The Doctor's Runaway Fiancée

by Cindy Kirk

  “Exactly.” She nodded, pleased he was finally getting the gist of what she was saying. “While I admit that you and I have amazing chemistry when it comes to sex, I think some of our decisions to get so close so fast was based on that chemistry. It wasn’t as if you really knew me.”

  But really, whose fault was that? She was the one who’d held back, who hadn’t let him get to know her fully.

  Andrew’s eyebrows pulled together in a puzzled frown. He rubbed his chin and his expression changed from puzzled to thoughtful.

  “I couldn’t imagine the woman I loved leaving me like that...and then sending me a text.” His laugh didn’t contain even an ounce of humor. “I didn’t even rate a Dear John letter.”

  The knowledge that she’d hurt him stung. Bringing Andrew pain had never been her intention. She loved him. She wanted only the best for him.

  Unfortunately, it had become apparent—to everyone but him—that she wasn’t what was best for him.

  “I’m glad I came to Jackson Hole and we had this talk.”

  Sylvie nodded.

  “I’m also glad that we had sex.”

  She cocked her head.

  “It reminded me just how powerful the chemistry is between us.” His lips lifted in a slight smile for only a second. Then he was all serious again. “Undoubtedly the stellar sex made us think there was more between us than actually existed.”

  Sylvie stopped a frown desperately trying to form and reminded herself this realization was what she had wanted. She wanted him to see their engagement had been a mistake. Then why did she have to fight the sudden urge to argue with him, to insist that it had been about more than sex?

  “S-sounds logical,” she stammered.

  “This should be simple.” He muttered a curse, pushed to his feet and began to pace.

  Sylvie uncurled the leg she’d tucked beneath her and rose so she was standing. Though he was still a good five inches taller than her, being upright made her feel as if they were on equal footing. “It appears we’re ready to close the door.”

  Pasting a polite smile on her face, she waited for him to agree. Then she’d give him the ring, he’d say his goodbyes and leave.

  Instead he stared, his gaze searching her face.

  “It might feel that way to you.” Andrew spoke slowly and deliberately, a frown still furrowing his brow. “The problem is, I find myself still wanting you.”

  Her heart, she was ashamed to admit, gave an excited little leap before she slapped it down. Not knowing how to respond, Sylvie remained silent.

  “I believe more drastic measures are needed.” He took a step closer, lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth.

  Her heart skipped several beats then began to thud. “What k-kind of measures do you have in mind?”

  “Immersion therapy.”

  Sylvie gave a strangled laugh. “Isn’t that when you go to a foreign country and don’t know the language?”

  “In this case, I will immerse myself in your life.” His unsmiling gaze met hers. “I obviously didn’t know you before, Sylvie. What better way to get you out of my system than to become acquainted with the real you?”

  Chapter Five

  Allow Andrew to immerse himself in her life? The thought terrified Sylvie. The months since she’d left Boston had been difficult ones. There had been days when she’d been sorely tempted to pull the covers over her head and simply remain in bed.

  Though walking away from him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, Sylvie believed her decision to leave had been the right one. A life with the wrong person never ended well. She only had to look to her parents’ marriage to validate that point. According to her mother, her relationship with Sylvie’s dad had turned rocky shortly after they’d married. She’d never been able to make her husband happy, because they were just too different.

  Given time, Sylvie believed it would have been like that with her and Andrew. Despite the explosive chemistry between them, he’d have come to his senses one day and realized they were simply too different. Unfortunately, by that time his relationship with his own parents might have been damaged beyond repair.

  We might have been happy.

  It was her heart whispering the words, not her head. Her head recalled the conversation she’d overheard between him and his father. Recalled the harsh words spoken between father and son.

  From the shadows Sylvie had found herself silently siding with his father. Agreeing with him that she and Andrew were an unlikely pair. Nodding silently at his pronouncements that it would be a miracle if their marriage lasted more than a year or two. Like Franklin O’Shea, Sylvie believed that if she hadn’t shown up Andrew would have fallen in love with someone of his own...well, kind.

  When Andrew had insisted his father accept Sylvie or else, Sylvie realized she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—come between Andrew and his father.

  Sylvie sensed Andrew’s gaze on her face, still waiting for her reaction.

  He was good at waiting.

  She’d discovered that early on when he’d come into the bakery for eight days straight.

  He’d been patient then. She sensed he’d be patient now.

  “Okay.” She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “A couple of days—”

  “As long as it takes.”

  As she caught the determined glint in his eyes, she felt the need to clarify. “Not forever.”

  He gave a soft chuckle. “I have to be back in Boston by October 1. No, not forever. I blocked out three weeks. I doubt it will take that long.”

  Three weeks with Andrew. She considered. “What would I need to do?”

  “Be yourself.”

  That sounded simple enough. Three weeks. Twenty-one days of her life. Given their history, it seemed little enough to ask.

  The fact that they’d hopped into bed almost immediately made her wonder if he was expecting sex to be part of the deal. “I think it is best we keep any physical intimacy to a minimum.”

