her luggage cart when a deep voice behind her said, “Let me help you with that.”
Startled, Elyssa turned and met the eyes of a tall, broad-shouldered man. She’d noticed him during her show, lounging against the wall and watching her with a half smile on his face. Before she had a chance to answer him, he bent over and hoisted her case onto the cart, then secured the straps.
Elyssa saw a stethoscope protruding from the pocket of his pale-blue lab coat. So he was a doctor.
His hair was light brown. No, it was more gold than brown. In fact, she thought as he straightened and turned to face her, everything about him was golden. Amber flecks in a pair of arresting brown eyes, a patch of golden chest hair visible above the opened button of the white shirt beneath his lab coat, more fine, pale hairs on the backs of his hands. Who was he? In the two weeks she’d been entertaining here, she hadn’t run into him.
“Thanks for your help, Dr. ah…”
“Cameron. Brett Cameron.”
She recognized the name immediately. “You’re the head of pediatric oncology.”
“And you’re Lulu the Clown,” he said, grinning at her.
She answered his smile with her own. “Sometimes known as Elyssa Jarmon.”
“I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute.”
“Sure.”
He pushed the cart into the hall. Before they’d gone far, a nurse hurried up to claim his attention. While Elyssa waited, she studied him again.
Her impression of him as “golden” was apt; she’d heard him referred to as the golden boy of pediatric cancer. Through her access to the hospital grapevine, she knew he was the protégé of Dr. Clark Madigan, the hospital’s chief of staff, under whom he’d trained at Sloan-Kettering. Dr. Brett Cameron was only thirty-four, but he’d already established a national reputation for treating young cancer victims, introducing new chemotherapy regimes and devising innovative techniques for minimizing pain. Elyssa noticed his relaxed yet authoritative manner with the nurse, the way he ruffled the hair of a youngster who walked past him, and decided she approved.
Two years ago she would have been agog at the opportunity to talk to him, perhaps have a chance to interview him on the evening news. But those days—those heady days—of life in the fast lane of television news were behind her.
Instead she wondered why he wanted to meet with her. She hoped he wasn’t planning to discontinue her shows. Her proposal to entertain had been approved only on a trial basis.
She mentally marshaled the reasons for continuing. She was doing the children some good. They enjoyed her shows, joined in and asked for more. She’d even had a phone call from a parent who said her child hadn’t stopped talking about Lulu.
And God knows, Elyssa thought, the shows were good for her, too. If Dr. Cameron wanted her out, he would have a fight on his hands. Circumstances had forced her to give up her career in TV news, but she hadn’t lost the guts and determination that had made her a success.
The nurse turned and hurried away, and Brett ushered Elyssa down the hall past a door with Pediatric Oncology and his name on it. He opened another door, this one unmarked, and led her through a maze of narrow corridors into his office.
A typical physician’s office—she’d seen enough of them recently to know—with medical journals on the bookshelf, framed certificates on the walls and a semilimp ivy plant on a small table. But she noticed a few touches she appreciated—a child’s table with drawing paper and crayons, picture books and a yellow beanbag chair in the corner with a rack of books for older children beside it.
Sunlight from unshaded windows flooded the room. The windows looked out over the emergency room entrance. Elyssa glanced outside just as two orderlies rushed a gurney up the ramp and into the building. “Some view.”
He followed her gaze, shrugged. “It’s temporary.”
That’s right, she remembered. He’d have a different office, presumably with a better view, when the new children’s cancer hospital opened. She remembered hearing that his mentor, Dr. Madigan, had lured him to Indianapolis to head the new facility. Being established here ahead of time would allow him input into the hospital’s development. Sharp man.
Brett gestured toward an armchair. Elyssa sat and he dropped onto the couch across from her and stretched out his long legs. “Elyssa Jarmon,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully. “I recognized your name on the proposal. Channel 9, right?”
“Yes.” Sharp man with a good memory.
“I was a big fan of yours. I used to look forward to seeing you on the news every night. Then I went to a medical conference in Denmark. When I came back, you’d vanished.” He looked at her speculatively.
She stiffened, hearing the unspoken, “What happened?” Because she’d once been a local celebrity, people thought her life was public property. Elyssa disagreed. Even if the person fishing for info had eyes that reminded her of crushed velvet and a voice like velvet, too.
“I made a career change.” That was as much as she cared to say. Quickly she changed the subject. “I noticed you watching the clown show. Did you enjoy it?”
“Very much. You’ve been entertaining the kids for a couple of weeks now. Today was your…third visit.”
“You know that?” Elyssa asked, astonished.
“You sound surprised.”
“I imagine for a department head, clown shows must be way down on the list of priorities.”
His lips curved in amusement. “When something matters, I do my homework. Clown shows matter.” He leaned forward. “Laughter’s important. It helps kids get well. I could show you some research—” Her raised brows stopped him. “Nah, you don’t want to read that dry stuff. Just take my word for it, you’re on the right track with these kids. Trace, for instance. Today’s the first time I heard him laugh.”
“I was beginning to wonder if he could.”
“It’ll be easier for him now. You’ve given him a start.”
“Thanks. I hope so.” Relieved, she settled back in the chair. He obviously didn’t intend to cut out the shows.
He looked at her thoughtfully, then asked, “Could you do more? I’d like to have you here twice a week, unless you have another job that takes your time.”
“No,” she said. “Clowning Around is a full-time business. I do birthday parties, clown classes, magic classes.”
His expressive brown eyes lit up. “Clown classes—that’s what I want. A way for you to work closely with a few kids at a time. Would you be interested?”
She stared out the window and thought about his suggestion. She’d like to say yes. She enjoyed working with these children; they tugged at her heart. But could she afford to take another afternoon away from her business? Turn down lucrative jobs?
She looked back to find his eyes on her. He studied her intently as if he wanted to learn everything about her. Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t look
