DESTINED AFFECTION

SEVENTEEN

Attorneys, Lauren thought. Why is it impossible for them to say anything using simple words and sentences of less than two paragraphs? God.

Her head ached and her stomach roiled queasily. The meeting with Administration had been more difficult than she 'd anticipated. Discussing Camila in her absence, dissecting her medical condition and quantifying her liability risk as if she were no more than a hypothetical problem to be analyzed, had left Laure  feeling disloyal and self-serving. Camila was so much more than just a "new hire" who presented a thorny dilemma for risk-management. She was a talented surgeon with the noblest of intentions who was doing her best under difficult circumstances, and she didn't deserve to have her career threatened because everyone in medicine was running scared of the word lawsuit.

And I'm one of them. What's happened to me? When did I become so afraid of doing the right thing?

Disgusted with herself, Lauren walked back to the emergency room, fighting the overwhelming urge to see Camila. She 'd thought of little else for two days. In between dealing with the responsibilities of work and family, her mind had been consumed with her. It had become practically impossible for her to distinguish between what she ought to do as an administrator and what she wanted to do as a friend.

Friends. That's what I told her we were. I certainly haven't acted like much of one. And she never once complained or tried to use our..relationship to her advantage.

Lauren glanced at her watch.

5:45. They're probably still at the soccer field.

She hunted down Cara Delevingne, one of the ER attendings. "I need to take off early, Cara. Is everything under control here?"

The sandy-haired, freckle-faced woman gave an unconcerned shrug. "Is it ever?"

"Sorry." Lauren grinned. "Wrong choice of words. Can you handle things?"

"Sure. It's dinnertime." She pointed to the To Be Seen rack, which held only three new charts. "You know we won't see the heavy nighttime action until after eight. By then the swing shift will be in, and we'll have plenty of people. Go ahead. We're good here."

"Thanks." Lauren's spirits lifted immediately. As she turned and headed for the exit, she promised, "I'll owe you a couple of hours for this."

"Don't worry," she called after her. "I'll collect the next time my wife wants me to show up for some after-school kids' thing."

Since it was Ally's day off, Lauren had driven her own car to work, and she was on the road in five minutes and pulling into a parking space adjacent to the playing fields in ten. Perrie's sturdy form, running along the sideline, gesticulating to the young players, was easily discernible. Camila, recognizable even from a distance in gym shorts and a T-shirt, worked with a small group of children who were lined up in two facing rows doing drills. Lauren sat behind the wheel, observing Camila demonstrate a passing technique, running agilely as she manipulated the ball with her feet. Watching her, Lauren got the same impression of confidence, skill, and natural ability that she'd seen Canila display during surgery.

The children, one of whom was Kyle, mimicked Camila's every move like a line of baby ducks. Lauren smiled, unable to look anywhere but at the charismatic woman who seemed to have no idea of her own allure.

Camila Cabello, Do you do everything so naturally, as if you were born knowing how? The Pied Piper, indeed.

Five minutes passed while she debated the wisdom of her decision to come. Now that she really thought about it, it hardly seemed suitable to track Camila down personally during non-work hours to discuss business. It would probably be more appropriate-not to mention more professional—to telephone Camila either that evening or the next morning to set up an appointment. Lauren gripped the key that was still in the ignition but stopped before starting the engine.