by Leanne Banks
“I take it you want to assist him into his next life,” Andie said with a snicker.
Sam’s eyes gleamed with malicious intent. “I was in the operating room. I held the knife in my hand.”
Andie made a tsking sound. “What did he do this time?”
Samantha closed her eyes as if in pain. “He forgot he was supposed to be performing an appendectomy.”
Andie winced. Dr. Kent had once been a talented general surgeon, but within the past several months he’d developed a drinking problem. “He wasn’t drunk, was he?”
Sam shook her head. “No. That’s what saved him. I think he was fighting one hell of a hangover, though.” She poured low-fat dressing on her salad. “Enough about Kent. Why are you advertising for a housekeeper?”
“I’m not, really. My new next-door neighbors need one, so I thought I’d pass the word along.” Andie reminded herself she had given in on this one because it could be accomplished from a distance.
Samantha munched on a piece of celery. “Married couple?”
“Not really,” Andie evaded. Sam was generous up to a point, but she refused to be made the fool, and it seemed to Andie that Sam had made it her mission to teach Andie how to say no. Andie wasn’t sure she could explain Eli and Fletch and what she planned to do for them, so she changed the subject to Samantha’s current flame, a resident at a different local hospital. “How’s Brad doing with those megahours he’s pulling in O.R.?”
Samantha’s lively features muted a bit. “He’s tired, but this O.R. rotation won’t last forever.” She gave Andie a shrewd glance. “Who’s your neighbor?”
Andie shrugged. “He’s some kind of research scientist. He’s got a little boy, and they seemed overwhelmed, so—”
“Oh, no.” Samantha put down her fork and shook her head. “You haven’t had them over for dinner yet, have you?”
“No, I just—”
“You didn’t offer to help out if they needed anything?”
Andie sighed in exasperation. One of the miseries of having a longtime friend was that she knew your weaknesses, and Samantha knew all about Andie’s disastrous engagement last year. “Not really. You would have been pleased. I only met Eli Masters for a few minutes, and I didn’t offer him anything. Not my food, not my vast experience with children, not my body.” Although she’d thought about that last one a few times. The invitation to the barbecue she was having tomorrow night didn’t count because it was a neighborhood affair.
Samantha gave a low whistle. “Eli Masters. Isn’t he the one who’d doing genetic research on seizure disorders?”
“I believe that’s what he said,” she said, keeping her voice v-e-r-y casual. Sam had the uncanny ability to ferret out any secrets.
Samantha nodded. “There was an article about him in the paper yesterday. The big boys at the Medical Center had to work hard to lure him down here. He’s got degrees out the wazoo and a reputation for never giving up. Even Brad knew about him.”
Although Andie stayed abreast of medical discoveries, she kept her focus on the here and now. Her job required it. When one of her young patients was struggling for his next breath, however, she couldn’t help praying for a medical miracle. She remembered Eli’s fervency when he’d told her about his research. It touched her now as it had then. “I saw the article, too. He feels very strongly about researching something worthwhile, but I think it might take him and his son a while to adjust to all the changes they’ve been through lately.”
“Changes?” Samantha’s eyebrows shot up. “This sounds like more than a five-minute conversation.”
“His little boy plays with Stud sometimes. Eli stopped by after work once.” She took a sip of her Coke. “Just neighborly conversation.”
“And Eli Masters doesn’t appeal to you in the least?”
Andie shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Uh-huh,” Samantha said, her voice brimming with disbelief. “And Mel Gibson’s a dog. I saw Eli Masters’s picture in the paper. Is he better or worse in person?”
“Both,” Andie immediately replied. “He looks like this attractive, yet calm man except for his eyes. They’re green and—” Andie waved her hand in frustration. She felt strange trying to explain Eli. “Well, it sounds silly, but his eyes remind me of liquid nitrogen. You know, if you shake it up, you better make sure you run for cover. And then, there’s his voice—”
“Oh, no.” Sam’s face was full of disapproval. “You swore that you were giving up these mercy missions. No more deadbeats who need to be rehabilitated. No more single fathers. You promised. Remember—”
“Don’t,” Andie cut in, then softened her voice. “Don’t say his name.” It was an unspoken rule between Samantha and Andie that neither brought up Paul’s name. She’d discussed her breakup ad nauseam until the time came that Andie decided the discussions weren’t helping. Some wounds just didn’t heal as quickly and cleanly as one might want them to. This was one of them. Her appetite gone, she dropped her sandwich to her tray.
