“Ever since you went away to college, I’ve kept a close watch on the storms out there. I’ll be glad when you’re back here to stay.”
“So will I, Mom. Things are pretty quiet here.”
“Do you like the work?” She had a knack for getting to the core of things.
Did he? He started to answer but realized the negative answer he would’ve given a week ago wasn’t the whole truth. So far, his patients had come to him with minor ailments — or imaginary ones if the person was only curious to meet the new doctor. But even without handling a serious crisis, he’d found satisfaction in helping people. And he couldn’t deny it was gratifying to be appreciated.
“It’s good to be practicing on my own,” he said in a guarded voice.
“Are the people nice? Just a second, dear.” She interrupted the call to answer a question from someone who came into her office at the museum, giving him a moment to frame his answer.
“Well, are they?” she repeated.
“Yes, very nice.” He told her about visiting the day care centers and then switched the topic to news from his brother.
She wasn’t easily put off. “Have you met any nice young women?”
“Everyone has been friendly.”
It wasn’t the answer she was fishing for, and he felt a little guilty for putting her off. She’d only met Belinda once, and they hadn’t hit it off at all well, not that his mother tried to run his social life. Without actually saying so, she was hoping to see him settled with a nice wife and a couple of kids.
After their conversation ended, he wondered why he hadn’t mentioned his date with Amy. It would’ve reassured his mother to know he had some semblance of a social life, but he didn’t know what to say about her. If he said she was adorable, entertaining, and sexy, it would only be a half-truth. She wasn’t his type, and she could be annoying, especially when she overstepped her role as a pharmacist.
Horse liniment! Who’d heard of a drug store dispensing animal remedies?
His stomach was growling after the eventful afternoon, but the contents of his small fridge didn’t offer much in the way of dinner. He could go to the market, but that meant cooking for himself. Or he could go to one of the town’s lackluster restaurants. Either way, he didn’t like eating alone, but he opted for a meal out because it was quicker.
“What I need is a dog,” he said, a surprising thought but an option to prevent having all his meals by himself.
Quickly dismissing that idea because he wasn’t home enough to care for a pet, he resigned himself to another dinner out. But he just wasn’t in the mood to go out by himself.
Face it, he thought, you’re getting tired of your own company. Maybe he should think about asking Amy to join him again. There was a void in his life right now, and her image kept popping into his head. Did that mean he was interested in her? Sure it did! But was it a good idea to get emotionally attached when he knew his tenure here would end in two years?
I can’t live like a hermit, he told himself, but he knew it was only an excuse. He wanted to see the little pharmacist again. She was playing a big part in his daydreams lately, especially visions of her skinny-dipping at the gravel pit or soaking wet in her little white jacket. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for in curves and cuteness.
On impulse, he picked up his phone where her number was already on speed dial. After nine rings, she hadn’t answered. Where could she be in her small apartment? Maybe in the shower, but that brought up images he didn’t want to deal with.
“Hello.” She answered just when he was about to give up.
He hadn’t thought ahead about what to say, but an apology was always a good opener.
“Amy, this is Dan. I’m sorry about this afternoon — being so put out about the horse liniment. I realize it wasn’t your idea. Don’t give up on me. I’ll get the hang of how things are done here eventually.”
There was nothing but silence on her end of the line.
“Thanks for letting me share your tornado shelter. We had a few warnings in Iowa City, but there were plenty of big buildings on the university campus.”
He obviously wasn’t getting anywhere, so he tried one more time.
“I’m going out for some dinner. Can I pick you up to join me?”
“Thanks, but I’ve eaten. I’m hunkered down reading a book in my bathrobe, so I’d rather not go out this evening.”
“I understand.” He knew rejection when he heard it. There was nothing to do but end the conversation. “I’ll see you around.”
“Wait!”
“What?” He was so surprised by the urgency in her voice, he kept listening.
“I owe you a meal,” she said.
Did she want to buy dinner for him?
“I’m not much of a cook, but maybe you’d take the risk and have dinner here some evening.”
“Sure, sounds great. I’m not a fussy eater.” Why had he added that bit? It made it sound as if he expected her meal to be lousy. “When do you want me?”
“Thursday is my day off this week. Would that be okay?”
Was that hesitation he heard in her voice? Just in case she was already regretting her impulsive invitation, he quickly agreed to it.
“I’ll see you then,” she said, breaking off the call.
For several moments he stood with the phone in hand, wondering what was up with her. Did she feel obligated to offer him a meal? Had she expected him to decline? He couldn’t help imagining her snuggled beside him with nothing between them but a fluffy robe. Was the temperature rising, or had it been too long for him?
He jammed the cell phone into the pocket of his jeans and headed toward the market, hoping they had one of their special roasted chickens left. He was in no fit mood to sit around a restaurant.
