When Morning Comes (3 page)

“No argument,” Sabrina agreed. “It makes me smile, and today I need it.”

“What happened?” Kara asked, instantly alert. Her compassion was only one of the reasons that made her such a wonderful social worker and friend.

“Dr. Mathis,” Sabrina said. “Don't say it,” she quickly added when Kara's mouth began to curve into a smile.

Kara grinned, showing even, white teeth in her dark chocolate face. “You do like to live dangerously.”

Sighing, Sabrina placed her notebook on the desk. “Dr. Mathis sets my teeth on edge.”

Kara folded her arms and leaned against the desk. “He also revs your engine.”

Sabrina tsked and blew out a disgusted breath. “I didn't know who he was at the time,” she defended. A week after she'd arrived, she and Kara had been headed to the cafeteria for lunch. The elevator door opened and he was there. Tall, muscular, and incredibly handsome in a white lab coat, she'd almost sighed. Her heart had actually thumped. Obviously, he hadn't felt the same punch, because he'd walked past her as if she didn't exist. Naturally, she'd asked about him.

“And now that you do?” Kara asked innocently, her light brown eyes twinkling.

Sabrina made a face. “He needs to learn not to dump information on patients. He's so pragmatic.”

“Unfortunately, so are a lot of doctors, but we both know he cares about his patients. He's spent many a night in the doctors' lounge when he's had a patient in crisis. If there's a problem, he's there. He's only had one vacation in the time he's been here.”

“I know. I'd think he was on an ego trip if he didn't brush aside any and all accolades with that ‘My patients deserve the best I can give them' speech. There's a heart somewhere under that Valentino double-breasted suit.” Sabrina plopped into her leather chair behind her desk. “I trust you to get the full scoop of what the grapevine is saying about me.”

“The nurses will applaud you,” Kara said.

“The doctors will crucify me,” Sabrina said, then smiled mischievously. “It won't be the first time. At least my direct supervisor won't be back until Monday.”

“I'd say that calls for a celebration. Why don't you come over tonight for dinner? I'm doing a new pasta and shrimp dish.”

Sabrina's smile wavered. As much as she liked Kara, her mother barely tolerated Sabrina. In all the four months since Sabrina had moved in two doors down and all the times she'd been to Kara's house, Sabrina had never seen the woman smile.

“It's Thursday, so Mama will be glued to the TV set, watching her programs,” Kara coaxed, her smile a bit forced.

Sabrina immediately felt a twinge of guilt. “Since you're a fabulous cook and hostess, you talked me into it. I'll bring the wine.”

“Deal. See you when I see you.” Kara went to the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Sabrina said, then pulled the notebook toward her. She had one more patient to check on before she called it a day. Her mind tried to veer toward Dr. Mathis's sexy body, but she pulled it firmly away. He was off-limits.

*   *   *

Cade looked at the GPS, then at the one-story cottage home on the quiet street off Polk Street in an older, slightly affluent neighborhood in Oak Cliff and frowned. The quaint brick-and-stone home wasn't what he'd expected.

Sabrina Thomas dressed well, wore understated but expensive jewelry and the orthopedic-surgery-waiting-to-happen killer heels that women tortured their feet to wear. He thought she'd prefer a more happening and carefree place to live.

He had expected to see one of the new high-rise town homes or one of the apartments that catered more to an easy, affluent lifestyle that were popping up all over Dallas. A home meant work, permanence, and the very reason he'd chosen to live at Navarone Place.

He'd been lucky enough to purchase one of the highly prized penthouses that rarely came up for sale. The twenty-four-hour chef on duty meant Cade never had to worry about his dinner. He simply put in his weekly order on Sunday and the food was delivered to his penthouse at 7
P.M.
each night. And, if he was going to be late, all he had to do was call and reschedule.

Getting out of the low-slung car, he rounded the hood and started up the curved walkway. By the door and under the two large oak trees on either side of the neatly trimmed yard were blooming flowers in a rainbow of colors. He couldn't imagine her having the time to take care of the place herself.

