in common, including a love of nature, which was precisely how she’d ended up sitting in a small outdoor café on her day off, taking a break from the myriad tourists who had flocked to the zoo on a sunny January afternoon following a few days of freezing temperatures.
“Exactly how did you manage this little excursion, Doctor?” she asked.
“Easy. I bought tickets at the gate.”
Considering his talent for teasing, she should have known not to expect a straight answer. “I meant, how did you manage to take the day off to entertain me?”
“I called in sick.”
She looked up from her purple plastic souvenir cup to find that his grin alone indicated he was lying. “You did not.”
“It’s my scheduled day off. Do you really think I’d call in sick when I run the risk of having to explain that to your dad, Annie?”
She bit back the urge to panic. “My father knows you’re out with me?”
“Not unless you told him.”
No, she hadn’t told him, or her mother. “I decided not to say anything, just in case. I was afraid it might create complications for you.” And for her. “I also don’t want people believing there’s more between us than friendship.”
Jack frowned. “Are you worried some of my fellow residents might cry favoritism if they knew I was fraternizing with the chief’s daughter?”
“Yes. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not unless it bothers you.”
“You say that now, but I doubt you’d be so cavalier about it if word got out.”
“I’ll deal with it if I have to.” He pushed his own cup aside. “Want to go check out the gorillas now?”
“The gorillas can wait. First, I want to talk awhile longer.” They’d been too engrossed in competition during the golf game for Anne to garner any intimate details, and he’d been in too big of a hurry during their previous phone conversations.
Jack leaned back in his chair and stacked his hands behind his neck. “Okay. Talk.”
“You’ve never told me about your family.”
His expression turned serious and hinted at sadness. “I have a brother who’s a banker. He’s married and lives in Boston. My mother died two years ago from breast cancer. When I was eleven, my dad died from restrictive cardiomyopathy.”
Like so many doctors she’d known, he’d been driven into medicine by personal experience, when she’d secretly hoped he’d been motivated by the money, prestige, power—all valid reasons for her to cling to the last of her resistance. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
“So am I.” He straightened, his hands clasped tightly before him on the table. “Back then, all I could do was watch him die. If I can prevent that from happening to someone else’s family member, then the hell I go through to become a transplant surgeon will be worth it.”
A transplant surgeon. No wonder her father held Jack in such high esteem. “Sounds like you have a long road ahead of you, educationally speaking.”
“At least four more years of residency, then probably a couple of fellowships, with heavy emphasis on heart-lung transplantation. I could be looking at another ten years or so before I’m on my own.”
Ten years of grueling training, long days and longer nights. He wouldn’t have time for a serious relationship or a family. A definite negative to add to the pro-con list Anne had been compiling since they’d met. “And to think I’m worried about how long it’ll take to get my master’s.”
“Your dad didn’t mention you’re in school.”
“I’m not right now. I’ve only been out of college for two years, and I needed a break. But I plan to go back eventually, after I hone my clinical skills.”
“Exactly how old are you, Annie?”
She was surprised he hadn’t asked before now. “I turned twenty-three last September.”
“You sure as hell seem a lot older.”
Hadn’t she been told that before? “I’m an only child, and only children tend to grow up fast. Plus I attended the best college-prep boarding school money can buy, so I’ve basically lived independently of my parents since the age of fourteen. How old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-six this summer.”
She’d had him pegged to be at least four years her senior. “And you’re already a surgical resident?”
“I graduated from high school at seventeen, immediately entered premed and knocked that out in three years. Following medical school, I did one year of internship before I was accepted into Regional’s program.”
“Wow. I guess that makes you some sort of child prodigy.”
“Nope. That makes me determined. When I want something badly enough, I do everything in my power to get it. No holds barred. And that’s why you’re here with me now.”
Anne supposed she should be flattered, but in a way she was uneasy. Uneasy over the look he was giving her at the moment—a look that had nothing to do with simple camaraderie.
A shrill, distress-filled cry drew their attention to a little girl pointing at a red balloon that had managed to drift to the top of the cabana roof covering the area. Jack immediately pushed out of his chair and, with little effort, grabbed the dangling string, then returned the prized souvenir to its distraught owner. When the child rewarded him with a vibrant smile and introduced herself as Sara, Jack knelt before her and asked her about her day. Anne looked on as he listened to the little girl describe her activities, as if he had all the time in the world. The young mother, a fussy toddler in her arms, appeared mesmerized by the man who had saved her daughter from a round of hysteria.
When Jack came back to the table, Anne couldn’t help but smile. “Looks like you’ve done your good deed for the day, Dr. Morgan.”
He gave her a no-big-deal shrug. “I like kids. In fact, I thought about specializing in pediatric cardiology, but then I realized how tough it would be to lose one.”
The man was simply too good to be real. Surely beneath that white-knight exterior some serious flaws existed. He probably snored. He probably trailed dirty clothes through his apartment. He probably notched his little black bag with every sexual conquest. She didn’t plan to be another notch or his good-time girl, available whenever he found a spare moment for her.
He favored her with the same winning smile he’d given the little girl. “So tell me, Annie, why did you decide to birth those babies?”
She couldn’t resist teasing the teaser. “Listening to women in excruciating pain wail at the top of their lungs is a good form of birth control.”
“You’re not serious.”
He seemed so disturbed Anne laughed. “Of course I’m not serious. There’s something miraculous about seeing a new life come into the world and hearing that first cry. The story doesn’t always end happily. Sometimes babies don’t make it, and a few times we’ve lost a mother. Those are the tough days, but at least that doesn’t happen very often.”
He mulled it over for a moment before reaching across the table to clasp her hand. “Now, see there, Annie? You enjoy bringing new life into the world, and I want to save lives. Just one more thing we have in common.”
One more thing among many. They both had a passion for sports. They had the same taste in music—from classical to country. They both had a weakness for cheeseburgers with the works. They shared a certain chemistry that was almost palpable, even though they had yet to kiss. A large divide existed between friendship and something more, and she was beginning to move toward the “something more” side.
The