The Good Doctor by Karen Rose Smith

understood, she gave a little shrug. “It has more advantages than disadvantages. The truth is I probably was pampered and spoiled. Still, being the only girl, I was also lonely. That’s why I can understand a little how Celeste feels.”
    They were standing close now and she could remember everything about their night together, his gentleness and compassion, his strong arms around her, the scent of him, his body’s arousal that he’d restrained and ignored.
    As his gaze fell to her lips, her limbs felt weak. Then he backed away and she took a deep breath.
    â€œIf you’re going to be here tomorrow, I’ll try to find you after surgery and tell you how everything went,” he said evenly.
    â€œI’ll be in the lounge,” she responded, gesturing down the hall to the waiting room.
    When he turned to leave, she added, “Peter, I’ll be praying everything goes well.”
    He nodded and then walked away.
    When Violet stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, she leaned against the back wall. Peter Clark definitely shook up her world and she had to decide if she was going to let him in or keep him out.
    Right now it was a toss-up.

Six
    A fter the night in Houston when Peter had held Violet in his arms, he’d made a decision. He had to stop whatever was happening between them and stop it fast. More than once he’d told himself physical satisfaction was fleeting. Although he knew in his gut that he and Violet would be good together, he also knew they’d get burned badly. She was exactly the type of woman he didn’t date. Her life was a product of her career, as was his. Mix long distance into the recipe and they’d both be headed for disaster. People their age were set in their ways. Change could happen, but it was damn hard. He wanted a woman who put him, home and family first.
    All that resolved, he still felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut when he saw Violet with Celeste early Monday morning before the six-year-old’s surgery. She was leaning over the little girl, comforting her, holding her hand. Thankful he didn’t have time for conversation, he simply told Violet he’d let her know when Celeste’s surgery was over.
    Three hours later, he half expected her to be gone. But there she was, standing in the hospital lounge, looking out the window. Her profile was so purely feminine, her hair so damn shiny, her chin so assertive yet vulnerable at the same time, he took a deep breath and stayed put in the doorway.
    â€œViolet,” he said in an even tone.
    She swung around, her face expectant.
    â€œThe fusion went well. Celeste’s prognosis will depend on how determined she is to get better. She’ll be in recovery for the next two hours and back up to ICU for tonight. We’re hoping to move her to a regular room tomorrow.”
    If he’d wanted to keep a distance from Violet, he couldn’t because she hurried toward him, her face bright, her eyes filled with gratitude. “While I’m here, I’ll help her get better. She needs somebody to champion her…besides you.”
    â€œShe will need support to walk again,” he agreed. “Rehab is tough, but kids are usually resilient.” He stopped, not wanting to prolong their conversation, but needing to cover two other points. “Have you heard from Ryan?”
    â€œNo, not a word. I wanted to give him a little time. But I’m worried about him. I’ll call him this afternoon on his cell phone.”
    â€œI’m going to invite him to lunch or dinner or something and we’re going to discuss treatments. He can’t look at this as hopeless. Not yet.”
    By the expression on Violet’s face, he saw she was struggling with her own feelings on the subject. Although she might strongly want Ryan to look for treatment, she would respect his decision, no matter what it was.
    Peter couldn’t do that. He simply couldn’t.