Plain Jane

by Fern Michaels

  Mike’s fingers were gentle as they danced through her hair. He sensed what she was feeling. There were needs of the soul that went beyond the hungers of the body. “I love you.”

  Jane sought him with her lips, possessed him with her hands, her own passion growing as she realized the pleasure she was giving him. The hardness of his sex was somehow tender and vulnerable beneath her hand as she felt it quiver with excitement and desire for her. His hands never left her body, seeking, exploring, touching. She wanted to lie back and give herself to him, yet at the same time, she wanted to possess him, touch him, commit him to memory and know him as she had never known another man. Instead of being alien to her, his body was as familiar to her as her own. She felt her body sing with pleasure.

  Jane felt ravaged by the hunger he created within her. “Now, Mike, please now,” she breathed, feeling as though she would die if he did not, yet hating to put an end to the excruciating pleasure.

  They lay together, legs entwined, her head upon his shoulder as he stroked the softness of her arm and the fullness of her breasts. His lips were in her hair, soft, teasing against her brow.

  “You’re a wonderful lover,” he said, his voice still husky with passion.

  Jane sighed, happier than she’d ever been in her life. Who could want more? She did! A devil perched itself on her shoulder. “Up and at ’em, big guy. You promised to sing and dance on this bed. I want to see you . . . jiggle and jingle.”

  Mike squeezed his eyes shut and looked as if someone had just stuck a knife into his gut. “Jane, have a heart. I won’t be able to jiggle.”

  “If I put on my floppsy-doodle-whatever-you-called-it hat and garter, do you think it will help?” Jane slipped out of bed to get her hat, which was sitting on the dresser. “Ah,” Jane said, settling the hat firmly on her curly head. She extended her leg to pull on the black garter.

  Mike lifted himself up on his elbow. “I want you to burn that hat, Jane. Swear to me you’ll burn that hat tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Now dance! With gusto!”

  6

  Jane rolled over, cracked one eyelid to look at the bedside clock, then at the empty side of the bed. She reached out to touch the pillow Mike had slept on before she moved her head to sniff it. One of these days she would have to ask him the name of his cologne. It was so sexy, just like him. There was a smile on her lips when the phone rang. Thinking it was Mike calling to say good morning, she answered with a cheery, “Good morning.”

  “Dr. Lewis?”

  The smile faded. “Speaking,” Jane responded to the unfamiliar voice.

  “I’m sorry to call so early, Dr. Lewis. This is Emily Quinn, Dr. Sharon Thomas’s secretary. Dr. Thomas is in the hospital. Her appendix ruptured, and they performed surgery yesterday. She’s fine, but she’s concerned about her patients. She wanted me to call and ask if you could take over her free clinic hours for a few weeks. All but one of her patients are routine. If you’re agreeable, I could drop off the files at your office on my way to work this morning. Her clinic hours are four to six.”

  Jane didn’t hesitate. “It will take some juggling, but yes, I can do it.”

  “Thank you, I know she’ll be very grateful.”

  “Is there anything I can do for Sharon?” Jane asked.

  “No, but I’ll tell her you asked. Oh, and if you decide to send flowers, she’s in Room 206, and she’s partial to daisies. I’ll be by around eight. Again, thank you, Dr. Lewis.”

  Jane put the phone down and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She eyed her running shoes and sweats on the chair. She could do a two-mile run and still make it to the office by eight. “The hell with it,” she muttered as she headed for the shower. She made a mental note to have Wynona order her a treadmill. Maybe she and Mike could take turns running on it. Falling off and making love on the floor would be nice. Real nice. The smile returned to her face as she stepped under the spray.

  The thought stayed with her until she parked the Honda in front of Trixie’s house. “Okay, Olive, Trixie is doing doggy day care today, so you have a good time with Flash, and I’ll pick you up on the way home. Go easy on the big guy, okay?” She tapped the horn and waited until she saw the front door open. Flash ran outside to greet Olive. Jane watched the unlikely pair as they sniffed each other’s tails. True love, she thought, chuckling. Maybe humans can learn a thing or two from dogs. I’ll have to ask Mike what he thinks.

