His eyes twinkled. "For anything. I've always liked impulsive women. Just name the date."
"Give me a few hours," she suggested, enjoying the easy rapport that had been established so quickly and so effortlessly between them. "I might hire a partner without references, but I make it a policy never to take a husband without reading his résumé first."
No one noticed that Kevin was the only one not laughing. He excused himself abruptly to refill his coffee cup, and he didn't come back. Kate tried not to let his precipitous departure spoil the first break in the gloom she had experienced since the beginning of the nightmare. And it must have been her guilt working again, because her good humor evaporated like smoke as she watched Kevin walk away.
Jeff followed her eyes as Kevin made his way through the crowd and out of the building. Under the cover of Iris and Jason's conversation with the minister, who had joined their table, he asked mildly, "What is a guy like that doing here, anyway?"
Instantly and unpreventably, Kate sprang to Kevin's defense, surprising herself as much as she did Jeff. "For the past eighteen hours," she responded shortly, "he's been saving lives, fighting a tornado and trying to put the pieces of this town back together.''
She saw a flash of startled confusion in his eyes, and she realized immediately how curt—and uncalled for—her tone had been. Jeff murmured, "Just curious," and turned his attention to his coffee cup as he lifted it for a final sip.
Kate sighed, passing a hand over her rumpled bangs, disordering them further. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap." She ventured an uncertain glance at him. "Kevin and I are old friends," she explained by way of further apology. "I'm used to taking care of him."
"Oh, really?" His mild gray eyes registered no surprise, but instead held a measure of perception that Kate found unsettling. "I would have thought it was the othor way around."
But before she could question or refute, he pushed away his tray and smiled, changing the subject. "This creates an awkward professional situation, I realize, but I'm sure you understand that when I came down for the interview I wasn't prepared for anything like this." He glanced around the room with a rueful twist of his lips. "I don't like leaving you in the lurch, but I really have to get back to my own patients in the morning."
"Of course," Kate agreed at once, and she smiled. "And please believe me, I didn't stage all this just to see how you cope with pressure. I'm fairly exacting, I'll admit, but I usually settle for a more orthodox interview."
"Which we haven't even gotten to yet," he reminded her.
"Why don't you go get some sleep now," she suggested, "and meet me back at the clinic about three o'clock this afternoon. We can get the formalities over with then."
"Be glad to. But all of this is a bit like having the wedding night before the wedding, isn't it?"
Kate laughed. "There are advantages to that, too, of course."
"So there are.'' His smile was warm as he got to his feet and extended his hand. "I'll see you this afternoon. If you need me before then, I left the number of the motel with Iris."
Kate stayed a few more minutes, talking with Iris and her father; then she collected her father's car keys and left the table to search for Kevin. There was no point in putting it off any longer.
She found Kevin sitting outside on the steps that overlooked the west parking lot, sipping his coffee and observing the workings of a lineman in a treetop across the way. He heard her approach but did not look around, and Kate felt a strange tingling sensation in her stomach as she looked at him.
Bits of sunlight were diffused against his tousled hair, emphasizing its sheen and giving it a rakish bedroom look as it curled over his collar and brushed his temples. The scrub of a morning beard added a degree of ruggedness to his face that was unfairly appealing, and even his rumpled clothes and the improvised sling on his arm enhanced an image that was masculine and subtly exciting. On anyone else the ravages of the night would have looked haggard and unkempt; on Kevin they simply looked sexy.
She came up beside him and sat down. "How's your shoulder this morning?"
"Stiff." He sipped his coffee, and there was no hostility in his tone. "Not bad."
She lifted his fingers in the sling, examining his fingertips for signs of impaired circulation. They were pink and healthy and warm. He had lovely slim fingers, soft and uncallused. She held them lightly between hers for a moment longer, and then said briskly, "Would you unbutton your shirt for me, please?"
His eyes sparked with a semblance of his old teasing. "Is that by way of a proposition?"
"If it were a proposition," she returned tartly, and began to work the buttons herself, "I'd ask you to drop your pants. That's just about the only part of you I haven't seen on television, anyway." It was only a light comment, similar to dozens she had made to him before, but it didn't sound right this morning. There was an awkwardness between them—or perhaps simply an awareness—that made everything double-edged, and the innocent remark sounded more sexually motivated than it was meant. She even found herself unable to meet his eyes as she explained, a bit too efficiently, "I need to check your dressing."
"That's the trouble with you, Katie," he murmured. "The only way you know how to relate to people is as a doctor." That remark, too, had a bite to it, and one she wasn't at all sure she wanted to understand. So she said nothing.
She pushed the material away from his shoulder and found the dressing to be clean and dry. She could feel Kevin's eyes on her as she hastily rearranged his shirt and closed the buttons, but she didn't look at him. "Stop by later and I'll change it for you," she said. "But it looks good. The stitches should come out by the end of the week."
He took another sip of his coffee.
