Debbie Macomber - Thursdays at Eight

Time. This should be the best time of my life. I have a fabulous career. When I started out at Willow Grove Memorial, I never dreamed that one day I’d end up as the hospital administrator. My children have grown into responsible adults. I had a wonderful marriage and I’ve got lots of memories to sustain me. Yes, this should be a good time, and it will be—once I learn how to live contentedly by myself.

Liz stared at the phone on her desk, dreading its ring. Her Monday had begun badly, and already she could see that this first week of the new year was going to be a repeat of December, with many of the same problems she’d faced then. The hospital was no closer to a new contract with the nurses’ union, and the state health inspectors were scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. In addition, she’d had several hot flashes and been downing Chai tea with soy milk all morning. This was not a good start to the year, she thought gloomily.

She got up and removed her jacket, placing it on a hanger. Then she unfastened the top button of her white silk blouse and rolled the long sleeves past her elbows. Picking up a piece of paper from the desk, she fanned her flushed face and paused to look out the sixth-floor window to the parking lot below.

“I can see I’ve cornered you at a good moment.” It was a deep male voice, one Liz immediately identified.

“Dr. Jamison,” she said in a crisp, professional tone. He was rarely at Willow Grove Memorial. Most of his patients were admitted to Laurelhurst Children’s Hospital, where he worked primarily with premature infants. Sean Jamison was an excellent pediatrician but he had a well-deserved reputation for being demanding, impatient and arrogant—an arrogance that found expression in his womanizing behaviour. Liz couldn’t fault his medical skills, but when it came to dealing with staff, he could use a few lessons in emotional maturity.

“Come now,” he said, his voice seductive, “we know each other well enough for you to call me Sean.”

Liz stepped behind her desk and resumed her seat, motioning for him to sit down, too. “How can I help you?”

“This is more of a social visit.” He claimed the closest chair and struck a casual pose, crossing his legs and balancing one ankle on the opposite knee. He relaxed, leaning back as if he was settling in for a long visit. “I stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m busy,” she said quickly, thinking he might have time for chitchat but she didn’t.

He ignored her lack of welcome. “How was your New Year’s Eve?”

So that was it. He’d asked her out—well, sort of. What he’d done was propose that they get together, the invitation flavored with sexual innuendo, and she’d promptly refused. Although she’d been a widow for six years, Liz rarely dated. Opportunities were available, had she been interested. For the most part, she wasn’t.

“I had a lovely night. What about you?” From Sean’s reaction she’d realized it wasn’t often a woman turned him down. Liz had certainly heard all the rumors about Dr. Jamison. He was tall, sandy-haired and craggy-faced, with an undeniable presence; comparisons to Harrison Ford were regularly made—by women from twenty to sixty. Sean possessed the ageless appeal of a man who was smart, handsome, wealthy and single. The hospital was full of gossip about him, and more than one of the female nurses had fallen under his spell. Divorced for ten years, Sean Jamison seemed to consider himself a prize to be caught. He never dated anyone for long and Liz disliked his arrogant approach in romance as much as she deplored his indifference to staff relations.

Liz and Steve had met in high school, and other than the normal ups and downs that were part of any longstanding relationship, they’d had a good, solid marriage. She wasn’t interested in a fling, no matter how handsome or wealthy the man.

Sean’s attention confused her, although she’d never allow him to see that. From what she understood, he generally went out with women several years younger than he was. While Liz kept fit and watched her diet, she wasn’t a trim thirty-year-old. With loving humor, Steve had suggested that her hourglass figure had begun to show an hour and ten minutes. She still smiled whenever she thought of that.

“Stayed home New Year’s, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, and crossed her arms, letting him know she wasn’t open to a discussion involving her private life, “but as I said, I had a perfectly lovely evening.”

“All alone?”

“I happen to enjoy my own company.” Standing, she braced both hands on the edge of her cherrywood desk. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“I’m willing to give you another chance to go out with me.”

“No, thanks.”

He grinned, dismissing her rejection as though it was her loss, not his. Then he stood and turned away, ambling toward the door.

“Sean,” she said, shocking herself just a little.

His smile firmly in place, he raised his eyebrows. “Change your mind?”

“As a matter of fact, no,” she said, knowing that for some reason she didn’t want this conversation to end the same way the others had.

“No?” He arched his eyebrows again, affecting a look of mild surprise.

“This is the second time you’ve stopped by my office to ask me out.”

He didn’t comment.

“I’ve turned you down both times,” she reminded him. “And I’m wondering if you’ve asked yourself why.”

“It’s self-explanatory,” he murmured. “You’re afraid.”

“It’s more than that.”

He shrugged carelessly, and she could practically read his response. No big deal. Plenty of women willing to take him up on his offer.

“It’s your attitude.”

For the first time in their lengthy association, Sean appeared to be at a loss for words.

“I’m not some bimbo you can schmooze into bed. This might come as news to you, but there’s more to a relationship than what happens between a man and a woman in the bedroom.”

He stared at her, as if daring her to continue. “I happen to think you’re one of the finest pediatricians in this state,” she went on. “I respect your diagnostic and medical skills, and I’ve seen the way you are with the children. My regard for your professional abilities is immense. But your manner with most people in this hospital leaves a lot to be desired, and frankly I’m not impressed.”

“Is this the long version of why you’re not interested in dating me?” he asked with barely disguised disdain.

“Actually…I’d like to get to know you.”

His look implied that he wasn’t sure he should believe her. “You have an odd way of saying so.”

Despite his apparent indifference, she knew this couldn’t be easy on his ego. “I suspect there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Great. Your place or mine?”

Liz wanted to groan out loud. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said! “Neither.” She held the door for him and added soberly, “When you’re ready to see me as an intelligent, mature woman whose professional interests are compatible with yours, let me know.” She leaned against the open door. “Otherwise you’re wasting your time.”

“I doubt that,” he said as he stepped past and paused to touch his lips to her cheek. “Give me a call when you’re ready for some excitement in your life.”

Liz rolled her eyes. Forget it, Doctor. I have enough excitement just dealing with all the staff complaints against you.

Some people never learned.

KAREN CURTIS

“The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely”