Check that one off. This place was just over a mile from my office.
I also wanted a place where I could hear the waves. It was a silly thing, really, but important to me. I had a memory, a vague, hazy memory, of being with my parents and sitting near a bamboo hut. I think we might have been in Hawaii, but what I remembered most was falling asleep with my head in my mother’s lap and listening to the sound of waves. That may have been the last vacation we’d taken as a family.
“This lovely home is thirty-two hundred square feet and has three and a half baths. All the flooring is Brazilian cherry,” Ruby said, reading from the colorful brochure in her hand. “Oh, it says there’s a balcony off the master bedroom suite. Let’s go see that.”
She led the way up a wide staircase. The railing gleamed in the sunlight as I trailed my fingertips along the top. This was just the kind of place I’d dreamed of. Not too big but full of upgrades. I’d feel pretty fancy living in a house like this. Too bad I’d thrown away that birthday tiara.
“Besides the master, there are three other bedrooms, plus a den on the first floor that could easily be converted into an office or another bedroom,” she added. “You’ll have to get to work to fill those up with babies.”
Of course she assumed I’d fill them up with babies. This was Bell Harbor, after all. Where everyone traveled two by two. If I didn’t couple up soon and hop on the Ark, it’d be just me and the unicorns swimming for dear life.
We walked down a spacious hallway into the oversized master suite. It was white with lots of windows. It was beautiful, but a little sterile. It reminded me of an operating room with all that absence of color. But it could be painted. An easy fix. And I was pretty good with cosmetic upgrades.
“This bedroom is very elegant. Very romantic. Those babies will come along in no time,” Ruby said, stepping over to a set of French doors. She opened them, and I followed her out onto the oversized balcony. The view was amazing, with the lake off to one side and a copse of trees on the other, offering some privacy. There were even two Adirondack chairs with a little table between them, just waiting for a mister and a missus to enjoy the sunset while sharing a glass of wine. My heart gave a little extra pulse. I might feel a little silly out here by myself, staring at that other empty chair. Maybe I could move it someplace else.
Ruby moved back inside, her silk suit rustling. It was bright orange. I’d never seen silk that color before, but somehow, on her, it seemed stylish. I could never get away with a look like that. Growing up with red hair, I’d learned to keep my clothing choices subdued. Every once in a while, I’d go crazy and wear emerald green.
“Oh, come see this.” Her reverent voice echoed as she stared from the bedroom into the bathroom. I crossed the plush white carpet to see whatever it was that had made her so breathy, and offered up my own girly sigh of rapture. The master bathroom was painted in dove-gray hues accented with rustic wood. Bowl sinks rested above the his and hers vanities, and taking up one entire wall was a shower so big I could wash my car in there. Six showerheads of various sizes pointed in every direction. A built-in bench filled one corner.
Ruby waggled her eyebrows and jabbed me with her bony elbow. “That shower’s not for getting clean. That’s a shower for getting down and dirty, if you know what I mean.”
Yes, I did know what she meant.
But the last time I’d had sex in a shower was in a dingy frat house, and I’d learned too late that everyone in the whole damn place could hear us. I vowed to never bathe tandem again after that incident, but this shower might change my mind—if I had the right somebody to try it with.
A gleaming, soaped-up Tyler Connelly burst into my imagination, and I gripped the bathroom counter for support. Visions of him had followed me around like an eager intern ever since I’d seen him in my office days ago. It was terribly annoying, and yet picturing him in that shower, smiling his I’m-not-so-very-naughty smile and offering me a sudsy loofah, nearly made me gasp out loud. I turned my back on the shower. And on him. I saw my flushed reflection in the mirror.
“Looks like it would use up a lot of water,” I said breathlessly.
“Sure, but what fun,” Ruby answered.
Yeah. Fun. Everyone seemed to think I could use some of that kind of fun. I was starting to believe it myself. Why else would that encounter with Tyler have left me so exhilarated and yet so frustrated?
Ruby and I looked through the rest of the house, at all the nooks and crannies, and I could actually imagine myself living here. Other than needing fresh paint in a few areas, it was damn close to perfect.
“The kitchen has all-new stainless steel appliances,” Ruby said as we entered the final room. “And this oversized island is perfect for making gourmet meals. Do you enjoy cooking for your family, Evelyn?”
I’d hinted repeatedly that there was no family to speak of, but it hadn’t sunk in. She must have thought I was teasing. I shook my head at her question while noticing the flecks of black and gold in the granite countertop. “I usually just eat at the hospital, but maybe if I had a kitchen like this, I might learn to cook.”
I’d never really had spare time before, so the idea of nurturing a hobby was a novel one. Maybe I would learn to cook, or play the cello. Or finally finish a game of sudoku.
Or go on a date.
And there was Tyler again, standing in this gourmet kitchen, holding out a chilled glass of pinot grigio as I came home from work. He was wearing an apron because he was a good cook. And he’d made me dinner. Chicken Marsala.
Apparently, if I was going to fantasize in the middle of the day, I was going to make it count. So of course my imaginary boy toy could cook. He probably did laundry too.
