Wedding Date with the Army Doc (6 page)

So that was who he rushed off to every Friday afternoon. Her spirits kept lifting with each tidbit of information Jackson dropped. “That's great.” And she really meant it.

He grimaced. “Well, we've got a lot to work out. The divorce was hard on both my sons but particularly on Evan. I've got to rebuild his trust, and we're getting there little by little.”

She admired how much Jackson's family meant to him. It put him in a good light—a man who loved his family. The more she learned about him the more she liked, and the fact he had a BKA had zero impact on his appeal. If only she could trust that her situation would be as easily dealt with by him as his was for her. Unfortunately, her experience with Derek had set her up to expect the worst.

Sooner than she expected, because they always found conversation easy, he delivered her to the car.

“So thanks, and good night, then,” she said, and as she unlocked the door and prepared to slide behind the wheel, he pecked her on the cheek. It surprised her, but in a good way, though she'd kind of wished for more and sooner than now.

“So I'll call you later, okay?”

“Sure.” She grinned, enjoying being pursued by a man she was definitely attracted to. Maybe that was why the second part of her thought slipped out. “I'd really like that.”

From the look on his face, he really liked that, too. Good!

Once inside her car, as she placed the seat belt over her shoulder and across her chest, her elation ebbed a bit. What was she thinking, acting like she was just a regular woman living a regular life, hoping to have a regular relationship with a new guy? That was ancient history for her—love, marriage, a career and family—a dream she could never achieve now.

Mindlessly, her hand brushed over her silicone pads. She was anything but regular.

But forty-five minutes later, when Charlotte was home and in her pajamas, Jackson didn't waste any time before using his newly acquired phone number. He said he'd called just to make sure she'd got home okay and to bid her good night again. She went to bed wearing a smile and thinking of his handsome face. Maybe taking a risk on a man like Jackson made perfect sense. Who could possibly be better than a guy with a BKA to understand her sense of feeling incomplete?

CHAPTER FOUR

M
ONDAY
 
MORNING
, C
HARLOTTE
 
visited Dr. Gordon, who was still in the hospital. He was undergoing aggressive chemotherapy and the oncological team decided it would be best for him to be monitored round the clock for the first couple of doses.

She put on her optimistic face, hoping her mentor didn't see right through her, since she secretly worried the therapy might be too little too late. Surprisingly, Dr. Gordon seemed in good spirits, and though the chemo had to be tough on him, he didn't complain.

Already Charlotte could see his hair and white caterpillar fuzzy brows thinning, the shine in his always inquisitive hazel eyes dulled. Memories of her mother losing her beautiful light brown hair nearly broke her heart, and how toward the end a raging fever had changed her mother's eyes to a glassy stare. At moments like these, the harsh reminders, she was glad she'd had the radical surgery to ensure she'd never have to go through what her mother had. Deep down she also knew there was no guarantee against cancer.

Charlotte fluffed Dr. Gordon's pillow, assuring him his department hadn't yet gone to hell in a handbasket, to use one of his favorite phrases, thanks to a few other pathologists pitching in along with her to cover for him. She gently replaced the pillow behind his head.

“I would expect no less, Charlotte,” he said gratefully. “I only mentor the best and brightest.”

His confidence in her skills had always amazed her, and right now a warm sense of fondness expanded to the limits of her chest as she made sure his call light was within reach and the pitcher of ice water was nearby. “Thank you,” she said, fighting back the tears that always threatened whenever she was around him these days.

“No.” He inhaled, as if continuing to talk would soon be a burden. “Thank you.” He gave a frail squeeze of her hand and she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“Don't tell anyone I did that.”

He winked. “It'll be our secret.”

She smiled and quickly left because her vision was blurring and she didn't want Dr. Gordon to see her cry. No sooner had she stepped outside his room than her cell phone vibrated. It was Jackson. She headed for the elevator and answered.

“Have dinner with me,” he said the instant after she answered. “We'll call it our rain check. I've found a great place in Westlake and it's no fun to eat out by myself.”

Well, it wasn't exactly the most romantic offer for a date, but she liked it that he'd thought of her. “Tonight?”

“Got plans?”

“I've got extra work to clear out, what with Dr. Gordon being off, and—”

“Tomorrow night, then. We'll take a rain check on our rain check.”

It only took a second to make her decision. “That should work. Sure, I'd love to.”

“Great! I'll need your address.”

