by Raye Morgan
“He’s so busy,” she said evasively. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“He doesn’t like giving interviews. He says that’s what he hired me for.”
“Doesn’t like interviews?” He looked at her, incredulous. “What are you talking about? He’s on television all the time.”
“Yes, but that’s different. That has nothing to do with him personally.”
That fit, all right. Sounded like a totally guilty man to him.
They reached the cafeteria and he held the door for her.
“Mmm, you smell good,” she murmured, skimming close to him as she passed.
“Me?” He was taken aback. “I’m not wearing any cologne or anything.”
“I know.” She smiled up at him, so close he was tempted to wrap his arms around her. “Clean male. The best scent there is.”
She turned to enter the cafeteria line, but he had to wait a moment, pretending to read the notices on the wall, before he could follow her. He’d never before known a woman who could turn him on in seconds. Maybe he ought to see if Dr. Richie had an antidote.
Abby had already started a tray and a cute little dark-haired nurse had come between them, so he picked up a tray for himself. The nurse turned and looked into his face and gave a sigh that could have been heard in the parking lot.
“Oh! Green eyes. I would die for a man with green eyes.”
Great. Another victim of Dr. Richie’s love potion.
“Not here, please,” Daniel told her curtly. “You’ll clutter up the food line.”
She laughed and leaned toward him like a tree in a strong wind. He could see Abby turning and noticing what was going on, so he flashed the little nurse a look. But she didn’t notice.
“You’re cute,” she said. “Can I sit with you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I already have a companion.” He nodded his head in Abby’s direction, and she smiled, giving the nurse a friendly little wave.
The nurse’s face fell. “Okay, then,” she said sadly. “Well, in case she flakes out on you, I’ll be at that table in the corner. I’ll be watching.” She smiled at him sunnily. “Every move.”
“Better not,” he advised sardonically. “You’ll make me nervous. I’m liable to drop my fork or something.”
She giggled. “If you drop a fork, I’ll swoop down and pick it up for you, Mr. Green Eyes.”
“Don’t bother,” he told her. “I think we’ll be able to handle the silverware.”
He took advantage of her momentary lack of attention to push past her and join Abby in time to pay for both of them. Abby gave him a look full of amusement but she didn’t say anything until they’d chosen their table and sat down, setting out on the table between them Abby’s bagel and cream cheese and Daniel’s toast and smoked salmon, along with their tea and lingonberry jam.
“My gosh, I didn’t realize you were such a babe magnet,” Abby said, laughing.
He shook his head, feeling exasperated. “It’s been like this all week.”
She nodded wisely, taking a bite from her bagel. “I’ll bet it’s been like this all your life.”
He decided to level with her. Why not? Maybe it was time they got some of their cards out on the table.
“You’d lose that bet. It’s just been this last week or so. And do you know why?”
Her eyes widened, chewing suspended. “No. Tell me.”
He looked around the room. “If you go and ask these people—the lovesick ones I mean—every one of them will have some connection to the clinic.”
She made a skeptical face. “How can you know that?”
He shrugged. “Try it.” He took a bite of his toast, generously loaded with pink salmon.
She stared at him, and, for just a moment, she looked uncertain. Then she shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You think some sort of love virus is going around and the clinic is the carrier?”
His gaze was steady and sure. “You got it.”
“That’s crazy.”
He shrugged again. “Call me a nut case.”
“I might just have to. I think you’re reading things into the fact that people who’ve been to the clinic are happier people and more likely to be friendly. That’s all.”
“It’s more than that. You haven’t noticed that it’s like a looney bin around here?”
“No.”
“Everyone is falling madly in love with the first person they meet up with in the morning.”
“You’re exaggerating.” She made a face at him. “Just because Dr. Richie’s lectures and other things at the clinic are giving people a feeling of well-being and giving them the confidence to express feelings they may have hidden for years—”
“It’s much more than that and you know it.”
“No, I don’t.”
His attention was diverted as he noticed a stocky, balding man heading toward their table with an intensity Daniel was beginning to recognize as common around the hospital. The man’s gaze was fixed lovingly on Abby.
“Look out,” Daniel warned in a low voice. “Male suspect at three o’clock and closing fast.”
“What are you talking about?” She glanced around and saw the man, then smiled briefly, putting down her teacup. “Hello, Dr. Porter.”
“Abby. Ah, Abby.” The smitten man took her hand between both of his and brought it to his lips. Abby looked startled.
“Well, I’m…glad to see you, too.”
Dr. Porter gazed at her with all the devotion of a lovesick cocker spaniel. “Abby, my dear, you don’t know how you’ve changed my life.”
“I have?” Abby looked as though she regretted whatever she’d done to bring on this salute.
“Yes. Since you got me involved at the clinic, I’m a changed person.” Dr. Porter glanced sideways at Daniel, seeming to notice him for the first time, but apparently the doctor decided to ignore him for the moment. “And, Abby, it’s all because of you.”
“Well, I’m so glad.”
“Look. I’ve already lost ten pounds.”
“Good for you.”
