One Week in Your Arms

by Patricia Preston

  She quietly weighed what he said. This was not going the way things normally went for him. When he introduced himself to most women at a social event, they usually became very excited. They’d stroke his arm, lean his way, and giggle a lot. This one remained hesitant, and she didn’t giggle.

  “I don’t recall ever seeing you in Lafayette Falls,” she said.

  “I’m not from here. Grew up in Dallas and now I live in California,” he explained, realizing she wasn’t familiar with his name or his net worth, for that matter. He decided this situation had its merit. For once, he could be just an average guy with no advantages. Would she like that guy? It would be fun to find out.

  “I’m here visiting Nana. I know I should stop by more often, but my business takes up a lot of my time. I’m trying to convince her to come live with me, but she’s refusing.”

  “Most elderly patients prefer to stay in their homes and remain independent as long as possible.”

  “You sound like a doctor.”

  “I am a doctor. Almost.” She extended her hand. “Marla Grant.”

  He took the hand she offered. “Almost?”

  “I have to finish a residency program first before starting a practice.”

  He didn’t release her hand. Instead, he slid his fingers between hers. He smiled when she didn’t pull her hand free. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “I’ll walk with you over to the hot dog stand. I’m starving.”

  He laughed. He liked her. “You’ve got a deal.”

  In the shade, they sat at a folding table and ate hot dogs off disposable trays. The hot dogs were good, the company was great, and the joy he felt was real.

  Several of the locals stopped to greet his companion and congratulate her on completing medical school. When he found out she had graduated magna cum laude, he told her she was the smartest girl he’d ever taken to dinner. She grinned as she squirted mustard on her second hot dog.

  Later, they wandered the grounds of Royal Oaks, and he told her he was an architect. He mentioned a resort hotel he was designing. “Would you like to see it? I have the plans on my laptop.”

  He ushered her into the carriage house, which had been converted into a guest dwelling at Royal Oaks, and she studied his sketches of the sprawling building featuring Ionic columns, arched windows, and porticos. “You’re very talented.”

  That compliment pleased him inordinately.

  “What made you decide to use a neoclassical style?”

  Her question surprised him. “You’re familiar with the neoclassical period?”

  “I studied art history in college. It was a nice break from all the science and math classes.” She studied his sketches thoughtfully. “It looks more like a palace than a hotel.”

  “I suppose so,” he remarked, but his mind wasn’t on the resort he planned to build.

  They were alone in the small carriage house, far from prying eyes. The only sound was the whir of the air conditioner and the ticking of an antique clock. The bedroom was less than twenty feet away.

  He took the liberty of smoothing her hair off her bare shoulder, treasuring the softness of her skin against his fingers. She inhaled softly and he couldn’t recall ever wanting any woman as much as he wanted her.

  She glanced up and met his gaze. A mischievous twinkle danced in her green eyes. Marla and her mischievous twinkle. He fell for both that day.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he answered. “Will I succeed?”

  She tilted her head to the right, and her hair spilled over her shoulder as she smiled. “You had me at hello.”

  He had spent the next few weeks in heaven and the following years in hell.

  Tormented because he couldn’t forget her.

  Devastated because she married another man.

  All along, she’d had another man waiting in the wings. A man she’d never mentioned, but she had married the asshole three months later. Dr. Ben Archer.

  Carson finished off his scotch. He hated to admit how elated he was over her failed marriage. Why should that matter? Why should she matter?

  What he needed to do was to end the pointless infatuation that plagued him.

  He was sick of being screwed by old memories of a woman who probably hadn’t given him a second thought since the day they had parted company. She had been too busy planning her wedding.

  For years, he’d had unresolved issues of betrayal, frustration, and disappointment. He wasn’t sure what was worse. The hellish ordeal he went through with Angela or this silly mess with Marla? Either way, he wanted to free himself of the baggage he was hauling around like a fool.

  So his hopes were pinned on change.