The guy clearly wasn't big on chitchat. Did she want him coming to her town house in Thousand Oaks to pick her up? If he was any other first date, or someone like Antwan, she'd insist on meeting somewhere. On second thought, she'd never consent to meeting Dr. Dupree anywhere! But this was Jackson Hilstead the Third, her secret crush, the one guy in the hospital who might possibly understand her fragile body image, because he'd fought the same demons. “What time?” she asked, after giving him her street address.

“Seven.”

“That'll work.”

She hung up, grinning, her mind whirring. She had a little over twenty-four hours to clear her desk, clean up her house and find something sexy but not too revealing to wear. She hadn't been this excited about going out with a man in a long time.

Now, if she could just ignore that insecure whisper,
He won't accept you as you are
, starting up in her mind and concentrate on enjoying herself on their first date. Her first date in...she couldn't remember when.

* * *

Jackson finished his Tuesday afternoon surgery early and made hospital rounds on his patients, updating the doctor's orders on some and discharging a few others. Feeling a long-forgotten ball of excitement winding up inside over the thought of dinner with Charlotte, he grinned all the way to his car. He'd take a long run as soon as he got home to work off the edge. He hadn't looked forward to getting to know a woman like this in a long time.

He'd dated a couple of different women over the last year in California when he'd been feeling lonely and had needed a woman's company. His self-image had taken a serious hit when he'd lost part of his leg. But then, he hadn't expected to get a divorce at the time either. And when it had become obvious that his two dates hadn't been ready for an imperfect guy, he'd stopped looking around, because the rejections only a few months apart and the subsequent effect on his ego had turned out to be major. He'd been in the prime of his life and the thought of being alone from here on out had sometimes been too depressing to consider. So he'd pushed his feelings down and had gone about his days working hard and trying to put things right with his sons.

And he'd hated to admit it wasn't enough. Enter Charlotte.

He'd always taken solace in the safe haven of Dr. Charlotte Johnson's office. Reading slides with her had turned into his one indulgence with the opposite sex in the last year. He liked sitting close enough to notice whatever new perfume she chose to wear, and to catch the fire in her rich caramel-brown eyes whenever she found something interesting on one of his patients' slides to share with him. He liked it that she didn't lead with her sex, like so many other women around the hospital. They had it and they flaunted it, and it often made his basic urges get all fired up, which sometimes made it hard to concentrate.

Did a man ever grow out of that? He was forty-two, so apparently not.

But Charlotte was different. She had a fuller figure than many of the women at St. Francis Hospital, which he preferred to a woman being too thin, and though she dressed in a very feminine way, she was careful not to show too much skin. That made her interesting, and alluring in a far less blatant way than the others. Call it intriguing. But what appealed to him most of all was her no-nonsense personality. She clearly had her head on straight, and after the long, slow decline and eventual implosion of his marriage, when his wife had seemed to become his worst nightmare—granted, he'd turned into a nightmare of his former self, too—that was a welcome change. With a woman like Charlotte, maybe he could learn to trust again.

Was that asking too much?

Even the thought sent a shiver down his spine. Could he survive another rejection? Sure, she'd seen his leg and had acted as though she couldn't care less, and she'd accepted his dinner invitation, another good sign. But she was a nice woman who happened to be a pathologist and who'd probably seen it all in her job. Of course she wouldn't have let on if she'd felt disgust. He knew that much about her.

A memory of his wife finally telling him how much he repulsed her, even when he'd already known it, made his stomach burn.

He needed to make sure this date wasn't taken out of context. Yes, he wanted to get to know Charlotte more, see where it might lead, but there wasn't anything he could offer beyond that. He wasn't ready for anything else. Small steps. His policy was always honesty, so tonight he planned to put his cards on the table and see what she thought.

Keep things safe. Keep her at a distance. Protect himself.

He had to, otherwise he couldn't go through with the date.

* * *

Jackson picked up Charlotte at seven on the dot, fighting a swarm of jitters in his gut. Hell, he hadn't felt this nervous about a date since his high-school prom—and he'd taken his ex-wife as his date to that!
Man up, Hilstead. It's just dinner out. With a lady you can't seem to get out of your thoughts.

He forced his best smile, even though he'd only made it to the security call box.

Once she let him through, he strode the rest of the way to her town house, wondering if he'd made a mistake in asking her out. Maybe it was still too soon to get back in the game. Damn the nerves—how was he supposed to eat with his stomach all tied up?

Then Charlotte opened the door and blew him away. She'd worn her hair down, which always messed with his head. It waved and tumbled to her shoulders, framing her face and highlighting her warm and inviting eyes. Plus she'd dressed to kill in a cream crocheted lace dress with a modest neckline and cap sleeves. Her light olive-toned skin blended well with the choice. The only color in her outfit was from her rainbow-dyed strapped wedge sandals and bright red and orange dangly earrings. As it was early summer, she'd fit right in for the restaurant he'd chosen.

