Hot Doc from Her Past

by Tina Beckett

  Her head was where it had been for the past two days. On Clay and the thought of him showing up at the studio unannounced, maybe even with his daughter in tow. Or, worse, with his gorgeous-enough-to-be-a-model ex-wife. The one who fashioned clothes like the ones she’d been given all those years ago. That would be the worst. She’d felt like a field mouse next to an exotic cat as she’d sat there in the hospital cafeteria. Surely Clay had compared them as well and wondered why the hell he hadn’t stuck with his wife. Or wondered what he’d seen in Tessa in the first place.

  She shook the thoughts away, angry with herself. She was supposed to be training for the hospital festival. And this was geared to be a demonstration that showed off capoeira’s romantic side, from its circle of constantly switching partners to the cartwheels, spins and beating drums that made the martial art both beautiful and different. It was more about skill than combat nowadays, but it still clung to some of its former roots. As she’d found out on several occasions. Today being one of them.

  One wrong move—or right move, depending on your perspective—and you could take an opponent down. Just as she’d done when she and Clay had been dating, and she’d sent that invitation asking him to come to the studio.

  He’d soon been hooked. In fact, she’d done the batismo ceremony on him—a match where a more advanced capoeirista took down an inexperienced student, formally inducting him into the studio. She’d even presented him with his white cord—the ranking system used by the sport—helping him tie it around his waist. Memories of sweeping his legs out from under him still haunted her dreams on occasion. As did the memory of leaning over him in victory once he’d been flat on his back. His response had made her shiver. With a single raised brow he’d promised retribution later that night.

  And he’d kept that promise. Sweet, sweet retribution that had had her begging for more.

  “Tessa?”

  She blinked back to the present. “Sorry. I just lost my concentration for a second or two.”

  “A second or two?” Several Portuguese swearwords accompanied the question as the owner of the studio stared down at her. “It’s been more like the entire match.” He touched a finger to her still-stinging cheek. “I don’t want you bruised up before the festival. It defeats the purpose of emphasizing the workout benefits of capoeira. Intende?”

  “Yes, I understand. Let’s try again.”

  Marcos helped her up and then motioned for the next person in the circle to join her. “Begin.”

  The percussion instruments set the rhythm once again as Tessa concentrated on the ebb and flow that accompanied her current partner, the feinting and parrying looking almost choreographed. Two minutes later, she was standing back in the ring of participants as someone else danced in to take her place. When it was once again her turn she slid forward, only to find herself on the wrong side of a foot for the third or fourth time. Mortified, she crashed to the mat, wondering if Marcos was going to take away her purple and green cordão and demote her to a lower level.

  He knelt beside her once again. “I think that is enough for today, Tessita.”

  She grimaced. Marcos only resorted to calling her “little Tessa” when he was upset with her. And he had every right to be. She’d trained with him for years and years. He knew exactly what she was capable of. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I do not, either, but when you come back next week, try to make our capoeira look a little less… brutal.”

  Everyone laughed, including Tessa, and the tension eased as he helped her to her feet. She sighed. “Point taken. I’ll work on it.”

  “Good. The festival will be here before we know it.”

  She grabbed her towel from on top of her bag and blotted the sweat from her face and neck. “Four weeks. I know. Maybe I’ll find a few extra hours this week and come in for a private session.”

  “I think that would be good, Tessita.”

  Ugh. Still upset. Well, Marcos wasn’t the only one. She was upset at herself. Ever since her encounter with Clay in the cafeteria she’d been on edge. Something about the way his ex had looked at her, the acid in her gaze making Tessa feel like a criminal of some sort, even though she’d done nothing wrong.

  Well, it was time to put Clay and his ex—and most especially his cute little daughter—from her mind. Once and for all.

  How she was going to do that, though, remained to be seen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HE WAS WATCHING HER.

  Tessa had caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye as she continued to section the diseased skin tissue, teasing it away from healthy cells. The Mohs surgery had been put off for three days due to a cold her patient had developed.

  How had Clay found out when she would be operating? Maybe Brian Perry, her attending cutaneous oncologist, had clued him in. But why would he have done that? Clay was an orthopedic surgeon, a whole different realm than cutaneous surgery.

  She had already marked the surgical site before proceeding and when she lifted the thin layer of tissue and placed it onto a glass slide, she made sure to match the marks so they would know where to continue cutting if the margins weren’t completely clear. Brian glanced down at the site and nodded to the lab assistant. “Once you’re ready, let us know.”

  They would section the tissue sample and stain it, looking for areas that still contained cancer cells. Either Tessa or Brian would then remove more tissue just at the specific location. That way they conserved as much healthy tissue as possible.

  “How are you doing, Mandy?” Her patient was lying on her stomach with her head to one side, but was wide-awake. Mohs surgery was generally done under a local anesthetic. The only hard part was that there was quite a bit of waiting involved if the tumor had roots that went deeper than expected.

  “I’m okay. How’s it coming?”

  “We’ll know in a few minutes.”

  The buzzer at her waistband went off, as did Brian’s. The lab was ready for them to view the slide.

