, named after its inventor, was used on skin lesions. Lesions that were normally cancerous.
She took a sip of her drink and then shook her head. “Dermatologic surgery. But I hope to do a fellowship in Mohs.”
He’d thought her plans had been to go into craniofacial surgery. “That’s quite a jump, isn’t it?”
“Things change.”
“They absolutely do.” He couldn’t hold back the sardonic note to his voice.
He and Tessa stared across the table at each other for several seconds as the atmosphere around them began to crackle with tension.
No. It wasn’t tension. It was the distinctive clickety-clack of a pair of high heels moving quickly across the space.
“Mommy’s coming.” His daughter’s whispered words had a fatalistic sound to them.
He swiveled around in his chair to find that Lizza was indeed headed their way, her perfectly made-up face a huge contrast to Tessa’s unadorned freckles and simple style. Tessa wasn’t the only one who’d made a huge leap from one specialty to another. The difference between his two exes could give a psychologist enough material to fill a volume or two.
Lizza stopped beside their table, brows lifting slightly in question, while Tessa looked as if she wanted to drop off the face of the earth.
Join the club, honey.
“Hello, Clayton.”
She’d always used his full name, rather than the shortened version. He’d liked it at first, because it had been yet another thing that had unlinked him from Tessa, but after a while her formality had worn thin. As had those stupid air-kisses she insisted on giving to everyone. Even as he thought it, she bent down and made a popping sound beside Molly’s cheek that never made contact. Neither did his ex attempt to embrace her daughter.
His molars ground together.
No wonder Molly had such a difficult time bonding with her. His parents were all about hugs and real, down-to-earth kisses.
When he stood, though, Lizza made no effort to lean into his cheek as she normally did. Probably because she was now looking at Tessa.
He wasn’t going to get out of introducing them, evidently. Perfect. He glanced at his watch. And now he was five minutes late for his shift. “Lizza, this is an old friend from medical school, Tessa.”
Tessa murmured that she was happy to meet her, while his ex did nothing but reach for Molly’s hand. “Are you ready to go, sweetie? Mommy has some important phone calls to make.”
His hands curled at his sides, although he tried to rein in his temper. “Are you sure you have time for her this weekend? I could always drop her back off at Mom and Dad’s place.”
“It’s my weekend.” Said as if Molly were simply one more appointment on an already busy calendar.
His chest ached. Molly didn’t even have a suitcase, since his ex had a second wardrobe and toys for their daughter at her house. She would launder Molly’s current clothes and return her to him in them. Lizza insisted on keeping their households entirely separate. Shades of Tessa and her unwillingness to accept anything from him.
Maybe the women were more alike than he’d thought.
Clay squatted in front of Molly. “I’ll see you Monday morning, chipmunk.”
One of Lizza’s heels clicked in that way she did when she was annoyed at something. Too damn bad.
His daughter threw her arms around his neck. “Love you, Daddy. Be good.”
“Aren’t I always?” He tweaked one of her braids.
A second later, Lizza and his daughter were headed toward the hospital entrance. A couple of masculine heads turned toward his ex-wife. She was beautiful, he acknowledged, with long blond hair and a delicate bone structure, although he now saw it as a brittle kind of grace that didn’t stand up to pressure.
When he examined his feelings about other men ogling her, he found he didn’t care. He’d stopped caring when she’d accidentally forwarded texts to his phone from another man. Someone in Italy that she evidently met up with whenever she was there, despite having a young daughter at home. All that money on counseling for nothing.
The only thing he was grateful to her for was that she’d signed over primary custody of Molly to him without batting an eyelid, saying that with her schedule it was probably for the best.
He couldn’t agree more.
Dropping back in his seat, he noticed that Tessa was studying her bowl of oatmeal as if it were fascinating.
He blew out a breath. “And how has your morning been?”
The smile he expected didn’t come. Instead, she swirled her spoon through the mixture in her bowl.
“It must be embarrassing to have her meet me.”
“It was a little different than introducing two colleagues at a medical conference, I’ll give you that.”
This time her head came up, eyes flashing, color seeping into her face. “You could have pretended not to know me.”
“Why would I do…?” He frowned. “You think I’m embarrassed by you?”
He glanced at his watch for a third time and found that five minutes late had morphed into fifteen. He didn’t have time to hash this out with her right now. Not that it even mattered.
Tessa had always had a chip on her shoulder about money or anything associated with it—that probably extended to Lizza’s display of expensive clothing.
/> It wasn’t as if she was poor, her parents did well enough for themselves, even if his grandmother’s memorial fund had helped pay for her education. Their parents were good friends—they’d worked together for years. When Tessa’s parents had realized they weren’t going to be able to help her achieve her dreams, his mom and dad had quietly stepped in to help. They were generous people—it was what they did.
In the past, Clay would have tried to smooth things over with her. Right now, however, he was out of both time and patience.
Standing to his feet, he looked down at her. “I think you’ve got it backward, sweetheart. You always acted like you were the one embarrassed, not me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t suppose you do.” Time to leave. But first there was a little itch he just had to scratch. “Before I forget, I saw the capoeira studio on the list of businesses involved with the festival.”
She nodded. “They’re putting on an exhibition to garner interest.”
“Are you participating in it?” Why he’d asked that, he had no idea.
This time her answer came even slower. “I am.”
“You always were good. I’ll have to stop by the studio sometime.”
He tried to stop the memory of Tessa’s long, lithe movements as she trained in capoeira from crowding his head, but it was too late—the memories were too vivid… and too raw.
A tightening sensation in his gut—as well as her less-than-enthusiastic response—told him it was time to get out while the getting was good.
So he cut the conversation short with a quick wave and a “Have a nice day” thrown in for good measure.
As it was, Tessa was the only one with the slightest chance of that happening. Because, between his first ex and his second, his day was well and truly shot.
The foot connected with her cheek with a sharp smack.
Down Tessa went in a tangle of arms and legs.
Marcos was immediately kneeling beside her. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. Where is your head, moça?”
