Revealing the Real Dr. Robinson (5 page)

“I didn’t think you would.”

“What makes you so...trusting? If a doctor came to me the way I came to you, I wouldn’t do what you’ve done.”

“It’s not that I’m trusting. I just don’t expect anything from anybody. That way, whatever happens happens. And I don’t get disappointed. That’s as far as I let anything go. The way I want to live my life, and I’m happy with it.”

That might be the way he lived his life, and maybe he was happy with it, but why did she see a distant sadness in his eyes so much of the time? Could it be this wasn’t the way he wanted to live his life but the way he thought he had to?

“Anyway...” She pointed to the adjacent room, one half the size of the closet-size room in which she was working “I noticed it’s set up for patient care. If you’re not busy right now, would you care to see a few patients in there rather than letting that space go to waste?”

“Spoken like a doctor who’s used to being in charge,” he said, smiling.

“Not as in charge as I used to think I was.” She turned then headed to the door, on her way to the hall to call her next patient. “Tomorrow night good for you?” she tossed over her shoulder on her way out.

“For what?”

“Dinner. You still owe me that night on the town, and I’m ready to collect. I’m scheduled for a back-to-back today and tomorrow, which means by tomorrow evening I’ll be free.” She spun to face him, not expecting him to be so close on her heels—so close they could have kissed. “So, dinner?” It was the first time she’d really noticed the extent and severity of the scars on his neck. Oh, she’d seen them, hadn’t paid too much attention. But this close she knew that what was visible on Ben was only a small part of it. She also knew the suffering that had come with them.

“Barring medical emergencies, mud slides and pestilence, I think I might be able to manage dinner,” he replied, stepping back from her.

She laughed. “I’ve never had pestilence used as an excuse to stand me up.”

“Not stand you up per se. Just warning you that if pestilence happens...” Rather than finishing his sentence, he brushed by her and went to the waiting area and called the next patient, while Shanna stood back and watched. Beautiful man, amazing physique, accentuated by the fact that this was the hospital where they didn’t have to wear scrubs and white jackets if they didn’t want to. Ben was dressed in a casual pair of tan cargo pants, along with a baggy camp shirt, long sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows. He exercised, kept himself in superb shape, which was evidenced in the muscles that rippled underneath all that fabric. Brown eyes, casually shaggy brown hair...the substance of dreamy sighs, she thought.

Yes, he was definitely a guy who could make a girl go giddy with his good looks. But he was locked up so tight. Maybe because of his scars, maybe because of something else. Which really didn’t make a difference, or shouldn’t make a difference. She was only here to learn from him, and not get goose bumps from just looking at him.

Shanna followed Ben to the waiting area to call her next patient, brushing her arm, trying to rid herself of her goose bumps.

* * *

Time passed so quickly she felt like her head was swimming. One minute she was in the middle of yesterday’s shift, now it was the end of the next day, she’d worked twenty hours out of the last thirty, and every single one of them had gone by in a blur.

Even more amazing was the fact that she’d never worked as hard in her whole life, or felt so good about her accomplishments. Little things. Sore throat. Bug bites. Cuts. Sprains. Pregnancy checks. All of that, and her body wasn’t protesting...yet. Of course, she could be on an adrenalin kick, or maybe it was the evening ahead with Ben that was giving her this late burst of energy.

Either way, she was charged, raring to go.

The funny thing was, she hadn’t been out on a date of any sort in, what? Definitely not since the divorce five years ago. Add two years of marriage to that, most of which she hadn’t even lived with her husband...now that she’d done the math, she was suddenly nervous. Which showed itself when Ben knocked on her door and her reaction was a little clutch in her heart and a little catch in her lungs. Then that last quick look in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, even though Ben had already seen her covered in the best the jungle had to offer.

“It’s not a date,” she said aloud as she dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, ran her fingers through her hair to give it just a little more wild edge and headed to the door. “He’s paying off a bet.” Doing the honorable thing.

“I have to be back on duty in an hour,” he said, right off.

Her formerly clutching heart sank a little, but she smiled through it. “And I have a date with a riveting medical journal, so that works out, doesn’t it?” A reactionary riposte, she knew, but it was the best she could come up with.