Kate drew a breath, gathering her courage, and finally was able to look at him. His profile in the filtered morning sunlight looked strong, yet at the same time vulnerable, wonderfully familiar and yet different. Remembering the comfort she had taken in his arms last night, remembering the sensation of his mouth on hers, brought back a swift rush of tangled emotions—confusion and anxiety and warmth, a yearning kind of warmth that made her want to lay her head against his shoulder and have him tell her that everything was all right. And then shame—not for the events of the night but for her behavior of the morning.
She said softly, "Kevin... I'm sorry I snapped at you this morning."
He glanced at her, and there was a moment of hesitance in which she held her breath. Then he smiled faintly, and everything was all right. "That's okay. I wasn't in such a great mood myself."
She smiled back, and the relief was wonderful. She had never realized before what a desolate feeling it could be to have Kevin angry at her, perhaps because it had never mattered before. She moved her arm, and her instinct was to put it around his waist, to embrace him briefly, and then to lie against him and enjoy the sensation of being close to him, of being friends. But a moment of awkwardness interrupted the movement, and she didn't know why. Perhaps it was because she was remembering the last time she had been in his arms and the memory made so simple a gesture as a friendly hug seem uncertain, even dangerous.
So she merely rested her weight on her palm behind him and hoped he didn't notice anything awkward in the motion. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of hammering and chain saws, of heavy equipment and foremen shouting faint and distant orders.
Kevin said, half glancing at her, "That Brandon fellow—do you like him?"
She was a little surprised. "Well... yes. Don't you?"
He shrugged, staring at his coffee. "Sure. I mean, if he's a good doctor... and you needed a partner. I'm glad you've got someone to take some of the load off you. It will give you more time for yourself, you know."
She laughed somewhat stiffly. "I don't know about that. I never thought about needing free time. What would I do with it?"
There was no mistaking the slyness in his glance this time. "You might have an affair. With your new partner, perhaps?"
She stared at him, torn between an urge to laugh and the very unsettling notion that Kevin might be serious. "Why in the world would I want to do that?"
"Don't you think he's good-looking?"
"Is he?" She tried to match her casual tone to Kevin's. "Why? This doesn't have anything to do with that stupid conversation at breakfast, does it?"
He looked uncomfortable, and he pretended a great interest in the work of the lineman in the distance. "Maybe. I've just never seen you flirt before. And I guess I never thought of you with another man."
Another man... She almost said it out loud. But it was all too confusing, and she wasn't certain how deep she wanted to get into this conversation when she understood so little of it. But one thing was clear, and it registered with a little thrill of pleasure and cautious disbelief that surprised her. Kevin was jealous.
Kevin chose that moment to offer his coffee cup to her, almost as though to distract her, and she shook her head. Silence fell, and it seemed there were a dozen things to be said between them and both of them were holding back. That had never happened between Kevin and her before.
She thought again about slipping her arm around his waist just to reestablish the old rapport. Except that the old rapport had not included a great deal of touching, at least not in the way she wanted to touch him now. Because when she imagined the two of them sitting here together, with her arm around him, she also imagined her hand slipping beneath his untucked shirt, along the smooth, lean muscles of his back, feeling his skin and his strength, touching and caressing him just for the pleasure of it. Thinking about it made her heart beat faster.
It had been Kevin who backed away last night, not her. If he hadn't stopped, she would have made love with him on the floor of her office without a second thought.
The admission was shocking, but she couldn't deny it no matter how much she tried. A caldron of twisting, jumbled emotions tipped over inside her, scattering reason to the wind. She wondered if Kevin knew how she had felt last night, how far she would have gone, and if that was why he stopped. She wondered whether, if he had known, he would have stopped at all.
It was crazy. It was stress, high-anxiety instincts for comfort and reassurance, and yes, even sex, but no more.. There was nothing between Kevin and her; there never had been, and there never could be. It was just the moment, the situation, an escapist fantasy. But even now her pulse was more rapid than it should be. Her skin felt heated, and there was a flutter of question, of eagerness, in her stomach when she thought about him. He seemed so different this morning. Everything seemed different this morning.
Trying to keep the conversation on a rational level, she said, "I guess you'll be glad to get home.'' She was pleased to find that her voice sounded normal. Casual and friendly and hardly breathless at all.
He made a wry sound low in his throat. "If it's still standing."
It took her a moment to realize he was talking about his home here, in Victoria Bend. "No, I meant to Los Angeles."
He turned to her, and the look in his eyes was slowly surprised, as though he had, in fact, forgotten such a place existed. And then he smiled, though it was a vague and distant expression. "Right." His eyes moved away, a puzzled, faintly reminiscent expression crossing his face. "It won't seem the same somehow. I guess maybe nothing will ever seem the same after this."
Silence fell, long and sweet. It was a shared moment, like so many they had had before, yet with a poignancy and a depth they had never known before. Nothing would ever be the same, because the two of them would never be the same. It was both a sad and an exhilarating realization.
And then Kevin tossed out the remainder of his coffee and got to his feet. "Well," he said, "I've got things to do. So do you."
