"I don't really think I want to..." she began politely.
He looked up, his dark eyes so intent that they stopped her protest before she could get it out of her mouth. "I want you to come," he said deliberately.
Of course he didn't. But her stubborn refusal irritated him. She was young and sweet and she had a lot to offer. Matt or Guy would be lucky to have such a woman find them attractive. She deserved a little happiness.
She misunderstood his determination, and she smiled warmly. "Really?" she asked breathlessly.
He turned away from that bright-eyed surprise. "Sure."
"Well, I guess I could."
"You'll need a dress," he continued, toying with a sheet of paper on the desk. "Something pretty and formal."
"I'll...I'll have to buy one," she faltered.
"And you could have your hair done."
She touched the bun defensively. "Cut it?"
"No!" He caught himself before he sounded even more of a fool. "I meant, you could have it put in one of those complicated styles. Cut it?" He looked absolutely shocked. "It would be a crime to cut hair like that." His eyes reluctantly slid over it, confined as usual in a huge bun behind her nape. "It must fall all the way to your waist when it's down."
She smiled self-consciously. "A little farther than that," she confided. "I don't ever wear it down anymore."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "My father said I looked like 'Alice in Wonderland.'"
"Bull," he muttered.
"Anyway, it gets in my way when I'm working."
"You could braid it," he suggested.
She laughed. "I can't do it myself."
He had to bite his tongue to keep from offering to help. For a long time now, he'd wondered how Kitty's hair would look when it was loosened. It was a lovely dark shade of brown. She had just a faintly olive complexion and those soft green eyes dominated her delicate oval face. Despite the glasses she insisted on wearing instead of contact lenses, she was very attractive. Her figure was as good as any he'd ever seen. If only she took advantage of her assets and didn't downplay them so drastically. On the other hand, that might be a good thing. He could see himself trying to diagnose and treat illnesses with Kitty running around the office looking like a nymph.
"Never mind," he murmured. "Do what you like with it. But get a pretty dress to wear."
"Which one of them are you planning to throw me at?" she asked.
He straightened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Who's being sacrificed for me, Guy or Matt?" she persisted. "I gather that you and the Coltrains are determined to save me from spinsterhood?"
His face grew stern. "I thought, as they do, that you deserved a little fun. We aren't throwing you at anyone. We only want to...improve you."
"I see."
"Like hell you see!" he burst out, irritated by his own thoughts as well as her resistance to having people remodel her for her own good. "You can't see anything! You dress like a bag lady, you screw your hair up into those god-awful buns, you walk around in a permanent daze and then you probably wonder why men never come on to you!"
She wasn't just shocked; she was downright hurt. She hadn't thought he had such a low opinion of her. Apparently nothing about her appealed to him at all. She wasn't sure if he was genuinely trying to help her find a man, or if he had plans to marry her off so that he could get her out of his office for good.
She lowered her eyes to the floor, hiding rage and shock. "I didn't realize I had so little to offer."
"It isn't that," he grumbled. "You have plenty to offer, that's why I hate to see you waste it! You're very attractive, but you could be a lot more appealing if you just worked at it. Your father isn't around to chase away prospective suitors anymore, Kitty. You don't have to downplay your looks. It's all right to dress up and make the most of your assets."
She sighed angrily. "Okay," she said tightly. "I'll just do that little thing."
Her eyes sparkled like emeralds in a pale face. He hated what he'd said to her, but if it woke her up to the possibilities, it was for the best.
"Get something dark green," he said out of the blue. "Tight in the waist and low-cut. It will do wonders for those eyes. They're incredible," he added softly. "Like living emeralds."
Her heart jumped. "I beg your pardon?"
He cleared his throat and glanced quickly at his watch. "I have a meeting with the hospital board of directors in thirty minutes," he said abruptly. "We're going to try to convince them to hire a full-time physician for the emergency room so that the rest of us can have a little peace after hours."
"Good luck," she said, and meant it, because she knew how hard the local doctors had to work to keep that emergency room going.
"We'll need it. Indigent care is killing the budget."
"A lot of people can't get insurance," she reminded him, glad to be off the subject of her own physical shortcomings. "And some people can't afford it."
He agreed. "It's a sad world in some ways, isn't it, Kitty?" he murmured. "Money shouldn't be the determining factor in a life or death situation. It isn't, here in Jacobsville, despite the budget. But hospitals can't operate on goodwill and hope."
"I know that." She shrugged. "I guess it's more complicated than it seems to a layperson."
He nodded. "It's complicated even to the professionals."
She moved toward her desk. "What about the ball?" he asked curtly. "Are you going with me?"
She didn't look at him, but at her computer. "I'll go," she said, but without real enthusiasm. She knew, even if he wasn't admitting it, that he was only taking her so that she could be offered up to Guy and Matt. It hurt her as nothing had in recent years. That, too, was disturbing.
"Good," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he went back to get his jacket and soon afterward, he left the office.
Kitty went shopping all by herself. Thinking that he'd made suggestions and shouldn't push his luck by offering to accompany her, Drew never said another word about the dress or the hairstyling.
