He sounded accusing, and he had every right to. Her shamed gaze traveled up to his grim countenance. “Not normally.”
His expression eased. “Then why’d you listen this time? You had me really worried.”
Her fingers flowed apart, and she reached out to the air between them. “I wish I hadn’t listened. It made me feel awful about what happened yesterday, and I didn’t want to feel that way about it. It’s just-nobody like you has ever shown an interest in me before. I’m not your type, and I couldn’t believe you were for real.”
He walked around the table toward her with a lazy stride and a slow smile. “Now how would you know what my type is? What about you? Do you have a type?”
The tip of her tongue crept between her teeth as she smiled back and her shoulders started to climb toward her ears again.
His smile widened into a grin as he reached her, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Everybody’s got some idea of what they want. What kind of guys have you dated?”
She considered making up a whole portfolio of hopeful, dashing young suitors, and a small snicker exploded out of her nose. As if she could pull that off. “Victor.”
He looked blank for a moment, then said, “You’re kidding. That’s it?”
She frowned uncertainly, and her cheeks heated. Was that a compliment? “Well, no. I really have been busy.”
He cocked his head. “Too busy to date? No pretty young lady should be too busy to date.”
“Oh, well, you see, there’s Tim, and our parents died when I was seventeen, and I was in school an awfully long time, and I—well—” She bit down on her tongue hard. Don’t tell him you’re a virgin, blockhead! “I…don’t care for the country club much.”
“All those crisp, clean boys in their tennis whites, courting their Buffys and their Tiffanys, and talking about which boards of directors their fathers sit on,” he said wryly. “No, I can’t see it. Mary?”
“Hunh?” She smiled up at him tentatively.
“Promise me something?” The creases at the sides of his mouth deepened as she nodded. “Be careful not to get too caught up in Victor’s point of view. I don’t think he’s looking out for your best interests right now. If you haven’t got anybody to talk to, my sister Cassie said this morning that she’s looking forward to your call. She’s a smart lady, and she doesn’t hesitate to call a fool a fool. Even me, when I’m acting like one. Which isn’t often, by the way,” he added with a twinkle.
She twinkled back delightedly, feeling not only warmed by his suggestion but pleased that Cassie had mentioned her again. Another thing she hadn’t had time for was making friends. Most of the young women her age that she’d met in college couldn’t identify with her parental-like concerns and life-style. She had a few friends at the hospital, but they were Victor’s friends, too.
“I’m looking forward to seeing her, too. I liked her.”
He ran a finger caressingly down the side of her cheek, and her stomach fluttered. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, but I’d like to take you out soon. When’s your next free evening, Dr. Mary?”
Not for ages and ages, she thought with sudden gloom. Saturday was her next evening off, but she’d promised to go to dinner with Victor and some of his friends. Oh, bother, they were supposed to be going to the damn country club, too. Victor liked the country club, she remembered with a brief chill. What did that say about their compatibility?
“Saturday,” she burst out. “I’m free Saturday.” The trapped feeling from last night finally loosened and fell away, and she beamed up at him. “What do you want to do?”
His face softened and he stepped closer to her. She caught the faintest, tantalizing whiff of his after-shave, and her muscles went wobbly. “Have you been to the fair yet?”
“I usually take Timmy,” she murmured huskily, “but this year I haven’t had time to.”
“Saturday’s the last night. Would you like to go?”
Guilt and alarm flashed in her eyes. He was going to offer to take Tim, too, now. And if he wasn’t, shouldn’t she say something? She couldn’t go and not take Tim. He’d never forgive her. “Yes, I love the fair. And maybe, would you mind, could we take Tim?”
“I was thinking of inviting Tim,” he said smiling, “on maybe a different night. Just him and me. Don’t you think he’d like that better than playing fifth wheel to us?”
“Oh, good Lord, yes. He’d love it. Are you sure it’s no trouble?” She searched his face closely.
“Of course not. I’d enjoy it, too, otherwise I wouldn’t have offered. I like Tim. I’ll talk to him about tomorrow, and why don’t I pick you up at six on Saturday?”
