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Talking about work was easy. She knew she’d been tense this last week. Turning every corner in her workplace—her safe place—and wondering if she might see the man who’d told her she wasn’t good enough was unnerving.
She’d no wish or desire to speak to Reuben again. But she’d heard he’d asked after her. How much could she realistically avoid him?
She stared at the paperwork in front of her, trying not to focus on Joe’s strong hands as his fingers curved around the pen. What was wrong with her?
Concentrate.
Her brain was going places it shouldn’t.
It had only been a hug, and she’d do well to remember that.
She held in a sigh and stared back at the protocol in front of her. For the first time in her life, she was tempted to mix work with pleasure. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed the logical part of her brain could only hear the pitter-patter of her heart.
This had disaster stamped all over it. Having Reuben around reminded her just how far apart her world was from Joe’s.
What was that children’s story—The Prince and the Pauper? That was how far apart they felt to her. No matter what his eyes had told her in that hug earlier. If he knew the truth about her, and her poor background, he would start to look at her differently, more coolly.
She remembered how that felt. How belittling. How sad it had made her.
And even though her brain told her all this, she could tell that her heart wasn’t listening.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE TELEVISION CREW was like a virus. They seemed to spread everywhere, particularly into parts of the hospital they’d been explicitly told they weren’t allowed.
On the other hand, the surgeries that Reuben had performed over the last few weeks were proving to be a miracle for some of the patients.
He didn’t just do the showbiz plastic surgery. He’d performed a skin graft on a child who’d had her face scarred by boiling water. The early results were good. He’d also performed surgery on a woman with contracture of her fingers. For the first time in years she was virtually pain-free and had a hand she could actually use. He’d reset a woman’s nose and fixed her shattered cheekbone after she’d been attacked by her ex-husband and had thought she’d be disfigured for life. Even from the sidelines, Lien’s heart had tugged as the woman had seen her reflection once the bruising had subsided and had then flung her arms around Reuben in complete gratitude.
These were the moments for which Lien had become a doctor and, a long time ago, Reuben had made her believe this was also his reason for being a surgeon.
The cynical part of her knew that when the moment had been captured by the film crew, Reuben had achieved the best publicity he could possibly hope for. It wasn’t a mistake. There was obviously another reason for all this, but so far Lien had managed to avoid him completely and now her curious brain wanted to know what he was really up to.
She and Khiem had been discussing two other potential patients for Reuben. One was a maternity patient who’d had an emergency section in an outlying village and had been left with a persistently leaking wound. They’d spent the last few weeks treating her underlying infection with IV antibiotics, and were hopeful that Reuben could use his skills on the scar and they could finally get the wound to heal.
The second was a child with a congenital condition who required facial surgery to assist his breathing. The surgeries were vastly different—but already the TV team were asking for permission regarding filming and publicity. It made Lien feel distinctly uncomfortable, but there was nothing she could do about it. Reuben was offering his time and services free, the hospital was picking up the aftercare. In any other set of circumstances these patients would never get the opportunity for surgery.
She’d just finished a ward round and was writing up a treatment regime for a TB patient when she sensed someone walk into the room behind her.
She hadn’t even turned before every cell in her body froze. The confidence of the footsteps followed by the waft of familiar cologne was all it took.
‘Why, there she is, the mystery doctor!’ Reuben exclaimed.
She kept working. ‘I’m busy,’ was her brisk reply.
‘Aren’t we all?’ He swept over to her with a swish of the white coat he persisted in wearing.
‘What do you want, Reuben?’ she sighed, still refusing to look up.
‘Why, Lien? What’s wrong? Anyone would think you weren’t pleased to see me.’
‘Anyone would be right.’
His hand closed over hers, and she was so shocked it took a second for her to snatch it away.
‘Lien, why be like this? We were such good friends.’ She couldn’t quite work out if he was being deliberately sarcastic or if he really was so wrapped up in himself he couldn’t see further than the end of his own nose.
‘What are you doing here, Reuben?’
Now she did look up. He pretended to look hurt. ‘Why do you think I’m here? I want to give a little back to the people of Hanoi.’
‘And yet it’s taken you six years to realise that is your calling.’ The sarcastic words shot out before she had a chance to soften and rephrase them. She mentally cursed herself. It didn’t matter how she felt about him, she still wanted him to do the surgeries on the two other patients.
It was so weird, staring into the face again of the man she’d thought she might have loved. It had been so long. His light brown skin had a strange sheen, his hair much darker than before. In fact, it looked a bit odd around his hairline. Years ago, Reuben’s hair had been a bit thinner and he’d been paranoid about it. Had he had a hair transplant?
He’d always been good looking, but his face seemed different. Maybe he’d had some work done. She couldn’t quite tell. The skin on his forehead and around his eyes was unusually smooth. Maybe some Botox? One thing was for certain, he’d had every single one of his teeth veneered. They’d been reasonably straight before, but now they were sparkling white and uniformly sized.
She laughed out loud. ‘You look quite different.’
‘I’m in the business,’ he said quickly. ‘When people come to see a plastic surgeon, they expect perfection. I try my best.’
‘There was nothing wrong with the way you looked before,’ she said quietly, and a little sadly.
His green eyes met hers. Even they looked different—a bit more startling. Was he wearing green contacts?
She sighed. How could she ever have thought they were on the same wavelength? She had no problem with anyone trying to improve their appearance if they chose to. But Reuben seemed to be trying to achieve an unrealistic perfection. That couldn’t be healthy.
He waved his hand. ‘Anyway...’ his eyes swept up and down her body ‘...pleased to see you haven’t let yourself go.’
She blinked, temporarily incensed at the entirely unprofessional comment. Her body was rigid and she struggled to keep her voice steady. ‘Well, obviously my whole life depends on your approval of how I look, Reuben.’
One of his eyebrows cocked. She was surprised the Botox allowed it. They hadn’t seen in each other in a long time and her obvious indifferent attitude to him wasn’t sitting well.
She really didn’t care. She was holding back—really she was. If she truly engaged her brain and her mouth he would doubtless walk out of here and never come back.
She took a breath. ‘Tell the truth. What’s going on—why are you really here?’
He leaned against the worktop, moving slightly closer to her. He seemed to be under the illusion that she might welcome this.
‘You know me, I’m just being civic-minded.’
She finished her chart. ‘You’re right. I do know you. At least, I do now. So, spill, Reuben. What gives?’
He looked down towards his handmade shoes for a second. ‘I might need a little help.’
‘Help with what?
’
He straightened his back. ‘It seems I might have some bad publicity heading my way. My publicist said that I should—’
‘Your what?’ She couldn’t help but interrupt. She’d heard everything now.
