Wash

Darn that accent is sexy. He’s gotta know it. Charity picked up her wine glass and took a sip. He’d probably prefer to talk about himself than the un-comings and lack of goings between her father and her. “You’re from Australia, right?”

“New Zealand,” he corrected.

“What made you decide to come to America?”

Elijah settled back in his chair. “Scholarship. Opportunity. And maybe just a little bit of running away from home.”

“Running away?” Interesting.

“My mother’s very much into the society club, the yacht club, and about any other club which exhibits social status. It seemed a good time to try something new.”

Charity smiled teasingly. “Sounds pretty prestigious. I hardly doubt you needed a scholarship then.”

Elijah grinned. “It fit the part back home and it looks good when you show up in med-school as a foreigner on scholarship. You earn a bit of respect before you start.”

“Really?” She let her cheek rest against her hand and enjoyed the guilty pleasure of letting her elbow rest on the table. Her father would be cringing if he were still here. “I’d have thought it would’ve made you work harder to get the respect.” She enjoyed another sip of wine and realized she’d almost finished this glass. She had better slow down or she wouldn’t be driving home. She moved her head slightly so she could lean her chin against her palm. His backstory sounded interesting. “What made you want to be a doctor?”

It didn’t seem possible, but Elijah’s eyes lit up even more. “I had no idea what I wanted to do in high school.” He shrugged. “I mean, if I asked my fifteen-year-old self what my plans where, I’d have said sports. I played varsity cricket in university so I started in kinesiology. My anatomy professor in first year talked me into being on the cadaver team. The team consiste

d of about ten students who cut open the Jane and John Does to teach the other students during class time. I was the only first year, and after ten minutes I knew it was where I wanted to be.”

“Cutting up dead people?” She hoped her forced straight face wouldn’t give her teasing away. “That’s a bit serial psychopath sounding.”

“Touché.” He laughed. “It’s weird, though, it just came naturally. All of it – the dissecting, the anatomy and physiology, like my brain knew it even though my subconscious did not.”

“And you still enjoy it?”

“Every minute,” he said without hesitation.

“That’s very cool. Natural talent in medicine and surgery isn’t easy to find. No wonder my father picked you as chief.”

“Dr. Thompson is a great doctor. I’m honoured he hired me. When he said he was stepping down and wanted me to take over as chief, I’d be stupid to say no. This hospital is easily one of the top ten in the country. I get to do surgeries most hospitals would never risk and surgeons can only dream of. The other thing about Scott Thompson Hospital is the atmosphere. It’s great. Everyone loves being here and that, in turn, helps the patients.” He picked up his glass. “Sorry to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s something you love.”

He clinked his glass with hers. “Cheers to that.” His elegant fingers rhythmically tapped against the rim of his glass. “I’ve been here five years now and don’t recall seeing you around.”

For three months straight, six years ago, I never left the place. That was before all the new construction and the renaming of the hospital to honour her father. “I’ve been by. You just probably never noticed me.”

“I’d have definitely noticed.”

She raised her eyebrows but didn’t respond. Was he flirting with her?

“How long have you been raising money for hospitals?” He shot her an innocent look. “Not to sound clueless but… I have no clue what you do or how you can make a living out of it.”

“There’s money in this. Some for me, but the best part is that I get to spend other people’s money to make more. I’ve been doing this about five or six years now. In America, Canada, and England. It’s all about the money.” She couldn’t resist bantering him. “That’s my job: raising money to pay for all these new wings you doctors want. So you guys can make loads and loads more money off those one-of-a-kind freaky surgeries.”

He pointed a mocking finger at her. “This from the girl driving a Mustang.”

“It’s a rental! They gave it to me because they rented out all the cars from the size I reserved.”

“Sure, that’s what your cover story is.” He chuckled, a husky, throaty one which sent little wrinkles by the sides of his eyes. It was very pleasant to watch and listen to.

“You’re trouble.”

“That depends…” His eyes locked with hers.

She enjoyed the last bit of her wine. “On what?”