The Doctor's Undoing (Doctors in Training 3)

“I’m Captain Mal,” he said, strutting in his costume, “and you’re…well, you’re Inara. The, um, paid companion.”

She had to chuckle at his description of her character. When she then confessed she’d never seen that particular program, he acted scandalized. He had the whole series on disk, he informed her, as well as the movie that had followed a couple years afterward. He was going to make sure she watched every episode.

She laughed wearily. “As if we have time to watch TV—disks or otherwise. Especially an entire series.”

“There are only fourteen episodes and a movie. Maybe we can manage one a week or so.”

Which would take them through the next almost four months, she thought with a slight frown. The holidays. Well into the next semester. It was the closest either of them had come to planning for a future together—and that only to watch an old TV series. “Well, we’ll see.”

He’d looked at her rather oddly, as if hearing something in her tone he couldn’t quite interpret, but he’d let the subject drop.

The Halloween party was a little wild, involving more than a few scanty costumes and free-flowing alcohol. Some people found it necessary to relieve the stress of postgraduate training with excessive partying when they had the chance. Haley wasn’t one of them. After a couple hours, she was ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ron told her, holding up a finger to indicate one minute. “I just need to ask Hardik something before we go. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded with a smile. “There’s no rush.”

He had just stepped away when a tall, slender woman in a fringed flapper dress approached her. “Hi, Haley.”

“Hi, Margo. Have I told you how cute you look tonight?”

Margo patted her perfectly waved and styled dark hair. “Thanks. You look nice, too.”

Coming from Margo, she supposed that was high praise. “Thank you. Where’s your date?”

“He stepped outside to take a phone call. You’re here with Ron?”

“Yes. He’s over there, talking to Hardik. We’re getting ready to leave, actually.”

“I won’t be here much longer. Watching other people get smashed is hardly my idea of fun.”

Margo’s idea of fun was being at the head of the class. Making sure all the residents and attendings knew her name. Positioning herself for the most competitive residency and to win as many class awards as possible at graduation.

Deciding exhaustion was making her cranky, Haley felt guilty about those less than gracious thoughts, which made her smile more warmly at her classmate.

Her smile faded a bit when Margo asked, “So, are you and Ron getting serious, or what?”

Haley cocked an eyebrow, the closest she would allow herself to pointing out that it was none of Margo’s business.

“The only reason I’m asking is, I’m sort of surprised, you know? I mean, Ron’s nice enough—he certainly knows how to make everyone laugh—but…well, he’s not exactly serious about getting to the top, is he? Or about anything, for that matter. No offense, but I know you’re looking to get into a good residency program and you wouldn’t want to throw that away so you can find someplace that will also accept him.”

Despite Margo’s snotty remark about people getting smashed, she had obviously had more than a few drinks, herself. As blunt as she usually was, this was out of line even for her. Haley replied coldly, “Ron is a very good student and he’ll be an excellent doctor, Margo. Believe me, he takes that seriously.”

“Someone talking about me?” Ron asked, sliding up beside her with a swish of his long coat.

Wondering how much he might have overheard, Haley searched his face, but couldn’t read the expression behind his lazy grin. Margo didn’t even have the grace to look abashed that he might have heard her cutting remarks. She merely gave him a cool nod and said she had to go find her escort.

“Ready to go?” Ron asked Haley.

“Definitely,” she said, turning on one heel toward the exit.

Ron shrugged out of the duster coat that had let him pretend for a few hours to be a dashing space cowboy. He tossed it over the back of a chair in Haley’s living room and ran a hand through his hair. She’d gone into her bedroom to change out of the long dress, but he could still picture her wearing it.

The red brocade dress, trimmed with silver lace, had dipped low in the front, showing an intriguing amount of creamy cleavage. Fitted snugly to the waist, it had hugged her slender rib cage then draped away from her hips into a long skirt gathered into a bow in the back—right above her very nice tush. Long sleeves and lacy fingerless gloves had made the dress seem more modest than it actually was. She’d curled her brown hair so that it waved around her face beneath a flirty little lace-trimmed hat.

She’d looked both delectable and adorable. He’d told her so more than once that evening, though he wasn’t sure she’d taken him seriously.

Ron’s not exactly serious about anything. The paraphrase of Margo’s snippy contention echoed in his mind, making him scowl. She either hadn’t realized he’d heard her or hadn’t cared; there hadn’t been a hint of apology in her eyes when she’d nodded to him and walked away. Maybe she simply thought she owed no apology for stating what she considered to be indisputable fact.