“Well, we have something in common.” The boner between his legs was evidence of that.
She finished the orange juice. “Sometimes, what you want is not a wise or smart choice,” she said, her voice calm and thoughtful. “Sometimes, it’s best if you pass on dessert”—she grinned—“or in your case, rare steak.”
Marla, the epitome of self-control and practicality. He pushed away from the wall, grabbed the bathrobe, threw it on, and reached into the bakery box for another doughnut.
“Are we good?” she asked.
“Nope,” he answered. “The only time we’ve ever been good is in bed.”
On the bar, Marla’s smartphone lit up and started playing a jingle. She reached for the phone. “I need to make some calls. Check on some things at the clinic. I’ll meet you and the Crawfords later.”
He didn’t say anything as she disappeared. The front door clicked as she closed it, and he was left alone. The only trace of her was the faint, soft fragrance she wore. He drank some more coffee.
Sometimes, what you want is not a wise or smart choice.
For whatever reason, Marla had decided she didn’t want him. He wasn’t a smart choice. Maybe she thought only guys with MD after their names, like Saint Ben, were worthy of her. She might be brilliant in some ways, but she was all screwed up in the head.
He was a smart choice. He had multiple degrees. He ran a global company, and he made more money in a month than Saint Ben did in a year. Besides dick size, income was the other way men measured up. Carson would bet he had Ben beat in both departments.
He put the empty coffee mug on the counter and stepped outside on the lanai. The clear water in the blue pool glistened in the morning sunlight. If only love could be so pure. The ever-present trade winds sifted through his hair as he shed the bathrobe and dove into the pool.
Swimming in the cool water revived his spirit and his determination.
He had six days left in paradise. Six days of ocean breezes, endless horizons, and gorgeous sunsets. He had six days to come up with a new concept for the art center.
And six days to convince Marla that he was definitely a smart choice.
Chapter 10
“Mommy! I milked a real goat!” Sophie’s voice bubbled with Mexcitement.
Marla gripped her phone tightly as she heard her child’s voice. She fled into the sanctuary provided by the elevator and hovered in the corner, wishing she were home safe with her daughter.
“Mommy?”
“So, you milked a goat?” Marla pulled herself together and blocked Carson’s naked image out of her mind. At least, she knew her memory had been accurate.
Sophie babbled on about the goats, the chickens, and the cows at Aunt Lily’s farm. The one thing Sophie loved to do was talk. “I really like the horses best, Mommy. Can we get one?”
“Honey, we don’t have a place to keep a horse. But Mr. Browning has horses,” she said, thinking of one of her patients. “I’m sure he’d let us visit them.”
“Have you found me any seashells?”
“I haven’t been to the beach yet. But I promise I’ll find you a big one and when you put it to your ear, you can hear the ocean roar.”
“Does it roar loud? Like Papaw when he’s sleeping?”
“Not that loud.” Marla laughed.
“Are you having fun?”
Marla stepped off the elevator on the ground floor. “Baby, I’m mostly working.” Working at keeping my sanity and not making another huge mistake. It’s gonna take all the willpower I’ve got because your father is the definition of trouble.
“When are you coming home?”
“Very soon.” She walked across the main lobby of the hotel and went through a pair of French doors that led into a garden where tropical plants surrounded small ornamental trees, and an odd little red bird with dark wings sang from a tree limb. Rain started to sprinkle on ferns, coleus, and orchids as a cloud passed over. She ducked into a small gazebo. The gazebo was one of three that provided private places to sit and enjoy the exquisite garden even during the brief showers that came and went during the day on the island.
“I’ll be home in a few days,” she told Sophie as she settled in a comfortable lounge chair. Raindrops dripped from the roof of the gazebo. “I’m going to bring you plenty of surprises,” she said. “It’ll be like Christmas.”
“Can we put up a tree?”
“No. We have to wait on that.”
“Aunt Lily says it’s lunchtime. I gotta go.”
