3, 2, 1...Married!

by Sharon Sala

  Making a left-hand turn at the light, K.C. made her way to Baldwin. The clinic was less than two miles away, but Saturday afternoon traffic was going to double the length of time it took to reach it.

  “My name’s Bailey Quaid,” he told her. “And you’ve already met Bobby.”

  Waiting for a break in traffic to make a right turn, K.C. glanced over her shoulder at the boy. “Hi, again, Bobby.” Her eyes shifted to Bailey before she turned around again. “Tell me, does he often try to fly?”

  “No, thank God. This was his maiden—and only—flight. I think he learned his lesson.” Bailey turned his eyes appreciatively toward K.C. “And I certainly learned mine.”

  Her interest was piqued. “And that is?”

  “Never take your eyes off your son for a minute.”

  K.C. turned the car into a square lot just adjacent to a busy bank. “Not until they at least turn twenty,” she said, grinning.

  Finding a spot just in front of the three-story building that housed the clinic, she parked her car and shut off the engine. Getting out, she opened the rear passenger door and began to unbuckle Bobby. The boy flashed her a broad grin as she picked him up and then set him on the ground.

  In fifteen years, that same grin was going to be outrageously flirtatious, she thought fondly.

  “Well, here it is.” She gestured toward the building. “The clinic’s located on the first floor, just to the right of the front doors.” He could see it if he looked in, she thought. The rest of the suites were taken up by laboratories and doctors’ offices. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Do you want me to wait and give you a ride home?”

  “No, we’ll just take a taxi home. But thank you for all you’ve done.” He took her hand, shaking it. Something warm and pleasant surprised her. Caught off guard, K.C. took a step back before letting go of his hand.

  “Don’t mention it,” she murmured.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around.” But as Bailey began to walk away from her, Bobby suddenly sent up a fresh howl, his hand outstretched toward K.C. Bailey took one more step before stopping. “I think he’s taken a definite shine to you.”

  “I have that effect on short people.” Knowing she should get going, she lingered a moment longer. “I was a pediatric nurse for a couple of years.”

  “And now?”

  “Private duty. The hours are better.” She’d taken the position to spend more time with Eric, but that had quickly fallen by the wayside. Still, she liked working for the agency and had decided to remain. Reaching up, Bobby grasped her sleeve and held on, tugging. She made no attempt to break the hold. “It looks like I’ll be going in with you.”

  Bailey took his son’s hand, trying to gently pry Bobby’s fingers away from K.C.’s sleeve. Bobby hung on like an astronaut tethered to the mother ship. “He’s not usually this forceful.”

  K.C. smiled. “I guess a few more minutes won’t hurt.” She led the way through the electronic doors, her sleeve still in Bobby’s hand. “I’ll watch Bobby for you. That’ll give you a chance to call your wife and tell her not to worry. My guess is that she’s probably out looking for you right now.”

  “No chance of that.” K.C. looked at him quizzically. He’d said it with such finality. “She’s away?”

  “You might say that.” Finally managing to separate her sleeve from his son’s hand, Bailey picked Bobby up into his arms. He took a step back. “Permanently,” he added. He raised his eyes to hers. “I’m divorced. Not even a card for Christmas.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Is that what one said to someone who said they were divorced? She didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she had a whole lot of experience in this field. She was far better with people when they were flat on their backs and slightly out of their heads. Friendly, warm and giving, personal socializing just wasn’t something K.C. was well versed in. The breakup with Eric was enough to tell her that. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I were prying.”

  “You weren’t. I was volunteering.”

  The chairs lining the walls of the small waiting area were all filled. Bailey shifted Bobby to his other arm just as the woman behind the sliding glass door asked for his name and why he was here. Bailey gave her the particulars and then retreated to find a space for himself.

  Still at the reception desk, K.C. quickly scanned the room. Bailey would be here all day. There were only adults waiting to see the doctors on call. She hoped no one would mind if she pulled a few strings to get Bobby in first.

