Bachelor Doctor. Barbara Boswell

four-inch frame remained dwarfed by Trey.

      “Don’t go nuclear, Sheely, it wasn’t a threat. It was simply a statement of fact. Nobody around here talks to me the way you do.”

      “Well, no wonder.” She folded her arms in front of her chest in classic defensive position. Just because she had a crush on him didn’t mean she would permit herself to be crushed by him.

      “You’re practically a god around here. Nobody can believe you actually chose to come to Pittsburgh when you could’ve gone to any hospital in the country. Needless to say, without exception, people speak reverently to you.”

      “It seems that Leo isn’t the only one on this team who overexaggerates.” Trey looked irked. “And maybe you can explain why Pittsburghers are forever apologizing for the city. Why do they feel the need to put it down, especially if a nonnative says something complimentary about the place? Which brings us to, Why wouldn’t I actually choose to come here, Sheely?”

      “Why would you choose Pittsburgh’s Tri-State Medical Center when you could’ve gone to Johns Hopkins or Mass General or Duke or places equally prestigious? Is that a rhetorical question or am I supposed to answer it?”

      “You see, you just did it again!” Trey exclaimed. “Another putdown of your hometown. What’s with you Pittsburghers?”

      “We don’t like bragging, so we don’t embellish. We simply state the facts—which is what I was doing,” retorted Callie. “You went to medical school at Duke and did your surgical residency at Johns Hopkins, then on to Mass General for your neurosurgery residency and fellowship. You could write your own ticket anywhere. Why would you come to—”

      “Don’t forget to mention my exclusive New England prep school and my undergraduate bioengineering degree from MIT, Sheely.”

      “Which enables you to custom design the surgical instruments that you—” Callie broke off and stared at him. “You were being ironically droll.”

      “And that makes you gape?”

      “More drollery?”

      “Ah, your jaw drops even farther.”

      “All right, I admit I’m stunned. For your to joke about your hallowed credentials is something like hearing a saint wisecracking about divinity.”

      “Sheely,” he paused and frowned. “Don’t put me on a pedestal.” She had the usual misconception about the blueness of his blood, Trey realized, and her next words confirmed it.

      “I don’t have to, you’re already up there. I expect you were born there—and you’re well aware of it, too.”

      A man like Trey Weldon, brilliant, handsome, successful—a man like that, who had it all, had to be aware of his status, his desirability. And not only neurosurgically speaking. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city—in the entire state of Pennsylvania, not to mention his own native state of Virginia!

      Callie herself had seen how women here at the hospital practically threw themselves at his feet. She and Leo and Quiana enjoyed countless jokes about that. At least, Leo and Quiana enjoyed the jokes. Callie’s laughter rang hollow in her own ears. Worse, she could only imagine how very sought-after Trey was in exalted social circles, far removed from the hospital grounds.

      She took another long look at his bare chest, and fury abruptly flared within her. “And we aren’t in a…a gym!” she snapped. “Put on your shirt. Please,” she added, because, after all, she was talking to her boss.

      Trey picked up the scrub shirt he’d dropped onto a chair and pulled it over his head, inside out. “I’m not following.” He gave an exasperated huff. “What on earth are we talking about now, Sheely?”

      Scowling, he ran his hand over his brown hair, a dark-chestnut shade, always cut short for practical and hygenic reasons.

      Callie caught herself wondering if his hair felt as thick and springy as it looked. It took a moment for her to remember what they’d been talking about. “We’re discussing your beyond-impeccable credentials,” she said edgily.

      Trey gave a wave of his hand, visibly impatient. “Let’s get back to the real subject at hand, Sheely.”

      Callie proceeded to describe in detail each of Scott Fritche’s minor but time-consuming mistakes. “It’s not an enormous deal, Trey, though Leo’s done his best to make you think it is. We’ve both watched other residents, with more experience than Scott Fritche, do far worse with no unfavorable results. So you see—”

      “What I see is that Arkis and Turner were right. You really did save Fritche’s ass in there, Sheely. Not to mention our poor patient’s cranium.” Trey folded his arms in front of his chest, but the gesture wasn’t a defensive one for him.

      Oh, yes, he was infinitely gifted in the body language of intimidation. However, Callie wasn’t intimidated. Instead, observing the way his muscles rippled when he moved his arms, studying the breadth of his shoulders, she was…aroused.

      She was practically ogling him! Callie caught herself and quickly averted her gaze, fixing it on the poster tacked up on the wall beyond him.

      It was an advertisement for the Hospital Auxiliary’s Annual Springtime Ball, a popular fund-raiser held in early April, when the region’s weather was still more like winter than spring, despite the calendar.

      Unlike those charity balls sponsored by exclusive women’s clubs, where the price of admission was astronomically high, thus limiting the guests to the social elite, the Tri-State Hospital’s auxiliary set aside a large block of tickets at lower prices, affordable to the hospital staff.

      Everybody from student nurses to interns and residents, from the hospital administrators and lordly attending physicians to various corporate benefactors, politicos and the local pillars of society, attended the Springtime Ball. Somehow, the eclectic mix worked. Each year the ball topped the previous one’s record for ticket sales and attendance.

      Callie had gone every year since nursing school. Often with Jimmy, sometimes with other escorts, always friends. This year she’d made no plans to attend. She couldn’t seem to work up any enthusiasm for going.

      Her eyes darted to Trey. He was glaring at her.

      “Sheely, if it isn’t too much trouble, could you stop drifting off and at least make a pretense of staying on topic? That would be Scott Fritche who endangered my patient in the OR. Remember?”

      Callie’s eyes, dark as onyx, grew round as saucers. “The patient wasn’t endangered, honestly.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and took a deep breath. “I was right there, Trey, I knew what to do. Of course, I would’ve called for you the second before anything could have gone wrong.”

      Trey straightened, looking even taller to her. “You know I expect my team to be like cogs in a perfectly run machine, Sheely. We simply can’t afford any mistakes and we can’t succumb to—”

      “I know. And woe to the cog that slips, even slightly. Leo and Quiana and I—”

      “This isn’t about you three, I know how good you are. You’re the best in the area. I watched you for six months before handpicking you myself for my team. But Fritche is another story entirely. If he’s no good, we’ve got to get him out of the neurosurgery program sooner rather than later, before he does irreparable harm.”

      “Trey, before we go any further with this, maybe you should know that Leo holds a personal grudge against Scott Fritche. I don’t think I’d be exaggerating to say that if Leo could hurt Scott, he would. Oh, not physically. But he’d certainly settle for doing damage to Scott’s career.”

      “Why?”

      “Because Scott Fritche dated and then dumped Leo’s cousin Melina. She’s a student nurse here at the med center and was heartbroken when—”

      “Sheely, this is not an episode of General Hospital.