Just One Look (2 page)

The nurse giggled. "Oh, excuse me, doctor."

Whitney gurgled like the small fountain in the atrium downstairs. She even spouted streams of inanities, he thought. He didn't know what was more annoying--her gushing or her self-important airs.

If the nurse resembled a bubbling fountain, then the patient sitting on the table was a waterspout about to erupt, he thought, turning his attention to her. Except for splotchy red cheeks, her face was completely devoid of color. Her hands gripped the edges of the table as if she'd fall off if she let go. He'd never seen anyone quite so tense before.

"Hi, I'm Matt Penrose." He smiled gently to ease her obvious anxiety and extended his hand to her.

She recoiled from his hand as if it were a poisonous snake. Her hands uncurled from the table's edge and flew to each side of the gaping paper gown. She clutched the two halves together so tightly that he heard the paper rip. His smile faded. What was her problem?

Matt withdrew his hand and pulled a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses out of his shirt pocket. He always used them to present an air of paternal solicitude. They made him look older, wiser. Or so Patricia told him. And his sister was usually pretty savvy about image and stuff like that. As panic-stricken as this patient looked, he hoped the glasses trick worked.

Unfortunately, when he peered through the lenses, he decided that he'd have to be dressed in a purple dinosaur suit like Barney to reassure this woman that he posed no threat to her.

Concerned at her obvious fear, he asked, "Are you all right, Dr. Monroe?"

Her head bobbed up and down like a puppet on a string. The dilated pupils of her eyes made him think of those cartoon children with the big heads and the huge, round, tear-filled eyes, who clutched equally sad-looking kittens.

Matt frowned. This woman had a problem. Never in his experience had he run across anyone so upset about a gynecological exam. Sure, some women were a little tense, a little nervous, but not this overt fear.

He drew up the chrome-based swivel stool and sat in front of her. Perturbed, he tried to be as matter of fact as possible. "According to your chart, Dr. Monroe, you've been seeing Dr. Haddad for four years?" He paused, waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, his frown deepened. Her hostile defensive posture hadn't relaxed since he'd walked into the room. If anything, it had intensified.

Never one to give up easily, Matt tried to get a conversation going between them, but even innocuous comments about the lovely October weather didn't make a dent in her apparent anxiety.

"I understand you're a psychologist, Dr. Monroe." He made his voice as soothing as possible in an effort to reason with her regarding her obvious fear.

Her head moved in a quick jerk. Her eyes hadn't blinked since he'd walked into the room, he thought, studying the pale gray depths with the huge, dilated pupils. He frowned and looked closer. Those eyes. He knew those eyes. He took off the fake glasses and looked again.

"Have we met before?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied her. He tapped the temple of the glasses against his even white teeth.

Her gray eyes grew even wider. The pupils enlarged until her eyes appeared black. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, he thought.

Jennifer shook her head so hard her short, sleek, ash blond hair flew out at right angles to her head. She wished she could crawl into a hole and disappear. Every inch of her skin, naked except for the thin paper gown, seemed to burn with embarrassment. The only thing she could think of was that she had to get out of there before Matt recognized her.

"Odd." His brow furrowed in thought. "Something about you seems familiar."

I should assert myself, Jennifer thought, terrified that he would suddenly remember who she was. Just calmly ask him and Nurse Giggles to leave the room so I can get dressed. But she cringed at the thought of telling him that he was right. That they were well-acquainted indeed.

Her first kiss had come from his chiseled lips. Those lips pursed thoughtfully as he studied her. If anything, she thought, his mouth looked even sexier, more inviting, now than when she'd been fourteen.

The paper, clutched in her fists, ripped again as her hands convulsively jerked. The sound seemed extraordinarily loud in the quiet room. Jennifer noticed the nurse giving her an amused, condescending look. She groaned inwardly and glanced at her charcoal gray business suit hung neatly on the peg in the corner of the room. For a moment, she considered jumping off the table, grabbing her clothes and making a mad dash for freedom.

Unfortunately, she could envision the headlines in her mind.
Psychologist streaks north Dallas professional building.

