nerve, which had been confirmed by scans.
With enough luck and Jake’s skill, the boy might well be able to catch and pass a ball after this surgery. He would, hopefully, also be able to hear again—although, he might not. He would also probably never fulfil his lifelong dream of playing at a high level in the NFL. The disease process was slow, but there wasn’t always a great prognosis long term. This kid’s future was on the line and someone wanted Jake to see an actor about, what—an irritating cough?
And, yeah, maybe he was being an assumptive ass, but in his experience there hadn’t ever been a need for a neurosurgeon on a film set during the normal day-to-day scheduling. Emergencies—yes. But this wasn’t an emergency, they’d said so already. The first time they’d called. And the second...
The assistant hesitated, the phone still in his outstretched hand. ‘But...they...you...’
‘Didn’t you tell them last time? If it’s an emergency they need to call 911 and I’ll meet them in the ER, otherwise I will be there as soon as I’ve finished this complex neurofibroma surgery. If they don’t understand what that is, explain, in words of less than two syllables, that I’m a brain surgeon, and ask them to guess what I’m busy with right now.’
When James Rothsberg had head-hunted him for his Hollywood Hills Clinic it had been the biggest boost to Jake’s career, the opportunity to work with the very best California had to offer. And it had promised a decent living with money to spare to pay back his parents every cent and more for the sacrifices they’d made for him. Money, too, to pay for healthcare for his father’s failing health.
That they wouldn’t accept a dime from him was another issue altogether, along with the fact that even though Jake worked in one of the best hospitals in the state, his father refused to set foot through the door. Not that it stopped Jake from trying. Again. And again.
But the job came with the proviso that he’d fill in when necessary on the clinic’s film studio roster. In extremis. And Dr Kim’s sudden and necessary absence due to family problems meant they were in extremis. He’d have to live with it, along with all the tender egos who demanded nothing less than a qualified doctor to apply a plaster.
‘Okay, everyone. Back to work, concentrate, this is the tricky bit. We have to...’ he manipulated the probes ‘...isolate and expose the tumour... There it is... Pretty tough guy, this one, will take some clever dissecting...’
Three hours later, after a distressing conversation with his patient’s parents, when he’d tried to be as honest and hopeful as he could about the boy’s future, Jake pulled into the film studio, showed his security pass and was directed to the set.
Seriously? His whole life he’d been working towards neurosurgery and now, just because one of his colleagues was away, he was here. In... The spool of annoyance on repeat in his head jerked to a stop. He looked around. Stared. What the hell? Outer space? The set was a mock-up of a crashed spacecraft on a sandy planet. All around him were creatures with three eyes or two heads and, strangely, holding very Earth-like guns... Plus a lot of cables that could easily trip someone up, and a few worried-looking humans huddled around a large film camera, watching something on a screen.
‘Hey?’ He stopped a man carrying a ladder as he walked by. ‘Cameron Fontaine? Where can I find her? I’m the doctor. She rang, more than once, to request my assistance.’
‘In her trailer. Again. Out there, take a left.’ The man pointed wearily across the set and beyond. ‘Biggest trailer, you won’t miss it. Do us a favour and wave a wand, bring her back? They’re all going nuts here.’
Jake wandered through the set and out into a car lot where there were around a dozen trailers. One, in the far corner, was very definitely, pointedly, larger than the others.
‘Excuse me? Can I help you?’ A very cross English voice, out of place in...outer space...had him spinning round. The owner was another angry-looking human with wild fiery red hair that appeared to match her bad humour, and a smattering of freckles in a pale complexion. It was the frown that stood out most, though.
‘I’m looking for Cameron Fontaine. She called for me. I’m Dr Lewis.’
‘You’re the doctor? But you’re not Kim. She usually sees Kim.’
Believe me, lady, I don’t want me to be here either. ‘Dr Kim is away at the moment. I’m the fill-in. For the duration of filming.’ But he’d be having words with James when he eventually got back to the clinic. Surely someone else could do this? Someone less busy, less qualified, someone who actually cared about all these Hollywood theatrics?
The woman in front of him shook her head and the mass of red curls bobbed around her shoulders. Man, her hair was shiny, and she had dark chocolate eyes that were huge and...condemning. She was wearing a top that was a similar colour to her eyes. And why he even noticed that he had no idea. Standard issue black skinny jeans clung to... No, he wasn’t going there. He was not going to look at her and assess her attractiveness like everyone else in this city where looks were king. No doubt she was just the same kind of blinded-by-the-lights airhead wannabe actress. She was pretty enough. Not like the tall willowy brunettes that breezed in and out of his life, but there was something about her that set her apart. A fragile beauty.
So, okay, he had a quick peek and she had a damned fine body. Curves. Something you didn’t see often around here. Nice curves.
And a disappointed glint in her eyes that made him feel as if he’d let her down. ‘Well, that’s just perfect. Brilliant. We’ve been waiting for you for hours and everyone’s starting to get very grumpy and for some reason it’s all my fault and you’re not even the right guy.’
‘Whoa.’ It was fine for him to feel bummed out about this, but no way was it okay for her to join in. ‘I can leave right now, if you prefer. I have plenty of real patients to keep me occupied.’
‘No. No. No. Stay right there. You’ll have to do. The director’s getting on my back, Cameron won’t go outside, and we all need her seen as soon as possible. Please.’ Her eyes narrowed for a moment. Then she seemed to pull herself together. Smacking her lips, she clasped her hands in front of her as if steeling her nerve. She found him a smile. It wasn’t terribly convincing, but it was there. ‘Sorry. I’m Lola Bennett, Miss Fontaine’s PA.’ He could have sworn she also uttered the word ‘dogsbody’ under her breath, but he couldn’t be certain.
‘Jake Lewis. Neurosurgeon to the stars. Apparently.’ He stuck out his hand.
Which she took in hers and gave a short firm shake. Her hand was warm and petite and just touching it gave him a weird jolt through his skin. She looked down at where their hands touched, then back at him with a question in her eyes. Then she blinked. ‘Okay! Well! Let’s do our best, shall we? Miss Fontaine’s trailer is right here. Be warned, though, she may not be exactly chuffed to see you.’
‘Chuffed?’
‘Sorry, I mean pleased. Delighted. English, you see. As in I’m from England... Obviously you speak English too...just a different sort...’ And then she smiled for real, the chocolate eyes blazed and her mouth curled into a pretty curve. Which had a very strange but real effect on his cardiac rhythm as he followed her into the trailer.
He put it down to the whole bizarre scenario, the extra-terrestrial vibe, the raised blood pressure caused by harassment during complex surgery. The drive through relentless traffic. It was nothing to do with the very talkative Lola Bennett, of that he was sure.
‘Hello!’
