Connie Cox - When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

Instead, Mark walked toward the canopy set up at the end of the practice field just as one of the coaches blew his whistle.

The boys scurried to the canopy, jostling each other as they queued up.

As they received sports drinks or water, Mark would occasionally pat one on the shoulder and point toward a bench in the shade. Near the end of the line, one of the larger boys tried to protest. Even from this distance Eva could see Mark’s stance stiffen as he stared the boy down.

After a tense two seconds it was over. The boy stomped past the bench to the field house, teenage anger apparent in every line of his body.

The incident seemed to take the energy from the team as adult shoulders squared and teenage shoulders drooped all around. Eva could almost smell the testosterone in the air.

Unlike the football team, her video team was jazzed up and raring to go.

“Ready, Eva?” her cameraman asked. He was a veteran at field assignments and excited to be out of the studio.

She took the huge directional microphone from a gaffer and planted her feet.

“Ready.”

Her producer counted her down, “On three, two, one …”

Eva put on her television smile and resisted looking around for Mark. It seemed she would be working without a partner today.

“As promised, we’re at a local high school, checking out their sports program. With temperatures often over one hundred degrees, many of you are asking why the football team would hold practice today. Others are remembering their own high-school football days and beginning of the school year practices. And we’re all asking today on Ask the Doc , ‘Is it safe for our teens to physically exert themselves in this heat?’”

Before Eva could launch into her opinion, her cameraman pulled from her and changed his focus.

Eva turned to see where his lens now pointed. Mark was squatting down, looking into the faces of the boys on the bench, who had taken off their shoulder pads.

The rest of the boys, also sans shoulder pads, did crunches on the field as their coaches walked among them.

One of the coaches barked an order and they all rolled over for push-ups.

The producer pointed at her and mouthed, low enough her microphone wouldn’t pick it up, “Ready.”

She gave a silent nod and put on her media face once again.

“As you can see behind me, the boys on this team are monitored for dehydration and overheating. There are many heat-related conditions that can occur. Among the most dangerous is heatstroke, which can result in brain damage and even death.”

“That’s a cut.”

She nodded, satisfied. She’d left herself a good transition. Once in the studio and on set, she could go into the various signs and symptoms of heat cramp and heat exhaustion and the emergency medical actions to take. The information would be accompanied by several of the brightly colored bullet-point charts and visual presentations her audiences grasped so well.

Possessiveness swamped her. She’d worked hard to develop the show into an educational yet entertaining program. And now she had to share with a man who couldn’t even be counted on to stand still long enough for a three-minute field interview.

Mark trotted back towards Eva, frowning at the crew, who were packing up. He glanced at his bare wrist for the watch he never wore. Time in the E.R. went at its own pace and no amount of ticking second hands could speed it up or slow it down.

Apparently, television didn’t work like the real world.

“I missed it?”

She looked down her nose at him as only a tall woman could. “You missed it.”

“I was only gone a few minutes.”

“We only needed a few minutes of footage. Now the crew has to go back to the studio and do edits, sound adjustments, tie-ins to tomorrow’s show, the whole bit.” She gave him a patronizing smile. “You can’t be expected to know any of this with your lack of experience.”

She was right. But it still stung.

That drive to be the one in the know, to be top of his class, to handle whatever was thrown at him was the inner force that made him focus when his world was in total chaos around him. He knew how to win.

But he also knew how to be gracious. Experience had taught him that.

“I’m hoping to learn a lot from you.”

She tilted her head sideways, studying him. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Nothing to figure out.” He held his arms out wide. “What you see is what you get.”

“That’s it? Surface deep?” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Shallow?”

“Woman, you can twist words better than any fancy Southern lawyer I’ve ever known.”

“I just call ’em like I see ‘em.”

“There are some men who like their women sharp-witted and sharp-tongued.”

“But you’re not one of them?”

“I didn’t say that.” He fought hard to keep the grin off his face. That was exactly how he liked his women.

But his ex was a fancy Southern lawyer. And Mark did learn from experience, especially bad experiences.

“So what are you saying?”

“Just that I plan to get as much as I can out of this television gig. Never can tell when the experience will come in handy.”

A very large teen came loping up the hill. Eva was almost certain he was the boy who’d been sent off the field.

“Hey, Uncle Mark. All-you-can-eat pizza tonight, right? Ready to go?”

Mark gave him a thumbs-up. “I’m ready. I just hope the pizza parlor is ready for us.”

Eva squinted at the boy. He was almost as tall and just as wide as Mark. The family resemblance was strong.

As Aaron got closer to her, she saw a glassy glint in his eye that she’d seen before, a glint that promised unpredictability and that made her instinctively brace herself for whatever action the boy might take. “Aaron, say hello to Dr. Veracruz.”

“Hi.” The boy held out a huge, sweaty palm to shake her hand.

Eva fought back her natural instinct to withdraw, to protect herself.

Face your fears, Eva . That’s what her husband would say to her. But, then, she’d never been frightened when Chuck had been around. Experience had taught her differently.

She grasped his hand firmly in her own. “Nice to meet you.”

Aaron squeezed the slightest bit too tight, like a boy who wasn’t used to his own strength. Common enough at his age, right?

Eva tried to quell her worries. Maybe she was reading her own fear into her snap judgment.

And that’s why she’d pulled herself out of the field of drug and substance abuse care. Her judgment, so critical for making evaluations, was too clouded by personal emotion to be trusted.

“So, Doc, you want to eat pizza with Uncle Mark and me?”

Mark clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “No one could accuse my nephew of being shy.”

“No, he’s certainly not shy.”

Mark added his own invitation. “So how about it? It’s just pizza.”

She was usually so good with snap decisions—but that had been before. She’d promised her sister-in-law she’d embrace life in all its aspects, including enjoying the company of nice, respectful men. They all agreed her husband would never have wanted her to wallow in her widowhood.

And the deep, gut-wrenching sadness had faded, leaving lonely nostalgia behind.

“Afraid you’ll fall for my charm and wit?”

“No.” Maybe . Eva wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Her sister-in-law would say Eva was afraid of risking her heart again. But it was only pizza.

“No? That’s it? Nothing to soften the blow?”

“Somehow I think your ego is healthy enough to survive.”

Aaron rubbed his hand across his brow. “I don’t know about that, Doc. His divorce hit him pretty hard.”