Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) (23 page)

“Dr. Williams?”

I turned around and
couldn’t believe my eyes. Jeff was calling me in front of my colleagues. “Good
God,” I whispered when I came close enough for him to hear my whisper, “what do
you want?”

“I just wanted to let you
know that I’ll probably take you on next week.”

I was stunned. I hadn’t
expected to be transferred to another department, and so soon either. “You mean
it? What about my working with Elizabeth? Is she okay with me leaving her?”

“I am not privy to the
Board’s reasons for the change, Dr. Williams. Just be ready for a week, at
least, of grilling.”

“Well, thanks for the
heads-up. I appreciate it. Anything else?” I was keen to return to my table. I
knew all eyes were on us.

“No, nothing for the time
being.”

I nodded, turned around
and rejoined my friends.

Of course, I was
bombarded with questions. I didn’t feel it was right for me to preempt Dr.
Kerry’s change of schedule or relating our conversation to anyone at this time.
I just told my companions that Dr. Aldridge might want me in surgery next week.

“You know,” Gerald
remarked then, “he’s quite a good teacher. He gets right into it and nothing
will disturb him. No need to try talking to him while he’s got that scalpel in
his hand; I think he would slash your throat if you did.”

“You mean he’s fierce
while he works?” Corey asked.

“Something like that,
yes,” Gerald said. “It’s like he’s another person when he gets into the
theater. This afternoon, I noticed it. He pushed the doors open and then he
shut up. After that, no wasted word escaped his mouth. His requests to the
nurses were crystal clear. No hesitation anywhere.”

The rest of the day was
spent in visiting the two patients after they regained consciousness and for
their surgeon to re-assure them that everything had gone according to plan. I
had to wonder about Jeff’s breath of experience. In that one day, he had
performed two extremely different surgical procedures on totally divergent
parts of the body. Generally, a specialist will perform surgery on the part of
the body he knows best, practically blindfolded, but rarely do you see any
surgeon tackling two different types of surgery at any time, especially not on
the same day.

Dr. Kerry discussed this
a little that evening when we gathered for our powwow.
 
She said we had to expect that some of the surgeons
were going to be top professional in their fields without any versatile
faculty. “They know one thing; practice one kind of medicine and that is the
extent of their knowledge. On the other hand, some physicians are endowed of
amazing talents. They can perform spinal surgery in the morning and an
appendectomy after lunch. Their versatility is admirable.” I had to agree with
that assessment.

When we went down the
elevator, Tiffany said that she would be going to the supermarket and getting
the bacon for Mrs. Camborne.

“I’ll see you at home a
little later then,” I answered as she pressed the parking lot button.

“Yeah. Let’s have some
fish tonight, okay?” she suggested.

I was all for that idea.
I had had enough of restaurant meals, fast food and ice-cream to last me for a
month, at least. “Perfect. I’ll defrost a couple of sole fillets and get the
spaghetti going.”

“Perfect,” I heard her
say when the elevator doors closed on her.

I was rushing out of the
hospital when I saw Jeff waiting for me in front of the door but across the
street. He knew, of course, that I would cross the park to go home.

“Now, Dr. Aldridge,” I
said, as I came closer to him. “Fancy meeting you here. What can I do for you?”

“You can let me drive you
home for one thing.” He smiled.

“Okay, that would be
nice, as long as we don’t take the long way around the city.” I laughed. “But
you said: ‘for one thing’; what’s the other thing then?”

“I’d like to take you out
on Saturday.”

My mouth fell open. Then
I closed it. Not knowing what to say, I turned my head toward the door of the
hospital door. Elizabeth came out and waved. Jeff saw her, same as I did, and
waved back. Talk about an awkward moment. I didn’t know if I should have waved,
say hello, or what the heck I should have done. I felt silly.

And then Elizabeth
yelped, “See you at home, Jeff. Don’t be too late!”

Good
God,
I thought,
so he
was telling me the truth about living with her still.

As I was about to ask him
what this was all about, Jeff grabbed my face with both his hands and kissed
me. When he released me, I felt dazed.

“So, will you go out with
me next Saturday?” he asked as if nothing had just occurred.

“You, I mean, you and me
going out officially?” I blurted. “How could you ask that? Do you realize
you’re wife just waved at you and told you that she’ll see you at home? Or was
I imagining the whole thing?”

“I told you what’s
happening between me and my wife, Heather. Why do you have to dredge up the
same old conversation again? I am married; I told you that. I am on my way to a
divorce and I can’t leave my wife unless I want to become a pauper the next
day. Can I make things any clearer for you?”

“I don’t think it will be
necessary, Jeff. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t, I agree. As for going out
with you on Saturday, perhaps I will regret it, but, my answer is yes, I will
go out with you.” I smiled. “As long as we don’t go back to the retro-parlor.
I’ve had my fill of jukebox music and ice-cream for a while.”

Jeff looked absolutely
delighted. “Alright then!” he practically yelled for everyone to hear. “Now,
let’s get you home before the boogie man comes out.”

Chapter
25

When Saturday came
around, I was as nervous as a teenager on her first date. I had bought a new
dress, nothing expensive mind you, but something other than my work clothes or
jeans and t-shirts. When I showed it to Tiffany, her only comment was, “As long
as you’re sure he deserves you, it looks great.”

Tiffany was not happy
with me. When I came home the Monday night and told her what happened in front
of the hospital doors–Jeff’s wife waving at him and saying that she’ll see him
at home–she told me that she thought I was a fool. “You’re going to get hurt,
Hattie. That’s all there is to it.”

