Dr. Campbell stood at the far end of the room, leaning into a cage, his stethoscope on the chest of a big orange tabby cat. If I’d known he was there I would have checked on Maude later.
“Yes,” I said, turning my attention back to Carl. “I’m so glad she’s okay. She’s one of my favorites.”
“Hey, now, Dr. Rachel, you’re not supposed to have favorites.” Carl hauled himself to his feet, wet rags in his hands.
I laughed. “Don’t tell anybody.”
Luke Campbell was closing the cat’s cage.
I unlatched the door of Maude’s cage and swung it open. She lay motionless on her nest of blankets, her eyes closed. A thick bandage encased her fractured leg. Earlier that day Tony Bonelli had installed a permanent plate to support the damaged bone, and Maude was still groggy from the anesthesia and painkiller.
“Hi, Maude, it’s me,” I whispered, stroking her ear. Most of the blood had been cleaned off, but I felt tiny bumps of it, hard and dry, under the hair.
Her eyes half-opened. Slowly the white tip of her tail lifted in salute then dropped again.
“Ah, sweet girl,” I said. Behind me I heard Dr. Campbell’s footfalls, rubber soles on vinyl tile, coming closer. Why hadn’t I turned around and left when I saw him in here? “You’re going to be fine.”
“She’s got a good attitude,” Dr. Campbell said. He’d come up on my right.
“Yeah,” I said. “She’s a plucky little pooch. How’s the cat?”
“Better than I thought she’d be at this point. She came in this morning in bad shape. Pulmonary edema.”
I motioned at Maude. “Would you mind having a listen? I was about to check her over, but since I’ve got a cardiologist right here I might as well make use of you.”
He laughed. “Sure.”
I moved aside, and he leaned over Maude, murmuring reassuringly when she stirred. With one hand he positioned the stethoscope bell on her chest; with the other he stroked her muzzle. His rolled-up sleeves exposed the ropy muscles of his forearms. I watched his eyes lose focus and his face go still as he concentrated on Maude’s heartbeat throbbing in his ears.
He straightened and dropped the stethoscope earpieces around his neck. “Sounds good. Her lungs are clear, her heart’s strong, respirations normal.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” He was smiling, but his eyes were reflective, considering, as if he had something to say and was weighing his words.
Carl had left the room, I realized. “Well, good luck with the cat.” I closed Maude’s cage and started for the door.
“Rachel?” he said. “Could you stay a second?”
Reluctantly, I faced him again. Yes, he’s going to have a little talk with me.
He raked back his sandy blond hair, then jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. His eyes met mine briefly before sliding away. “I’ve got a little free time and I was wondering if, uh, you’d like to walk over to that coffee place with me.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ve never had a café latte, or whatever it’s called. I’d like to expand my experience.”
I was flummoxed. He wanted to go to Starbucks? And why was he suddenly acting like an awkward boy? It dawned on me that he wasn’t looking forward to our talk, and he wanted to get me on neutral ground for it. Resigned, I said, “Sure.” I glanced at my watch. “But I’ve got a patient in—”
“Forty-five minutes. I checked your schedule.”
I was too surprised to say anything but, “Oh.”
We walked around the corner, under flowering crab apple trees, on a sidewalk dotted white with fallen blossoms. He moved with a long-legged lope, hands in his pockets. He’d pulled on a denim jacket over his faded blue shirt. It occurred to me I’d never seen him in one of the white lab coats the other vets wore.
He asked, startling me, “Why does everybody get so dressed up for work?”
I’d have to remember that he could read minds. “Old habits. Dr. McCutcheon was fussy about the staff’s appearance. Ties for the men, no jeans, but he did let the women wear slacks. Lab coats for the doctors, always.”
He pulled a face as if he’d been caught at something. “I must look like a fish out of water.”
“Dr. Campbell, you own the place now. You can come to work in a dress if you want to.”
He laughed, a warm deep laugh, and I had to smile at the image I’d called up.
