Chapter Three – Lana
The private room where Lana waited for Dr. Wolfe was painted in a carefully neutral palate. Grey carpet, cream-colored walls, medium-dark furniture. Nothing too stimulating or exciting. A computer sat on a corner desk, a printer attached to it. Her hands twisted into each other, heart pounding. She pressed her lips together, determined that she wasn't going to cry.
I'm being proactive, she reminded herself. It's still stage one and I'm not ignoring it. This isn't going to kill me.
It didn't mean that in this moment she had any more comfort. She regretted her choice not to have Kari come with her to this appointment. At the time, she had thought she was being strong, but right now she wanted a hand to hold more than anything else.
She dabbed at her eyes as the door opened, hoping that her mascara didn't smudge. When she looked up again, ready to greet the doctor, she froze.
The man from the benefit ball stood in the doorway.
He wore a crisp blue dress shirt, dark tie, white lab coat, and pressed dress pants. Blue eyes with laugh lines crinkling their corners peered out from a handsome, strong-jawed face. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed neatly and parted at one side, showing a high forehead. Big, broad shoulders spoke to a life in the gym, but this was no gym rat. She swallowed dryly as heat rose to her face – and swirled in her core.
As if this wasn't embarrassing enough, the memory of the night in that hotel room, with him pounding into her like they were a couple of animals, flashed through her mind. He'd been rougher than she thought she would like, but she had liked it. And now he was her doctor?
She hadn't even remembered his name the next morning when she woke up alone in the room with Kari calling her and asking her who she was with.
Dr. Wolfe had frozen in the doorway as well. He cleared his throat and stepped into the room, lightly closing the door behind him. "Miss Lana Flores?"
Lana nodded, not daring to speak.
"You were referred to me by Dr. Amelia Patterson, correct?"
Another nod.
Dr. Wolfe settled down at the computer, not looking at her. The atmosphere was tense, and Lana fidgeted. If she had known who he was, she never would have slept with him. She had just needed to feel alive . . . Was that so bad?
"I just have some questions to ask you before we start," he said, his voice stiff and formal. "Where do you live?"
Lana answered the questions by rote. They were familiar enough, considering all the doctors she had had over the years. Her face got redder as they neared the question that she dreaded. Are you sexually active? When he asked it, she opened her mouth, but couldn't speak. Should she tell the truth, that she usually wasn't all that active? Would he think she was lying because of their tryst?
After a few moments of silence, Dr. Wolfe finally looked at her. His blue eyes were soft and judgement-free, helping her to relax. "Miss Flores, I understand if this is an awkward situation for you. If you would like, I can refer you to another—"
"Over the past ten years, you've had the best recovery, survival, and non-recurrence record for cancer," she interrupted. "I want the best treatment I can have."
"I understand that, but your stage is very treatable. Your chances of complications are very small."
"My mother died of breast cancer. I'm not going to take any chances." Lana took a deep breath. "I'm not usually sexually active. There are . . . There is occasional activity, though. It doesn't happen often."
He continued to stare at her for a moment. Lana twitched, hating that look. Her fists clenched and she raised her chin, narrowing her eyes at him. "I have two little girls, and I don’t ever want them to be in the situation I am in right now. Dr. Patterson said you were looking for stage one patients to try a new recovery treatment, and so here I am. Doing my part to end cancer once and for all."
His lips twitched. Lana's breath hitched. She tried to shove it aside. He was her doctor, not some alluring, mysterious older man at a party. But seeing him wearing a doctor's uniform made him look even sexier. How was that possible? She thought that a tuxedo was the most flattering thing a man could wear.
Check that, she thought, the most flattering thing this man can wear is a smile. And nothing else.
"Okay," Dr. Wolfe said. He sat back. "I can see that you are determined. I will take you on as my patient, then. But, considering our history, I think it's best if we discuss boundaries."
Lana almost hoped that he would say there were no boundaries or set up some soft ones that could be easily breached, like ‘no making out in the exam room.’ But she already knew it wouldn’t be like that. He had left the hotel while she was still sleeping, so there was clearly no reason that he would want to start up anything new with her. He was sexy, mature, and oh-so skilled. But that didn't matter. Now he was her doctor, and that was that.