“That’d be wonderful.” The glow was back; she could feel it radiating off her face in waves.
Chance took her face between his hands, tilting it up carefully. His hazel eyes were warm. “Don’t get engaged in the meantime. Promise?”
“Promise,” she breathed.
He bent and placed his mouth lightly over hers. Her eyes closed and she swayed against him, feeling again that tremendous rush of heat. Her hands splayed across his chest. His lips stroked hers languidly, while his long fingers cradled her skull as if it were fine china.
After a long, pulsing moment he pulled back from her trembling lips. She wore the expression of a young woman dreaming.
“I’d better go,” he said hoarsely. “See you soon, sugar.”
He had already left the sun-room before she could get her eyes unglued. Dazed she stared around her, heard Tim in the distance whooping with joy, and she dragged out a chair to sit down with a bump.
Sugar. Her lips curved softly. He’d called her sugar.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARY had to go to work on Wednesday at 7:00 a.m. Her morning at the emergency room was filled with a patient allergic to bee stings who had gone into anaphylactic shock, a woman who had spilled boiling water on her hand, a boy who had stepped on a fish hook, and an elderly man suffering from sunstroke.
She was preoccupied during the few moments she had to herself with the memory of Chance from the day before. He had seemed so sincere, so genuine, that all her defenses had come down. Still, caution troubled her. Was he what he claimed to be, or was there some truth after all to what Victor had said about him? And what about Victor—had he been looking out for her best interests, or had he been prompted to say what he did out of jealousy?
Now that she had come to know him a little better, her instinct was to trust Chance, but still she knew almost nothing about him, and what she did know was only what she’d heard from him. Victor, on the other hand, was someone she’d known for more than two years, and she’d grown to trust his advice.
Where was the truth? She didn’t know, and she knew she couldn’t begin to sort it out on her own. That was one of the reasons why she found herself calling Cassie at lunchtime. The other woman was delighted to hear from her, and they arranged to meet for brunch the next day at Cassie’s place before Mary had to be back at work. She hung up after the conversation, pleased to have something to look forward to the next day.
Her feet had begun to hurt by two, and she was bogged down in the frenetic monotony of another endless day when Victor arrived at work. He came up beside her at the nurses’ station when she was busy making notes on her latest patient. He put a hand on her back and smiled down at her warmly.
“Hi, Mary. How’s your day gone?”
She straightened her shoulders with a sigh, pushed back her tawny bangs, and returned his smile. He looked sleek and fresh, but then he always managed to look classy, whereas she felt grubby and worn. “Oh, not bad, comparatively speaking. Mostly minor injuries so far today. You look nice. Have you had a good morning?”
“Yes, I played a few sets of tennis with Greg Aldrich. His wife says hello. They wanted to know when you and I could play doubles with them.” He grimaced, still smiling. “I told them we’d let them know.”
Mary withstood the temptation to make a face, as well. Vic
tor was like a swan on the tennis court, a real pleasure to watch, whereas she was a fuzzy duckling, flapping and squawking after the balls with little hope of sending them where they were supposed to go.
She wondered if Chance played tennis. It somehow didn’t seem like his type of game. What would he play for fun—pool?
That reminded her; she looked around quickly, but the E.R. was quiet. A woman was talking to Sandy at the front desk, and Julie was nearby making coffee. She lowered her voice. “By the way, about dinner on Saturday—I’m not going to be able to make it.”
Victor frowned, his good humor fading. “Why not—what’s happened?”
“Oh, something’s come up, that’s all.” She bent her telltale face back over her notes and frowned thoughtfully. She really hoped he wouldn’t press for details, because she didn’t know what she would say. She was such a bad liar and knew it, and the truth right now would only start a conversation she didn’t want to be having in front of Julie, or anybody else for that matter. Silently she urged him to shrug his shoulders and get on with other things.
“Something’s come up? But I wanted to—” He bit back whatever he was going to say, looked around, as well, and took her by the arm. “Come on, let’s go to the doctors’ lounge.”
