Mission: M.D.

by Linda Turner

  Rachel always closed the bakery at three-thirty, but after she cleaned up and got things ready for the next morning, it was usually close to five before she got out of there. Today was no different. She’d been on her feet since she rolled out of bed at four in the morning, and she was tired. Later, she and her grandmother and some friends were going out, but for now, she just needed some time to herself to unwind. She couldn’t think of a better place to do that than the river. It was only three blocks away and wound through the edge of downtown. Grabbing a bag of breadcrumbs, she started walking.

  The ducks saw her first, but then again, they always did. They seemed to have a built-in radar for people who fed them regularly, and the second they saw her cross River Road and enter the narrow strip of land between the river and the road that the city had wisely made into a park, ducks and swans and geese came running.

  She’d named them all, of course—she fed them every day—and they all had distinct personalities. “Okay, guys, don’t get impatient. There’s plenty for everyone. Watch it, Waddles, there’s no need to get pushy. Mr. Higgins is going to let you eat. Good boy. No—that’s not yours, Izzy. You’ve already had more than everyone else. You don’t want to be a pig.”

  Izzy, apparently, disagreed. She pushed herself through the others, gobbling up crumbs so fast, Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Watch it, girl. Someone’s going to snatch you up for Thanksgiving Dinner if you don’t slow down. Duck’s not real popular in this neck of the woods, but the RV park is full of snowbirds. All it takes is for one of them to get a good look at you and that fat belly of yours, and you’re a goner.”

  Far from concerned, Izzy kept eating as if her life depended on it, pushing her feathered friends out of the way and grabbing every crumb she could for herself.

  Amused, Rachel laughed and threw more crumbs.

  Out for a run with Daisy, Turk spied Rachel the second he turned onto River Road. Daisy, far more interested in the ducks, gave a sharp bark of excitement and headed right toward them.

  “No, Daise,” Turk growled. “Behave yourself and leave the ducks alone. They don’t want to play.”

  He might as well have saved his breath. Picking up speed, ignoring his tugs on the leash, Daisy sprinted for Rachel and the ducks.

  “No! Daisy, heel!”

  A big smile plastered on her doggy face, she never even checked her pace. Swearing, Turk tried to tackle her, but everything was a game to her, and she’d picked up a full head of steam. Dragging him after her, she was twenty yards away and closing fast when Rachel looked up and saw them both bearing down on her.

  “Turk! What—”

  A split second later, Daisy ran through the gathering of ducks. Turk only had time to note that she made no effort to hurt them when she suddenly saw the bag of breadsticks in Rachel’s hand. With an excited bark, she launched herself at her.

  “Wait! No!”

  Alarmed, her hands extended out to block Daisy from jumping her, Rachel took a step back…and tripped over a rock. A split second later, she went down.

  Turk swore. “Dammit, Daisy, now look what you’ve done! Rachel? Are you okay? Did you hit your head? C’mon, honey, open your eyes and speak to me! Are you hurt?”

  Dazed, Rachel opened her eyes and found herself lying flat on her back, looking up at the dog…and Turk. Taking a quick inventory and discovering she wasn’t hurt, she wanted to sink right through the hard ground beneath her back. “I can’t believe you sicced your dog on me.”

  “I didn’t! I swear!”

  “So you can’t control your own dog? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “Then you did sic your dog on me.”

  “You hit your head, didn’t you?”

  Confused, she frowned. “What’s my head got to do with your dog? Why are you changing the subject? Is this a trick question?”

  Grinning, he gently helped her sit up. When he slid his fingers through her hair to feel her scalp, she jerked back, a blush heating her cheeks and her dark brows knit together in a scowl. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking to make sure you didn’t crack your head when Daisy knocked you down,” he said, gently inspecting her scalp. “Does this hurt?”