“Then I guess we’d better hurry.” Ben didn’t come in. Instead he stepped back from the door and actually started to walk down the corridor. Not as an escort, but as someone to follow.

“I guess we had. You go on ahead, and I’ll catch up.” With that, Shanna dashed back into her room, grabbed a tissue and wiped the gloss off her lips, then found a rubber band. When she caught up to Ben, who was halfway off the hospital compound, her hair was pulled back into her workaday ponytail.

And he didn’t say a word about it. Not one darned word. In fact, he barely spoke as they walked down to the village, not hand in hand. Not even together, as his pace was always about two steps in front of her. The place where he seemed to want to be.

Then, apart from the expected conversation—
it’s a nice night, we’re having nice weather—
the other little bits of conversation focused on patients and hospital supplies, and by the time they reached the edge of the village proper, Shanna was so annoyed by his rude behavior she blurted out, “How about we just skip this whole thing, since it’s obvious you don’t want to do this?”

Ben stopped a good five feet ahead of her but didn’t turn to face her right away. In fact, it took him several seconds before he spun around. “It’s not that I don’t want to do this. It’s that I
don’t
do this.”

“What? Take a night off?”

“No. I don’t take women to dinner. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Remember how I told you I was boring? Remember how we simply met up in Tuscany but never really went together? Well, this is part of it. I
do not
date. Not ever.”

This was something she hadn’t seen coming. Not at all. “Because you don’t like women? You’re gay?”

He actually laughed. “I love women. The only gender for me, actually. But I don’t get involved with them.”

“How would you define involved? Because in my world a one-hour night out on the village doesn’t constitute an involvement.”

“Especially in a ponytail?” he asked.

Now she was perplexed. Noticing her quick hair change would indicate a signal of some sort. She just didn’t know what kind of signal. More than that, she didn’t know what kind of signal she wanted. Because, like Ben, she didn’t get involved, and she had a divorce certificate to remind her just how messy an involvement of a personal nature could be. “You noticed?”

“I’m not oblivious, Shanna. Maybe a little obtuse in some matters, but I do notice the things around me.”

“Obtuse by design,” she commented, even though she was still keeping her distance.

“Not denying it.”

Well, at least he was honest. No way she could fault that. “As long as we know where we stand,” she said.

“See, that’s the thing. You may know where you stand, but I don’t. I don’t even know why you’re here. The real reason. Not the one you’re giving me.”

“And that bothers you?”

“What bothers me is that I planned an hour for this dinner, and we’re standing in the middle of the road, wasting it.”

See, there it was again, the nagging reminder that Ben didn’t want this. And it wasn’t only about dinner. Which made her wonder how she was going to stay close enough to watch him when all he wanted was to keep her at a distance. She’d hoped something would come of this evening, even if he’d reduced it to mere minutes.

Now, though, it felt like he was even shutting that down to her, so what was the point of continuing when it was obvious his conversation would not go much beyond the weather or the patient with severe eczema? “You know what, Ben? You’re off the hook. I relieve you of your obligation to take me to the village. You can have your hour back, okay? Have fun with it.”

With that, she spun around and marched as hard and fast as she could back to her room, where she slammed the door, kicked a wooden footstool across the small confines, then threw herself down on the bed and simply stared up at the ceiling.

Okay, so maybe she did let her emotions get in the way. And maybe he wasn’t the one, and this wasn’t the place. But she wasn’t ready to concede that her grandfather was right about her, because that doomed her to a career she simply didn’t want. Even thinking about spending every day pushing papers and fiddling with mundane business things made her queasy. That wasn’t her idea of being a doctor, but it was all her family was offering unless...

“Unless I learn to be more like Ben and less like me.” That reality caused a hard lump to form in her throat. Being like Ben wasn’t a victory. It was a concession. “Just do it, Shanna,” she said, staring so intently at the lovely little
mariposas
—butterflies—taking up residence on her ceiling light that a bang on her door startled her.

“Go away,” she shouted, knowing instinctively it was Ben coming to make amends.

