Not This Guy!

by Glenda Sanders

  He took the liberty of putting his hand on the small of her back as they walked back to the booth. If he’d overstepped any boundaries, she showed no sign of it. If anything, she moved closer to him. Her leg brushed against his as she moved, and her shoulder lightly touched his chest from time to time.

  Definitely interested, Mike thought. He’d wait a couple of days, then give her a call and suggest something a couple of weekends away. He’d check the calendar section of the newspaper and see if there was anything artsy going on.

  His mental vision of the two of them dressed to the nines and going into a concert hall was shattered abruptly when he caught a glimpse of a woman disappearing into the discount store they were passing. A woman with dark, shoulder-length hair. A woman about the same height as Mrs. Winters. A woman with the same physical proportions as Mrs. Winters.

  Mrs. Winters. He was ninety-nine percent sure. Ninety-nine point nine. He could tell by the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw her. By the way just a glimpse of her was enough to distract him from the woman upon whom he ought to be concentrating his full attention.

  Well, he was not so easily distracted! To prove it, he pressed his palm a little more firmly into the curve of Ms. Curry’s back and consciously took note of how good body-warmed silk felt under a man’s hand.

  The volunteers were approaching from the opposite direction when they reached the booth. Ms. Curry consulted her watch again. “Great. Two minutes early. If we don’t hit any traffic, we’ll make the last station right on time.”

  She shook hands with each of the volunteers before they returned to their respective jobs, then focused her full attention on Mike as their hands entwined. The message in her eyes could not be misinterpreted: “I want to know you much better.”

  Mike smiled a promise that he’d see to it that she did.

  He watched her lead her band of volunteers through the parking lot, admiring the way she moved. Wednesday, he thought. Definitely Wednesday.

  “Dr. Calder?” It was the nurse. “The line’s backing up.”

  “Bring on the next patient!” Mike said enthusiastically.

  The next patient was a mutt of indistinguishable breed. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?” Mike asked.

  “It’s Charlie,” his owner said. He was a boy about ten years old, with freckled cheeks and a flattop haircut.

  Mike filled the syringe the nurse handed him and pinched up some skin on the animal’s body. The boy’s grimace was almost comical as Mike prepared to inject the vaccine.

  Just like Lily.

  Mike clenched his jaw and gave the dog the shot. He wasn’t going to get attached to Lily. He wouldn’t let her melt his heart with those big, serious eyes of hers any more than he was going to be drawn in by her mother’s...turkey tetrazzini.

  The line tapered off in midafternoon and attendance became sporadic after that. He was chatting with the volunteers during an interval of inactivity, when he caught sight of a familiar figure sifting through the import-store items displayed on the tables next door: Mrs. Turkey Tetrazzini herself.

  He decided to ignore her, unless she spied him and spoke to him first. But despite his resolve, he continued to watch her compare price tags on wicker planters of various sizes, until an elderly gentlemen brought his Pomeranian to the booth.

  The dog was old but healthy and alert. Her coat was shiny and thick and it was obvious that she was brushed regularly.

  “Who have we here?” Mike inquired genially, stroking the peppy little dog.

  “What?” the old gentleman bellowed, cupping his ear with his hand. “Speak up!”

  “I said—” Mike raised his voice to accommodate the man’s near deafness “—she’s a fine little dog. What’s her name?”

  “Fiji,” shouted the man. “Like the island... My wife’s dog... She’s been dead two years.”

  “That’s too bad,” Mike said, preparing the syringe.

  “Speak up! I can’t hear you!”

  Mike looked the man squarely in the face and said loudly, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  “My wife?” the man responded at rock-concert volume. “My wife’s not here. She died two years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mike shouted back, aware that almost everyone in the county was listening to the exchange.

  A quick cut of his eyes toward the import store confirmed that the one particular everyone he was primarily concerned with, the everyone he was ignoring unless fate forced him to do otherwise, was, indeed, listening. Catching him looking at her, she grinned and lifted one shoulder in a sympathetic shrug.

