Page 5 of Look on the Bright Side

“Dr.Smith!”

Lark jerked at the sound of her name. “Yes! I’m awake! I’m here! What do you need?” Ah. Right. Not at the hospital. She brought her napkin to her mouth. Positive for drooling. Crap.

Dr.Santini sat across from her, arms folded, face grim.

“Hi.” She tried to smile.

He said nothing. Just shifted his eyes to her martini glass and the half-eaten roll in her hand, the empty oyster shells sitting on a platter of ice.

“I ordered an appetizer,” she said.

“So I see.” He glanced at the menu, then raised his hand and beckoned a waiter. “Artisanal salad, hold the gouda, grilled salmon, steamed asparagus, garbanzo beans, no butter on anything.” He didn’t deign to make eye contact with the kid, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen.

“Um…none of that is on the menu,” the poor lad said.

“Just write it down and hand it to the chef. I’m known here.”

I’m known here.

“Do you want anything to drink?” the kid asked. “Our wine list—”

“Water.”

“Dieting?” Lark asked. She probably had chugged that drink too fast.

Dr.Satan stared at her with dead shark eyes. “Dr.Smith? Did you wish to have more food, or did you eat enough before I got here?”

He wasn’t universally despised for nothing. Lark sat up straighter. “You know, I would love some more food.” She turned to the terrified waiter. “What’s your favorite thing on the menu?”

Dr.Santini sighed.

“Um…the burger?” the kid said.

“Hm. That does look good.” Not expensive enough, however. “I think I’ll have the rib eye, please. Medium rare. Oh, and the smoked burrata. That sounds amazing. And a lovely big glass of cabernet, okay? And you know what? Bring me a Caesar salad, too, what the heck.” The boy scribbled furiously. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Brian.”

“Thank you, Brian.” She beamed at him, and his face reddened.

“Hurry up, Brian,” Dr.Santini said. “This is a business meeting.”

“Yes, sir. Um, Doctor, sir.” Brian scurried away.

“So,” Lark said. “A business meeting. Um…are you looking for help on something?”

“Please,” he said. “I wouldn’t ask a resident to get me a napkin, let alone help me with something medical.”

Lark blinked. You’re not at work. And he’s not your boss, Addie’s voice said in her head. He doesn’t get to push you around. “Why am I here, Dr.Santini? Other than to eat?”

“I’ll get to that.”

All right, then. At least she’d be fed, and fed very well. Brian, the sweetheart, slid her the glass of wine to her and melted away. She took a sip and stared at her dinner companion.

If he never opened his mouth and you were unaware of his personality, Dr.Santini would be considered very good looking. Indeed, almost every blissfully ignorant nurse or doctor got a jolt of appreciation when they first saw him, right before he crushed their souls. He had thick, wavy dark blond hair and blue eyes. Strong jaw, Cumberbatch-style cheekbones, not an ounce of fat on him (and after hearing him order, Lark could understand why). He had the unforgiving build of a Tour de France bicyclist—tall, thin and steely, like…like a scalpel. Yes. Great comparison. She bet he ran six miles a day. At least.

“I heard you were dropped by Oncology today,” he said.

She jerked a little, felt her face flush. “Technically, yes. But I’m hoping to get back in.”

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