She pulled away fast. “Eight? How did I sleep that late?”
“What? It’s not exactly two in the afternoon. Are you telling me you never sleep in?”
“Yes. Till seven.” She stood up, ran her hands through her hair, which was falling around her face in a wild profusion of curls, because she hadn’t blow-dried it last night. “I need to get dressed so we can go to the hospital.”
“Your grandma isn’t even going to get her breakfast till nine,” he said, shifting gears with an obvious effort. “I checked. And you need to give her a chance to make friends with all the nurses. So yeah, go ahead and get dressed so I can take you out to breakfast, because I’m not about to eat in that cafeteria again. I have some things to talk to you about anyway. Some plans I have.”
Forty-five minutes later, they were sitting in a café—but not the Chico Diner. She hadn’t felt up to seeing everyone who knew her, knew her grandmother. Let alone explaining the hospital, or explaining Alec.
“And besides,” she’d told him, “their coffee isn’t that good. True confessions.” Which had made him laugh.
He’d brought her here for breakfast instead, and she was feeling a lot more like herself now that she had a little makeup on, had her rowdy hair subdued again. Even though she was wearing snug, faded jeans and a close-fitting long-sleeved shirt with a scooped neckline, all soft oranges and browns, the kind of casual, slightly sexy clothes she’d never imagined Alec seeing her in. But there’d been no help for it, because she didn’t keep that much up here. And after all, he’d seen her in her bathrobe, and a lot less now too. Well, he’d felt her, anyway. In the dark. He’d sure done that.
He hadn’t seemed to mind her fashion choices, had looked her up and down and given her a slow, satisfied smile. Although he had expressed a little disappointment about her hair.
“Sorry I don’t get to see this anymore,” he’d said when she’d joined him in the kitchen again. He’d touched a hand to the nape of her neck, twisted a curl around his finger. “I liked it.”
“All wild like that?” she’d asked in surprise.
“I like you wild.”
Which had made her go liquid inside again. And that was why they were going to get this straight, right here in this coffee shop, because she needed to keep her expectations from getting away from her, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him explaining to her, a day, or three, or seven from now, that it was over. Kindly, because he was always kind. Letting her down easy.
“Right,” she said. They’d placed their orders, and had cups of coffee in front of them once again. “I’m going to try to say this better. There’s no undoing what we did. Anyway, I liked it. I want to do it again, the . . . whole thing this time, and then that’ll be it. Back to normal, which is for the best. And anyway,” she hurried on at the look on his face as he sat staring at her, his cup halfway to his lips, “that’s how you do things, and that’s fine. Better for me too.”
He set his cup down without taking a sip. “How do I do things, exactly? Enlighten me.”
“You’re casual.” She looked right back at him. “It’s just for fun, and it’s short. Which suits me fine, because we can’t have an office affair.”
“You’re right,” he said. “We’re not having an affair. That’s not what I want.”
“What?” She was completely confused now. “I thought you said . . . You seemed like you wanted . . .”
And that was when the waitress bustled up with their food. Eggs and toast for her, potatoes and bacon added for him. Alec thanked her abstractedly, but didn’t start eating. Instead, he waited until she’d turned away, then looked at Desiree again, dark brows drawn down in a straight line over those blue eyes.
“When did I say I wanted an affair?” he challenged. “Let alone a . . . what? A fling? A hookup?”
“What, you’re telling me you want a relationship?” She sighed. “Come on. I know you don’t. And it’d be risky on so many levels anyway. If people found out, if it ended badly and we were still working together . . . it’s such a bad idea.”
“It’s not a bad idea. You said that last night, remember? And remember what I told you? It’s a good idea. It’s a great idea. But I don’t want a ‘relationship.’ I hate that word. I want a . . .” He seemed to be searching for the word. “A romance. That’s what I want. A romance. I want to hold your hand, and bring you flowers, and walk barefoot on the beach with you, and take you away for the weekend. I want to thrill you. I want to sweep you off your feet.”