However, if she liked flowers, perhaps he could smooth the tension between them with a bouquet or two. He wanted this animosity, or whatever it was between them, gone. Others on the staff might disagree with him, but they kept their opinions to themselves.

He just needed to get Sabrina to be the same way. He'd had enough chaos growing up to last several lifetimes.

Memories tried to surface of that forgotten time, but he ruthlessly pushed them away. He wasn't a man to live in the past. His long finger pressed the doorbell almost covered by English ivy. He waited, and then rang again. He glanced at the late-model red Audi convertible in the driveway. He had no idea if that was her car or if she lived alone.

“Are you looking for Sabrina?” inquired a scratchy male voice.

He turned to see an elderly couple. The tall man in jeans and a white shirt leaned lightly on a cane. The woman similarly dressed stood close beside him with a four-foot section of a broom handle clutched in her right hand. “Yes.”

The man studied Cade closely. “Why do you want to see Sabrina?”

“We work together. I'm Dr. Mathis.”

“You have any proof?” the woman asked.

Cade pulled out his wallet. They were right to be cautious. Opening his wallet, he showed them his driver's license and a wallet-size replica of his medical degree.

Both peered at the identification a long time as Cade waited. He had several patients with visual problems who refused to wear their eyeglasses.

Lifting their heads, they smiled. “That's her car, so she's at home. She likes to swim in the evenings. The gate isn't locked, but I keep telling her it should be.”

“Ms. Thomas likes to follow her own dictates,” Cade said.

“Most women do,” the man said, looking affectionately down at his wife with a smile.

“Nothing wrong with that,” the woman added. “Please tell Sabrina the Goldens said hello.”

“I will,” Cade assured them as the couple continued down the sidewalk. Turning, he went back up the walk and around the side of the house. As the woman had said, the gate of the eight-foot wooden fence was unlocked. The neighbors didn't have to worry. Ms. Thomas struck him as a woman who could take care of herself, Cade thought.

Rounding the corner of the house, he stepped onto lush grass in a flower-filled backyard. To his right was an eight-foot stone fireplace with a cushioned group seating in front. He heard a splash, looked deeper into the yard. He saw the water rushing over a rock waterfall into an odd-shaped swimming pool close to the back fence. His eyes narrowed as Sabrina climbed out of the water.

His gaze slowly swept from the soft features of her face over the black two-piece swimsuit, then narrowed on seeing the skin-graft scars that resembled a faded patchwork of skin that ran from her left forearm, beneath her left breast to mid-thigh. He'd done a rotation in the burn unit in medical school. Gauging from the extensive scars and the smoothness of the skin grafts except beneath her left arm, she'd suffered third-degree burns at a very young age.

Unconsciously his mouth tightened at the thought of the pain she must have endured. Burn therapy had come a long way in the past fifteen to twenty years. But before that time she would have had to suffer the excruciating pain of dressing changes to help heal and debride the wounds without any anesthesia or medication to dull the pain.

She had suffered.

He now knew another reason she fought so hard for her patients. She knew what it was to rely on others for the best medical care, and be at their mercy when it wasn't given.

*   *   *

Sabrina climbed out of the pool, a daily ritual to keep the mobility in her left arm, and reached for the towel she'd tossed on the chaise, and froze. Her head jerked up. Dr. Mathis was the last person she expected to see, even if she had been thinking about him since she left the hospital.

Mrs. Ward had called Sabrina to tell her she'd spoken with him. She'd said he was as abrupt as usual, but he also sounded concerned that she wasn't feeling well. She and her husband had decided, if they had to choose between bedside manners and skill, they'd choose skill. They—

Her thoughts slammed to a halt as she remembered the burn scars. She reached for the towel. Her fingers clutched the soft material, but something inside her refused to hide behind it. So let him be disgusted like Howard in high school when he'd come over unannounced and saw her in a halter top and shorts. That had put an end to their dating.