“I can promise I’ll never show up in a dress, but I don’t think you’ll see me in a tie either. And call me Luke, okay?”
“Oh, sorry. Sure.”
This was all very friendly so far.
Starbucks, a tan stucco building with green trim and awnings, was on Chain Bridge Road next to a 7-Eleven and across from an auto tire store. Despite the poverty of the view, two couples drinking coffee at sidewalk tables seemed to be enjoying the bright brisk day. A dark-haired young man raised his face to the sunshine with that goofy can-you-believe-winter’s-over expression people get in spring. Inside, half a dozen customers stood in line at the service counter.
Although I’d eaten my sandwich lunch less than an hour before, my mouth watered when I breathed in the aromas of coffee, nuts, mint, chocolate. Luke’s face took on a comically bewildered expression as he studied the list of coffees posted behind the service counter. “Mocha, mocha almond, hazelnut,” he read aloud. “Whew. I’m just a country boy. I’m dazzled.”
I smiled. “Dazzled by coffee. You’ve led a sheltered life.”
“You choose for me,” he said. “I trust you.”
“Okay, let’s keep it basic.”
I ordered two short lattes, wondering if all this geniality was supposed to make me more receptive to criticism. I decided to beat him to it. As soon as we sat down with our coffee at one of the little round tables, I said, “If this is about my behavior yesterday, I’d like to apologize. You don’t have to tell me it was pretty strange—”
“Good God,” he said, sitting back. “Did you think I brought you over here to talk about that? It’s the last thing on my mind. Forget it.”
“Oh.” What were we doing here then, drinking coffee at Starbucks in the middle of the work day?
He wasn’t ready to tell me. He said, “I think Dr. McCutcheon might come storming back from Florida and kick me out in the street if he heard I wasn’t being nice to you. You’re pretty special to him.”
“Dr. Mac’s taught me a lot. He let me start working at the clinic as an aide part-time when I was sixteen.”
Luke nodded, but seemed distracted. I wished he’d get on with it, whatever it was.
Instead, he asked, “Have you heard from him since he retired?”
“He called me last week, actually. He wanted to know how you were working out.”
Luke laughed. “I hope you gave me a good report.”
“Glowing.”
“Right answer.”
This time we both laughed. Then we fell silent, and the silence stretched out long enough to be uncomfortable. I didn’t want to keep up the chat, though. I wanted to know what was really on his mind.
“Look,” he said. That disarming awkwardness reappeared, and once he started his words tumbled out in a rush. “This is my clumsy way of trying to get to know you better. Personally, not professionally. Now, if you think this is politically incorrect, or you’re involved with somebody, or you just think I’m a creep and you want me to buzz off, say so now and that’ll be the end of it, no hard feelings.”
I stared at him. Then I burst out laughing.
His embarrassment was too naked to miss, but he hid it quickly behind a self-deprecatory grin. “I guess that’s better than a slap in the face.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. It’s not you—” I tried to suppress it, but laughter kept bubbling out. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Outside the window, a young couple in business clothes held hands across a sidewalk table.
“Don’t tell me you had no idea I was interested,” Luke said.
Now I looked at him, a
nd sobered. My relief at what he hadn’t said gave way to astonishment at what he had said. “No. My gosh, no. I never expected—” I shook my head. “Why don’t you try your coffee before it gets cold?”
He seemed glad to have something to do. He grabbed his cup, took a gulp, and coughed. “Strong,” he choked out.
I resisted the urge to smile. “It’s loaded with caffeine. You’ll be wired all afternoon if you drink too much.”
“No danger of that.” He set down the cup and pushed it aside. Then he leaned on his arms, studying me. “So, have I just made a total fool of myself, or is there some remote chance we could get to know each other away from work? I feel like I have to come right out with it like this because of our professional situation. I can’t exactly—” He searched for a word and came up with one I found charmingly old-fashioned. “—court you at the clinic. And the last thing I want to do is pressure you. This doesn’t have any bearing on your job, now or ever.”