The Tyler of my brain shook his head and evaporated.
At last, my subconscious was acknowledging the futility of that fantasy. Thinking of him in a domestic setting was ridiculous. He was ridiculous, asking me out as if I were some sorority girl who would giggle over his brush with the law. I wasn’t, and I wouldn’t. Going out with him was out of the question.
It was as crazy as my parents getting back together.
I tamped down a sigh.
Tyler Connelly wasn’t my real problem. He was just a symptom of it. He’d stirred up sensations in me I’d buried deep during the busy days of residency and fellowship training, along with every notion of love and romance that I’d denounced after watching my parents’ marriage implode.
But they were blissfully back together again.
And I had moved to Bell Harbor where every day was a frickin’ Viagra commercial, followed by a Toys “R” Us ad. Everyone else in this town was married with children, or at least on their way to that. There was just no avoiding it. And they all wanted me to join their matrimonial sect. How long could I swim against this tide?
Maybe it was time to drink the Kool-Aid. Maybe it was time for me to find myself a man. A real man. A grown-up man. A man who would want to get married and even have some children. Someone with a fabulously important career, who I could talk to while we drank outrageously expensive wine on the balcony off our bedroom and not even worry about spilling it on that stark white carpet.
“Well, what do you think of this place, Evelyn?”
What did I think of this place?
I looked over Ruby’s shoulder. There was Tyler again, standing near the pantry, nodding at me with encouragement. His eyes were bedroom dreamy, his dimples cavernously deep. He was wearing the apron again—but nothing else. He reached down . . . and lifted the hem.
“I’ll buy it,” I gasped, and my stomach dropped to the floor.
“You bought a house?”
Hilary stood in my office doorway holding a twenty-ounce cup of coffee. I looked up from my computer screen in surprise. I hadn’t even realized she was there. She looked tired today, and thin. She always looked thin, but she’d lost weight recently. Evil fri
end.
“How did you know I bought a house? I only made the offer last night. They haven’t even accepted it yet.”
Hilary sank into the chair across from my desk. “Yes, they have. My cousin, Judy, lives next door to their cleaning lady, and they told her they were going to say yes. How could you keep this a secret from me?”
“Apparently I can’t,” I teased, but she looked wounded rather than amused. “Hil, I’m kidding. I didn’t tell you yet because I wanted it to be official before I started spreading the word.” I had underestimated the level of nepotism and grapevinery in this town. I should have known the offer would be broadcast far and wide before the sun rose.
“Well, it’s nearly official. Congratulations. I guess.” She took a sip of coffee and stared out the window. I’d seen that look before.
“Really? You’re pouting because your cousin Judy’s neighbor has a big mouth and told you before I could? Not fair.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “No, I’m pouting because Judy told Gabby before she told me. Now everyone in town knows, and the only person I got to tell was you.”
I would never understand this small-town mentality. Wait until they found out I was ready to start dating. That might require a special meeting of the city council.
“Well, thank you for telling me. Now I don’t have to bother waiting for my Realtor to call. But I do have some other news.” My pulse picked up a little speed. This was going to trump buying a house.
“Me too,” she said, totally cutting me off. “I want you to give me a tummy tuck.”
Oh. She won that round.
“A tummy tuck? Do you need a tummy tuck?” She was teeny tiny beneath that formfitting dress. I’m not sure I could find much to tuck.
“Yes,” she said. “No matter how many crunches I do, those babies of mine left me with a marsupial pouch.”
I laughed, but she didn’t. She seemed quite serious. In fact, now that I thought about it, she’d been kind of serious for the last few days.
“Of course I’ll do it if you want me to. But, Hil, is everything OK? You’ve seemed a little off your game.”
She reached over and shut my office door, her face as tense as her Botox would allow. “Everything is fine. Except I think Steve might be considering an upgrade.”
Steve Pullman had never been my favorite guy. I found him condescending and abrupt, but he was Hilary’s husband, and she loved him, so when they got married, he became my reluctant friend-in-law. “What do you mean, upgrade? Like Hilary 2.0?”
She shrugged and took a big slug of coffee. “Or maybe a whole new model. Some hotshot lawyer just joined his firm, and he can’t stop talking about her. Apparently she does amazing things with the tax code.”
“That whore.”
Hilary smiled. “She is a whore. A tax-coding whore and she’s trying to steal my husband.”
I knew she was being deliberately dramatic, and I smiled for that. Even Hilary gave a tiny chuckle. But her eyes were still a little sad, and it made my heart hurt.
“Do you really think this woman is an issue, or are you just feeling like a little body work will remind him of how awesome you are? Because you are, you know. Most women would die to have your figure.”
She rubbed her fingertips across her forehead. “I don’t know. I’m probably just being silly. He’s working on some big case, and I’ve been busy helping Chloe set up that mission trip in Haiti. We’re both so tired and the kids are so demanding. We never have time to just sit and talk.”
They lived in the same house, so it seemed odd to me that they wouldn’t have time for that. But then again, I was no expert on marriage. Or parenting. Or relationships in general.