“Okay. You be a good girl. Mommy loves you, baby.”
“I love you, too,” Sophie said. “I call you back later, Mommy.”
Marla tucked her phone in her pocket and ignored her hormones that were demanding she return to the penthouse and finish what she had started.
“The only time we’ve ever been good is in bed.” Carson was right about that.
Other than sex, what did they have in common? She was definitely not trophy wife material. She was happy living in her basic three-bedroom, two-bath house on Elmwood Circle where she knew most of her neighbors. Her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Nelson, had been her third-grade teacher.
She loved Lafayette Falls. Nestled in the hills, it was beautiful year round and the perfect size city to have plenty of opportunities without massive traffic jams.
Besides the day her daughter was born, one of the most special days in her life had been her first day at the clinic in Lafayette Falls as a doctor. She had worked years for that privilege, and as hard as it had been, it was all worth it because it was her true calling. Someday, when her life was coming to a close, she wanted to rock in her porch swing, reminisce, and say to herself, “Job well done, Doc.”
She looked at the tropical garden before her. Carson’s work was amazing. He created the stuff of fantasies like this elegant resort in paradise, or an extravagant fine arts center. He was not a man of small dreams and quiet living.
She had to admit the two of them had nothing in common.
She’d not always felt that way. If she had to be honest, that day when he walked up to her at Royal Oaks and introduced himself, something connected inside her, and it wasn’t just sexual attraction. There had been a bond of companionship between them.
He was fun and down-to-earth, and she enjoyed being with him. Like her, he was hoping for success in his chosen field. Of course, she had known he was Miss Eva’s grandson, which meant he had an affluent family background. But he hadn’t seemed out of the realm of possibility, not until she was standing before the wall and iron gates that protected his mansion where you were either kept out or locked in.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” she had asked the taxi driver, who assured her it was the location she’d given him. She told the taxi driver to wait as she got out of the vehicle, certain there had been a mistake, even though the address was one Mrs. Deaton, the caretaker at Royal Oaks, had given her.
A guard had met her at the closed gates where the scent of eucalyptus wafted through the bars. “Can I help you?”
She stood before the ominous gates, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a white cotton blouse. “Is this the Blackwell residence?” There was no house in view. Only a manicured row of tall Italian cypress trees lining the drive.
“If you’re here to put in a job application, Mrs. Dunn only takes applications on Mondays.”
“No,” she answered as her discomfort grew. “I had hoped to see Mr. Blackwell.”
I need to tell him he’s going to be a father.
The guard frowned, glancing at the taxi and sizing her up. “Mr. Blackwell didn’t say he was expecting anyone today.”
“He isn’t expecting me.” She wet her lips. “This is a surprise visit.”
The guard’s mouth turned down. “A man like Mr. Blackwell doesn’t have surprise visitors,” he said as if she should have known that. “I have a guest list approved by Mr. Blackwell.” The guard reached for a PDA that was clipped to his belt. “Is your name on the li
st?”
“No, my name won’t be on the list,” she said in a small voice as a harsh reality settled over her. She had not expected a mansion, much less a gate, a guard, and an official list. The insecurity she had felt when she had seen the results of her pregnancy test was nothing compared to now.
“No one is allowed through the gates without Mr. Blackwell’s permission,” the guard explained, looking somewhat suspicious of her. “He’s a very busy man, and I don’t know whether he’s in the city or not. I can try to reach his office if you want.”
“No, that’s not necessary. Thank you.” She had taken one last look at the tall gates before she slid into the taxi. They didn’t represent the man she’d met at Royal Oaks. They were dark and foreboding, leading to an unfamiliar place filled with uncertainty. “Take me back to the airport, please.”
In that instant, she had made an irrevocable decision. She had never considered it a mistake. She still didn’t.
A rainbow arched over the cliffs as the raincloud turned into mist. The shower had left glistening droplets clinging to the petals of a red hibiscus and a bamboo orchid, and the breeze carried the heavy scent of the red earth and rain.