She hadn't even thought of dating again until she was a freshman in college. Again disaster struck when Kent saw the scars on her arm when her knit sleeve rode up. She hadn't tried dating again.

Her chin jutted the tiniest bit. Let him get a good look. His reaction would put an end to those crazy thoughts she was having about him.

Yet as seconds passed, his expression remained unchanged. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks, his direct gaze on her, and remained silent. She waited for his gaze to flicker over the scars she'd carried since her mother, high on meth, spilled boiling water on her. Nothing. His expression remained impersonal. For some odd reason, that annoyed her.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“I rang the doorbell and no one answered,” he said by way of explanation.

“That didn't give you the right to enter private property.”

“The Goldens said I should. They said to tell you hello.”

She didn't doubt him. She and Kara were the only single women in their neighborhood association. A few of the older couples had made it no secret that they'd like to see them married.

“Aren't you going to ask?” she questioned. Her voice carried a note of irritation. There was no reason to explain further.

His gaze flickered over her, detached and clinical. “Third-degree burns on the left side of your torso and upper thigh. Extensive skin grafts from your right leg.” One hand motioned toward her. “It would be my guess that you were swimming to keep the full range of motion in your left arm.”

He'd said it so clinically, so remote, but at least there hadn't been revulsion in his face or in his voice. Even a coworker had stared transfixed last week when Sabrina had taken off her jacket. Underneath had been a sleeveless blouse. Sabrina had slipped the jacket back on.

Yet, for some odd reason she was beginning to feel uneasy with him looking at her. She wrapped the large towel beneath her arms, and used a hand towel to partially dry her hair and keep water from dripping in her face. “Why are you here?” she repeated.

“To find out how we can work together without the conflict,” he told her.

“I'm not sure that's possible,” she said honestly.

“I refuse to believe that.” He took a step toward her. “Surely we can find common ground.”

She studied the narrowed, determined eyes. He probably wore the same expression when he was in surgery. He didn't have to come. One word from him and she'd probably have to look for another affiliate. “Why don't you just report me? The board thinks you walk on water.”

“One, I fight my own battles. Two, although you're misguided, you care about patients. Since we have a common goal, there should be no reason we can't have a respectful working relationship.”

“Why bother?”

Annoyance flickered in his beautiful black eyes and across his handsome face, then it was gone. His other hand came out of his pocket. “Conflict is counterproductive. I prefer working in a calm environment.”

Sabrina wrapped the small towel around her neck and continued to study him. Her scars didn't bother him. She wondered what did. “Have you had this conversation with anyone else at Texas?”

One eyebrow lifted in annoyance. “It hasn't been necessary.”

Sabrina smiled, feeling a small amount of pleasure that she was the only one at Texas that got to the great Cade Mathis. Seems he did notice her—if only that she annoyed him.

“I see nothing laughable about this,” he said, clearly ticked.

Sabrina's smile widened. “I've never seen you smile or laugh.”

“What? What has that got to do with our discussion?”

Everything,
she thought, but this time she kept her thoughts to herself. “You are pragmatic and straightforward. You point out the risks. I look for the endless possibilities, for the positives. Like having you for a surgeon.”

“I don't walk on water,” he said, as if the very thought irritated him.

No one could say Cade Mathis was egocentric. “No, but you're a hell of a doctor. You fight for your patients, you just don't always fight
with
them.”

“I don't have time to pamper them like you do,” he said. “Mrs. Ward is a prime example. Letting her postpone the surgery without pointing out the risk would have been negligent of me.”

Sabrina thought of pointing out that he hadn't had to scare her, but then perhaps he had. “Dr. Mathis, you have your ways and I have mine. I'll promise to try and see your point, if you'll agree to try to see mine.”

“There'll be no more confrontations?” he asked, staring intently at her.

“I'll do my best,” she told him.

He didn't like the answer. She could see it in his clenched jaw. She smiled inwardly. Who would have thought it, that she was the one person Cade Mathis couldn't ignore.

“I don't want to have this conversation again,” he said.