“Yes, I know. You told me,” he replied gently.
Olivia abruptly rose to her feet, a deer about to flee. Paul rounded his desk, coming to her side. Though he wasn’t a demonstrative person by nature, seeing his sister like this tugged on his heartstrings. He hugged her, albeit awkwardly.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Livy,” he promised.
“I hope so,” she murmured against his shoulder. “I sincerely hope so.”
There was yet another knock on his door. Undoubtedly that was his nurse, here to remind him that he had patients to see this afternoon. Anxious patients who felt exactly like his sister.
“Come in,” he called out.
Ramona came in just as he gave his sister another bracing hug before releasing her.
Olivia stepped back.
Surprised, certain that she’d inadvertently walked in on something, Ramona instantly looked down at the rug as if it had suddenly become fascinating. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t,” Paul told her crisply. “This is my sister Olivia Armstrong Mallory.”
Ramona looked at the other woman, a wariness automatically entering her eyes. Another Armstrong. Another hurdle?
“Someone else who has to approve my being hired?” she asked politely.
Turning from the woman in the doorway, Olivia looked at him quizzically.
“Long story,” Paul told her, forestalling any questions on her part. “And I have to be somewhere.”
Olivia slipped the strap of her designer purse onto her shoulder. “So do I,” she told him. “Thanks for getting me in to see Dr. Demetrios,” she said, then nodded at Ramona before slipping out. “Nice meeting you.”
But you didn’t, Ramona thought. The fourth branch on the Armstrong family tree—this had to be Senator Mallory’s wife, she realized—hadn’t learned her name, making the introduction incomplete.
“She didn’t,” Ramona said out loud to Paul once the door was closed again.
That had come out of nowhere. Much like the woman herself, he observed now. “She didn’t what?”
“Meet me,” Ramona told him. Because Paul looked at her as if she’d just lapsed into a foreign dialect, she elaborated, “You gave me her name, but you didn’t give her mine.”
She was right. Paul lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug.
“She was in a hurry,” he explained, then glanced at his watch. “And so am I.”
“Then I won’t keep you,” Ramona promised, getting down to business. She subtly stepped into his path so that he couldn’t leave his office without answering her. “I just wanted to know if you have any changes you want me to incorporate into the article.”
His mind still on his sister’s troubled demeanor, he looked at Ramona blankly. “Article?”
“The press release,” she prompted. Seeing the pages on his desk, she pointed to them for emphasis. “That.”
“Oh.” What was it about this woman that seemed to drive any coherent thoughts out of his head? Paul glanced back at his desk, as if seeing the pages there would crystallize his thoughts. “No, no changes. It’s very good just the way it is.”
She knew she should let it go at that. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t vanity that prodded her, just a desire to make sure that everything was clear and aboveboard.
“Then you really did read it?” Her eyes held his. She liked to think that she could tell if a person was lying.
“Every last word,” Paul assured her. And then he added, “You have a very fortuitous way with words, Ramona.” There was genuine admiration in his voice. “I know learned colleagues who sweat bullets just to get out a paragraph. You whipped that whole thing out in what, twenty minutes?”
“Ten,” Ramona corrected. “I spent the other ten praying.”
Whatever he might have expected her to say, that didn’t even come close. Maybe he’d misheard her. “Praying?”
Ramona nodded. He watched her hoop earrings swing in time to the rhythm she’d created. “That you’d come back and tell me that you’ve all agreed to let me stay on.” She put on the most earnest face she could. “I really want this job.”
It seemed odd to him that anyone would get so caught up or passionate about a public-relations position. “Why?”
Mentally, Ramona crossed her fingers. She really did hate lying, even though it did come with the territory. Right now, she needed to be convincing. Ultimately, in order to do what she had to, she wanted Paul Armstrong to think of her as an ally. The sooner she gained the man’s trust, the easier it would be to gain access to other records.
“Because as far as I’m concerned, the work that’s being done here at the institute is of paramount importance.”
Even though he was still in a hurry, her words made him pause. Crossing his arms before him, he took a moment to study his newest staff member. “So this is a crusade for you?”
Ramona’s already dazzling smile grew brighter. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He wanted to believe her. Things would be a great deal simpler if he just could and let it go at that. Maybe the betrayal of their former employee had put him on his guard, making him more suspicious than he ordinarily was. Or maybe he was just being supersensitive, but for the third time today, he felt he was in the presence of someone who wasn’t being completely up-front with him. Someone who, for whatever reason, was holding something back.
Although, he had to admit that when it came to Ramona Tate, he hadn’t a clue what that “something” might be. He didn’t know the woman well enough for that. It was just a hunch. A feeling.
He was being far too paranoid, he upbraided himself. There was no real reason not to believe that the young woman was being honest with him. After all, he was the one who’d posed the question, who’d prodded her. It was possible that Ramona was every bit as altruistic as she presented herself to be.