She considered returning to the penthouse, but she figured it would be smarter on her part to hang out on the beach until it was time to meet Truman and Julia for brunch.
Better yet, it would be a great time to go have a look at the infirmary.
After getting lost a couple of times, she found the building, neatly squared away between the main hotel building and a conference center. Opening the door, she stepped into an empty waiting area with a bamboo laminate floor and a colorful Persian rug. The right-side wall was made of uneven stone, and water trickled down the wall into a trench where water lilies floated. Plump leather armchairs offered comfortable seating and wall racks held a variety of upscale magazines.
“Nice,” she murmured to herself. She doubted a two-year-old had ever thrown up on the Persian rug.
“Good morning. May I help you?” A young guy in his early twenties appeared at the curved reception counter. He wore blue scrubs and he had dark red hair, the sides cut shorter than the top.
“Hi,” Marla responded. “I’m Doctor Marla Grant. I was just out walking and I thought I’d stop by. See what the infirmary was like.”
He smiled. “Kevin Flanagan,” he introduced himself. “I’m a physician assistant and a first-year medical student.”
“That’s great. Good for you.”
“Hey, you want to take a look around? Right now, there are no patients. It’s early and some days are slow.” He opened the door that led into the treatment area and the moment she walked through that door, she felt at home.
Kevin explained that usually a nurse practitioner was on duty at the clinic, but she was on vacation the rest of the week. “I’m filling in for her.”
He motioned to his right. “This is the triage area.”
Like the rest of the clinic, crisp blue and white were the colors used for the flooring, walls, and cabinets. Soothing photographs of the ocean hung on the walls. “Love the pictures,” she said.
As she followed Kevin down the short hallway, she noticed the immaculate clinic that smelled faintly of citrus was state-of-the-art in all aspects. The nurses’ station looked like some of the ones she’d seen in magazine advertisements. There were two spacious patient exam rooms with hydraulic exam tables, computer stations, and digital blood pressure equipment. What surprised her most were the patient monitors on portable stands beside each exam table.
“You have cardiac monitors in the exam rooms?”
Kevin grinned. “I know. Crazy,” he said. “But when the guy on the exam table is worth five hundred million, well, he feels better when he sees a monitor.”
“Oh no.” Marla laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Wait until you see what else we have.” Kevin grinned as he led her past the counters of the nurses’ station to a door labeled Staff Only. He opened it to reveal a fully stocked pharmacy on the right with everything from antibiotics to IV fluids, and on the left was a small lab for doing basic procedures.
“Wow,” Marla said. “How many patients do you treat?”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “Maybe a half dozen a day. We never use most of this stuff.”
A half dozen? Marla couldn’t imagine that. She saw five times that many on a regular day. She followed Kevin past the pharmacy into the storage area where shelves were lined with medical supplies.
“We take care of simple stuff. Headaches, stomach viruses, sports injuries, and allergies,” Kevin said. “But don’t think we’re not prepared for the worst.” He pointed toward a large cart filled with equipment.
She gasped. “You have a crash cart.” She reached for the defibrillator pads and perused the other supplies on the cart. “Airways, cannulas, IV tubing.”
“Fully loaded with meds, too. Atropine, epi, lidocaine,” Kevin added. “Compliant with ACLS protocol in case we ever have a Code Blue. It’s probably a good thing since the hospital is about twenty-five miles from here.”
“It’s exactly what they have in a hospital.”
“We have the EMT portable version, too, for the golfer who keels over on the course.” He showed her the defibrillator in a zippered nylon bag packed with supplies. “Thankfully, we’ve never had to use it, and we do have the epi handy for patients who shouldn’t have eaten shellfish.”
“Good idea.” Marla followed him back to the nurses’ station where they shared a cup of coffee and talked about their chosen profession. Like most doctors, Marla’s gripe was all the paperwork required. “You spend more time doing paperwork than seeing the patient.”
The sound of the door chime echoed through the clinic. “Hello?” a deep voice called from the reception counter.
