Page 117 of Faking Forever
He’d been laughing at something his brother, Dr. Conrad Jenson, head of thoracic surgery at the same hospital Kenny worked at, was saying. Kenny had been absolutely dazzled and unable to look away from him.
He’d worn a beautifully tailored black tux, one hand thrust into his trouser pocket, the other clutching a flute of champagne. He’d been gesticulating with that hand, spilling some of the liquid in the process. He’d looked so damned animated, so alive and happy, and Kenny had been riveted.
She had frozen in her tracks and simply watched him, that golden, perfect, godlike creature.
Then the music had changed, going from a typical string quartet to a soulful, romantic ballad. The change had been so jarring, he’d stopped talking and looked upwards, as if expecting to find the source of the music somewhere in the heavens.
He’d looked in her direction, and his eyes had skimmed right over her. Kenny’s heart had sunk to the soles of her feet, but then he’d stilled, and those same beautiful eyes jerked back to hers…
—vivid, green, piercing?—
… and everything had stopped.
He’d thrust his glass into this brother’s chest, leaving the other man no option but to take it, and prowled intently toward her.
So lethal and graceful and predatory.
He’d stolen her breath.
Then he asked her to dance.
And nothing had ever been the same again.
“…ever go private?” Libby was asking her, and Kenny dragged herself out of the past to focus on the other woman’s question.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she said self-consciously.
If Libby thought it was odd that she wasn’t paying attention, she didn’t show it. She merely repeated her question.
“I was wondering if you’d ever consider private practice?”
“Uh…not really. I don’t need the money. And the public health system is already understaffed and underserved. I can make a real difference in people’s lives where I am right now.”
“Don’t a lot of doctors in the public sector burn out faster?” Libby asked with a concerned frown.
“Yes. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I took this break.”
“And talking about work probably doesn’t help,” Tina said pointedly and Libby winced.
“Sorry, I can get a little single-minded sometimes. I was just curious.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Kenny said, warming to the other woman even more. “Iama little burnt out. And I did allow work to dominate my life for way too long. But I always found it rewarding and meaningful. I just have to get better at putting my own needs first.”
She cleared her throat awkwardly.
“So, am I to take it that themenare cooking today?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, hell yeah,” Libby said vociferously. “I do not want to spend one of my only days off in the kitchen.”
Tina nodded her vehement agreement.
“Are they good cooks?”
“It took us a while to convince them that every Sunday couldn’t be a braai day,” Tina said with a laugh. “If they could get away with tossing steaks and boerewors on the grill every week, they’d be happy as Larry. So they’ve learned to…” She stopped and looked at Libby. “What was that word that Grey used?”
“Diversify,” Libby said with a laugh and Tina chuckled as well.
“Don’t worry, they won’t poison us,” Tina comforted, before adding a concerning disclaimer. “At least, not enough to kill us.”
