The Surgeon's Christmas Wish Page 7
Five o’clock. The lifts closed around now and she could safely shut up the clinic. Night skiing didn’t begin until much later in the season and the sun had all but disappeared for the day. Most people in Deer Creek, heck, across the country, would be sitting down to plates laden with turkey, sweet potatoes and gravy about now. Just thinking about it made her mouth water. And pumpkin pie! No. Pecan. No. Pumpkin.
Both.
Her stomach grumbled. Where had she put that muffin?
Tara pushed herself up from her desk chair, fairly certain she’d left the bakery bag on the reception desk. After Fraser had left, a steady flow of patients had kept her away from the baked goods and, to be honest, she’d felt too overwhelmed by their—um—face-to-face encounter to eat. Suddenly she was ravenous.
Without looking, she knew there was only a scrap of old cheese and a none-too-inviting banana sitting in her refrigerator. If she was lucky there might be a spoonful or two of luxury ice cream lurking in the freezer behind the ice-cube trays. The hotel would be booked out. Not that she fancied sitting on her own in the midst of dozens of happy families celebrating Thanksgiving together. She sifted through the fliers spread out on the low table in the reception area by the sofa. Surely there had to be something last minute.
A red flyer poked through the array of papers. Tara pinched it between her fingers and held it up for inspection. What have we here?
“Turkey Burgers and Beer at Bobby’s Tavern”
Great—sounded perfect. If she couldn’t have roast turkey and all the trimmings, a big juicy burger at Bobby’s, along with one of her unread medical journals, would be the perfect anecdote to the Thanksgiving blues.
*
“That’ll just be a few minutes, Tara, all right?” The chef and proprietor of Bobby’s offered her a toothy grin and nodded in the direction of the quieter lounge. “I know where to find you.”
“Thanks, Bobby. You know me too well!” She took the icy glass of locally brewed ale from the counter, gathered her armful of magazines and headed away from the television that was blaring football scores across the sparsely populated bar. A smile played across her lips. Bobby knew the real Tara. The relaxed, fun-loving doctor who adored life up here in Deer Creek. Not the mood-swinging woman who was reacting to all of the button-pushing done by her latest hire.
Tara flopped down into one of the long sofas facing the massive stone fireplace. Who was she kidding? The Tara Bobby knew was a “new” Tara as well. More cautious. Less trusting. A lone she-wolf forging a new life for herself up here in the mountains. And up until about forty-eight hours ago...it had been absolutely perfect.
She set her beer down on the thick wooden table and grabbed a couple of cheesy-looking elk cushions. She punched some air back into them before settling back into the sofa with her magazine. Now that’s more like it.
The side lounge of Bobby’s was the perfect anecdote to a day that had frazzled just about every one of Tara’s nerves. Worn leather sofas, mashed-up cushions with mountainscapes or amusing depictions of elk or bears stuffed in the corners and, of course, a merrily burning fire.
She slipped her boots off and tucked her woolen-socked feet beneath her. A few flicks through her medical journal and she would be back in a good place. Tara let her eyes run down the table of contents to cherry-pick the medical innovations and news she would read about for a Thanksgiving treat. A familiar name caused her to catch her breath and sit upright.
It was her ex. What was he doing in the journal? Taking more credit for her medical advancements, no doubt. Heart racing, Tara swept through the pages until she reached the article that had mentioned his name: “New Orthopedic Technique at Standstill.”
Her eyes tore through the article and it wasn’t until she exhaled at the final sentence that she realized she’d been holding her breath.
So. Her ex was getting his comeuppance. Not that she’d wanted revenge. Just honesty. Looks like he hadn’t even been truthful enough with the medical community to admit he didn’t know how to utilize the innovative research he had presented as his own. Either that or he couldn’t find another researcher as naively trusting as she had been. Now his funding was being pulled and his so-called “intellectual property” was up for grabs. Not so smart after all, were we Professor?
