Driven to be Loved

by Pat Simmons

  He picked up the TV remote and pointed it at the flat-screen mounted to the wall. Another rerun of Castle was ending, and then KMMD-TV news teased its headlines. The microwave beeped at the same time Adrian blinked. Reporter Shae Maxwell’s face flashed on the screen. His jaw dropped at the same time his microwave alerted him again that his food wouldn’t stay hot forever.

  The resemblance between Shae Maxwell and Dr. Carmen was undeniable. It was like seeing double. Adrian recalled when the news anchor had married Cardinals outfielder Rahn Maxwell. They were considered a local celebrity couple.

  Now, what was her maiden name? After a few minutes, his memory came through for him. “Carmen!” He snapped his fingers. The two were definitely related, if not twins.

  Adrian didn’t know the details of the story Shae Maxwell was covering right now, only that a child was involved. Immediately, he wondered if Dr. Carmen was in the emergency room.

  Keeping his eyes on the screen, he got up and walked backward into the kitchen, grabbed his plate from the microwave, and returned to the sofa. He chewed and swallowed without savoring his dinner.

  This changed everything. It was no longer about a personal apology but possible business connections. Adrian had clients who played football for the St. Louis Rams and hockey for the St. Louis Blues, but he had yet to introduce himself to the right person within the Cardinals’ camp. In his line of work, image was everything. Clients drove luxury vehicles to show their status in society or to give an impression of wealth. Now, he had to get Dr. Carmen had to accept his apology.

  Adrian reached for the phone and pulled up Dolan’s number and touched the screen.

  He answered with a yawn on the first ring. “I appreciate your keeping me in the loop with your bonuses, but not at almost eleven at night.”

  “You won't believe who my crying doctor is related to,” Adrian told him. “Try to guess.”

  “I have no idea,” Dolan said dryly.

  “Shae Maxwell from KMMD.”

  Dolan let out a slow whistle, suddenly sounded alert. “That sister is gorgeous. I had a crush on her until Rahn took her off the market. You mean to say you couldn’t see the resemblance when you met the doctor? Maybe it’s her sister.”

  “Probably, but no, I didn’t.” Adrian was a little irritated with himself for that oversight, too. “She had her sunglasses on for most of our conversation, and when she did remove them—briefly—her eyes and face were red.”

  “Okay,” Dolan said, with another loud yawn that made his ear pop. “Now that you’ve seen the error of your ways, what do you plan to do about it?”

  “Restore my good name.”

  “That’s it?” He chuckled. “If she looks like Shae Maxwell, how can you not be interested in her on a personal level?”

  “Maybe later,” Adrian said offhandedly. “First, I’ve got to do damage control.”

  “You snooze, you lose, buddy,” Dolan said before signing off.

  After a few minutes, Adrian headed upstairs for bed. Maybe he had been on a dating sabbatical for too long, but now was not the time to start something. Not when he had so little of himself to invest in a relationship.

  Plus, unlike Dolan, Adrian didn’t believe in instant attraction. When it came to women, he liked to be observant and read a lady’s body language. See if she was the real deal by what she said and did. How could any man know those things in the blink of an eye?

  Relationships took time, which was exactly what his previous dates had done—put him on a timer. Adrian Cole could not be placed in a box.

  He wanted a soul mate, someone who had been set aside just for him. Now, where was that woman? That was his last thought before he climbed under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

  The following morning, Adrian woke up debating whether he should reach out to Shae Maxwell. His excuse, which was the truth, was to make sure her sister had received the flowers and his apology.

  Between meeting with potential clients and following up on referrals, Adrian didn’t have any downtime until late that afternoon. In his office, he looked up the number for Channel 7. His heart pounded as he phoned the newsroom and waited for his call to be transferred.

  “This is Shae Maxwell.”