Matt shook his head at the feeling of familiarity. He couldn't place her, nor could he understand her fear. He put his glasses back on and decided to just get on with it. She was supposed to be a trained psychologist. Surely she could control her own emotions and anxiety.

"Well, tell me, Dr. Monroe, have you been having any problems since your last checkup?"

Again, Jennifer shook her head so hard it made her neck hurt. She couldn't seem to find her voice. It was like being trapped in a B movie, she thought, where a chainsaw-wielding psychopath chases a woman, who, of course, falls and twists her ankle. And, as in all such movies, the bosom-heaving woman is so terrified she can't find her voice to scream. Jennifer hated lumping herself in the same category as some wimpy woman who couldn't find the guts to kick a movie psycho in the family jewels.

Why couldn't Matt Penrose have the decency to have a beer gut, she wondered, her eyes sweeping his body quickly. Not even a little paunch, she thought in disgust. And no receding hairline either. She'd have recognized him anywhere. He hadn't changed a bit. No, that wasn't quite true. He'd matured. His muscles had hardened. The lines in his face gave character to his features. Unfortunately, he'd just got sexier and better looking. Fortunately, for her, he hadn't recognized her.

She was too scared that he'd suddenly remember her, and that embarrassing Christmas prom, to be concerned that she had been less than memorable to him. Jennifer felt as if she'd reverted to her insecure youth. Get control of yourself, she scolded, speak up! Otherwise, she'd find herself flat on her back with her feet in the stirrups in a minute. And embarrassed beyond belief. She couldn't let him continue with this.

"Do you examine your breasts regularly?" he asked, looking at her chart.

"What?" Jennifer squawked.

He smiled reassuringly. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

When he stood, she finally found her voice. "Let's not!"

Her near scream stopped him in his tracks. "Now, Dr. Monroe, as a professional, you realize the importance of these checkups, don't you?"

"Of course," she sputtered, certain that she'd melt into a pool of humiliation, roll off the table, and land next to his polished leather loafers. She was certainly hot enough to melt, she thought, knowing a furious blush covered her entire body.

"Then what is the problem?" He smiled patiently and sat back down on the stool. He swiveled gently back and forth and acted as if he had all the time in the world.

"The problem?" Jennifer repeated dumbly, glancing at the nurse who suddenly appeared to be engrossed in the scene playing itself out.

"Yes. The problem. Even modesty shouldn't prevent your getting the medical care you need. Don't you agree?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. Her brain felt so sluggish that she couldn't figure a way out of this sophomoric nightmare. When he stood up again, she scooted back on the table until her back was literally against the wall. "No!" She squeaked.

"Now, Dr. Monroe. Jennifer, if you'll just relax. Take a deep breath and calm down. Let's talk about this."

"Let's not," Jennifer said between chattering teeth. Wildly, she looked around the room for an escape hatch. She said the first thing she could think of. "I need to go to the bathroom."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Very well. Why don't I give you a few minutes to collect yourself?" He turned and opened the door. The nurse preceded him. He closed the door quietly after his departure. Immediately, Jennifer heard gales of laughter from the hallway. She didn't need to see what was happening to know that Nurse Giggles was having a hell of a laugh.

Resentfully, she leaped off the table and ripped the paper gown off. If only she had a sack she could put over her head so no one would recognize her when she made her escape, she thought. She'd never be able to come back here again. Too bad. She'd liked Sylvia Haddad. But she'd never be comfortable knowing that Matt Penrose was here too.

When Sylvia's receptionist had called to tell Jennifer that a different doctor would be seeing her, a respected OB/GYN who was going into practice with Sylvia, Jennifer had thought little of it.

Too bad I didn't know that Dr. Joseph Penrose who was moving his practice from Conroe to Dallas was
my
Matt Penrose. I could have avoided this whole nightmare.

Quickly, Jennifer wadded the disposable gown into a ball and dropped it in the trash can as if it had singed her fingers. She dressed faster than she ever had in her life, determined to make a getaway before Dr. Snake In The Grass and Nurse Giggles returned. She didn't even bother trying to wriggle into the misty black panty hose she'd worn. She tossed them into the trash too. She didn't notice that one nylon foot caught on the rim of the container.