You just did. She had to remind herself to breathe. And that he was a master at this. He did it all the time, and boy, did practice make perfect.
But it was all right, because she wasn’t naïve, or a fool either. She was a rational, logical, disciplined woman who never let her dreams get away from her. He wanted to make it last a while? Well, she could figure out how to handle that, how to make it work out. And she deserved it. Surely she’d earned a little indulgence for once.
She felt like a dieter who’d spent years trying not to look at the tempting treats in the bakery window, turning away from the box of donuts on the break room table. And now, here was Alec. Not just a tasty snack, the entire buffet table. The richest, darkest, most decadent chocolate cake, slathered in a thick layer of chocolate buttercream, a little rosette of frosting piped on top, begging you to lick it off your fork.
For once, she was going to go ahead and have dessert, and she was going to savor every bite of it. But she wasn’t going to mistake it for dinner.
But she didn’t say any of that, because she wasn’t a fool.
“All right,” she told him, and if her smile was a little foolish all the same, well, she couldn’t help that. “Yes, please.”
His own smile grew as he looked back at her. “All right,” he repeated. “Good.”
“But we have to be careful,” she warned. “Not to show anything at the office. Not to cause any talk. Any speculation at all.”
“Well, no more than there already is, anyway,” he said. “I should tell you that Brandon and Joe already have a fair idea of how I feel about you.”
That made her sit up straighter. “That’s not good. You know how iffy things are still with Joe. And Brandon . . . what? You guys talk about me?”
“No of course not, not the way you mean. I don’t do that, and I don’t allow it either, remember?”
“That’s right,” she said, relaxing a little. “Sorry, got carried away for a moment there.”
“I know it’s tricky,” he reassured her. “But they know I haven’t got anywhere, and I won’t be enlightening them. As long as you can contain your desire for my body, restrain yourself from actually ripping my clothes off during those budget meetings, we’re good.”
“Well,” she said, and her breath was coming a little faster now, “it could be hard, but I’ll try.”
“Maybe we’d better get it out of your system, then.” He’d stopped smiling. “Work it out of you before we go back in there, so you can control yourself.”
“Maybe we should.” She could almost taste that buttercream, and oh, did she want it.
He cleared his throat, shifted a little on his side of the table. “But right now, we need to eat, so we can go see your grandmother. And think about what the doctor said, about getting someone to stay with her once she comes home.”
“Oh.” The 180-degree turn had her head spinning. How had she forgotten, even for a few minutes? All the heat and humor were gone, and the worry was back. “Do you think your dad might know of somebody, or how I could find somebody? Somebody who can cook, and who can help her with her rehab, and who isn’t going to drive her crazy either.” She pressed a hand to her temple, felt the throb of the pulse that had started hammering away there, right on cue. “I can start calling agencies tomorrow, I guess. Nothing’s going to be open today.”
“Desiree. Wait.” He was holding up a hand, smiling at her. “Hang on. And eat, would you? I already had a thought, and did some chec
king. I think I’ve got the answer.”
“You?” She couldn’t have been more surprised. But she did take a bite of toast.
“Me. Don’t look so shocked. It pains me. I am a CEO, you know, much as you enjoy bossing me around and pretending you’re in charge. I do have some ideas once in a while. I haven’t got here just by being good-looking and charming.”
“All right.” He’d teased the worry away, and she was smiling at him again, and eating too. “Let’s hear your answer.”
“You remember Lupe, from the show? The older lady on my homestead?”
“Sure. Of course.” She was confused. “She knows somebody?”
“She is somebody. A home health worker,” he explained. “And one hell of a fine cook. She didn’t have too much to work with out there, but she made beans and cornbread taste about as good as they could. And I had a chance to taste some of her Mexican cooking too, afterwards, and let me tell you . . .” He sighed and took another bite of scrambled egg. “I’d be pretty happy to be eating her huevos rancheros right now. She’ll get your grandma on her new diet, and happy to be there. Jolly her into going for her walks. Everything she needs.”
