by Diana Palmer
What an odd way to put it. “I don’t plan to rush out and file kidnapping charges against you,” she said pointedly.
He turned. “That wasn’t how I meant it, although I will apologize handsomely for kidnapping you by mistake.” His eyes swept over her very slowly, almost possessively. “I suppose you’ll be rushing back to your practice.”
“I need to.”
“What if you don’t have a job to go back to?” he persisted seriously.
She blew out a soft breath. “Well, I suppose they’ll repossess my car and my apartment first…”
“Is there somewhere else you could work, if you had to?”
“Of course!” she said, laughing. “Sioux City isn’t that small. There are other practices. I could find some thing, but it wouldn’t be as a partner. I’d have to start at the bottom again.”
“Honey, I don’t think you’ve realized that you’re at the bottom right now.”
The endearment made her heart race. She dropped her eyes before he could read the pleasure it gave her.
“Sorry. That slipped out,” he said, teasing.
“Oh, I liked it,” she replied. “Nobody ever called me honey except the mailman, and he was seventy.”
He burst out laughing. “I’ll have to make up for that. You can’t leave until morning, anyway, not unless they get those roads cleared early.”
“I wouldn’t leave until you were well, regardless,” she said, surprised at his assumption that she couldn’t wait to get out.
His face smoothed. All expression went out of it. “I see.”
“You needn’t look shocked,” she said. “You’d do it for me.”
“Yes, I would.” He began to realize how much he’d do for her. Under different circumstances, they might have had a real beginning. But it was the wrong time, the wrong place, and he was still afraid of the risk.
“It’s been an experience I’ll never forget,” she said absently. “I’ll listen to your tapes from now on. I suppose I was a bit of a musical snob.”
“Maybe I was, too. I think I’ll buy an opera tape or two.”
She smiled. “That’s nice. You might try Puccini.”
“Is he that Italian singer?” he asked.
“He’s the composer. He’s dead. But Domingo and Pavorotti sing the operas he wrote. My favorite opera is Turandot.”
“Turandot.” He smiled back. “I’ll remember.”
She got up from the piano. “How about something to eat?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth!”
She went into the kitchen and made potato pancakes and steak and biscuits with a side salad. When she went to call Hank, he was out of bed and dressed in jeans and a green pullover shirt. Despite that overshadowing growth of hair that covered his face, concealing its shape, he looked wonderful to Poppy.
“Are you sure you feel like eating at the table?” she asked worriedly.
“Yes. I’m still a little weak, but I’m on the mend.” He smiled. “Doesn’t it show?”
She nodded. “I guess it does.”
They ate at the small table in the kitchen. His appetite was much better, and he was only coughing occasionally now. He ate heartily. Considering the speed of his recovery, it didn’t take much guesswork to tell that overall, he was in great shape.
“How did you learn to cook like this?” he asked.
“From my dad. He was a chef. He really was good at it, too. He taught me how to make pastries and sauces. I enjoy cooking.”
“It shows. This is delicious.”
“Thank you!”
They were silent until they finished eating. They drank their second cup of coffee at the kitchen table, and Hank stared into his mug pensively.
“You’re brooding, aren’t you?” she asked.
He nodded. He looked up into her eyes and held them for a long, static moment. “I haven’t had anyone around me, close like this, for a long time. You’ve grown on me, Poppy,” he mused half-humorously. “I’m going to miss you.”
She smiled back, a little sadly. “I’m going to miss you, too. I haven’t had anyone to look after or care about since my dad died. It’s been lonely for me.”
He turned the coffee mug idly on the table’s glossy surface. “Then suppose we keep in touch,” he suggested without looking at her.
Her heart leapt. “Oh, that would…” She calmed her tone. “That would be nice. I’d like that.”
He smiled at her. “So would I. I’ll give you the address here and in Texas. Write to me when you get back.”
“Are you terrible about answering letters?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m very good about it, in fact. I answer most of my own fan mail with the help of a secretary.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t.” He corrected her, interpreting her expression accurately. “I don’t leave her to do the answering, I dictate the replies. And I won’t let anyone answer your letters. I’ll do it myself.”
Her stiff posture relaxed. “Then I’ll write.”
“And don’t assume that if you don’t hear back immediately that I’ve forgotten you or that I’m ignoring you,” he added. “I’m on the road a lot, I told you. It may take a week or two, sometimes longer, for my mail to catch up with me.”
“I’ll remember,” she promised.
He reached out and covered her soft hand with his big one. “One more thing,” he said gently, coaxing her eyes up to meet his. “Find another job.”
She gaped at him. “My job is my business.”
“Your job is a joke,” he returned. “They’re using you, sweetheart, dangling the idea of a partnership so that they can get someone to take over the jobs they don’t want. There won’t be any partnership. One day they’ll find someone more useful and you’ll be out on your ear, perhaps at the most inconvenient time.”
“You’re very cynical,” she remarked.
