Hardball (7 page)

Startled, Holly couldn’t hold back a frown.

Seeing her reaction, Nate raised a hand in defense. “Don’t get me wrong, Doctor. I wouldn’t touch that stuff with a barge pole. Trust me on that.”

She let out a small sigh of relief. “Good. I’m always amazed when I read about athletes doing that stuff. It’s so stupid to wreck their careers and put their bodies at such risk.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, the set of his features serious and intense. “A few guys still figure the edge they get from steroids is worth the risk, but they’re morons. The way I look at it, my arm is a gift from God. The last thing I need is to waste that gift by messing up my body with chemicals.”

The religious reference was surprising, but Nate sounded totally sincere. “It sounds like you’ve got your act together,” she said, meaning it.

His mouth curled in another one of those sensual smiles. A powerful buzz zinged through her body and flushed her with warmth. As she silently ordered her nervous system to calm down, Holly found it easy to imagine a woman doing just about anything to be on the receiving end of all that potent masculine heat.

She took refuge in sipping her tea, praying that she hadn’t been staring at him like a star-struck fangirl. Mercy, she barely knew the man, and they had so little in common they might as well have beamed in from different planets. But after one smoky look from Nate Carter, she had visions of the two of them naked and entwined in the sheets of the closest empty hospital bed. She couldn’t even begin to count the ways that was so not her.

“Earth to Dr. Holly,” Nate called gently, waving his hand in front of her face.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing with embarrassment. “A strange thought just rushed into my head. You know how that happens sometimes in the middle of a conversation?”

He tossed off the last of his coffee. “Strange thoughts are always rushing into my head. Like how I can’t believe I’m sitting here with the hottest doctor in the city. Maybe the whole damn country.”

This time she did stare at him, but she probably looked dumbfounded rather than awestruck. Could he be any more direct? Part of her wanted to be offended by the blatant come-on, but that negative instinct was swamped by her clamoring hormones.

“Are you always this blunt?” she said with a disbelieving laugh. “I’ve only known you for a few minutes, and you’re rating me like I’m in some medical beauty pageant.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, not looking sorry at all. “I always say what’s on my mind. Gets me in trouble now and then.” His bad boy charm seemed thoroughly practiced, but that didn’t make it any less effective. “I didn’t upset you, did I?”

Holly tried to affect a casual shrug. “I should say yes, since it was a vaguely sexist remark. You caught me by surprise, but I have to admit to being flattered.” She dropped her eyes toward the table top. “Even though you’re obviously exaggerating for effect.”

He flexed his long, powerful fingers to crush the empty coffee cup. “The hell I am. But, look, I know you’ve got to rush off in a few minutes, and I need to ask you something before we’re out of time.”

Now what?
She didn’t think she could take any more surprises. “Sure,” she said cautiously.

“Okay, here’s what I need to know. Do you play golf?”

She gaped at him. When he started to look amused, she shook free of her mental paralysis.

“Do I play golf?” she echoed. She’d thought he was going to ask her out to lunch, maybe even dinner. After all, he’d just called her the hottest doctor in the country. But maybe he just tossed off that kind of sex-laden line the way he’d tossed back his coffee.

His jaw muscle twitched. “It’s not a trick question.”

“No, I’ve never tried golf. I run, but I don’t play any sports, I’m afraid. I’ve never had much time for them, and I’m a little challenged when it comes to coordination.” Yes, she
looked
athletic, with her tall, rangy body. But when it came to hitting, throwing, or kicking a ball, her limbs usually refused to do what her brain so readily envisioned.

On the other hand, put a scalpel or a scope in her hand and her coordination was perfect.

Nate gave her a slow, thorough appraisal that had her shifting in her seat.

“That’s no problem at all. Look, I’ll tell you why I’m asking. This hospital and the Philadelphia Post co-sponsor a golf tournament every year. It raises a lot of money for kids’ programs at the hospital. For the past three years, I’ve been helping with the organizing committee.”