"First off, I keep my relationships with my patients strictly professional."
Lana nodded, pushing away her own irrational disappointment. "I would expect nothing else."
"Second, I demand punctuality. You have two children. I understand that it can be a little hectic when they're involved, but if you are not at an appointment when you're scheduled, then it will be canceled and rescheduled." Dr. Wolfe did something on the computer and some papers shot out from the printer. "This is an explanation of the treatment I'm working on, along with risks, timeframes, etc. I want you to read it all before our next appointment."
Lana took the papers. Their fingers brushed, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from gasping as a spark of electricity passed between them. "I've already read up a bunch about it. You introduce shifter cells into the tissue surrounding the tumor after surgery and before whatever chemotherapy or radiation the patient undergoes, right?"
"Yes. The shifter tissue builds a blockade against the cancer growing back and it bolsters the body's resistance to disease while still allowing transplants and the like to occur." Dr. Wolfe looked impressed with her. "I'd still like you to read the materials I just gave you."
"Of course." She tucked them into her purse. She'd also give them to Kari. Her own attempts to explain the process were lacking.
"I'll just get somebody to schedule another appointment with you, and then you'll be free to go." He gave her a tight, professional smile and left.
Lana sagged against the chair, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Her heart pounded in her chest and warm stirrings inside of her were still making it uncomfortable to sit still. She spread her legs, trying to ease the pressure between them. It was so wrong for her to be turned on in this setting, but here she was, red-faced, a greedy ache in her core. Kari always said that she needed to date more often, and now Lana knew why. One sexual encounter and she was suddenly man-crazy. At least, man-crazy for Dr. Wolfe. The only good thing about this was that terror was no longer her dominant emotion. Not that the lust that took its place was that much better. Guilt crept up her throat for daring to have such sexual thoughts about her doctor. It was all so inappropriate.
Moments later, voices came from the corridor. The door had been left open a crack, and, peering through it, she could see the man that Dr. Wolfe had been at the benefit ball with. She chewed her lip, wondering if she should listen to their conversation.
"It's completely inappropriate," the man said, his voice low and angry. "I've done my best to stay out of your personal life except when you shove it in my face, but sleeping with a patient? She could sue you and the clinic and she'd be complete—"
"Clint, she wasn't my patient when we left that party together." Dr. Wolfe's voice was low, calm, and even. "It was a one-night stand. She wasn't my patient. Now that she is my patient, there will be nothing that happens between us. If it makes you feel better, then I will have a nurse sit in with us whenever Miss Flores has an appointment with me."
Lana's face burned with embarrassment. Just when she thought this couldn't get more awkward. Now some man in blue scrubs had to start poking his nose into it, making a bigger deal out of it than it was. She wanted to go out there and tell him it was none of his business – that she and the doctor had already resolved the issue. Yet, she was stuck to her seat. She had a shy, submissive personality and didn't do well with confrontations.
"Simon—"
"Don't push this," Dr. Wolfe warned, his tone dropping. "She is a patient. We are not sleeping together. End of story."
Clint was silent for a moment before he nodded. "That better be the end of it. Friend or no friend, if you start seducing patients, I'm reporting you to the medical board."
Lana gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth.
Luckily, the men hadn't heard her. Dr. Wolfe spoke again, his voice even deeper. The anger was apparent in his tone. "I know that you're only saying that because you're concerned for the patient. But if you ever show such lack of faith in my professionalism again, then you will be looking for a new job. I consider you my best friend, yes, but that doesn't mean I will tolerate character assassination."
If it was Lana, she'd be backing down, but Clint was apparently made of stronger stuff. "I will question your professionalism every time it needs to be questioned. In case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly the best—"
The door shut suddenly, like one of them had just realized it was open. Lana pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the thoughts racing in her head. Had he had an affair with a patient before? Was that why this Clint was so determined to ensure there was nothing between her and Simon?
She smoothed her hair as the door opened again. Clint, his pale skin flush with anger, came in. She tried to pretend like she hadn't heard the conversation as he set up another appointment for her. But she couldn’t get rid of the embarrassing red in her face, nor could she stop herself from thinking that maybe, just once, it would be okay to have a breach of professionalism . . .