She read the article again and felt her medical brain begin to kick into action. She could see where he’d gone wrong, why his approach to her surgical technique hadn’t moved forward. Her fingers twitched, involuntarily longing to get back to work on her project. If only there was a hospital nearby that would let her begin to put what she’d researched in the lab into practice, she was sure she could make advances. Positive she could make it a worthwhile investment.
“Your burger, madam?”
Tara’s senses, already on high alert, were well aware Bobby hadn’t suddenly acquired a Scottish accent. A Scottish accent that sent a torrent of sensation waterfalling down her spine.
“I didn’t realize you’d found yourself a new job.”
“I wasn’t under the impression I needed one,” Fraser shot back, before putting on a comically frightened face as he set down a basket overflowing with French fries and a mammoth turkey burger. Uuuurgh! Why did he have to show up now? Just when she could’ve done with some alone time rather than being made to feel like an ogre! Or was life telling her something else? Was it time to let someone in?
Tara drew a hand across her forehead and felt her top teeth pull at her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Fraser. I just—I’ve just had a bit of bad news.”
“May I?” His voice was quiet as he gestured at the seat across from her. Only then did she notice he was carrying a second burger basket and a precariously balanced pint of local ale.
Here goes nothing!
“You’re welcome but I can’t guarantee I’ll be the best company tonight.”
“Better some company than no company.”
She watched as he settled himself into the over-stuffed armchair after sliding his burger onto the table between them. He looked across at her with a level of sincere concern that was almost too much to bear. She really needed a friend right now. Could she trust him with this? He was, at the very least, a medical professional and would understand her plight. This situation wasn’t just professional, though. It was about her ex. It was about her failure to know she was being used.
Not wanting to risk being distracted by those ridiculously blue eyes just yet, she looked down into the appetizing basket in front of her and tugged out a couple of French fries.
“Would you like to tell the doctor about it?”
Fraser’s voice was teasing but Tara could hear the genuine kindness behind it. How could she confide in the man who had torn up her no-contact-with-men rulebook and thrown it to the winds? Wasn’t this history repeating itself?
No. It was work. Her work. Well...and some feelings. All she had to do now was trust in Fraser. Professionally. Carpe diem!
“All right. You seem like a man who likes a challenge.” She leveled her gaze with his. “What do you know about distraction osteogenesis?”
*
Fraser listened intently as Tara poured out her story. The lauded research post, the mind-numbing hours of work leading to the theft of her innovations and the collapse of what she had thought was to be a lifelong partnership—both professional and personal. It explained a lot and he felt for her. When she had been vulnerable, she had trusted in someone to the point that he had effectively taken control of her life. From the looks of things, Tara was working as hard as possible to make sure that never happened again. Fraser scrubbed at his chin as her words hit home. Hell. He could give her training lessons. He could teach a Ph.D course in how to avoid getting involved ever again.
He watched as Tara distractedly pulled another French fry through the puddle of ketchup she had made in the corner of her basket. Those slender fingers had been caressing his neck not more than a few hours earlier. He tipped his head from side to side, trying to sh
ake away the memory. Too good. Too close. Too dangerous.
As if awoken from her thoughts by his movement, Tara looked up at him with a rueful grin and grabbed her burger. “So, that, my friend, is the story of my life.” She took an enormous bite of the turkey burger and through the meat, tomatoes, onions and poppy-seed bun managed to get out the words, “Happy Thanksgiving!”
He chuckled and grabbed his own burger. The girl had fire, there was no doubt about it. And what had happened to her was wrong. Plain and simple. Her ideas were groundbreaking. Impressive. She deserved to get credit for her work. Not have them caught up in the world of funding and intellectual property.
“Have you spoken to anyone else about this?” He put his burger down and took a swig of beer, his mind on overdrive.
“No. Not really. Well, no. You’re the first.” Tara lifted her eyes to his. Fraser felt himself shifting in his seat as he watched her top two teeth take hold of her lower lip for a little tug. This whole “friends” gig was definitely going to be a challenge.
“I don’t know if I would have shown as much restraint if I had been in your shoes.”