Holly felt an irrational stab of dismay. He was obviously going to hit her up for a donation, nothing more. What else did she expect?

“It’s a great tournament,” he continued. “All kinds of people come—athletes, businessmen, politicians, doctors, lawyers. I thought that if you were a golfer, you might like to enter. We play the Belfield. It’s a pretty good course, up near Paoli.”

For the first time in her life, she actually wished her father had taken the time to teach her how to golf. But there was no use pretending. “It sounds like a great event, and of course it’s a wonderful cause,” she said in a resigned voice. “I’d be happy to make a donation.”

Nate leaned his elbows on the scratched Formica tabletop, bringing his body only inches from hers. She forced herself not to react.

“I’m not trying to put the hook in you for a donation, Holly,” he said with a chuckle. “Even though you don’t golf, I’d like you to come, anyway. To wrap up the day, the tournament committee holds a banquet at the club in the evening. That’s where some of the fundraising takes place. They have silent auctions and that sort of thing. I always sponsor a table for eight, and there’s a chair with your name on it.”

A banquet?
Was he asking her on a date? Or was he just plumping the charity event? She had to struggle to mask her confusion and…disappointment.

Then she remembered something her mother used to say.
Holly, dear. State the obvious when you’re not sure what to say. That way you won’t appear quite so dense.

“You’re inviting me to be part of your dinner group?”

Nate nodded. “Absolutely. You’ll love it. Jake Miller will be there. You must have heard of him, right? Jake Miller, the Patriots’ very own future Hall-of-Famer?”

She gave him a hesitant nod. That name was vaguely familiar, but pro sports just weren’t her thing. Clearly, she was striking out on all counts. Maybe going to the banquet wasn’t a good idea.

Nate watched her with disconcerting intensity. She opened her mouth to politely decline, but he cut her off.

“Jake and his wife, Maddie Leclair, will be at my table. So will Martha Winston. Maddie and Martha are both sportswriters with the Post. Martha will bring along a date, another guy from the paper. And then there’ll be Dr. Fredericks and his wife. I’m sure you’ve heard of
him
,” he said.

Holly practically fell out of the chair. “Dr. James Fredericks?
Our
Dr. James Fredericks?”

“The very one.”

Dr. Fredericks, a vice-president of PCH, was one of the top neurosurgeons in the world. Holly had studied and admired his pioneering work. For a few years in med school, she had almost chosen neurosurgery as her specialty, mainly because of Fredericks. Any doubts she had about the wisdom of accepting Nate’s offer instantly evaporated.

“Well,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager, “that is certainly an enticing prospect. When is the tournament?”

“Monday,” Nate answered with a smile. He seemed pleased that she was on the verge of saying yes. “I realize this is short notice, but...”

She jumped in. “That’s no problem. Unless there’s an emergency, of course. Otherwise, I’ll be glad to go. Thank you for inviting me, Nate.”

“Great. Why don’t I pick you up and drive you to the club. It’s north of the city, and isn't that easy to find if you don’t know your way around up there.”

“Are you sure that wouldn’t be too much trouble?” She hated to make him drive in the opposite direction to pick her up, but she still wasn’t used to driving Philadelphia’s intimidating freeways.

“No trouble at all. I’d like to show off my car. It’s an Aston Martin, and I think you’ll love it.”

That really got her attention. “Is it a DB9?”

Looking surprised, Nate leaned back in his chair, almost knocking into a grouchy looking administrator from HR squeezing past in the narrow space behind their table. The balding man muttered but didn’t bother to stop. Nate momentarily narrowed his eyes at the grump, but then turned his attention back on her.

Finally, something to impress him with. “Oh, my father loved fine cars, so we grew up with them. Daddy always had a couple of the latest sexy European models at home. He never owned an Aston Martin, but we knew all about them anyway. The classic James Bond car.”

She paused, suddenly worried that she sounded like a total snob. Even though Nate was now very wealthy, he had grown up in a working class family.

