by Carol Grace
Fortunately she had a good number of real, paying guests to keep her busy. If she hadn’t, she might have been even more lonely than she was. Missing Sam’s teasing, his questions, his recollections of the past they shared. Around the office he was scrupulously careful to avoid being thrown together with her. Even Mattie noticed.
Hayley didn’t see him in the evenings. She assumed he ate at the diner, but she didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. She would have liked to cook dinner for him, but she was afraid to suggest it. Afraid it would send the wrong signal. That she was lonely. That she wanted his company. That she missed him. That she’d made a mistake when she told him one night with him was enough.
Nine
“You and Sam getting along okay?” Mattie asked in a half whisper, giving a furtive look over her shoulder one day as Hayley came in to replace her at noon.
“Of course, why?”
“Thought you’d at least be going to lunch together, or consorting together after work.”
“Mattie,” Hayley said with a patient smile. “I knew you wouldn’t approve of anything like that.”
“When did my opinion ever stop you from doing something?”
Hayley let that go. “Besides, he’s got patients to see. I’ve got a business to run. I told you there’s nothing going on between us.”
“Why not?” the nurse asked, taking her sweater from behind her desk.
Hayley craned her neck to see if Sam was in his office or the examining room. She hoped to heaven he couldn’t hear this conversation.
“Why not?” Hayley repeated softly, dumbfounded. “You’re the one who told me he hadn’t changed. That he would be the town bad boy now and forever. You told me not to lose my heart to him. He’s only temporary, you know. He’s going to leave. Have you noticed the calendar on his wall? He puts an X through every day that passes. You know he can’t wait to leave. He’s only here because he owes it to us and to Grandpa.”
“Does that mean you can’t invite him to dinner now and again? What kind of hostess are you? I heard he eats in the diner every night. That kind of punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy,” Mattie said.
“Well then, you invite him to dinner,” Hayley said, even more astounded by Mattie’s change of attitude than she showed.
“You know he’s been treating people for nothing, don’t you?”
“He shouldn’t do that,” Hayley said.
“Only the ones who can’t pay. Who’ve been laid off at the mill or something,” Mattie said. “I thought he was a money-grubbing surgeon.”
That’s what he wants you to think, Hayley thought.
“But he isn’t,” Mattie continued. “I didn’t think he’d really changed. But he has. You could do worse, you know.”
Hayley’s mouth fell open in surprise. Mattie admitting she’d been wrong about Sam? Mattie suggesting that she and Sam— No, that couldn’t be.
There was a loud knock at the front door. Normally patients walked in, so both Hayley and Mattie went to the door and opened it. A small boy stood there holding a half crate of fresh raspberries in his arms. They invited him in, but he shook his head and stayed on the front porch.
“Is the doctor here?” he asked.
“I’ll get him,” Mattie said, and went back inside. The boy shifted from left to right foot. Hayley stood in the doorway, noting his frayed blue jeans, his faded shirt, feeling almost as awkward as he did, not knowing what to say or do.
When Sam came to the door, the boy held the box out in front of him, but didn’t meet Sam’s gaze. His ears turned pink with embarrassment. “These are for you. Thanks for patching me up.”
Sam bent down to look at his face, placing his hand under the boy’s chin. “Looks like you’re healing okay.”
“My ma is still gonna pay you,” the boy said.
Sam raised his eyebrows. “That’s not necessary. I told you you didn’t have to—” He studied the boy’s face for a long moment, then he reached for the box. “Thanks,” he said. “They look good.”
“Beautiful,” Hayley murmured. “Those would make good jam or pie.”
The boy nodded, then turned and walked away.
“You wouldn’t take his money if he handed it to you, would you, Sam?” Hayley asked.
“I’d rather have the berries. I like it that he picked them himself. It’s important for people to pay their way somehow, no matter how poor they are,” he explained.
Hayley nodded, remembering how Sam once worked for her grandfather to pay off his debt, unpacking boxes of supplies for him and thumbing through medical books when he thought no one was looking. But Grandpa was looking, and noticing. No wonder Grandpa put him through medical school. It wasn’t all charity. It was an investment in the future. An investment in Sam.
Sam handed the box to Hayley, telling her to take them home and do something with them, then he turned to Mattie. “You promised to come and see me when Hayley got here.”
“Not today, Sam, I mean Doctor Prentice. I’ve got too many errands to run.”
Sam frowned. “Tomorrow then. No more excuses.”
“What’s that all about?” Hayley asked when Mattie had picked up her purse and left for the day.
“Sorry. Doctor-patient privilege.”
“But…is this about her heart problem?”
He nodded but didn’t elaborate, and that was all she got out of him.
That night in the evening, after she’d got caught up on her bills, she made a berry pie. As she rolled out the dough for the crust she thought about Sam. What on earth did Mattie mean, “You could do worse?” As if Sam were hers for the asking. If Mattie only knew what Sam had told her. That he had no intention of marrying anyone, that he was only interested in a short-term affair, for the purpose of “getting her out of his system.” That would change Mattie’s mind in a second.
