Chapter Four
Maryse raced back to her office, eager for two things: first, to confront the sneaky, bossy Luc and second, to study her lab supply book cover to cover to figure out exactly what she could buy with her lease money. This money could make a huge difference in her success, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. She was starting to doubt her personal quest for a medical breakthrough altogether. Better lab equipment would aid in her research and her morale.
If only Blooming Flower had told her what plant she’d used in her medicine before she died. But the Native woman had been tight-lipped about revealing any of her secrets. With a little more time, Maryse knew she could have won the woman over, but time ran out. As it always seemed to where Maryse was concerned.
Maryse sighed. Despite her misgivings about anything associated with Helena, it was hard not to be excited about what she could do with the money. Just knowing that the alternative could have meant the end of Mudbug made her heart catch in her throat. But things had turned out for the better.
At least she thought it was for the better.
She tried to focus on the highway in front of her, but her temples were pounding in time with her heartbeat. Maryse was beginning to suspect that the bossy Luc was right and she needed to see a doctor. The aspirin she’d taken only thirty minutes ago hadn’t done a thing. In fact, her headache was worse.
Yet another delay was annoying, but she refused to be one of those stubborn people who ignored all the signs until it was too late. Like her dad had. With a sigh, she pulled off the highway at the far end of Mudbug and headed for the hospital.
The emergency room was fairly quiet, and a nurse told her that a doctor should be able to see her almost immediately. She followed the nurse down the hall to a lab where a man in a green lab coat took an X-ray of the lump on her head. Then the nurse escorted her to an available room and said the doctor would be in shortly.
Maryse sat on the end of the hospital bed, the paper runner crinkling beneath her, and tried not to worry, especially since worrying tended to make the lump pound harder. It was just a bit of a goose egg. No worse than the ones she got as a kid playing around the bayou. Still, why did they always ask you to sit on those uncomfortable beds? Why couldn’t you just sit on the chair in the corner like a normal person?
She was just contemplating a move to the corner chair when the door opened and Dr. Breaux walked in, followed closely by a much younger, cuter man who was smiling directly at her.
“Hello, Maryse,” Dr. Breaux said. “This is Doctor Warren.”
Maryse tried not to ogle.
“Doctor Warren transferred here from New Orleans last week. He’ll be taking over some patients for me as I move into semi-retirement, so I want to introduce him to as many people in Mudbug as I can.”
Dr. Hottie stuck out his hand, and Maryse shook it, the ache in her head suddenly not quite so painful. “Nice to meet you,” she said warmly.
Dr. Warren cocked his head to one side and laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He still held her hand in his. “Advanced Chemistry, Mrs. Thibodeaux…Christopher Warren.”
Maryse studied the man again, mentally running through the entire seating chart of high school chemistry. “Holy crap! Christopher?” She stared in surprise, the image of the thin, dorky, pimply-faced adolescent rushing back to her in a flash. “I would never have recognized you.”
Christopher smiled. “Late bloomer.”
Maryse laughed. “Better than not blooming at all, I guess.”
“Uhmm,” Dr. Breaux cleared his throat. “All class reunion business aside, we have three other patients waiting.”
Christopher immediately snapped back to professional demeanor. “Of course, Doctor Breaux.” He gently brushed the bangs away from Maryse’s head and took a look at the offensive lump. “Got a doozy of a goose egg there.”
“Is that your official medical opinion?” Maryse joked.
Christopher smiled. “Absolutely. Are you saying you’re already unsatisfied with my services?”
Maryse struggled to maintain her composure. Was he flirting? Surely not. Two men in one week was so far beyond her average it wasn’t even in the ballpark. Realizing she’d never answered, Maryse said hurriedly, “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I never thought it was that bad, but everyone kept insisting I have it checked out so…”
Christopher nodded. “That’s always a good idea with a head injury, no matter how slight it seems.”
He stuck the X-rays on a machine and flipped on the light. Dr. Breaux stepped over, and they analyzed the gray blobs and mumbled to each other. As Christopher studied the X-rays, Maryse studied him. Okay, so he wasn’t exactly her type. Christopher was too pretty, too turned out, too GQ. Maryse liked her men a little more rugged. Five-star restaurants weren’t exactly her usual fare—just give her a guy who could drive a bass boat and shoot a gun. Christopher looked too refined for shooting anything but photos with his phone.
But he’s a doctor.
