Hardball (20 page)

“Where are you?” she said, when Nate answered his cell. “Aren’t you supposed to be home resting?”

“I’m well rested, and ready for anything,” he said. “Are you asking as my doctor or as my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend.

The first time he’d called her that. Why didn’t it sound better to her ears than it did? Maybe she’d already started thinking about them in stronger terms. Somehow,
girlfriend
sounded so temporary. Just another one in a long line.

God, why was she stressing over something as stupid as that?

“Both,” she said. “Please tell me you’re not driving.” She had a vision of him steering with his sling while he held the phone in his good hand.

Holly laughed, and more of her tension slid away. “That`s exactly the problem. So, are you going to answer my question? Where are you and what are you doing?”

Holly put the phone down and peered out the narrow window that overlooked Walnut Street. As Nate had said, the gleaming DB9 was parked in a loading zone on the next block. She went back to her desk and picked up the phone. “Just passing by?”

“Fat chance,” he said. “I thought I’d drop in for a few minutes on little Ms. Morgan McDaniel and some of the other kids, and then track down my favorite pediatrician and take her to lunch.”

Holly sighed. That sounded like a slice of heaven. She envisioned the two of them on the rooftop patio at a fabulous Italian restaurant on South Street, followed by a stroll through the bustling Italian market.

But it wouldn’t work. Rosen was expecting her. And the sooner she lined up the meeting with Lance Arnold, the better.

“Sorry, dude. There’s nothing I’d like better in the world right now, but I’m booked solid. I have to meet the chief right now, then have a consult with a possible new patient, then an M&M meeting, and then late rounds. How about dinner, instead? If you’re up for it?”

“Oh, I’ll be up for it, all right. And I’ll be up for dessert, too. Man, I’ll really be up for dessert.”

Pinpricks of heat teased her skin. Nate’s voice dripped pure sex, and she couldn’t wait. Not that she wanted to make it easy for him. “You know, sweetie, a man in your condition should be careful with desserts,” she said. “Maybe one a week at most.”

He made a choking sound. “You’re killing me, Doctor.”

She chuckled. “Well, maybe we can bend the rules a little. If you rest and take good care of yourself.”

“Deal. I’ll head right home after seeing Morgan and a few other kids. Come right over when you’re done at the hospital. Maybe we’ll even eat in,” he said in a sexy drawl.

Holly had never wanted to play hooky as badly in her life. It almost drove her crazy that Nate was only yards away, and would soon be in the hospital, just a floor below her. She craved being with him, but if she met him now or maybe even saw him, her focus might be shot for the rest of the day. She couldn’t afford that. Not with the Lance Arnold problem hanging over her head like an executioner’s blade.

She resisted the silly temptation to look down again at the street and follow the Aston Martin’s path to the hospital parking garage. Instead, she ignored the window and strode out her door and down the hall to the chief of surgery’s office suite.

Rosen’s secretary looked up as Holly pushed open the door. “Hi, Marilyn,” she said. “Is he in?”

“Hello, Dr. Bell,” the secretary said with a kind smile. “He’s on the phone, but he said to send you in as soon as you got here.”

“Thanks.” Holly knocked and poked her head inside. Rosen waved her in and pointed to one of the chairs in front of his heavy oak desk.

In addition to the massive desk and the two comfortable chairs in front, Rosen had a three-seat sofa and a circular meeting table that seated six. Fourteen framed degrees, diplomas and certificates on his ego wall, all pristinely-preserved in expensive-looking frames, testified to Charles Rosen’s standing as one of the foremost surgeons in the United States.

Rosen clasped his left hand on the top of his shaved head as he held the phone in his right. He was dressed in his usual designer golf shirt and crisply-pressed dress pants. The only time Charles Rosen donned a white lab coat was when he met patients.

“With a fellow named Lance Arnold,” Holly said. “He’s the sole parent of Tyler Arnold, the five-year-old boy who was a patient of Dr. McMillan’s for several years.”

Rosen nodded. “I’m familiar with the case. Never met the father, though.”

Holly gave him a grim smile. “I’d say that was your good fortune, Charles.” She’d called him Dr. Rosen the first time they’d met, but he’d asked that she call him by his given name. It still seemed strange to her, as she’d always had a more formal relationship with her immediate superiors, but he had insisted.

“What’s the guy’s problem?”

She quickly recounted the events of the past week, including her conversation with Mrs. Crump, and gave Rosen a full update on Tyler’s condition. She concluded by saying, “I’d like to set up a meeting right away with Arnold that would include you and Richard Morris, as well as the boy’s grandmother. Perhaps with all of us singing from the same songbook, we’ll be able to convince Mr. Arnold that surgery is the best option. The only option, realistically.”

Not that she held out more than the faintest glimmer of hope.

Rosen snorted. “Why? I get from your tone that you’re not optimistic that it’ll do any good.”

Holly felt a little jolt of dismay, but she kept her gaze steady. “That would be a fair conclusion. But surely we have to give it our best shot, don’t we?”

Rosen shook his head. “Come on, Holly. A judge won’t give a damn whether you talk to the man once or a dozen times. If you think we’re going to have to get a court order to force the surgery, then get on with it. Tell Arnold that he either signs the consent form or our lawyer will be filing for the order immediately. We don’t need to mollycoddle parents who won’t do what’s in their child’s best interests. Not in a clear-cut case like this.” His thick, gray eyebrows almost met in the center as he frowned. “You’re not intimidated by him, are you?”

