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‘Exactly. Arissa, what aren’t you telling me? Most doctors would be delighted to be part of this research. The prestige you’ll get from this alone is amazing.’
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘What if I don’t want the prestige?’ she whispered.
He frowned and reached over to touch her arm. ‘What?’
She shook her head. ‘I think this research will pretty much explode. There will be conferences and presentations. There will be expectations that I should chat to press about the research and the findings.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘That’s not me. I don’t like that. I don’t want to be in the public eye.’
He looked stunned. It was the only word to describe the look on his face.
Her stomach was churning. This was personal; it was a bit of herself she didn’t like to reveal, but she’d thought he’d understand—chalk it up to anxiety. So many of her friends and colleagues wouldn’t dream of being interviewed or standing in front of a room full of people to present research findings. And while that might not be her reason for resisting being lead publisher on the research paper, it was the one she’d fall back on for now.
‘That’s it?’ he queried again.
She nodded. ‘There are plenty of other doctors who have worked on this project who would love to be named on the research. I’m happy to step aside. I’m happy to let them deal with all the publicity around it.’
She let out a wry laugh. ‘And anyway, my speciality is paediatric oncology, not wound healing.’
But it was clear he wasn’t really buying it. ‘What you’ve done here is good. Just about any doctor I know would want to have their name attached to this.’
‘Including you?’ she snapped. She was getting frustrated now.
He spoke carefully, deep lines appearing on his face as he tried to keep things in check. ‘Arissa, this work could be monumental. Headline making.’
‘Exactly, and I don’t want to make headlines. I’d much rather be in the background.’
It was apparent he didn’t understand. ‘I just think credit should be given where it is due.’
‘Leave it, Philippe.’ She was tired. ‘I want the research out there. I just don’t want to be in the spotlight. I don’t want to be in the spotlight at all.’
His face became firm and her stomach flipped a little. For a while it had seemed as if they were about to get to know each other better. The walls around him had come down a bit and she wondered how much more there was to find out about Philippe Aronaz.
But her actions and words had just killed that chance.
She sighed as he stood up and brushed the sand from his trousers. Ever the gentleman, he waited for her to stand up too and put her sandals back on her feet.
The walk home was silent and she blamed herself for the painful awkwardness of it all.
‘See you tomorrow?’ she said as she finally reached her door. She couldn’t help the hopeful tone in her voice.
‘Of course.’ His answer was perfunctory and delivered with a sharp nod. She watched as he turned and strode down the quiet street.
After a few seconds she rested her head on her door and gave it a half-hearted thump. The guy had given up his holiday to help out at her clinic. He’d offered to help with the research so it didn’t fall behind. He didn’t need to do any of those things.
He’d taken her to dinner then asked her to go for a walk when it was clear she was still stressed. The guy should be getting nominated for some kind of sainthood. Her?
She’d behaved like Mrs Angry and Mrs Ungrateful. He couldn’t possibly understand her feelings because she hadn’t wanted to explain. She didn’t feel as if she could. She still couldn’t put her finger on it.
Maybe it was the fact she was trying to deny how good-looking and charming he actually was. She was fighting any possible attraction for reasons that only she could understand.
It wasn’t wise to mix business with pleasure—even for such a short duration. Plus the fact she still thought there was a lot more beneath the surface of Philippe. There was the distinct impression he wasn’t telling her everything she might want to know.