I sipped my coffee, giving myself time to think. His whole body seemed to be straining toward me, and the intensity of his gaze weighed on me like a demand.
Why me? A useless question. Who could explain the spark between two people? Why not me?
And why not him? The truth was I’d been fighting a sneaking attraction to him since the day we met. Intellect and skill plus rangy, boyish good looks—an irresistible combination.
I yanked myself back to reality. Why not him? One very good reason: he was my boss. I was used to casual relationships that were fun for a while and ended with no bothersome consequences. A relationship with my boss could never end cleanly.
Setting down my cup, I said, “This is flattering, but—”
When I broke off, he waited a second, then prompted, “But?”
“It’s not that I don’t—It’s just—It can get messy, seeing somebody you work with. Not that I know firsthand. I just imagine it could be. Don’t you?” Good grief. I was babbling. “I mean, after they break up they still have to work together—”
He threw up his hands with a laugh. “You haven’t gone out with me yet, and you’re already planning the breakup.”
“Well—” I shrugged. “You have to look ahead.”
He leaned toward me again. “I am looking ahead, Rachel.”
For a moment he did nothing but smile at me, and everything he imagined for us was clear in his eyes. All trace of the awkward boy was gone. I held his gaze. His eyes were deep blue. Heat bloomed inside me and rose to warm my skin. He slid a hand across the small table, next to mine, an inch away. I wanted him to touch me, and was afraid he would.
I drew back.
“Let me think about it,” I said, and I heard the huskiness in my voice. I’d think about it, all right. I’d go wild thinking about it.
He sat back too. “Good enough.”
He sipped his coffee again, winced, and we both laughed too much.
A moment passed in silence, then he said, “Will I be pushing my luck if I invite myself over to see your hawk? How’s the wing doing, by the way?”
“The bird seems to think it’s ready to go.” Did I dare let Luke come to the house? My young, single, handsome boss—Mother would jump to conclusions and be full of questions. “I removed the binding last weekend, and he’s been exercising it. He’ll fly again, I’m sure.”
“You did a neat job placing that pin,” Luke said. “What’s your rehab setup like?”
“I’ve got outdoor space for several large animals and some smaller cages I can set up indoors if I need them. The hawk’s outdoors.”
“This is in your yard?”
“Yeah. Well, my mother’s yard. It’s her house.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows shot up, and for a second he seemed to consider. “You live with your mother.”
It occurred to me that it might seem odd, a woman my age still living at home. Normally I never gave it a second thought, but for some reason I wanted to justify it to him. “Yes,” I said. “It’s convenient, it’s near work. And my mother has a big beautiful house. I couldn’t afford comfort like that on my salary.”
“You mean your boss doesn’t pay you enough?”
“Oh, I’m not angling for a raise. He has a big loan to pay off.”
“You’re very understanding.” We grinned at each other like flirting kids. “Your father, does he live in that big beautiful house too?”
“No, he doesn’t.” Last night’s black dreams ambushed me, made my breath catch in my throat. I lifted my cup, put it down again because my hand was trembling. With an effort I shoved the invading phantoms out of my head and slammed the door. “My sister lives at home, though,” I added, surprised my voice was steady.
“So, tell me,” he said, “what do you do when you, uh, have a visitor and you want privacy?”
I watched his long fingers lightly stroke the side of his cup and let myself imagine his touch on my cheek, my neck. What would he be like, avid or gentle? Both, I thought. Yes, both.
“Privacy’s out of the question,” I said, mock serious. “We sit in the parlor and make conversation with my mother and sister.”
“Very proper.”
He was leaning forward, and I’d almost unconsciously moved closer. I had a quick and vivid fantasy of him ravishing me, or me ravishing him, in the middle of Starbucks on that little green table, with clerks and customers cheering us on.
“So,” he said, “can I come and see your hawk?”
“Sure.” I mentally ran through the possibilities. Tomorrow was Friday. On Saturday Mother and Michelle would be gone from early to late. I alternated Saturday duty with another young vet, and this was my week to be off. Rosario didn’t work on the weekend. We’d have the house to ourselves.
