The Back-Up Plan

by Debra Webb

“No sweating, really. More like a flushed feeling. And my stomach has been a little squeamish lately,” he told her.

  Donna placed his file on the side table. This was crazy. Stop acting like an idiot, Donna. The man needs a doctor and you’re a doctor, she reminded herself.

  “Remove your shirt, please.”

  “You want me to take off my shirt?” He looked as surprised as Donna felt reluctant.

  “Yes, I do.” Donna met his gaze and tried to ignore the adrenaline rush that resulted.

  “Anything you say, Doc.” With a wide Hank Bradley grin, he unbuttoned his shirt.

  Each released button revealed more of that smooth, tanned skin. When he reached the last exposed button, he pulled the shirttail from his jeans and Donna barely contained her shiver of anticipation. She watched, enthralled, as he released the final buttons and slid the shirt over his wide shoulders, then down and off his arms.

  Donna moistened her lips and moved closer. She settled her stethoscope into place and reached out to place the contact piece against his chest. At her touch, taut muscle contracted. He groaned and shrank back from the cold metal.

  “Sorry,” she muttered and held the cold disc close to her mouth to warm it with her breath. Hank watched her intently. The air thickened with tension, making it hard to breathe.

  Donna braced for the bombardment of feelings and pressed the metal disc to his warm skin. She listened as she had thousands of times to thousands of other people. But this wasn’t other people. This was Hank Bradley. The man poised to ruin all her plans. She had planned to build a nice, quiet life for herself and her daughter. Nothing more. Why couldn’t he find some other woman to pursue so relentlessly?

  “Deep breaths, please,” she instructed.

  He complied, his chest expanding as he drew in a long, deep breath. Muscle contracted and then relaxed. She listened to the rhythmic drumming of his heart.

  Finally she pulled back and settled the stethoscope down around her neck. “Your heart sounds fine. A little rapid, but fine.” Her own blood roared in her ears as it rushed through her body, more than a little rapidly.

  “That’s a relief,” he said, smoothing a hand over his chest.

  The sight of his hand moving over his bare skin sent heat spiraling through her. Despite the tremendous time and effort she had put into ignoring men, this man had undone all that and more in just a few short days. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Want things she didn’t want to want.

  “Any shortness of breath?” she asked, her voice stilted.

  “Now that you mention it.” He rubbed his chin and seemed to consider her question. “I have noticed some difficulty breathing.”

  “Do all these symptoms occur simultaneously?” she inquired further, concerned as well as confused at this point.

  “Pretty much,” he replied as he swept that forever-errant lock of black hair from his forehead.

  “During or after exertion?” She allowed her eyes to rest on his face. Her heart skipped several beats for her trouble.

  “Neither,” he said.

  “Neither?” she parroted, confused.

  “The only time I feel like this is when I’m around you, Doc.”

  All those wayward feelings channeled into one—anger. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

  “I can’t help how I feel, Doc.” A smile that matched the heated excitement in his eyes spread across his handsome face.

  Damn that smile. She couldn’t even stay mad at him for more than a few seconds. She recognized the want in his eyes, felt the desire emanating from his body. He shifted his position, but made no move to touch her. Thank God for that. If he touched her now, she might not be able to stop herself from running her hands up and over that awesome chest...tangling her fingers in all that thick, dark hair at his nape. Stop it.

  Donna squared her shoulders and crossed her arms over her middle. “You’ve wasted my time as well as taken advantage of me professionally. I don’t consider those actions friendly or appealing.”

  “How else is a guy supposed to get close to you, Doc? You avoid me every chance you get. You rushed away last night with hardly a good-bye. And then you didn’t even come near the classroom today. What’s a guy supposed to do?”

  Donna looked him straight in the eye and lied. “You’re beating your head against a concrete wall, Hank Bradley. I’ve had to make a lot of changes in my life lately and romance is the furthest thing from my mind.” She suppressed the urge to reach up and touch her nose to see if it were growing before she lied some more. “Your persistence makes me very uncomfortable and more than a little unhappy.”