  Hurt? she thought, fighting the need to lean into his hand. He couldn’t be serious! With just the touch of his fingertips on her scalp, he was turning her boneless. And it wasn’t her head that was the problem, anyway. It was her heart. It was slamming against her ribs, and suddenly, she was breathless.

  And she knew exactly who to blame. Turk! She could handle the wicked smile and the dancing eyes, but it wasn’t fair that he had such a tender touch. She tried to remind herself he was a doctor—he had to be gentle—but it didn’t matter. He made her heart trip, and that horrified her. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t what she wanted!

  “I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, only to wince at the huskiness of her voice. Damn the man, did he know what he was doing to her? Suddenly furious with herself and him, she scrambled to her feet and took two quick steps back. “I just wasn’t expecting to get attacked by a dog in the park! Don’t you know there are leash laws? I’ve half a mind to report you!”

  His lips twitching, Turk held up Daisy’s leash. “She was on a leash.”

  “This isn’t funny! I could have been seriously hurt. And what about the ducks? Oh, my God! The ducks! Are they okay?”

  She whirled, horrified that Daisy had gone after the ducks while she was making a fool of herself over her owner, but she needn’t have worried. The ducks had all scattered when Daisy ran her down and they were now swimming happily in the middle of the river. And Daisy, thankfully, had lost interest in them. She’d found the bag of breadcrumbs she’d knocked out of Rachel’s hand and was busily gulping down every smidgen of bread she could find.

  Although relieved that the ducks were safe, Rachel became more irritated as she watched Daisy gobble their crumbs. “You’re just darn lucky the ducks aren’t hurt. They’re the town mascots. People are very protective of them. If Daisy had hurt one of them, you’d have been in a world of trouble.”

  “I’ll be more careful next time,” he promised, looking suitably contrite. “She was just excited when she saw you. I know how she feels.”

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t go there, Garrison. We’re not talking about me.”

  “No, ma’am. You’re absolutely right, ma’am. But I sure would like to. When do you think we could get together and talk about you over dinner? Just name the time and date and I’ll be at your front door with bells on. How about tonight? Or are you the type of woman who likes a couple of days’ notice? I’m the spontaneous type, in case you hadn’t noticed, but that’s one of the little things about you that I don’t know. Which is why we need to get together so you can tell me about yourself.”

  He was getting to her—he could see her fighting a smile—but he had to give her credit for not being a pushover. Her gaze never shying from his, she lifted a delicately arched brow and gave him a cool, superior smile that absolutely delighted him. “Nice try, Garrison. I’m not buying it.”

  Making no effort to hold back a grin, he quipped, “You have no idea how much I was hoping you’d say that. Did I mention that I love a challenge? Not to mention…a woman with sass. You know, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

  Ignoring that, she retorted, “Aren’t you supposed to be working? I thought your clinic opened today.”

  “It did—and it’s doing great, thank you for asking. But we closed at five, and Daisy needed a run. Are you sure you’re all right? No headache? I don’t think you should be alone. Daisy and I can keep you company. I’ll even cook dinner for you. Of course, we’ll have to do it at your house—I’m still tearing out Sheetrock and mine’s a mess. Or we could go out—”

  That was as far as he got. “There you go again. Don’t you ever take no for an answer?”

  He grinned. “No.”

  “I gue
ss we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” she said sweetly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I have to get ready for a date.”

  A slight smile of satisfaction curling her mouth, she turned and grabbed the now-empty bag of breadcrumbs. Not sparing him a single glance, she crossed the street and headed for home.

  Watching her until she disappeared from sight, Turk laughed out loud. Well, she’d certainly put him in his place—and thoroughly entertained him at one and the same time. Did she have a clue how much he enjoyed her? Probably not, he thought, chuckling. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him get close enough to show her. That was okay. He was a man who liked to take his time—he’d get his chance. After all, it wasn’t as if she could avoid him forever. He knew where she lived!

  Beside him, Daisy whined as she, too, watched Rachel disappear around the corner. “It’s okay, girl,” he assured her, patting her on the head. “She’s not nearly as indifferent as she appears. C’mon, let’s go home. I want to see this date of hers.”