Crazy. What was I thinking? I barely knew him. And he was my boss.
But I said, “How about Saturday? Come at noon. I’ll feed you.”
“Sounds great. Your mother won’t mind?”
“Not at all.” I’d let him think my family would be home, so he wouldn’t come expecting anything to happen between us. Nothing would. Not in Mother’s house, the first time Luke and I were alone. If anything happened, it would be much farther down the road, when I knew him better.
But oh, how I loved this feeling. The rush of excitement. The newness of it. The look in his eyes made the air crackle between us.
In my car on the way home that night, I pushed a Mary Chapin Carpenter tape into the player and sang I want to be your girlfriend along with her, jubilant, silly as a teenager, tapping time with my palm against the steering wheel.
***
Mother and Michelle were in the kitchen, putting the final touches on the dinner Rosario had left for us.
“Hey, Mish,” I said, swinging an arm around my sister’s shoulders. “How’d it go at the dentist?”
She looked startled by the hug. I released her quickly, feeling obscurely foolish.
“It was okay,” she said. “You’re in a good mood.”
“It’s nice to see,” Mother said. She smiled at me but her slender fingers went on mincing basil leaves in a saucer. The strong minty aroma filled the kitchen. “You went out of here this morning with a cloud over your head.”
“I had a good day.” I stood at the sink to wash my hands and hide my smile.
When I turned back, Mother was still watching me, her expression quizzical. She dropped her gaze and sprinkled bits of basil over a bowl of cold pasta salad. “Rachel,” she said, “would you bring in the iced tea?”
She carried the pasta through the doorway to the dining room.
Michelle poked at her jaw. “I’m still a little numb,” she muttered. “I hope I don’t bite myself.” She picked up a basket of rolls from the island counter.
As I was following her out of the kitchen the wall phone sounded its soft burbling ring. I answered. It was Kevin, returning Michelle’s earlier call, he said.
I handed the receiver to her.
Her voice was cool and she didn’t bother with a
greeting. “I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to go sailing with you Sunday.”
I’d started for the dining room, but this made me stop and turn around in the doorway.
Michelle said, “I’ve changed my mind, that’s all. I just don’t want to go.”
A pause, then an exasperated sigh. “No, Kevin, I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t want to go, that’s all. I’m sorry you don’t understand. We’re just sitting down to dinner. Good night.”
She dropped the receiver into its cradle with a clink.
I stood gaping at her. She brushed past me into the dining room, sat down and spooned pasta salad onto her plate.
“Mish,” I said. “What’s up? What was that all about?”
“You heard what I said to him.” Her clear blue eyes were wide, expressionless. “May I have some tea?”
I realized I was still holding the glass pitcher, and I put it into her reaching hands. I didn’t know what to make of the way she was acting. “For heaven’s sake. You were looking forward to going boating with Kevin. What happened? Why did you speak to him that way? It was downright mean, Mish.”
“Rachel,” Mother said, “why don’t you sit down?”
I dropped into my chair. “Mish?”
“It was a mistake to accept the invitation in the first place. I shouldn’t let him think I’m interested in a—a relationship.” She spat out the word as if it felt slimy on her tongue.
I could have sworn a relationship was exactly what she was interested in. I glanced at Mother, who was carefully slicing a tiny section from an asparagus stalk. Turning back to my sister, I chose my words more carefully and kept my voice even. “It’s just that you seemed so happy to see him.”
“I was happy to see him,” Michelle said. “But that doesn’t mean I want to have a romance with him. It’s unfair to let him believe I do.”
Dumbfounded, I sat back and watched her slice her asparagus exactly as Mother did hers. I glanced from one to the other. Mother didn’t seem at all surprised by any of this.
She caught my eye and smiled. “Have you made any plans for Saturday? While Michelle and I are at the conference.”
I hesitated. Hiding boyfriends from Mother’s analysis was an old habit for me, but I’d never before felt such an urgent need for secrecy.
The Heat of the Moon: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) Page 4