  “I thought we’d already had this conversation, Doc.” He didn’t appear put off in the least.

  “So did I. We agreed to be friends. And don’t call me doc.”

  “Friends is good, but I know you’re attracted to me,” he said, softness tempering the certainty. “I can feel it right here.” He placed his hand over his heart.

  “Attraction isn’t enough,” she countered, her eyes riveted to the spot he had just touched.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.” He slipped his shirt back on and buttoned a few buttons. “Attraction’s only the beginning.”

  What was she going to do with this man? Donna snatched up his file and made the notations regarding his heart rate. “Unless there’s something else you need to discuss, I see nothing that requires treatment.” She shot him an assessing glance. “Discounting your enlarged male ego, of course.”

  Hank’s good-natured laughter dissolved any irritation she had managed. He tucked his shirttail back into his jeans, the action sending another flare of heat searing through her.

  “Actually there is one other thing.” He straightened the collar of his shirt. “Friday night is Huntley’s homecoming game and dance. We scheduled it a little early this year so it wouldn’t interfere with the Harvest Festival. I wondered if maybe you’d consider going with me.”

  Donna dropped his file again. “Going with you?” she asked as if he had spoken in a foreign language. “Like a date?”

  Hank retrieved the file and placed it on the side table. “Exactly like a date.”

  “I’m not much of a sports fan.” Donna tried not to look as shocked as she felt. “I’m sure you can think of someone else to invite—”

  “I’m inviting you.”

  “You’re a patient. I don’t date patients.” Victory! Let him try to find a way around that. His own machinations had foiled his plan.

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” He frowned. “Consider it a community service then,” he offered, his smile returning.

  “And just how do you figure that?”

  “I’m one of the chaperones for the dance. If you come with me, then you’ll be performing a service for the school. Not to mention you’ll be handy in case there’s a medical emergency.” From the gleam of triumph in his eyes, Donna knew Hank Bradley thought he had cinched it.

  “And just what kind of medical emergency might occur at a high school dance?”

  “All kinds of things can go wrong.” His expression grew serious. “One of the girls could fall off her high heels. A guy could get whopped on the head for looking at another girl. Just think of the possibilities.”

  Donna would not allow the laughter that bubbled up into her throat to escape. The man was incorrigible. The answer could only be no. No. She couldn’t go. Wouldn’t go. “I thought we agreed to be friends and friends don’t date,” she protested.

  “Okay, so we won’t call it a date,” he offered efficiently. “We’ll call it an evening out with a friend to support the community.”

  Out of the question, she told herself. Going out with Hank Bradley bordered on insanity. “It just wouldn’t work,” she answered for lack of anything else to say.

  “I think it would work just fine. Besides, I’d really like you to go,” he coaxed, his expression all serious and needy now. “You’d have a good time.”

  Absolut
ely not—no matter how needy he looked. “I don’t do football games,” she said firmly. His hopeful expression fell.

  “How about just the dance then?”

  His resourcefulness amazed her. No. She would not go. No way. “Yes,” she responded, shaking her head from side to side as evidence that she meant what she said.

  “Yes?” He looked confused. “Or no?”

  Why on earth did she say that? She had said yes, but she had meant to say no! Her heart climbed into her throat. She couldn’t do this. “No! I meant to say no,” she blurted.

  “But you said yes.”

  It was no use. She couldn’t say no. How could he make her feel this way with merely a look or smile? Just as he had promised, the man hadn’t even touched her. He hadn’t had to—just being near him turned her to putty. “All right, all right. Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.” Somehow she knew she would regret the decision.

  “Great. I’ll meet you at the front entrance to the gym around nine.”

  “Fine,” she said, though fine didn’t begin to describe exactly what she felt right now.

  “Fine,” he echoed, a triumphant smile plastered across his handsome face.

  What was that green stuff on his jaw? Try as she might, she couldn’t continue to ignore it. “Did you have art today?” she asked with a smile that would be contained no longer.