He glanced at Daniel again, frowning slightly, and seemed to decide he couldn’t ignore him any longer. “Uh, Abby, who is this man?” He motioned toward Daniel. “A mere colleague I hope? Not a significant other?”
Abby looked at Daniel. “Well, uh, this is…”
“Her fiancé,” Daniel said firmly, rising and sticking out his hand. “Daniel O’Callahan. Nice to meet you, Doctor.”
Abby’s jaw had dropped, so Daniel felt he’d better keep the doctor’s attention aimed his way for a moment or two more. “Yup, wedding in June and all that.”
“June?” Dr. Porter looked suspicious. “It’s August right now.”
“So it is. Well, we both believe in long engagements, don’t we, Abby darling?”
Abby had regained control of her jaw, but her eyes were big as saucers. “What?” she said breathlessly.
“Sweetie-pie? Better half? Demon lover?” He grinned at her. “You tell me which you like best.”
Dr. Porter drew back as though he’d been stung. From the look on his face, one would have to conclude he didn’t approve.
“Such a shame,” he muttered, nodding to the two of them before shuffling off toward a table full of nurses.
“You see what I mean?” Daniel told Abby. “He’s been to the clinic and caught the bug.”
She frowned. “Then why haven’t you caught it? And why haven’t I caught it?”
He winced at the last question, but answered the first. “I haven’t used any of the clinic products.”
Abby was staring at him and he had the distinct impression she was finally understanding what this was all about, even if she didn’t recognize the fact that she was tied up in it all. What was he going to say to her? How could he gently get her to look at her own changes, analyze them, see where they came from? And once he did that, was she going to hate him? He knew how she was goin
g to feel once she realized he was a cop, investigating her precious clinic—and her precious Dr. Richie. And he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Abby pushed her food away, but before she could launch into whatever lecture she was preparing in her head, Wilbur Mason came in and approached their table. The man had lost his usual sunny composure. He looked as though he’d just lost his best friend as well.
“What is it, Wilbur?” Daniel asked. “You’d better sit down.”
He did so, heavily, and leaned both elbows on the tabletop. “Ella won’t speak to me,” he said, tragedy etching lines in his face. “She won’t even let me in her shop.”
Daniel glanced at Abby. Ella often acted annoyed with Wilbur, but Daniel had had the impression she secretly liked the attention.
“Did you try the serenade idea yet?” he asked.
“No.” Wilbur brightened a bit. “But I did find a great guitar at the pawn shop.”
“Good. Start practicing and get yourself a rose bush.”
Wilbur sat a little taller. “That’s exactly what I’m planning to do.” Color began returning to his cheeks. “It may take me a while.” He frowned doubtfully and looked at Daniel. “Do you think I’ve got enough time?”
“Of course you do. You’ve got forever, in your own terms.” Daniel had no idea what that meant, but it sounded good, and all he wanted to do was comfort the man and buck him up a bit.
“Very true, young man.” Wilbur was looking like his old self again. “That’s very wise.” He smiled. “Ah, Ella, Ella. She’s so lovely.”
Daniel’s left eyebrow rose all of its own accord. “Yes,” he murmured, “especially with the blue eye shadow.”
Abby kicked him under the table, but Wilbur hadn’t noticed anything amiss. He was full of confidence again. “I’d better get going,” he said, rising from his chair. “I’ve got a guitar lesson in half an hour. Wish me luck!”
And he was off. Daniel turned to Abby with a questioning look. “Are you beginning to get the picture here?”
She squirmed uncomfortably. “Daniel, I think you should have a bit more compassion for these people. Can’t you be a little more sensitive to their pain?”
He leaned toward her. “And I think you need to be a little less naive. Something fishy is going on at that clinic.”
She stared back at him, and he could see that she knew he was right.
“So,” she said softly, “what do you plan to do about it?”
Carrie Martin stared out at the pouring rain. Sheltered by the spacious kiosk situated outside the hospital, she was waiting for the bus that would take her to her job as hostess at La Grenouille Dorée, one of Portland’s fanciest restaurants. And her feet hurt.
“You’ll get used to it,” she kept telling herself. She had formerly taught math at a private school in San Francisco. She’d had to stand a lot at that, too, but somehow it just wasn’t as rough on her feet as hostessing was.
“Oh, well, you won’t have to do this much longer.”
That was the second thing she kept telling herself. She’d come to Portland with one goal in mind—confronting her ex-husband, Richard Strokudnowski, known to the world as Dr. Richie Strong. She’d been here for weeks and she hadn’t summoned up enough nerve to do it yet. In fact, she was spending far too much time in a state of ambivalence. Did she really need to do this? Would it change anything?
Yes. Some things had to be said. And the people who were being taken in by the false image he was projecting to the world needed to be given a wake-up call. Somehow she was going to have to gather together the nerve to do it. Somehow.
Hearing the unmistakable sound of someone running through the rain, she turned in time to see Daniel O’Callahan arrive at the kiosk, stopping in for a moment of shelter from the downpour.
“Welcome to my little island,” she told him humorously as he shook off the water and blinked at her.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “I’m was on the way to my car, but the sky opened up. It’s really coming down. I thought I’d give it a minute before I go on.”
