to warn me. I’ve dealt with worse, I’m sure. I’ve consulted on many patients before and I’ve a way of explaining complex medical procedures so patients understand me.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Your pride is healthy, I see.”
Quinn smiled. “I have an excellent bedside manner.”
In your dreams, perhaps.
“Right, I forgot about your charming persona with patients.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re something of a McSteamy.”
“A … what?”
“Never mind, it’s a Grey’s Anatomy joke.”
“Didn’t that character die?”
Charlotte smirked. “I didn’t know you were a Grey’s Anatomy fan.”
He sighed. “What I meant was that I have a way of getting people to open up to me. I have a winning personality.”
Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Quinn chuckled. “Okay. Look, what I meant was I’ll be able to explain it to her and gain her trust. I’ve done this surgery before.”
Trust was important, especially in the Inuk culture. Trust was important to her, too. She’d trusted Quinn. She’d never forget how deeply in love with him she’d been. Quinn had claimed her heart, body and soul. He’d taken her innocence and had then crushed all her hopes and dreams when he’d walked out on her after she’d lost their baby.
“It’s for the best, Charlotte. We’re not ready. We have our careers ahead of us.”
The day he’d walked out had been the day he’d lost her trust. She’d never let him in again.
Never is a long time.
“Hey, are you okay? You zoned out, there, for a moment,” Quinn said, waving a hand in front of her face.
Charlotte shook the painful memory away. “If you’re sure you can handle Mentlana, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Charlotte, your friend will be totally at ease and informed during the entire procedure.”
“Trust is not easily given by people in a small, close-knit and isolated community.”
“Trust me.” He grinned, a dimple puckering.
“I did that once before,” she muttered.
“What?” he asked. He hadn’t heard her, but when had he ever? When they’d been together, everything had been about him and she’d been so in love she’d been content to follow.
It had taken her a long time realize she’d been so desperate to have her own family she’d been blinded to the fact she had been engaged to a man who was already married—to his work.
“Don’t worry about it.” Though Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure he could fit in with the residents of Cape Recluse. A man like Quinn would stick out like a sore thumb.
“Should I worry?” he asked.
“So, I was surprised to learn you’re in Toronto,” Charlotte said, changing the subject but also feeding her nosy side. New York had been Quinn’s dream destination, his Mecca, his reason for leaving her, but when she’d called he’d been in Toronto.
“My father’s health deteriorated two years ago. He offered me a position at the hospital. He wanted to groom me to become Chief of Surgery.” Quinn frowned and quickened his pace. Charlotte had an inkling it was a touchy subject. At least that explained why he’d given up his practice in Manhattan and moved to Toronto. It impressed her that he’d returned home to help his father, despite his history with his parents.
“Did he retire?”
“No.” His voice was stiff. “No, he died.”
Good going, dingbat.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Quinn shrugged. “It was his fault. He didn’t practice what he preached. Excessive smoker and drinker. Cancer caught up with him.”
“Still. I’m sorry.” Charlotte didn’t know what else to say. She knew Quinn hadn’t had the best relationship with his parents, but it was still hard to lose one. She was practically a pro in that department.
She led him into a warm hangar where her little Citation jet was waiting. Quinn whistled in appreciation.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“I bought it at an auction. It’s a ‘93 and was in bad shape interior-wise, but I didn’t care about that. I kitted it out to transport patients.”
“It’s a beaut.”
Charlotte grinned. She was proud of her jet and it made her preen that Quinn looked up at it in admiration. When they had been choosing their specialties, he hadn’t been overly impressed with her choice of general practitioner.
You don’t need his approval.
“Well, then, we’d better get going. I’ll be back in a moment. I just have to clear something with the hangar’s manager.”
Charlotte jogged away. Quinn’s personality was the same: overconfident, arrogant and cocky. But none of that mattered right now. His self-assuredness would probably be just the thing needed to save Mentlana and her baby.
And that was all that mattered.
What am I doing here again? Quinn asked himself, as another round of turbulence rocked the plane. Yet he knew exactly why he’d come. Because of Charlotte.
He’d had to see for himself that she was okay. Honestly, had he expected a broken, sad woman stuck in a dead-end job in the wilds of nowhere?
Yeah, in fact, he had.
When she’d refused to come to Manhattan after her miscarriage, he’d known she was done with him. Though it had smarted, he hadn’t been a stranger to rejection from someone he loved. He’d dealt with it and had thrown himself completely into his work, but some perverse part of him had needed, wanted to see her again. When he’d left her she’d been so ill, so fragile.
Now she was whole and healthy.
It was like the miscarriage had never happened. She was confident, happy in her job. Hell, she’d even learned how to fly a plane. When he’d seen that jet, he’d been impressed. She wasn’t the same girl he’d left behind. It seemed she was stronger for their parting.
Whereas he was not.
He glanced down at his hand and flexed it. The leather of his glove creaked, his hand inside, stiff.
A year ago, he’d been in a car accident during a bad bout of fog on the highway. His hand had been crushed. Quinn flexed his hand again, curling and then releasing it.
