by Nancy Warren
“He’s hoping I’ll do something dangerous like jaywalk so he has a good excuse to run me out of town.”
She smiled but refused to comment.
“Then there’s a pregnant woman at two o’clock checking her smart phone to see if I'm on the FBI’s most wanted list.”
She sighed. “My best friend, Charlotte. She’s not subtle.”
“And for the rest, I’d say they’ll have no trouble rounding up a posse if I step out of line.”
“Most of them are in my book club.”
He shook his head. “Strung up by bibliophiles. That’d be a new one.”
“We could go somewhere else.“
“They’d only follow.” He grinned at her. “I’d say everyone in this town adores you.”
“Or they don’t want to lose the town’s only doctor to a mysterious drifter.”
The martinis arrived at that moment. She sipped and found her drink deliciously dry.
“While you’re enjoying your cocktail, let me tell you about our dinner specials,” Louise said.
She chose the trout special, and her date ordered the steak with baked potato and all the fixings. He also ordered a bottle of wine, with the air of somebody who knows his way around a wine list.
When Louise disappeared with their orders she was trying to find a diplomatic way to ask him who exactly he was and why he was such a mass of contradictions, when he spoke. “So, what’s an uptown girl like you doing in a place like this?”
His words so mirrored her own thoughts about him that she smiled. “It’s funny, I was thinking something similar about you.”
“But I asked you first,” he reminded her.
She played with her cutlery, then realized what she was doing and put it back in place. When she glanced up and met his gaze she found it full of understanding. Enough that she could be honest. “I’m not sure how much I want to tell you.”
“Think of it this way. I’ll be gone in a few days. Never to be seen again. I’d say your secrets are safe with me.”
“And what about your secrets?” She leaned forward. If he could play this game, so could she. “Are they safe with me?”
Their gazes locked and she felt a sexual sizzle in her core, a feeling she hadn’t experienced for far too long. He reached forward and brushed her fingertips with his own. The sizzle went right to her toes. This from the merest whisper of a touch? She couldn’t imagine what a man like this could do to her. “Let’s find out,” he said, eyes grinning wickedly. “Tell me all your secrets.”
“How do I know you won’t drag my entire life story out of me and then clam up?”
His lips quirked. “I can see you’re a cautious woman.”
Years of experience in being manipulated, she could have told him. But that was one of those secrets she wasn’t yet ready to share. Probably never would with Evan. “I am.”
He appeared to contemplate the problem deeply.
“You could go first,” she suggested. “You could spill all your secrets and then I’d feel more comfortable telling you mine.”
He had a way of looking at her from under his ridiculously gorgeous eyelashes that made her picture rumpled sheets and bare skin moving on bare skin. He said, “My secrets would take us at least until breakfast.”
There it was. That challenge again.
“That’s a lot of secrets.”
“It is.” He leaned back, sipped his drink. Pondered. Finally said, “I have a suggestion.”
“I was hoping you would.”
“I will tell you a little about me. Then you will tell me a little about you.”
“We’ll take turns?”
“Yes.”
The wine arrived, and Evan sampled it and declared it fine. She sipped hers and decided he had a very good palate. She also decided she’d better take it easy on the booze. She sipped some of her ice water.
“So, who goes first in this telling of our histories?”
“I would say ‘lady’s first’ but in this case let’s say, ‘lady’s choice.’”
“Then I choose you.”
He didn’t seem stunned at her decision.
The food arrived and they spent a few moments tasting, approving. Salt and peppering. “All right,” he said. “I have ten brothers and sisters. And no, we’re not Catholic. I think, if my parents have a religion, it’s leave the world better than you found it.” He said the words with affection but she sensed a little irritation as well. She recalled that in her clinic he’d referred to them as hippy dippy. Interesting.
“I guess that’s a little like do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Though I’m not sure helping overpopulate the planet is in everyone’s best interest.”
“Well, we aren’t all natural born children. Some of us are strays they picked up along the way. My mother was pregnant when she and my Dad met and she refused to even consider giving up the baby for adoption. My dad, who grew up in a series of foster homes, most of them bad ones, always says he fell in love with her right then. They got married a few months before my oldest brother was born.
My great grandmother was an awesome old gal and she gave them the land. It had a cottage on it. My dad said it was a lucky chance that they met and they decided to change their names to Chance since he didn’t have a family and hers had disowned her.”
“They disowned her for getting pregnant?”
“Mostly, I think, for having an affair with a married man. He was a prof at her university.”
“An older, respected figure takes advantage of her, and that’s her fault?”
He chuckled. “Oh, I think my folks would like you.”
“I think I’d like them, too.”
“There was one other thing. The prof was black.”
Chapter Seven
“So, your brother…?”
“He looks a lot like his father.” He grinned. “The big joke in our family is that he’s the one everybody figures is adopted and he wasn’t. I think my folks always figured another black kid would come along who needed them, but strangely we’ve all been white.”
“Was it hard for him?”