“I don’t mean it to sound like we were mega-rich or anything,” she added hastily. “My mother and father always fought about all the money he spent on cars.”
Oh, crap.
Why did she toss out that little grisly tidbit? Could she possibly screw this up anymore than she already had?

“It was hell. It still is hell.” Holly swallowed against the tightness in her throat, always taken aback by how deep the hurt still cut. “We were close, even though he and my mother were divorced. He remarried and started a second family, but the bond between us never really changed.”

Nate reached across the table and gave her hand a fleeting pat. The gesture surprised her, and she flushed with embarrassment and with gratitude for his kindness.

“How old were you when they divorced?”

“Eleven. My brother Sacha was only seven. My father wanted to take us with him, but he couldn’t.” Holly would never forget that terrible day, her mother’s anger and bitterness burned into all their memories like a cauterized wound that still refused to heal. How could it? Her mother had never really gotten over it, always blaming her ex-husband for everything wrong in her life.

And always telling Holly that no man could ever be trusted completely, and that she didn’t want Holly to end up like her.

“Your mother never remarried?” he asked, his dark gaze full of sympathy.

Holly stared at him, then suddenly became aware of the noise and bustle around them. Why was she telling him all this, especially in the middle of the hospital cafeteria? How pathetic.

She had to force a lighter tone in her voice. “Mom finally got past the worst of her depression and threw herself back into work. She’s a clinical psychologist. Work, plus regular tennis and bridge and martinis with her girlfriends—that seems enough for her. She never asks Sacha or me what we think about getting married. Most women her age are desperate for grandchildren, but she couldn’t care less.”

She smiled wryly, hoping she’d made it all sound like a bit of a joke.

Unfortunately, Nate didn’t look fooled. “Your brother’s not married, either?”

Holly shook her head. “He’s had the same boyfriend for a couple of years. He couldn’t stand living with my mother, so he got the hell out of Dodge as soon as he could. He’s a theatrical stage manager in New York, now. In fact, he’s got a hit show off Broadway that I want to see someday soon.”

Nate looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but she’d had enough of blurting out humiliating personal details like an undisciplined child. “I’m sorry, but I have to get to my meeting. Thanks for the tea, and for the invitation. I’m looking forward to Monday.” She pushed her chair back and stood up, eager to get away.

Nate rose too.

“Oh,” she said quickly, “are you really sure you don’t mind picking me up? Won’t that mean you’ll have to drive back into town after your golf game, and then all the way back to Paoli?”

“That’ll be no problem.” He seemed totally at ease, even though she’d just dumped some of her unhappy family history on him. “In fact, my liver will thank you for getting me out of the bar early.”

She smiled, grateful for the lame joke. Reaching into a pocket of her lab coat, she pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled her address and phone number. “I’m on the Jersey side, but not that far. Give me a call to let me know what time you want me to be ready.” She ripped off the note and handed it to him.

“Sure,” he said, extending his hand for a shake. As her fingers were swallowed up in his warm grip, she could sense both his power and his control. He held on considerably longer than the average polite handshake dictated and, like she had upstairs, Holly pulled away first.

“Goodbye for now, Nate. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Can’t wait. I’ll bring a copy of Morgan’s picture with me.”

“Terrific.” She turned and left the cafeteria, taking a quick glance back at him as she dodged a gaggle of residents charging down the hall. Nate, strolling along behind, gave her a broad smile and a wave.

As Holly made her way back to the fifth floor, she tried to collect her scattered wits before the meeting, and tried to fathom why she’d been so quick to dump emotional baggage on a virtual stranger. She hardly ever talked about her family, and certainly not so openly. What had come over her? And why to Nate Carter, of all people?

Still, it hadn’t seemed to bother him in the slightest, and for a guy who sometimes appeared superficial, he was surprisingly empathetic. And kind. If it was an act to get under her skirt, it was a damn good one.

She shook her head, more unsettled than ever. What was Nate Carter all about anyway? And what exactly did he want from her?