Lorna Michaels - The Truth About Elyssa

Sunlight from unshaded windows flooded the room. The windows looked out over the emergency room entrance. Elyssa glanced outside just as two orderlies rushed a gurney up the ramp and into the building. “Some view.”

He followed her gaze, shrugged. “It’s temporary.”

That’s right, she remembered. He’d have a different office, presumably with a better view, when the new children’s cancer hospital opened. She remembered hearing that his mentor, Dr. Madigan, had lured him to Indianapolis to head the new facility. Being established here ahead of time would allow him input into the hospital’s development. Sharp man.

Brett gestured toward an armchair. Elyssa sat and he dropped onto the couch across from her and stretched out his long legs. “Elyssa Jarmon,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully. “I recognized your name on the proposal. Channel 9, right?”

“Yes.” Sharp man with a good memory.

“I was a big fan of yours. I used to look forward to seeing you on the news every night. Then I went to a medical conference in Denmark. When I came back, you’d vanished.” He looked at her speculatively.

She stiffened, hearing the unspoken, “What happened?” Because she’d once been a local celebrity, people thought her life was public property. Elyssa disagreed. Even if the person fishing for info had eyes that reminded her of crushed velvet and a voice like velvet, too.

“I made a career change.” That was as much as she cared to say. Quickly she changed the subject. “I noticed you watching the clown show. Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much. You’ve been entertaining the kids for a couple of weeks now. Today was your…third visit.”

“You know that?” Elyssa asked, astonished.

“You sound surprised.”

“I imagine for a department head, clown shows must be way down on the list of priorities.”

His lips curved in amusement. “When something matters, I do my homework. Clown shows matter.” He leaned forward. “Laughter’s important. It helps kids get well. I could show you some research—” Her raised brows stopped him. “Nah, you don’t want to read that dry stuff. Just take my word for it, you’re on the right track with these kids. Trace, for instance. Today’s the first time I heard him laugh.”

“I was beginning to wonder if he could.”

“It’ll be easier for him now. You’ve given him a start.”

“Thanks. I hope so.” Relieved, she settled back in the chair. He obviously didn’t intend to cut out the shows.

He looked at her thoughtfully, then asked, “Could you do more? I’d like to have you here twice a week, unless you have another job that takes your time.”

“No,” she said. “Clowning Around is a full-time business. I do birthday parties, clown classes, magic classes.”

His expressive brown eyes lit up. “Clown classes—that’s what I want. A way for you to work closely with a few kids at a time. Would you be interested?”

She stared out the window and thought about his suggestion. She’d like to say yes. She enjoyed working with these children; they tugged at her heart. But could she afford to take another afternoon away from her business? Turn down lucrative jobs?

She looked back to find his eyes on her. He studied her intently as if he wanted to learn everything about her. Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t look away. The room seemed to heat up around her.

Gracious, the man was sexy, with that lazy, relaxed veneer over a core of energy and intensity. She glanced surreptitiously at the ring finger of his left hand. It was bare.

Time was when she would have been delighted to think he might be available, might have hoped something would develop between them. But that time was past.

The accident had changed her. She wasn’t disfigured—her nose was just a tad crooked and only a crisscross of tiny scars marred her cheek—but her face wasn’t the flawless one that had graced thousands of television screens. And the scars inside were deeper. In the past sixteen months she’d absorbed some hard facts about male-female attraction. She was a fast learner; she didn’t need another lesson.

“What do you say?” Brett asked softly.

She realized she’d been staring at him in mute fascination for long seconds instead of answering his question. She told herself to douse the sparks of attraction she once might have welcomed and to concentrate on business. “I’ll do it,” she said.

“Great.” His smile made his eyes crinkle. “We’ll find some grant money to pay for your time. When can you start?”

She knew her schedule by heart. “Next Tuesday.”

“I’ll have Jean, my secretary, fax you a list of kids you should work with.”

They rose and faced each other, a good three feet apart. It felt much too close.

Ordering herself to be polite and impersonal, she put out her hand. His closed over it—warm, firm and much too personal. “I’d like to talk to you afterward,” he murmured. “Save half an hour, okay?”

“Okay.” Darn it, her voice sounded too breathy.

He walked her out, and Elyssa started down the hall. A small boy on crutches came toward her. His eyes brightened as he passed her, and she turned to watch him slowly make his way toward Dr. Cameron. “Hey, Doc, look at me,” he called and hobbled to the tall doctor’s side. Brett’s face softened.

As he squatted beside the youngster, Elyssa felt a tug on her sleeve. She pivoted and saw a solemn, freckle-faced girl of about eight. “I liked your show. Will you come back?”

“Sure will,” Elyssa said in her Lulu voice. “Next week.”

She waved at the now-smiling girl and started to walk on, then paused and turned, her eyes once again drawn to Brett Cameron.

He was headed toward his office, his back to her. As if he felt her gaze, he swung around, and their eyes locked. His lips curved into a smile of such potent male charm that Elyssa caught her breath. She felt a flutter in her stomach that traveled all the way down to her toes.

Brett raised a hand in farewell, and his mouth formed the word, “Tuesday.”

Elyssa nodded. “See you.”

Yes, that would be okay, as long as he didn’t see her.

That evening Elyssa picked up Jenny Barber and her two children at the hotel and headed to a local pizzeria. Randy’s widow had moved back to her hometown in Tennessee shortly after his death. She and Elyssa kept up with each other by phone and e-mail, but Elyssa had been looking forward to Jenny’s first visit here.

They’d become friends during Randy’s tenure at Channel 9, though they were an unlikely duo. Elyssa stayed firmly focused on her career goals; Jenny was inclined to take in the sights along the way. Although she worked as a pre-school teacher, Jenny was a nester. She’d have been content to stay at home, raise her children and tend a garden. Elyssa was endowed with Midwestern drive and tenacity; Jenny was easygoing and as Southern as corn bread and collard greens. And yet, they’d become close.

While they ate, Elyssa studied her friend. Jenny had lost weight. Once softly rounded, she was now slender, almost bony. And the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed. That was natural, Elyssa guessed, considering the shock and loss she’d experienced.

Between bites of pizza, Elyssa told Tara and Amy, ages seven and five, about Lulu’s magic tricks. Then, enticed by the video games across the room, the girls ran off to try their luck.

Elyssa smiled. “Those games’ll keep them busy for a while. Now we can really talk. Is living in Knoxville working for you?”

“Yes,” Jenny said, staring down at her plate. Her slice of pizza untouched, she twisted a strand of light-brown hair around her finger.

Elyssa frowned. Jenny without an appetite? And nervous? She’d never seen that before. “Really?”