by Alyssa Kress
Valerie tossed his chart onto her desk and paced around the room. At least Mrs. Gordon had assured her she could cover a consult with the hematologist and even the bone marrow aspiration they were going to have to do in Los Angeles. They could find out exactly what Nicky's problem was.
Not that they'd be able to do much about it.
Valerie hissed out a breath. She was ready to explode. It was at that moment her cell phone buzzed. Her personal cell.
Valerie stopped feeling like exploding. She froze. Was it Roy? Her stomach did a funny, squishy thing, something a stomach should not do to a woman who was determined to take charge of her love life.
Perhaps her stomach felt guilty, Valerie pondered, pulling her phone from her lab coat pocket. She'd avoided Roy's phone calls for the past two nights.
But she didn't think the falling sensation upon seeing Roy's number lit on the cell phone screen could properly be called guilt.
More like nerves, panic and — and —
Valerie frowned down at the phone still ringing in her hands. And...loneliness. It would be nice to talk to Roy right now, nice to unload about Nicky.
Besides, now was probably a good time to set up the talk where she put her foot down. She spent one more moment teetering between nerves and longing, then pressed her phone on. "Hello, Roy."
"Valerie."
That was it. That was all he had to say for his calm, deep voice to work its magic on her. Valerie's tensed muscles relaxed.
She released a deep, silent sigh. Please acknowledge: whether you like it or not, this man has a big effect on you.
"Um..." Roy sounded wary. "How've you been?"
Valerie might have enjoyed the sensation of having him on the defensive for once, if she wasn't knocked off balance by her own response to him, and also still upset about Nicky. No insurance.
"I've been fine." She walked toward her desk chair. "And you?"
"Can't complain."
Valerie sank into her chair. "I got the blood test results for that patient we were talking about the other day." The words just tumbled out of her. "They were lousy. Beyond terrible."
To her surprise, Roy didn't pause or question this abrupt change of topic. "Oh, jeez," he replied, instantly sympathetic. "I'm real sorry to hear that."
"Yeah. And this is the kicker." Valerie gave a harsh laugh. "He has no medical insurance. Can you believe that? Whatever's wrong with him is going to take hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of treatment, and he has no insurance!"
"No insurance." Roy paused. "But, don't you guys have to help somebody, no matter what? Didn't you take some kind of oath?"
"Machinery and lab technicians don't take oaths." Valerie hissed out a breath and ran a hand through her hair. "Hospitals don't take oaths."
"Ah. I'm beginning to see the problem."
Valerie set her elbow on the desk and rested her forehead on her palm. "I shouldn't be getting so involved." Nor dumping on you, of all people...
"Maybe you shouldn't, but...that's who you are."
A small laugh escaped Valerie.
"Hey, I like who you are," Roy said.
Stilling, Valerie stared at the beveled edge of her desk. He liked who she was. She closed her eyes as her heart did a somersault in her chest. But fine, fine. Lots of people liked her. Peter liked her, but he was now sleeping with Cindy Parker who worked next door.
She straightened and cleared her throat. "Thanks for listening, anyway. I...I feel a lot better now." And she did.
Maybe too much better.
Clearly, it was time to get started on the putting-her-foot-down business...before she went off the deep end. "Uh, listen." Her voice went a few notes higher. "I'm glad you called. There was, um, something I wanted to ask you."
There was a distinct pause from Roy's end before he said, "I'm listening."
Valerie took a deep breath. "My next appointment with my OB is Wednesday, at four-thirty. You said you wanted to meet her, and — "
"I'll be there."
Valerie blinked a few times. O-kay. That had been easy. She'd wanted their next meeting to be on territory where the advantage would be hers, and far away from any bedrooms. She hadn't expected to get her way so easily. "Oh," she said.
"Just give me her name and address and I'll meet you there. Unless you want me to pick you up at your office?"
"No, no. Meeting me at Dr. Janis's will be fine." One visit from Roy at her office had been quite enough.
"Say, you'll be ten weeks by then, right?" Roy started to sound excited. "The doctor might pick up a heartbeat."