Possible, he reasoned, but was it actually probable? He really wasn’t all that sure that the answer to that was yes. However, only time would tell.
Chapter Five
He should be on his way, Paul thought and yet, here he was, still lingering. Still sharing space with this woman with the expressive eyes.
“Derek asked me to take you on a tour of the institute and to give you a miniorientation,” he told her.
Her natural curiosity kicked in. “Why doesn’t he give me the tour himself?”
Paul took the question to mean that she would have preferred his brother’s company to his. He understood that. People always gravitated to Derek. He was the outgoing one, the one with the ability to make people laugh. The one who could defuse any situation and had a story to fit every occasion.
Ordinarily, it didn’t bother him to have someone prefer Derek over him. He was used to it. Why it bothered him this time was something he wasn’t about to let himself explore.
“He had to leave,” Paul told her.
She nodded, accepting the excuse at face value. “So, when do you want to get started? Now’s fine with me,” she volunteered.
She certainly did seem eager. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time today. I have several patients scheduled for this afternoon.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly and he found himself being drawn in. “So you practice medicine as well as oversee the staff here.”
“Yes, why does that surprise you?” he wanted to know.
She laughed, adding a touch of self-consciousness to the sound, as if she hadn’t expected to be caught. She knew how to play her role well. “I didn’t take you for a multitasker.”
He knew he should have already been on his way to his other office. His sense of responsibility had him making a point of being early rather than just on time, but her reply caused more questions to pop up. He didn’t think of himself as the kind of person that people formed any sort of impression about—unless they felt they had to or when being in contact with him directly affected their lives.
“All right, I’
ll bite. What did you take me for?” he asked.
There was no hesitation. Ramona had the answer all worked out. “Someone who is very focused. Who follows the rules. Someone who does one thing at a time and who does that one thing very, very well.”
He realized he was watching her lips as she spoke and he looked away. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You didn’t,” she assured him quickly. “Actually, I don’t mind being wrong when it turns out to be a pleasant surprise.” She said it with such feeling, he half expected her next words to be “gotcha.”
But they weren’t.
Realizing that she was waiting for him to say something further, he finally asked, “How’s tomorrow for you?”
Ramona smiled before answering. As hackneyed as it might have sounded to someone had he voiced his sentiments out loud, her smile really did seem to fill the room with sunshine. Maybe he needed to get out more, Paul thought.
“Tomorrow’s fine. What time?”
“Early,” he told her. “I have a procedure scheduled for ten o’clock, so why don’t we get together about eight—unless that’s too early for you.”
“No, it can even be earlier if you’d prefer. I’m a morning person,” she volunteered cheerfully.
“Eight will be early enough,” he assured her, all but riveted by her smile.
It took effort to look away and even more effort to get himself to walk out of the office and put distance between them.
The problem was Ramona had started to walk out at the same moment that he did. They found themselves together in the doorway; their bodies wound up brushing up against one another. A host of shock waves seemed to travel right through Paul, and he pulled back instantly as if propelled by a live wire.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized quickly, hoping that she didn’t think he’d done that on purpose. Had he been Derek, he realized, he probably would have—and then smoothed it over with his golden tongue.
Something else they didn’t have in common.
Incredibly, her smile seemed to widen even more and there was a hint of laughter in her eyes as she absolved him of all blame.
“That’s all right,” she assured him as if she realized it had been an accident on his part. “And for the record, I don’t bite.”
Even though he opened his mouth to respond, Paul had no comeback for that. His mind had gone completely blank in the face of her smile. He was really going to have to work on that, he chided himself
Mumbling “Tomorrow,” Paul hurried down the hall to his other office, grateful that he could retreat somewhere.
Ramona stood in his doorway for a moment longer, watching the quietest member of the Armstrong tribunal disappear down the corridor. She wasn’t really sure what to make of Dr. Paul Armstrong. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said that the man seemed almost sweet. But that wasn’t possible, not given the overall circumstances.
One thing she did know was that Dr. Paul Armstrong was going to be the subject of some heavy Internet research tonight.
Time was that after she’d put in a full day’s work, she’d head for her cozy little apartment, eager to enjoy a little well-deserved solitude. Dinner most likely would be something she’d have delivered. She’d wind up consuming it while sitting on her chocolate-colored sofa—purchased expressly to hide a multitude of sins, otherwise known as indelible stains—and channel surfing. It was her way of unwinding.
But these days, her own gratification, not to mention rest, was usually postponed, if not put on hold altogether. Instead, she would wind up swinging by the house where she had grown up. The house where her mother still lived.
The key phrase here, Ramona thought, changing lanes to pass a slow-moving SUV, being “still lived.”
Ramona became aware that her grip on the steering wheel had tightened and she forced herself to loosen it—while still keeping a grip on her fragile emotions.