  He hadn’t spied on a female since he was in junior high, and he should have been shocked that he’d sunk so low. But he wasn’t seriously pursing Rachel, Turk told himself as he began working on the Sheetrock in his living room. She’d thrown down a challenge, he’d picked it up, and he had a sneaking feeling she was enjoying the game as much as he was.

  Not that she would admit it, he thought with a grin. From what he could tell, Rachel Martin was a woman who played her cards close to her vest. What would it take to make the lady drop her guard? Finding out was going to be interesting.

  Images played in his head, teasing him, distracting him, making it impossible for him to concentrate on his plan to have most of the Sheetrock in the living room demolished by midnight. Instead, he found himself daydreaming about the lady next door…and waiting for her date to arrive.

  When he heard a car pull into her driveway an hour later, he moved lightning quick to the front window to get a look at the guy. He wasn’t becoming obsessed with Rachel, he assured himself. He was just curious as to what kind of man she found attractive. Obviously, she was sharp as a tack, so she’d go for someone with brains, he decided. Someone who had the sense not to try to boss her around and could make her laugh. As for looks, she was a people person and would probably be more interested in a man’s character than his looks.

  Outside, the sun had sunk and twilight was quickly darkening into early evening. Still, it was light enough for Turk to get a good look at the man walking up Rachel’s front walk. Stunned, Turk could only stare.

  Short and sprightly, his head as bare of hair as a billiard ball, the man had to be eighty, if he was a day.

  Confused, Turk frowned. This had to be a joke. Somehow, Rachel had figured out that he was watching and had arranged for some old man to show up on her doorstep as if he was courting her. She couldn’t seriously be dating someone old enough to be her grandfather.

  But the thought had hardly registered when Rachel opened her front door to her date. Her eyes and smile warm with affection, she laughed when he held out a small paper bag to her and she peaked inside. Delighted, she gave the old man a hug, grinned when he kissed her on the cheek, then linked her arm with his as they made their way to the older-model Oldsmobile parked at the curb. With a gentlemanly, old-fashioned flourish, he opened her car door for her and made sure she was comfortably settled before he walked around the car and climbed in beside her. The Oldsmobile roared to life, and seconds later, they sedately drove down the street and disappeared from view.

  Staring after them in disbelief, Turk swore. He would have bet good money that Rachel wasn’t the type of woman who fed on vulnerable old men with fat bank accounts and short life spans. Obviously, he was wrong.

  Savoring one of the caramels Harvey had brought her, Rachel closed her eyes and smiled as the candy melted in her mouth. “Nobody makes better caramels than you do, Harvey. You know if you sold your recipe to one of the companies that are always hounding you for it, you could sell your candy story and never have to work another day in your life.”

  “I don’t have to work now,” he chuckled. “And I can’t sell my grandmother’s recipe. She and my mama would roll over in their graves. That would be like you selling the recipe to Evelyn’s piecrust recipe. Even before she opened the bakery when your daddy was a kid, she had people knocking at her front door all hours of the night and day, wanting to buy one of her pies. She’d have your hide if you gave out that recipe. As far as I know, you’re the only one she ever gave it to.”

  Rachel smiled, remembering the day her grandmother had gotten her piecrust recipe out of the safe and given it to her. “She said she never trusted anyone else to make it right. After she made sure I’d memorized it, she tore up the recipe and burned it in the fireplace. Then she made me promise that I would take just as much care handing it down to my daughter or granddaughter. Not that I’m ever going to have one—”

  “Stop that!” he scolded, grinning. “You’ll find someone. I’m telling you, sweetheart—you were taught to cook by one of the best. All you have to do is cook for a man and he’ll be yours, just like that.”