She took a deep breath. “It’s true. Eli Masters needs a woman’s touch.” She held up her hand when Sam started to speak. “But I’m not going to be the one to touch him.” The announcement tripped off a restless sensation inside her, and she ignored it. “I’m having a neighborhood barbecue and I’m including Eli and his son.”
Samantha covered her face and groaned as if Andie had just confessed to committing a bank robbery.
“I’m also inviting Daphne.”
Samantha dropped her hands and went abruptly still. “Daphne the decorator?”
Andie nodded.
Samantha’s eyes lit with amusement. “Daphne the diva, who’s been divorced four times?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a—”
“Man-eater.” Andie lifted her chin. “Perfect for a man who needs a little touching, wouldn’t you say?” She felt the faintest doubt, however, buzzing inside her like a bee. “The only thing that worries me is Daphne’s steel-plated heart.”
Sam let out a whoop of laughter. “Andie, Andie, Andie. When men look at Daphne, the last thing they’re interested in is her heart.”
* * *
She wore a little skirt. A very little skirt, Eli amended. He watched in fascination as the crinkly fabric bobbed around her long slim legs while she directed, like a maestro, men operating gas grills, women piling dishes onto one of three picnic tables and a couple of kids playing tag.
Eli hated social gatherings. They required small talk, and to this day he still wondered what the hell small talk was. If it weren’t for Fletch, he would have avoided this one. Standing at the edge of Andie’s backyard with Fletch, he just looked and thanked the Lord for the latest fashion trend. It distracted him from the suspicious stares he was receiving from the neighbors.
Besides the little skirt, Andie was wearing a long sleeveless vest and Eli couldn’t help but wonder if she had on a bra, too. That skirt was driving him insane. He caught flashes of her thigh with her every movement. He’d remembered what her skin felt like long after he’d touched her the other day. He was remembering now. A surge of heat swelled in his groin and he swore under his breath. His brain had plunged into his jeans. He’d definitely been in the lab too long.
Fletcher tugged at his arm. “There’s a lot of kids here,” he said, sounding nervous.
Tearing his eyes from the skirt, Eli quickly counted the number of little people. “About twelve. Maybe you can find someone to play with, now.”
Fletch moved closer to Eli’s side. “But I don’t know any of them.”
Eli rubbed his son’s silky hair through his fingers in a comforting gesture. He could identify with what Fletch was feeling. He’d always been lousy at large gatherings. He sure as hell didn’t want that for Fletcher. Frowning, Eli spent the next full minute racking his brain for a successful way to approach a passel of new kids.
Just when he felt the edge of frustration creep in, Andie glanced up from her consultation with one of
the cooks and smiled. Eli would have sworn the sky got brighter, but he knew it was scientifically impossible.
“Hey, you guys!” She moved toward them, and Eli noticed her skirt and the legs beneath it again. “I wondered when you were finally going to get here.”
“Dad was late from work.”
Andie shook her head in commiseration. “I know. Isn’t it a pain that big people have to make money? Well, at least you’re here now. Got any dimples for me?”
Fletch grimaced to produce a dimple.
Andie laughed. She took Fletcher’s hand in one of hers and motioned Eli with the other. “Okay, come on over and meet Curtis and Jason.”
Eli watched Andie perform the introductions and noticed the hesitancy that remained on Fletch’s face.
“I’d like you to meet Mrs. Grandview. She lives on the other side of me, and if you ever need a sitter, she would—” Andie abruptly stopped. “Is something wrong?”
Eli slid his gaze away from Fletch. “I’m just watching Fletch. It’s been a while since he was around kids and he seemed a little uneasy. I want to be there if he...”