  Mike returned to the job at hand and vaccinated Fiji. Fiji’s owner scooped the dog into his arms, accepted the collar tag and screamed a thank-you.

  “Poor man,” said the woman tending the paperwork.

  “Bad batteries,” the nurse said. “He probably lives alone and doesn’t realize they’re so weak.” She left the booth and ran to catch up with him, tapping him on the shoulder. She gestured to her ear. “Sir, you need new batteries.”

  “What’s that you say?” he roared.

  “Fresh batteries,” she shouted.

  Finally, comprehension dawned. “Have I been talking too loud?” he asked, looking abashed.

  She nodded. “We’ll watch your dog while you go get them.”

  “You’ll watch Fiji?”

  Again she nodded.

  “Nurse mode,” Emma’s husband observed fondly as she took the Pomeranian into her arms.

  She returned to the booth and everyone fussed over the little dog, who didn’t appear to hold a grudge over having been poked by a needle earlier.

  Mrs. Winters had moved on to a table on the far side of the import shop door and was rummaging through a potpourri of small novelty items in a bargain basket.

  If he didn’t do something to stop her, she was going to leave. All notion of ignoring her evaporated.

  “You want to hold Fiji, Dr. Calder?” asked the nurse.

  “Uh...yes...sure. In fact...there’s someone I’d like to show her to.” He’d learned during his teen years that nothing was more irresistible to a female than something cute and fuzzy and little. “I’ll be within sight, right over there. If we get any animals to vaccinate, give me a holler.”

  Nestling the dog in the crook of his arm, he strolled over to Mrs. Winters and waited for her to notice him. Smiling, she put down the napkin ring she’d been pricing. “Who’s your friend?” she asked.

  “This is Fiji. We’re dog-sitting while his daddy shops for batteries for his hearing aid.”

  She raised her hand to pat the dog’s head, but hesitated. “Is she friendly?”

  “I think she’d tolerate a little attention.”

  Fiji got more than a little attention as Mrs. Winters stroked and kneaded the dog’s head with her fingertips. Mike could have tolerated a little of the same. He could have endured a lot of it, as a matter of fact.

  “You...uh, you’re giving rabies shots today?”

  “My civic duty,” he said. “How about you? Are you keeping the economy healthy by supporting the local merchants?”

  She sighed dismally and lowered her eyes. “I seem to be supporting some of them a lot more than I’d like to lately.”

  “Major purchase?” he asked curiously.

  “Tires last month.” Her gaze lifted to his. “You know all about that. And this week my washer decided to go on the blink.”

  “You’re shopping for a washing machine?”

  “Was shopping for one. I bought one. There was a sale on at Fred’s Furniture and Appliances.” She managed to make a frown sexy. “You’d think there would be some joy in spending so much money, instead of—”

  Mike couldn’t remember when he’d wanted to kiss a woman so badly. He could almost taste the need, it was so intense. But if Mrs. Winters was suffering the same desperate longing, she showed no sign of it.

  “The worst part,” she said, “is that by the time I get it installed on Thursday, I
’ll be a week behind in the laundry.”

  “Thursday? Why wait until Thursday?” Mike asked.

  “That’s the day the store delivers to my zip code,” Mrs. Winters said, frowning again.

  “You’re having the machine delivered? I thought they charged an arm and a leg for that.”

  “An arm at least,” she agreed. “And I’ll probably wind up taking half a day off from work to let the deliveryman in, but I have to have a washing machine, and even if I had a truck, I couldn’t get the washer into the house by myself.”

  Don’t say it! he told himself. Don’t offer. You’re falling into the same old trap. Her problems are no concern of yours. She bought a washing machine and she’s having it delivered. Leave it at that.

  “I have my van here,” he said. “If you don’t mind waiting until I’m finished at the booth, I could get your washer into your house for you.”

