Just What the Doctor Ordered

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Thanks,” she said, pleased. “I knew I could count on you to understand. Matt and Miranda—even Andrew, sometimes—think this is just another phase I’m going through and that I’ll change my mind about making it a career. But I really love working here and, Ivan, I’m good at it, too.”

  “I never doubted it for a moment.”

  She smiled as she leaned against the desk and crossed her arms at her waist, her legs at the ankles.

  She’d always been a petite little thing, but there was a serious amount of leg showing between the hem of her short skirt and her trendy little shoes. Ivan had never before noticed the length of her legs, or the lovely shape of them. He’d never realized she was so…pretty, either. It had been several years since he’d seen her, true, but she shouldn’t have changed this much. Ainsley had grown up. Funny that he was so suddenly struck by that obvious fact. He’d have to get used to the idea that Baby had blossomed. Somehow just the thought made him uncomfortable.

  “Matt said your folks are in Chile now.”

  She nodded. “They were supposed to come home for the wedding, but there was an earthquake and they needed to stay on.”

  “Wedding?” He didn’t understand the swift clutch of emotion in his stomach. Surely if she’d gotten married, someone would have told him. “Whose wedding?” he asked casually. “Anyone I know?”

  “Our cousin, Scott. Uncle Edward’s son,” she said…and Ivan was immediately, inexplicably relieved. “I don’t know if you’ve met him or not. He’s something of a loner.” The corners of her mouth dipped into a rueful frown. “He still is, I guess, since the bride took off before the wedding and hasn’t been heard from since.”

  “Wow. That must be hard for the family. Especially you.”

  Her head came up and a startled look flashed in her eyes. “Me? Why especially me?”

  “Because you’re so empathetic, always concerned about other people and their problems, always wanting to fix whatever’s wrong.”

  “Oh,” she said, relaxing. “You and I have that in common, don’t we, Ivan?”

  “We have a lot of things in common, Ainsley. Not least among them our passion for Ping-Pong. I do plan to beat your socks off tonight both before and after dinner. I’ve been practicing.”

  “So have I.” She accepted his teasing challenge with a little toss of her curls. “And I was better than you to begin with. However, since it’s your first time at Danfair in five whole years, I’ll consider taking it easy on you.”

  “Oh!” He put a hand to his heart as if wounded. “Now there’s a double-dog dare if I ever heard one. Don’t even be thinking you’ll let me win. I’ll whip you fair and square, young lady, and don’t you forget it.”

  She laughed, a pure and wonderful sound that made him feel warm all through. “I was merely thinking I’d give you a fighting chance, but if you’re determined to be soundly defeated, far be it from me to deny you the humiliation.”

  He laughed, too, so glad to be in a place that felt so much like home, with someone who welcomed him with such open arms. “I’ll look forward to our match, Ainsley.”

  “Me, too.”

  She had a smile worth the trip from Arizona, and he hoped she never stopped smiling at him.

  “Guess I’d better leave you to your research,” he said, moving to the doorway. “I sure don’t want to be blamed if you don’t get all your work done.”

  “How considerate you are, Doctor D.” She tried to match his drawl as they walked together back out to the reception area. “But I happen to know you’re heading for the nearest Ping-Pong pool hall to get in some remedial work on your backhand before tonight’s match.”

  “That’s where I’d rather be going, but I have an appointment with a Realtor this afternoon. Have to find a place to hang my hat, you know.”

  “There’s an apartment available in my building,” Lucinda offered, overhearing Ivan’s last words. “You’d love it. I’d love it.”

  “I’ll keep that option in mind in case the house deal falls through.”

  “You’re buying a house?” Ainsley asked, her teasing replaced by the pleasure showing in her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us at Danfair? We do have several extra bedrooms, you know.”

  He had loved every minute he’d ever spent in the grand old mansion on the cliffs at Newport. But living there…? No. He didn’t belong and, silly as it seemed, he still harbored the secret fear that one day the Danvilles would realize it, too. He supposed that was the real reason he hadn’t kept in better touch with them. He’d talked to Matt on his office phone, of course, but had valiantly…and sometimes painfully… refrained from calling the house or even sending a postcard. Remaining close friends with Matt was one thing, but he’d wanted to give Miranda, Andrew and Ainsley some distance, a chance to take a step back from the one-of-the-family relationship he’d enjoyed. He should have known Ainsley, at least, would never allow that to happen. “I’m thirty-four,” he said. “I think it’s time I became a homeowner and paid property taxes like everyone else.”

  “I know someone who owns a lawn service,” Lucinda piped up. “I’ll give you my number, in case you ever need one.”

