Which made her talking about it to Murphy all the more difficult to understand.
“I’ll see you tonight when I get in, Mother.”
Muttering an oath under her breath, she let the telephone receiver drop into the cradle. When she turned around, Shawna stifled a gasp, her hand flying to her chest. Damn him, what was he doing, sneaking around corners?
She glared at Murphy standing in her doorway. “You were supposed to stay put.”
He lifted his shoulders innocently, then let them drop. “Your voice carried. You sounded upset. I didn’t want my doctor getting upset. Ruins hand-to-eye coordination.” His smile slipped away as he crossed to her. “Bad news?”
“No, personal news,” she corrected, not knowing why she didn’t just tell him to butt out. She glared at the telephone. “That was my mother. She’s staying with me for a while.”
“So you mentioned.” There was a lingering aura of tension around her and an edge in her voice she was still attempting to get under control. “Don’t you get along with her?”
He was treading where he didn’t belong again. This time she was ready for him. “Don’t you know the meaning of the word ‘privacy’?”
“I know lots of meanings, but I’m also a lawyer. Very little is private as far as I’m concerned.” And he was concerned, he thought. Involved. In a very cursory fashion, he amended quickly, but still involved.
“Well, this is.” The No Trespassing sign went up, lit in six-foot klieg lights. “Now, when can I schedule you for surgery?”
She was as persistent as he was, he thought with a smile. They had more in common than she probably thought. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
The waiting room had been empty when he was finally shown to a room. It was well after twelve. Time for her to be the princess again instead of Cinderella. “Ready for lunch?”
She picked up her purse, but she had no intention of leaving with him. “I thought you were going to take me out only if you were celebrating.” She walked into the hall and he turned, ready to follow. “This isn’t exactly something a man would celebrate.”
“No, but you still have to eat.”
“You still have to eat. I have patients to visit in the hospital.” She moved past him.
Jeanne, Shawna noticed, was at her desk, pretending that she was working, but she knew the woman was absorbing all this like bread soaking up milk. Jeanne was a hopeless romantic who believed that everyone belonged paired off in twos. But she could afford to think that way. Her family was intact.
“I’ll be back at two, Jeanne.” Shawna glanced at Murphy, then walked past the front desk. “No charge for Mr. Pendleton’s visit today.” With that, she left.
* * *
Shawna stretched, attempting to loosen tightened muscles throughout her body. The last patient for the day had left ten minutes ago. The sound of the outer door opening and closing told her that Jeanne had gone home, as well. Odd that she hadn’t stopped in to say goodbye.
No doubt she probably had dairy products on her mind, Shawna thought with a smile, remembering Jeanne’s earlier complaint about one of her sons’ reports.
It was time for her to get going, as well. Shawna locked her drawer and picked up her purse. Simon McGuire usually left the clinic at six. That gave her approximately an hour to get there before he went home. Traffic permitting, she amended. She knew the doctor would remain if she was late for some reason. McGuire had been the one who had initially recruited her. The clinic was his baby and he was there as often as his schedule permitted. A widowed grandfather, he lost himself in his work.
She knew how that was.
Shawna swallowed a cry as she all but walked straight into Murphy. The man was bent on giving her a heart attack, she thought angrily.
Taking a step back, she tried to compose herself. It was beginning to become a habit around him. “What are you doing here?”
He’d passed Jeanne on his way in and she had told him that Shawna was in her office. He’d heard the woman humming to herself as she left the office. It looked as if he had gotten back just in time. Shawna was obviously on the way out. “I told you I’d get back to you.”
He was the most unorthodox man. “Does this mean you’ve decided when you want to schedule your operation?”
“No, but I did want to get back to you.” His eyes swept over her, making her warm, making her feel like something other than his doctor.
He was flirting with her again, treating his situation as if he had all the time in the world. “Murphy, this isn’t a game.”
He toyed with the tiny dangling pearl at her ear, sending it swaying. But his expression was serious. “I’m not playing games. Games are for children. We’re both the type to be up front about things.”
“You’re right, I’ll be up front,” she agreed. “Go home.”
“Up front,” he told her. “Not rude.” He took her elbow as she walked out of the office, then waited as she locked up. “I thought we could have dinner together.”
She shook her head. Heat-seeking missiles had nothing on this man. “No.”
Maybe the idea of having dinner with him was scaring her off. He wanted to spend some time with her. It didn’t matter where. “How about coffee?”
It was a short walk to the bank of elevators. Shorter when she hurried. Shawna pressed the Down button. “Only if it’s takeout and I can drink it in the car.”
The elevator arrived almost instantly and he followed her inside, pressing the button marked 1 before she could. “Whatever you say.”
He still didn’t get it, she thought. Or didn’t want to get it. “No, you don’t understand. I have to go to the clinic. It’s my shift.”
He vaguely remembered her mentioning the clinic. “Oh, the free clinic in L.A.”