He nodded. “I’m an expert on people who use other people,” he told her. “I’ve been used a time or two myself.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Can I have three guesses about how they did it?”
He glowered at her. “I’m serious.”
She finished her coffee. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.”
She got up and put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Is there anything else that needs doing?”
“Yes.” He came up behind her and slipped his lean arms around her, hugging her back against him. “I need to be ravished.”
She laughed with pure delight. “I’m not up to your weight,” she reminded him, looking up over her shoulder with sparkling dark eyes. “And besides, I’d never be able to overpower you.”
“I’ll help.”
She shook her head. “No. I expect that you’re as addictive as caffeine. One taste of you wouldn’t be enough. I’d get withdrawal symptoms.”
He chuckled and hugged her closer for a minute. “So would I. And I’m probably still a little contagious,” he added with a sheepish grin as he let her go. “No matter,” he mused, watching her. “When I’m well and truly back on my feet, I’ll come calling. Then, look out.”
The soft warning kept her going, all through the rest of the day, and through the anguish of the parting the next morning, when he had to take her to the ski lodge and leave her with barely more than an affectionate hug.
She worried about him all the way to the airport on the lodge’s shuttle bus, because even though the snowplows had been along, the roads were still treacherous. But as the shuttle passed the road to his cabin, she saw that his Bronco was safely parked at the door and smoke was coming out of the fireplace. He’d made it home, and hopefully, he’d be fine. She settled back into her seat, trying not to cry. It was amazing, she thought, how five days in Colorado had altered the rest of her life. Her last thought as they left the snow-covered valley behind was how would she survive until she saw Hank again?
CHAPTER SIX
Poppy bega
n to realize very quickly after her return to Sioux City, Iowa, that Hank had been right about her supposed partnership. The vets with whom she worked seemed to have plenty of free time and yet they made three times her salary. She was always the one to work nights and weekends and holidays, and whenever the weather was particularly bad, it was Poppy who had to go out on large-animal calls. That could be very difficult indeed when she was asked to deliver a calf or a foal, or treat a mean-tempered bull for a cut.
She had bruises all over her, a bad cold and there was no mention of an increased salary or a partnership two months later. She was getting fed up. And not only with the veterinary practice.
She’d written twice to Hank. So far, there hadn’t been even a postcard in reply. On one of the music talk shows, which she’d started watching, there had been one tidbit about Amanda Sutton being in a hospital in Wyoming awaiting the birth of her first child and some more rumors about the breakup of her group, Desperado. But that was all the news there had been. Remembering how fond Hank was of Amanda, Poppy hoped she was all right and that her child had been born healthy.
She tried very hard to remember what Hank had said about not being upset if she didn’t hear from him right away. But when two months rolled into three, she began to put the past in perspective. The time she’d spent with Hank had been a five-day interlude and nothing serious had really happened, except for a few kisses. He’d told her he wanted nothing less than another marriage, so what had she expected? Perhaps he’d decided that even friendship with her was too much of a risk, and he’d withdrawn.
She couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t had an easy time of it where women were concerned. But the last thing on her mind had been trapping him into a relationship he didn’t want. When she thought about it, it seemed likely that he’d had his share of ambitious women stalking him because he was rich and famous. She wasn’t like that, but he wouldn’t know. He didn’t know her at all. Apparently he didn’t want to.
Poppy tried to put him out of her mind, but his new song, “Redbird,” had just been released on an album along with several other newly recorded tracks. It meant that Amanda had to be working again, because her sweet, clear soprano could be heard above the deep bass voices of her group. The song that Poppy had given him the inspiration for was as beautiful as it had sounded in the cabin, and it was a surprise to find that her first name was mentioned in the dedication of the album, jointly to Carlton Wayne Sutton—very obviously the new baby—and herself. She tingled all over at the thought that Hank had remembered her even that well. She was a nobody, after all, hardly his sort of woman. The terrible thing was that she had no close girlfriends, no one to share the thrill with. She mentioned it to a clerk in the nearby record shop, but he only smiled and agreed that it was a great honor. She was sure that he didn’t believe her.
Her stamina was giving out. Despite her youth, the practice was really getting her down. Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and she went looking for another job.
She found it in a very small practice in a town twenty miles outside Sioux City, in a farming community. The elderly veterinarian there had one young partner but needed someone to take care of the office while the two of them were out on large-animal calls. Poppy wasn’t overly eager, but she was pleasant and had qualifications that they liked.
“What about experience?” Dr. Joiner, the elder partner, asked gently.
“I’m working for a group practice in Sioux City,” she explained, “but I have to do all the large-animal calls and work nights and holidays and weekends.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I suppose that sounds as if I’m lazy. I’m not, and it is a great opportunity to learn how a practice works. But I’m so tired,” she concluded helplessly.
