The Surgeon's One Night to Forever Page 9

  Liz braced herself, ready to get up and go if he made some fatuous comment about the sex, or spouted some romantic nonsense. So she made her tone cool as she asked, “What?”

  “I’m starving.”

  That was so unexpected it startled a chuckle from her throat before she could stop it. Then her stomach rumbled, as though in agreement, and he laughed too.

  Liz replied, “I guess I am too. What do you feel like having?”

  She was thinking about the leftover Chinese in the kitchen, but Cort had other ideas.

  “Arepas,” he said promptly, following it with a little hum, as though already tasting them. “I haven’t had a really good pulled pork arepa sandwich since I got here.”

  Now, that was something she could help with. Her love of food was well known among her intimates, and one of her favorites was Hispanic food in all its various incarnations.

  “Colombian or Venezuelan?” Already she was running through a list of her favorite spots, trying to figure out which was closest.

  “Mmm, Colombian for preference, although both are delicious.”

  Liz bounced out of bed to start looking for her scattered clothes. “Great, because there’s a place about ten blocks from here that sells the most amazing Colombian food you’ve ever tasted outside Bogotá.”

  “Isn’t it kind of late?”

  Liz glanced at her watch, and then gave him a wrinkled brow look. He was still lying in bed, his arms crossed behind his head, as relaxed as anything.

  And so delicious her insides melted a little.

  Having that broad chest on display in front of her almost made her give up her planned excursion and hop back into bed, but once set on a course it usually took a stick of dynamite to divert her.

  Hands planted on her hips, she asked, “Are you kidding? This is New York City. Whatever you want to eat, whenever you want to eat it, you can find a place, and I know most of them. You coming with me or what?”

  “All right, all right. Don’t get bent out of shape,” he grumbled, as he swung his legs out of bed, making her mouth water.

  And not for the promised food.

  He strolled over to his chest of drawers, looking back at her over his shoulder. “I was enjoying the sight of you running around looking for your clothes.”

  “Ha-ha,” she replied, heading for the bathroom and not mentioning how much she had enjoyed the view of him emerging from under the covers like some mythic god rising from the sea.

  The night was cold. The earlier fluffy snow had morphed into small, stinging bits of ice, and Liz and Cort spent much of the journey to the restaurant talking about the never-ending winter and wondering if spring would ever arrive. They agreed the flu outbreak seemed to have slowed, but if the weather continued to be cold, it could pick up again.

  The small restaurant, La Tortuga Roja, was down a short alley off a main road, and not visible from the sidewalk. While the outside seemed grubby, the inside was clean and simply decorated, and it was full.

  Cort looked around with obvious surprise.

  “I guess I wasn’t the only person craving arepas,” he remarked.

  “Apparently not,” she replied, leading the way to the only available booth.

  After the waitress had brought menus and taken their drink orders, Cort asked, “How do you know about this place?”

  “I like food.” There was the familiar nagging shame she’d been fighting her entire life, but she just lifted her chin and continued, “I always try to find the best restaurants I can for the different types of food I like, usually by asking someone who comes from the country or region where it’s native.”

  “That makes sense.” He was looking at the menu, a little line between his brows. “I love food too, although I’ll be the first to tell you I can be picky.”

  “I’d have thought the army would have cured you of that.”

  He glanced up, a smile lighting his face. “Not even the foster-care system cured me of being picky.”

  He spoke so easily about what had to have been a difficult and perhaps frightening childhood. That, along with the knowledge their relationship had a predetermined shelf life, caused Liz to open up in a way she normally wouldn’t.

  “I had a love-hate relationship with food when I was young, now it’s just a love affair.”

  Cort’s gaze sharpened. “Love-hate? As in an eating disorder?”

  It felt good to talk about it. She never did, but he somehow made it easy to reply. “Looking back on it now, as a medical practitioner, I don’t think I was there yet. I was, however, doing unhealthy things, trying to achieve unrealistic goals and make other people happy.”

  Her mother had never overtly said anything, but there had been others not so kind. Are you sure you want another piece? Oh, you’ve put on so much weight. She’d compared her chunky, preteen self to the girls in her class and to her waif-thin mother, and had felt inadequate.

  “How old were you?”

  Liz closed her menu, having decided what she wanted to eat. “It was between the ages of about ten and fourteen. I take after my father’s side of the family, who are all big, raw-boned people. My mother, on the other hand, had a tiny Japanese grandmother, and the rest of her family isn’t much bigger. I know she must still look at me and wonder how she produced such a huge human.”

  She could say it with amusement now, but when she’d been the fat kid at school, taunted by the other girls, picked on by the boys, it had been anything but funny. Not even the knowledge that she was smart and capable and had wanted to be a doctor had made her not long to fit in. Or taken away the need to see admiration in her mother’s eyes. Just being a straight A student hadn’t seemed enough.

  “What changed?”

  “Now, that’s a story in itself.”

  Just then the waitress brought their drinks and, since they’d both decided what they wanted, took their orders. As soon as she walked away, Cort said, “So, what happened?”