  “If that’s the case, then why haven’t you ever married?” she countered. “You’re a darn good cook yourself, and you can make your own candy. You don’t need me to tell you that most women can’t even make candy. So why haven’t you gone out and found one with a sweet tooth?”

  His smile faded. “I found the right one years ago,” he confided. “She doesn’t know I’m alive, except as a friend.”

  “Who…?” His meaning finally hit her, and she gasped, “You mean Gran? You’re in love with Gran?”

  A wry, crooked smile curved the corners of his mouth. “It’s a lost cause, I know, but I have been for years.”

  “Oh, Harvey! Have you told her?”

  “No, and I’m not going to. I knew a long time ago that she would never love anyone but Clarence.”

  “But you should tell her!”

  “Oh, no!” he said quickly. “And you’ve got to promise that you won’t, either! Then she’d be uncomfortable around me and I’d lose her friendship. I won’t risk that.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Rachel. Stop and think about it. You know what a mass of contradictions she is. She went out and opened her own business at a time when women didn’t work outside the home, but she’s a stickler about her reputation. She won’t even ride in my car without a chaperone, honey. What do you think she’d do if she knew that all these years, when I came over to the house to fix a leaky faucet for her or mow the grass or clean out the gutters, that I was in love with her?

  “She’d freak,” Rachel agreed, “which is ridiculous. It’s the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake! No one’s going to talk about her if she rides around town with you in your car.”

  He grinned. “I know that and you know that, but here I am, picking you up first so that no one will talk about her.”

  “And it doesn’t seem to enter her head that if people are going to talk about her, it won’t be for riding around town with you. It’ll be because she’s a secret card shark who plays poker ever Saturday night!”

  Chapter 5

  “Well, you two certainly seem to be in a fine mood,” Evelyn said as they arrived at her house to pick her up. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Harvey said easily. “Rachel was just keeping me entertained. I see you’ve got your red shoes on. Feeling lucky, are you?”

  “I’ve had them on all day,” she retorted, grinning. “So be forewarned. I’m going to beat the socks off of both of you.”

  “You think so, do you? Well, I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? Did I mention that I had a dream last night—”

  “Here we go,” she teased. “Another one of your psychic dreams. So what’d you dream this time? That you’re going to win the lottery? You have to play first, sweetie.”

  “That’s okay, enjoy your fun,” he retorte
d. “Winning the lottery isn’t always about buying a ticket.”

  When her grandmother frowned, trying to figure that one out, Harvey just winked at Rachel and said, “Time’s a-wasting and Lawrence is probably wondering where we are. You girls ready?”

  “I just have to get the peach cobbler,” Evelyn said, heading for the kitchen. “Did you remember to pick up the fried chicken?”

  “It’s in the car,” he assured her.

  “Along with the potato salad I made,” Rachel added. “I’ll warn you ahead of time—it’s tart. Just about the best I ever made.”

  “Stop,” her grandmother laughed. “You’re making me hungry! Let’s get out of here before we decide to eat right here!”

  “That sounds good to me,” Harvey quipped. “Then we don’t have to share with Lawrence.”

  “Harvey!”

  Laughing at both women’s horrified exclamation, he hurried them outside to his car, then drove across town to Lawrence’s house. The other man was watching for them, and the second they pulled into the driveway, he stepped outside to help carry the food in.

  “You’re late,” he greeted them. “You ate without me, didn’t you.”

  “Harvey wanted to,” Rachel retorted, her blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Personally, I don’t know how you can be friends with the man. He was going to cut you out, Lawrence, just like that.”

  Not the least bit disturbed, he chuckled. “That’s okay, I ate his share of the deviled eggs while I was waiting for you guys.”

  “You did not!”

  “I was hungry—”

  “He’s bluffing,” Evelyn said, studying him shrewdly. “Look at his left eye. It always twitches when he’s bluffing. You really have to work on that, Lawrence.”

  Not the least bit put out that she’d seen through the lie, he grinned. “Yeah, but I had you going for a while, didn’t I?”