  “You can’t—” She gasped. Color rose in her cheeks. “I couldn’t...you’re always—” She stopped and started anew, stronger. “They’re going to deliver it Thursday.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said. And he didn’t—didn’t mind hauling the washing machine, that is. What he minded was getting involved with someone who needed to avoid the delivery charges. “Really. It wouldn’t even take half an hour for me to drop it off and hook it up.”

  She was frowning that sexy frown again.

  “You don’t want to have to wait until Thursday to do laundry and miss a day of work,” he cajoled.

  He could see her concentration in the small lines that appeared in her forehead as she considered the situation. She was thinking hard, weighing the pros and cons. “I don’t even know if the store has one in stock. They’re probably delivering out of a warehouse,” she said.

  “We won’t be closing for another two hours. Why don’t you check with the salesman? If they have one available, you can come by the table and tell me.”

  Intent on watching her face, he was surprised by a tap on the shoulder. “Dr. Calder?”

  It was one of the volunteers. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve got some patients waiting.”

  “I’m on my way.” Pausing for one parting glimpse of Mrs. Winters, he told her, “Check it out and let me know.”

  She nodded, but as he returned to the booth and gave Fiji back to her owner, he would have been willing to bet that Mrs. Winters wouldn’t venture within a hundred yards of him if she could avoid it.

  Good! He was glad. He really was. Just as he was glad that a woman had brought in her seven cats for vaccinations so that he would have something to think about besides Mrs. Winters and her washing machine.

  Seven cats in a strange environment about to be stuck with a needle by a total stranger could make a man forget just about anything.

  * * *

  ANGELINA DIDN’T HAVE cats to distract her. Fleeing the scene of her encounter with the veterinarian, she decided to indulge in a soft pretzel and a soda at the snack bar near the appliance store where she’d bought the washing machine. Since it was something she and Lily usually did when they were at this shopping center, the pretzel break only made her lonesome for Lily, who was spending the weekend with her father. Her father, his new wife, his new wife’s kids and his newborn son, to be exact. Lily had dreaded going, and tomorrow she’d come home more confused than ever about what her role was in her father’s life.

  Well done, Thomas, Angelina thought with a scowl. You couldn’t have done a better job of creating mayhem in your daughter’s life if you’d sat down and plotted it. Wasn’t it enough to make a mockery of our marriage and all the plans we’d made together?

  She was not going to think about Thomas! There was nothing to be gained from stewing over things she couldn’t change. She’d stew over something more immediate. Like the way her body seemed to turn into a mass of exposed nerve endings every time she got near the good Dr. Calder. Or why his green eyes got to her. Or why she kept noticing his hands. She didn’t go around noticing men’s hands. But his were so...nice. Strong. Gentle. Competent.

  Listen to yourself! she chided. Gad, she was obsessing over him like a teenager.

  She pondered the phenomenon while slowly devouring her pretzel. Maybe she was going through a second adolescence. Maybe, because her relationship with Thomas had died, she had to start all over with the man-woman thing. For almost two years she’d been pretty much oblivious to men. Then she’d begun to feel the physical deprivation of not having a man in her life.

  At first, it was just the closeness, the warmth of cuddling on a cool night, the security of strong arms around her. Then came the tension. The unappeased yearning. The tossing and turning at night, remembering, feeling the emptiness beside her, the emptiness inside her.

  Still, while she was thinking about a man, she hadn’t been interested in any man. Her friends had told her she should be dating. She’d allowed them to arrange a blind date or two. She’d enjoyed the company, the adult conversation, the sound of an adult male voice. But she hadn’t felt the magic, the unpredictable chemical attraction, the sexual zing.

  Until the veterinarian had come into her house, sounding like a man, smelling like a man and looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he’s thinking of in a sexual way—making her feel female and desirable. Making her look at him in a sexual way. Reminding her, simply by being there and being virile, how long it had been since she’d been with a man.