  Jane arrived at her office at the same time Wynona pulled into the parking lot. They parked side by side and walked together to the office, with Jane explaining the day’s switch in scheduling. “Miss Quinn should be arriving shortly. Do the best you can with my own schedule, and if you have to cancel some of my appointments, that’s okay. Call Dr. Sorenson and remind him that he has to be at the studio fifteen minutes early. Then call the clinic and tell them I’ll be taking over for Dr. Thomas for the next few weeks while she recovers. I’m sure they already know, but do it anyway. I want to see the patient records as soon as Miss Quinn drops them off. Coffee as soon as you can manage it please, Wynona. And before I forget, call Sadie’s Flower Shop and have them send a basket of daisies to Dr. Thomas at the hospital, Room 206. Actually, Wynona, have them send two baskets. I’m sure Dr. Sorenson would want to send one also. Just make sure they don’t make the same arrangement for both of them. Have them charge it to my account.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right on it. Do you want donuts with your coffee?”

  “My mouth says yes, but my hips say no. No donuts. No pastries of any kind, thank you. Doesn’t that eyebrow ring hurt?”

  Wynona raised her hand to touch her right eyebrow. “No,” she said, wiggling the gold ring up and down. “I have one in my belly button, too. It doesn’t hurt either.”

  Jane grimaced. She remembered how schizy she’d been when she’d wanted to have her ears pierced. She’d insisted Trixie go with her, just in case something bad happened. “Why, Wynona? Why do you mutilate yourself like that?”

  “I don’t see it as mutilation. It all goes with being a free spirit. My boyfriend likes it. He has six of them.” Wynona took out her keys to open the office door. “Don’t you ever do anything impetuous, Dr. Lewis? When I’m old and sitting around in a rocking chair, I want to be able to tell my grandchildren that I experienced all kinds of wild, wonderful things.” Wynona held the door open as Jane walked inside.

  “I see,” Jane said, shaking her head as though to clear away cobwebs. She thought about Lily Owens, who was neat and attractive and who looked like the wholesome girl next door. “Hurry back, Lily,” she muttered under her breath as she headed for her own office.

  Wynona switched on the overhead lights. “No, you don’t see, but that’s okay. I’ll bring in your coffee as soon as it’s ready.”

  Jane nodded as the door closed behind her. Wynona was easier to take with a good cup of coffee in front of her.

  Twenty minutes later, the intercom on Jane’s desk buzzed. “Miss Quinn is here, Dr. Lewis.”

  “Thank you, Wynona. Send her in, please.”

  Miss Quinn was as wholesome-looking as Lily. Jane walked around her desk to offer her hand to the secretary, who was dressed in a sedate, dove gray suit.

  “When I told Dr. Thomas that you had agreed to take over for her, she was so relieved. She said she knows her patients will be in good hands.” Miss Quinn smiled at Jane as she set the stack of files on the desk. “As I said on the phone, most of her patients are routine. Only this one, Miss Vance, is a serious concern. She’s in a very fragile state, so you will have to be on twenty-four-hour call where she’s concerned. Is there anything you want to ask me before I leave?”

  “No. I’ll read over the files. If I have any questions, I’ll call you. If you speak with Dr. Thomas, give her my regards and wish her a speedy recovery.”

  “I’ll do that.” Miss Quinn started across the room toward the door. “Oh, by the way,” she said over her shoulder, “I like your radio show. I listen whenever
I can. My mother thinks you’re the greatest. I think she’s even called you a time or two about my little brother.” She rolled her eyes.

  “That’s nice to know,” Jane replied, a pleased smile curving her lips. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Wynona arrived with the coffee. Compared to Miss Quinn—There was no comparison. Today Wynona was attired in a dark green jumpsuit with a huge gold emblem on the chest-high pocket. Jane thought she looked like a string bean that was turning yellow from too much watering.

  “I wish I had the guts to dress like that,” Emily Quinn said as soon as Wynona left.

  Jane stared across at the young woman. “You do?”

  “You must be a twenty-first-century woman, Dr. Lewis. Dr. Thomas would never hire someone who looked like her. Image is important, she says.”