“But she’s . . . where?” Desiree was only slightly less confused. “And how do you know that she’d be available, or that it would work out?”
“Well, on the first one, because I already called her and asked,” he replied promptly. “She’s at a bit of a loose end right now, between jobs, and her daughter Maria-Elena off to college. Lupe ‘lives in’ sometimes, so that’s not new either. I told her all about it, and she’s up for it. I’ll bring her out from Minneapolis, if you want her, that is, and you’ll be all set.”
“Oh no, you won’t,” Desiree said immediately. “If that’s the answer, I’ll fly her out. Why on earth would that be your responsibility? But you think she’d be better than someone I’d find here?”
He’d frowned at her insistence, but he didn’t pursue it, just went on. “I already checked with my dad too, and he didn’t know of anybody good who’s available right now, short notice like this. And I know Lupe. You have to understand, it’s different out there. She was sharing a 250-square-foot log cabin with three other women, and two of them were no joy, I’ll tell you that. And even the other one was a whole lot more hard-headed than your grandmother could ever hope to be. If she could get along with the personalities out there . . . well, your sweet grandma’s going to be a piece of cake.”
“That Scott, you mean. He seemed like kind of a jerk.”
“Yeah. You could say that. Being out there pushes you right to the limit. The physical part, and being away from everybody and everything you know, and the game. You see what people are all about. And what she’s all about—it’s all good.”
“You’re sure?”
“Do a phone interview, anyway,” he urged.
“My grandma doesn’t like spicy food.” Could it be this easy?
“So you tell Lupe so, on the phone. See if you like her answer,” he coaxed. “Give it a try.”
She’d agreed, in the end, and he’d felt a surge of relief that was way out of proportion to the event. That he’d been able to take some of the weight off her shoulders, chase that worried frown away. Although he’d still rather bring Lupe out himself. Especially since it was going to be expensive if they did it today, and he had a feeling it was going to be today, tomorrow at the latest.
But for now, they were on their way to the hospital, with two out of two issues working out exactly the way he’d hoped. After a quick stop at a convenience store on the way, that is. Because restraint was one thing, but he was only human, and if he were touching Desiree again tonight without being able to be inside her . . . he didn’t think he could stand it.
“By the way,” he said, swinging into the hospital lot. “I may have given the nurse the impression that we were engaged this morning.”
“What?”
“Information to family members only. So I’m afraid you’re my fiancée for the moment.” Which, to his surprise, hadn’t bothered him one little bit to say, to the nurse or right this minute. “I might even have to hold your hand in there. For verisimilitude.”
“Verisimilitude.”
“It means ‘credibility.’ Wasn’t that in the PSAT study guide?”
“I know what it means.” She still sounded upset. “I thought the whole point was that we were being discreet.”
“In the office. Not a whole lot of overlap between here and there, though, is there? I’d say we’re safe, pretending. Or telling the truth. Whichever.”
He pulled into a space, and, of course, by the time he made it around the car, she’d already hopped out, pulled the hood of her jacket up to shelter from the persistent rain. He opened the umbrella he’d taken from beside the front door of the mobile home this morning, held it over her head as they made their way towards the entrance, avoiding the puddles as best they could. And she still hadn’t said anything.
“You saying you don’t want your grandma, or my family, or anybody at all to know we’re dating?” he pressed at last.
“We’re not dating. We haven’t been on a single date.”
“Hey,” he said firmly. “Last night was a definite date. A pretty good one, too. And I have a feeling that our next date is going to be even better.”
“Whoops,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear when they stepped off the elevator into the polished hallway of the Cardiac Care unit. “Our cover’s blown already.”
Because there was his dad, who wouldn’t have had to be a rocket scientist to figure out where Alec had spent the night.
