"Neither was I," he said as he eased into his first steps. "But I can hold my own, so relax and don't worry about how long it's been. Dancing is like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget."
She stepped on his foot. "I'm not so sure about that," she apologized.
"You're entitled to have a little rust around the edges, but we'll brush it off in short order. Just feel the music and let me do the work."
She wanted to protest that she was more aware of him than the music, but as he continued to lead in a basic three-step pattern, Claire slowly found her dancing feet. By the next number she'd loosened up and before she knew it, she was floating across the floor, certain her happiness kept her feet from touching the ground.
Suit jackets and ties gradually disappeared. Men unbuttoned their collars and rolled their sleeves to their elbows while the women discarded their shawls and heels. To Claire, Alex looked devilishly handsome in his casually worn dress clothes and more often than not, she wondered if she'd walked into the middle of Cinderella's fairy-tale.
The slow tunes became her favorites and she counted the moments from the end of one to the start of another. With each, he guided her through the crowd as effortlessly as if she were a part of himself. She grew warmer as the night wore on and while his body heat was a contributing factor, her rising temperature seemed to come more from within rather than without.
When Alex led her off the dance floor and into a private side room, she followed willingly. When he pulled her back into his embrace, she went gratefully. And when he lowered his mouth to hers, she accepted him greedily.
A cleansing shower of sensations washed over her. The feel of his hard body under her hands and his unique masculine scent became indelibly marked in her mind as he trailed kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat.
"If this is a dream...." she murmured, stopping because it took too much energy to talk.
"It isn't."
"I don't want it to end."
"It won't."
The dance number ended and she dimly heard a man announce a brief intermission.
"We'd better go back," he muttered before he captured her mouth again.
When she came up for air, she answered. "We should. Everyone will wonder where we are."
"Yeah." Alex continued to hold her and she wasn't in any hurry to leave the haven of his arms.
"What if they look for us?" she asked.
"They won't."
"You sound certain."
With Claire's head tucked under his chin, his chest rumbled with laughter and his voice carried a happy lilt."They know better," he said. "In fact, they probably assume we took our party elsewhere."
"My purse is still at the table."
He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Women and their purses."
"Your jacket is there, too," she reminded him.
"We'll go back," he said, sounding like a little boy who was doing something under duress. "In a minute."
His kiss was infinitely tender and so full of promise that her knees buckled. He hauled her closer, until she felt every wrinkle in his trousers and every button on his shirt.
His rakish grin warmed her heart when he finally, reluctantly released her. "I should take a stroll around the building to cool off."
"We could," she suggested. "But it might be tough to explain how we both contracted pneumonia."
He laughed aloud. "That it would."
While Alex went to refill their glasses, Claire detoured to the ladies' room and could hardly believe she was the person in the mirror with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.
A matronly, gray-haired woman at the next basin smiled at her. "Having a good time?"
Claire blushed. "Yes."
She dug in her beaded bag and held out her compact. "You look like you could use a little of this."
"Thanks." Claire brushed a dusting of powder across her cheekbones, toning the bright rosiness to a soft glow. Nothing, however, could dim the brilliance in her eyes.
The woman patted her arm. "You look wonderful. With the lights down low, you'll look like you've simply been dancing too much."
If a complete stranger could tell she'd been thoroughly kissed, how could she face Nora and Alex's colleagues?
The woman winked. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, my dear."
Fortunately for her, Eric and Jody arrived at their table at the same time she did, effectively stealing the limelight with Eric's announcement.
"We're getting married."
"Congratulations," everyone echoed. "When's the wedding?"
"Next month," Eric answered. "And you're all invited."
The band struck up another tune and couples slowly returned to the dance floor. The final hour passed by all too quickly and soon Alex ushered Claire to the door. Between her form-fitting skirt and the high step to climb into his car, she needed a boost to get inside—a boost that he seemed quite happy to give.
"Did you have a good time?" he asked as he threaded his vehicle into the line of cars exiting the grounds.
She leaned her head against the neck rest. "The best."
"I wish I'd done one thing differently, though."
"What?"
He grinned. "Hired someone other than my mother to babysit."
To Claire, it only proved how they both were out of practice when it came to dating strategies. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Their relationship seemed to have progressed at light speed and it wouldn't hurt to approach the next phase with caution. "To be honest, I didn't know what to expect this evening. It turned out much better than I'd imagined."
"Hmm. I must have a more vivid imagination than you do."
"Really? You thought we'd win the grand prize and spend more time on the dance floor than anyone?''
"The prize was the icing on the cake. As for the rest, I'd hoped."
Alex may not have planned the babysitting option to accommodate the possibilities, but he'd certainly been a step ahead of her in regard to the party. She'd simply wanted to enjoy the company, the food and the music. In the end, she'd received more than she'd bargained for or dreamed possible.
"Next time, we'll plan certain aspects of the evening more carefully," he added as he reached out and held her hand in her lap.
Next time. She could hardly wait.
The sight of Alex on Monday brought Saturday night's party back into sharp focus. Instead of seeing him as he was at the moment—a physician wearing a nondescript lab coat—it was far too easy to remember him as her handsome date.
