Summer of Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  Abigail broke into his thoughts. “I really am sorry. I just assumed that Jessi knew, since you went to school together.”

  They’d done more than just that. Which was something he could not—would not—think about right now. Not with her mom sitting there, looking more than a little mortified.

  “It’s fine …”

  “Don’t worry …”

  He and Jessi spoke at exactly the same time, which caused everyone to laugh and broke the tension instantly. Even Cooper gave a quick woof of approval.

  And although he’d been the one to say, “Don’t worry,” he was worried. More than a little. Because every time he caught Jessi watching him, his gut slid sideways.

  “I have some peach ice cream for dessert,” Abigail said, “if anyone wants some.”

  He glanced down at his watch. Almost nine. He could safely take off and claim to have survived the evening. “Thank you, but I probably should be heading home. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

  He pushed his chair back, dislodging Cooper from his foot in the process. The dog’s nails clicked on the hardwood floor as he slid from beneath the table and pressed his cheek against Clint’s calf. Reaching down, he scratched behind the animal’s ears.

  “Are you sure?” Abigail asked.

  “Yes, unless there’s something I can do to help clean up.”

  She smiled. “Not a thing.” A quick frown puckered her brow. “I almost forgot. When can I see Chelsea? I don’t want to set her treatment back, but if I can just spend a minute or two with her to assure myself that she’s really—”

  “Of course.” He glanced at Jessi for confirmation. “How about if we make it for the next time Jessi and I meet with her? Friday at three?”

  Jessi nodded her approval. “It’s okay with me. I want to talk to you a little bit about her condition first, though, okay, Mama? I don’t want you to be shocked by what she might say … or not say.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know it’s bad. I just want to see her.”

  “I’ll pick you up on my way home from work, then. We can go together.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, something that made Clint’s chest tighten. Despite Mr. Spencer’s heavy-handed ways, this had been a house of love. It was obvious the two women were close. And he was glad. Glad that her teenage angst hadn’t left any lasting scars.

  His arthritic pinky creaked out a warning shot when he curled his hand around the chair to push it back in.

  “Thanks again for dinner, Mrs. Spencer.”

  “You’re very welcome, and I’m glad you came. I already feel better.”

  As he started for the door, he was surprised to find Jessi right behind him. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  He opened the door, forgetting about Cooper. The dog bounded out before he could stop him.

  “It’s okay,” Jessi said. “He does it to everyone. He won’t go far.”

  The walk down the driveway was filled with the scent of magnolia blossoms, a smell he remembered well. Unbeknownst to Jessi, he’d sat in front of her house for hours the night of graduation, listening for any sounds of fighting, or worse. It had been hard back then to remember that not every father struck out with his fists.

  But there’d been nothing that night. Just the muggy heat and that rich floral scent—something he connected to Jessi every time he smelled it. Even now, memories of the soft carpet of moss he’d felt beneath his hands as he’d supported his weight swirled around him. Of her face, soft and flushed, tilting back as he’d trailed his mouth down her neck.

  Damn. He never should have come here.

  He quickened his steps, only to have her hand touch his arm as they reached his car. He turned to face her, keys in hand, ready to get the hell out of there. The faster he left, the sooner he could regain his sanity.

  Which right now was nowhere to be found. Because all he wanted to do was kiss her. Right in front of her house. To relive a little of the magic he’d experienced all those years ago.

  “Why didn’t you tell me … back then?” she asked.

  He might have known this was why she’d wanted to come with him. “I thought I’d explained that. It was my problem, there was no reason to involve anyone else.”

  “God, Clint. I bawled my eyes out about my dad’s stupid rules without even knowing what you—”

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want anyone to know. Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s all in the past.”

  “And your dad is gone.”

  His jaw clenched. His father’s liver cancer, brought on by years of alcohol abuse, didn’t mitigate the fact that Clint wished he’d known sooner how to help him. “So is yours.”

  “Yes. I’m just glad he’s not suffering. The strokes came faster at the end …”

  “I’m sorry.” He put his arm around her, meaning to give her a quick squeeze and release her. Instead, somehow she wound up against his chest, palms splayed against his shirt, staring up at him with those huge eyes.

  The same eyes that did something to his insides every damn time she looked at him. It had happened in high school. And it was still happening now. He leaned back against the car door, still holding on to her.

  She bit her lip for a second. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you were the one—back then. And I’m glad it’s you now.”

  Whoa. If that wasn’t a kick in the gut, he didn’t know what was. She was glad he’d been the one who’d taken her virginity and not Larry? He’d beaten himself up about that for years afterwards.

  And what did she mean, she was happy it was him now? She had to be talking about Chelsea.

  “I had no idea who she was, Jess, until you stepped into that room. I swear.”

  “I didn’t know it was you either. Until I saw the nameplate on your desk.”

  Her fingers came up and touched the line of his jaw, and she smiled. “I never believed that rebel freedom air you put on back in school.”

  He cocked a brow. “Oh, no? And why was that?”