“Good idea.”
He looked at her with interest. “Carrie Martin, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We met the other night at the clinic seminar.”
“I remember. The mysterious lady who wanted a gallon of ice cream all to herself.”
“In the spirit of rebellion,” she said, nodding. “And what were you doing there? You hardly look like someone in need of weight control.”
He hesitated, then told her, “Actually I was just doing a little investigating.”
“Ah-ha. Cop, private eye or media?”
“Uh, nothing official.”
“I see. A freelancer.”
“Well, not exactly.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry into your agenda. I have my own to take care of. And that’s quite enough to complicate my life thoroughly.”
He smiled his appreciation, remembering that he had thought at the time that this lady might hold information he would need to get to the bottom of things. She seemed more open to talking today, more approachable. So why not see what could be gleaned?
“Okay, Carrie Martin,” he said, smiling at her. “Both our agendas aside, what do you know about Dr. Richie that I should know?”
A veil seemed to drop over her eyes. “What makes you think I know anything special about him?” she asked after a long pause.
“A hunch. One of those hair-prickling-on-the-back-of-my-neck sort of hunches.”
She looked at him closely, and finally, she laughed. “Ooh, that sounds serious.”
He gazed at her somberly. “It is.”
She looked away, then looked into his eyes again. “Tell you what. If I have anything to say, you’ll be among the first to hear it.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a deal.”
She shook her head. “So impatient,” she murmured. “You’ve already got enough on your plate from the looks of it. I saw you an hour or so ago in the cafeteria with Abby Edwards.”
“Yeah, we were…having brunch.”
To her amusement, he seemed almost embarrassed and she could have sworn his face got a bit redder. Evidence of love in bloom if she ever saw it. It warmed her and made her envious at the same time. She’d had those feelings once. They hadn’t lasted though, had they?
“Listen, can I give you a ride?” Daniel asked. “I could get my car and drive over here and—”
“No, no. Thanks, but I’m waiting for my bus. It takes me right to where I’m going. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He looked out, grimacing. “I guess it’s lightened up a little. I’m going to make a run for it. See you later.”
“Good-bye.”
She watched him dash through the rain and heard someone else coming up from the direction of the hospital. Turning, she almost gasped aloud. It was the famous clinic doctor himself, holding a newspaper over his head against the drops.
“Wow,” he said, smiling at her as he shook off the wetness like a large friendly dog. “I didn’t realize it had gone from drizzle to full-scale pouring rain.”
She must have muttered something in reply, but she couldn’t have said what it was. This was the first time she’d been so close to the man in almost twenty years. She wasn’t ready for this!
What would she do if he recognized her? Of course, she’d changed. The years had done their work, but she’d also lost fifty pounds, dyed her hair blond and was wearing contacts that gave her the appearance of having blue eyes. Still, there was the voice. That was the hardest thing to disguise, but she would do her best by remembering to speak in a low tone.
He was still talking, going on and on about rain and the weather in Portland. She was regaining control as he spoke, catching her breath and managing a pleasant smile, despite the fact that her heart was beating so hard, it seemed to blot out thought. He was being friendly, much warmer and more personable than he seemed when he was talking to the groups she’d attended
lately.
Almost like the old Richard, she thought.
But it would be better not to have thoughts like that.
“I’m Dr. Richie,” he was saying, holding out his hand.
She froze for a moment, unable to make herself touch him. But it had to be done. With a jerky motion, she reached out and let him take her hand in his.
“C-C-Carrie Martin,” she managed to stutter out, then drew her hand back.
“You intrigue me, Carrie,” he said, frowning slightly. “Something about you reminds me of someone I used to know long ago.”
Oh, no! “Really?” Hold on, don’t lose it now. “The love of your life, no doubt.” Oh, my God! Did I really say that? What’s wrong with me? She looked anxiously into his face, but he seemed amused.
“Ah, but life is full of many loves,” he said. “Don’t you agree?”
She blinked. “No, not really.” Now she was getting annoyed with him. Anxiety fell away as anger took over.
“No?”
She stared at his reaction. You’d think the man had never had a statement challenged before. He looked downright shocked that she would take an opposing view.
“No,” she said firmly. “I think real love requires a few things deeper than flirtation. Like honesty. Compassion. Fidelity.”
He looked a bit bored. “The old-fashioned virtues. They’re all well and good for the run-of-the-mill population.” His smile managed to convey the idea that sophisticated adults such as the two of them knew better. “But don’t you think that there are some people who aspire to something larger and have so much more to give that their spirit can’t be confined that way? They need more, they give more, they have more to share with the world.”
So this was the claptrap he’d been feeding his ego lately. No wonder it was so flabby. Oh, yes, this was the sort of thing that made her really mad and always had.
“Could it be that others see it differently than you do? Seeing it from another perspective, I mean. In other words, where you see more giving, they might see more taking. Where you see yourself as a sharer, they might see a user.”
He shrugged, not particularly affronted by her speculation.
“I doubt that. I think most of my people know where I’m coming from. My people see me for what I am.”