  Having expected to be directed to her voice mail, Adrian was momentarily speechless. “H-hi, Mrs. Maxwell,” he stammered. He couldn’t say he was a fan, because he seldom watched the news; when he did, he jumped from station to station. “My name is Adrian Cole, and I’ve been trying to reach Dr. Brecee Carmen—”

  “Hmm, so you’re the jerk who gave my sister a hard time.”

  Whoa. Adrian wasn’t expecting the pit bull reception. He briefly moved the phone away from his ear, but he could still hear her chewing him out, using words like “disrespectful,” “unkind,” and “insensitive.”

  Adrian cleared his throat, preparing to do more damage control. “Mrs. Maxwell, your sister was distraught, and I was genuinely concerned. In no way was I trying to be cruel.”

  “So, the flowers were your way of making up for your rudeness?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “Well, don’t expect a return call. My sister is a dedicated doctor who saves children’s lives every day. She had a particularly stressful week, with several patients who didn’t recover from their injuries, and she was exhausted.”

  Adrian dropped his head, feeling like the jerk he’d been labeled as. “I'm so sorry to hear that, and sorry I bothered you, Mrs. Maxwell. Please let Dr. Carmen know that I apologize for my insensitivity.” He disconnected the call and exhaled. After two for two, he was done. Those sisters were nutcases.

  Brecee couldn’t believe what her sister was telling her. “Adrian Cole called you?” She had just gotten home from the hospital. Her day had been uneventful—broken limbs, some scrapes, and a few bruises, but nothing that would require surgery. Two ambulances had arrived just as her shift was ending, though.

  “Yes,” Shae said, “and after I got through chewing him out for messing with my sister, I felt so bad, I checked the caller ID, then sent him flowers with a note of apology.”

  Some things never change, Brecee thought. Shae knew how to give someone a piece of her mind without crossing the “sin” line. And whenever she tried to take on the tough-girl persona, she always felt bad afterward.

  Brecee was trying to reach a point in her spiritual walk where she would no longer say the first thing that came to mind.

  “Thanks for defending me, Sis. But if Mr. Cole was really interested in finding out if I received the flowers, he could have called the hospital. How did he put us together, anyway?”

  “Duh,” Shae said. “Everyone thinks that we look alike. Remember how Dad used to call us twins?”

  “Yep. Last time he said that was fifteen years ago.” Brecee sighed. “I still really miss him.”

  “Me, too,” Shae muttered.

  Brecee was beginning to wonder if this mystery man had had an ulterior motive for contacting her sister. Some of the stations viewers wanted to connect with Shae, Rahn or both for business purposes or personal reasons.

  “Anyway, the flowers are truly lovely,” she said. “I finally brought them home tonight. I meant to call him yesterday to thank him, but it was a horrific afternoon.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Shae said with a sigh. “I covered the child abuse story, remember?”

  Somehow, the four Carmen sisters had chosen careers that tied them to children: Stacy was a teacher, shaping young minds; Shari was dogmatic when she had to defend teenagers of criminal accusations; Shae had won Emmy awards for her news stories, involving children; and Brecee’s passion was to try to fix whatever was broken or help a child recover whenever he was sick.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me, Big Sis.” Brecee smiled.

  “Well, I thought I would let you know,” Shae told her. “You can decide if you think his determination is sweet or suspicious. You did say he was kind of cute—”

  “No 'kind of’ about it,” Brecee
said, picturing his face. “He was definitely fine.”

  “Really? Well, if you think it's harassment, pick your poison: Shari with a lawsuit or Rahn settling things out of court.” Shae paused, and Brecee could hear the blare of a police scanner in the background. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m being summoned to cover a house fire. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  As Brecee made herself dinner and then enjoyed a long bath, she couldn’t stop thinking about Adrian. Why had he called her sister? Shaking her head, she concluded that the man was odd.

  Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with a text message from her sister Stacy: You know, this never would have happened if you had called the man when you got the flowers and told him thank you.

  Brecee laughed at her oldest sister’s bossiness. How had Shae managed to find time to tattle on her while covering a house fire?