  “Because you looked so lost at times. I just never understood what caused it back then.”

  Before he had time to tense up, she continued. “Mama is right, you know.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You are the absolute best person to be treating Chelsea.” She closed her eyes for a second before looking up at him again. “I’m so glad you’re here, Clint. So glad you came home.”

  The squeezing sensation in his chest grew. The tightrope he was toeing his way across was thinner than he’d realized … harder to balance on than he’d expected.

  “Promise me you won’t drop the case,” she added.

  That’s exactly what he should do. Especially now. Bow out and ask someone else to step in. Transfer the hell out of that hospital and go back to California.

  A thought came to him. Was this why Jessi was in his arms, staring all doe-eyed at him? “I can’t make you that promise. I have to do what I think is in the best interests of your daughter.”

  “I know. Just promise me that tomorrow, when you walk into that office, you’ll still be the one treating her.”

  He was suddenly aware of her fingers. They were still on his skin, only now they’d moved slightly backward, putting his senses on high alert—along with certain parts of his body. “I’ll be there for her.”

  “Good. Because I think I’m about to do something very, very stupid.”

  He didn’t need to ask what it was. Because he was on the verge of doing something just as stupid.

  But it didn’t stop him from tugging her closer, neither did it stop his lips from closing over hers in a sudden crazy burst of need.

  And once their mouths fused together, he was transported to the past. Twenty-two years, to be exact. He’d been unable to get enough of her. Her taste. The faint scent of her shampoo or body wash, or magnolias—whatever the hell it had been that had filled his senses, intoxicating him more than the booze he’d been offered earlier ever could have.

  A
faint sound came from her throat. He was fairly certain it wasn’t a gasp of protest, since her arms had wound around his neck and her body had slid up his as she’d gone up on tiptoe. He buried his fingers in the hair at her nape, the slight dampness probably due to the Virginia humidity, but it brought back memories of perspiration and bodies that moved together in perfect harmony. Of …

  The sound of Cooper’s plaintive howl split the air a short distance away, followed by the sound of the front door opening. Abigail’s voice called out the dog’s name.

  Cursing everything under the sun, he let Jessi pull free from his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was let her go. He wanted to drag her into the car and drive right to the creek to see if that night had been everything he’d remembered it being.

  Abigail’s voice called the dog’s name again. The bushes shielded them from view, so Clint didn’t look. Besides, his gaze was glued to Jessi’s pale features.

  Even when Cooper decided to lumber over to them, instead of going to the house, he didn’t break eye contact.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.” The gutted apology as she backed up one step, then two, made his lungs burn. The back of her hand went to her mouth, and she pressed hard. Her feet separated them by another pace, then she reached down to capture Cooper’s collar. “Please, don’t dump her. This was my fault. Not hers.”

  As she led the dog back to the front door, Clint gave his head a silent shake. There was no one else. He couldn’t leave. Not yet.

  Chelsea couldn’t afford to lose two doctors in the space of two weeks.

  Which meant Clint couldn’t afford to start something he would never be able to finish. He’d made love to Jessi once and had barely been able to find the strength to walk away. If it happened twice, there was no hope for him.

  So, from now on, he would tread carefully. And keep his distance from Jessi and her mom as much as possible.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHELSEA WAS TALKING.

  Not a lot, but Clint had noticed a subtle shift in her demeanor over the past several days as they met for their sessions. She was more interested and less withdrawn. He wasn’t sure what had caused the change, but he was all for it.

  Besides, it kept him from having to deal with the devastating consequences of that kiss he and Jessi had shared beside his car. And the suspicious thoughts that had crept into his mind in the meantime.

  Had she tried to manipulate him into staying?

  No. Jessi wasn’t like that. When he’d left all those years ago, she’d never said a word to try to make him change his mind. Yes, she’d made him promise that he’d remain on her daughter’s case—right before she’d locked her lips to his, but it wasn’t as if she was the only one who’d been thinking along those lines. He’d been just as guilty. And she’d been very careful to maintain her distance ever since. Their consultations were now over the phone—despite their earlier agreement to meet with Chelsea together—and her voice during those calls was brisk and businesslike.

  Just like the doctor she was.

  And she was smart. She knew exactly the right questions to ask regarding her daughter’s state of mind. According to the nurses, her visits to Chelsea occurred during his off hours. He had no doubt she’d somehow found out his schedule and was purposely coming when he wasn’t around.

  As grateful as he should be for the breathing space, he found himself irritated at the way he missed her presence.

  What else could he do, though? He’d always prided himself on his self-control, because it was something his dad had never had much of. And yet Clint lost it every time he was around Jessi.

  Every. Damn. Time.

  It had been true twenty-two years ago, and it was still true today. He just couldn’t resist her. The good girl that he’d had a secret crush on in high school had turned him into an impulsive, reckless creature. One he feared, because he recognized the beast all too well. He’d looked into impulsive, reckless eyes so like his own during his teenage years.