  People changed. Six years was a long time. She would not be the same wide-eyed young beauty who knew all there was to know about male anatomy. Well, she’d still know the anatomy stuff, but she wouldn’t be the girl he’d met at Royal Oaks. He was certain of that.

  He flipped open the carryout container on his desk and reached for the club sandwich.

  Marla Grant was a fantasy that would end in a couple of hours.

  * * *

  On Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, Marla stood on the sidewalk where a palm tree offered little shade. The rumble of steady traffic provided background noise as she looked at the Blackwell Tower. The tall silver-gray structure with mirrored-glass windows gleamed ever so threateningly in the California sunshine. She clutched the briefcase as if it was a lifeline.

  She should have brought some Valium with her.

  A rail-thin woman walking some sort of pedigreed dog passed her, and two men in elegant business suits came out of the Blackwell building, both occupied with their phones and making deals. Everything was sleek and elegant. People, cars, and buildings.

  She’d never been elegant. Neat, yes. She liked for things to be neat. But a girl who had dissected a dead frog when she was eight had no hope of ever being elegant.

  Marla took a moment to pull herself together. A little mental lecture followed.

  Encouragement came first. Think of all the folks back in Lafayette Falls who are counting on you. The gals in the office and the patients. You can’t let them down.

  In strutted Ego. Hey, you look fabulous. The Girls in Blue fitness program has shaved off the pounds, girl. There’s not a movie star in this town that has better abs or a tighter ass than you do. Of course, you could use a boob job, but we won’t go there right now. The suit is very nice, too. Very chic.

  Marla smoothed the skirt of her new black linen suit. She had bought it at one of the most expensive dress shops in Nashville. She had looked at several suits. Some of them with Madame President stamped all over them. She decided to buy one she might actually wear again, so she picked a suit with a tuxedo-style jacket and a pencil skirt. She’d added a classic black shell, along with black stockings and heels.

  Kayla, who had gone shopping with her, had said, “Geez, you look like you’re going to a mafia funeral.”

  That’s exactly how she felt.

  A pit of dread formed in her stomach as she entered the building.

  Girl, you’re awesome. Ego was at it again. Hold that chin up and smile. A doorman is speaking to you.

  “Miss?” A man in uniform greeted her. “Miss, are you lost?”

  Yeah, she’d been lost since the moment she’d met Carson. She shook off the thought. “I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Blackwell.”

  She fumbled with her briefcase. Inside was her presentation, with facts about the services offered at the clinic and financial information. Right now, she wasn’t sure she would make it through the presentation. She definitely should have brought a tranquilizer with her. Maybe a portable IV would’ve been good.

  “This way, miss.”

  She followed him across a gorgeous lobby where a Mediterranean fountain, amid a tropical garden, provided the soothing sound of flowing water. Just in case you were having a nervous breakdown. Sunlight poure
d down on the lobby from slanted glass panels in the ceiling, offering warmth and light. Two things necessary for human contentment.

  Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she kept pace with the doorman. He stopped in front of the elevator doors bordered by Art Deco panels, done in gold, of course. It appeared no expense had been spared. She was certain that was true of the entire building as well as everything else in Carson’s life.

  “Very fancy,” she remarked. Did that sound redneck or what? She looked at her shoes. The doorman smiled as the elevator opened. He held the doors as she boarded the elevator. He reached inside and tapped the control panel.

  “That will take you to the top floor of the building where Mr. Blackwell’s office is located.”

  “Thank you,” she called as the doors slid shut like a coffin closing.

  She inhaled and exhaled as the elevator ascended.

  The top floor.

  She should have known.

  Chapter 3

  “I’m calling to let you know I just put the young lady on the elevator, sir,” the doorman said when Carson answered his phone. The man had done exactly as he’d been instructed.

  “Thanks, Jim.” Carson reached for the computer mouse and with a couple of clicks, he had a view of the live-feed from the security camera mounted in the reception area of his office suite.