Valerie couldn't help smiling. "She might. But don't be worried if it doesn't happen. It could be another couple weeks."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." He paused. "I'm normal, right? It isn't so unusual for a guy to get into this baby thing, is it?"
A chuckle escaped Valerie. "I imagine there's something of a spectrum on the subject."
"And I'm at the high end. You don't have to say it. But, listen." He paused again, and then lowered his voice a few registers. "I don't think I've ever told you, Val, how much I — Well, thanks. That's what I want to say. Thanks for keeping the baby, thanks for telling me about it, and — and letting me get involved. I guess you can see how important it is to me."
Valerie closed her eyes. A sword of pure emotion sliced through her.
"Val? You still there?"
Valerie covered the receiver while she cleared her clogged throat. "I'm here."
"So you'll give me that information, about the doctor?"
"I'll...email it to you. I, uh, gotta go now. I've got patients waiting."
"Oh. Sure."
"I'll email that to you." Valerie clicked off her phone and sat a moment, breathing deeply. She was not going to fall in love with him. She was not, she was not, she was not.
~~~
Kenny felt like a fool as he strolled up Brand Avenue in Palmwood on Friday night. Cherise wasn't going to be at Norman's Art Supply. Get real.
Nevertheless, he'd sweated bullets all week at the limit tables to make enough money for a nice date tonight, and then suffered the Greyhound ride from Vegas to Palmwood.
All to have this queen of a female stand him up.
The sky was getting ready for sunset, the sun hanging somewhere below the level of the stores to Kenny's right. Kenny sighed, knowing he'd had to try. When he thought of Cherise's incisive, dark eyes and her almost-smiling lips, he knew he'd had to make the effort, just in case.
He could see the sign above the store. In a minute he'd be able to see the sidewalk by the entrance. His stomach sank further. She wasn't going to be there.
She was there.
In front of the plate glass window displaying drafting tables, she stood with her arms and her ankles crossed. From fifty yards away, Kenny could see her disgust. She looked as if she were standing there quite against her better judgment.
From sinking depression, Kenny sprang to ebullient joy. That she was standing there at all was a major miracle. That she looked as if she wished she weren't was icing on the cake. Her acquiescence wasn't logical. She'd felt compelled.
Kenny felt a big kick inside. It was a familiar kick, one might say an unfortunately familiar kick. It was the kind of kick he knew from experience did not bode well for his future peace of mind, bank account, or prospective legal fees.
But Kenny wasn't worrying about the future as he hurried up the sidewalk. She was here, she was here. Wow.
"Cherise." He knew his smile was too wide as she finally looked up and saw him striding toward her. It gave her an unfair advantage for she'd see how deep he was. But Kenny refused to worry about that, either. He was too damn happy. "You look — terrific," he breathed and reached for her.
She'd straightened and uncrossed her arms. Her expression went from self-disgusted to icy. But the ice cracked when Kenny took her hands in his. She looked satisfyingly stunned when he pulled her close enough to press his lips, briefly, to hers.
It was anot
her burst of fireworks. Man, they were made for each other, had to be. Kenny pulled back and simply grinned, delighted.
Her stunned expression transformed into a scowl. "You know my name."
Kenny's wide grin dropped. "Uh..." Had he not been supposed to? Oh, jeez. She was right. He only knew her name because Roy had told him —
"You know Roy," she said, accusing. Taking advantage of Kenny's discomposure, she drew her hands from his.
"Uh...Yeah." Still off-balance, Kenny could think of no reason to deny it. "I know Roy."
"Roy, who's married to my friend, Valerie."
"Uh...Yeah." Calming, Kenny retrieved his grin. "Roy made me drive over with him on Tuesday, wanted me to stop him from trying to see Valerie. But he obviously didn't want to be stopped, so I jumped out of the car and...there you were." Kenny could feel his smile widen. "Now that's life for you. Lucky."
Cherise gave him a sidelong glance. "Is that what life is?"
"Uh huh."
Her lips flattened. "It was lucky that your friend, Roy, had to marry Valerie?"
The way she said it told Kenny she knew of the, er, circumstances behind Roy's marriage. Kenny bit the inside of his cheek. Worse, though, than the less-than-ideal reason for the nuptials was what Roy had said over Isaac's poker table the other night. He'd denied wanting love.