"Yes." She stood beside him, and for a moment they looked at each other. His eyes were slightly crinkled with the rays of a cloudy sun, dark burnished mirrors in which she could see a faint reflection of herself. Once again she felt the powerful instinct to touch him, to lift her hand and stroke his cheek, to feel the soft bristled texture under her palm, to trace the strong profile, and then perhaps to lean forward and kiss him lightly on the lips.
Because he was watching her so intently, almost as though he could read her thoughts or as though he were waiting for her to make a move, she felt a slight twinge of embarrassment, or shyness, and she dropped her eyes. He took the cue.
"I'll see you later, then, Katie." His voice was casual.
"Right.''
She wanted to call out to him as he turned and walked away, but she didn't know what to say. So she simply watched until he was gone, and then she took out the keys and went in search of her father's car.
Chapter Seven
On her way to the hospital Kate stopped in a nearby town and bought the first outfit she saw—a white full skirt and a peacock-blue peasant blouse. At least she told herself the only reason for the impulsive purchase was because she didn't have time to be more discriminating. But as she went into the dressing room to change, she began to wonder.
The pants and blouse that had seen her through the storm were totally unsalvageable, and she didn't have the time—or the spirit, at this point—to go home and sort through the rubble for her own clothes. But as she looked at her reflection in the dressing-room mirror, she was amazed at the transformation.
The shoulders and bodice of the blouse were filled in with cotton netting from just above her bra to the neckline, which closed with criss-crossed ties and gave a more than provocative view of the beginning of her décolletage. The soft cotton material caressed the shape of her breasts and hugged her waist with smocking and wide elastic, and the brilliant blue improved her complexion enormously, deemphasizing the hollow circles under her eyes and adding flecks of light to her irises. The full skirt floated gently over her hips and outlined the shape of her thighs, falling in abundant caressing folds to the middle of her calves. The effect was delicate and sensuous, and it surprised Kate but did not entirely displease her. She rarely wore skirts, thinking them too frivolous and unprofessional looking, preferring the comfort and maneuverabihty of less feminine pants and blazers. She tried not to think about why, today, she would want to look feminine, and buttoned her lab coat over her new outfit as she left the store.
Her patients were divided between two local hospitals, one of which was fifty miles away, and she spent more time than she had intended to with each patient, as well as conferring with her colleagues and listening to more stories than she wanted to about the effects of the storm in neighboring towns. It was after lunch when she arrived back at the clinic to find the situation there much more controlled than she had expected.
Her secretary had canceled all but the most urgent regular appointments that day to make room for follow-up checks on the injuries she had treated last night. She wasn't very surprised to notice that most people had better things to do today than visit the doctor, and by three o'clock she placed the last file on her secretary's desk. "The insurance companies are going to go berserk," she said. "What have we heard on federal disaster assistance?"
"The governor flew in this morning. We probably won't get the exact figures for a couple of days."
Kate nodded soberly, thinking about the lives that had been destroyed, the years of working and building that no amount of money could replace. She started to go back to her office, then paused, gesturing to the account ledger. "What insurance doesn't cover," she suggested, "just write off, okay?"
"I like your style, Dr. Larimer."
Kate looked up at the male voice to see Dr. Brandon approaching. He looked rested and well-groomed, and she met his smile with a slightly self-deprecating smile of her own. "I never promised you we'd make a profit," she said, and gestured him toward her office. "Fortunately for you, we haven't signed any agreements yet. Now's your chance to back out."
"I think it may be too late." He touched her back lightly at the door of her office, allowing her to precede him, and his eyes were warm and relaxed. "I've
grown rather fond of this place."
Their meeting went quickly, because Kate knew Jeff had a long drive back and did not want him to get a late start. She explained the technicalities of the junior partnership she was offering, and he found the terms satisfactory—although she was offering him a slightly smaller salary than what he was making now as a staff surgeon at a large metropolitan hospital. He explained to her in his easy, clear-eyed way that he was looking for a change in life-style as well as a chance at private practice, and since he didn't have a family to support, now seemed the perfect time to make the move. Kate once again thought how lucky she was to have found him.
"The practice is growing," she assured him, "along with the town. Don't think a little thing like this storm is going to get us down. And once the hospital is built, I expect we'll have call for more physicians. For now, we'll get you on staff at County General, which is where we admit most of our patients. I'll take you over there and show you around the next time you're in town; I think you'll find their facilities adequate for the kind of work we'll be doing."
They talked for a time longer about procedures and methodologies, and the conversation only confirmed what Kate already knew: their philosophies about medicine and the doctor-patient relationship were in perfect agreement, and she couldn't have found a more compatible partner if she had custom designed him. At four o'clock she reluctantly drew the interview to a close, for she enjoyed Jeff's company and was excited about the plans they were making. It was agreed that they would meet again in two weeks, when he would be down to begin searching for a house, and that he should be ready to join her practice by the end of June.
He clasped her hand warmly as he stood to go. "I've waited a long time for an opportunity like this, Kate," he said sincerely. "I think I'm going to be happy here."
After The Storm (Men Made in America-- Mississippi) Page 10