  Tessa was glad to get out from beneath Clay’s stare. She still had no idea why he was there.

  The results under the microscope showed that there was still one area that contained tumor cells. Brian marked the graph they’d been charting to match what they saw on the slide.

  After shaving off two more layers of skin in that area, they finally got the results they were looking for: clear margins. This wasn’t melanoma but a squamous cell tumor on the patient’s lower left back. While not as dangerous as the type of cancer that had killed Tessa’s mom, it could still grow out of control, dividing and penetrating to other organ systems if not caught in time. Fortunately this patient had a known history of skin cancer and had screened herself on a regular basis.

  Sucking down a breath, she peered again at her patient as they got ready to close the surgical site. In a calm voice she explained what they’d done and what to expect, thankful they wouldn’t need to do a skin graft. Even as she hoped Clay had gotten bored and left, he probably hadn’t. She was still stumped as to his presence. Didn’t he have his own patients to attend to?

  Maybe he wanted to discuss something with her. Lord, she hoped not. The last thing she needed after the day she’d had was to do a dissection of a different kind. Especially if it involved their shared past. It had been over four years. There was nothing left to dissect.

  “Looks good, Tessa. I think you got everything. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” The praise should have elated her but she was still on edge over Clay’s appearance.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Brian glanced up at the window, evidently noticing what she had a half hour earlier. “Looks like you had an audience.”

  What did she say to that? I know? Or act as if she had no idea who it was.

  She chose a different route. “Wonder why.”

  “Not sure. If you feel up to finishing on your own, I’ll go see if I can help him with something. Maybe he has a surgery in here afterward and is scoping out
the room. He’s new.” He paused. “I think you’re well on your way to a fellowship in Mohs, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  Just beneath the hum of excitement that went through her at the other man’s words lurked a trill of annoyance. This should have been a moment of triumph for her. She was so close to finishing up her residency. And now a dark specter of the past had to sweep in and ruin it.

  Forget it. You did the surgery. Without any assistance or input, for the very first time. That should be all she was thinking about right now.

  But it wasn’t. And as Brian headed out the door she bit her lip.

  She wasn’t thrilled about her attending going up to chitchat with her ex, but it wasn’t as if she could say anything in a roomful of other medical staff. So she just gritted her teeth and hoped she’d be able to get through the final part of the surgery.

  And she should be proud. Clay had seen she could do this on her own. Just as she’d promised herself. She refrained from glancing up and making sure he actually had seen her finish. But just barely.

  She asked for the suture material, and the surgical nurse handed her the pre-threaded needle. Closing the deeper layers first, she worked her way back up to the surface tissue, stopping from time to time to make sure her patient was doing okay. Fifteen minutes later she was done. Brian hadn’t come back, and she couldn’t bring herself to sneak a peek at the observation room. Instead, she settled for putting the final piece of tape on the gauze and talking to her patient, giving her care instructions and telling her to come back and see Dr. Perry in a week to have her stitches removed. Then she squeezed her shoulder and said her goodbyes.

  Pulling off her surgical loupes and then stripping off her gown and gloves, she dropped everything into the appropriate bins. As if pulled on a string, her head went up, eyes seeking the space above her. It was empty. Clay wasn’t there, and neither was Brian. Disappointment sloshed through her, followed by relief. The relief was what she chose to focus on. Maybe Clay really did need to see her attending for something. Which meant he hadn’t been there because of her. None of that mattered. What mattered was that she could relax.

  She pushed through the door to leave the operating room and pulled the clip from her hair so she could redo it. Except the person who’d been in the suite above her was now just outside the door. Quickly finger-combing her hair and cramming the mass back into the clip, she tried to look nonchalant, although her heart was thumping out a nonsensical rhythm in her chest.

  “Where’s Brian?”

  Stupid question. But it was the only thing she could think of to say at the moment.

  “He said he had another patient and left me here to wait for you.”

  Why would he be waiting for her instead of her attending?

  “Any specific reason?”

  He turned to face her, propping his shoulder against the wall. His face bore no trace of the sardonic amusement she’d come to expect from him. Instead, it was deadly serious. “I talked to my mom last night.”

  At that, Tessa tensed. She and Clay’s parents had maintained a cordial relationship over the years—and despite how uncomfortable it made her feel that they’d shelled out so much money for her education, she was grateful to them. Even after she and Clay had broken up, she’d still had some contact with them. That was until her mom died. She’d barely been able to hold herself together during that time, much less carry on a coherent conversation with anyone outside work. “Oh?”

  His eyes searched her face. “I didn’t know your mother passed away, Tessa.”

  Oh, no. Don’t do this. Not right now. Not here. Especially since the anniversary of her death had just barely passed.

  A sudden rush of moisture coated her lower lids, forcing her to blink several times to hold the flow at bay. “Yes, she did.” Licking her lips, she tried to get away. “I have a couple more patients to see, so if you’ll excuse me…”

  Before she could move past him, though, he reached out and encircled her wrist, his fingers warm and solid against her icy skin. “I’m sorry, Tess. I had no idea. Is that why you changed your specialty?” He nodded toward the double doors of the operating room.