“Oh, but…” Julie was watching them, bright-eyed with curiosity. Mary threw up her hands and went with Victor.
The comfortable, utilitarian lounge was empty. Mary wandered to the other end of the room as Victor closed the door and turned to her. He walked over slowly, smiling again, his dark eyes liquid.
He took her hands, rubbing his thumbs lightly across her palms. “Mary,” he said tenderly, “I was going to ask you on Saturday, but if you can’t make it, I’ll just have to ask now.”
She stared at his hands, at his face. Oh, Lord, she thought nervously, what now? He’d never acted like this at the hospital, and someone could walk in on them at any moment. “Victor, maybe we ought to have this—whatever this is—this conversation some other time, don’t you think?”
“But our schedules are so busy, and I can’t wait until next week.” He raised her hands and pressed his lips against her fingers. “I think it’s time we considered getting engaged.”
She squinted at him tiredly. Engaged. He looked and sounded so sure that she was going to be thrilled, and dutifully she waited a moment to see if that would happen. A week ago it might have happened. Shouldn’t she be feeling something right then, other than how sore her feet were? “Oh, Victor.”
For a brief moment his eyes narrowed, then he stepped closer to put his arms around her. “What’s the matter, darling—can it be that much of a shock? We’ve been dating for a long time, and we’re so compatible. We have similar careers, we understand each other, and you’ve got to know how much you mean to me. Don’t you think it’s time to make some formal plans?”
She bowed her head and fiddled with a button on his white coat, troubled. There it was, the possibility to get everything she had been yearning for yesterday. A husband, a home of her own and a family someday. Commitment, security, a life mate. She heard herself saying, “But Vic—do you love me?”
His arms tightened. “Of course I love you—that’s what I’ve been telling you. When I saw you hugging that man the other night, all I could think about was that you were mine, and he shouldn’t be touching you. I want to make it official—to let everyone know that you’re mine, and I’m yours. I mean, I certainly don’t want to see anyone else.” An edge crept into his voice. “Do you?”
She sagged and leaned her forehead against his chest. Now what do I say? she asked herself. I can’t tell him about the pickle jars, or the real reason I canceled Saturday. I can’t tell him that I can’t get engaged because I promised Chance I wouldn’t. Besides, I’m not sure I want the kind of life Victor does, and maybe that’s why I’m not feeling anything like what I think I should be feeling.
He had put a hand at the back of her neck and was massaging her muscles. “Mary?”
“I—this is such a surprise. I wasn’t expecting this. It’s such a wonderful offer, but—I need to think about this, Vic.” She looked up at him hopefully. “Give me some time?”
In the space of his hesitation, they heard his name called over the intercom. “Dammit,” he said absently.
“You’ve got to go.” She smoothed the coat over his chest. “Listen—give me the weekend to think about it, and we’ll talk soon. I promise. That’s not so much to ask—we’ve been careful every other step of the way.”
His name sounded again, and Victor conceded with a sigh. “All right, darling.” He bent and kissed her suddenly, hard. “I do love you.”
She stroked his hair gently. “I love you, too.”
Then he was gone to answer the summons, and left alone, Mary slapped a hand over her eyes. She was getting a first-class headache.
She did love him. She’d meant what she said. You don’t choose to share so much of your life with someone without growing to care for them deeply.
But did she love him enough?
Cassie’s bookstore, The Crystal Dragon, was located in an old restored house on Main Street near downtown. It was in an older, colorful neighborhood filled with small shops and residences, within sight of the lake. The lawns were dotted with oak and maple trees, and normally would be strewn with bright toys and bikes, but on Thursday the weather had turned chilly and a fine drizzle had started to fall. Mary had dressed accordingly, in faded jeans and a heather blue sweater, and before she entered the cluttered, spicy-smelling store, she patted the French braid that fell down her back to make sure it was still neat.