But what if it worked? What if a few months of making love with Sam really did cure her of him? Maybe he was right. Because abstinence wasn’t working at all. She thought about him day and night. She sneaked glances at him over the breakfast table, watched him walk down the street in the morning from the safety of the living room, memorized the way he walked, talked, even occasionally smiled, tilted his head. And she fantasized about waking up in the morning next to him, pulling the covers over their bodies after a night of lovemaking.
Just as she was arguing with herself over the dubious merits of his idea, she heard him come through the front door.
The sweet smell of the berry pie drew Sam to the kitchen. That and the promise of a glimpse of Hayley with her cheeks flushed from the heat of the oven. It was taking every bit of his willpower to keep his distance from her. He had suspected but he really hadn’t known how hard it was going to be to live and work with her. He racked his brain to think of reasons for staying away from her and her house. The house that reflected her warmth, her love and her generosity. The house that should be filled with a family. Her family. What kind of man had her husband been that he would turn his back on her for a cause? What kind of man wouldn’t want to have children with her?
He stood in the kitchen doorway looking at her, imagining what her children would look like, little blond imps with her blue eyes and her stubborn little chin and her determination and willpower. She looked up and smiled at him. His heart lurched in his chest. God, she was beautiful.
“Want some pie?” she asked.
“Sure.” He shouldn’t stay there in the kitchen. He ought to go upstairs. STAT. Before he said something stupid. Before he did something he’d be sorry for.
“I’ll put the coffee on,” she said.
He caught her by the arm as she turned to the stove. “Look, Hayley. I’m sorry I pressured you the other night. I had no business. You were right. One night was enough. We don’t need six months of making love to know that it’s over between us.”
She blinked. “Did I say that?”
“Something like that.”
She moistened her lips with her
tongue, and he felt a rush of desire so strong he rocked back on his heels.
“That’s funny,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I was thinking I was wrong and you were right.”
“You mean you’re not over me yet?” he asked incredulously, his heart pounding furiously, his hopes rising like phoenix out of the ashes of disappointment.
She shook her head.
“We could give it one more night, if you think that would help,” he suggested as soberly as he could, when he felt as though his chest would burst. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders, which he took to be an affirmative. Then he did it. He claimed her with a kiss. He’d told himself if he ever got another chance, he’d take it slow. But all of his plans suddenly went out the window. The thought that this was something Hayley wanted, that she’d actually, well, almost suggested, made him throw restraint out the window. It was like an aphrodisiac that he didn’t really need.
She responded to his kiss with one of her own. Then another and another. His need for her grew by the minute. The more he took, the more he wanted. The more she gave, the more desperate he was for more. Their kisses were deeper, longer, and yet never deep or long enough. He wanted to possess her. But he couldn’t. She tasted like the sweetest berries he’d eaten. And he couldn’t get enough. He never would.
With his fingers splayed across her back, he drew her close, until she was nestled against his aching erection. She moaned softly, then grabbed his hand, and they raced up the staircase to her room. The room that could only be hers, with the air redolent with the scent of the roses that grew on the trellis beneath her window, the pale, lush carpet, the small old-fashioned fireplace laid with kindling for cool-evening fires, the soft, hand-woven rug in front of it, the bed with its smooth sheets.
He’d dreamed of this room. When he was a teenager he’d imagined her in a pink room with piles of pillows. Like a picture he’d seen in a magazine. With a bulletin board holding the pictures of her friends and dried flowers that her admirers had given her. But she’d grown up. And so had her room. This was not imagination. This was real. Hayley drew the curtains and dimmed the light and, with reckless abandon, tossed her clothes on the white wicker chair at her desk. No more the shy girl he’d once known, she was a woman now, a woman who knew what she wanted. He felt the blood pound in his temples as he realized she wanted him.
He dropped his pants to the floor, then he ripped off his shirt and next his boxers. He felt her heated gaze on his body as they stood facing each other, waiting, wanting, wondering who would make the first move. She was so beautiful he couldn’t stop staring at her. He wanted to memorize the way her breasts curved upward, the way her dusky nipples peaked, the mole on her hip, the flush that spread over her pale skin as he stood staring.
Her body called to him like a siren to the ancient mariners, and he knew it was inevitable, this coming together. He’d always known it. Known that somehow, some day this would happen. It would be him and Hayley in her room, in her bed. The first time they’d almost made love was years ago in the playhouse, the first time they’d really made love, only days ago, had been a fluke. This time, this time, he would make it last. He would make it one to remember. Just in case it was the last and there were no more. The tension built, the throbbing in his temple became more intense, and he thought he might pass out before he ever made it to her big, soft bed.
She held out her arms then, and he crushed her to him, unable to wait any longer. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her arms around his neck, so her bare breasts nestled against his chest. She was breathing hard and so was he. He carried her to the bed as the breeze blew the curtains and the dull roar of the ocean faded into the distance.
This time it was Hayley who braced herself on the bed above him, her hands next to his shoulders, her eyes gleaming. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his need in check. Trying to do what he said he would do—go slow. But he didn’t know she was going to take charge.
“Hayley, for God’s sake…” he said.
“Relax, Sam,” she said, bending over to let her breasts brush against his chest, her lips trail whisper-soft kisses along the outline of his jaw.