She slipped her shoulder bag strap across her neck and listened with an ear to the door for the space of a few heartbeats. Then she carefully eased the door open. A quick look down the short hallway showed Nurse Giggles weighing a very pregnant woman.

Matt was nowhere in sight though she could hear the quiet rumble of his voice. He must be in one of the other examination rooms, she thought. He could open the door at any moment!

Jennifer wasted no more time. She exited the room then tiptoed down to the door that led to the reception area. Oh, damn, she thought, looking at the counter where you paid before leaving. The secretary sat there, talking on the phone.

She had two choices: crouch down and sneak away or brazen it out. Drawing a deep breath, Jennifer drew herself up to her full five and a half feet and stalked up to the counter. With a bright smile, she lied, "I've been called away on an emergency. I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer. If there's a bill for the doctor's time, simply send it to my office. I'll see that it's paid. Thanks a lot."

She turned to go, but the secretary burst out, "Dr. Monroe? Wait! You can't go out like that."

"Of course, I can. You can't keep me here," she said between gritted teeth. Gripping the shoulder strap of her black leather purse with one hand and carrying her gray suit jacket with the other, she edged toward the door.

"No, ma'am. Of course not. But, wait a moment."

"Just do as I ask, please," Jennifer demanded sternly, refusing to stay another moment lest Matt walk over to see what the uproar was. She'd caused enough scenes this morning. One more would traumatize her, she thought, flinging the door open.

"But, doctor," the secretary called. "Wait."

"Got to run." Jennifer dashed through the door and slammed it.

Feeling triumphant, she marched down the hallway to the elevators with her back straight. And the white label of her wrong-side-out gray blouse prominently displayed.

She didn't slow her breakneck pace until she reached her car in the parking lot. With a deep breath, she drew in the pleasantly warm October air and slid behind the steering wheel of her gold Lexus.

* * *

Matt Penrose saw the wisp of nylon peeking over the edge of the trash can. He lifted the pair of sheer black panty hose and studied them. Jennifer Monroe was positively squirrelly, but she had good taste in hosiery. She'd been in such a hurry that she'd discarded the expensive hose, he figured, rather than try to wiggle into them at warp speed.

Matt sniffed the air delicately.
Beautiful
by Estee Lauder. The same thing his sister wore. Good taste in perfume too. He shook his head in disbelief. It was difficult to believe that the woman had a thriving practice as a family therapist. If ever a physician needed to heal herself, she was one. She had a major hangup, probably sexual in nature. Regardless of her problems though, she still needed her annual checkup.

For a moment, he was tempted to just make a note for Sylvia, but his conscience wouldn't let him off that easily. Plus, he'd be a bit embarrassed to admit to Sylvia that he'd scared one of her patients away. Sylvia hadn't changed since medical school. The woman would tease him unmercifully.

"Call Dr. Monroe's office and leave a message for her to call me please," he told the nurse, not letting his chagrin shade his voice.

"I heard in nursing school about women who were afraid of pelvics, but I thought they meant women like my mother. Why I have to badger her to go every year. Mom's nearly forty. At her age, you'd think she'd know better, wouldn't you?"

Matt cringed at the nurse's insensitive comment. The woman was unbelievable. Since Nurse Anders seemed to think that anyone over thirty-five was over the hill, he wondered if it would do any good to tell her that he was almost at that magical milestone.

Irritated, he ceased listening to the nurse's numbing chatter and thought about his escaped patient. He was determined to convince Jennifer Monroe that false modesty shouldn't stand between a woman and her health. If that's what was wrong with the woman.

Absently, he fingered the silky hose. He couldn't believe any woman in this day and age had behaved like Jennifer. Surely she didn't think there was anything sexual about a gynecological exam?

With a shrug, he tucked the panty hose in his lab coat pocket and went on to the next patient. If she did think that, then he'd just have to convince her otherwise.

* * *

Jennifer's hand shook so badly she could hardly insert the key into the ignition. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, took a deep breath and tried again. This time she got it.