  “She’s right,” Jane said with a nod of agreement. “Wynona is a temp. She’s filling in until my regular assistant gets back from maternity leave. I think this whole ‘free spirit’ thing is fine, but I think it has its place, and a doctor’s office isn’t that place. But I have to admit, there are times I wish I had the guts to let it all hang out, to dress and wear my hair any way I feel like. I’ve never once ‘broken the rules.’ I grew up thinking my full name was Plain Jane.”

  “That’s right up there with what they called me. Prissy Emily.” The young woman waved as she closed the door behind her.

  “To all the Prissy Emilys and the Plain Janes of the world,” Jane said, holding her coffee cup aloft.

  Within minutes Jane was so engrossed in Betty Vance’s file, a bomb could have gone off outside her window and she wouldn’t have noticed. When she finished reading the lengthy reports, she closed the file and leaned back in her chair. Betty Vance was so deeply traumatized she was suicidal. She was also on heavy doses of Valium.

  Jane closed her eyes and gave Betty Vance’s case serious thought. Should she follow Sharon Thomas’s path or strike out on her own? She was no advocate of Valium or any other drug unless it was absolutely necessary. Dealing with a patient in a drug daze served no purpose in her opinion. Maybe she wasn’t the right person to treat Betty Vance. Coddling patients wasn’t her style. Children, yes. Adults, no. In most cases, six months of once-a-week treatments should have showed some results. But there were always the exceptions. Perhaps Betty needed more time—two or three times a week—and couldn’t get it because she was a clinic patient.

  Damn, now she was troubled. Betty Vance’s profile and record were going to eat at her all day. That meant she was going to have to take extra care on her talk show to put it on her mental shelf. She needed to be sharp and sassy today, with Mike sitting in on the session. She sighed as she reached for her coffee cup.

  “Wynona, more coffee!”

  Jane’s smile was of the megawatt variety when Mike Sorenson walked into the small, cramped studio.

  He looked around, his expression a study of confusion.

  “You were expecting . . . what?” Jane asked. God, he looks good enough to eat.

  “I don’t know. Maybe something a little bigger, a little more glamorous. My closet is bigger than this. Doesn’t it get to you?”

  “Only if the show is going slow. Most times I don’t think about my surroundings. I’m too busy talking and listening. It’s only an hour. Do you think some air fresheners would help?”

  “Are you kidding? Air fresheners just mask odors. We’d be gasping for breath.”

  Jane pretended to look offended. “Does that mean you aren’t impressed?”

  He shrugged.

  “Better not let Tom know how you feel. He thinks this,” she said, moving her arm in a wide arc, “is paradise. He even has a plaque on his desk that reads, SHANGRI-LA. By the way, I took the liberty of sending Sharon Thomas a basket of flowers for you. She’s in the hospital. Ruptured appendix. I’m taking over her clinic hours this afternoon, which means I’ll be running late tonight.”

  “I can’t make it tonight anyway, Jane,” he said, his voice full of regret. “I’ve got Rotary and a dinner meeting with an old school chum. I haven’t seen him in years. I forgot all about it until my secretary reminded me this morning. I can do a hot dog at Roy’s if you have time after the show.”

  “I’d love a hot dog at Roy’s after the show. With the works, of course.” Jane smiled as she took her seat. “We’re going to be talking about feelings today,” she said, putting on her professional hat as she reached for her earphones. “Keep your eyes on Tom. Just relax and everything will fall into place.” Jane waited for her cue.

  “This is Talk to Me, and I’m Dr. Jane Lewis speaking to you from the frog capital of the world. But then you already know Rayne is noted for its frogs. I have with me today Dr. Mike Sorenson, my new cohost. Today we’ll be talking about feelings—love, hate, joy, anger. Whatever you’re feeling. Give us a call at 1-800-888 TALK. Shelly is on the line. Talk to me, Shelly.”

  “Yes, Dr. Lewis. I’m worried that I love my dog more than I love my boyfriend, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Jane looked at Mike and grinned. “How long have you had your dog, Shelly?”