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, she’d been so eager to make her own way, find her own path in the world. But even as she did, she was very aware of the solid foundation she had in her life. Aware that if ever anything went wrong, or she needed a haven, she had her mother, someone who would always be there for her. Always. And if everything was falling apart around her, her mother could always make her feel that it was going to be all right.
Until now.
The threat of mortality, of death always hovering in the background, an invisible wraith that had the power to steal absolutely everything from her, was now ever present.
Ramona knew it was childish, but even so, on some level she felt that she could stave off the threat of her mother’s demise for another day if she just swung by the house and saw her for a little while in the evening. Some nights, “a little while” stretched out into the wee hours of the morning. At other times, she didn’t bother going home at all, crashing in her old room instead.
Turning onto her mother’s street, Ramona was aware that she was once again holding her breath, the way she did now every time she came. She only released it after a swift scan of the surrounding area told her that there was no ambulance parked nearby, no paramedics rushing in or out of the New England–style house that, according to family legend, her mother had fallen in love with thirty-five years ago.
All clear, Ramona thought, pulling up onto the recently repaved driveway.
Taking a moment to collect her things—her purse and the state-of-the-art laptop that went just about everywhere with her—Ramona got out and locked her vehicle, then made her way to the front door.
She paused, juggling purse and briefcase, searching for the keys that habit always had her dropping into her purse the moment she took them out of the ignition. She knew she should just hold the keys in her hand, but that never seemed to happen. She always wound up playing a frustrating game of hide-and-seek in front of the door before locating her keys.
This time, Ramona didn’t have to. The front door opened before she could pull her keys out of her purse again.
Katherine Tate, or what was left of her these days, stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorjamb to support herself. There was a slight smile on her lips as she looked at her daughter fondly.
“I thought I heard your car pull up.” A tiny “yip” had her mother amending her words. “Actually, Roxy was the one who heard you pull up,” she confessed, referring to the tiny, energized mix-breed puppy that was all but tap-dancing behind her, trying to get at Ramona. “How she can tell your car apart from all the others that pass by, I have absolutely no idea. But she’s never wrong.” Placing her very thin hand on her daughter’s shoulder to anchor herself, the five-foot-two woman stood up on her toes in order to press a kiss on Ramona’s cheek. “How’s my famous undercover daughter doing?”
Shifting her briefcase to the same side as her purse, Ramona linked her free arm through her mother’s as if they were just two carefree girlfriends, walking and chatting, instead of a daughter who was attempting to unobtrusively guide her mother back inside the house.
“That’s a contradiction in terms, Mom. If I was famous, I couldn’t get away with being undercover. I’d be recognized immediately.” With a wink she pointed out, “I’d rather be good than famous.”
“To me you’re both,” Katherine declared with great feeling.
Ramona beamed at her mother, biting back a wave of fear. Life couldn’t go on if anything happened to her mother, she thought.
Hear that, God? You can’t have her. I need her too much.
“I can always count on you to pick up my spirits,” Ramona said to her mother. Roxy eagerly scurried back and forth. It was the dog’s way of showing she was happy to see her.
“Why?” Katherine asked, slipping her arm out and shutting the door behind them as they walked in. She flipped the lock into place then slowly turned around to face her again. “Do your spirits need picking up?”
They did, but only because seeing her mother like this, a shell of her former vibrant, youthful self, w
as always a shock to her system for the first few minutes. She didn’t know why she expected her to look exactly the way she had a little over six months ago. Probably because she still liked to believe in miracles and secretly prayed that one would occur in the hours that she was away from the house and her mother.
But the miracle just didn’t happen.
It will. As soon as I find who your eggs went to, Mom, it will, she silently promised.
“Just a tough day,” she said, knowing Katherine expected some kind of response. Ramona attributed her own success as an investigative reporter as something that came naturally to her thanks to her mother, who would approach a subject from an endless multitude of angles until she got what she was after. Surrendering or giving up were never considered options.
Ramona was aware that her mother’s breathing was becoming labored. It took very few steps to tire her out these days. Katherine sank down on the sofa in the living room. Roxy instantly hopped onto the seat beside her mistress. Smiling wearily at the dog, she stroked it as she looked at her and asked, “Where is it again that you’re pretending to work?”
“I’m not pretending, Mom,” Ramona corrected fondly. She thought of the article she’d written for the press release. It was damn good. Even Derek Armstrong’s stone-faced evil twin had liked it. “I really am working.”
“But you’re also digging, aren’t you?” The question was merely for form’s sake. Katherine knew the kind of work her daughter actually did. She was exceedingly proud of the path that Ramona had chosen.
“Yes, I am,” Ramona answered.
Except that no real “digging” had taken place yet. She needed to get to know people a little better before she could safely start asking questions without arousing suspicion. She had, she felt, a perfect cover in her role as public-relations manager, and the tour that Paul Armstrong had promised her was going to be an immense help in getting her started.
Prescription for Romance Page 5