  “Is Linda here today?” she asked the woman at the desk. “Linda Madison?”

  Mentioning the nurse’s name broke the ice a little. The receptionist’s face softened. “Yes. Do you want me to get her?”

  “Please.” She glanced toward Bailey. He was looking at her quizzically. “Tell her K. C. Haley is in the waiting room.” The woman disappeared.

  Bailey crossed back to stand beside her again. “What are you—?”

  K.C. waved for him to hold onto his question. The receptionist was returning. “Linda said to come in.”

  K.C. smiled her appreciation. It paid to be friendly with people. She and Linda had attended the same nursing school together and had run into one another when K.C. had brought Gracie in after a tricycle versus curb incident.

  “Thank you.” The next moment, the buzzer was sounding to admit them to the examining area. “I believe they’re playing your song,” she told Bailey.

  Bailey smiled. “You’re a good woman to know.”

  “That’s what they all say,” she laughed, holding the door open for them. “Until I have to irrigate their wounds.”

  Chapter 3

  “And then what happened?” Rachel asked eagerly.

  K.C. sighed. Rachel had pounced on her the moment she’d entered the house, demanding to know every single detail of what had gone on between the time she’d left the town house and now. In response, K.C. had given her a thumbnail summary, and to add to Rachel’s growing frustration, dwelling more on the doctor’s examination and Bobby’s revived spirits than on Bailey Quaid.

  On crutches now, Rachel hobbled quickly after her, giving K.C. no peace no matter where she went on the ground floor.

  “And then I dropped him off at his house,” K.C. concluded with finality, hoping that was the end of it. She might have known better.

  Rachel, K.C. discovered, could move very fast on crutches when she wanted to. “Did he invite you in?” she pressed.

  K.C. stopped straightening the mess that had been made in the short time she’d been absent. Gracie was like a human whirlwind.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. But I told him I had a pain-in-the-neck patient to get back to, so we said goodbye at the curb and I drove off. End of story, Rachel.”

  Rachel sighed in despair. “Well, at least you know where he lives.”

  Puzzled, K.C. stared at her sister. “And what do you propose I do, stalk him?”

  Rachel looked at K.C. with furrowed brows. “No, just maybe pass by there a few times, be visible—”

  “While whistling Lerner and Loewe’s ‘On The Street Where You Live?”’ K.C. suggested with a short laugh. Even if she had the time for that kind of nonsense, she wouldn’t do it. Handsome though Bailey Quaid was, she had absolutely no interest in getting into another relationship right now. Not until she was able to get the last one out of her system. Maybe not even then.

  Growing tired from the workout she was getting by following K.C. around, Rachel slowly lowered herself onto a straight-back chair. She kept her crutches beside her. She knew if she went off to the other room to get her wheelchair, K.C. would use the opportunity to go upstairs and out of her range. Brooding, she eyed K.C. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “There’s nothing to take seriously.”

  Well-shaped brows rose incredulously on a smooth forehead. “A golden opportunity to meet a gorgeous man—”

  “Did that,” K.C. announced. “I met him. I rode with him in a car and everything. Okay?”
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br />   Her sister’s pigheaded refusal to capitalize on this opportunity was beginning to irritate Rachel. This was a case of not only having to point out the watering hole to the horse, but having to force the horse to drink the water, as well.

  “No, it’s not okay. You’re not going to tell me that you didn’t find this Greek god attractive in a teeth-numbing way.”

  K.C. lifted a shoulder in casual disregard and then let it drop again. “I didn’t notice.”

  Exasperation vibrated in the breath Rachel exhaled dramatically. Gracie stopped coloring and stared at her. “Then, since you’re blind, you shouldn’t be a nurse.” She pressed her lips together, a wave of sympathy washing over her. Leaning forward, she caught K.C.’s hand. “I know Eric hurt you, but not everyone is Eric. You have to move on with your life, Kase.”