  He’d almost kissed her. She was sure he’d been considering it. And then—nothing. No call. No further contact at all, unless she counted the postcard reminding that it was time for Princess to have the next in her series of shots.

  Angelina wasn’t inclined to count the postcard. So, judiciously, she’d avoided seeing him. Or tried to. But she’d seen him, anyway, and it had been the same thing all over: the strong awareness of him as a man, the chemical attraction, the tension.

  The hope, the waiting, the disappointment, she added humorlessly. If there was anything she didn’t need complicating her life, it was a man who made her feel the way Dr. Calder made her feel—especially when he remained oblivious to his effect on her. She was nothing but a...a...charity case to him.

  The tire. Lily’s books. The new puppy special for poverty-stricken single mothers with bald tires. The washing machine—

  Imagine him offering to haul her washing machine home and install it to save her the delivery fee!

  Bracing her elbow on the table, she rested her chin on her fist. He was just...so...nice! As she saw it, it was his most dangerous trait. If he weren’t truly nice, she could dislike him, and if she disliked him, she might not be so attracted to him. Of course, he’d still have those green eyes. And those hands—

  She exhaled a languid sigh. Too bad she couldn’t take him up on the offer about the washing machine. She couldn’t afford the washer, much less the thirty dollars tacked on for delivery. If not for her raging hormones, she could save money, and he’d have the satisfaction of having done another good deed.

  Raging hormones? What was she thinking? She was Angelina Winters. She didn’t have raging hormones! She might be attracted to the man, but she was a grown woman, not a naive teenager.

  The more she thought about it, the sillier the whole thing seemed. It wasn’t as if she was a hapless victim of her biological urges. She was a grown woman with a great deal of self-discipline; otherwise, she’d never have been able to hold everything together for Lily and herself. Surely, if she could handle parenthood single-handedly, she could handle a few minutes alone with a nice man who’d offered to do her a favor.

  It wasn’t as though the attraction was two-sided. He hadn’t given her the first indication that he was interested in anything other than her washing machine.

  Except for the way he looked at her.

  But all men looked, didn’t they? What was that old expression? Married, not dead—it doesn’t hurt to look. Only he wasn’t married, which meant he had an unlimited right to look.

  She’d just
have to handle the situation better. Saving thirty dollars and not having to spend several hours in a Laundromat on Sunday afternoon were worth the inconvenience of a little ogling.

  Her mind was made up. If the washing machine was in stock and could be picked up today, she would take Dr. Calder up on his offer. She’d just put a lid on her lust and take a cold shower after he left.

  The machine was in stock. Angelina had the salesman cancel the delivery request and rewrite the sales ticket without the extra charge.

  By the time all the arrangements were made and she returned to the vaccination station, it was almost four o’clock. She stood off to the side, waiting for a lull in the line of pet owners who’d waited until the last minute to bring their pets, but the line remained three deep for the ten minutes she stood there watching the vet work.

  She’d never thought about veterinarians having a bedside manner, but whatever it was called for those treating animals instead of human beings, Dr. Calder was charming to his patients. He petted each animal, gave it a quick look-over, spoke to the owners and wielded the syringe with competence and authority.

  He was, she decided, probably a very good veterinarian. And a very caring human being.

  He spied her and grinned widely. Tilting his head toward the back of the booth, he said, “Come on in.”

  Angelina hesitated, until he said, “We could use some help.”

  She walked to the far end of the side table and tentatively entered the work area, glad to help, but wondering what they wanted her to do.

  “Thank goodness!” said the woman seated at the table where the pet owners were filling out information cards about their pets. She got up and whispered in Angelina’s ear. “I have to find a little girls’ room.” She winked and said in a normal voice, “Just make sure all the blanks are filled in, and if you have any problems, ask Emma. She’s the one unpacking the syringes.”

  She was off at a fast clip, and Angelina sat down and began handing out forms and reviewing them. The regular volunteer returned after a few minutes. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” Angelina reported.