But rather than voice his concerns, Kenny waxed philosophical. "Who knows? Roy and Valerie may work things out. But that's not anything I have a say about." Kenny smiled again, and very deliberately took Cherise's arm. "So let's stick to things we do have a say about, like what we're gonna do tonight. Any ideas?"
She glared at him.
Clearly, she was not ready to admit she'd planted herself outside Norman's Art Supply in order to spend time with him. Probably thought she'd come in order to grill him about Roy.
Kenny patted Cherise's hand. He could feel the electricity humming between them like an almost living thing. This was, of course, the real reason she was here. But she'd figure that out soon enough. "Let's walk," he said.
"Walk?"
Arm in arm, Kenny started them down the sidewalk. "Had to sell the Porsche to make this month's mortgage payment. Walking's the only option tonight, doll."
He could feel her dark eyes widen on him. "You had to sell your car to make your mortgage?"
Kenny shrugged. "Some days I'm filthy rich, others I'm broke. I'm just glad I had the Porsche so I was able to avoid another foreclosure this year."
Her brown eyes grew into saucers. "You've already had a foreclosure — this year?"
Smiling genially Kenny patted her hand. Despite her apparent horror, she was still walking with him. "Oh, you know how it is. Easy come, easy go."
"No," Cherise told him. "I don't know how that is."
Kenny laughed. "You've never messed up in your life, have you, doll?"
He could feel her stiffen against his arm. Every lovely, competent inch of her.
"Don't think I'm laughing at you." Kenny gave her arm a happy squeeze. "That's what I find attractive about you. Your control, discipline... Wariness." He chuckled. "Everything I'm not."
"So that's the attraction." She gave him a tilt-headed regard. "For you. But what, pray, am I supposed to see in you?"
Chuckling as they walked, Kenny skimmed his lips across her cheek. "I think you know."
She pulled back from the skimming kiss and narrowed her eyes at him. "No," she said. "Please tell me."
"Fun," Kenny said, and watched her eyes widen again. Oh, she was so much fun. So...satisfying. "Come on," he said, and pulled her along. "I'll show you."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was fun.
Cherise didn't want to admit it, of course. She hadn't stood outside Norman's Art Supply to wait for Kenny in order to have fun. She'd come...in order to kill the mystique of him, to turn him back into a mortal being, one who didn't have any power over her. She was not the sort of woman who would embark on a relationship with a man who didn't own a car.
But she did have fun.
From Brand Avenue, he turned down Wesley Street. It was almost sunset, about to get dark, but he made her go into a dog park.
"I don't like dogs," Cherise told him.
"Everybody likes dogs." With her hand in his, he plowed past the chain link gate and into the wood chip area filled with romping, smelly dogs. A gigantic chocolate lab immediately charged toward them. It was as if the animal magically sensed Cherise's fear.
Her hand tightened in Kenny's. He seemed to understand, putting his arm around to draw her close while slanting his body forward to intercept the lab.
"Good boy! Good. Oh, you're a beauty, aren't you?" With ebullient praise, Kenny rubbed the dog until it stopped threatening to leap on top of them. The dog melted into a delighted puddle at Kenny's feet. "Go on," he told Cherise. "Pet him."
Cherise eyed the brute, who weighed ninety pounds if he weighed an ounce. "You must be kidding."
"Bring your hand down." Kenny pulled her down until her palm connected with the dog's heaving side. "Pet." With his hand over hers, guiding, she stroked the animal's soft, close-growing hair. The dog lifted its head to look at her, teeth exposed, tongue lolling.
Normally, Cherise would have assumed that many teeth meant it was about to bite her. But somehow just then, with Kenny's arm around her waist and his hand holding hers over the dog's silky fur, she saw the scene differently. "Why, he's smiling at me!" she realized.
Kenny chuckled. "He's in love with you."
"Oh, come on." But just then the dog curled its neck so his tongue could lap the back of her hand. "Well, maybe he likes me," Cherise allowed, and laughed when the dog licked her again. The lab's big eyes adored her.
"See?" Kenny said. "I told you everybody likes dogs."