  K.C. extricated her hand from Rachel’s. She didn’t need this. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to start charging your husband hardship pay.” She heard the doorbell ringing and silently blessed providence. “Saved by the bell.”

  “I’m not finished, K.C.” Rachel warned.

  She was afraid of that, K.C. thought, opening the front door. Once she got started, Rachel had been known to go on for hours.

  There was a delivery man standing on the stoop, holding a colorful profusion of flowers arranged in a large basket.

  “Who was it?” Rachel asked, finally reaching the door just as K.C. closed it.

  “Someone sending you get-well flowers.”

  Turning, she showed the basket to Rachel, hoping the flowers would distract her. K.C. plucked the card out and tucked it into Rachel’s hand. Without another word, she went to place the basket on the section of coffee table that wasn’t freshly littered with Gracie’s toys.

  A smile spread over Rachel’s generous mouth as she read the outside of the envelope. “If they’re sending it to me, they got my name wrong. These are for you.”

  Stunned, K.C. looked at Rachel and then at the basket that was still in her hands. “Me? Who’d be sending flowers to me?”

  Rachel balanced precariously on the crutches as she opened the envelope. A wide, triumphant smile creased her mouth as she read the message. She raised her eyes to K.C.’s.

  “Apparently Mr. Gorgeous.” Holding the card between two fingers she offered it back to her sister. “It says this is his way of saying thank you.” Her grin turned smug. “Want to know what I think?”

  Taking the card from Rachel, K.C. shoved it into her breast pocket even though she had to admit she wanted to read it for herself. But to show the slightest bit of interest would only be giving her sister more ammunition and Rachel was already firing wildly as it was.

  “Not particularly.”

  Undeterred by the negative response, Rachel told her. “I think you should thank him for his thank you.” Her eyes sparkled as her imagination took off. “Do it right and you could be at it for a long time.”

  “I’m not even going to dignify that inference by asking what the hell you’re talking about.” Turning on her heel, K.C. went into the back room.

  “If I have to explain it, you’ve been without a man too long.”

  Struggling, she hobbled into the back room after K.C. “He does know you’re single, doesn’t he?”

  K.C. snapped her fingers as if the thought had never occurred to her. “I forgot to wear my I’m Single banner and for some reason, the subject never came up.”

  Rachel frowned. “You are hopeless, you know that?”

  K.C.’s smile was broad. “Good. Then give up.”

  Rachel had never been a quitter and apparently had decided now was no time to start. “Aren’t you going to call him back? He gave you his number.” Balancing herself again, she reached for the card that was sticking out of K.C.’s pocket. “See, right there in the left-hand corner.” She pointed awkwardly, calling K.C.’s attention to the pertinent line. “He said to call him if you ever—”

  “Needed anything,” K.C. read the end of the sentence. She drew the card out of her sister’s fingers, returning it to her pocket. “Well, I don’t.” And then she looked at Rachel. “Except maybe to find a way to get my sister to stop pestering me.”

  “Want me to stop pestering you…?”

  It didn’t take a mind reader to know what Rachel was thinking. K.C. decided that the only way she was going to get any peace from her was to put a whole floor between them. Moving past Rachel, K.C. went back into the family room and picked up the basket of flowers.

  “I’ll call him later, when I have time,” she told Rachel. “Right now I’ve got lunch to make for you and Gracie.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “And doing a fine job of it, too,” K.C. answered, leaving.

  She was stalling, K.C. thought as she gathered together the ingredients for a light meal for her sister and niece. There was no denying that she found Bailey Quaid attractive, almost to a fault. He was gorgeous, just as her sister said, but that didn’t mean she was about to get involved with him—or any man for that matter. It was just too soon to go that route again, to lay herself open for hurt and heartache. Once this year was more than enough.

  Still, she thought, sneaking a look at the card that was propped up against the flower basket, it would be rude not to call and at least thank him for the flowers. They were lovely and she didn’t want to be rude….

