first glimpse of a doctor in a wheelchair.”
Truth was, she hadn’t even noticed the wheelchair.
“That’s why I didn’t stand to greet you. Can’t.” He shrugged indifferent shoulders. “Don’t particularly want to, either.”
“You are a piece of work, Dr. Rousseau.”
He stared at her over the top of his glasses for a moment. Appraising her. Taking in every last little bit. “So how would you like it if someone came to your office just to look at your blond hair …?” Shoulder length with a slight wave. “Or your green eyes. How would you like that, Miss …?”
“Dr. Anne Sebastian.”
“How would you like that, Dr. Sebastian?”
“Actually, if a man wants to look, it’s not a big deal.”
“If you were in a wheelchair, it would be.”
“Then that’s who you are? Who you want to be known as? The doctor in the wheelchair?”
“Your minute’s up,” he said, pushing his glasses back up his nose and turning his attention to the mountains of employment paperwork on his desk.
“Then give me another minute.”
“And the reason for that would be?”
“Lunch?” She heard herself say the words, and couldn’t believe they’d come out of her mouth. What in the world had possessed her?
“Seriously? You want to have lunch with me? Or did you draw the short straw and you’re the one elected to be nice to the disabled guy?”
“Believe me, if that was the reason, I’d be the first one backing out of it and running away. And I do mean running because I’m not about to give in to your poor-me-in-a-wheelchair attitude and cop some wary attitude when I’m forced to be around you.”
Marc actually laughed. “My reputation really has preceded me, hasn’t it?”
“Let’s just say that one of your former colleagues at Mercy wished me luck and said something to the effect that it was better me than her.”
“If I were insulted, I’d try to guess which one, but I really don’t give a damn because this is a job and I’m not here to win a popularity contest.”
“Trust me, you’d come in last place.”
He actually gave her a genuinely nice smile. “Is your motive really just to ask me to lunch?”
Her heart fluttered just a bit all because of a single smile. “Someone has to.”
“I can carry my own tray.”
“In our doctors’ dining room we have table service. Otherwise, by the end of the week, I’m sure someone would have already dumped their tray on your head.”
“Lucky for me,” he said as he wheeled out from behind his desk. “And just so you’ll know, I’m an incomplete, I have full sensation, full function, except for walking.”
“And just so you’ll know, I don’t give a damn about your sensation or your function or any other man things you might wish to confide.”
“Man hater, are you? Or do you prefer the ladies?”
“Oh, I prefer men. Just not right now and not for the foreseeable future.”
“I’m assuming it’s a long, sad story,” he said as he followed Anne to the hall.
“Longest and saddest. And the rest of it’s none of your business.”
“You know how hospital staff talks,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
“Let ‘em talk. Better them than me.” Surprisingly, he picked up a brisk pace, one she found quite difficult to keep up with. Was he testing her or trying to prove something? Admittedly, he did have a lot of strength, and the way he wheeled was something to behold, something athletic.
“Keep up,” he said, slowing his pace a little. “I don’t know where the dining room is, and I’m trusting that you’re going to show me sometime this afternoon. But at that slow pace …”
“Just shut up and wheel,” she said as a smile crept to her face. Yes, he was going to be a challenge. Maybe her biggest one ever. But he did have a grudge to work out, and a whole lot of anger he was going to have to learn to curb. Without therapy! Now, that was the part that was going to be difficult for her—just as Jason had anticipated—not getting involved in such a way as to help him solve his issues.
“By the way, since you asked me to lunch, you are paying for it, aren’t you?”
“Seriously?” she said, fighting back a laugh. If she did get through to this hulk of a man, Jason was going to owe her big time. Big, big time!
“I UNDERSTAND YOU met him,” Jason said to Anne.
“He sat at one end of a table for eight, I sat at the other. Nobody sat between us. And we didn’t talk. Not one word. I paid for his lunch and when he was through eating, he left. Thanked me for my hospitality and simply left.”
“But other than that, how was he?”
“Rude, arrogant, obnoxious, fixed on his work to the point of not even noticing anybody else there.” Her office was adjacent to her treatment room, and both were very relaxed and cozy. An immediate warm feeling drifted down over most of her patients when they came in, and that was done on purpose. Her walls were medium blue, her furniture a lighter blue accented in white, and the music piped in was a soothing Vivaldi or Bach. Atmosphere made a difference in so many of her cases, and she tried hard to achieve that comfort, as comfort equated to trust.
“But workable?”
“That, I don’t know. He’s as resistant a person as I’ve ever met. So this one is going to be the flip of a coin.”
“But you’ll try, since the majority of your referrals will come from him?”
“For a while. But if I see that he’s not working out, you’ll hear from me, Jason. And probably not just me.” Just as that threat rolled off her tongue, she received a text. When she checked it, it said: “See. I don’t bite. Lunch tomorrow?”
Anne sighed.
“What?” Jason asked.
“Nothing. Just an invite to lunch tomorrow,” she said, forcing a smile. “Lucky me.”
Jason headed for the door. “Just be careful, Anne, and you’ll be fine.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle him.” How was the question, though, especially since Jason seemed to have made her the one-person welcome committee, probably owing to