  “Ignore her.” Ainsley guided him past the desk to the frosted-glass doors where IF ENTERPRISES was spelled out in flowing black script across both panels. “She thrives on the least encouragement.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Ivan said goodbye to the receptionist with a wave and leaned down to kiss Ainsley on the cheek. Her skin was flawless and smooth to the touch. Her scent was fresh and inviting, appealing and sweetly sassy, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable being so close to her. But he’d often kissed her goodbye like this. She always greeted him with a hug. A sisterly hug. Just as this was a very brotherly kiss.

  Except that he wasn’t her brother.

  Ivan pulled back and opened the door with a slight jerk. “See you tonight,” he said.

  “Tonight,” she replied, watching him go from the office into the hallway, where he became just a tall, shadowy form on the other side of the glass and then disappeared completely from view.

  “Wowza.” Lucinda followed up with a long, low whistle. “If he’s in line for an introduction of possibilities, I’m available.”

  Ainsley shook her head. “Not even if I was thinking about putting together a match while Ilsa’s away, which I’m not. I learned my lesson with Scott.”

  “Too bad he can’t dance,” Lucinda said with a sigh. “Do you think I should lower my standards this one time?”

  “No,” Ainsley said rather sharply, then softened the effect with a smile. “You’re way out of his league, anyway. He needs someone much less experienced and much more…steady.”

  Lucinda wasn’t the least offended. She was a wild child and proud of it. At first, Ainsley had wondered why Ilsa had hired such a flamboyant personality as the receptionist, but now, of course, she understood. What Lucinda lacked in restraint, she more than made up for in loyalty and a positive attitude, not to mention her often insightful, offbeat perspective. And, for all her flirty ways, she was crazy in love with Gus, her partner on the dance floor and off.

  “Well, if he needs steady, do your sister a favor and hook him up with her. She needs a man worse than any woman I’ve ever seen. No offense.”

  None taken, because Luce was absolutely right. No one needed a love interest more than Miranda. Bossy, my-way-or-no-way Miranda. Who’d sworn off dating because it was tedious. Who tried far too hard to run Ainsley’s life. And Matt’s. And Andrew’s.

  “Ivan would be perfect for her,” Ainsley agreed, and then was immediately appalled that she’d said the words aloud. She was even more horrified to feel the kick of adrenaline that signaled the idea was already taking hold as a possibility.

  It was a good th
ing she’d promised Ilsa.

  It was definitely a good thing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ivan had heard all the stories about Danfair having been built on pirates’ gold.

  On his very first visit, back when he and Matt were Harvard undergrads, Ivan had heard about Black Dan, the ruthless pirate who’d robbed, pillaged and plundered his way into wealth and a vigorous stake in the New World. Matt had told the legend with great enthusiasm and an amused nonchalance, which Ivan had found as fascinating as the tale itself.

  “Absolutely,” Matt had replied when Ivan asked the obvious question. “I believe all Danvilles have a drop or two of pirate’s blood still coursing in their veins. Why else would we exercise this collective compulsion to save the world if not because we’re trying to atone for old Black Dan’s sins?”

  Most members of the Danville clan, however, discounted as ridiculous any suggestion that one of their ancestors could have been less than a sterling character. As proof, they pointed to the humanitarian aid provided throughout the world by The Danville Foundation; the philanthropic work of the Danvilles in the nearly four centuries since the family had first arrived on the shores of New England; the way generation after generation had worked to turn sand into gold, beachfront property into retail businesses, which grew into national chains, which bought more properties in a cycle of success that increased the fortunes of all the Danvilles. And, of course, provided The Danville Foundation with the funds to continually expand their mission of helping those unable to help themselves. That much good could not have descended from the bloodline of a greedy, grasping, seafaring thief. It simply couldn’t have happened.

  Ivan didn’t have any pirates in his family tree, and he sure didn’t have any relatives who could afford to be philanthropists in order to expiate some ancient crime. The Donovans had a hardscrabble history. The only beachfront property Ivan’s great-grandparents had owned was the sand in their shoes. His grandparents had been able to afford a small house. And while his own parents were coming up in the world—they’d scraped together enough to buy five acres—they were still a world away from the level of financial security the Danvilles enjoyed. A donation of outgrown clothing to the Salvation Army or Goodwill was as close to altruism as the Donovans had ever come. They were good people, strong and resilient in the face of hardship and tragedy, but without the history and pedigree Matt took for granted. Ivan had grown up in a little Texas town where no one had much money and where few of the residents had the resources to even imagine another way of life.

  Ivan was one of the few. He had imagined a different life. Because of Emma. Because he’d had to watch her die in the heat of a relentless summer, without any hope of making her well…or even comfortable. He’d promised then that one day he’d have the power to make a difference. As Emma’s life had ebbed away, Ivan had committed his life to saving children like her. He’d planned and schemed and worked to get into Harvard, believing the opportunities to fulfill his commitment would somehow arise from there. But he’d never expected the biggest opportunity of all would come through his college roommate. Matt Danville was more than a friend. He was as near to a brother as Ivan would ever know.

