The Doctor's Undoing (8 page)

Because he didn't want to go through that again, he said on impulse, “Maybe you and I could go to the Halloween bash together? I know it's almost six weeks away, but we could use the time to come up with some fun costume ideas.”

Her long lashes swept downward, hiding her eyes as she toyed with her snack. “Like you said, it's six weeks away. It sort of depends on what our schedules are like then. One or both of us could end up on call.”

Frowning, he asked himself if that was a brush-off. A way for her to let him know she wasn't interested in attending the party with him.

He felt ridiculously like a smitten schoolboy, trying to read her expression, trying to keep his cool—and his ego—intact while still angling for a date with her. He couldn't say he cared for being in that situation at his age.

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to speak too curtly. “It all depends, of course.”

She raised her gaze to his face, and the anxious look in her eyes told him that she worried she'd hurt his feelings. “Don't get me wrong, I'd be happy to go to the party with you if our schedules allow. It sounds like fun. Maybe the whole gang can get together that night. Anne and Liam and James and whoever he wants to bring, if anyone. Maybe Connor and Mia can join us after they take Alexis trick-or-treating. Our party usually starts after kids are in bed.”

“The whole gang. Sure. That would be great. It's always good when we can get together these days.”

“Um, Ron?”

He crumpled the plastic wrapping from his biscotti and stood to toss it in a nearby trash can. “Guess I'd better get back to the ward. My resident should be available soon.”

She reached out to catch his arm when he passed her. “Ron, wait.”

He paused. “Yeah?”

“How about dinner tonight?”

The blurted question took him by surprise. “Um—dinner?”

“Yes.” She nodded firmly, as if to convince both of them. “We can meet somewhere…or you could come to my place. I'll cook, if you like. I made and froze a lasagna a couple weeks ago. It wouldn't take long to thaw out and warm it up for dinner.”

He searched her face, wondering if this was another pity gesture. A concession to his pride? An implicit apology for the brush-off of the Halloween invitation? He didn't like any of those possibilities. And yet…

“Sure,” he said lightly. “I'll bring the wine.”

“That sounds good. I'll see you at about seven, then.”

Nodding, he took a step backward, making his escape before she had a chance to change her mind. “See you, Haley.”

“Yeah.” Her tone was just a bit hesitant, as if she was already wondering if this was a mistake. “See you tonight, Ron.”

 

She considered calling Hardik or James. Either or both of the bachelors would probably have enjoyed a home-cooked meal. She was sure Ron would enjoy spending a casual evening chatting with them.

She was equally sure that he would think she'd invited them because she'd been a coward. Afraid to be alone with him.

He'd have been right.

It wasn't that she was afraid of Ron. She trusted him implicitly. She was the one who'd been acting strangely lately. Whose impulses seemed to be getting out of hand. Like this dinner invitation, for example. What had made her invite him to her place for a cozy, meal à deux?

Though she'd tried all afternoon to rationalize the invitation by telling herself that it had been a gesture to apologize for her inadvertently rude response to his Halloween party suggestion, she knew that wasn't quite the whole story. The thing was, it was getting harder to deny her attraction to Ron—and his to her. It was time for them to either do something about it, clear the air, or allow their friendship to be irreparably damaged—something she wasn't willing to risk.

He arrived exactly on time, bearing the bottle of wine he'd promised. Knowing her behavior was a bit too animated, she served dinner immediately, chattering and laughing the whole time. Ron played along, teasing and joking as he always did, though something in his eyes let her know he was as aware as her of the underlying tension between them now.

The chocolate torte she'd thrown together for dessert was a big hit, as anything chocolate always was where Ron was concerned. They continued to talk shop while they finished the meal. Ron shared stories about the hem-onc ward, and Haley
told him about the children she worked with in pulmonology. One cystic fibrosis patient had particularly captured her heart, a six-year-old boy who'd been hospitalized with pneumonia, but was making a satisfactory recovery. Even with his health ailments, the child was sunny-natured and funny, wrapping the entire hospital staff around his little fingers.

“Sounds like you rather enjoy peds, yourself,” Ron commented as he helped her stack dishes after the meal.

“I do like it. I'm thinking maybe I'll specialize in child psych, rather than adult.”

“You could do a double board residency. Get certified in both.”

“Actually, I've been looking into the triple board program,” she confessed. “Child and adult psych and peds. It's a five-year program, but I'd be board certified in all three, which would really open my options for the future.”

He didn't look particularly surprised by her aspiration. “I see. So you'll definitely be leaving the state for your residency, since there's not a triple board program here.”

“Yes, I would have to go somewhere else if I decide to go that route. But I plan to come back to Arkansas eventually. My roots are here.”

“Hmm.”

She wasn't sure how to interpret that murmur. “Are you hoping to get into the peds residency here?”

He shrugged. “You never know. All depends on passing Step 2. And getting through the interview process.”

She gave him a look as she turned from the dishwasher. “You're not preparing for failure, are you?”

He grinned. “Sugar, I'm always prepared for failure. Better to expect it and be pleasantly surprised than hope for the best and be blindsided.”

She sighed, hiding her reaction to his contagious smile behind exasperation. “You know how I disapprove of that attitude.”

“Yes, I know.” Taking a step toward her, he blocked her path, effectively trapping her against the kitchen counter. He lifted a hand to stroke a strand of hair from her cheek, letting his fingertips linger against her skin. He'd done that once before. It was no less disconcerting this time. “You've disapproved of me from the day you met me, haven't you, Haley?”

“I, um—” She moistened her lips. “Of course not, Ron. We struck up a conversation the day we met, remember?”