  “Five years. He’s seen me through thick and thin. I don’t know what I would have done without him when my father died.”

  “Okay, and how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

  “Six months.”

  “And has he seen you through thick and thin?”

  “No. This last year, my life has been pretty average.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about your feelings for your dog, Shelly. It’s perfectly natural to have strong feelings for a beloved pet, especially one who’s been there for you when things got tough. My springer spaniel means everything in the world to me. She’s my constant companion, my confidante, my confessor. She loves me unconditionally, and she brings me great joy. The longer you and your boyfriend stay together, the better the chance that your feelings for each other will grow. But don’t ever try to compare them to what you feel for your dog. That’s a unique relationship, and you’re entitled to love your dog as much as you want. The only time there’s a problem with that is if your significant other becomes jealous. Call me back if that happens, but if it doesn’t, feel free to love that dog of yours to your heart’s content. The next caller is Dan. Go ahead, Dan.”

  “Hey, listen,” a gruff, masculine voice came over the lines, “is fear a feeling?”

  Jane gave Mike a thumbs-up.

  “Yes, Dan,” Mike said, leaning toward the microphone. “Fear is a very strong feeling. What are you afraid of?”

  “Okay, man, I know you’re gonna think I’m nuts, but I’m telling you I’ve seen a ghost, and it’s scarin’ the hell out of me.”

  Mike sat up straight, his interest piqued. “I need more information, Dan. First of all, is the ghost male or female, about what age, and where do you see it?”

  “You—you believe me, man?”

  Mike understood Dan’s incredulity. “Sure, I believe you. I’ve done a lot of research into the paranormal. Now tell me about your ghost.”

  “It’s a woman, a middle-aged woman. She’s in my bathroom. I see her in the mirror when I’m shaving but nowhere else. She keeps opening her mouth like she’s trying to talk, but I can’t hear anything.”

  “Have you tried talking to her?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “First of all, Dan, let me assure you that there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Ghosts cannot hurt you. I repeat. They cannot hurt you. What I want you to do is to talk to her, ask her what she wants? Okay? Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, but what could she want?”

  “For some reason she hasn’t been able to cross to the other side. My guess is that when she died, she left something undone or has some unfinished business that won’t allow her spirit to rest. She’s looking for you to help her, Dan. Call us back after you’ve talked to her and tell us what happened.” Mike smiled across at Jane. “Now we’ve got Georgia on the line. Talk to me
, Georgia.”

  “Hi,” a young girl said. “I like these two guys in my school, but I can’t decide which one to pick.”

  “How old are you, Georgia?” Mike asked.

  “Sixteen.”

  “You don’t have to pick. There’s nothing wrong with dating them both.”

  “But my mom says that I should stick with one or the other.”

  “Can you put your mom on the phone, Georgia?” Mike and Jane listened while Georgia passed the phone to her mother.

  “I’m here,” a woman said. “And I don’t approve of her dating two boys at the same time.”

  “She’s only sixteen, Mom,” Mike said. “She’s much too young to make any kind of commitment, and dating one boy and only one is making a commitment. Please consider letting her play the field. The time will come all too soon when that will no longer be an option.”

  “I don’t know,” the mother said.

  “If she dates one boy for any length of time, she’ll be branded as his girl. Once that happens the other boys won’t ask her out, which means she won’t get an opportunity to date other guys.”

  “This is Dr. Lewis, Mom, and I’d like to add something to what Dr. Sorenson said. First, I absolutely agree with him. I think it’s important for a girl Georgia’s age to date different guys. It’s the act of dating that gives a girl the ability to know what kind of guy suits her so that later on she can make that one really important decision—who she’s going to marry. Besides that, if she only goes out with one guy, there’s a much greater chance that she’ll indulge in premarital sex and—”

  “Okay, okay, you win,” the mother said with annoyance. They heard the phone being set down.

  “Hello, Dr. Lewis? This is Georgia again. Thanks,” she said in a whispery voice.

  “You’re welcome, Georgia. Good luck. I’m Dr. Jane Lewis, and my cohost is Dr. Mike Sorenson. You’re listening to Talk to Me.”