Unchained Memories (11 page)

“N—no. Of course not.” She hadn’t meant to sound so indignant, but she couldn’t let him think she’d been stalking him. “I was just walking through town to my office. I’ve been at Renee’s all day, babysitting. When I saw the sign I stopped, wondering if this was your brothers’ place. I guess it is.”

“Yep. After work, I brought over my tax stuff. John was not amused.” Clay shrugged.

“It is a little late, don’t you think?” She eyed him, attempting to assess his mood. Was he happy to see her?

He ignored her question. “I’m starving. Did you eat dinner yet?”

Her heart did a happy triple beat. “No. Renee invited me for chicken fingers with the kids, but I’ve had my fill of those recently.” She was more than a little hungry herself, but she didn’t want to appear so totally available. “I have to go to the office to get some work done tonight since I didn’t get there today.”

“Well, you have to eat, don’t you? It’s still early and there should be no wait anywhere. How about Wineapple’s?”

She grinned at his persistence. “Sounds good.”
Perfect, actually
. A popular bar restaurant within walking distance that was casual, but just right for an impromptu date.

As expected, they were seated immediately, and Charlotte agreed to have one glass of wine in the spirit of spontaneity. While they ate, they chatted amiably about their respective families and the great weather and commiserated over taxes due and the hours they put in at work.

“What has you working on a Saturday night?” asked Clay after they had finished their meals.

No, no, no. We can’t talk about work.
She chose her words carefully, making sure she didn’t say anything that would get him started on the evils of malpractice cases. “I’m working on a big case and I want to finish reviewing the file.”

“What hospital or doctor are you suing?” His tone held no sarcasm or malice. Was he just curious?

“I thought we agreed not to talk about work. Nothing good can come from answering that question, so let’s just change the subject.” Charlotte bit her lip and lowered her lids, trying to avoid Clay’s laser-like scrutiny of her face. She felt the heat blaze in her cheeks as he continued to study her.

“Is it the case against Nassau General? The one with Dr. Gallway?”

She nodded, unable to lie, but refusing to engage in conversation.

Clay averted his gaze and stared at the wall, his jaw tightening and his hand practically squeezing his beer bottle to death. She had to diffuse this situation or at best, they’d be arguing heatedly, and at worst, leaving in a huff.

“Clay.” She spoke softly, feeling her emotions pour through her. “I am so happy we’ve been able to reconnect. I don’t want my job, or yours, to ruin what we have, whatever that is. That may be naïve. But I am representing Gina Belton. She’s a quadriplegic because of a medical mistake. She’s only twenty-four. She’s a spirited, beautiful, blond-haired sports junkie who had just received her master’s degree in sports medicine. She had a dream job lined up as a trainer for the women athletes at Rutgers. She won’t be able to do that now. She won’t be able to physically do much of anything.”

Charlotte watched Clay’s expression as she talked, praying he’d soften after hearing about the human being whose former life was now gone. Forever. She reached across the table and placed her hand on his, trying to ease the tension out of it. At least he didn’t flinch or pull away.

He took a pull on his beer, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know you’re passionate about your cases, Charley. But don’t you see that these types of lawsuits are paralyzing the medical community? Absurd multi-million dollar verdicts lead to huge insurance premiums. More and more doctors are leaving the practice because they can’t afford to pay those premiums. That, coupled with the health insurance carriers who are limiting payment on our services, are interfering with the quality of medical care. Everyone loses.” The calmness in his voice belied the underlying current. “Doctors aren’t God. We can’t cure all. And we’re subject to human error.”

“I understand that. But people with catastrophic injuries need compensation. Maybe, just maybe, they could have a better quality of life if they have the money to help with their ongoing care. And hopefully, these lawsuits will affect the hospitals and doctors enough to assure that a similar negligence will not happen in the future.” She felt like she was arguing to the jury.

“We are never going to agree on this issue, Charley.” Clay’s eyes held the same sadness that squeezed at her heart.