  Gracie sat at a well-organized desk behind a curved marble-top counter. Across from the reception area was the executive lobby with stylish curved seating, plenty of ferns and other plants, recessed lighting, a spotless marble floor, and a great view of Beverly Hills.

  Welcome to my world, Dr. Grant.

  He leaned back in his chair, his heart rocking in his chest as he waited for Marla to make her entrance. The woman on her way to his office might not be anything like the girl he fell for at Royal Oaks. Maybe the girl at Royal Oaks really didn’t exist except in his dreams, either way, he was ready for those dreams to end.

  He leaned forward in the chair when Marla came into view.

  She stopped at the counter in front of Gracie’s desk. Yes, she looked different. The fun-loving blonde he’d met at Royal Oaks now appeared very austere and professional in her black suit. A full-fledged physician now. She looked much slimmer than he recalled. She wasn’t skinny like some of the anorexic models he knew, but she was not as curvy as she had been when they met. She wore her hair pinned up in a French twist. So much for long flirty waves.

  What made her any different from any of the other businesswomen who were in the building? Nothing. He wanted to get up and drink a toast to himself. This had been a brilliant thing to do. Confront the past and be done with it.

  Pure genius on my part.

  He watched as she turned from the reception counter. She glanced up and looked straight at the camera. His gaze riveted on her face. Her eyes were still a deep green with a hint of blue around the pupils and fringed with dark lashes. He recalled times when her gaze had been completely innocent and other times when it had been rather mischievous and immoral enough to destroy his self-control.

  She had a button nose and plump lips, which hadn’t been injected. Her features created a lively, passionate face. One that could possess great humor and produce the most wicked, tempting smiles he’d ever seen. She was not a glamorous beauty like the vapid women who usually kept him company. But the truth was he’d never met a woman who was more captivating than she was.

  He jerked his tie loose and unfastened the top button of his shirt.

  What the hell had he been thinking when he sent her that letter?

  Gracie pecked on his office door. “Mr. Blackwell,” she said. “Doctor Grant is here.”

  “Thank you, Gracie,” he called. “Give me five minutes.” It wouldn’t hurt the good doctor to wait while he figured out how he was going to handle things.

  On the monitor, he saw Gracie speak to her. She smiled and settled back in one of the plump chairs. She crossed her long legs. A high heel dangled from her foot.

  His smartphone vibrated against his waist.

  He checked it. The caller was Texas billionaire, Truman Crawford, who had been his father’s best friend. Truman had become Carson’s substitute father after Gerald Blackwell died.

  “Hey, Truman.” Carson tried to sound civil as he watched Marla rock her foot back and forth. She even had sexy ankles. “What’s going on?”

  Truman explained he was at Kingsford, the luxury hotel and resort Carson had built on the island of Kauai. “I have a complaint. No one here can play golf worth a damn.”

  “You mean they won’t let you cheat?”

  “I need someone who’ll humor an old man. That someone is you. Can you be here tomorrow?”

  “Right now, I have a few things going on.” He stared at Marla’s leg.

  “Are those things more important that your pet project?”

  Carson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course not.”

  “Good. Then get your ass down here. We’ll play some golf and talk about your proposal for the art center.”

  “I can be there in a day or so.” That should give him enough time to have the Marla issue settled. “What’s so urgent?”

  He had sent the proposal to Truman three weeks ago. It wasn’t like something that needed to be done overnight.

  “I told you I’m bored and I would love to have you down here. We don’t get to see each other often enough,” Truman said. “And we need to get together more so I can impart my great wisdom to you.”

  “How about imparting the truth, Yoda?”

  Truman groaned. “Julia is nagging me,” he admitted, referring to his wife of forty-five years. “The Northrups are here, and she wants to introduce you to Constance’s daughter, Amanda. She is insistent that you and Amanda would make a perfect couple.”