• • •
What on earth had she done? Amy hadn’t intended to ask Dan to her apartment for dinner. The invitation just popped out, an impulse she was already regretting. He’d caught her at a weak moment, almost asleep on the couch with a book unread on her lap.
Not only did she have to come up with something to feed him, she had to tell her mother. She could already hear her mother’s glee, and it would be impossible to explain why she’d done it when she didn’t even know herself.
Shivering at the thought of being alone with Dan in her digs, she let her imagination run amuck. Suddenly everything in her apartment shrunk in size when she compared it to his commanding masculine presence, his long legs, broad muscular chest, and devastating smile. There was so much of him to admire, and the more she thought of the parts she hadn’t seen, the more uncomfortable she became. She’d feel the same way if a hunky hero stepped down from a movie screen to whisk her into the bedroom. The prospect was as daunting as it was unreal.
Tomorrow was soon enough to let her mother know. Or maybe the day after would suffice. This was one episode in her life that she absolutely did not want to become fodder for the town’s gossips!
CHAPTER 9
Why on earth had she asked Dan to come Thursday? Every hour that passed increased her nervousness, and it would’ve been so much better to get it over with right away. What could it possibly matter whether she had the day off when he came to dinner?
As it was, she avoided him like the plague in the days leading up to their “date,” checking the street before venturing outside, hiding in the stock room when he came into the store, and generally acting like an idiot. It was embarrassing beyond belief to realize he probably thought she was coming on to him. Nothing good could come of this. It would be a disaster, and she’d have to spend the next two years avoiding him.
Dan was out of her league and destined to reject her sooner or later. When he was free to go back to California, he probably wouldn’t remember her name. She was setting herself up for heartb
reak.
Or maybe she was overreacting. A guy with his great looks was probably used to female pursuit. Maybe her invitation was so inconsequential he’d forget to come.
Yes, that would be perfect. If he stood her up, she’d never have to deal with him again. Her feelings would be hurt, especially since she’d been cleaning her apartment every evening to be ready for him, but wasn’t that immensely better than suffering a broken heart when he left town for good?
“My mother is having a Pots and Pans party this evening,” Josie said Thursday afternoon. “I guess I have to go. Want to keep me company? You don’t have to buy anything.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Kitchen stuff really isn’t my thing.” Amy avoided looking directly at her friend. Josie knew her well enough to suspect she was up to something.
“Mine either, at least not that high-priced stuff. I told Mom it’s too expensive, but she’s excited about getting a free pasta pot for hosting the party.”
“Well, have fun.” Amy hoped she sounded chipper.
By ten minutes after six she’d done all her closing jobs, including checking the registers early and putting the proceeds in a bank bag to drop off in the night depository on the way home.
This still didn’t leave her much time to get ready, but she had it all planned. All she had to do was get herself ready.
When she was still damp from the shower with her hair hanging in unruly curls from the moisture, she faced her closet with determination. Fancy was out. Much as she’d like to wow Dan with her form-fitting black dress or the sleeveless pink cotton knit that barely covered her behind, she had to be sensible. Casual dress would send a better message.
After a few moments of agonizing, she opted for her best white shorts and a bright pink tank top. After dressing and slipping into sandals, she rushed to set the kitchen table. Her plastic plates and stainless tableware weren’t elegant, but neither was the menu.
“There, I’m ready,” she announced aloud.
There was even time for a light makeup job to make her eyes look more dramatic and her lips more kissable — not that there would be any of that. She crossed her fingers for the first time since grade school and hoped the evening wouldn’t be a total disaster.
• • •
Dan kept reminding himself Amy wasn’t his type. Sure, she was cute, cuddly, and quick-witted, the perfect date for a senior prom, but he wasn’t a horny teenager. He liked sleek brunettes with wicked eyes, mysterious beauties who left much to be discovered. Belinda had been his ideal until he discovered her treachery and greed. She wanted to marry a filthy rich big-city doctor, but she hadn’t been willing to stay with him while he fulfilled his obligation to Heart City and established himself in California.
Thinking about Belinda put him in a decidedly foul state of mind. He even considered canceling dinner at Amy’s because he didn’t want to inflict his grouchy mood on her. But how could he back out at the last minute after she went to the trouble of fixing a meal for him?
A shower made him feel cleaner but not much happier about dinner. In his experience, an invitation for a home-cooked meal had awkward connotations. He hardly knew the pharmacist, and the scenario was a little too cozy for comfort. Next she’d be inviting him to her mother’s house to meet the family.
His wardrobe was nothing to write home about, although Belinda had often given him gifts she “picked up” at Macy’s in Chicago when she went into the city from her ritzy suburban home. He’d begged her not to, but apparently, his wardrobe didn’t meet her standards. That should have been his first clue.
After deciding on khaki slacks and a navy polo shirt, he went to his van, feeling a bit silly for driving the short distance. But he felt less conspicuous in a vehicle, and one thing he’d already learned about Heart City: The town had eyes. He didn’t want Amy to be embarrassed by casual gossip, and his van was nondescript enough not to attract attention.