Cherise whipped her head around. But Kenny didn't look smug, just...everlastingly cheerful. He looked like a transmitter for every happy thought there was in the world.
Crazy. The man was absolutely nuts.
When the owner of the dog, an octogenarian with a hunchback and a wispy beard, struck up a conversation with Kenny, Cherise could tell they might have talked all night. She had a feeling Kenny could make a slug feel loved.
But Kenny didn't spend all night with the lab's owner. He pulled Cherise out of the dog park, and back to Brand Avenue. They went through the indoor mall, where, with a wink, Kenny led her to the top floor of the fancy department store. "Here," he said, bringing her over to the minks. "Try these on."
"I thought you wanted me to love animals. Now you're telling me to wear them?" But Cherise was already stroking the extraordinary fur. Sable, fox, mink.
"Just for a few minutes," Kenny said, low, and giving a wary glance around, apparently watching out for an actual salesman. He nudged her toward the coats. "It's like trying on another lifestyle. Fun," he said.
He was right. It was fun. Standing before the three-part mirror, the collar of a mink coat tickling her cheeks, Cherise felt like she was stepping into another lifestyle: fairy princess, New York fashion mogul, Cruella DeVil.
She laughed.
"I'm starving," Kenny announced. "Where should we eat?"
"You mean within walking distance?" Cherise laid the mink coat down with a sigh. "That'd be the food court."
She looked up to see Kenny's grin. "I appreciate the good sportsmanship," he said, "but I can do better than that. Just tell me where's the food you like best to eat in Palmwood." He leaned toward her. "For what do your taste buds yearn?"
Cherise got a hit of him, his vibrant energy, his masculine drive. She felt her nerve ends quiver. You, she thought. My taste buds yearn for you. "Ahem. La Cucina," she said aloud. "Italian, but surprising." She tilted her head. "And also three miles away from here." Yes, he didn't have a car. She had to remember just who she was dealing with here.
"You've never heard of a cab?" Kenny asked.
Not in Palmwood Cherise hadn't. Having a car was like having a brain. Absolutely necessary. "You ar
en't going to find a cab on Brand Avenue," she warned.
Kenny's teeth flashed. "Just watch me."
They didn't find a cab. Kenny conjured the station wagon of the octogenarian with the chocolate lab. The old man, whose phone number Kenny had popped into his cell phone at the park, was delighted to ferry them downtown. Candy, the lab, panted happily in the rear compartment, somehow managing to stick his tongue between the metal grid separating them to lick Cherise's ear. Kenny grabbed her, laughing, when she jumped.
"No, it was just...a surprise," Cherise told the old man, Joe, when he expressed remorse. "He's such a...sweet dog."
Kenny used the opportunity to put his arm around Cherise's waist and murmur warmly in her ear. "You're sweet." He bussed her neck. "Now sweetness from you I hadn't guessed."
Cherise didn't jump then. She nearly purred.
How? How did this man have such an...irrational effect on her? She shouldn't have waited outside Norman's Art Supply to meet him. She shouldn't have walked down the street with him when she'd discovered he didn't even have a car. And here she was...wondering what it would be like to go to bed with him.
Crazy. She was absolutely insane.
At La Cucina, Kenny murmured something to the starchy maitre d', who immediately smiled and led them past the waiting crowd to a cozy booth in the corner.
"I'm not going to ask how you did that," Cherise announced, as they seated themselves at the linen-covered table.
"Good, 'cause you don't wanta know." He scooted into the banquette right beside her, instead of around the corner where he belonged. Cherise felt his muscled thigh press against her own. Smiling, he tapped his toe on top of hers. "Hungry?" he asked.
Her blood rushing, Cherise cleared her throat and picked up one of the menus. "Starved," she replied. "I'd like the veal parmigiana."
"Oh, good, a meat eater. I was worried." Kenny opened his own menu calmly, as if he hadn't a moment before made a sexual overture.
It was time to get back to reality, Cherise decided. She had to remember who this fellow was and why she needed to apply some serious brakes here. She was about to act as stupid as Valerie.
She waited until they'd given their orders and had an artichoke dip placed before them. Then, choosing a bread stick, Cherise asked, "You said you aren't currently married — "