Marla put down her coffee cup and grinned at Kevin. “That’s Carson Blackwell. He needs an enema.”
She motioned for Kevin to stay put. Then she trotted over to the door that led into the clinic area from the lobby. She opened the door. “Come on back. The doctor’s in.”
Carson stood at the reception counter, wearing a black golf shirt and khaki shorts and looking ticked off as always. She found his frown so sexy.
“I’ve been all over the hotel looking for you,” he said. “I should have known to come here first.”
“That’s true.” She remained at the door, grinning. “Let me show you around.”
“You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look?” she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
“Like you’re up to something.”
“Who me?” She held open the door and resisted the urge to touch him. “Come on back and meet Kevin.”
“Kevin?”
She ushered Carson through the clinic door and into the nurses’ station. “Kevin is a PA and a medical student so that means he’s still got a while to go before he’s a bona fide doctor.”
Kevin shook hands with Carson as she continued, “I think there’s a lot I could teach Kevin.” She reached for the latex glove dispenser. “Certain procedures.”
She pulled the gloves on with a snap and faced Carson with her gloved hands in the air. “You know, rectal exams don’t have to be painful.”
“You’re not touching me,” he shot back and Kevin smothered a chuckle.
“Sweetheart, when was your last checkup?”
He pinned her with a challenging stare. “Tell you what, if you want to do an exam on me, fine. We’ll go back to the hotel and you can be as thorough as you like.”
She flushed and Kevin nodded, giving Carson thumbs up. It was a guy thing.
“Why go back to the hotel?” She wiggled her gloved fingers. “The exam rooms are empty. Kevin can watch.”
Carson’s blue eyes rounded just the way Sophie’s did when she was shocked.
“I’m kidding,” Marla said with a laugh. “You should see your face.”
“Marla, take those damn glove
s off and let’s go. Truman and Julia are waiting for us and I’m starving.”
“Are you two married?” Kevin asked as Marla peeled off the gloves.
I wish. The thought ran through her mind before she could stop it.
“She thinks I’m not a smart choice,” Carson spoke up. “I don’t know how she could possibly think that.”
Marla rolled her eyes. “Let’s go get something to eat. Truman and Julia are probably wondering where we are.”
Suddenly, the door chimed and a woman’s terrified voice filled the clinic. “Doctor?” she cried in a voice with a Spanish accent. “Hello? I need a doctor.”
Marla responded. She rushed from the nurses’ station to the reception area with Kevin and Carson following her.
A middle-aged Latina woman in a gray uniform top and pants stood in the lobby. She held a boy toddler dressed in blue shortalls. A little girl clung to the woman’s leg and whined.
“The children are very sick,” she told Marla. “I go to get them up and they are both very sick. Ella has red spots. Like the measles.”
Kevin blanched. “I’ve never seen measles.”
“I have,” Marla said. “Ma’am, bring the children back through that door.” She met the woman in the hallway. “I’m Doctor Grant and this is Kevin, a medical assistant. Are you family or a caregiver?”
“I help Mister Warren take care of them. I am not a relative. I am the nanny,” she said. She introduced herself as Mrs. Ramos. “We are from Phoenix, Arizona. We are staying in the hotel.”
“Okay,” Marla said. “We’re going to see both of the children. What are the children’s names and ages?”
“This is Noah. He’s fourteen months old,” she said. “And Ella is four. They both have fever.”
Marla nodded and stooped to look at Ella, whose neck and cheeks were covered with a fiery red rash that was not measles. “Hi, Ella. I’m Doctor Grant and I’m going to see if I can find some magic stuff that will make you feel all better. Okay?”
Ella nodded and Marla straightened. “Let me have Noah.” She took Noah from Mrs. Ramos. He made no protest. “Where are their parents?”
“Mr. Warren left early to go out on a boat. I try to call him, but he doesn’t answer. Their mother is dead. She passed away last year.”
One Week in Your Arms Page 9