She nodded. It was after hours and the parking lot was almost deserted. The only cars remaining belonged to diligent office personnel who were still somewhere in the eight-story medical building, working, attempting to catch up in a world that was moving too fast. She hurried over to her car. She recognized his two aisles over. “That’s the one.”
Murphy felt a nibble of disappointment. “Tonight?”
“Tonight.” She unlocked her door before turning around. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”
He placed his hand over hers. He still wanted to spend some time with her, and although he wouldn’t have chosen the clinic as the place to do it, maybe that was for the best. “No.”
Shawna’s eyebrows drew together into an accusing V. “No?”
“No,” he clarified, “I won’t excuse you. But I will accompany you.”
Maybe the air was a little rarefied up there where he was. “This isn’t a joyride.”
He grinned, pretending to take her literally. “All right, we can go in separate cars.”
Why she remained here arguing with him, instead of getting into her car and driving away, she didn’t know. “I have work to do.”
He understood that. But there would be moments in between when he could talk to her. Get to know her. “And I’ll watch you do it.” Needing ammunition, he sweetened the pot a little. “Don’t you want some extra time to talk me into the surgery?”
She leaned against her car and studied Murphy. “I have the feeling that no one talks you into anything.”
He grinned. She had his number, which was good. He’d meant what he’d said about not playing games. The more they knew about each other, about the way they thought, the better. That way there would be no misunderstanding, no recriminations in the end. “And the reverse is true, too.”
Shawna could literally feel time ticking away. She should have already been on the freeway, inching along to Normandy. “Meaning?”
He remained blocking her way. “No one talks me out of anything, either.”
She was getting edgy. More so because part of her was tempted to let him come along. “This is harassment, you know.”
The accusation left him unaffected. His expression so
ftened. “No, it’s not. It’s friendship.”
White flags of surrender began waving in the wind. If she didn’t say yes, she could be here all night. If she did manage to drive away now, she knew he’d only follow her. “I suppose I can’t stop you.”
“Nope.” He opened the car door for her. “And unless you want me to get involved in a car chase, you can’t elude me, either.” He grinned as he read her expression correctly. He knew she had toyed with the idea. “Call it getting to know my physician.” A little of the lightness faded. “I don’t go under the knife lightly.”
That much she believed. With a sigh Shawna relented. “All right, if you’re going to be that adamant about it, get in.” She gestured toward the passenger side. “I’ll drive you.”
He figured she could always bring him back to the lot to pick up his car. “Won you over, did I?”
“No, but as you pointed out, you’re just pigheaded enough to follow me, and you shouldn’t be driving around at night. Besides, I don’t want to be responsible for your car being stripped or stolen. We’re not exactly going to Disneyland.”
He was accompanying her this time, but all the other times she went alone. He found himself not caring for the idea. “Do you think it’s wise for you to go there alone?”
She knew he wasn’t thinking about himself. But she wasn’t his concern.
“No, not really, but then, it’s not wise for the children who live there to be there, either. And if it weren’t for the clinic, they might not get even the very basic in medical treatments. I can’t not go because of something that might happen.”
She turned on the engine and pressed down on the accelerator. She had time to make up.
He studied her rigid profile. “You can’t cure the world’s ills, Shawna.”
She knew that. “No, but I can bandage a few of them here and there. If we all did that, eventually there wouldn’t be any ills.”
She believed that, he thought. He found that rather sweet. A bit unrealistic, but sweet. And, for some reason, damn attractive. “You’re a rare lady, Shawna.”
“That’s what it says in my résumé.” She turned to him. There was still time to turn back. “Sure you want to come along?”
There was no way he was getting out of the car now. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Chapter Eight
It was a storefront building, like all the others on either side of it. The brick was faded from time and from countless washings to remove the graffiti that had a habit of reappearing like a chronic rash, an outward sign of an inward anger. Short, squat, there was little to distinguish the clinic from its brethren, except for the sign that proclaimed Normandy Street Free Clinic. That, and the patched bay window, which gave Murphy a view of the packed interior. There were more people within the clinic than seemed humanly possible.
The forty-year-old building reeked of poverty, and yet there was a telltale aura of pride about it, as well. And hope. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he understood it, understood how necessary it was to have pride, especially when everything else was stripped from you.
Shawna guided her car down a small, tight alley and then shut off the ignition. There was nowhere else for her to leave the vehicle. The first time, she had done it out of frustration, for lack of a parking space. It had turned out to be a safe place. She’d parked it here ever since.
Murphy got out just ahead of her and moved carefully toward the street. There wasn’t that much space between the vehicle and the wall.
Dusk was beginning to place a heavy hand on the streets. The air felt stagnant here, as if it were afraid to move for fear of calling attention to itself and begetting harm. There was a sense of apprehension as darkness approached. This was a tough neighborhood, a place where people struggled to survive, to make it through just one more day.
He didn’t like thinking of her coming here. It was one thing to know about where she went, another thing entirely to see it. “So, this is the clinic,” he murmured as he followed Shawna to the street entrance.
