More heat poured through her, pushing blood into her head and making it pound with embarrassment. What had she been thinking? She’d wanted to set the record straight—apologize—but there had to have been a better way to do it than going out to eat with him.
Too late to do anything about it now.
And he probably hadn’t even meant his words the way she’d taken them. He’d just been giving her permission to observe him.
Watch me.
Oh, hell. There it was again.
Think about something else, Tessa.
She focused on his hands, watching those long nimble fingers as they worked on Mr. Phillips’s leg. Fingers she could remember running over her in passion, drawing forth reactions she hadn’t known she was capable of.
Make this about his job. Not about what you once meant to each other.
She looked at him with new eyes. And what she saw impressed her. He was good at what he did. Confident. Unerring. Just as she hoped to be one day.
If she could just fix herself on those kinds of thoughts, she would be able to get through dinner, and he’d be none the wiser about anything. Like how she still turned to mush just looking at him.
Please, no. Just get through tonight.
Once they were done eating, she would slide back into her normal routine and forget this surgery—with all its terrible revelations—had ever happened.
“SO YOU’RE GOING for a fellowship in Mohs?”
They were sitting in a small restaurant around the corner from the hospital two hours after completing the surgery on Mr. Phillips. Tessa had ordered some scans to make sure the tumor had not metastasized past the site on his leg.
She’d acted strangely at the end of the surgery, though, and Clay had wondered if she was going to back out of dinner. And maybe she should have. Or he should have. It didn’t feel half-bad, sitting across from her. Some of the bitterness and resentment he’d had toward her seemed to have leached away over the years.
“Yes, I was planning on applying in the fall, hoping to get an early start.”
The waiter interrupted, bringing their wine and taking their orders. When he left again, Clay leaned forward. “I know Dr. Wesley, head of Oncology. We’re friends, actually. I could put in a good word for you.”
There was silence at the table for about five seconds. Then Tessa’s face turned pink. But it wasn’t the soft color that had infused her skin in the operating room, filling him with a heat that had threatened to make itself known to everyone in the vicinity. No, this was a very different kind of red.
She was angry. At least he thought she was.
“Do you think I can’t get the fellowship on my own?”
What the hell?
“I just thought since I knew Josiah, I could—”
“Take care of it for me. Help me out.”
“Is there a problem with one doctor helping another?”
It was what doctors did all the time. Part of the politics of a hospital, whether he liked it or not. There were a lot more residents than there were fellowship slots. Most people he knew would welcome anything that gave them an edge.
“I don’t need any favors, Clay. Or gifts. Or scholarships. Not anymore.”
The soft words were said with such quiet conviction that they took him aback. They’d had many arguments about his gift-giving over the course of their relationship, but had their problems extended even further than what he’d thought? “Are you talking about my parents? Was that what our breakup was about… them helping you with a few expenses?”
And there it was. The bitterness he’d felt standing in front of the door of her dorm room was back with a vengeance. He should have known they couldn’t have a meal together without getting into some kind of argument. The woman had a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Everest.
“A few expenses? Meu Deus! It was more like my whole education.” Her voice rose enough that a couple of people at nearby tables glanced their way. She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling as she took a deep breath and let it out. “Look at it from my perspective. I thought I had earned that scholarship. I worked hard in college and applied for every financial aid opportunity under the sun. And then to find out that my scholarship had nothing to do with merit or anything else I’d done…”
His stomach tightened. “Why didn’t you say anything while we were together?”
“Because I didn’t know where the money came from. Not until the day of my graduation.” She toyed with her fork, eyes not meeting his.
“You didn’t know until…”
Everything fell into place in an instant: why she’d thrown their relationship away with a haughty look of disdain, why she hadn’t wanted to talk about anything.
But it was only money.
“No, and you went out with me and never said a single word about it the whole time we were together.” Her eyes did come up this time. “I felt so humiliated. My rich boyfriend’s parents paid my way through one of the best medical schools in the country. Only no one saw fit to tell me.”
When she put it that way, he could see why she’d been so upset that day. But his parents had certainly felt as if she’d deserved the scholarship—had seen it as an investment in the future. Yes, they had a soft spot for Tessa’s folks—they were good friends, in fact—but they weren’t the kind of people who threw money at a cause they didn’t believe was worthy. They’d expected Clay to work just as hard as they did. And Tessa had made stellar grades. Better than his, even.
His anger faded. He reached across the table, touching her face. “My parents may have paid the tuition, but you’re the one who earned that degree, Tess, not them. I know how many hours you put in studying. And if their scholarship hadn’t paid your way, any other awards agency would have been happy to step up to fill in any gaps. Is it so terrible that it was my mom and dad who happened to set it up?”
Her gaze held his for a long second. “I don’t know what to think. My parents didn’t know about it, either. Wouldn’t it have been easier if they had just told us about everything up front?”
“They probably thought your parents would refuse the money if they knew who it came from. They’re proud. Very much like a certain young doctor I know.” He took his hand away and sat back.
A small smile played about her lips. “I’m just a little proud.”
“Oh, Tessa, if that’s your definition of a little…” He sighed, then fixed her with a look. “You’re going to be a damn good doctor. You already are, in fact. I saw you operate on Mr. Phillips’s leg.”
He hesitated about saying the next thing that came to his mind, but went ahead. “Your mother would be proud of all you’ve accomplished. And I know your dad is. Mom says he talks nonstop about you.”
Tessa’s eyes turned soft and moist, the green glittering like meadow grass covered with dew.
“Thank you.” The words came out a shattered whisper. “My dad and I miss her more than words can say.”
Suddenly his focus slid lower. To the pink lips that had once parted beneath his own. He wanted