Out of the Shadows

by Loree Lough

  Patrice nodded. He sounded slightly uncertain, which only added to his charm.

  “Dress casual,” he said, “’cause this isn’t a fancy place.”

  Another nod. Most guys wouldn’t have thought to share a thing like that, meaning that in addition to everything else, Wade was considerate. “Casual,” she echoed. “Thanks.”

  Grinning, Wade snapped off a smart salute and headed for the elevators, whistling an off-key rendition of West Side Story’s “Tonight.”

  Not knowing what to make of any of it, Patrice flopped onto the seat of her chair, leaned her elbows on the desk and pressed both palms to her face. “Not this time, Lord,” she prayed aloud, “’cause I don’t think I can survive another heartbreak.”

  Wade frowned at a black-framed photo hanging on his office wall, taken when he was voted Baltimore’s Bachelor of the Year by The City Magazine readers last year. On its left, another picture, snapped when he won a similar award at the Heart Association Ball two years ago; on the right, a certificate naming him this year’s Most Loveable Doctor.

  His participation in the contests and events helped to raise money for one worthy cause or another—the only reason Wade agreed to accept the invites. When the awards arrived, Wade gave them the attention he thought they deserved…by stuffing each into the trash can. If his secretary, Tara, hadn’t fished them out to mat and frame as Christmas gifts, they’d be buried deep in a Maryland landfill by now.

  He pushed back from his desk, swiveled the chair around so that it faced the windows and propped his shoes on the credenza. Here, where other doctors kept pictures of their wives, their children and grandchildren, were more reminders of Wade’s bachelor-for-life status.

  Wade stared past his certificates and awards, across the sea of cars in the parking lot below his window. Was it his imagination, or were there colorful baby seats and booster chairs in nearly half of them?

  What would it be like, he wondered, hearing the words his best friend had so recently heard: “Honey, we’re going to have a baby!”? He’d never seen Adam that happy, and he’d known him nearly twenty years. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; the guy had practically done handstands on the day he married Kasey. If Adam Thorne, of all people, could make his life over, find lasting love and a life mate and the whole ball of wax, might there be hope for Wade, too?

  He let out a bitter snicker. Not likely, Cameron, since you seem incapable of getting past a second date. Not that he didn’t want a lasting relationship….

  “And what do you want?” he whispered to himself.

  Moments passed, but no answer came. Not surprising. He’d failed to puzzle this one out, though he’d tried, dozens of times before.

  Dropping both feet to the floor, Wade stood and grabbed the miniblind’s wand. After several angry twists, he effectively shut out the parking lot…and every child-toting vehicle.

  His office door creaked open, and Tara said, “See you Monday, Wade.”

  “You bet,” he answered. “Say hi to Matt and the kids for me.”

  “Sure thing.” She started out the door, then poked her head back in. “Do me a favor?”

  “If I can.”

  “Get some sleep this weekend, will ya? You’re beginning to worry me.”

  “Careful, or I’ll move in so you can mother me full time.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tara said, waving away the comment. “Just what a guy like you wants—an infant and a toddler and mountains of diapers to come home to every night.”

  He was about to say better than my one-room apartment, when he replayed what she’d said: A guy like him?

  “If you’re gonna stay much longer, you might want to turn on a light in here. Eyestrain, y’know.”

  He forced a grin. “Old wives’ tale,” he said, grabbing his sports jacket. “Besides, I’m right behind you.”

  They walked side by side to the elevator. “Hot date?” Tara asked, pressing the down button.

  He pictured Patrice, with her mop of auburn curls, doe eyes, sweet smile…. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  The car whooshed them to the garage level. “Well, don’t burn yourself.” She patted his hand. “’Cause those babies are miracle workers.”

  He resisted the impulse to pocket both hands. “You have one of those baby-carrying gizmos?”

  “An infant seat, you mean?”

  Nodding, he said, “Yeah. Infant seat. You have one in your car?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have two of them. One for each of the kids. What kind of mother would I be if I—” She stopped talking mid-sentence and narrowed one eye. “Why?”