I nodded. “You’re
probably right. It’s just that I can’t resist him. He’s like a magnet to me. I
must have something screwed up in my brain, because I know that everything you
tell me is absolutely true. I shouldn’t even talk to the man. Yet, I do. Every
time he calls on me; I go running to him, my tail wagging.”

“See? Even you admit that
you’re acting like an obsessed woman.”

“I don’t deny it, Tiff. I
just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to push him away.”

By the end of the week
the conversation was getting stale. It smelled to high heaven. I was even scared
to broach the subject of Jeff with Tiffany. She was ready to send me packing, I
was sure.

But, this was the day I
was going on a date with Dr. Jeff Aldridge. It felt right. Perhaps that’s the
wrong thing to say. It felt right to go out and have a good time, but it felt
wrong because my date was a definite two-timer.

I was waiting in front of
the building’s entrance when Jeff pulled up. Since the weather had cooled off
considerably in the last couple of weeks, he had replaced the hard top on his
car. It was still looking as sleek and expensive as ever. Thank goodness it
wasn’t snowing yet. I would have hated to walk on ice in my stiletto heels.
But, although the air was cool, it was still dry.

We drove in relative
silence. I truly didn’t know what to say. During the week, I had resumed
working with Elizabeth without any incident or even any awkwardness. If the
shoe had been on the other foot, I think I would have kicked the intern out of
my department the day after observing her talking to my husband. However, the
shoe was still on Elizabeth’s foot, and she was handling the whole matter
magnificently. We had lunch on a couple of occasions when waiting for an organ
or a patient to be admitted. We talked mostly about the cases in hand at the
moment–and nothing was said about her observing us in the park.

Obviously, she was either
totally disinterested in Jeff’s actions or she was unaware of his philandering.
Either way, I was looking forward to be working somewhere else. I felt as if I
was handling a case of dynamite while walking a tight rope across a ravine.
Uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I hope you like Italian
cuisine,” Jeff finally said, “because I made reservation at one of the best
Italian restaurants in the city. I just remembered you enjoyed it in New York.”

“Yeah, I do. I like most
cuisines as long as it’s not—”

“Ice-cream; I know,” he
finished for me. We both laughed.

“And after the
restaurant, what have you planned for us?” I was curious.

“Can it be a surprise?”
he asked, turning his head briefly to me.

“Sure, why not. I just
hope I won’t get too drunk not to realize where I am, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay. I promise to
tell you before you get too drunk to understand where we’re going, how’s that?”

“Perfect,” I replied.

I was getting a little
more relaxed about the whole thing. I was not entirely at ease yet, though. I
still imagined some guy following us and taking pictures of us–typical P.I.
stuff–sort of thing. All the sordid business generally surrounding divorces and
custody battles annoy me, I must say. To me, if two people fall out of love,
they should part amicably. Move on after they cry their eyes out, but for
heaven sake’s, let’s not drag the suffering for any length of time. It’s not
only silly, but also completely absurd.

As soon as we arrived in
front of the restaurant, the busboy (I suppose) opened my door and took my hand
to help me out of the car, while the valet took the car keys from Jeff.

We entered the restaurant
as if we were married for years. I felt comfortable hanging on Jeff’s arm. He
was such a handsome, elegant and courteous man, I had no problem walking beside
him.

Once the
maitre
d’ had shown us to our table, I smiled. “Thank you
for bringing me here, Jeff. This is wonderful,” I told him, looking over the
menu. His face was the picture of contentment.

“Thank you for accepting
to go out with me, Heather. I thought you might refuse, because of what
happened in front of the hospital.”

“And I would have said
no, if you hadn’t kissed me.” I continued reading the menu.

“Have I that much effect
on you?” he asked as innocently as he could.

“Don’t play games, Jeff.
You know you have me wrapped around your little finger. I must have hit my head
somehow when I met you, because something snapped then. I cannot resist you.”

The meal was delicious
and the wine inebriating. But I have to say, I wasn’t drunk. I seemed to handle
my liquor a lot better those days. Then it was time for Jeff to tell me where
we were going next.

“We’re not driving very
far,” he declared. “I rather spend a lot of time with you in my arms than
driving miles around the city.” I frowned. “We’re going to the Hyatt.”

Oh
whoa
,
I thought.
That means we’re spending half
the night, if not the whole night together.
I swallowed hard. “Are you
saying you’ve booked a room?”

“A suite. Remember, you
insisted on spending the night in a suite the first time we met.”

“But this is different,
surely,” I argued.

The valet was bringing
the car to us. No time for chitchat.

Once the car doors had
closed on us, Jeff slid over to the passenger side and kissed me. I couldn’t
say another word.

To say the night was
incomparable would be a lie. We made love until we were both spent. I enjoyed
every minute of his delicate touch, his tremendous power over me, and his
gentle licking and kissing.

I reached home at 5:00 a.m.
on Sunday. I tiptoed to my room and plopped on my bed–exhausted but strangely
happy. I was satisfied. Replete, almost.

I took a quick shower and
slipped under the cover. Within seconds, I was asleep.

In the morning–I mean two
hours later–Tiffany knocked on my door. I woke up with a start.

“Are you jogging?” she
asked, poking her head from behind the door.

“No, sorry, not this
morning, Tiff. I’ll make breakfast,” I groaned.

By the time she closed
the door, I was asleep again.

It was past eleven when I
finally emerged from the depth of my bed. I looked at the clock and plopped my
head back on the pillow when I vaguely remembered that I had promised Tiffany
to cook breakfast.

A half-an-hour later, I
was dressed and ready to tackle the day. I still felt a little woozy from the
wine, but not really hung-over.