“Desiree.” Dave took her hand in his own huge paw, gave it a squeeze. “I’ve just left your grandma, and she’s feeling much better. Just had her breakfast.”
“Thanks,” she said, and Alec could see her relief at the news.
“How are you doing?” his dad asked her. “Did you get some sleep?”
And now Alec could see the red creeping up. “Yes,” she said, keeping her composure as always. “Thank you for all your help, and for coming over this morning again. I know you’re busy.”
“That’s my job. And in this case, my pleasure,” he assured her. “But I do have a meeting over at the church, so I’ll say goodbye and let you get in there to say good morning.”
He let her go with a last squeeze of her hand, and she took off down the hall. And Alec watched her go, those soft, worn jeans all but painted onto the long legs.
“Good idea of yours, getting that help set up,” Dave told his son.
“Yeah, thanks,” Alec said with the pleasure it always gave him to know he’d made his dad proud. “Hope it works out.”
“Bring Desiree over for lunch, dinner, whatever, when you all get a break here,” Dave instructed. “But get in there now and look after her.”
“Which one?” Alec wondered when his dad had walked past him, on his way out.
Dave heard him, though, turned back. “Oh, I’d say both of them now, wouldn’t you?”
And then he offered his oldest child a smile, stepped into the waiting elevator and punched the button, and Alec was watching the doors slide shut.
One thing you could say about the Reverend David Kincaid, he knew how to leave his audience with something to think about.
Dixie was feeling better this morning, Desiree found. Well enough to argue.
“I’ll quit smoking,” she agreed with the doctor who had come by on her morning rounds. That was one down, anyway. “If it’s a choice between watching my granddaughter walk down the aisle someday and cigarettes now, I guess I’ve made my choice.”
Desiree focused on her grandmother, tried to ignore Alec sitting beside her, the word “fiancée” still echoing in her head. “That’s good, Grandma. Good choice. What else?” she asked the doctor.
“Giving up the cigarettes is a start,” the woman said. “But you’re going to have to make some additional lifestyle changes, Mrs. Foster. Medications are one thing, and
don’t get me wrong, they’re miracle drugs. But you have to do your part too. A new diet plan, an exercise schedule. I’m not telling you to run a marathon,” she said, raising a hand at Dixie’s look of surprise. “Easy walks, short at first, building up. You’ll need someone with you for that, and all the rest of the time too at first, like I told your granddaughter yesterday. We want you moving, but not overdoing. And not driving either, not for a while.”
“I’ve always taken care of myself,” Dixie objected. “I’m feeling fine, or I will be soon enough. I wouldn’t know what to do with somebody waiting on me.”
“Not negotiable,” the doctor said. “You don’t have somebody there, it’s a nursing home. You choose.”
Dixie sighed. “Desiree’s been hammering away at me already. And Pastor Dave said the same thing, and I guess he knows. I guess I’m beat.”
Desiree had to smile. Dixie could argue with her doctor, but if Pastor Dave said it, that was different.
“We’ve got it set up,” Desiree told the doctor. “No nursing home needed.” She’d called Lupe Garcia from Alec’s car after breakfast, anxious to get something set up right away, but determined not to make the wrong choice merely out of convenience. The other woman’s warm manner, though, combined with Alec’s assurance, had carried the day.
“Lupe’s coming out this afternoon,” she told Dixie once the doctor had left the room again. “I’ll take you home in the morning, stay with you for another day or two until you’re comfortable with her, and then she can take over.”
“Oh no, you won’t. If she’s coming today,” Dixie went on over Desiree’s objection, “and I’m stuck here till tomorrow, why in heaven’s name would you have to be here too? You’d think the nurses would have something better to do, the way they’re in here all the time checking this and that, asking me my birthday like they’re scared I’ll have gone senile in the last hour. And what about Alec? He needs to get back to work. I’m not his grandma, just some tiresome old lady with a contrary heart. He’s spent enough of his time on me.”
Nothing Personal (The Kincaids) Page 16