  Wade pretended he hadn’t heard the suspicion in her voice. Truth was, he had no earthly idea why he’d asked the question. “Just wondering, is all.”

  “Boy-oh-boy,” she said, giggling, “I’d give anything to meet the woman who has Dr. Nevermarry thinkin’ about baby seats!” She hopped out of the elevator.

  And she was still giggling when the doors hissed shut.

  Patrice stood in front of the foyer mirror and adjusted the earrings dangling from her lobes. “You sure you’ll be okay for a couple of hours?”

  “Sure I’m sure.” Gus fiddled with the controls of his wheelchair. “I’m okay while you’re at work all day, aren’t I?”

  Hands on her hips, she faced him. “Yes, Dad, but Molly is here with you while I’m at work.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d go hoarse trying to convince you I don’t need her.”

  “Save the tough-guy routine for somebody who’ll fall for it,” she teased. “Molly, for instance.” She winked. “I know you like having her around.”

  He shrugged. “She’s okay.”

  “Okay? Who else would let you beat them at board games the way she does!”

  Gus grinned. “You make a good point.” He sniffed the air. “You smell pretty.”

  “It’s the perfume you gave me last Christmas.” She leaned closer. “He said casual. I didn’t go overboard, did I?”

  Gus inspected her outfit: black flats, blue jeans, a pale pink turtleneck. “So who’s ‘he’ and where’s ‘he’ taking you?”

  She went back to fussing with her hair. “To a Mexican restaurant, somewhere here in Ellicott City.”

  “And where’d you meet him?”

  “His name is Wade Cameron, and I met him at the hospital.” She paused, wishing she didn’t have to say it. “He’s a cardiologist.”

  “Oh-h-h, no-o-o,” Gus groaned. “Not another doctor!” He shook his head. “Every time you get involved with one of those pompous know-it-alls, you get your teeth kicked in. When are you gonna learn, Treecie?”

  Patrice couldn’t very well argue with him. But she didn’t have to agree with him, either. “It’s a meal, Dad.” Besides, she added silently, it’s going to be different this time. This time I’m not going to fall crazy in love on the first date. “So please, when he gets here, be nice?”

  Gus raised both eyebrows and feigned innocence. “I’m always nice.”

  “True.” Bending, she kissed his cheek. “So be extra nice, then, for me, okay?”

  “Well, I’ll—” The doorbell rang, interrupting his promise.

  Patrice took a deep breath, then opened the door. Earlier, Wade had looked incredible in his lab coat and stethoscope. He looked even better now in khaki trousers and a fisherman’s knit sweater.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling. “How goes it?”

  “It goes pretty well. Come in. I’d like you to meet my father.” Patrice watched carefully, studying his reaction to the man in the wheelchair. If she’d learned this trick years ago, she might have spared herself a heartache…or two. “Dad, this is—”

  “Wade Cameron,” he broke in, grasping Gus’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. McKenzie.”

  “Good to meet you, too,” Gus said. “Treecie, here, tells me you’re a cardiologist.”

  He shrugged as if to say “no big deal,” then glanced around. “Nice place.”

  “Awright,
enough with the pleasantries,” Gus said. “Get on out of here, you two.”

  Wade chuckled and Patrice smiled. “Honestly, Dad, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a hot date planned for tonight.”

  “Matter of fact, I do have a hot date—with the television set.”

  “Well,” Wade said, “are you ready, Patrice?”

  She grabbed her jacket from the hall tree, hung it over her forearm. “I’ll have my cell phone on,” she said, patting her purse, “in case—”

  “I won’t need you. There’s a boxing match on cable.” He winked. “That oughta keep me out of trouble for a couple of hours.”

  She kissed his other cheek. “All right, but if you get hungry—”

  “Are you kidding? You fed me enough supper to last till tomorrow night!” He laughed. “Now get a move on, or I’ll miss the first round.”

  “We won’t be long,” Wade told Gus.

  “Take your time…please.” And snickering over his shoulder, he rolled into the family room.

  “He’s quite a guy,” Wade said as she locked up.