She went all the way to Houston, in the end, to look for a dress, leaving very early on Saturday morning in her little car. The drive was nice, even though it was drizzling rain. Tree colors were so varied and pretty, hazes of green, hundreds of shades of it, in the trees that grew along streams and near houses in the distance. There were calves in the pastures, too, because it was that time of year as well. In summer, everything seemed to come alive on the earth. She thought about a young man's fancy turning to thoughts of love and laughed out loud. Drew was neither young nor interested in her, so she'd do well to ignore these strange feelings he engendered in her. Despite his collusion with the Coltrains, she had to remember that he wasn't interested in dolling her up for himself. He only wanted to sacrifice her to Guy or Matt.
Well, she thought, she might as well let him. If he thought she had potential, perhaps she did. All her life, she'd deferred to her father as far as the opposite sex was concerned. It hadn't ever occurred to her how alone her father was or how much he depended on her at home. Perhaps the thought of losing her was really terrifying to him and he had too much pride to admit it. That would explain his reluctance to let her get involved with men, or to think of marriage. He seemed very self-reliant and domineering, but underneath, he had many insecurities, all of which had grown much worse with the death of her mother.
She remembered her mother sometimes, marveling at the way the seemingly gentle and unassuming little woman had handled her father's moods and demands. Only someone close to them would have ever realized that Martha was her husband's strength, and when she died, he collapsed. From that day on, Kitty became his strength, and he depended on her more and more. Despite her frequent asthma attacks, he clung. When he had the stroke, the dependence became complete. Only then was his fear visible, because he no longer had the strength of will to conceal it. Kitty had learned to use her medicines conscientiously for her fath
er's sake. It was crucial that she keep well to look after him. Even so, there were times when she had to depend on kind co-workers to get her to the emergency room. She didn't even tell her father about the attacks that precipitated more and more medicine changes. Finally a preventative added to her regular regimen made trips to the emergency room almost a thing of the past.
Kitty became the colonel's substitute mother for the last few pitiful years of his proud life. But at the end, he had enough consciousness to call her mother's name, once, achingly...
She blinked away sudden tears. Her parents had been married for thirty years when Kitty's mother, Martha, had died. Perhaps that was how Drew had been after his Eve died, lost and alone and afraid. But he hadn't even a daughter to console him. No wonder he was impatient and ill-tempered and overworked. His job had probably been all that stood between him and madness just after his wife's untimely death.
Houston loomed ahead, its familiar skyline bringing back the present. She couldn't live in the past, although Drew seemed determined to do just that. She had to look toward the future. Marriage had seemed like an impossible dream, but now it might be accessible. If she worked at her appearance and tried to be outgoing, the possibilities were unlimited. Her asthma was under tight control and she could look nice if she worked at it. Who knows, she might actually interest a man enough to turn his thoughts to marriage. It would be nice to have a home of her own, someone to share her spare time with, children.
She sighed. It was going to take a lot more than a new dress to inspire anyone to marry her. But they did say that fine feathers made fine birds. It was worth a try.
She looked through several stores before she came across a dress very much like the one Drew had described—dark green taffeta with a low neckline and short, puffy pale green chiffon sleeves. It was ankle-length and when she tried it on, she was astonished at the change it made. The cut emphasized her firm breasts and narrow waist subtly, and there was a wispy chiffon scarf that matched the sleeves to go over her hair. It was like something out of the forties, a glimpse of bygone elegance that took her breath. She couldn't really afford it, but she bought it anyway, and white satin pumps and a white satin evening bag to go with it.
The hairdresser's was next, where she had her exquisite locks trimmed but not altered in length. The beautician enthused over the length and texture of her hair and talked her into a wavy style much seen on television and in movies. She was hesitant, but hours later when the curlers were removed, she was shocked at the face that looked back at her, surrounded by exquisite flowing waves. She went right to the optometrist and got herself fitted for contact lenses. They would be in long before the ball. She was going to make it a night to remember.
Just for fun, Monday morning she put on a lacy white dress that she'd bought during a trip to San Antonio with a cousin three years before. It was a Spanish style that suited her dark hair and olive skin, with lace and soft off-white embroidery around the flounced top and the long skirt.
She wore high heels and stockings with it, and wore her hair down for the first time ever. It was a dressy getup to go to work in, but she felt like a new woman. And after all, there was no time like the present to try out her new look on her boss.
She stood in front of her full-length mirror and marveled at what was reflected back. Even with her wire-framed glasses, she looked nice. She'd taken pains with her makeup and the new hairstyle made her feel very feminine.
As she gathered her purse and lacy shawl, she wondered what her boss was going to think of it.
She'd prepared herself for every sort of reaction, from mild surprise to indifference. What she got was a total surprise.
He was in his office when she arrived, engrossed in a patient's file. He hadn't shaved, an indication in itself that he'd been up either all night or since very early that morning without a chance to go home.
He didn't even look up at first. He heard her footsteps as she tapped on the door.
"Bring me a cup of coffee," he murmured. "Please," he added, still without looking up.