When he got to her apartment and tapped softly on her door, he was surprised to be kept waiting. He knocked again more forcefully, wondering if she was playing the old female game of make-him-wait.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding breathless when she opened the door. “I was in the middle of something.”
“No problem. I thought you might like to try some California wine.” It had been a last minute thought. A friend had given him a bottle to celebrate the beginning of his practice, and he forgotten about it until he was ready to leave for Amy’s.
“Thank you,” she said with a broad smile. “I never thought of getting some. I’m afraid I don’t have a corkscrew. The only wine I ever buy has a cap.”
“That’s okay. Save it for another day.”
He looked around her compact but pleasant living area. It was sparsely furnished with several Renoir prints framed over a green and gold striped couch. There were two rockers, one antique and the other with clean lines in keeping with the couch. The floor had wide aged oak boards, perhaps original to the building, and she’d had the good taste to use it as part of the décor instead of covering it with rugs.
“Nice place,” he said, liking the lack of clutter and the sunny vista through the open sliding glass door to the small balcony.
“Thanks, I enjoy it. I only have to pop the potatoes in the microwave,” she said, not allowing any time for chitchat before the meal. “If you’d like to wait on the balcony, I put a chair out there.”
“I’m fine here.”
He stood, hands stuffed in his pants pockets, watching as she bent over to check the contents of the oven. Her legs and butt were spectacular, and the shorts hugged her cheeks in a more provocative way than she seemed to realize.
“Won’t be long now.” She straightened and smiled a bit self-consciously. “Don’t expect too much. I’ll never be on the Food Network.”
“I’m surprised. All that lab work you had to do for your pharmacy degree.”
“Chemistry is not cooking,” she said with a grin, the first sign she might enjoy the evening.
He gave her high marks for efficiency. Less than ten minutes after he arrived, she had dinner on the table. Or maybe she regretted her invitation and wanted to get it over with.
His jaw fell open, and he nearly laughed out loud when he saw the golden brown chicken, slow-cooked on a spit at the neighborhood market.
“I’m not much at carving,” she said apologetically as she plunked the poultry on a plate. “Want to give it a try?”
“Sure.”
Her big carving knife and sharp-pronged fork seemed like overkill for such a small bird, but he gave it a go. In fact, he’d consumed an identical chicken over the last three days.
“How did you get all the way to Iowa for school?” she asked as she struggled to remove the plastic from a potato without burning her fingers.
“Long story, but not an interesting one. Basically, I followed the scholarship money. My mother’s boss at the museum got his undergraduate degree at the University of Iowa. He helped a lot.” He passed the plate of dismembered chicken across the table to her.
“That’s nice.” She passed him a bowl of salad, the kind that came in a bag, and watched him use two soup spoons to put some on a separate plate.
“You’ve always lived in Heart City?” he asked.
“Except for college.”
The conversation was going nowhere. Polite was overrated when it came to getting to know a woman.
“Why aren’t you married?” It was a question calculated to rile her and end this stilted exchange.
“I beg your pardon?” The green glints in her eyes sparkled as she reacted indignantly.
“It’s a fair question,” he said, taking a bite of chicken so dry he had to wash it down with ice water. What had she done to make a fairly decent roasted bird so tough?
“No one has asked me,” she said
in a dismissive voice.
“I doubt that.” He tried the potato and decided it really needed a big dollop of sour cream to make it edible.
“No one I wanted to marry,” she said. “There are lots of advantages to being single.”
“Like what?” He was baiting her, but it covered his indifference to the meal.
“I’m not accountable to anyone, except my boss, of course.” She nibbled on a bite of chicken and seemed to have the same reaction he did. “This is terrible. I thought I could rely on the ones the market does on a spit.”
“It is a little dry,” he said, enjoying the banter far more than the dinner. “More so than the one I ate the last three days.”
“Really?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, making her look even more delectable.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Sorry.” He did feel a little bad.
“At least I won’t have to sit here and pretend to eat it,” she said with a grin. “Guess I set the oven too high. I wanted to be sure it was hot, so 500 degrees seemed about right.”
“The salad looks good.” She’d set out grated cheese, croutons, and three different kinds of bottled dressing.
“I hope something is. Why aren’t you married? You probably had a string of women dying to marry a doctor.” She was playing hardball, and he admired it, even if her question touched a sensitive nerve.
“Just one. She had visions of a big income and a ritzy lifestyle, but no patience to wait for it.”
“She wouldn’t come to Heart City with you?”
“Wouldn’t even consider it.”
“I’m sorry. You must hate being here without her,” she said sympathetically.
“No,” he said, giving some thought to her comment. “I can see I’m needed here. There’s a lot to be said for that.”
“Maybe she’ll miss you and change her mind,” Amy suggested, sounding genuinely concerned for him.
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