  She nodded. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  “Nah. I was a volunteer firefighter during my senior year in high school.” He opened the car door for her. “Got to know the area pretty well.”

  She slid onto the passenger seat. “So doing good deeds and saving lives has always been in your blood?”

  He slammed the door, hard. Routine? she wondered. Or in response to what she’d asked? Something told her it was the latter. But why would the question bother him?

  “How long has your dad been in the wheelchair?” he asked, revving the motor.

  She sighed. It was his turn, it seemed, to ask hard-to-answer questions. “Long time.”

  “Accident?”

  Nodding, she whispered, “Yes.”

  “Automobile? Or work related?”

  Patrice forced a sigh. “You’re off duty, Doc, so just relax, okay?”

  He shot a glance her way, and she could see by the puzzlement in his eyes that he didn’t understand her reluctance to talk about her father’s condition. She didn’t mind talking about that, exactly…it was how he got into the chair in the first place that she minded talking about.

  “So do you live near the hospital?”

  He shook his head. “I live a few minutes from here. Plumtree Apartments.”

  “How long?”

  “Little over a year.”

  “Wow. Amazing.”

  “That I live nearby?”

  “Well, that, and the fact that we haven’t run into one another in the grocery story, or at the pharmacy.”

  “So how’d it happen?”

  “That we haven’t run into one another?” Maybe playing dumb would get him off track.

  “Okay, I can take a hint.” He looked at her again. “Not your favorite subject, I take it.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief—

  “So what’s your mom up to tonight?”

  —and the breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t prepared for this eventuality.

  “Is she a boxing fan, too?”

  “Mom hated boxing,” Patrice blurted.

  “Hated? Past tense?” He shot a stunned look in her direction. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Patrice. I had no idea….”

  She leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Some fun date this is starting out to be, huh?”

  Wade reached over and took her hand. “If it was fun I wanted, I wouldn’t have asked you out.”

  That snapped her to attention! “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, wow. Oh, man. I, uh, I didn’t mean it that way. I only meant—”

  Laughing, she squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Wade. I know what you meant.” She paused. “I think—”

  “After that crack, I feel I owe you something better than the dinner I’d planned.”

  “Don’t be silly. The Mexican place is just fine.” She smacked her lips. “In fact, I’ve been craving soft tacos all evening.”

  “Soft tacos? No foolin’?”

  She nodded.

  “My favorite,” they said in unison.

  This time, Wade squeezed Patrice’s hand. “Say, maybe this night is gonna turn out all right, after all.”

  Maybe, she thought. And maybe I’d better be real careful with this one.

  Because already, she felt the oh-so-familiar tugs at her heartstrings.

  Chapter Two

  His hand on the small of her back, Wade led her into the restaurant. She seemed so small, so vulnerable beside him. If he had to guess, he would’ve said Patrice was five feet tall, not a fraction of an inch more.

  The instant they stepped into the restaurant, an elderly woman hollered, “Dr. Cameron!” She hurried toward them, arms outstretched. “It’s been too long. We’ve missed you!”

  “Nice to see you, too, Mrs. Gomez,” he said as she wrapped him in a grandmotherly hug. “How are you?”

  She pressed a hand to his cheek. “Fine, thanks to you.”

  “And where is Mr. Gomez?”

  Her eyes twinkled with mischief when she released him. “In the kitchen,” she whispered, “telling Juan how to do his job.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  Suddenly, she faced Patrice. “And who is your lady friend?”

  It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slide an arm around her waist. “Patrice,” Wade drawled, pulling her close to his side, “ah’d like you to meet Corrinne Gomez, sweetest li’l gal east of the Rio Grande.”

  Mrs. Gomez took Patrice’s hands in her own, then drew her into an embrace. Wade watched as Patrice returned the woman’s warm gesture, seemingly unperturbed by the uninvited physical contact.

  “Ah, theese one,” Mrs. Gomez said, “theese one, she’s a keeper.” She grabbed two menus from the hostess stand. “Come with me. I’ll find you a nice quiet booth in the back, where you’ll have some privacy.”