She smiled and let him in and he pretended he wasn't the least bit anxious about this date. He just hoped she didn't catch on.

Her earth-toned, stucco-covered townhome was built into the side of a hill along with dozens of others. The place had a nice view of the Conejo Valley sprawl, and he was impressed with her taste in decor. No overstuffed and patterned couches or chairs, her taste was modern, clean and almost masculine. Several canvases covered in bright colors highlighted a few walls, and he recognized the style as similar to many he'd seen in the hospital foyer after it had been newly remodeled. He vaguely remembered hearing that one of the employees had painted them, and these looked very similar in style. Seeing the paintings on Charlotte's walls, adding vibrancy to her otherwise beige palate, he wholeheartedly agreed with her choices.

But what he noticed most of all, and constantly since stepping into her house, was her, and how fantastic she looked.

She'd grabbed her purse and was ready to leave, so he quit staring at the view from her living room—because the alternative was to keep staring at her, which he really wanted to do, but he didn't want to creep her out—then followed her out the door. He'd better think up some conversation or he'd be a total dud tonight. What was his plan? Oh, yeah, lay his cards on the table. Take control of the situation from the get-go. He could do it.

“Ever hear of a place called Boccaccio's?” he asked as they walked to his car in the building's lot.

“In Westlake? Yes. Wow, it's supposed to be really nice. Are you trying to impress me?”

“I should be asking the same question, seeing how great you look.” She blushed and he not only liked how she looked, but the power her true response gave him. He could do this, have a date. “But don't get too impressed. Yes, the restaurant is right on a small lake and, yes, the view is great, but it's just a man-made lake in an otherwise landlocked city.”

“Still sounds wonderful to me. I'll just pretend it's real. Can we sit outside?”

“I was planning on it.”

She was tall and fit well next to his six feet two inches as they walked to his white sedan. So many things about her appealed to him, but he had to stand firm, let her know what he was and wasn't open to. Keep that arm's length between them, though after seeing her all decked out tonight, the thought was becoming less appealing. After they'd uncorked a bottle of wine and shared a meal together, maybe she'd understand why he needed to do things his way. He hoped so anyway.

Once they'd arrived at the restaurant, having talked about work and Dr. Gordon the entire drive over, his unease had settled down somewhat. As it was a Tuesday night they didn't have long to wait to be seated outside. It was twilight, a gorgeous summer evening, and the small lake was tinted with a peach hue as the sun said good-bye for the day. There really was something special about Californian sunsets. Charlotte was impressed, he could tell by the bright expression on her face, and how she craned her neck to take in the view from every angle, and he thought it was cute. The choice of word struck him as odd for a woman who was so much more than cute, but something in the way she crinkled her nose with delight over her surroundings put it in his head.

“I've heard good things about this place. Now I understand why.”

“The food is supposed to be as good as this view.” So far his conversation had been stiff as hell. He ordered a bottle of a good sauvignon blanc with her approval, and they set about making their dinner choices. They ordered calamari, light and crispy, for starters to share. Next he ordered a salad and she lobster bisque. For the main, she chose baby salmon piccata, and he went for the Chilean sea bass. Then the waiter left and the sommelier poured their wine.

He sat back and relaxed in the comfortable woven wicker and wrought-iron chair, thought about stretching out his legs but realized he'd bump her with his prosthesis if he did, so he stayed sitting straight up. He glanced across the table at his date, who continued to enjoy the view of the small lake and the early evening lights around the shore.

Charlotte was his date. Wow, that was a new concept. She was pretty and so damn appealing, enough to shake him up all over again. She sipped her wine and he joined her. The sweet smile she offered him afterward warmed his insides far more than the wine. She could be dangerous. He took another drink.

“I should let you know that I haven't wanted to impress a woman this much in a long time.” His honesty surprised even him.

She canted her head and gave a self-deprecating simper.

“But I've got to be honest, okay?” Build that wall.

Her intelligent eyes went serious.

“I've already told you I'm divorced, but you should also know it was a really bad one. So the thing is I'm looking for companionship, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”
Oh, right, buddy, lay it on
her
—don't dare admit
you're
a coward.

She didn't seem surprised by his opening statement, though he'd half expected her to be, and honestly, it did seem more like the opening remarks in a court of law rather than dinner with a great woman. “This is just our first date, so I'm on the same page.”