  Terror struck Carson. Truman’s wife, Julia, seemed hell-bent on finding him a wife, and the last thing on Earth he wanted to endure was another horrendous matchmaking ordeal.

  “Tell Julia I appreciate it, but I don’t have time right now.”

  “Son, you know we only want the best for you. And Julia will be disappointed. She’s so excited about this girl. She wanted me to call you last night. It appears the Northrups will only be here two more days,” Truman said. “We can play golf and talk about the art center. You can meet the girl. And you’ll be making an old man’s life easier, too. You owe me that much.”

  Carson yanked at his tie so that it fell open down the front of his white shirt. He glanced at Marla. Suddenly, he had a brilliant idea.

  He was having a lot of those lately.

  “I’ve met someone.” The words rolled out easy as if he was telling the truth. “Someone special,” he added for good measure. That wasn’t an outright lie.

  “You have?” Truman sounded stunned.

  Of course, it would be stunning since he hadn’t had a serious relationship in years.

  “Yeah.” Carson grinned, watching Marla on the monitor. “She might turn out to be the one. I’m serious this time.” When you’re on a roll, go for it.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” said Truman. “Julia will want to know all about her.”

  “You can tell Julia she’s from Lafayette Falls, my grandmother’s hometown. My grandmother knew her. She’s a doctor,” he added for good measure. Smart girls always made a good impression.

  “What a relief! I was worried you were going to end up with some brainless bimbo.”

  “Truman.”

  “Bring her with you tomorrow.”

  “Bring her with me?”

  “Yes, bring her to Kingsford with you. You and I can discuss business while the girls do whatever it is they do when men play golf. Julia will be thrilled and I’m sure your new girl would love a week in paradise.”

  Carson cleared his throat. “Listen, that’s not possible.”

  “If you don’t come down here, Julia is gonna worry the shit out of me. She’ll insist that we come there and meet this girl. Would you rath
er have us come there?”

  Carson frowned. That’s the last thing I need right now. He watched Marla glance around the lobby. Looking impatient and unhappy like someone waiting to see a dentist and dreading the idea of it. Her gaze flickered past Gracie’s desk to the glass doors and the elevator beyond the entrance of his office suite.

  She wanted to leave. She hadn’t even seen him and she wanted to leave.

  Truman spoke again. “Carson? Are you there?”

  “I’m thinking.” He was back in the past and thinking about his return to Royal Oaks a mere three months after he’d said goodbye to Marla.

  His grandmother was dying and he’d come home for her, but the moment he arrived at Royal Oaks, he was surrounded by memories that he couldn’t run from any longer. He had realized how deeply he had missed Marla. How he might even be in love and how he might be willing to risk being in love if that meant a future with her.

  He’d been thumbing through the Sunday paper at the breakfast table when he came across Marla’s wedding picture. Two weeks earlier, she had married Doctor Ben Archer in a small candlelit ceremony, attended by friends and family.

  Although the situation was entirely different from what he had faced with Angela, the effect was the same. He had felt like he’d been fed to the wolves again.

  Despite that, he was still unsettled by Marla.

  He watched her, mesmerized by the sight of her. Did she look happy? Excited? No. She was ready to bolt for the elevator. Annoyed, he fiddled with a pen. What did you expect? That she was going to show up and profess her undying love?

  “I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Truman said. “Damn, I can’t even keep track of you anymore. Running from one country to another. It’s time you found a good woman and settled down.”

  The woman in question was the reason he ran from country to country.

  “Julia just walked in,” Truman said. “I’m putting you on speaker.” Then he spoke to Julia. “Hon, you won’t believe this. Carson found himself a girl. All on his own. And, wait till you hear this, she’s a doctor. He’s hooked up with a smart one for a change.”

  “Oh, my goodness! That’s amazing!” Julia cried as if his finding a woman on his own was some sort of miracle. “I’m thrilled. Who is she? Do we know her?”