  As Patrice slid onto the burgundy leather seat, Mrs. Gomez winked. “I’ll send Enrique right over with tortillas and salsa,” she said, handing them each a menu. After whipping a book of matches from her apron pocket, she lit the candle in the middle of their table. “Suerte grande!” she said, winking again before hurrying away.

  Patrice’s gaze followed until Mrs. Gomez disappeared into the kitchen. She rested both arms on the table and leaned closer to Wade. “Lots o’ luck?” she translated, grinning as her eyes bore into his.

  Wade always brought women to Mi Casa for a first date. If they passed the Gomezes’ muster, he made a second attempt. So far, no woman had eaten here more than twice. He felt more than a little guilty, putting Patrice through her paces this way. For one thing, she hadn’t been the aggressor, like the others. For another, he genuinely liked her.

  He felt the heat of a blush, ran a finger under his collar.

  “And what was with that conspiratorial little wink?” she added, winking herself.

  He couldn’t very well tell her the truth, and for some reason, didn’t want to tell the usual first-date fibs. So he grinned, shook his head and said, “That Mrs. Gomez. Quite a card, isn’t she.”

  Wade prepared himself for a sassy retort, and likely would have heard one—if Juan hadn’t blustered up to the table just then.

  “Dr. Cameron! We were worried you’d fallen off the horse.” He laid a beefy hand on Wade’s shoulder “It isn’t Friday night unless Baltimore’s Bachelor of the Year brings a pretty girl here to eat!” His hearty laughter thundered as he gave Wade a playful slap on the back. “Glad to see you’re still in the saddle, m’boy!”

  Wade squirmed under Patrice’s level gaze. Yeah, he thought, still in the saddle.

  “Theese,” he said to Patrice, “eese one special man.”

  One well-arched brow rose a bit as Patrice made a feeble attempt to smile. She met Wade’s eyes. “I’m beginning to get the picture,” she said carefully.

  “He has a heart the size of his head, theese one.” Juan gl
anced at Wade. “Shall I tell her thee story?”

  Wade held up a hand, traffic cop style. “No. Really. Juan, we’d like a basket of tortillas, if you don’t mind, and some—”

  Juan shoved his bulk onto the seat beside Patrice. “Four years ago,” he continued, slinging an arm over her shoulders, “I was a telephone repairman. I was high on a pole when the ol’ ticker gave out. Thank the good Lord for safety harnesses!”

  Normally, the Gomezes teased Wade about his exploits. He couldn’t remember a time when either of them had mentioned Juan’s surgery. “Juan,” he began, “Patrice, here has to get back because—”

  “Patrice.” Juan faced her. “Pretty girl, pretty name,” he said, beaming. Then he aimed his dark-eyed stare at Wade. “Maybe theese time, you peek a winner?”

  Wade covered his eyes with one hand. “Juan—”

  “You think because you’re a big-shot doctor you can interrupt an old man’s story?” Another round of rumbling laughter filled the booth. He turned to Patrice again. “As I was saying, I had a heart attack up there, hanging from the telephone pole. And it would have killed me, if not for the good doctor, here.” He reached across the table, squeezed Wade’s forearm. “I thank the good Lord for him every day of my life.”

  A moment of silence ticked by before she said, “Maybe I’m the one who picked a winner.”

  Was she kidding?

  Wade came out of hiding in time to see the merry gleam in her eyes. So she’d decided to play along, he realized as his blush intensified.

  Juan held a forefinger aloft. “But you haven’t heard the half of it!”

  She tilted her head—a bit flirtatiously, Wade thought.

  “There’s more?”

  He figured Juan was gearing up to tell her about the loan, and he didn’t want that. Didn’t know why, exactly, he just didn’t. Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, he tried to think of a way to divert Juan’s attention. He saw Enrique just then, having an animated conversation with a diner. “Looks like your boy could use some help,” Wade said, pointing.

  Juan didn’t so much as glance in his son’s direction. “After the operation,” he went on, “I couldn’t go back to climbing poles, and I wasn’t trained to do anything else.” His voice softened. “For as long as I could remember, I took care of my own. Not being able to work was—”