  With three sisters, there were never any secrets. Growing up, that had kept sibling rivalry to a minimum. Now, with all four of them in their thirties, Brecee found it annoying. Stacy, Shari, and Shae believed that her bark would scare all the men away. What a silly notion, considering she did go on dates from time to time.

  Besides, even with all the noise she made, she didn’t bite. She just wanted the Lord’s stamp of approval on the right man to marry and have children with. Despite her professional aspirations, she would be happy to switch roles to a stay-at-home mom, like many of her former female colleagues had done.

  Our sister has a big mouth, Brecee texted back. Let me know what happens after you talk to him.

  “Right,” she griped, rolling her eyes. She used the microphone to dictate her next text as she paced across her bedroom: “Stacy, the man apologized, and all is well between us.”

  A few minutes later, Stacy called, with Shari on the line.

  “Okay,” was Stacy’s greeting. “For the romantic in me, call him. Who knows if the chance meeting was part of God’s plan for you?”

  “I’m not feeling what you’re feeling,” Brecee argued. “What man laughs at a woman in distress? That tells me he doesn’t respect women.”

  “Flowers tell me he knows when he has messed up,” Stacy countered.

  “The breakfast invitation sounds worth a second chance,” Shari added.

  Shari’s mention of a second chance made Brecee think of the one God had given Shari and Garrett. Brecee was still amazed by their testimony.

  Regardless of the pros her sisters raised, Brecee had her cons about Adrian, and she’d never been one to back down. “Well, since Shae has a big mouth to tell you both about the phone call, I hope she tells Rahn that a strange man called her, because you know he doesn’t play when it comes to his wife!”

  All three sisters chuckled.

  “Does Shae still have bodyguards?” Stacy asked.

  “Is Rahn still her husband? Do you have to ask?” Brecee groaned. “Girl, yes. From time to time, we see them when they want to be seen. At least when they come to church, they’re hearing the Word. Definitely, when we’re shopping. I wish one of them had been tailing me when I was stopped by the police. Maybe he could’ve intercepted that ticket.”

  That brought the discussion back to Adrian Cole, and no matter how much Brecee protested, she was outnumbered.

  “Okay, it’s time for a vote,” Stacy stated.

  Voting was the way the Carmen sisters put an end to a discussion. They’d adopted the method when Stacy had started dating, and ever since then, whenever the conversation centered on a man, there were no secrets. Each held the other accountable to stay pure until marriage.

  “Shae voted yes, by the way,” Stacy said.

  Twisting her lips, Brecee exhaled. “Figures.”

  “And my vote is, yes, you should return the man’s call,” Stacy added. “Shari?”

  “Yes,” Shari said. “This man might be part of God’s plans for you.”

  Brecee rolled her eyes. “I think all three of you are blowing this out of proportion, but I’ll make the call tomorrow before my shift.”

  “Uh-uh,” Stacy said. “It’s not even ten o’clock. Call now, and leave a message, if need be,” she ordered her. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Love you,” she and Shari both said in singsong before disconnecting.

  Brecee sat on her bed and stared at her phone. With her sisters’ prompting, her interest was suddenly piqued to know Adrian's story. As far as meeting for breakfast, however, she had a busy week ahead. There was a one-day seminar on pediatric trauma she had to attend at the university, and she was way overdue for an oil change. She also had an early-morning hair appointment on Friday, and nothing got in the way of that.

  She figured she might as well get this call over with. She could thank him without sharing breakfast. Brecee retrieved the card with his number from her purse and called him. She was surprised when he answered right away.

  “Mr. Cole? It’s Dr. Carmen.”

  “Please, call me Adrian.” His voice sounded pleasant and nice. It made her smile. “You’re calling either to chew me out, too, or to thank me for the flowers. Which is it?”

  Already, the man was rubbing her the wrong way. But she could be just as direct. “Both. It was rude of me not to call you yesterday for the flowers.

  They are beautiful.” She paused, recalling the many compliments she’d received from the staff and a few patients’ parents. “However, because of my busy schedule this week, I'm sorry that I must decline your invitation for a breakfast date.”