Her gaze softened. “If he needs you,” she finished for him. “Sounds like you’re catching on to this parent thing.”
Eli recalled how Fletch had cried himself to sleep last night, and how he had tried, without success, to comfort his son. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “One step forward, two steps back.”
Andie opened her mouth to comment, but a middle-aged man armed with a spatula broke in. “I’m Ben Hammond, three doors down in the blue Cape Cod. So, are you the guy they call Dr. Frankenstein?”
Andie cringed. She’d tried to do a little PR for Eli and Fletch, but the neighbors were still giving them a wide berth. “Eli is a researcher at—”
“Dr. Frankenstein was a fiction character who used dead human specimens in his experiments,” Eli interjected.
Still eyeing Eli warily, Ben lifted his head. “Yeah. So?”
“I study genetic material and chromosome abnormalities collected from blood samples. It’s a process involving X rays and hours and hours of studies that...”
Andie watched Ben’s eyes glaze over at Eli’s technical explanation of his research. When Eli finished, Ben narrowed his eyes. “I just wanna know if you use dead people for these experiments.”
Eli cocked his head to one side. “It’s possible to use blood drawn from an autopsy, but...”
Ben began to fidget.
“The lab technicians don’t haunt the morgues,” Eli said in an attempt at humor that went straight over Ben’s head. “And we haven’t robbed any graveyards lately.”
Ben paled. “Lately?”
“It’s a joke, Ben,” Andie said. “A joke.” She wondered if this barbecue was a good idea, after all. Stifling a sigh, she turned in another direction. “Look, there’s Mrs. Grandview.”
So began a seemingly endless round of introductions. Usually Eli could keep track of the names and faces with no trouble. With his attention partly focused on Fletch and partly drawn to Andie, Eli found he had to work at it.
Andie talked to everyone there, he noticed. All the neighbors seemed to like her. She was a part of them. The men joked with her. The women chatted easily with her. And the kids tried to lure her into their play.
Eli downed the rest of his canned drink and watched his new neighbors. Ben Hammond sold insurance and followed stock car races on weekends. Margie Winfree, a pencil-thin mother of five, suggested two local preschools. Eli didn’t think Fletch was ready. Off to the side a foursome of men were having an intent discussion that Eli suspected centered around golf.
For a moment, the familiar isolation seeped in again. He’d spent too much time in the lab this past year, too much time with test tubes and computers, and not enough time with human beings. He might as well be an alien.
Maybe he was expecting too much too soon, he told himself. For Fletch’s sake, he hoped the situation would change. He hoped he could help Fletch get past some of his pain and isolation. But for now, Eli felt as if he were in a foreign country.
Except with Andie.
The notion made him feel strange. Eli raked his fingers through his hair. Hell, the notion made him feel like an idiot. Dismissing it, he tossed his can in a recycle bin and checked the yard to find Fletcher playing with a little girl.
Hearing a burst of animated voices, he turned back. Andie was being urged toward him by a young woman with curly brown hair. Andie tossed a warning glance at the young woman, then turned to Eli. “Eli, this is my friend—” she lowered her voice “—and the bane of my existence, Samantha French. She read about you in the paper and wanted to meet you.”
Eli extended his hand.
“A Viking explorer,” Samantha said, her bright eyes intent and serious. She shook his hand. “Andie, you should have been able to pick up on this. His aura is so—”
“Sam,” Andie interrupted. “You promised you would leave your aura evaluation service at home. Do you know how long it took Mrs. Jeter to recover from being told she was a gunslinger in a past life?”
Samantha shrugged. “The idea behind finding out where you’ve been is so you’ll function better in your present life.”
Intrigued by Andie’s response, Eli watched her sigh in frustration as she glanced heavenward. This was an entirely different side to her.
“Stick to food and the weather,” she muttered, then turned back to Eli. “Samantha and I work together at the hospital.”
“It’s good to meet another one of Andie’s friends,” Eli said.
Samantha smiled and glanced knowingly at Andie. “You were right about the voice and eyes.”