  “As a matter of fact, we did. Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve got,” she touched the spot on his cheek wishing with all her might she hadn’t, “a little smudge of green paint here.” Donna rubbed the spot with the pad of her thumb. The feel of his skin sent shock waves rumbling through her. “It’s dry...I can’t get it off.”

  Before she could draw her hand back, he nabbed it and moved it toward his mouth. Their gazes locked as he touched his tongue to her thumb. Warm and wet, the sensation was incredibly erotic. The feel of his mouth against even that small part of her caused her breath to catch.

  “That should get it.” He moved her hand back to his jaw. When she had rubbed the paint away, he let his hand slip from hers. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Donna tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t make the transition. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She knew the symptoms, control was disintegrating.

  “I really should get back out to the lobby.” Donna backed up a step. Why were people like him born with such magnetism that everyone in their presence gravitated toward them? Being drawn to Hank felt as natural and unavoidable as breathing.

  “Oh, by the way.” He straightened and plowed a hand through his hair. “Whatever you said to Masters, you got her off my back about Stevens.” He gave Donna a lopsided grin that jangled her nerves. “I owe you one, Doc.”

  “Actually I owed you for taking care of Melissa,” Donna admitted, trying not to sound as unsteady as she felt. “Besides, I rather enjoyed watching her reaction to my opinion.”

  “A girl after my own heart,” he murmured. His voice teased, but his eyes relayed just how badly he wanted to move a step closer.

  Donna smiled and pulled the door open. She stepped back for him to pass. “Next time you drop by, Coach, make sure you actually need medical attention.” She lifted her gaze to his, hoping with all her heart that he wouldn’t linger.

  “Next time I’ll tell you about my knee injury. Maybe that way I can take off more than my shirt.” He smiled, winked, and then strode away as if he had simply said good-bye.

  Donna watched Hank Bradley leave. He had won. Her battle to maintain a platonic relationship was a lost cause. Whatever had possessed her to make her believe for one minute that she could walk away the winner from a man like him? A woman could fall in love with Hank Bradley all too easily. Women probably fell in love with him all the time.

  Complicated. That’s what Hank Bradley was. Complicated and dangerous to her self-control. Unless he grew tired of toying with her, she didn’t stand a chance.

  She could already feel herself plunging, heart first, toward disaster.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday night came way too fast. Donna was not ready. Why in heaven had she agreed to do this—this date? He could call it chaperoning all he wanted to but it was a date, pure and simple. She stamped her foot and shucked the ivory linen dress. Eight thirty and she still couldn’t decide what to wear. Nothing looked right! Melissa watched from her perch on the dresser. Donna smiled at the child’s serious gaze.

  “I like the red one, Mommy,” Melissa announced with a wave of her faery wand.

  Patty had suggested the red dress, too. With her sister’s help, Donna had maxed out her already stressed credit card at the Ladies’ Boutique in Winchester. Whatever she didn’t wear tonight would have to go back tomorrow.

  “But it’s so red.” Donna groaned. She picked up the red dress once more. The shimmering silk felt exquisitely feminine. She swallowed back the old insecurities niggling at her. Could she really do this?

  “I like it best. Red’s my new favorite color,” Melissa informed her.

  “What the heck,” Donna muttered. She wiggled into the red dress, slipped on the matching red heels and stood back to view the fit in the full-length mirror.

  Too clingy and too short—a whole four inches above her knees. She never wore stuff like this. Donna studied her reflection. The three-quarter sleeves and scooped neck weren’t so bad, but the overall look was too something. Too...too sexy. Lord, she had never thought of herself as sexy. But she was—or at least she looked that way in this particular dress.

  Nothing wrong with looking feminine and…conservatively sexy.

  Donna smoothed her hands over her hips and then tugged at the hemline. She twisted to get a look at her backside. She did look good in this dress. Did she dare wear it? She sighed. Maybe she should just stay home.

  “You look pretty, Mommy.” Melissa raised her night shirt and dusted her belly with lilac-scented body powder.