Vaguely disappointed that he hadn't taken time to even glance at her, Kitty went to the small kitchen and made a pot of coffee. She put a cup and saucer and napkin, a spoon and the sugar and cream holders on a tray and as an afterthought, added some almond cookies. He wouldn't eat breakfast, she knew that from Nurse Turner, but he was bound to feel a little hungry if he'd been up all night.
She edged in the door and put the tray on one of the retractable leaves of his oak desk.
"Thanks," he muttered, still absorbed in his file. Then he caught a glimpse of something long and flowing and looked up.
Kitty thought that, as long as she lived, she would never forget those few seconds.
He actually dropped the file. His black, shocked eyes went from her crown down her body to the exquisite, endless small curls that plunged down her slender figure all the way past her waist.
"Good God," he breathed, and it sounded reverent.
His unblinking intensity made her self-conscious. "You mentioned getting it styled..." she faltered.
He got up from the desk, oblivious to the notes, and moved to stand just in front of her. Like a sleepwalker, like a man possessed, his hands gathered up her long, silky hair and tested its softness as he searched her eyes. His lips made a thin line in the fraught silence of the office, and the contraction of his fingers began to be a little painful.
His closeness was affecting her. Her heartbeat against the flounced bodice was now noticeable, and her lips had parted under the force of her breath.
His eyes fell to them and held there for an eternity as his hands tugged and he moved closer, all in the same breath, until his legs were touching hers.
"You smell like a hundred varieties of roses," he whispered, breathing in the perfume that clung to her. "I wonder...if you taste of them?"
Almost in a trance, he started to bend to her while the silence in the office intensified.
Then, as his lips hovered just above hers, so that she could almost taste them, the front door suddenly opened and closed. Nurse Turner had arrived.
Drew released her at once, and his eyes blazed. "Go home and put on something appropriate for an office," he snapped, unbearably outraged by her appearance and his unexpected reaction to it. "Right now, Miss Carson! I'm not running an escort service here!"
The bite in his deep voice was painful. She couldn't understand the sudden rage, as if the sight of her offended him. Was she dressed like some sort of call girl?
"And do something about that damned mane of hair!" he added furiously.
She stared at him with wounded eyes. She'd felt so wonderful when she left her apartment, and now she felt dirty and naked. Without another word, she went out the door and past the stunned nurse.
"Well, look at you!" Nurse Turner exclaimed. "Kitty, you're gorgeous!"
"No, I'm not," Kitty said through building anger and tears, grabbing her shawl and purse. "I look like a call girl. I've got to go home and change my clothes and do something about my awful hair. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She went out the door, her first thought that she was going to grab the nearest pair of scissors and cut her hair to the skull!
Chapter 4
Drew could barely think. He'd been at the hospital until dawn with a small patient who was going to live despite the odds against him from a burst appendix and peritonitis. Now he'd been cruel to Kitty, whose only crime was to look like a ministering angel in white. The sight of her had hurt him, taunted him, reminded him all too blatantly of Eve in a similar dress the evening he'd asked her to marry him. Eve had blond hair, not brunette, but hers had been long and she'd worn it similarly to that beautiful curling mass that Kitty had entered his office displaying. The thought occurred to him at once that Kitty would be on her way home now in tears, thanks to his unreasonable anger, and probably the first thing she'd do was look for scissors...
It horrified h
im beyond all rationality to imagine that Kitty would butcher her hair. He got up from his desk, barely able to reason from lack of sleep, and rushed out the door.
“I’ll be back. An emergency," he murmured to Nurse Turner on his way out.
It was thankfully too early for patients. In fact, he was due at the hospital to make rounds, but this couldn't wait. He got into his Mercedes and burned rubber getting to Kitty's apartment house.
He walked right in behind a young woman with a key who'd just entered it.
"You can't..." she blurted.
"The hell I can't," he muttered, going up the steps in twos as he rushed to stop Kitty from what he knew she was going to do.
The pounding on the apartment door was loud and violent. Kitty glared at it from her bedroom, but if she didn't stop it, the other tenants were going to be furious. Some of them worked nights.
She went to the front door and looked through the keyhole, knowing before she did who was going to be standing there.
"Go away!" she raged.
"No. Open the door."
He looked as if he planned to spend the day on her doorstep. She thought for a minute and finally decided that it would be easier to lay a skillet across his thick skull if he were inside the apartment, so she opened the door.
He came in and closed the door, breathless from his rushed trip over here, and stared at her. She was wearing a bathrobe instead of the dress. She had a pair of scissors in her right hand, and apparently he'd been in the veritable nick of time. She was flushed. Her eyes were red from crying. Tracks of tears were visible on her cheeks. Even tangled, her hair was glorious.
He reached down and took the scissors out of her hand. "Not to get even with me," he said quietly. "Not even if I deserve it. It would be a crime to cut it, Kitty. It's beautiful."
She glared at him with trembling lips.
He tossed the scissors onto the table and pulled her into his arms with a heavy sigh, wrapping her up against him. Odd how familiar it felt, how comfortable...how exciting.
His face nuzzled that thick mane of hair and found its way under it, to her neck, to her soft throat. His mouth pressed there, gently at first and then hungrily. His arms contracted. He bent and lifted her in the instant that his mouth searched for and found hers.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 169