Andie’s cheeks turned scarlet. “There are some people,” she said in the softest, most dangerous voice he’d ever heard her use, “who belong in a pit of vipers.”
Samantha gasped. “Okay, okay. I get the message. I’ll go get my hamburger.” She shot a grin at Eli. “Nice to meet you.”
Eli nodded. “And you.” He turned back to Andie. “I don’t suppose you could translate that conversation for me.”
Andie laughed. “I guess I can try. During the past year, Samantha has been on a reincarnation kick. Just recently, she has been applying it to almost everyone she meets.”
“I was a Viking explorer?”
“Of course.” Andie nodded. “But surely you already knew that,” she said, biting her lip in amusement.
“I can’t say that thought ever entered my mind.” He imagined holding a similar discussion with the men in his lab and shook his head. They would think he’d sniffed the ether bottle one too many times. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Why did she get so upset when you mentioned snakes?”
Her caramel eyes glinted with mischief. “Samantha thinks she was reincarnated from Cleopatra.”
Eli grinned slowly, appreciating Andie’s playful retribution. “That was brilliant.”
“Oh, no,” Andie demurred, shaking her head. “Just a well-developed survival instinct.”
“Who does she think you were in your past life?”
Andie shook her head, this time more vehemently. “Samantha is crazy. You can’t take her seriously. Look, everyone’s lining up for the burgers.” She gestured toward the people crowding around the grills.
His curiosity wouldn’t wait, however. Andie had a secret. His pulse thudded in his chest. It was similar to the feeling he had in the lab when he was getting close to a breakthrough. This time, the rush of discovery mingled with a lick of arousal. “Who?” he repeated.
Eli watched her face heighten with color again. “Nobody famous,” she said, dismissing his question. “Nobody you would recognize from history class. Besides, it’s not as if she’s accurate.”
Eli cocked his head to one side, focusing intently on the woman in front of him. It was rare for him to be able to read someone. He felt as if he were catching a wave of emotional vibrations from her. “You’re embarrassed. You don’t want to tell me
.”
Andie’s glance skittered away. “I’m not embarrassed,” she protested, squaring her shoulders at the same time. “It’s not that important. And the food—”
“Then tell me.”
She dampened her lips and sighed. “It’s pure fiction,” she said, her words crisp with emphasis. Her gaze finally met his again, and if her eyes could talk, they would have said, “Don’t you dare laugh.” She crossed her arms over her chest impatiently and looked away. “Sam says I was the favored courtesan of a French king.”
She said it quickly and with no inflection, but Eli’s quick, quick mind had no trouble visualizing Andie naked and hot beneath— To hell with the French king.
Naked and hot beneath him.
Chapter Three
She wondered why Eli’s silence suddenly seemed louder than her neighbors’ chatter. Determined to break the thread of tension pulling her toward him, she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “So you can see that Samantha isn’t exactly accurate. No one would picture me as the courtesan type and—” She glanced up and the smoky intensity in Eli’s eyes stalled her words.
“I’m sure,” he said in a voice that belonged in a darker, more intimate setting, “plenty of men have no problem picturing you that way.”
He left little doubt that he could picture her that way. Here was a man who wasn’t thinking of her as a pal. Was he? Her mind denied it, but her stomach twisted in feminine apprehension. The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Crazy,” she muttered, and wasn’t sure she was talking about Eli or herself. She cleared her throat. “I really need to check on the hamburger buns,” she said and abruptly turned. Andie didn’t like the speculative expression on Eli’s face. She could imagine what he was speculating, and it made her pulse race and those sirens inside her head start screaming.
The back of her neck drew into a tight knot. Flustered, she felt his footsteps directly behind hers and said a quick little prayer. Her gaze caught on a dark-haired voluptuous woman nearly spilling forth from the cups of her sundress. Muffling her chuckle of relief, Andie whispered a word of thanks, delighted with the Almighty’s sense of humor. “Daphne,” she called. “Come on over. I’m so glad you could make it.” Daphne would never know how glad.