At odd times, Claire would ask Alex a professional question or clarify an order, and a lazy smile would appear on his face as if he, too, couldn't always concentrate on his work.
As the hours went by, the reality of a full patient load soon caused the weekend's memory to fade into the background.
"Did you ever return Dr Jensen's phone call?" she asked him midway through the afternoon.
He snapped his fingers. "I forgot. I'll do that right now. Who's waiting?"
"Rick Morris and Doris O'Brien. Give me a few minutes to settle them."
"I'll hurry," he promised before she called for Mrs O'Brien.
"Dr Ridgeway has to prescribe something else for my cholesterol," she said the moment she saw Claire. "Those pills I'm taking are making me sick to my stomach."
"Didn't he change your prescription the last time you came in?"
Doris nodded. "And the time before that, but I'm telling you, I'd rather die of heart disease than feel like I do now. Not only am I nauseous, but I'm exhausted all the time."
Claire scribbled her complaints on her form. "All right. He'll be in to see you shortly."
She showed Rick and his wife to the nearest room to save him a few painful steps, but he clearly wasn't happy to be there and didn't hesitate to show it.
"I don't know why he just couldn't give me the results over the phone," he groused. "Everybody else I know talks to their doctors without having to pay for an office call."
"He must have thoug
ht it was important," Joyce commented.
Rick scoffed. "He wants to earn a living, but I can't because I'm losing an entire afternoon of work."
"Doctor thought it would be better to discuss your lab results in person," Claire said calmly, noting his blood pressure was higher than before.
"Then where the hell is he?"
"He'll be in as soon as he can." She opened the door and, as if on cue, Alex strode in.
"Good news," he said as he opened Rick's chart. "I believe we've discovered why you have that pins-and-needles feeling in your hands and feet."
Rick's sour expression turned to one of interest. "Oh, yeah?"
"According to the lab reports, you're extremely low in vitamin B12 and your red blood cells show it. In short, you have a form of anemia."
"Is that all? A few vitamins and I'll be as good as new?"
"Not quite," Alex said. "Vitamin B12 is given through injections and your deficiency is causing your neurological problems. However, giving you injections at this point wouldn't be in your best interests. We need to find out why your B12 level is low."
"I suppose you want to run more tests."
"A few. I also would recommend that you see a gastroenterologist—a physician who specializes in diseases of the stomach and intestinal tract. If we don't discover the cause, we'll only be treating your symptoms."
"What are some things that could be wrong with him?" Joyce asked.
"It could be a variety of things. You see, B12 is found in meat, animal protein and legumes. The stomach has certain cells that produce what we call intrinsic factor, which is necessary to transport the vitamin through the intestine. In the majority of cases of pernicious anemia, which is what we label a vitamin B12 deficiency, the most common cause is that the stomach mucosa doesn't secrete enough of this factor to carry all of the vitamin that the body needs. As a result, you become deficient."
"So just prescribe stomach medicine," Rick said.
"Again, we need to know why this has happened in order to treat you properly. The problem may not even be in your stomach. It could lie in your intestine and be caused by anything from a malignancy to a tapeworm. Dietary factors might also be a consideration."
"I eat plenty of meat, so you can rule that out," Rick said.
Joyce spoke up again. "It could be cancer?"
"It's a possibility we can't ignore," Alex said.
"I'm not going to any more doctors and having any more tests. You can pad someone else's bill, but not mine." Rick folded his beefy arms across his chest. "Just start me on these shots and we'll call it good."
Alex shook his head. "I wouldn't be practicing good medicine if I didn't rule out the conditions I mentioned. What benefit would you receive if I gave you vitamin B12 and let a cancer go untreated?"
Rick rose. "It's not cancer. I'd know if it was."
"Most people don't. I would highly recommend a stomach endoscopy, at the very least."
"Sorry, Doc. You're barking up the wrong tree. I'm not going through more tests."
"These aren't painful procedures. With medication—"
"My answer's no. You can't force me to do tests I don't want."
"No, I can't."
"And I don't think I have this anemia stuff either. One of the guys at work had a pinched nerve in his back and he had the same problem.''
"Our 'tests indicate otherwise.''
"Bah! They're wrong. I'm not going for more tests and I'm certainly not coming in for shots for the rest of my life."
"The weakness in your hands and feet will only get worse," Alex warned. "Your sense of touch will become impaired, you'll lose your reflexes and will probably notice your mental state will deteriorate, too. Irritability, mild depression and paranoia may develop. But again, without the proper tests, we're only treating the symptoms and not the cause."
"We'll talk it over," Joyce interrupted.
"There's nothing to talk over. I've already decided," Rick stated in a near growl.
"If you should change your mind, call Claire and we'll set up an appointment with the specialist," Alex said.
Rick snorted. "I'm not changing my mind," he said, before he stormed from the room.
Joyce stopped at the door. "What other tests would you recommend?"
"The GI specialist will probably perform an upper GI endoscopy, a gastric analysis, a Schilling test and, quite possibly, a colonoscopy. All of those procedures can be done in either the doctor's office or as a hospital outpatient."