  And Danfair, sitting like a pearl in the midst of spectacular old country gardens, with a breathtaking, panoramic view of the Atlantic, was as close to paradise as Ivan ever expected to come. It was a magnificent house, an American castle, built for beauty and maintained with loving care. The first time Ivan saw the gleaming white structure, nestled in a field of green, with the seamless blue-gray ocean as its backdrop, he’d been awestruck, unable to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in such a place.

  Behind the classical Ionic columns and huge ornate doors, he’d expected to find a lifestyle straight out of The Great Gatsby, an elegance unmatched even in his imagination—great works of art and priceless antiques, a hushed sophistication in every voice, a solemn, dignified, otherworldly existence. He’d expected to feel uncomfortable and out of place.

  Instead, he’d discovered the unexpected.

  Adorning the splendid architecture, there was certainly plenty of art and the luxuries that indicated great wealth, but those material things were of secondary importance compared with the lives of the young people who lived there. A few steps into the East Salon—so-called by Matt and his siblings—Ivan found a storybook lifestyle designed to nurture the Danville clan. Much to his delight, there was a dartboard on the wall, a jukebox in one corner, and stacks of books, board games and puzzles everywhere. A Ping-Pong table had been set up on the right side of the room and an eclectic mix of cushiony furniture was grouped around a television set on the other.

  In the main dining room, a massive, dark, rich wood table was covered with jigsaw puzzles, bright, stubby crayons, all kinds of art paper and an assortment of paints. An indoor croquet field snaked from the library, through a reception room, along a wide hallway, and out to the entryway, where it ended just shy of the sweeping marble staircase. There was a small trampoline, center-stage, in a room whose original purpose Ivan had never been able to divine, and a larger trampoline on the wide back terrace. There was a collection of topiary animals in the east garden, a soccer goal on the back lawn and a maze of greenery that stretched nearly to the cliffs on the west side of the property.

  Ivan’s first glimpse of the long gold-and-white ballroom at Danfair had coincided with his first glimpse of Ainsley. She and Andrew were roller-skating on the beautiful parquet floors, racing like Olympians between the matching marble and gilt fireplaces that anchored either end of the great room. Ainsley had crashed into him with the reckless energy of a child. Barely thirteen at the time, she’d been mostly elbows and knees and odd angles, with untamed white-gold curls and eyes like an angel. She’d all but knocked the breath out of him with the accidental thrust of her helmet, so intent had she been on beating her brother in the race.

  “Oops, sorry,” she’d said in response to Matt’s reprimand. Then she skated off again, trying to catch Andrew, who was already halfway across the room. But she looked back over her shoulder once with a shy little smile that had captured Ivan’s heart.

  At that exact moment, he’d understood he was welcome inside this elegant home, that Ainsley would never judge him for all he didn’t have, but only on his willingness to accept her and her siblings for who they were inside these walls.

  In all the years since that first day at Danfair, nothing much had changed. They’d all grown into adulthood, but the house still remained a curious mix of sophistication and playfulness. And Ivan still felt at home there, facing Ainsley across the table tennis net and trying his hardest not to lose their first Ping-Pong match in years by a really humiliating margin.

  “I thought you said you’d been practicing,” Ainsley said as she served the ball with expert precision.

  He neatly slapped it back. “Don’t try to break my concentration. I know all your little tricks.”

  Her lips curved in a smile as she hammered the ball across the net, where it clipped the table just inside the line before bouncing up and over his shoulder. “My point, I believe,” she said smugly.

  “Lucky shot,” he replied, and tossed the ball to her.

  She arched one eyebrow in Ivan’s direction, then poised for another serve. “Ready?” />
  “Set.”

  “Go.” Ainsley swung, and the game was on again…for about fifteen seconds. Until the ball took a wicked little spin to the right as Ivan went left.

  “My point, again,” she said sweetly. “And it’s still my serve.”

  He retrieved the ball and handed it to her across the net. “I’m only letting you get a few points ahead before I move in for the kill.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She touched the tip of the paddle to her chin and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s see, now. Does that make the score four thousand, eight hundred and thirty-seven to two, or four thousand, eight hundred and thirty-seven to three?” Her smile was coy and enchanting. “I just want to be sure I didn’t miss one of your points in there, somewhere.”

  “Very funny,” he said in mock displeasure, wondering when she’d gotten so sassy.

  “Thank you,” she said sweetly. “I’ve been practicing.”

  “What? Beating the pants off your dinner guests?”

  She served the ball. “Oh, well, if you want special treatment, Ivan, I suppose I could let you win.”

  He sent the ball back with a nasty backspin. “You’ve developed an attitude since I’ve been away, Ainsley. I’m surprised Miranda lets you get away with it.”