  Wiping her hands on her shorts, K.C. sneaked a look to see if perhaps in her quest to further this imaginary liaison, Rachel had decided to struggle up the stairs and was now lurking somewhere within earshot.

  But she wasn’t. Relieved that she wasn’t going to be overheard and possibly be coached on the sidelines, K.C. went to the kitchen wall phone and dialed the number on the card.

  He answered on the second ring, giving her just enough time to have her heart lodge in her throat.

  For a brief second, K.C. thought of hanging up again. But that was the coward’s way out and she hated admitting to being a coward. “Mr. Quaid? This is K. C. Haley. The florist just delivered your flowers. I wanted to say thank you. They’re really very lovely.”

  “That was fast. Glad you like them. And please, the name’s Bailey. Hope I didn’t offend your husband.”

  If he wasn’t as good-looking as he was, she would have said he was fishing to discover her status. But a man who looked like Bailey Quaid didn’t have to go fishing for women. If anything, he needed a security system to protect himself from them.

  “I’m not married.”

  “Then would you like to have dinner?” Before she could answer, he said, “Unless you’re involved…?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was, putting an end to this. But in her whole life, K.C. had never managed to lie without stuttering. This wasn’t the right time to see if she had outgrown this one holdover of her childhood affliction.

  “No, I’m not involved.”

  “Great.” There was a pause. “I mean, I’d really like to take you out to dinner so that I can thank you properly. Are you free tonight?”

  “I’m—”

  K.C. started to make an excuse, but since she’d managed to get herself into this, the sooner she put it behind her, the better. This way, it didn’t hang over her head, making her nervous—and it didn’t give Rachel time to harp on the event.

  “—free,” she concluded.

  “Wonderful.”

  She wasn’t sure if wonderful was quite the right word. She could hear Bailey’s smile over the phone and felt her stomach flutter unaccountably. Something else she had no intentions of sharing with Rachel. If she did, her sister would be sending out wedding invitations in the morning mail.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight,” he told her.

  K.C. hung up, the tingling sensations traveling up and down her spine telling her that she’d made a mistake.

  The clothes she’d brought with her to Rachel’s house were all casual, earmarked for comfort, not for going to a restaurant that served its meals on pl
ates instead of in paper containers. But when K.C. mentioned canceling rather than making the trek to her house to get something more appropriate to wear, Rachel had ridden to her rescue—or perversely destroyed her alibi, depending on the point of view taken. The sisters had been the same size since their midteens and everything Rachel owned could easily be worn by K.C. as well.

  Rachel was in her glory as she threw open her vast closets, picking through rows of dresses she declared suitable for the outing.

  Rachel’s tastes were far more glamorous than K.C.’s and each dress that Rachel held up for her, K.C. vetoed. Each one that appealed to K.C. earned her sister’s frown. They finally agreed on a sleek navy sheath with white trim at the neck and armholes.

  At a quarter to eight, the telephone rang.

  K.C., ready in body if not spirit for the last half hour, jumped at the sound.

  “That’s him. He’s calling to cancel,” she announced, feeling a wave of relief contrasted by just a drop of regret that she quickly shrugged off.

  “How did you get to be so pessimistic?” Rachel chided, shaking her head. “It’s probably just a credit card salesperson trying to get me to buy travel insurance.” Rachel held out her hand expectantly.

  But it was Bailey on the other end.

  “K.C., I’m running a little behind,” he apologized. “If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience, would you mind very much coming by here first?” In case she’d forgotten, he gave her his address again.

  Hesitating, she debated postponing. But the words never came out of her mouth. No sense in wasting a pretty dress, she told herself. “All right. I can be there in a few minutes.” She hung up, feeling Rachel’s eyes boring into her. “He wants me to stop by first.”

  “I figured that part out for myself.”

  K.C. blew out a breath, wondering if she was doing the right thing. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she murmured.

  Rachel was all smiles. “I don’t.”