She nodded. "Thanks for the information. That might help."
As soon as she'd left, Claire asked, "Do you think he'll listen to her?"
"Probably not."
"I wonder why he doesn't want to know exactly what's wrong with him? Wouldn't you feel better if you knew the cause, or at least had ruled out the worst possibilities?"
"To some people, ignorance is bliss."
"I suppose. But what if we find out later he has cancer of the stomach or colon? He could sue us for malpractice."
"He could," Alex admitted, "but if he refuses my recommended treatment and I have witnesses, he won't get far. By the way, Susan Jensen found a tumor in Victor Kohls's colon. She's taking him to surgery on Thursday."
"Is it malignant?"
"She doesn't have the path report yet, but she's ninety-nine per cent certain it is."
"Poor man."
"Yeah, but if they caught it in time, he'll still have a lot of good years left."
"I'm glad. He seems like a nice old man."
He glanced at his watch, then frowned. "Is it only four o'clock?"
"Your watch has stopped again. When are you going to break down and buy a new one?"
"I've told you, when I find a basic, old-fashioned watch. They all have so many bells and whistles that you need a physics degree just to tell the time."
"You always say that. They aren't that bad."
"They are," he insisted. "So what time is it?"
Claire checked her own trusty watch. "A few minutes before five."
His face brightened. "Dare I hope that we've cleared out the waiting room?"
"If you saw Doris O'Brien, yes, we have."
"I took care of her before Rick."
"Did you change her cholesterol medication?"
"Yeah, but I'm running out of options."
"Could it be psychological?"
"Anything's possible, but if she doesn't want to modify her diet then she'll have to take the tablets, even if she doesn't like the way they make her feel. That's the problem today. Everyone wants a pill so they don't have to make a lifestyle change, and the drug companies love it."
"Now you're sounding like Rick," she teased.
Alex grinned. "I am, aren't I?" He grabbed her hands and drew her close. "How would you and Joshua like to drive around town this evening and check out the lights in the park?"
"I'd love to," she said simply.
Ten minutes before Alex and Jennie were due to arrive for their planned excursion, Claire's phone rang. Irritated by the interruption—she wanted to finish washing the dinner dishes and slip on their coats before Alex drove onto the driveway—she dried her hands and snatched up the cordless extension.
"Hello."
"Hello, Claire. Have we caught you at a bad time?"
Recognizing the voice of Ray's mother, Marion, Claire knew this conversation would take longer than a telemarketer's spiel. Bowing to the inevitable, she softened her tone as she went to the front door to unlock it for Alex.
"Not really," she answered. "I'm trying to clear away our dinner so we can check out the lights in the park before Joshua's bedtime."
"You're taking him to see the lights?" Marion's voice was cool.
Aware of Marion's views about Christmas, Claire minimized their upcoming excursion. "The children at his sitter's are always talking about the park display, so I thought it would be a nice outing for us. Regardless, it's always good to hear from you. How is Leroy?"
Her ploy to chan
ge the subject worked because Marion replied with, "The usual aches and pains from growing older. How's my grandson?"
Claire glanced through the doorway to see Joshua happily dividing his attention between his cars and the twinkling lights of their tree. "Great. He's really enjoying our tree."
The pregnant pause made her realize her second mistake.
"You have a Christmas tree?"
The horror in her mother-in-law's voice was obvious. "It's just a small one," Claire hurried to explain. "A friend gave it to us. Actually, he gave it to Joshua."
"Humph." Marion's disgust came through clearly over the phone line. "If you have a tree, I suppose you've been jumping into all of the holiday fanfare, too."
The guilt Claire had put behind her now struck with full force under Marion's scathing tone, but she struggled to hold it at bay as she returned to the " kitchen. Tucking the phone under one ear, she returned to her dishes. "A small tree and one office party doesn't mean a lot of fanfare."
"How you can party during this time of year is beyond me. Have you forgotten Ray to the point that you can celebrate so soon after his death?"
She forced her voice to sound even. "It's been three years, Marion. Josh's entire lifetime." She didn't realize until she'd spoken that she'd used Alex's nickname for her son. "As I said earlier, one office gathering can't be considered a celebration."
"Humph."
Although she knew she'd never convince Marion otherwise, she felt compelled to try. "Christmas isn't about Ray or his death. It's about something much bigger."
"Well," Marion retorted, "if that's the way you feel, then fine. If you want to forget Ray, go ahead, but I never thought I'd see this day with my own two eyes. How my son's own wife could do such a thing is beyond my comprehension."
Tears burned Claire's throat and a pang shot through in her chest. All thoughts of dishes in the cooling water faded and she abandoned them to soak. "I won't forget Ray," she said flatly as she sank onto a kitchen chair. "Ever. How could I?"
Movement in one corner of her eye caught her attention and she was horrified to see Alex standing silently in the doorway, his expression impassive.
Never had she felt the clash between her old life and her new one so strongly.
"I don't suppose there's any point in inviting you and Joshua to join us at our annual weekend getaway,'' Marion continued in her sharp tone.
A Very Special Christmas Page 12