Of course she was, at least a little, but she’d die before admitting that. Not to her boss, especially not this early in her job.

“No, of course not,” she said. She hated lying to the chief, but she didn’t see much choice. A perceived lack of confidence had killed or stunted the careers of several doctors she’d known. She wouldn’t let that happen to her. “I figured we had to go the extra mile. For the court, in particular.”

“I don’t agree. Just take care of it,” Rosen said brusquely. “Don’t expect some kind of committee to do your job for you. That’s not the way it works around here.”

Around here. Okay, that stung.

Holly might think of herself as a hot-shot recruit to PCH, but in reality she was still a newbie, and Rosen had just sharply reminded her of her status. Part of her wanted to slink out of his office, but she gave him a calm little nod instead. “I understand, Charles. I’ll take care of it right away.”

She gave Marilyn a casual wave as she passed, and hurried out of the suite and back to her office. For some reason, she glanced out the window down Walnut, at the spot where Nate had been parked a few minutes ago. She silently castigated herself for being such a coward. After all, she would never be alone with Arnold, or see him away from the hospital. She really didn’t face any kind of threat from him. Just verbal abuse, and she had to get used to that.

Pull yourself together, Holly. Do it for Tyler.

She took a deep breath, shrugged her shoulders, and called Canizaro on her cell phone. “Katie, I want to see Lance Arnold this afternoon. Could you track him down and get him in here, please? Tell him whatever you have to in order to get him here, okay?”

Canizaro hesitated a moment. “Will do, Dr. Bell. But are you all right? You sound upset.”

“I’m fine,” Holly said, more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m going to go head-to-head with Arnold, and I’d just as soon get it over with. It’s not going to be pretty.”

“Dr. Bell, you know I’m willing to be there with you. Just say the word.”

Canizaro was a tenacious and brave young woman. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask a couple of the security guards to hang close by. But this is something I need to do myself.”

Holly looked at her watch. Five o’clock. She pushed back her chair and stood up. She’d chosen the chair at the head of the table—the one Rosen always sat in. The authority chair. She figured she needed any little edge she could get. “Send him in, please.”

Lance Arnold ambled through the door with his peculiar, bowlegged swagger, like he had a stick up his ass. His face was already contorted with an ugly sneer.

Great, he’s already pissed off
.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Arnold.” She offered her hand, but he ignored it.

“Something gone wrong with Tyler?” he growled. “Your errand girl said it was urgent, but she wouldn’t tell me why. And I don’t fucking appreciate that.”

Holly flinched at his language as she sat back down. “Tyler’s doing quite well. Have you seen him today?”

Arnold shook his head and remained standing. “I’ll go down for a minute after this. But I have to be at work in an hour and I’ve got fifteen miles to drive. So, this better be quick.”

“Please sit down, Mr. Arnold.” She invested her voice with a great deal more confidence than she felt.

He pulled a chair out from the table and flopped down in it.

Holly clasped her hands together on the table in front of her, making sure she didn’t clench them too tightly. “I’ll get right to the point. As you know, Tyler is getting stronger every day. So, I don’t see any advantage in delaying surgery beyond next week. In fact, I’ve managed to secure an operating room for Monday.”

“You what?” Arnold hunched his shoulders and glared at her. “After what I told you yesterday? You’re kidding, right?” His voice was cold and disbelieving.

Holly gave him a stern look. Best to push back hard and fast and hope he caved.

Fat chance that was going to happen.

“I heard what you said yesterday, Mr. Arnold. Loud and clear. You don’t want to give your permission. But surely you realize that your position can`t be the end of the matter. I can and will move forward, with or without your permission if I deem it medically necessary. And—”

“You’ll go to court.” His face had turned an alarming shade of red. The guy looked ready to stroke out.

“I’ve consulted with my chief of surgery, as well as with Dr. Morris, Tyler’s cardiologist.” She’d tracked down Morris after the M&M meeting, and had been surprised when he’d agreed to back her on her decision. But it did make this a bit easier. “We’re in agreement that Tyler should have the valve replacement, and that it should be done as soon as his condition permits. As I said, we’re confident that we can go ahead next week.”

She pushed a sheet of paper across the space between them. “This is the parental consent form. I would very much like you to sign it, as it will save us all a great deal of trouble. But if you choose not to, the hospital’s legal counsel will file a motion in court tomorrow. The legal test in these matters is to show the judge that by refusing consent, you are not demonstrably acting in the best interests of your child. We believe we have a very strong case in these circumstances.” She stressed the
we
.

Arnold snatched up the paper, glanced at it, then with eerie precision proceeded to rip it lengthwise, then crosswise. He pushed the pile of four pieces back at Holly. “How`s that for a signature?”

“I’m truly sorry,” Holly said, fighting to keep her composure. Something about the almost dispassionate way Arnold had ripped the paper threatened to unnerve her. “I wish there was something I could say to change your mind.”

Arnold got up and leaned against the table, the palms of his massive hands flat on the surface. He looked like he wanted to wrap those hands around her throat. “No, you’re the one who’s going to be changing her mind. If you don’t, you’re going to wish you had. Trust me on that.”