by Loree Lough
She looked from the paper-strewn floor to Wade to Adam. The strained smile on her face told Adam that while she didn’t know what the altercation had been about, she was definitely aware there had been a dispute.
Her gaze returned to the file. “You want me to tidy that up for you?”
“Nah, I’ll take care of it. Just give me a minute,” he repeated.
Her expression reminded Adam of Mrs. Anderson, his seventh-grade English teacher, who had a certain way of saying, with little more than a glare, You’re behaving like kindergartners. The instant she closed the door, Adam stooped and began gathering up the papers that made up Mr. Gardner’s file. “Trust me, Wade,” he said from the floor, “even if she knows something—and I’d stake my life that she doesn’t—she’s not planning to sue anybody. Kasey isn’t like that.”
He heard the door open, heard Wade say from the hall, “I don’t know how you can be so sure, but I hope you’re right.”
Adam flopped onto his chair and began replacing pages in order by date.
He took a deep, shaky breath. “Me, too,” he whispered. “Me, too.”
“Are you sure it’s all right?”
The secretary nodded. “Absolutely! Dr. Thorne has had back-to-back patients all morning. He’ll appreciate a friendly visit.” She waved Kasey toward the hall leading to the partners’ offices. “His door is the second one on the right.” With that, she went back to filling out insurance forms.
With an “if you say so” shrug, Kasey headed for Adam’s office. His door was slightly ajar, and as she lifted her hand to knock, she heard him say, “I don’t have time for this, Wade. I’m telling you, she won’t sue.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Why don’t you do something productive with your time?”
Clearly, he was angry with Wade. Strange, Kasey thought. Hadn’t they told her at supper the other night that they’d been friends since childhood?
“See if you can wrangle a tee time out of the receptionist at Hobbit’s Glen,” he continued, “and let me handle this K—”
“May I help you?”
The suddenness of the woman’s voice made Kasey lurch, and she nearly dropped her packages. “Goodness!” she gasped, readjusting her grip on things.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” the nurse said.
“I—I’m here to see Dr. Thorne. His secretary said it would be all right….”
She gave Kasey a wary smile, then shoved Adam’s door open. “Expecting anyone, Adam?”
He’d had his back to the door, feet propped on the windowsill. Both feet dropped to the floor with a solid thump and he swiveled his chair to face them. A bright smile flashed across his face when he spotted Kasey.
She would have said he seemed genuinely pleased to see her, if not for the fact that he immediately shielded his eyes with one hand.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” Adam barked, then hung up the phone. With a protective nod, his nurse backed into the hall and closed the door.
Adam stood. “Kasey.”
He sounded pleased to see her, too.
And yet there was something written on that handsome face. She would have named that “something” guilt. Did it have something to do with what he’d said the other night—that there were things she needed to know about him…?
“What a nice surprise,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs facing his desk. “What brings you here?”
Kasey took a seat, draping her coat over the arm of the chair beside hers. She slid a blue-lidded plastic container onto his desk. “You forgot your lasagna the other night.” Plopping a brown grocery bag beside it, she added, “And your sweatpants. They were hanging on the banister, remember?”
“Yeah, I do.”
I do?
Chances were slim to none that she’d hear those words spoken on an altar, echoed by her own vow. Shaking off the silly thought, Kasey feigned a laugh. “Maybe we could both do with a dose of that memory-booster herb.”
“I don’t put any stock in that kind of bunk.” He frowned, waving her suggestion away.
What had put him in such a grumpy mood all of a sudden? she wondered. “Well,” she began, matching his tone, note for gruff note, “I’m not surprised to hear you say that. Doctors rarely put stock in anything but medical science.”
Adam’s smile tightened. “Name me one other thing worth putting your faith in.”
Several times since he’d left on Halloween night, Kasey had wondered about the condition of his soul, about his relationship with God…if indeed he had a relationship with God. Adam seemed like a good and decent man, but experience had taught her that a man’s behavior was no barometer of Christianity.