“I know,” she said softly, lowering her lids to hide the pain of their insurmountable conflict. “I was hoping we could have stayed away from this subject, but I guess it’s going to be impossible.”

As soon as the check came, Clay paid it, holding up his hand to stop her from contributing. “It’s on me. We better go so you can get to work.”

Charlotte’s feet felt like lead as they walked out of the restaurant, the lump in her throat growing with every second.

On the sidewalk outside, Clay ended the misery with a curt good-bye. “See you around, Charley.”

Words stuck in her chest, unable to escape, but it wasn’t necessary. Clay rounded the corner and was gone.

Chapter Ten

Charlotte sat at her office desk early on Monday morning scrolling through the events at Pendleton Theater, the premier auditorium in Princeton, which hosted a variety of plays, dance companies, and concerts.

Despite the knowledge she and Clay were not meant to be, she couldn’t let it go. Not yet. So she decided on an excuse to call Clay and invite him out. Tickets to a play or concert seemed the most logical and easiest ruse. Or maybe he liked sports better. Unfortunately, she was at a loss there and couldn’t even venture a guess about his favorite teams. Besides, it was April. Too early for baseball, too late for football, and did anyone really go to professional basketball games?

Turning her attention back to the theater’s upcoming events, she scanned the offerings. Of course, a major flaw was she didn’t know his schedule and she might be stuck with tickets to something she didn’t want to see. All because she came up with this lame plan while she wrestled with her sheets last night instead of sleeping.

But sleep had eluded her as she tried to ignore their recent disagreement in favor of the magic of their evening together earlier last week. He had to have felt the same tremors she had as they kissed. The intensity in his eyes told her more than any words. The heat from his fingers as they caressed her cheek confirmed he had some feelings for her. Charlotte couldn’t have imagined the earthquake that rocked her as she molded her body into his, the tender strength she felt as he held her close. No matter how short-lived.

They couldn’t allow their philosophical differences over the malpractice issue to ruin what might be their key to happiness, joy, and love.

She covered her face with her hands. What was she talking about? Love was off-limits, out-of-bounds, taboo. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it. In fact, she knew firsthand it wasn’t worth the pain. Yet, this was Clay back in her orbit and close enough to touch. She simply could not walk away from him without at least considering a compromise to her viewpoint about relationships.

A frustrated sigh escaped over her indecision to press the enter key to purchase play tickets for Friday night. Maybe they should be for Saturday. No, too date-like. Maybe Sunday afternoon. Not date-like enough.

She finally pulled the plug and did it. Two tickets to
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
for Friday at eight. Now for the invitation. Should she email, phone, or text? And why does she have these tickets? The decisions were unending and interfering with her getting a stich of work done.

She checked her contacts for Clay’s cell phone number, which he had given her before their first dinner together in case she was running late. Fortuitous.

Her heartbeat galloped as she waited for Clay to pick up, but it was only his voicemail.

“Hi, Clay. It’s Charley. I wanted to thank you for dinner Saturday night. It was fun...until we got onto a bad subject.”
Oh, brother
. “I’m hoping you’ll let me apologize this time with an invitation. If you’re not working, or have other plans on Friday night, I have tickets to
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
. One of the partners here gave them to me.”
Where did that come from?
Should she be trying to start a relationship with him based on a lie? Too optimistic to even think the word relationship. This was a mere opportunity for two old friends to try again to get past a thorny issue. “So, if you could make it, that would be great. If not, no problem. I’ll find someone else.”

She hit herself on the forehead. Was she making it too easy for him to decline her invitation? “Not that I want to take someone else. It would be great if you could come.”
Abort mission. Hang up now. I repeat, hang up.
“So, just get back to me when you can. You can call me at work or on my cell. Bye.”

She put her face in her hands and groaned, feeling every bit like the eighteen-year-old Charley who planned her days around running into Clay at the hospital. How pathetic.