Though Murphy tried his best to hide it, Shawna detected the tinge of disapproval in his voice. She could understand his reaction. The stark contrast between where they had left and where they had arrived, all within just one hour’s drive, was a shock. She had experienced it her first time. And, to some extent, she was still affected by it every time she came here. But it just added to her determination to do whatever she could to make a difference.
“Yes.” She paused before the entrance. “Before that, it was a storefront church.” She recalled the story and held it at a distance. If she allowed things to get to her, she wouldn’t be able to function properly. And they needed her here. “The so-called Reverend who ran it was here eight months, they tell me, operating some sort of a con game, until he cheated the wrong person out of fifty dollars.”
She glanced down on the sidewalk mechanically. The blood had long since been washed away. “They found him dead in front of his door. His pockets were empty.”
She was about to push open the front door when his words stopped her. He knew she wouldn’t like hearing this, but he had to at least say it. “I don’t like your being here.”
Shawna turned very slowly and looked up at him. She had been on her own, one way or another, for most of her life. She had no idea what it felt like to be taken care of, or worried about. Her mother had been too busy and too needy to dispense any nurturing care, and what she’d had with Doug had been more of a partnership than anything else. If anything, she had been the protective one.
This was something she had no idea how to deal with, except to push it away. She felt her independence being, if not threatened, then challenged. “Since when do you think that you have anything at all to say about where I go?”
That was easy enough to answer. “Since last night.”
She hadn’t thought that he would be the possessive type. In any case, whatever type he was had nothing to do with her. She wanted to make that perfectly clear.
“Don’t misconstrue that kiss, Murphy. That just happened.”
He saw the warning signs rise in her eyes. Warning signs ten feet in height. “Yes, I know. And I can’t wait for it to happen again.” The stubborn lines between her eyebrows formed. “Don’t tell me you weren’t attracted, Shawna.”
She thought of denying it, then decided it would be useless. He wasn’t a stupid man. Another route suggested itself to her. “Ego in form today?”
“Ego has nothing to do with it. I was just as bowled over as you were.” He wanted to caress her face, to see her eyes flutter shut for just a moment. But this was entirely too public a place. “Maybe more. I’d like to follow this path that’s opened up in front of us.”
Well, she didn’t. “There’s no path. It was a crack, and it’s closed now.” Even if she had to cement it shut, she vowed silently.
Her argument left him unconvinced. “Then it needs to be opened again.”
“No,” she said quietly, “it doesn’t.”
She took a breath, aware that some of the people within the clinic had turned to look out the large window and watch, even if they couldn’t hear what was being said. She recognized several of them. A little girl in patched overalls was smiling at her.
“This isn’t going to work out,” Shawna said abruptly. “Do you want me to call you a cab so you can go home?”
“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Murphy reached around her and pushed open the door. “I’m here for the duration.”
“I was afraid of that,” Shawna muttered under her breath as she walked into the clinic.
The air conditioner, from a neighborhood appliance store that McGuire had badgered relentlessly into making the donation, was doing its best to cool the room, but it was difficult with the dense press of bodies radiating heat. Air hung like a forgotten ornament on a Christmas tree. There were mismatched chairs lined up with their backs to the bay window that looked out on a street already sinking into mournful
shadows. It was enough to make a man claustrophobic.
It was, Murphy thought, a hell of a way to spend the evening.
He was acutely aware of dozens of eyes sizing up and measuring him. No one did it so blatantly as the dark-skinned woman behind the reception desk. She could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty and had hair, he noted, that was not found anywhere in nature. It was a bright orange that, on her, somehow seemed to fit.
“Busy evening, Caro?” Shawna asked needlessly.
Caro laughed shortly. It sounded suspiciously like a snort. “You can say that again.” Caro laid down her pen and tuned out the waiting-room noise effectively. She’d been raised one of eleven. Tuning things out was second nature to her. Eyes the color of hot chocolate skimmed over Murphy very carefully. “Bring along your own bodyguard, Doctor?”
Shawna glanced at Murphy, her mind already on that coughing child seated to the left of the door. His mother was holding him protectively against her ample bosom. He was about three, she judged. And so painfully thin. “Unwillingly.”
Murphy leaned over the desk toward Caro. Her eyes were quick, sharp. And, he’d wager, missed little. There was nothing he admired more than a sharp mind.
“She’s crazy about me,” he confided to Caro in a stage whisper.
Caro laughed, making up her mind about Murphy immediately. She liked him. “If she ain’t, then she’s just plain crazy, sugar.” The warm eyes lingered over his face and torso appreciatively. “You get tired of chasing around at her heels—” she jerked a thumb at Shawna, who was already on her way to the back “—you can come chase around mine.”
Shawna glanced over her shoulder at Murphy. He was two steps behind her, but not for long. “I do believe you have a taker.”
Like the front, the hall was small, crammed, with two rooms pigeonholed on one side and matching rooms on the other. The examining rooms were to the left while the doctor’s office was on the right. Next to it was the supply room, where everything from files to morphine to coffee were kept. A minuscule bathroom, hardly deserving of the name, rounded out the area.
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