Maryse couldn’t help but think of all the possibilities a successful relationship with a doctor might bring. There was so much she didn’t know about the body’s chemical reaction to medication, so much she needed to learn but only so many hours in the day. And far more importantly, a man like Christopher was probably a much safer bet than a ladies’ man like Luc. God knows, she’d already made that mistake once and wasn’t interested in being a two-time loser.
She took a look at his perfectly manicured hands, then glanced at her own chewed nails. She remembered Christopher from high school, the quiet, brilliant kid who hid in the back of the classroom trying not to draw any attention to himself. That was probably the only reason Maryse had noticed him…because she was busy doing the same thing but without the benefit of being brilliant.
He had helped her with her homework a couple of times, never actually looking her in the eye, his neck flushed with red the entire time. Christopher Warren had been a nice kid and had probably become a nice man. And maybe, just maybe, if she had another man around, she wouldn’t spend so much time thinking about Luc.
Her mind made up, she flashed Christopher her best smile as he turned around to look at her. “Am I going to live?” she asked.
He returned her smile and nodded. “I’m afraid so, but with one whopper of a headache for a couple of days. I can prescribe you something stronger than aspirin for that, but otherwise, I just want you to take it easy until the swelling goes down. Try not to jostle your head and it will heal a little faster. If it lasts more than a week, I’ll need to see you back here.” He looked over at Dr. Breaux for confirmation.
“Doctor Warren is correct,” Dr. Breaux said. “The X-ray doesn’t show anything to cause alarm, but you should watch the lump over the next couple of days and come back in if it gets worse.” He patted Maryse on the shoulder and nodded to Christopher. “I’ll leave you to the prescription writing. That way I don’t have to pull out my glasses again.” He smiled at both of them and left the room.
“Alone at last,” Christopher said, and smiled at Maryse.
Okay, he’s probably flirting.
Christopher pulled a prescription pad from his pocket and began to write, then handed her the slip of paper.
She took it without looking and asked, “Can I get this filled at the hospital pharmacy?”
He flashed her a broad grin. “I rather doubt it. That’s my phone number.”
Definitely flirting.
“If your head isn’t killing you in a couple of days,” Christopher continued, “I’d love to take you to dinner. We can catch up on the post–high school life events, and I’d love to hear about the work you’re doing here. Botany, right?”
Maryse nodded.
“Besides,” Christopher continued, “any woman who wears a cocktail dress for an emergency room visit has got to be an interesting date. Call me whenever you feel up to it.” He handed her a second slip of paper. “This is for your headache, and yes, the pharmacy should have them in stock.”
Maryse held in a groan when he mentioned the cocktail dress. She hadn’t even thought about how strange she must look. Heck, the whole day had already been so strange that now the dress seemed such a small matter. But hey, if it got her date offers from cute doctors, then maybe she’d have to reconsider Sabine’s shopping suggestion. She took the second sheet of paper, and Christopher lingered a bit, making sure his fingers brushed against hers. She waited for a spark, for her skin to tingle, but had to admit that aside from wondering what brand of lotion he used to keep his hands so soft, she really didn’t get much out of it at all.
“I’ll give you a call,” she promised, and stuck the slips in her purse.
He gave her arm a squeeze and walked out of the room. Maryse leaned over slightly to study his behind as he walked away. Not as good-looking as Luc’s. With a sigh, she hopped off the table and made her way down the hall to the pharmacy. It didn’t mean a thing. Most men in the world didn’t have a butt as nice as Luc LeJeune’s. Besides, butts weren’t everything. One day she’d be too old to see it, and her arthritis too bad to squeeze it, right?
She was insane—there was no doubt in her mind. Apparently, she was more attracted to men who wouldn’t stick around long enough to leave a scent on the sheets than men who would probably not only leave a scent but help with the laundering. Christopher was good-looking, successful, and seemed to be just as nice now as he had been in high school.
But even as she ran through Christopher’s list of attributes, a mental picture of Luc flashed through her mind—leaned back in her office chair, looking at her with that slow, sexy smile, his jeans rippling in all the right places. Stopping in the middle of the hall, she closed her eyes, silently willing the scene to go away. Then she pulled the slip of paper with Christopher’s number from her purse. No more playboys, regardless of how sexy their butts were. She was going to learn to walk on the safe side.
For once in her life, she was going to do the boring, responsible thing.