“How about God?” she blurted.
She’d touched a nerve, mentioning Buddy in Adam’s cabin. She’d touched another just now, as evidenced by the furrow between his brows and the narrowing of his brown eyes.
So much for wondering where he stood on the Christian issue. His expression made her want to dig deeper, to explore his attitude further. But as the verse in Ecclesiastes said, there was a time for everything under heaven.
This, common sense told her, was not the time.
She forced a bright smile. “Aleesha wanted me to be sure to tell you the lasagna is best with fresh-grated Parmesan cheese.” She shrugged. “I would’ve brought some, but we’re all out.”
He glanced at the covered dish and sat back in his overstuffed black leather chair. “Nice of you to come all the way over here to bring it. You didn’t have to do that.”
Kasey laughed. “Oh, but I did! Aleesha and Mom have been nagging me since I got up yesterday morning to get this over here.” She tucked an annoying wayward curl behind her ear. “Besides, I was in the neighborhood, delivering an arrangeme—”
“Really?”
Calmly, he folded his hands on the desktop. Too calmly? Kasey wondered.
“Where’s your client?”
“Right here in your building, actually. A plastic surgeon on the fifth floor.”
“Ah, that’d be Dr. Kantor.” Adam chuckled. “Well, if anybody can afford flowers for his waiting room, it’s Bill.” He pulled the bag closer. “Let me guess. He ordered an arrangement with lots of roses in it, right?”
She tilted her head. At least his mood seemed to have improved. “What makes you say that?”
He shrugged, opening the paper sack. “Most of his patients are women.” He met her eyes. “And don’t all women prefer roses?”
Kasey narrowed her eyes. “They’re pretty enough, but they’re not my favorite flowers.”
He stuck his face into the bag and inhaled, making Kasey wonder if maybe the big secret he’d been hiding had something to do with his sanity.
“Smells great,” he said. Adam glanced at the clock on his wall, then back at her. “Say, have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
He got to his feet again. This was the perfect opportunity to pump her for information. By the time she’d downed the last morsel of her lunch, he’d know for sure whether or not she’d dropped into his life calculatingly…or like manna from heaven.
If he were a betting man, he’d put his money on the manna. “There’s a terrific little café, walking distance from here. I could buy you—”
“Adam, really. I couldn’t. I owe you so much already.”
Ignoring her comment, he grabbed his sports coat from a peg behind the door and nodded at the boxed lasagna. “Does it need to be refrigerated?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Dorothy,” he called to his secretary, “we’re going to Mi Casa.” He picked up Kasey’s coat with one hand, the food dish with the other. “Could you put this in the fridge, please?”
Dorothy relieved him of the container. “Mi Casa, eh?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Conditions. Don’t you gals ever do anything with no strings attached?” He was only half kidding.
But Dorothy
blundered on. “…if you’ll bring me back an order of sugar-fried dough.”
He held up Kasey’s jacket. “Deal.”
Slipping into it, Kasey said, “Olé.”
He hesitated. “Olé?”
“You did look a little bit like a bullfighter, standing there holding her wrap,” Dorothy injected.
“Seems fitting,” Kasey said. “Somehow, I find myself on my way to lunch, and I don’t recall saying sì or hambriento.” She shot Adam a teasing look. “And something tells me that even if I had said ‘yes’, or ‘I’m hungry’, we’d be halfway there, anyway.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because,” she said, slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, “I have a feeling you’re more like Ferdinand the bull than the bullfighter.”
“Ferdinand?”
“The bull. Stubborn like a—”
Dorothy’s laughter bounced up and down the hall. “Oh, I like her, Doc. You don’t wanna let this one get away!”
He liked this one, too. But he had a sinking feeling that Kasey wasn’t going to get away so much as he was likely to drive her away.
Unless he could keep her from finding out the truth about him….