“Saying something would’ve felt like crying wolf. After all, I had been working in his lab with his funding and everyone knew I was his girlfriend. I’m pretty sure that’s all they saw—the girlfriend part.”
“Oh, I’m sure they saw a lot more than that.” Fraser pulled the pickles out of his burger to avoid another chocolate-river journey into those dark eyes of hers. Her ex was a fool. If he found himself worthy of winning someone like Tara’s love, the last thing on his mind would be undermining her. She was an intelligent and talented doctor as well as a knockout beauty. Whoever didn’t see that right off the bat wasn’t really worth wasting brain cells on. He felt a growing swell of indignation that she had been wronged. Not to mention frustration that her research was at a standstill.
“It doesn’t really matter now. Two years have passed and it looks like I’m enjoying a bit of kismet.”
Her comment was flippant but Fraser could see there was more to it. “But when I came in you said you’d bad news.”
“The bad news is that the research has come to a standstill because the silly dolt couldn’t figure out how to progress beyond the point I had reached and he’s going to lose his funding if he can’t make it commercially viable.” She collapsed her head into hands and gave it a sound shake. “I was foolish not to cover my bases. Protect myself.” Looking back up at Fraser, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparked with passion. “Don’t you see? If I hadn’t been so gullible as to believe he loved me for me and not just for how I could improve his career, all those people who are in genuine need of this technique would be getting it right now!”
“You mean you’d never go back into that world again?”
“No.”
There was no questioning that response. Tara’s lips were tight and her entire body poised itself defiantly, as if daring Fraser to challenge her. Then, in an instant, she softened and leant back into the sofa, folding her long legs beneath her.
“No, that’s not right either. I love the research, but I also love my life here, having hands-on impact for the patients.” And hiding away from the rest of the world.
“I thought you said you had a good relationship with the hospital down in the Valley. Wouldn’t it be worth enquiring whether you could start again? See if they could plump for the intellectual rights?”
“No. I don’t do schmoozing.”
“Oh, I see.” Fraser leant back in his chair and appraised her with an irritating know-it-all look. “So you’re perfectly happy for your ex to fall flat on his face—but equally happy to let all of the patients who could benefit from your technique suffer.”
“Not at all!” How could someone be so maddening and so right all at the same time? “It’s just that I...” Tara felt herself wavering now. Of course what Fraser was saying made sense. Not continuing with her research wasn’t just hurting her, it was hurting patients. She had invested so much of herself and letting it all fall by the wayside seemed foolish. On top of that, the work absorbed her. Fuelled her.
“It’s just that you...” Fraser nodded encouragingly. The man may be completely gorgeous, but he was also one heck of a listener. What was it? What was the truth behind her reticence to do her research again?
I’m scared.
“I guess I hadn’t thought of being able to do it on my own.”
“You wouldn’t be, you silly goose!”
Fraser slapped the arm of his chair and took a big gulp of his ale. He seemed to really be enjoying her plight. Or was he problem-solving? Perhaps it was the marine in him coming out. If so, the military had lost quite an asset when he’d taken to the slopes.
“You won’t have your fancy New York security blanket of the establishment behind you, but who cares?”
Tara took a look on either side of her and raised her hand. “Me—it’s me who cares.”
“Well, of course you do,” Fraser continued, a huge smile on his face. “It’s your project, but can’t you see you’re in the perfect position to carry on your research exactly where you are? Think of yourself as David and the New York set as Goliath.”
“I don’t follow.” Not by a long shot, but the Fraser you are right now, he’s much more my style.
“Here...” Fraser held his arms open wide. “Carry on with your work here in Deer Creek. It’s perfect. You’ve got exactly the type of patients needed for treatment. You’ve got doctors coming in and out of the clinic who would have great insight into your project—maybe even help you if you’re in a tight spot, add new perspectives. It’s a great theory you’ve been working on, Tara. All you’ve got to do is put it into practice.”