  His gaze never wavered, though for a second she swore his lips twitched. “If that’s the way you want it to be.”

  “I think it’d be best, don’t you?”

  The second the question left her lips, Sylvie wished she could smother it under a stack of pillows. Why was she asking for buy-in? This was her decision.

  “If you’re asking if I think it’d be a good idea for us to spend the next three weeks in bed.” He paused and tapped a finger against his lips. “However much fun that might be, I’d say no. But I am open to considering anything up to that point.”

  Sylvie’s voice deserted her. Her quickening pulse was completely illogical. The level of sexual interaction wasn’t a big issue, she told herself, because sex was a nonissue. It took two to tango and she wasn’t doing any more dancing with Andrew.

  “I’ll have work to do while you’re here.” She stepped into the kitchen. Normally she found comfort in the spotlessly clean room that already held so many pleasant memories.

  But right now, Sylvie felt as if she’d just chased a Red Bull with a Java Monster.

  Andrew had followed her into the room and she crossed the room to put some space between them.

  Resting his back against the counter, he surveyed her with hooded eyes. “I’ll help you pack.”

  Her eyebrows slammed together. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m staying at a friend’s home in Spring Gulch. He only uses it during ski season. You’ll stay with me.”

  Not asked, she noted. Told. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Not necessary and unworkable.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Not necessary because we can spend time together during the day.” Sylvie blew out a breath. “Unworkable, because, well, just because it is.”

 
He smiled. “If you recall, we didn’t live together in Boston.”

  There were good reasons for that. Sylvie had been living with a friend in an efficiency unit not far from the bakery. He’d been staying at his parents’ home until renovations were completed on his high-priced condo in Millennium Towers.

  Though Andrew had invited her to stay with him at his parents’ home—and his suite of rooms was certainly large enough for two—she hadn’t been able to bring herself to agree.

  “Perhaps if we had spent more time together, we wouldn’t find ourselves in this position now,” he mused.

  “Hard to know for certain,” Sylvie said equitably. “But I can’t live in Spring Gulch. It’s too far out.”

  “You can tell me why you feel that way outside.” Without waiting for agreement, he opened the exterior door and held it open. “It’s too nice a day to spend cooped up in here.”

  “You’re not getting your way on this point,” she muttered, brushing past him.

  The sidewalks around her shop teemed with tourists. Women in capris and men in cargo shorts wandered in and out of the shops.

  Andrew began to walk. “Let’s check out the Town Square.”

  “It’ll be even busier there,” she warned, even as she fell into step beside him.

  Up ahead four antler arches stood at the corners of the George Washington Memorial Park, commonly referred to as the Town Square.

  Sylvie heard herself babbling about the arches, instead of articulating all the reasons she couldn’t move in with him. “The Antler Arches are a huge tourist draw. Did you know each arch is made up of two thousand antlers? Many of the elk antlers were harvested by the Boy Scouts after winter sheds.”

  If he found it odd she was such a wealth of information about a community she’d only recently begun to call her own, it didn’t show. As they covered the last block, she added a little more history about the arches gleaned from a trip to the Jackson Hole Historical Society one rainy afternoon.

  Sylvie had been surprised by how quickly this place—so far from where she’d grown up—had begun to feel like home. Perhaps it was because the people here seemed to appreciate individuals who forged their own path. Or maybe it was because Jackson Hole residents embraced the arts. Sylvie had been amazed by the number of painters, sculptors and writers who made their home here.

  Jackson Hole was also an athletic community where residents skied, biked and jogged as much as the weather would allow. Even Sylvie, who’d never considered herself particularly athletic, had recently begun hiking the trails and doing a little cycling.

  Yes, Jackson Hole was her home now, in ways Boston had never been, never could be.

  Sylvie cast a questioning glance in Andrew’s direction. “Want me to take a picture of you under the arch? You could send it to your family.”

  He didn’t even crack a smile at her teasing tone. “Tell me what you have against Spring Gulch.”

  She expelled a heavy breath.

  “I don’t have anything against the area.” The subdivision outside the town of Jackson was one of the nicest in the Hole. “It’s lovely. I’m sure your friend’s home is lovely.”

  She still found it hard to swallow that someone would purchase a home in such a pricey area and not live in it year-round.

  A muscle in Andrew’s jaw jumped. “You agreed to spend time with me.”

  “I start baking at three a.m.,” she told him. “I don’t want to drive all that way in the middle of the night. Right now all I have to do is roll out of bed, open the door and I’m there.”

  As they strolled through the crowds, Sylvie could almost see his mind considering, weighing her words, considering his response.

  It was just too bad he hadn’t used the same restraint before jumping into a relationship with her.

  “I see your point.”

  Relief surged. “This immersion thing doesn’t have to include being in the same house while sleeping. In fact, my not being there at night might be for the best.”

  “I agree that having you drive into Jackson alone in the middle of the night isn’t smart.”