After throwing her cell phone into her purse, she kicked her purse under her desk. The only way to brush that embarrassing message out of her mind was to get to work, and that’s what she did for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until nearly seven when she checked her messages. Holding her breath, she listened, first to her sister who needed her to babysit for the next few Saturdays, and then to Clay. Fireworks exploded in front of her as he said he was able to re-arrange his schedule and take off Friday night. He’d pick her up at her house at seven thirty if that worked for her.

Of course it worked. Anything would work. They could skip the play and it would work.

Friday evening couldn’t come soon enough. Charlotte rushed home at five-thirty, early for her to leave the office, and took a quick shower. It would have been easier for both of them to have met at the theater after work, instead of Clay driving over to her house, before returning to the center of town, but this way seemed more like a date. Besides, Charlotte was happy to discard her suit and put on her favorite designer jeans and a slinky black top.

At exactly seven thirty, the doorbell rang. Charlotte grabbed her leather jacket and clutch, took one more look in the mirror then rushed to get the door.

Her breath caught as she held the door open for Clay to enter, taking in his six-foot-two body clad in black jeans, black tee and a gray sports coat. His thick, dark hair was still shower damp and his green eyes appeared almost gray against his charcoal jacket.

“Hi,” she breathed on a sigh.

“Hi, yourself.” His eyes sparkled as they roamed her frame. “You look...very sexy.”

Exactly what she was going for. “Thanks.” She held back on the compliment to him, having cautioned herself earlier to rein it in. Be cool.

He glanced around her living room/dining room decorated in grandmother style. Dark green velvet fabric covered the sofa and love seat. A floral overstuffed chair completed the seating arrangement. The coffee table and dining room set were the same shade of walnut, both with claw feet, and the dining chairs sported seats covered in black floral chintz. Maybe great-grandmother style. “The house came furnished.” She couldn’t allow him to think this was her taste.

He nodded. “That makes it easy.”

“I guess I should put up some art work, maybe photos. Make it look a little homier. But I’m rarely here and I don’t know how long I’m staying.”

Clay’s eyes met hers and his jaw tightened, a familiar trait that predicted his displeasure with something. Could it be her disinterest in home décor or something more personal? Like the fact this was a temporary abode and she was returning to California? She could only hope it was the latter.

“We should go,” he said. “I don’t know how far away we’ll have to park.”

She checked her bag for the tickets and pulled out her keys, locking the door behind her.

He took her hand in his as he led her to the car and the jolt of electricity shooting up her arm would be enough to keep her buzzing all night.

“Thanks for giving me an excuse to leave the hospital early tonight. I’ve been there four nights this week.”

“Glad I could help.” And glad he hadn’t brought up the reason behind this date. Hopefully, he’d see this as a chance to spend more time with her, and not just as an apology date as she led him to believe.

It didn’t take long to get to their destination, find parking, and join the throngs of locals who took advantage of great theater in their backyards.

“Clay?” A male voice came from their left. “What are you doing here, man? I thought you were on duty tonight?” Matt stood before them with a supermodel on his arm. Very long, blond hair, tall with violet eyes, and wearing what looked to be very expensive white silk pants and blouse that fit her like it was made for her. Absolutely gorgeous.

“Charley called with tickets for tonight, so I switched with Vic. What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were the theater type.”

“This is Emily Stone. Emily, my partner in the ER, Clay Montgomery. His friend, Charley Taylor.”

They all shook hands and exchanged polite greetings, but Charlotte couldn’t help but dwell on the way Matt said friend. Like he was putting air quotes around the word to clue Emily in on what Charlotte was to Clay. Did he mean to suggest she and Clay weren’t really friends or that they were more than friends? Neither interpretation was correct.

“What are you doing after the performance?” asked Matt, an eager smile on his face.

Please don’t agree to get together with them for a drink
, prayed Charlotte. Her plan tonight was to enjoy some alone time with Clay, perhaps at a quiet bar in town, or maybe even at her place. She had bought some good wine and chilled it to the perfect temperature, just in case. She had to prove they could co-exist without animosity. The play was a necessary two hours of sitting next to Clay without communicating, all with the goal of getting through that part of the agenda and moving on to the important part.