  Liz let a little smile pull at her lips. His enthusiastic interest was pretty cute.

  “My mother started talking about my debutante ball.”

  His brow wrinkled slightly. “Not sure I know what that is.”

  “Lucky you. It’s just a big formal dance where very rich people put their daughters on parade. At least, that’s how I see it. My mom, however, was far more excited. She didn’t know what was happening to me in school, how the same girls I was going to have to go to the ball with despised me, and I despised them. Just the thought of having to wear a ballgown made me want to break out in hives.”

  Cort’s eyebrows lifted. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “At the time it felt like they were opening the gates of hell and telling me to step in. Truthfully, I was so scared of having everyone compare me to the other girls, seeing how much bigger I was than them, how different I looked.”

  Or being compared to her mother, who’d won beauty contests and been voted “Most Popular” in school. By every measure, except scholastically, Liz had seen herself as a failure.

  “Now I realize I was frightened, but back then I convinced myself I was taking a stand for feminism and equality. I told my parents I didn’t want to go to a ball, I wanted to be a doctor, and doctors didn’t need to be debs.”

  Cort was actually leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his intent gaze fixed on her face. “How did that go down?”

  She chuckled. “Like a lead balloon. They tried to reason with me, but I was terrified and determined and wouldn’t give in. The one good thing to come out of it was that they sent me to boarding school in England the next school year.”

  “Why’d they do that?” Cort sounded both perplexed and a little angry. “What did they hope to achieve?”

  “Not sure. I never asked, but being there, meeting new people just as I started to grow into my bod
y, made all the difference in my confidence. For the first time in my life I knew no one was comparing me to my mother, or expecting me to be anyone other than I was. The friends I made then are still my best ones, because they accepted me exactly as I was.”

  Of course, her transformation hadn’t happened overnight, and it had taken Andrew to completely cure her of the urge to try to change to please others. He’d reiterated all the bad things she’d felt her parents thought about her, and she’d realized that if she didn’t accept herself the way she was, she’d never be happy in her skin.

  A shadow crossed Cort’s face, the corners of his mouth dipping down for an instant, before he said, “Yeah, having friends is important, especially at that age.”

  Another story she itched to hear, yet something in his eyes made her hesitate to ask. Instead, as the waitress approached with a groaning tray, she said, “Oh, good, here comes our food.”

  And thereafter the conversation turned to other, less personal things, while her curiosity simmered in the back of her mind. Cort Smith was turning out to be far more interesting than she could ever have imagined, even outside the bedroom.

  * * *

  Cort had a hard time believing he was sitting across from a totally relaxed Liz Prudhomme at ten o’clock on a Friday night, eating an arepa stuffed with lechona. As he took a bite of his sandwich, the delicious pork filling practically melting in his mouth, he watched Liz help herself to a sampling of the various dishes on the table—arroz con coco, carne asado and tostones, as well as arepas to go with it all.

  He contemplated what she’d revealed about her childhood, having a difficult time picturing her as an outcast in any setting. Now, as an adult, her confidence seemed unassailable but clearly it hadn’t always been that way.

  Knowing she came from a wealthy family, if he’d thought about her childhood at all he’d have guessed she’d always been surrounded by admiring friends who’d wanted to be just like her. Probably a letter athlete and class president as well, like the star of a teen movie of the week.

  Just went to show you really couldn’t judge what a person’s life had been just from outward appearances.

  Hearing that little bit of personal information made him hungry for more. From the moment they’d met in Mexico, Liz had proven herself adept at getting him to talk about his life without revealing much about hers. Despite how easily she was divulging information now, he figured he’d have to be careful not to have her clam up on him again. He knew, without a doubt, she wouldn’t hesitate to cut him off at the knees if she thought he was overstepping his bounds.

  Swallowing the bite he’d been chewing on, he said, “If this food is any indication of your standards, you’re going to have to give me a list of places to eat at.”

  “It’s really good, isn’t it?” She pointed to the beef. “Have some.”

  Snagging a piece, as directed, he asked, “So, have you lived in New York all your life?”

  The look she gave him was one of amusement. “Do I sound like a New Yorker? No, I’m from the San Francisco Bay area. That’s where my parents still live.”

  “How come you didn’t go back there after your residency?” If he had a family, real roots in a community, that would probably be what he’d do.

  Liz shrugged one shoulder, and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer, then she replied, “It’s complicated.”

  She took another bite of food and chewed, leaving him to wonder if that was all the answer he was going to get. After she swallowed, then took a sip of her iced tea, she said, “Truthfully, I spent a lot more happy times here in New York than I did back home. Those two aunts I was named for asked for me to come to spend part of summer with them when I got into my teens, and my parents insisted I go. At first, it felt like another punishment, but those two old ladies were amazing and I looked forward to those weeks every year. I fell in love with New York and now there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

  He wanted to dig deeper, feeling there was more to it than just that, but before he could formulate his next question, she continued.