Kasey liked the way Adam put himself on the street side of the walk as they strolled to Mi Casa. It was an old-fashioned, chivalrous action that reminded her of her father, who had always held doors, pulled out chairs, and helped Kasey’s mother into her coat.
In the restaurant, the hostess suggested a spot near the door, near a table of rowdy teenagers. Politely, he suggested a table closer to the kitchen, where they could enjoy the soft beat of Mexican music that flowed from the overhead speakers.
He pulled out Kasey’s chair, then handed her a menu.
“So what’re you in the mood for?” Adam asked, sitting across from her.
She studied the lunch offerings. “Maybe a nice crispy salad.”
“Rabbit food? Nah, get something that’ll stick to your ribs, something with meat in it!”
“There’s ground sirloin in the taco salad….”
“They make a mean chimichanga here,” he tempted.
The waitress stepped up to the table. “What can I get you folks to drink?”
“Two iced teas,” Adam said, his tone businesslike yet cordial. “You still serve that terrific salsa with homemade tortilla chips as an appetizer?”
“We sure do.”
His easy way with people—the waitress, his secretary, his nurse—told her something about Adam’s character. His choice of restaurants said a lot about him, too: he was a simple man, with simple tastes.
Though she’d never much enjoyed it, Kasey had dined in Baltimore’s best eating establishments—thanks to Buddy’s “connections”—where tuxedoed waiters delivered meals on sterling silver serving carts. Here, cartoon chili peppers decorated the aprons of waitresses who balanced stainless flatware on plastic trays. Kasey knew there wouldn’t be scented hand soaps and lotions in the ladies’ room, or a strolling violinist to play romantic tunes beside a linen-cloaked table. Instead of velvet draperies, shinyleafed philodendrons hung at Mi Casa’s windows, and in place of brocade-upholstered furnishings, there were hardwood chairs.
This was a family place, just the kind her father would have loved. Her dad, a solid, do-the-right-thing kind of guy who’d lived a down-to-earth life.
Was this place the reason Kasey felt completely and totally at ease…or was it her companion?
She looked across at Adam, prepared to thank him for introducing her to Mi Casa when their waitress returned, balancing a tray laden with mugs of steaming coffee and tall tumblers of iced tea. “You guys ready to order?” she asked, placing a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa in the center of the Formica-topped table.
“The lady will have the taco salad,” Adam said, “and I’ll take the beef chimichanga.”
After scribbling their order on a blue-lined pad, the waitress nodded and moved to chat with the patrons at the next table.
He frowned suddenly, then grabbed her hand. “What have you done to yourself?” he asked, inspecting her forefinger.
“It’s just a knick, one of the hazards of the trade, I’m afraid.”
“I should have asked for a tour when I was at your house the other evening.”
“Of the workshop, you mean?”
“I think what you do is fascinating. You’re—”
She held up a hand to forestall yet another compliment. “It’s a living,” she said, reminding him of what he’d replied when Aleesha enquired about his profession. “You should stop by some time.” Kasey paused, then added, “You know, other than Mom and Aleesha, I don’t think anyone has ever seen it. Well, except for Buddy.”
It surprised her that his cheeks reddened. In response to her invitation? Or because she’d said “Buddy”?
“Did someone mention my name?”
The suddenness of the loud voice made Kasey jump, and she nearly upset her glass. “Buddy! You nearly scared me out of my shoes!”
“Sorry, sweet cheeks,” he said, bending to plant a kiss on Kasey’s forehead. “Didn’t mean to startle you, but it surprised me, seeing your pretty face when I came in, and—”
Either he hadn’t noticed Adam earlier, or he had just now recognized him. “Thorne.” He all but spat out the name. “I didn’t know rich, successful doctors frequented places like this.” Buddy’s tone made it clear what he thought of “places like this.”
“I like it,” Kasey defended. “It’s quaint. Charming, even.”
Adam shot her a look that was either gratitude or amazement, then wrapped his big hand around his iced tea glass.
“Long time no see,” Buddy said to Adam. “Didn’t know you and Kasey were, uh…acquainted.”