“Being the only black kid in an all white family? There were a couple of bloody noses at school but I’m not even sure they were race-related. He’s a talented athlete and everybody likes Ben. He might have a different perspective, but he always seems to me like he can see things more clearly than other people.”
“You respect him.”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents must be wonderful people.”
“They are. It’s easy to talk about doing good, but they took in kids and somehow made it all work.”
“I have to ask. Are you one of those strays?”
“I honestly don’t know. My birth certificate says Chance, but then all our birth certificates say Chance because they do when you’re adopted. My parents are Daphne and Jack and that’s all I need to know.”
Of course, he was talking to a doctor. “What about any diseases in your birth family? Don’t you want to know?”
“No. You know as well as anyone that diet and exercise and healthy living play as big a part in disease as genetics. So, no.”
She might have argued but he gave her that under the lashes look again. “Your turn.”
“I am from a very WASP family. Two parents. Still married. Two kids. A boy and a girl. I was the youngest.” Evan had excellent table manners, she noted. And he listened intently, as though he cared deeply about what she was saying. She’d been out with enough men who droned on endlessly about themselves to know how rare this was. Even though she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share, it was still nice to be listened to.
She paused and he seemed to expect more from her first round. She said, “The medical practice was my grandfather’s.”
“Interesting pause,” he said. “And sudden change of subject between talking about your perfect wasp family and then segueing into your grandfather and his practice.”
Ir
ritation sluiced through her. This guy saw way too much. She leaned forward. “Do you, like, have a job? Or are you a wandering clairvoyant?”
“There’s nothing clairvoyant about listening to people. Noticing pauses and sudden changes in subject.”
She raised her brows and opened her eyes wide. “Interesting use of deflection to avoid answering a straight question.” Hah, she thought, when his smartass grin was wiped off his face. “I’m smart and observant too. But you already know that. And what I do for a living.”
He put up his hands as though defending himself in one of those TV fights that always caused her to flip the channel. “Okay. I am currently unemployed. Seeing this great land from a motorcycle and unsure of where I’ll go next.”
“Unemployed from what?”
He leaned back, put up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I knew we’d get here, I didn’t know it would be so fast. I was a corporate lawyer back in Seattle.”
“So what’s the mystery? Did you kill somebody? Get disbarred?”
Big, fancy, corporate lawyer. That made everything fall into place. The expensive casual clothes, the watch, his talent for observation.
“Nope. The opposite, I think. My job was killing me. No. That’s not true. It was killing a version of myself.” He let out a breath. “I guess I’m going to tell you my whole story, now, aren’t I?”
“Seems like maybe it would be good to tell it.” And once he got rolling he really unburdened himself. He told her about his boss who’d been like a second father, then about a colleague he’d nearly married who sounded to Caitlyn like a cold, ruthless cow, the kind who give lawyers a bad name. When his mentor died and his girlfriend wanted him to join her in a palace coup, he said, “I had an epiphany. Well, Tessa called it a breakdown. I’m still not sure which it was. All I knew was that I was thirty-five years old and at a crossroads. I was either going to continue down a road I was starting to hate, or I was going to pull away and rethink everything.
“This all happened right around my birthday and my mom had found an old list I made. One of those lists kids make of all the things they plan to do in life. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about the list and how I hadn’t done most of the things on it that had once been so important. I – God, this sounds so stupid I can’t believe I’m telling you. But I carry the list with me. I’m on a kind of quest, I suppose, to check off as many items as I can while I figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Can you understand that?”
Could she? She doubted anyone could understand better.
Instead of telling him how very much she could relate, she said, “Can I see your list?”
He hesitated a moment. “Okay, but you have to remember the boy who wrote this was only twelve years old.”
“If the boy was you I’m guessing he was precocious.”
“Yes.”
He reached for his wallet and removed a carefully folded piece of white paper lined with blue, the kind a school kid would scribble on. She unfolded it with care, understanding that this meant a great deal to him and he probably hadn’t shown the list to a lot of people. She hoped not anyway.
She read aloud but softly enough that their neighboring nosy diners couldn’t hear. “Ride a motorcycle across the country.” She glanced up. “Aha. So you’re not really a rootless drifter.”
She got to number six and a shiver went over her skin. She glanced up to find him staring at her mouth. “Have sex with a woman,” she said. “I notice there’s a exclamation mark behind that particular entry.”
“I was twelve. Seemed like a big deal.”
“And now that you’re thirty-five?”
His gaze was so intense she felt as though he could see right through her.
“It’s a big deal. With the right woman.”
“Interesting that sex with a woman came after swimming with dolphins on your list.”
“As I believe I’ve mentioned, I was twelve. Years have changed my perspective.”
“I’m guessing you’ve accomplished that particular item on your bucket list.” Why didn’t she move on? Why hover over those words, Have sex with a woman?
He shook his head slowly, holding her gaze. Her heart was beating faster. “When I headed out on this trip, I decided I wanted to do everything on that list even if I’d done it before.”
She licked her lower lip, a nervous habit she’d mostly learned to control. He watched the gesture the way a starving man might watch food being prepared. “And, since you’ve been on the road…have you?”