“Relax?” he groaned. And caught her face between his broad hands to devour her mouth. No more soft kisses. These were harsh, demanding kisses, one after another. Her tongue met his in a dance of recognition, tangled with his until he was sure he couldn’t wait another minute. This was agony but it was ecstasy, too.
But she wasn’t ready for him yet. She broke the kiss and made a tour of his body with her mouth. She began at his chest where her tongue stroked one flat nipple, making him feel as if he was floating somewhere above the bed, having an out-of-body experience. How else to explain this feeling that he was on a different level of pleasure than he’d ever been on before? That he’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Hayley right now. That if he didn’t enter her in the next second he would very likely explode.
It became clear she had no intention of stopping there. She wanted him on her terms, and she wanted to take him into her mouth. Into her hot, wet mouth. He had to make her stop, and yet he didn’t want her to stop. If she did, he might die, but he would die a happy man. When she finally did stop, he entered her like a turbo charger, thrusting himself inside her at last. Until he was home, where he wanted to be, where he was meant to be. Where he burst into a thousand fragments as he shattered and called her name.
She cried out at the same time and collapsed on top of him.
They lay in her bed, perspiring, coupled together until he rolled over and covered them with her flowered sheet. Her eyes were closed, her hair curled damply on her cheek. His heart swelled. He wanted to take care of her. Though she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he had a primeval, male desire to watch over her and keep her safe.
It was a good thing he had six months to get her out of his system, because he wasn’t any closer to his goal now than he’d been the day he arrived. Would she ever cease to surprise him? Amaze him? Delight him? Would he ever be able to enjoy another woman again? Did it matter? The answer was no. He’d take whatever Hayley would give and forget about the future. The hell with other women. He would go back to work and forget other women. Maybe he would even forget Hayley. Yeah, sure.
While this impossible thought played havoc with his mind and with Hayley wrapped in his arms, he fell asleep. When he woke in the middle of the night she sighed and rubbed her cheek against his.
“Oh, Sam,” she murmured. He was instantly aroused by the smell of her hair, the touch of her skin and the swell of her breasts against his chest. Sleepily, slowly, sweetly, they made love again until he tasted, breathed and smelled nothing but her. He no longer knew where she left off and he began. He felt as though the wall around his heart was crumbling, and as a heart surgeon that was a phenomenon he was sure didn’t exist. At least, he’d never encountered it in the literature. But what else would make him feel so vulnerable, so raw inside?
In the morning he was dimly aware she was getting out of bed, going downstairs and baking something as she always did, even though he was the only guest. She was kneading the baking powder biscuits when he came downstairs. He stood in the doorway looking at her, wondering what it would be like if it lasted forever. Until he crushed that thought like an ant under the heel of his shoe.
“Hi,” she said, when she sensed his presence and looked up. She gave him a slow, sweet half smile, and desire slammed into him like a redwood tree off a logging truck. What was wrong with him? After a night of lovemaking, he was still not sated.
He stopped on the far side of the room, because if he got close to her he didn’t know what he might do. Take her back to bed was one thing that leaped to mind. But he was on his way to work. “I overslept,” he said, his voice rusty. “Got an early appointment. See you later.” He meant to walk out the door, but something drew him back. That something was Hayley. He got halfway through the living room, came back, lif
ted her up, felt her arms go around his neck and kissed her. A kiss that said he’d be back. That he wanted more and that she meant something to him.
When Hayley finally caught her breath, she went to the front door and stood in the doorway in her jeans and sweater and apron and watched him go. She pressed her fingers against her lips and tried to understand what was happening. She was falling in love with Sam again, that she knew. But what about him? She knew he’d felt something. She knew he cared about her. And she knew it was more than getting her out of his system. How much more she didn’t know. She decided she really didn’t want to know.
When the phone rang, she was hanging sheets to dry behind the house for that sunshine-fresh fragrance her guests expected. She took the portable phone from the pocket of her shirt and said, “Bancroft House.”
“Ms. Bancroft, this is Charles Ross. I saw your ad for a family practitioner on the bulletin board at my medical school.”
Hayley’s knees wobbled. Dropping the wet sheet in the grass, she staggered to the bench next to the rose garden. “Are you…did you…?”
“I just passed my boards in family practice and I’m looking for a job in a small town. Is the position still open?”
Hayley’s mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. It was the answer to her prayers. Hers and the whole town’s. But if this young man came, then Sam would have to go.
“Open? Yes, yes it is. How soon—I mean when can you be available…to come for an interview?”
“Whenever you say. I’m finished with school. I could drive up in a couple of days, be there say, Friday. Would that be convenient?”
“Yes, yes, it would.” Hayley gave him directions and invited him to spend the night at her inn, then she hung up. She stared at her mother’s rose garden for a long time. She ought to be jumping up and down with glee. She ought to be on the phone to the members of the search committee right now. She told herself she didn’t want to get their hopes up, not yet. After all, Charles might change his mind. He might hate it there. He might not be qualified. But deep down she knew he was qualified. And she knew he’d like it there. He sounded so young, so polite, so earnest. So different from Sam.