that is?”
“That we all seem young and idealistic and it won’t last. But I’m still excited and not afraid to admit it! Carol had her whole life ahead of her—finally able to start the career she’d spent years training for. She had just gotten engaged and was making plans to get married, have kids.” Abby’s voice broke and she looked away, furious with herself for letting this man see her emotions.
“Tough break.”
“It’s unfair.”
“Life often is.”
“Spoken like a true cynic.”
“Is that how you see me—cynical?”
“Aren’t you? Your views stated in the staff meetings sure seem to point that way. I don’t want to become like you.”
“Then let’s hope you can stay in your cozy cocoon.”
“I’m not encased in a cocoon. I’ve been working as a doctor for some time now. I love it. It has its bad moments, of course—when, no matter what, I can’t help someone. But mostly, it’s just what I always wanted.”
He slid the car to a stop in front of the restaurant. Abby slipped out when the doorman held the door open, wishing the dress hadn’t ridden up so much. She tugged it in place, pulling it up a bit for good measure.
Good manners dictated she wait for Greg, but she wished she could just go into the banquet room alone. The reality was she’d be spending the entire evening with him. She glanced down at her wrist. No watch—darn. How long would it be before the banquet ended and he took her home?
She regretted her outburst. She and Greg Hastings didn’t see eye to eye, but there was no call to start an awkward evening off with hostility. Not that she was going to apologize. There was nothing wrong in expressing her thoughts. He was cynical. Even he hadn’t denied it.
The banquet room was almost full when they entered. Walking toward the designated head table, Abby nodded to two or three acquaintances and quickly scanned the room to see if Jeb had come. He’d been invited—as a close friend of Carol’s. Her family was not coming. It was still too soon after her death.
She saw him seated at a table to the right. Immediately her gaze was drawn to the blond beauty at his side. There was no denying Sara was gorgeous. Frowning, Abby marched onward, feeling self-conscious with the drastic change in her appearance. And with the looks she was getting from people who knew her at the hospital.
She took another deep breath. This technique for calming jittery nerves seemed highly overrated. Any more deep breaths and she’d hyperventilate. Her nervousness grew as more and more people swung around to stare at her. Was it simple curiosity, or was it the dress?
Maybe, just maybe, she’d gone a tad overboard.
Or were they fascinated by the fact that she had arrived with Greg Hastings? Would it be all over Merrimac General tomorrow that Dr. Abigail Trent couldn’t get a date, that she had to be set up?
How long had it been since she’d been on a date? A real honest-to-goodness date—not a night out with Jeb and Carol? She shied away from thinking about all the evenings the three of them had shared. She would not let her emotions choke her again.
Tilting her chin, she stepped up to the head table, grateful to be able to sit. At least she didn’t feel so much on display.
Unfortunately, Greg Hastings sat right beside her. Too close, actually. She peeked at him through her lashes, then looked quickly away. Could she pretend her beeper had sounded and dash away? No. She owed it to Carol’s memory to accept the endowment.
She recognized some of the administrative staff, doctors, two head nurses. Glancing around, she looked for the Walkers’ attorney.
The subtle scent of Greg’s aftershave wafted her way, starting a curious reaction. Her heart rate sped up, her senses became more alert. A strange bud of interest curled deep inside. Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore the sensations, tried to ignore how awkward she felt. It was just a meal, a business commitment.
“What a large crowd,” she murmured, wishing desperately she had the gift of small talk. Maybe she could pretend he was a patient and talk to him like a doctor.
That wouldn’t work. Almost all her patients were under ten, and Greg Hastings was nothing like a ten-year-old! She even wondered if he’d ever been ten. She had trouble envisioning him as anything other than the successful surgeon he was.
A laugh almost escaped as she imagined him as a dedicated surgeon when only ten. She glanced at him and found his dark eyes on her. Her breath caught—that gaze felt as dangerous as skydiving. Her breathlessness couldn’t be any worse if she’d jumped out of a plane!
He reached for his water glass and her gaze was drawn to his hands. As a skilled surgeon, did he take them for granted? His palms were large, as fitted a man his size, his fingers long.
What would they feel like holding hers? They had never touched, had no reason to. But for a moment she wondered what it would feel like to have her hand engulfed in his.
She raised her eyes and Greg quirked up one eyebrow, as if in silent inquiry. Heat flooded her face. She was no better than those silly nurses who fawned all over him.
Ben Taylor, chief of staff for Merrimac General, joined them at the table. Greg stood and shook the older man’s hand, smiling in warm welcome.
In his right cheek a dimple appeared. Abby’s heart skipped a beat. She used to daydream about some dashing knight sweeping her off her feet—and in her mind he’d always been a rugged rogue—with dimples.
Where did women get these silly notions? Greg was a respected member of the hospital staff, a surgeon with a growing reputation. Not some man to have fantasy dreams about. They were colleagues. Nothing more. A colleague, moreover, she wasn’t sure she even liked. And if his attitude toward her was anything to go by, the feeling was mutual!
Seated beside him, she could almost feel the power and assurance that cloaked him. She definitely felt a tingling awareness that had nothing to do with business, but was totally personal.
It was simply sex appeal. Oh, Lord, did he have that in spades!
She looked around and caught the eye of one of the doctors from the emergency room. His knowing smirk startled her. What—? When his gaze moved to Greg, the oddest thought struck. Did he think she and Dr. Hastings were dating? How ludicrous. As if Greg Hastings, heartthrob of Merrimac General, would ever consider dating someone like her!
“We’ll wait until the dessert is served before starting the speeches,” Ben remarked.
She nodded and involuntarily glanced at Jeb’s table to study the vivacious woman at his side. That was the kind of woman men liked—beautiful and gifted with the ability to make small talk.
“Is there someone you want to speak with? There’s time before they start serving dinner,” Greg said softly as he sat down when Ben moved on to speak to another staff member at the next table.
She met his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You keep staring at that table. If there’s someone you want to talk with, you have
