Teresa Southwick - The Wilders - Falling for the M.D.

She had an independent streak that was a mile wide and she considered it one of her chief sources of pride. It almost made her turn him down. But she also possessed more than her share of common sense and, in this case, common sense trumped independence.

So Bethany murmured, “Thank you,” and then tried to make light of the situation by adding, “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

He looked at her and she could all but feel his eyes delving into her. He was probably wondering what she was talking about, she thought. And then he surprised her by commenting, “ Streetcar Named Desire . You’re a lot younger than Blanche DuBois.”

She nodded, impressed. “You’re familiar with the play?”

The corners of his mouth curved in amusement. “We’re not entirely backward here. Town’s got a library with books on the shelves and everything.”

She hadn’t meant to insult him, or be patronizing. It was just that she wasn’t accustomed to people who were versed in the arts. Her world had always revolved around business and she’d naturally assumed that his did the same around medicine.

A pink hue overtook her cheeks as Bethany pointed out her vehicle. “The car’s right over there.”

He gave her his arm to hang on to. They proceeded carefully. His shoes were rubber soled and he was far more sure-footed than she was, but he took small steps to match her pace. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they went.

“Is it true?” he asked, breaking the silence just as they reached her sedan.

She wasn’t sure what he was asking about. “That it’s my car?”

They’d reached their intended destination, but he was in no hurry to reclaim his arm. He rather liked the way she held on to it. “That you’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

Maybe that had been giving too much of herself away, even though it had sounded like a flippant remark. “Well, I’ve moved around a bit, so most of the people I interact with are strangers.”

Which brought up another question in his mind. “Why did you move around so much? Army brat?”

The question made her laugh. Her father in a uniform, now there was an image. “Hardly. Both my parents made their mark in the corporate world.” Nannies had raised her and her older sister because her parents put in ten-, twelve-hour days, seduced by the promise of success, then working even harder once it came. “For the most part, I lived in New York until I went away to college.”

“And afterward?”

“Afterward, I moved around.”

“Which brings us back to why?” He looked into her eyes. “Unless you think it’s none of my business.”

It wasn’t, but she answered him anyway. “I was looking for the right fit,” she replied, and then asked a question of her own. “Is this part of some psychological workup, Dr. Wilder?”

He shook his head. “Not my department.” And then he looked down into her eyes. “We’ve kissed in the snow, Bethany. I think we can dispense with the formalities, don’t you?”

She shrugged, looking away. The parking lot had thinned out a great deal. What was left had a layer of snow on it. “I guess maybe we can. Does this mean you’re going to use my first name when you growl at me at the next meeting?”

“I didn’t growl,” he protested. “I just raised my voice a little.”

She smirked at him.

Peter blew out a breath. She was right, he’d let his anger get the better of him. “If I growled, I apologize. For the sound, not the sentiment,” he emphasized, wanting to be honest with her.

Bethany inclined her head. They’d made a little progress, she supposed. “Fair enough. Does this mean that you’re willing to listen to the positive side of NHC taking over the hospital?”

She asked the question with a smile that he found very difficult to resist. He supposed that he could listen. That didn’t mean she could convince him, because some things were written in stone. But to refuse to listen made him out to be irrationally stubborn and he didn’t want her thinking of him that way. Not after what had just happened between them.

“I might be willing to listen,” he allowed, enunciating each word.

“But?” she pressed, sensing that the word was hovering about, waiting to emerge from his lips.

“No ‘but,’” he assured her. “Just a condition.”

“A condition,” she echoed. “What condition?”

She was looking at him warily. It amused him. No one had ever thought of him as someone to be wary of. “If you let me buy you a cup of coffee, I let you talk.”

He expected her to be relieved, and perhaps a little embarrassed for being so suspicious. She appeared to be neither.

“Is this going to be like the last time you bought me coffee? You walked out on me in mid-sentence,” she reminded him when he looked at her quizzically.

“No, it won’t,” he said with a warm smile. “This isn’t going to be like the last time. You can finish your sentence and I’ll finish my coffee.” He turned to his right. “There’s a coffee shop two blocks down. It’s open late. Is that out of your way?”

“No, it’s not.”

Maybe he wasn’t quite the stick-in-the-mud she had thought he was. Lord knows he didn’t kiss like a stick-in-the-mud. He kissed like a man who knew his way around women. But then, she didn’t have much experience in that area.

Bethany smiled up at him and nodded. “Okay, you’re on.” She glanced over toward his car. “I can drive,” she suggested. “Since your car looks like it’s gone into hibernation for the winter.”

“No, I think I should dig it out.” The sooner he got it running again, the better. “Don’t go anywhere,” he cautioned.

“And miss the chance of engaging in another argument with the chief of staff?” she teased. “I think not.”

He stopped. “Temporary chief of staff,” he reminded her.

“You could be chief permanently if you wanted the position.”

She said it with such certainty, he almost believed that she meant it. He wanted to set her straight before things got too complicated. Peter shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

Bethany stared at him. He wasn’t being modest, she realized—he was serious. He didn’t want to be chief. She couldn’t understand that. Couldn’t understand not wanting to advance, not being driven to strive ever further. She couldn’t understand a man who wasn’t goal oriented, who didn’t want to climb to the top of the mountain just to claim it. Her whole life had been filled with personal challenges, with pushing herself to the next goal, the next finish line. It was all she’d ever known.

“Why not?” she asked, mystified.

The answer was simple. “Because I’m busy enough. Because being chief of staff or chairman of the board of directors or holding down any official position that has to do with the hospital, takes time away from doing what I was meant to do, what I love doing. I love being a doctor. I love helping people.”

“You could help them more in a position of power,” Bethany insisted. “You could dictate policy if you were the chairman.”

He decided that she must have known far more influential chairmen than the one who ran the hospital’s board. “No, I couldn’t. I could make suggestions and have them up for a vote, during which time I would spend my time arguing with a bright up-and-coming Princeton MBA graduate.”

She smiled. “And this is different from the present situation how?”

He grinned. “Well, right now I have more time to devote to my patients than I would if I were tangled up in all the paperwork and demands on my time that either position ultimately requires.”

Peter saw her nod her head, whether in agreement or because she was just giving up, he didn’t know. But for now, it was enough.