  “God, this hair.” Donna twisted the tendrils that had slipped loose from her looked-so-elegant-on-everyone-else upsweep. Too late to plug in the curling iron. She’d just have to live with the hairdo. But what about the rest?

  The diamond earrings Patty had given her as a graduation gift sparkled on her earlobes. The earrings were the only part of what she saw that felt comfortable.

  The red dress had to go. She surveyed the tangled dresses strewn across her bed.

  The old Seth Thomas clock on the wall chimed. Quarter of nine. Her stomach knotted with anxiety. She wished with all her heart she hadn’t said yes to this date—or whatever it was. She had spent every waking minute since trying to figure out this thing between her and Hank. But no answer had come.

  A soft knock sounded at her bedroom door. “Dr. Jacobs,” the sitter called out.

  “Come in, Erica, it’s open.” Donna picked up the green dress. Did she have time to change one more time? At least the green dress didn’t fit quite so snugly. Maybe she would get Erica’s opinion.

  “Wow!” Erica’s eyes went wide. “You look amazing. Coach is gonna flip his sh—” her eyes went wide as she glanced at Melissa “when he sees you.”

  Oh, no, Donna groaned inwardly. She didn’t want him to flip anything. She wanted him to...to—she didn’t want him to do anything.

  “I was thinking of changing to the green one.” She held the green dress against her.

  “No way,” Erica protested. “The red is hot. Besides, you don’t have time to change.” She tapped her watch. “The game’s over by now. The dance’ll start in a few minutes.”

  Donna frowned at her reflection and considered Erica’s advice. She turned back to the young girl. “Why aren’t you going to the dance?” Why would such a pretty girl be babysitting on homecoming night?

  “Erica’s having a party with me,” Melissa interjected as she powdered her cheeks.

  Erica smiled at Melissa and then her expression dimmed. “My boyfriend’s out of town with his folks.”

  “Oh.” Donna dropped the gre
en dress back on the bed. “Sorry.”

  “He’ll be back on Sunday.” Her cheerful, sixteen-year-old smile returned and then she frowned. “You really gotta go, Dr. Jacobs.”

  Donna peered at her reflection once more. “So you really think I should wear this?”

  “It’s awesome, Dr. Jacobs,” she urged. “Besides, you’ll fit right in. All the girls’ll be wearing stuff like that.”

  “But what about the chaperones?” Donna’s anxiety level rushed toward panic now. “Will they be wearing stuff like this?”

  Erica twisted a strand of her long blonde hair. “Most of ’em don’t have the body for it, but Ms. Masters will wear something exactly like that.”

  Like lightening, a jolt of jealousy struck. The image of Cynthia Masters gliding across the dance floor in a skin-tight, thigh-length dress sent Donna’s blood pressure through the roof.

  “Okay, you and Melissa win.” Donna snatched up the matching red clutch purse and stuffed necessities into it. For some ridiculous reason she had no intention of being out done by Cynthia Masters.

  “All right,” Erica cheered. Melissa clapped in exuberant agreement.

  Donna tucked the purse under her arm and checked Melissa’s hands for traces of white body powder. “Bedtime, sweetie,” Donna told her child as she dusted Melissa off enough so she could pick her up without getting body powder on her red dress.

  “But, Mommy,” Melissa protested as Donna carried her to her room. “I’m having a party with Erica.”

  Donna moved aside the array of stuffed animals and pulled the covers back. She deposited Melissa onto the bed and gave her a firm look. “It’s past your bedtime now, Melissa Jacobs.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” Donna tucked the thin blanket up around Melissa’s neck. “You promised if I let you watch me get ready you’d go straight to sleep afterwards.”

  “Okay,” Melissa sighed, her lids heavy already. Her blue eyes suddenly shot wide open. “Are you gonna kiss Mr. Hank?”

  “What?” Donna asked in disbelief.

  “Candi Johnson says that’s what grown-ups do when they go on dates.”