“By my watch, I still have a little over half an hour coming to me,” he shouted back.

“Consider it my gift to you. And don’t you dare tell me you’ve marked it down in your calendar and you can’t change it.”

“I did. It’s in ink, so it’s impossible to change,” he countered.

In spite of herself, she laughed. Ben Robinson might have the social skills of a pink fairy armadillo, an Argentine animal that possessed the ability to bury itself completely in a matter of seconds if frightened, but Ben’s armadillo ways were engaging in some respects. “If you promise not to bury yourself in the dirt the instant you step inside, the door’s unlocked. Come in, if you want to.”

“I’m not sure...was that an invitation?” he asked, pushing the door open.

“If you want it to be.” Surprisingly, she wanted him to open that door.

“Look,” he said, stepping over the threshold yet not entering the room, “I live a very secluded life out here, forget how things are supposed to work sometimes.”

“Like common civilities?”

He nodded. “I, um... No excuses. I was rude and I’m sorry. I so totally avoid all the social trappings that I forget how people might have certain expectations of me in those areas, since I don’t have expectations of myself. I didn’t mean to offend you, Shanna. In fact, I was looking forward to—”

“An hour,” she interrupted.

“Okay, you’re going to get another apology because I realize that timeline was uncalled for. That was me, trying to play it safe.”

“Safe from what?” she asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. “From me? Do you think I have
those
kinds of intentions? You know, follow you all the way from Tuscany to wherever in the world this is just to seduce you? Because if it was seduction I wanted from you, I’d have gotten it over with in Tuscany, and right now I’d be sipping wine in a Paris bistro instead of lying in my bed watching bugs in Argentina.”

“What else am I supposed to believe? You tell me you’re here so you can be like me, and if that’s the case then you’re certifiably insane. And I don’t think you’re insane.”

“I need a new dedication in my life, Ben, and I wasn’t finding it where I was. You intrigued me in Tuscany and that’s why I came here. The kind of dedication you have is what I want to develop in myself.” Dedication, meaning
dispassion
or
distance.
Which she would never, ever say to him in those terms because that would be hurtful. Ben didn’t deserve that.

He shook his head. “All I see when I’m watching you work is dedication. You’re involved, Shanna. And passionate. How can that
not
be dedication?” He stepped into the room, took a few more steps forward, then extended his hand to her. “Anyway, let’s not ruin the rest of the evening with philosophical conundrums. Come on, get up. I owe you a dinner.”

She looked at his hand for a moment. Soft, gentle. The kind of hand that could stroke a woman into easy submission. “I’ll go, but only because it’s in ink on your calendar and, God only knows, you can’t change it once it’s in ink.”

“I wrote it in ink because I didn’t want to find an excuse to get out of it.”

“But an hour?” she asked, taking hold of his hand and tingling to everything she’d expected his touch to be. Tingling
and
goose bumps.

“That gave
you
your out, Shanna. I’m not the most engaging person to be around so I figured an hour was time enough to eat and for you to make a polite exit once you realized that anything more than an hour with me would turn into misery. So, yes, an hour. But let’s add an option to that.”

“An option for what?”

“More. There’s nothing written in ink underneath that hour.”

“So I get to negotiate for another hour if the first one goes well?” Normally, this was where she’d have simply shoved him out the door, by brute force if necessary, then locked it after him. But she did have those tingles and goose bumps to contend with, whatever they meant. Besides that, Ben fascinated her. His odd outlook on life could be her starting point.

“If you want to negotiate. Not sure that’s going to happen, though.”

“Pretty sure you’re that boring, are you, Doctor?” she asked, standing. “Do I feel another wager coming on? Because I like to dance, so it might involve a tango. Just thought I should warn you.”

* * *

What was it about her that intrigued him? She was pretty. Downright beautiful, actually. Red hair like he’d never known red could be. Sensual, soft. And green eyes the color of emeralds. So, in spite of his empty heart, there were so many reasons to look. He was human after all. But what else? Her infectious personality? Because Shanna had the ability to draw people in, and he wasn’t denying that he’d been drawn in, starting with that first morning in Tuscany when she’d approached him and he’d walked away.