“I remember. I mentioned my Plan B—being a mortician—and you gave me a locker-room talk about giving it my best and winning for the home team.”

“I didn't say anything about the home team,” she muttered with a frown. “And I didn't disapprove of you. You're the one who had a problem with my attitude. You called me a cheerleader.”

“Mmm. As in motivator. Inspirer. Encourager. None of which are bad things.”

She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or complimenting her. Maybe a little of both. She did notice that he wasn't backing away. In fact, she thought he might have inched a little closer. “Ron?”

His gaze lingered on her mouth. “I've been thinking a lot lately about your advice.”

“Um—what advice?”

“You know what you always say about taking risks and going after what you want?”

She did say that fairly often. “Well, yes…”

“What's your advice for when a guy wants something very badly, but the risks are damned high?”

“I guess that would depend on how much you're willing to lose,” she answered very softly.

He searched her face, and his expression wasn't hard to read that time as he weighed his options. And then he sighed lightly, dropped his hand, and moved an inch backward. “Some things are just too valuable to gamble on.”

She reached out and caught his shirt, gathering the fabric just above his heart in her right hand. Giving a little tug, she brought him back to within touching proximity. “Some risks are worth taking.”

She lifted her face as he lowered his. He hesitated a breath away from her mouth, as if realizing—as she was—that everything between them would change once their lips touched. As worrisome as that thought was, she made no attempt to draw away when he closed that short distance.

There was no first-kiss tentativeness, no fumbling or awkwardness. Ron's mouth closed over hers with the confidence of intimate acquaintance. And her entire being responded as if welcoming him home. Her fingers tightened spasmodically on his shirt, holding him in place. Her eyes closed, allowing her to concentrate solely on the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of him. All sensations she would have sworn she'd experienced many times before.

How could it feel this right when a wary little voice inside her kept screaming warnings?

He lifted his head. Eventually. Slowly. And though she was tempted to tangle her hands in his hair and keep him there, she allowed him to back away.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, inching toward the exit.

He was running. Maybe he needed to process what had just happened between them. She knew she did. “You're welcome.”

Had she known when she'd invited him that there was a chance something like this could happen?

She suspected she had.

She followed him to the door. “I'll see you at lecture tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Yeah. See ya.”

His expression shuttered now, he opened the door and stepped out.

Holding the open door, she spoke impulsively. “Ron?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Nothing has to change between us, you know.”

He gave her a faint, crooked smile, so different from his usual cocky grins. “We both know it has already changed, Haley.”

Biting her lip in a silent acknowledgment of his point, she closed the door between them.

 

Okay, so she and Ron had kissed. And she couldn't deny that she was the one who'd initiated it when he'd been on the verge of backing off.

Lying in her bed, staring sleeplessly at the darkened ceiling, she replayed the entire scene, and certainly not for the first time since he'd left a few hours earlier.

She supposed it had been inevitable. That kiss had been building for a while. Since Georgia McMillan had put the idea in their heads? Or had she merely commented on something that had been simmering between them almost from the beginning?

She already knew the answer to that rhetorical question.

So, she was drawn to Ron. And vice versa. More than a casual attraction—the heat between them had built from the start. Sometimes erupting in temper, other times in barely suppressed temptation.

Restlessly rearranging her pillows, she pulled the sheet to her chin. Like Ron, she worried about doing anything that would permanently affect their friendship. Attraction or no, she valued the connection between them. The shared memories, the mutual support and encouragement. The bond that had been forged among the five study friends during those
sometimes nightmarish first two years. The celebrations of accomplishments and milestones. Each of her friends was precious to her.

She had a pretty good track record of staying on good terms with former lovers, she reminded herself. She and Kris had parted on very amicable terms, and she still remained in loose contact with her two college boyfriends. So even if she and Ron allowed themselves to explore the feelings between them, it didn't mean they couldn't remain friends when it ended.

And it would end, she thought, punching her pillow. There were so many strikes against them. Their differing personalities. The career commitments they had made that would keep them busy for several years yet before they could even begin their practices. Not to mention Ron's notorious reluctance to make a full commitment to anything. Or anyone, for that matter. She remembered hearing him make several only half-joking comments about being a confirmed bachelor who valued his independence.

It wasn't as if she was looking for anything serious, herself. She had another year and a half of medical school, including preparation for the Step 2 exams. Then five years of residency, followed by getting established in her chosen career. She certainly wasn't saying she wouldn't make a commitment to anyone during the next seven years, but she didn't think it would be soon. Nor was it likely to be with a man whose stated philosophy was, “If it's not working out, just walk away.”

So…a temporary affair, perhaps. With the understanding from the start that it was nothing more. Wasn't that what she'd had with Kris? They'd had fun for a while, then gone their own ways, both emotionally richer for the experiences they had shared. They hadn't given up and walked away—not the way Ron defined walking away, anyway.

Or maybe it wouldn't even go that far. Maybe a few kisses would satisfy the itch, or the curiosity, or whatever it was
drawing them together. They could play it by ear. See what happened. She could do that without risking too much, as long as she kept the limitations in mind from the start.

It wasn't as if she was falling in love or anything.

Flipping again, she gave the pillow another hard punch.

 

He wasn't going to rush this. Fighting his characteristic impulsiveness and impatience, Ron was determined to take things slow with Haley. They'd had two years to get to know each other as friends; now they had plenty of time to explore any new options between them.

He greeted her in the students' room the morning after The Kiss with his usual teasing remarks, neither pretending the incident hadn't happened nor making any specific reference to it. Though her cheeks were a bit pinker than usual, she responded in the same way, chatting easily with him, laughing or groaning at his jokes, even punching his arm once, making him chuckle.