  “You’re welcome for the flowers,” he said. “We could do lunch or dinner, instead, and there is always next week.”

  This man was really not letting up, but she wasn’t finished. “The flowers were more than sufficient to convey your apology. But I do have a problem with your calling my sister. Was it really that serious?”

  “Dr. Carmen, although I would love to engage in more friendly banter, I have a paper that is due at midnight.”

  “Is that your way of avoiding an answer?” she pressed him as she flopped back on her bed.

  “Once I made the connection between you two, I called her in hopes that she would speak to you on my behalf and get you to talk to me. Unfortunately, I didn’t expect to hear from you at this hour. So, please forgive me if I seem rude, but I really do need to finish this assignment.”

  Why did she feel so disappointed? She had questions for him—what school he attended, his course of study, where he worked, and so on. Stacy would be crushed to learn that she hadn’t gotten answers. And even more so that this man evidently wasn’t interested in her.

  “I understand,” Brecee said. “I have a busy day ahead of me, anyway. I need to get up extra early to allow time for an oil change before heading to the hospital.”

  “Wait! If you bring your Lexus to Broadway Motors in Ladue first thing in the morning, I can get you in and out.”

  She lifted an eyebrow as if he could see her. “So, you have connections, do you?”

  “I work there. I’m a transportation problem solver.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly, repeating the title in her head. “I’m sorry, but what does that occupation entail, exactly?”

  “I build relationships—business and otherwise. If a person is in need of transportation, Broadway Motors has a vehicle to fit any budget.”

  A car salesman? Brecee wanted to laugh out loud at him, just like he had done to her, but she didn’t believe in tit for tat. There was no way for him to have known she’d had a rough week. “Ah, so it’s a business relationship you’re trying to build?”

  “Both,” he said. “I’ll have breakfast waiting for you. Is eight a.m. okay?” Just to be difficult, Brecee countered, “Seven thirty.”

  “Done. See you then.” He disconnected the call.

  What have I gotten myself into? she wondered.

  Brecee knew nothing about this man, except that he had exquisite taste in flowers.

  She looked forward to tomorrow, so she could find out more.
<
br />   Chapter Five

  S

  tartled awake by the alarm trumpeting in his ear, Adrian sat up in bed and blinked to bring his surroundings into focus. Then he remembered what day it was, and what he had been doing up past midnight.

  He would lose ten points for submitting his paper after the deadline— no excuses were acceptable, not even blaming Dr. Carmen for invading his thoughts after their brief conversation last night. However, he would be fine. Adrian worked hard and studied harder.

  Begrudgingly, he rolled out of bed and dropped to the floor for seventy- five push-ups, then hit the shower.

  As he dressed meticulously in a dark fitted suit and the tie that always received rave compliments, Dr. Carmen continued to occupy his mind. He was getting a second chance with her, and he was determined to make a good impression this time. Whether it would result in business or pleasure, Adrian wanted to be on top of his game, even if he’d gotten only four and a half hours of sleep. Spring break couldn’t come soon enough.

  Satisfied with his appearance, he left his condo, got behind the wheel of his Audi, and drove toward the ramp for I-270 southbound. He grimaced at the heavy traffic and checked the time on his dashboard. It wouldn’t look good for him to be late.

  After inching along for a while, he finally reached the exit for Ladue. He had twenty-two minutes and no time to spare to stop for breakfast.

  Approaching the dealership, Adrian eyed the service area. There was no sign of Dr. Carmen’s car, so he continued on to the plaza where St. Louis Bread Company was located.

  He zipped into a parking spot and raced across the lot. A group of elderly ladies beat him to the door and flirted with him as he held it open for them. He kept a smile in place as he counted six of them. Once inside, he sidestepped the group and stood at the counter, only to stare at the menu board.

  Now what? Adrian had no idea whether Dr. Carmen drank regular or decaf, lattes or cappuccinos. All he remembered was her nibbling on oatmeal cookies.