  She decided to cut past all the chatter. “Is it why I went into dermatologic surgery? Yes. I suppose your mom also told you what she died of.”

  “She did.” He let go of her hand and cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb beneath her left eyelid. The compassion in his gaze was so different from the blasé attitude he’d shown in front of his poster in the lobby. Then he’d been all cocky with his confident swagger and veiled references to their past.

  Tessa felt a telling hint of moisture beneath his fingertip and gave an inward curse. She hadn’t quite banished the tears after all.

  Taking a step back, she attempted to break free of his touch. “I decided that the best way to serve her memory was to try to help others like her.” She stiffened her spine just a bit. “Is that why you were watching me? Because of your mom?”

  “You noticed me.” One brow went up.

  The swagger was back.

  Her lips curved despite herself. There was something about this man that did a number on her even after all these years. Did he really think she would miss seeing him there? “It was kind of hard to avoid seeing you, since you were almost directly in front of me.”

  Well, not quite. He’d been off to the side, but she’d gotten used to scanning that observation room, which was used quite a bit by both senior doctors and residents in different stages of their work. So, yeah. She’d spotted him almost right away.

  “It seemed the best place to find you. You float around this hospital like a ghost.”

  A ghost? That was one way of putting it. A ghost on a mission was more like it. She’d caught sight of Clay twice on her floor yesterday and had ducked into a patient’s room to avoid being seen by him.

  Really mature, Tessa.

  “Hospitals keep their residents pretty busy. I’m sure you know that from experience.” The doors opened and her patient was wheeled out by one of the male nurses. That old wheeling-patients-out-of-the-hospital-instead-of-letting-them-walk-out-on-their-own-two-feet rule was still alive and well. This was the perfect opportunity to escape. “I need to go.”

  “I’ll walk with you. Wouldn’t want you disappearing on me again.”

  What?

  “Was there something else you wanted to discuss?” Other than her personal life, that was. She didn’t say it, though, since she wasn’t anxious for anyone to know that she and Clay knew each other in any way other than as a pair of colleagues… casual acquaintances. She let the wheelchair move a few more yards ahead before turning to follow it.

  Clay fell into step beside her. “Yes. Actually, there is.”

  Clay wasn’t sure why he’d gone to the observation room. Maybe out of a sense of nostalgia or morbid curiosity. Or it could be that after his mother told him about Gloria’s death from melanoma, something inside him had needed to tell her he was sorry. Despite all of the ugly stuff that had happened between them at the end of their relationship, he’d never wanted anything bad to happen to her or her family.

  Why hadn’t his mom said anything earlier? Probably because he’d cut her off anytime she’d mentioned Tessa’s name. His parents had never known how angry he’d been that she’d thrown his graduation gift back in his face—because he’d never told them. Still, they’d quickly learned she was a touchy subject, one best avoided altogether. The only reason they’d found out that Tessa was at West Manhattan Saints was because of Molly—who’d mentioned the pretty lady that had sat with them at breakfast.

  They’d been all ears, probably thinking he was dating again.

  Hardly. He was done with marriage, with dating… with women in general.

  Then Tessa’s name had come up. And the news of Gloria’s death had been the first thing out of his mother’s mouth.

  Regret for all he’d said and done streamed through him. It had grown until the weight of needing
to offer his condolences had gotten too heavy. Which was why he was here.

  Except as soon as he’d gotten the words out of his mouth he’d felt the need to counter them with a flip comeback seconds later. Why? And why was it only Tessa who brought out that side of him? He didn’t do the back-and-forth banter stuff with Lizza—he never had. In fact, he avoided speaking with her as much as possible nowadays.

  Tessa was waiting for him to tell her what that other subject he wanted to discuss was. “Remember I asked you about the studio?”

  “Studio?” The way she said it, with studied indifference, told him she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “Your capoeira studio. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think Molly might really like to watch one of the training sessions. And if they’re practicing for an exhibition, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

  She turned to glance at him, her puzzlement obvious. “You know where it is. It hasn’t moved. So why ask me?”

  “I wanted to see if you knew when they were practicing. Marcos—if he’s still there—probably wouldn’t even remember me.”

  And that was the only reason you wanted to see her, right?

  “He’ll remember you.”

  Something about the way she said it made him slow down just a bit. Tessa, probably not even realizing she was doing it, slowed her pace, as well.

  It had been over four years. Surely the studio had had lots of people come and go in that period of time.

  “How do you know he will?”

  Her glance skittered away. “He may have mentioned you once or twice.”

  Ah, yes. Clay could see how that might have been awkward for her: explaining why they’d broken off their relationship and why he would no longer be training at the studio.

  He could have kept going—he liked the sport. But he’d been so angry at Tessa back then, he hadn’t wanted any reminders. Besides, he’d been intent on making a clean break. Seeing her every week at the studio wasn’t exactly the best way to do that.

  “And I’m sure you gave him nothing but glowing reports.”