“Easier said than done, Dr. MacKenzie,” Tara parried, feeling simultaneously wary and fuelled by Fraser’s enthusiasm. She was enjoying the spirited exchange of ideas. As if by some sort of magic, Fraser seemed to have made possible what she had deemed impossible. Then again, these things were difficult. They took time. And a lot of money. “Where do you propose I look for funding? All my money has been going into buying out the rest of the practice from Deer Creek Lodge. That puts the kybosh on anything else.”
“Risky. Why are you putting all your eggs in one basket?”
Tara bridled. He was playing devil’s advocate far too well. Just three seconds ago he had been setting up a research lab here and now the idea of staying on at Deer Creek seemed to repel him. “Because I love it here! Running the clinic makes me happy.”
“Does it, now? Does hiding here in your perfect little mountain resort away from all the big bad medical professionals of New York City truly make you happy?” Fraser pushed himself forward in his seat, locking Tara into a fiery blue gaze.
“A lot happier than flitting about the globe, avoiding whatever it is you’re blocking out makes you!”
The fire burning in Fraser’s eyes dulled in an instant as he raised his glass in a toast.
“Touché, Dr. Braxton.”
“Oh, Fraser. I’m so sorry.” On impulse, Tara reached across the table and took hold of his free hand. “It’s none of my business why you do what you do.”
His silence increased Tara’s concern that she had gone too far. He was right. How he chose to live his life was none of her business. Just as she was crystal clear that being on her own was precisely what she wanted. As if in defiance of her private thoughts, Tara felt a shot of heat run up her arm as Fraser’s thumb brushed over the top of the hand that she had so impulsively reached out to him.
She forced herself to chance a glance into those deep blue eyes of his, trying her best to ignore the intense sensations hot-rodding throughout her body as he continued to run his thumb contemplatively across the back of her hand. Focus on the friendship, Tara. You need a friend right now. Nothing more.
“I suggest, Dr. MacKenzie, that we refresh our glasses and raise them in a Thanksgiving toast to the future. Regardless of what that may be.”
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Fraser increased the pressure on her hand and in a swift move brought it to his lips, where he impressed a kiss upon it. A kiss that caused far too many sensations to flutter their way up, around and throughout Tara’s midsection.
“Only if it includes a race down the Stag’s Leap Black Diamond Run at sunrise.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
Tara turned her hand round in his to give him a solid handshake.
“You’re on.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“HAVE YOU EVER had home-made cranberry sauce with merlot wine?” Liesel didn’t even try to disguise the dreamy expression enveloping her face.
“I have,” she continued, without bothering to wait for a reply.
From the nano-second the two women had opened up the clinic on Friday, Liesel had spent each spare moment between patients recounting every minute detail of what, by all accounts, had been a once-in-a-lifetime meal with Eric and his family.
Thankfully, a hot shower, a side trip to Marian’s and one very large latte had put Tara in a good enough place to take on her smitten friend’s blow-by-blow account of meeting Eric’s siblings, his grandparents, his parents, their dog, a kiss under the newly hung mistletoe and the fact each of the aforementioned were all so fa-a-a-a-bulous they had all teased Eric about asking Liesel to marry him right there at the dinner table.
“Just promise me that whatever happens, you won’t leave me needing a new nurse!” Giving her friend a big hug, Tara couldn’t help but try and squeeze away just the tiniest bit of envy she felt at her friend’s ease with being so publicly and happily in love.
Fraser had been a no-show on the slopes that morning. “Just friends” or not, it had hurt to be stood up. Tara hadn’t realized how much she’d been looking forward to their ski date.
No. Not a date. Just a fun run down the slopes with a friend.
It hadn’t helped that when she’d arrived at the clinic she’d found a note pinned to the door, apologizing for the missed race but saying that he had got up before the sun and thought he’d better go down and explore the valley. Heavy snowfall was expected to move in over the course of the week and Tara knew Fraser was wise to get his bearings now, while he had a chance. It was logical, but it didn’t stop the sting of what felt a little too close to rejection.