  That raw, angry kid had morphed into a cool, rational man somewhere along the way, and in doing so had found himself. Had found an antidote that worked. But it only functioned if he didn’t let anyone get too close.

  Today would be the test. Jessi was due here with her mom in a little over an hour. He’d warned himself. Scolded himself. Immersed himself in work. All to no avail.

  His heart was already pounding in anticipation of seeing her—trying to justify being with her one more time.

  Just one kiss. He could stop anytime he wanted.

  Sound familiar, Clint?

  Substitute drink for the word kiss and you had his dad in all his lying glory.

  Not good.

  His assistant pushed open the door. “Dr. Marks? Miles Branson is here for his appointment. Are you ready for him?”

  “Yes, send him in. Thanks, Maria.”

  As hectic as his morning had been, with two new patients and a flurry of consultations, he shouldn’t have had time to think about Jessi at all. But she’d found her way into every nook and cranny of his brain and surged to the forefront whenever he had a free moment.

  Like now.

  Miles came in and, after shaking Clint’s hand, lowered himself into one of the chairs across from him. Another PTSD patient, this particular man had made great strides in his treatment over the past couple of weeks. It could be because of that new baby girl he had waiting at home for him.

  “How’re Maggie and the baby?” he asked.

  “Both beautiful.” The smile the man gave him was genuine, and the furrows between his brows seemed less pronounced than they’d been when Clint had arrived. He scrolled through his phone for a second and then handed it over.

  Miles’s wife and a baby swaddled in a pink blanket lay on a hospital bed. She looked exhausted but happy, while it was obvious their daughter was trying out her new set of lungs, if the open mouth and red, angry-looking face were anything to go by.

  “Beautiful. You’ve got a great pair of girls there.” Clint pushed the phone across his desk.

  “I’m a lucky man.” He smiled again, glancing down at his wife and daughter. “You know, for the first time in a long time I actually believe that.”

  “I know you do. Are you ready to try for a reduction of your medication?”

  “Can I do away with it altogether?”

  Clint paused for a second. While his superiors were very conscious of time and money, his only concern was for his patients. He’d been known to ruffle a few feathers along the way, but had still somehow made it up the chain of command. While paroxetine wasn’t addictive, like the benzodiazepine family of medications, he still felt it was safer to reduce the dosage gradually while maintaining a regular therapy schedule as they progressed.

  In the two years since Miles had first been seen by other doctors, the man had gotten engaged and then married to a wonderful woman who knew exactly what he was battling. And, thank heavens, this man hadn’t shown the agitation and anger issues that Clint’s dad had.

  “Let’s knock it down from sixty milligrams a day to twenty and go from there.” He grabbed his prescription pad and wrote out a new dosage recommendation. “We’ll maintain our sessions, and in a couple of weeks, if all goes well, we’ll reduce them even more. How does that sound?”

  Miles sat back in his chair, his posture relaxed and open. “It sounds like living. Thanks, Doc.”

  For the next forty-five minutes they went through the new father’s moods and actions, detailing where he’d struggled, while Clint made notes he would transcribe later. Together they made a plan on how to deal with the next several weeks, when having a new baby at home would put more stress on both him and the family.

  When they finally parted, he opened the office door to let Miles out and his glance immediately connected with Jessi and her mom, who’d arrived fifteen minutes early for their session with Chelsea. He nodded at the pair, walking Miles over to his assistant’s desk and giving a few last-minute instructions on
scheduling.

  Taking a deep breath, he finally turned and made his way over to the pair in his waiting area. Jessi, dressed in a casual white-flowered dress that stretched snugly across her top and waist, stood to her feet. Flat, strappy sandals showed off pink toenails and dainty feet. He swallowed when he realized he’d been staring. All his misgivings from earlier came roaring back. He shoved them aside.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he muttered, his voice a little gruffer than he’d expected. But seeing Jessi up close and personal created this choking sensation that closed off the upper part of his throat.

  Her mom was the one to break the stare-fest. “We were a little early, at my insistence. I’m anxious to see my granddaughter.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  Abigail was in a pair of jeans with a white button-down shirt. At almost sixty, she was still a beautiful woman, with high cheekbones and eyes very like her daughter’s. And her granddaughter’s, for that matter.

  “Do you want to meet in my office or head down to Chelsea’s room? Jessi gave a little shrug, no longer attempting to look directly at him. Maybe she felt as uncomfortable as he was about this meeting. “Wherever you feel is best.”

  Her mom spoke up again. “I haven’t seen Chelsea’s room. Do you think she would mind if we met her there? I’m curious about where she’s been staying.” She blinked a couple of times. “Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with the hospital. It looks modern and well cared for.”

  Not what she’d expected. She didn’t say the words, but he could imagine her thoughts.

  The VA’s reputation had taken a beating in the press over the last year. And not without reason, but the corruption was slowly being weeded out, and Clint hoped the end result would be a system of hospitals the country’s servicemen and women could be proud of.