Priceless

She regarded him with a surprised sparkle in her eyes. “What a lovely thing to say, Mack. That must explain why you’re such a hit with the ladies.”

Mack could have told her it wasn’t his sweet-talk that won the hearts of the women he dated, but there were some things a man simply didn’t say to his aunt. If she wanted to believe he owed his social life to being a nice guy, he was more than willing to let her. It might keep a few tart-tongued lectures at bay.

* * *

“It’s a game, for heaven’s sake,” pediatric oncologist Beth Browning declared, earning a thoroughly disgusted look from her male colleagues at Children’s Cancer Hospital. “A game played by grown men, who ought to be using their brains instead of their brawn—assuming of course that their brains haven’t been scrambled.”

“We’re talking about professional football,” radiologist Jason Morgan protested, as if she’d uttered blasphemy. “It’s about winning and losing. It’s a metaphor for good triumphing over evil.”

“I don’t hear the surgeons saying that when they’re patching up some kid’s broken bones after a Saturday game,” Beth said.

“Football injuries are a rite of passage,” Hal Watkins, the orthopedic physician, insisted.

“And a boon to your practice,” she noted.

“Hey,” he protested. “That’s not fair. Nobody wants to see a kid get hurt.”

“Then keep ’em off the field,” Beth suggested.

Jason looked shocked. “Then who’d grow up to play professional sports?”

“Oh, please, why does anyone have to do that?” Beth retorted, warming to the topic. She’d read about Mack Carlton and his rise from star quarterback to team owner. The man had a law degree, for goodness’ sakes. What a waste! Not that she was a huge admirer of lawyers, given the way their greediness had led to hikes in malpractice insurance.

“Because it’s football, for crying out loud,” Hal replied, as if the game were as essential for survival as air.

“Come on, guys. It’s a game. Nothing more, nothing less.” She turned to appeal to Peyton Lang, the hematologist, who’d been silent until now. “What do you think?”

He held up his hands. “You’re not drawing me into this one. I’m ambivalent. I don’t care that much about football, but I don’t have a problem if anyone else happens to find it entertaining.”

“Don’t you think it’s absurd that so much time, money and energy is being wasted in pursuit of some stupid title?” Beth countered.

“The winner of the Super Bowl rules!” Jason insisted.

“Rules what?” Beth asked.

“The world.”

“I wasn’t aware they played football in most of the rest of the world. Let’s face it, in this town it’s about some rich guy who has enough money to buy the best players so he’ll have something to get excited about on Sunday afternoons,” she said scathingly. “If Mack Carlton had a life, if he had a family, if he had anything important to do, he wouldn’t be wasting his money on a football team.”

Rather than the indignant protests she’d expected, Beth was stunned when every man around her in the hospital cafeteria fell silent. Guilty looks were exchanged, the kind that said humiliation was just around the corner.

“You sure you don’t want to reconsider that remark?” Jason asked, giving her an odd, almost pleading look.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you mentioned when we started this discussion that you’ve been trying to get Mack Carlton in here to visit with Tony Vitale,” Jason said. “The kid’s crazy about him. You thought meeting Mack might lift his spirits, since the chemo hasn’t been going that well.”

Her gaze narrowed. “So? This community-minded paragon of football virtue hasn’t bothered to respond to even one of my calls.”

Jason cleared his throat and gestured behind her.

Oh, hell, she thought as she slowly turned and stared up at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the custom-tailored suit who was regarding her with a solemn, steady gaze. He had a faint scar under one eye, but that did nothing to mar his good looks. In fact, it merely added character to a perfectly sculpted face and drew attention to eyes so dark, so enigmatic, that she trembled under the impact. Everything about his appearance spoke of money, taste and arrogance, except maybe the hairstyle, which had a Harrison Ford kind of spikiness to it.

“Dr. Browning?” he inquired in an incredulous tone that suggested he’d been expecting someone older and definitely someone male.

Despite the unspoken but definitely implied insult, his quiet, smooth voice eased through Beth, then delivered a belated punch. She tried to gather her wits and to form the apology he deserved, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d never have deliberately insulted him to his face, even if she did have an abundance of scorn for men who wasted money on athletic pursuits that could be better spent on saving mankind.

“She’ll be with you as soon as she gets her foot out of her mouth,” Jason said, breaking the tension.

Grateful to the radiologist for helping her out, she managed to stand and offer her hand. “Mr. Carlton, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously,” he said, his lips curving into a slow smile. “My aunt said you’d had trouble contacting me. My staff shouldn’t have put you off. I apologize for that.”

Beth had read that he was a heartbreaker. Now she knew why. If his gaze could render her speechless, that smile could set her on fire. Add in the unexpected touch of humility and the sincerity of his apology, and her first impression was pretty much smashed to bits. She’d never experienced a reaction to any man quite like this. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Would you...?” Exasperated by her inability to gather her thoughts, she swallowed hard, took a deep breath, then tried again. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Actually I’m on a tight schedule. I found myself near here and wanted to let you know that I haven’t been deliberately blowing off your calls. I thought I’d take a chance that now would be a good time to meet Tony.”

“Of course,” she said at once, knowing what such a visit would mean even if regular visiting hours were later in the day. This was one instance when she didn’t mind breaking the rules. “I’ll take you to his room. He’ll be thrilled.”

Jason cleared his throat. At his pointed look, Beth realized that her colleagues were hoping for an introduction to the local football legend. Amazed that grown men could be as enamored of Mack Carlton as her twelve-year-old patient was, she paused and made the introductions.

When it seemed that the doctors were about to go over every great play the man had ever made on the football field, she cut them off.

“As much as you guys would probably like to discuss football for the rest of the day, Mr. Carlton is here to see Tony,” she reminded them a bit curtly.

Mack Carlton gave her another of those smiles that could melt the polar ice cap. “Besides,” he said, “we’re probably boring Dr. Browning to tears.”

Now there was a loaded statement if ever she’d heard one. She didn’t dare admit to being bored and risk insulting him more than she had when he’d first arrived and overheard her. Nor was she inclined to lie. Instead she forced a smile. “You did say you had a tight schedule.”

His grin spread. “So I did. Lead the way, Doctor.”

Relieved to have something concrete to do, she set off briskly through the corridors to the unit where twelve-year-old Tony had spent far too much of his young life.

“Tell me about Tony,” Mack suggested as they walked.

“He’s twelve and he has leukemia,” Beth told him, fighting to keep any trace of emotion from her voice. It was the kind of story she hated to tell, especially when the battle wasn’t being won. “It’s the third time it’s come back. This time he’s not responding so well to the chemotherapy. We’d hoped to get him ready for a bone marrow transplant, but we don’t have the right donor marrow, and because of his difficulty with the chemo, I’m not so sure it would be feasible for him right now anyway.”

Mack listened intently to everything she was saying. “His prognosis?”

“Not good,” she said tersely.

“And you’re taking it personally,” he said quietly.

Beth promptly shook her head. “I know I can’t win every battle,” she said, as she had to the psychologist who’d expressed his concern about her state of mind earlier in the day. Few people knew just how personally she took a case like Tony’s. She was surprised that Mack Carlton had guessed it so easily.

“But you hate losing,” Mack said.