  “What do you think of New York? What have you seen and done since you got here?”

  Deflected again, and yet he couldn’t really blame her. Theirs wasn’t the type of relationship that inspired confidences. They weren’t looking to get to know each other too deeply, just enjoy the attraction.

  “I like it, so far. Took some time to get used to the pace of the city, and the noise, but I’m enjoying exploring. Did some touristy things, like the Empire State Building, and Liberty and Ellis Island, but besides that I’ve just been nosing around a bit.”

  “If you’re only going to be in New York for a fairly short time, you need to cram as much in as possible.” She raised one eyebrow. “What are you into, besides martial arts and traveling?”

  Her question made him have to think. For the last five years he’d been struggling to get back into civilian life without his best friend to do things with. It suddenly struck him how much he’d deferred to Mimi’s wants when it had come to what they’d done together.

  “I like live music, but not at big venues. I used to play a lot of pool, and miss it. Just checking out different neighborhoods, seeing how other people live and have fun, that’s how I usually try to get to know a city.”

  With her wealthy background that probably sounded boring and pedestrian to Liz, but he wasn’t going to present himself as anything other than what he was. He was a simple man, with pretty simple tastes and interests. Racking his brain, he continued with his list of things he liked to do.

  “Usually when I travel I go to natural history museums, and rent a motorbike to look at the countryside. I’m looking forward to exploring outside the city on my bike when the weather gets nice.”

  It was as though a curtain came down, and the relaxed, almost smiling Liz disappeared in an instant. She looked down and pushed her plate aside.

  “Well, you won’t lack for things to do and see here. If you need any suggestions, let me know.”

  As was often the case, he was left wondering what had cause her abrupt change of mood. Was it because she’d suddenly realized just how incredibly boring he was?

  When she glanced at her watch, he knew the evening, which he’d been enjoying so much, was coming to an end. He didn’t want it to. Instead, he wanted to ask her to come back home with him, spend the night. Seeing her so laid back and obviously enjoying her food had made him hungry for her again. Just one look at her closed-off expression and veiled eyes told him it would be useless to ask.

  But there was one thing he had to say before they parted ways. Catching the waitress’s eye, he motioned for the bill, then said to Liz, “I definitely want suggestions, so make me a list of must-sees. Better yet, show me around yourself. You love the city, so I have no doubt you know all the best places, and the best times to go to them.”

  That earned him one of her sharp, solemn glances.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said, turning to pull her coat off the back of the chair.

  And he was smart enough to leave it at that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LIZ LEFT CORT standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant and jumped into a cab to head home. All the fun and enjoyment she’d felt in his company had drained away at the mention of the motorcycle, and she had to wonder why her taste in men was so predictable. The more time she spent with Cort, the more he reminded her of Andrew, as if one man hooked on adventure and the need for speed wasn’t enough.

  At least they didn’t look alike, at all. Andrew had been blond and sleek, with a swimmer’s physique, while Cort was more the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. A solid man, built for holding a woman in such a way that she felt safe. Protected.

  Not that she needed protection. She was more than capable of protecting herself, thank you very much! Yet when Cort held her the very center of her feminine co
re was touched, and she felt beautiful.

  But the mention of the motorbike had made her blood run cold.

  When she’d first started going out with Andrew, she had ridden on the back of his bike all the time. Although he’d had a car, it had been his favorite way of getting around and Liz, not having had much experience with motorcycles, hadn’t minded until after the late fall night when they’d crashed. Luckily for her all she’d sustained had been some painful road rash and a slight concussion. Andrew had broken his arm. Had it been her with the broken ulna and radius, she’d have had to miss a key part of her practical anatomy course, and that had been a nonstarter for her.

  “Come on, Liz,” Andrew had wheedled. “It’s like riding a horse. You have to get right back on. It’ll be fine. The odds of having another accident are astronomical.”

  Much as she’d wanted to demand he show her those statistics, she hadn’t bothered. It wouldn’t have changed her mind. The thought of how close she’d come to losing a year of schooling had been like a shock of cold water to her system, not to mention how close they’d come to real disaster.

  Andrew had slowed considerably just prior to going around the corner and having the back tire slide out from under them. Usually he’d ridden like a madman, going at phenomenal speeds. If he’d been running true to form, she had no doubt they’d both be dead.

  It had been the end of her riding pillion on his bike.

  And perhaps the beginning of the end of their relationship.

  Sometimes she tried to tell herself that she’d just matured faster than he had, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t true. Andrew probably wouldn’t have changed and, while perhaps it made her a hypocrite to be mad at him for wanting her to change, she’d hoped he would. She’d had her life mapped out, at least roughly, and she’d longed for his approval of her plans. Instead, he’d wanted her to put her dream of being a doctor on hold, had treated it as though it hadn’t been important.

  “You can always go back to it,” he’d said, as he’d laid maps of Europe, already marked with routes he planned to take, out on her kitchen table. “We’re young, and this is the time to travel and see the world, not when we’re too old to enjoy it.”