  In the process of rejoicing over the small victory, Sylvie nearly missed his next comment.

  “I’ll drive you.”

  Startled for a moment, Sylvie could only stare. “That’s too much to ask.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  They strolled back down Broadway in the direction of her shop.

  “That was the issue back in Boston.” His voice was firm, resolute. “We didn’t spend enough quality time together.”

  Sylvie thought back to their whirlwind courtship and had to admit he was right. “We spent most of our time in bed.”

  He grinned suddenly. “Good times.”

  Unsmiling, she shook her head. “That intimacy gave us a skewed sense of closeness, of connection.”

  “I need to move on, Sylvie.” Those gray eyes were dead serious now. He extended his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  She’d made many mistakes in her life, but Andrew had been her biggest. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. If spending time with her these next three weeks would help him, she’d do it.

  She shook his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Tomorrow, we’ll begin the immersion. Tonight, I have a party to attend.”

  Chapter Six

  Sylvie smiled when Josie skidded to a stop and gave the painting of a wild-eyed buffalo hanging on the wall of the Museum of Wildlife Art a second look.

  She had to admit there was something creepy—yet compelling—about the bison’s intense stare.

  Josie’s gaze shifted back to Sylvie. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You were once engaged to the delectable Dr. Andrew O’Shea.”

  Keeping the animal in her peripheral vision, Sylvie nodded.

  “You broke up with him. I don’t understand that, but, hey, that’s your business. Then you moved here. He’s making you spend the next three weeks with him so he can...” Josie’s voice trailed off. “This is where you lost me.”

  “Andrew is convinced that the more he’s around me, the more he’ll discover he doesn’t like me.” Sylvie tried not to show how much the thought hurt. “I think he’s secretly hoping he’ll grow to hate me.”

  “Ah, the picture is coming into better focus.” Josie spoke in a melodramatic tone worthy of a world-class fortune-teller. All she needed to complete the picture was a crystal ball between her fingers. “The man still has the hots for you.”

  “No, he...” Sylvie paused, then reluctantly admitted, “We always had chemistry.”

  “Do you still?”

  “Uh, we can talk about that later.”

  “I want to talk about it now.”

  “Later.” Sylvie ignored the pleading look in her friend’s eyes. She didn’t want to get into all that. Not now. Not here. “We’re running low on the baked meringues.”

  Josie’s hands, which had been clasped together, dropped to her sides. She expelled a resigned sigh and glanced at the table. “I thought you’d brought more than enough for the number they were expecting.”

  The linen-clad table held several varieties of petits fours. While these types of desserts didn’t particularly refill Sylvie’s creative well, they helped pay the bills.

  Tonight, the Sweet Adelines organization was hosting an open house for prospective members. They’d rented out the museum to add a little pizzazz to their annual recruitment event.

  A baby grand piano had been brought into the main room, and several members stood harmonizing around the glossy black surface. One of them was Kathy Randall, Mayor Tripp Randall’s mother.

  Kathy was the one who’d contacted Sylvie about catering the event. Sylvie hadn’t expected Josie to volunteer to help her. Especially not with the wedding less than a month away. Bu
t Josie had insisted and Sylvie had to admit having her friend with her tonight had made the evening more enjoyable.

  Josie’s hand swept the room. “These women are like a swarm of locusts.”

  “Shhh.” Sylvie elbowed her friend, but had to agree. The pastries were being consumed at an alarming rate. “I’m hoping once the singing really gets going, they’ll forget chowing down and concentrate on music.”

  Josie shot her a pitying glance as they headed into the kitchen, where extra desserts waited. “Now, what I want to know is, since you’ve agreed to move into the house Andrew is renting in Spring Gulch, does that mean you’re going to sleep with him?”

  “Josie.”

  “I believe it’s a valid question.”

  Sylvie knew she couldn’t put Josie off for long, but she bought herself a little more time by filling a silver tray with several dozen baked meringues in various colors. “He’s not renting the house. It belongs to a friend.”

  Josie followed her back into the main room. “If you think you can sidetrack me that easily, you must have had more than club soda tonight. The question on the table is, are you going to sleep with him?”

  Sylvie carefully arranged the tiny bits of meringue. “Not in the plans.”

  “It never is.” Josie’s eyes took on a distant look and a little smile lifted her lips. “The last person in this whole town I planned to sleep with was Noah Anson. You see where that ended up. I can’t keep my hands off him.”

  “And I can’t keep mine off you.”

  The deep voice had both of them turning.

  Josie giggled like a teenager surprised by her boyfriend.

  Sylvie’s heart dipped to her toes when she saw the man beside Noah.

  For a second a nervous giggle rose in her own throat.

  “What are you doing here?” Pleasure spilled from Josie’s voice. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

  Noah, looking handsome in dark pants and a muted plaid shirt, looped an arm around Josie’s shoulders and tugged her to him. It was as if he couldn’t bear to be so near and not touch. It had been like that for her and Andrew once, Sylvie thought wistfully.