Slowly he shook his head.
Not that this was any of her business, but to her it was important.
“Not since the lawyer you were—”
“Not since her.”
She couldn’t believe she was seriously considering being number six on his list. This non-date had turned into a seduction so smooth she hadn’t seen it coming. Except that she’d done some of the seducing herself, she realized. She was honest enough to accept that she wanted this man in the most elemental way.
“Could I interest you folks in some dessert?”
“No.” They said in unison.
“Coffee?”
“Just the bill.” He belatedly remembered to say “Thank you.”
The police chief walked up to their table. She’d been prepared for the possibility, from the expression on Evan’s face so had he. She guessed, from the sudden stilling of every conversation in the restaurant that this little scene was better entertainment to the population of Miller’s Pond than a reality show on TV.
“Evening.”
“Chief Barker,” she said. Her dinner companion merely nodded.
“Thought you were headed out of town,” he said to Evan.
“I was. Had a little bike trouble. Merv is getting a replacement part but it will take a few days.”
Barker did not look thrilled at this news. He glanced between them but he must know he was only going to make a fool of himself if he said much more. He’d played one of his infantile practical jokes on both her and a stranger in his town and the joke had backfired on him. He shifted his weight to the other foot. Said, “I’ll talk to Merv in the morning. See if I can expedite things for you.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Where are you staying in town?”
“The Mill Pond Motel.”
He nodded. Had to be satisfied.
He seemed like he was leaving, then turned back. To Caitlyn he said, “We missed you at the neighborhood watch meeting last week.”
He was a good looking man, she thought. Even features, strong jaw. The build of a former athlete, though he was thickening a little in the middle. Even though he wasn’t in uniform on a Saturday night he might as well have been. His shirt was crisply ironed and neatly tucked into his jeans.
“I had to deliver a baby Wednesday night.” Which he already knew.
He nodded. “Hope you can make the next meeting. It’s a good program. The safest communities are those that stop crime before it begins.”
The chief nodded to both of them. “You have a good evening,” and he was gone.
She could feel the eyes of pretty much everyone in the place on the little drama. She was irritated. With Barker, with small-minded people who didn’t have enough to do. With herself for caring.
“Did he recite that line from a brochure?”
“Probably.”
“Not exactly subtle, is he? Reminding you of your local protection brigade, emphasizing that I’m an outsider.”
Even though she was deeply irritated with Barker she felt strangely loyal. “He really is a good man. He’s not at his best around you.”
“Which makes me a happy man.”
The bill came up and he pushed a gold credit card into the folder without bothering to look at the itemized bill. “I don’t want the night to end,” he said. So simple, so honest. So exactly how she felt.
When their gazes connected she felt her pulse speed up. Yet she was keenly
aware that she might as well be in a stage play.
She kept her gaze steady on his. “Discretion is important to me. This is a small town and an old-fashioned one. A few people had real trouble accepting a female doctor. I have no interest in having my private life judged by my neighbors.”
He nodded as though he’d already been thinking along those lines. “I have a loaner car from Merv’s. Here’s what I propose. I have to walk the dog.” His eyes lit with sudden humor and she imagined he didn’t normally have to consider the needs of an animal when he was making plans with a woman. “I’ll do that, return to my hotel room and then…” All the possibilities of ‘and then’ shimmered in the air between them. She felt her mouth go dry as though all the moisture in her system had but one intent. To pool in her core. She’d never felt so wet and ready for a man.
A strangled cry of pain broke through her haze of lust. Even as her entire being shouted NO silently, she reacted immediately. She was on her feet in an instant, heading for the source of that pain.
“Doc,” someone yelled. “Where’s the Doc?”
“I’m here.”
People were standing, wanting to help, so she had to force her way past to where an older man slumped in his seat, his color ghastly, sweat pouring down his face.
Albert Newson was one of the most reluctant of her patients. Her grandfather had taken him aside and pretty much told him that with his heart condition he couldn’t afford to fool around, driving miles to see a male doctor. So, they’d reached a compromise. Mr. Newson allowed Caitlyn to monitor his heart condition, but he was very clear that all his routine health care would be handled by a man.
“Where’s his nitro?” she snapped, feeling for his pulse.
“Here. I’ve got it here.” His wife fumbled with her handbag, her hands shaking so badly she couldn’t open the clasp. A male hand reached out. “Let me.”
Evan was right there. He dumped the contents of the handbag on the table without asking permission. She located the Nitro among a tumble of lipsticks and cough sweets. Sprayed the drug under Mr. Newson’s nose. He coughed and gasped.
“That’s right, Mr. Newsom,” she said slowly and calmly as his gaze focused on her slowly. “We’re in the restaurant. I’m going to get you to the hospital. Your heart’s acting up again.”
He nodded, “Jaw hurts.”
“I know.”
His eyes drifted shut. “I’m so tired.”
She turned around to face the crush of worried neighbors and friends. “Let’s back up now and give him some air.”