Anger sparked from Adam’s usually gentle brown eyes. “Yeah. We’re, uh…acquainted.” He let a moment of silence punctuate his statement. “I’d invite you to join us, Buddy, but I know how busy you are.”
Buddy’s glare darkened his entire face. “Thanks,” he all but snarled, “but you’re right. I am busy.”
Adam chuckled. “So what brings you to a ‘place like this’?” he asked, drawing quote marks in the air. “Delivering jukeboxes? Picking up bets made at Pimlico?” He looked at Kasey, as if to underscore his blatant accusation that Buddy had more twists and turns than the Mississippi River.
Buddy’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that concerns you.” He turned his heated stare on Kasey. “I called your workshop, and the answering machine picked up. I figured you were out delivering one of your little flower arrangements.” The glare riveted on Adam once more.
Kasey stiffened. She’d always hated it when Buddy referred to her work as “little arrangements,” but out of gratitude to him for his generosity, she’d never told him so.
One hand on the back of her chair, the other on the table’s edge, he leaned in and whispered, “In the future, you might want to check with me before…” Moving closer still, he said through clenched teeth, “You want to be more careful who you’re seen with in public.” He cleared his throat and stood up straight. “We’ll talk, later.”
Clearly, it was an order, one Kasey not only resented but intended to confront. She couldn’t help but notice that Buddy’s presence had commanded the attention of nearby diners; adding to their entertainment didn’t appeal to her.
“You bet we’ll talk later,” she said in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice.
Whatever business had brought Buddy to Mi Casa never got concluded, because he stormed out the door, got into his sleek roadster and pealed out of the parking lot.
“Sorry,” Adam said.
“You’re sorry? For what?”
“For not taking you seriously the other night.”
The waitress came to deliver their food. “Anything else, folks?” she asked.
Adam nodded. “Couple glasses of water would be nice.”
“What do you mean?” Kasey asked when the waitress left.
&nbs
p; “You said he’d asked you to marry him, that you hadn’t given him an answer yet.” Fiddling with his paper-encased drinking straw, he added, “Guess I misinterpreted our…your…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize… If I had, I never would’ve…”
That night in his cabin, Kasey had asked Adam for information about Buddy, saying she needed to find out everything she could about him. “He’s asked me to marry him,” she’d said, “and I haven’t given him an answer yet.” Though he hadn’t provided that information, she’d let him kiss her when he saved her from falling into the fire. Correction—she’d wanted him to kiss her. Evidently, Adam also counted that demonstration of affection when she’d tenderly kissed his forehead after their lasagna dinner, and summed up that she hadn’t taken Buddy’s proposal seriously.
What he must think of her now!
She reached across the table, gripped his wrist with both hands. “Adam, let me explain. This thing with Buddy and me, it isn’t what it seems.”
He picked up his fork. “Yeah, well, not that it’s any of my business, but whatever ‘it’ is solves a lot of problems for me.” He poked at his meal.
She’d known Buddy for years, had met Adam days ago. Buddy’s outrageous behavior had sent the wrong message, one Kasey felt obliged to dispel. For a reason she couldn’t explain, Adam’s feelings—and his opinion of her—mattered…mattered very much.
“Better eat,” he said, “before your food gets cold.”
Maybe the best way to downplay Buddy’s proprietary actions was to ignore them. As Adam took a drink of iced tea, she feigned a smile. “Taco salad is supposed to be cold.”
But Adam never saw it, didn’t react to her well-intentioned joke. Instead, he pulled back his shirtsleeve and glanced at his watch. “Wow. Look at the time. I’d better get back, before Dorothy sends a posse out after me.”
He stood, slid his wallet from his back pocket and absently tossed a twenty and a five onto the table. “That should cover the tab.” Finally, he met her eyes. “See ya around, Kase.” And without another word, he dug his hands into his pockets and walked purposefully toward the door, shoving it open with one shoulder.
