Chapter Thirteen Estera Roberts’ POV (Present Time: A Few Days Before)

Ever since I walked through the doors of Memorial Hospital, I had done everything I could to prove I was going to be a formidable contender in the surgical world, and of course the next best Surgeon in the entire country -- if not the world.
I had taken every chance I could to assist top surgeons in major surgeries, ensuring they know I am dependable and would have their back in any difficult cases or the very worst of scenarios. And that–-I trust–-had made Cole, who was the head of my department, assign me solo cases that someone in my level shouldn’t be handling. And thus it was quite worrying when I duck each time a nurse calls out to me or even approaches me. By 3 p.m. Tuesday, I wasn’t overly surprised to see Cole glowering down at me at the cafeteria.
“A word, Doctor Roberts?” he said as soon as I bravely raised my eyes to meet him. I nodded in resignation and he took the seat opposite mine.
“Hey,” I said with forced bravado.
“What’s going on?” he asked, arching his thick eyebrow at me. I found myself darting my gazes to admire his strong jawline and the perfectly formed face. Nothing seemed to be out of place. How is he not even a model? “Roberts?” he called my attention and I swallowed softly before meeting his intense eyes.
“I’m fine. I am not dying or anything of the sort,” I said in a low tone, trying to make a joke of my situation.
“The surgical team is used to you working as someone possessed, now you are not. Did something happen over the weekend you might want to share?”
“Like what?!” I said in almost a squeak and sat straighter on my seat. Holding his gaze intently and wondering if he was the type that frequents strip clubs, and if there was a possibility he might be at the same party we were invited to on Friday.
At the thought, my eyes widened in dismay. But then I relaxed a bit, knowing I would be wearing a mask and he would not even know it was me if by a stroke of bad luck he happened to be amongst the invitees. Cole was a well-known respected Surgeon in New York, but I could not place him in such a setting.
“Is it me then? Did I … cross a line?” He asked in his rich husky tone.
“What?! No! I can assure you, we are good,” I said quickly in protest, meeting his scrutinizing gaze. The last thing I needed was things to get awkward between us. By now it was evident Cole wanted me, and I would definitely not refuse him if he gets me worked up to a point of no return. The man looked like a sculpture of a Greek god! Come on!
But a few things are holding me back from him. And no it was not because he was my boss—for now at least—till I complete my internship later in the year. It was the very big problem of me being a 26-year-old virgin. But still, with that justifiable excuse in my head, my heart palpitated in negation to the claim.
There was something or someone holding me back from Cole. And even though I entertained the thought of giving myself to him, and even imagined how exquisite it would be to do so. I just couldn’t do it. Cole was a man I wished I could have wild passionate sex with -- the perfect office affair and was certain it would worth the risk. But going the whole mile just always left me cold.
“We are good, Cole,” I said, allowing a certain depth of warmness to sip into my tone as I subtly brushed my fingers against the back of his hand. I watched him work his jaw as he stared back at me with eyes that had suddenly gone dark and smoldering. Then he looked away, cleared his throat, and stood up.
“If you are absolutely certain nothing is wrong and you are well, Doctor, I will expect you to join me for a pharyngectomy in two hours,” he said in his usually cool tone, the one he uses with everyone else in the hospital.
A small smile tugged the corners of my lips. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and replied, “Yes, Doctor Foster.” A pharyngectomy is a surgery to remove and replace all or part of the pharynx (throat), and it was not the kind of surgery I would pass off, and he knew it.
I drank the coffee I had been swirling in my cup for a few minutes now, and stood up, following him from afar. All my fears in regards to the Friday gig were pushed to the back of my mind. I think I may have a little understanding of why Ameera sometimes calls me a lancet junkie. I suppose all I needed was for someone who knew my love for what I do or perhaps a like mind to give me a gentle shake. My eyes traveled down the length of him.
Cole wore his white doctor’s coat over gray pants and a light blue shirt which was turned up by the sleeves, showing off his strong muscled arms. His clothing was unable to hide his toned body, it only gave a hint to what lies beneath. I studied his perfect body like one would a forbidden fruit or a tray of confectioneries when one is supposed to be on diet. When he turned and caught my gaze he grinned and winked. I gape as if I was just caught shoplifting. Clearing my throat, I directed my eyes at the plain floor. It was crystal clear that I was attracted to him, and he in turn wanted me as bad if not more.
Now the problem was, would I ever be brave enough to allow myself to cross the line with Cole? Or do I intend to wait forever for a man who was part of a life I had left behind? A man who may have forgotten we ever crossed paths? My heart tightened so painfully, I breathed through parted lips to ease the pain.