Dr. Joiner exchanged a speaking glance with his young partner, Dr. Helman. “It isn’t quite so busy here,” he explained. “But we have enough work for three people. The thing is, I can’t offer you a partnership. You’d be a salaried employee and nothing more.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Poppy said, relieved. “I don’t think I’ve got enough stamina for another partnership.”
Dr. Joiner chuckled. “Dr. O’Brien, you’re a peach. I’ll be happy to have you aboard. When can you start?”
She explained that she’d have to give two weeks’ notice, and that she’d make sure she got a reference from her partners. She thanked Dr. Joiner again, smiled at Dr. Helman and set off to her office with a lighter heart.
*
The partners weren’t surprised when she announced her resignation, and they gave her a good recommendation as well. They apparently expected that no junior partner was going to last very long with what was expected of her or him. But they were interviewing other new graduates the last few days Poppy worked for them. She couldn’t even warn the excited prospective employees. They’d have to find out the truth the same harsh way she had. But it would teach them a good lesson. Heaven knew, she’d learned hers.
She kept her apartment. It was only a twenty-five-minute drive to the new office, and she’d have to have time to look for a new place to live that was closer, if her new job worked out.
The job itself, after the long, strenuous practice she’d left, was wonderfully uncomplicated and enjoyable. She didn’t have to work every weekend. The other vets alternated with her. Each one was on call a different night, so she didn’t have to work every night, either. Holidays were shared. It was heavenly and the odd thing was that she made just as much money as she’d made in the practice. She felt at home after just one week on the job. She decided that moving closer was a pretty safe bet, considering how well they all worked together.
She found a room in a nice, comfortable boarding house and paid a week’s rent in advance. Then she went to pack up her things and have them moved to her new home.
It didn’t take long, because she didn’t have much. She made two trips in her car and was just packing it for the third time when the telephone rang inside. It was supposed to be disconnected already, so she ignored it. The last few calls had been salespeople doing promotions. She couldn’t imagine who might be looking for her, short of her old partners. Certainly, she knew, it wouldn’t be Hank Shoeman. It had been over four and a half months and he’d surely forgotten all about her by now. She’d faced that fact, without much enthusiasm, because her memories of him were sweet.
She settled in her new apartment in the boarding house and got more comfortable in her job over the next week. She’d just finished examining and inoculating a three-month-old poodle puppy when she heard the waiting-room door open. She was alone in the office, because it was just after hours and the receptionist had gone home. Drs. Joiner and Helman were out on calls.
“I’ll only be a minute!” she called out. She finished with the poodle, assured the owner that he was in excellent health and that he’d be automatically notified when to bring the dog back for his next round of shots.
He thanked her and she smiled happily as she watched him leave. She finished writing up the chart and went out into the waiting room, hoping that it was going to be something uncomplicated so that she could go home and eat.
She opened the outer office door with her professional smile, and stopped there, frozen in place.
The man looked familiar, and not familiar. He was wearing a gray suit. His hair was conventionally cut. He had a mustache, nothing more. The rest of his lean, handsome face was clean-shaven, and except for a couple of thin scars and a crooked nose, it was an appealing face. Blue eyes twinkled out of it as he studied her in her neat white lab coat.
“Nice,” he said pleasantly. “You haven’t lost a pound, have you? And I gather that this new job doesn’t require your life’s blood.”
“Hank?” she asked uncertainly.
He nodded.
“Your hair…your beard,” she began.
“I’m changing my image,” he explained. “I’m tired of looking like a refugee from a cave.”
“You look very nice,” she said.<
br />
“So do you. How about supper?”
“There aren’t any restaurants around here,” she told him. Her heart was beating madly. “You didn’t answer my letters.”
“It’s a long story,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But for now, I’d enjoy a good meal. I’ve spent two days tracking you down and except for breakfast at the hotel and a couple of sandwiches, I’m running on empty.”
“There are lots of restaurants in Sioux City,” she said.
“Then we’ll go there. Do you need to stop by your apartment first?”
She shook her head, bemused by the sight of him. He looked unspeakably elegant and sexy. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him to forget about explanations, it was enough that he was here. But she couldn’t do it. He was probably on his way to or from Texas and had only stopped in because he wondered what had happened to her. It wasn’t a proposal or a proposition; it was just a visit. She had to remember that and not let her imagination run away with her.
She took off her lab coat and slid her arms into the deep pink cotton jacket she wore over her pale pink blouse. She took time to run a brush through her hair and refreshen her makeup before she rejoined Hank in the outer office.
“I have to lock up,” she explained, and took time to do that, too. When the lock was secure and checked, and the burglar alarm set, she walked with Hank to his car. But she stopped short when she saw it, and her uplifted face was wary and a little scared.
He reached down and took her hand, holding it tightly in his. “It’s all right,” he said gently.
The driver came around, smiling, and opened the door of the big white stretch limousine for them. Hank helped Poppy inside and slid in next to her. The driver closed them in and went around to get behind the wheel.
Hank had already told him where to go. He took off without a word, and Hank closed the curtains between front and back and turned on the interior light.