Cassie was wearing a green knit dress and a lot of sparkling jewelry. She greeted Mary with a bright smile, turned the Open sign to Closed and led her through the two spacious front rooms, which were the bookstore, back to a neat, well-appointed kitchen.
On the surface they didn’t have much in common. Mary’s life had been dedicated to Tim, school and medicine, whereas Cassie had left college to marry a career soldier, and had traveled all over the world. Upon the death of her husband seven years ago, she’d returned home to set up her own business. But however disparate their backgrounds, the warm rapport the two women had shared Monday was quickly re-established, and soon they were chatting over chicken crepes, salad and cheesecake like old friends.
Chance’s memory was ever present. Mary saw him in the turn of Cassie’s head, a gesture with her hand, the gentle affectionate way she had of calling her “sugar”.
“Want another piece of cheesecake?” Cassie asked.
“Oh, no thanks. I couldn’t eat another bite. Everything was delicious.”
“My father—Chance’s stepfather—is a chef. He and my mother run the Falcon Club. Do you know it?” Mary nodded. “He taught me everything I know about cooking. Didn’t manage to teach Chance how to do much more than boil water, though.” Cassie grinned. “As a teenager, my brother was into other things besides cooking.”
Mary stirred cream into her coffee and stared into the rich brown liquid, thinking to herself, here we go. “I’ll bet.” She took a deep breath and plunged. “I’ve heard he’s got something of a reputation.”
Cassie shifted in her chair and stroked one of her several cats, a calico that had come to settle in her lap. “Yeah, I’ve heard the gossip, too. It’s mostly based on conjecture and some things that happened twenty years ago. He used to be quite a rebel before he joined the army. This is a small town, and people’s opinions don’t change quickly. But even at his worst, Chance never really did anything that bad.”
Mary peered at her sideways. “He was in the army? Did he join right out of high school?”
Cassie smiled a little. “He didn’t finish high school. He joined at seventeen, lied about his age—that used to be easier to do—and got an equivalency while he was in. It was a brief stint—Chance never did like taking orders. But something about the experience seemed to have focused him, because he went to journalism school afte
rward and there was never any question what kind of reporting he wanted to do.” She smiled wryly. “Name any place in the world that’s been a war zone over the last ten years, and I’ll guarantee you Chance’s been there.”
Chance was a war correspondent. Mary fiddled with her spoon. She might have known. It fitted with her first impression of him as a dangerous, formidable man, and certainly explained why he traveled all over the world. Not a career academic at all.
“So—” she attempted to sound casual “—how old is he? He seems awfully young to have accomplished all that.” A plump white Persian leapt up on Mary’s knees, and she stroked its soft back gently.
“Unless he’s lied to me, he’s thirty-seven.” Cassie chuckled, and Mary did, too. “And I doubt he could’ve lied to our mom. He’s gotten all kinds of awards for his work. He seems to have a sixth sense for spotting trouble—apparently he can see the world as if it’s one big chessboard, and anticipate everybody’s moves. Don’t ever let him talk you into a chess game for money, by the way.” She rolled her eyes. Mary chuckled again, delighted at the wealth of information she was getting to feed her curiosity. “He took a summer teaching position to visit the family,” Cassie went on, “but we’re hoping to talk him into staying a while longer.”
The teaching position wasn’t permanent, then. He hadn’t mentioned that. But from what he’d said in the car when he drove me home, he sounds at least ready to think about settling down. “So,” Mary said offhandedly, as the cat stretched under her hand and purred, “does he date much?”
“You’ve been listening to those nasty rumors about married women,” Cassie observed shrewdly.
“No,” she said quickly, “no, oh, well—I’ve heard them. Yes. But hearing isn’t the same as listening. But it does make one wonder if one should be listening.” She winced. “If you know what I mean.”
“It’s all right. I know what you mean,” Cassie assured her with a smile. “He’s made some husbands jealous, and quite frankly left a few wives disappointed. That’s how the rumors got going, but it’s never been true. I’d know if it was—Chance and I don’t have any secrets between us. He’s one of my best friends.”
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