“Maybe you should go away for a long weekend or something. Without the kids. Go to Vegas, or Chicago, or take one of those wine-tasting tours up north. Isn’t that what couples do?”
She took another sip of coffee and stared at me over the rim. “That’s not a bad idea. We haven’t gone anyplace, just the two of us, in about a hundred years. Will you stay at my house and take care of my kids and my dogs, and the turtle and the fishes? And the gerbil?”
My skin itched just thinking about all that dander and poo. “No. That’s too many pets. But I will cover your patient load on a Friday so you can take a long weekend.”
Hilary smiled again, her face relaxing into the original version, the one I’d met back in residency.
“You would? That would be fabulous. Really fabulous. I think I’ll go do some web browsing and find a romantic getaway. Do you know of any?”
She burst out laughing at her own joke, because obviously I wouldn’t have a clue about romantic getaways, even though the whole idea had been mine.
I crossed my arms while she cracked herself up. “That’s just hurtful,” I finally said, but it wasn’t, really. It was actually kind of funny, and I was glad to see her spirits lift. Before, she’d been drawn and exhausted, but now she looked like her usual vibrant self, and all because of something I’d suggested. Maybe I was better at this relationship stuff than I’d realized, and she was going to be extra happy to hear I was ready for one of my own.
But she glanced at her watch and pushed up from the chair. “Oh, shit. Is that the time? I’m supposed to be in surgery.” She dropped the coffee cup into my wastebasket. “I’m still serious about the tummy tuck, though. Marsupial pouch has got to go. I’ll schedule it and let you know.”
She was gone with a flutter of white lab coat and long, toned legs.
“You’re late for surgery, Dr. Pullman!” I heard Delle’s voice call after her. Then I heard footsteps coming down the hall toward my office, and seconds later the receptionist filled my doorway.
“I heard you bought a house, Dr. Rhoades. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chapter 6
THE BELL HARBOR COMMUNITY PARK sat halfway between my apartment and the hospital. It was a mystical green space full of big, old oak trees and lots of winding paths, and the perfect place to take my early morning jog when the weather got too warm for beach running. Today I had just enough time to get in a few miles before heading off to work.
As I walked underneath the arbor entrance and adjusted my ear buds, a symphony of high-pitched yapping caught my attention. I pulled the buds from my ears and spotted a cluster of yippy little dogs tangled up around a man’s muscular legs. One fluffy pooch bounced around like a furry Ping-Pong ball, another stretched as far as his lead would allow and bayed at a chattering squirrel, while a third mutt sprinted in a circle around them all, tightening the noose on the whole crew.
The imprisoned dog walker lifted a foot to disengage from the mess, but a black-and-white spotted puppy rose right along with his shin. “Come on, Taffy, you furry little rat.”
My gaze traveled up his leg and locked on his face. That face. I flushed all over as Tyler Connelly looked up from the canine chaos and peered straight at me. What was he doing here? Why was he surrounded by a circus of little dogs? And most important, why hadn’t I put on some makeup before leaving my apartment?
For an eighth of a second, I considered dashing behind an oak tree, but he’d obviously seen me. I was only twenty feet away. Nothing to do now but keep on walking. I approached, nonchalant, and offered him an awkward wave. The ear buds dangled uselessly around my neck.
“Good morning, Mr. Connelly,” I said, as if seeing him here had been my plan all along.
He smiled in obvious but unflustered surprise and pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, no doubt to mesmerize me with his laser-beam eyes. Cheeky bastard.
“Good morning, Dr. Rhoades.” He said my name as if he were tasting it on his tongue. “Are you stalking me?” He sounded playfully hopeful.
“Not at all. Just here for a little exercise.”
My hair was in two short ponytails down low behind my ears. It was a childish style, bu
t at my hair’s current shoulder length, this was about my only option for exercising. I wished, at that moment, I’d left it loose, even while acknowledging that what my hair looked like was completely irrelevant. My appearance didn’t matter because I was in no way trying to attract him. In no way. Trying to attract him. No way.
A long, skinny rust-colored dog pulled on my shoelace.
Tyler tugged on its leash. “Hey, Doxie, knock that off.”
“That’s all right.” I crouched down to scratch the dachshund mix behind his droopy ears. That was my first mistake. It brought me eye level with Tyler’s goods. I hadn’t had my face this close to a penis since my last relationship and the celebration of National Steak and Blow Job Day, which is apparently a big deal among the steak-eating, penis-endowed community.
I averted my gaze from Tyler’s wiener to the wiener dog instead.
One was trying to ruin my shoe. The other could ruin my life.
“He’s a menace,” Tyler said.
I could only assume he meant the dog.
“But cute,” I said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a little dog kind of guy.”
Tyler tried to untwist one leash. “I’m not. These aren’t my dogs.”
I stood up again and looked at his face just in time to see those dimples deepen. That was my second mistake.
“They’re not your dogs? Did you steal them?”
I was teasing, and he knew it.
“No. I didn’t steal them, just like I didn’t steal the Jet Ski.” His voice lowered to a whisper when he said that last part, as if we shared a special secret, but one I still didn’t understand.
“So you’ve said,” I whispered back. “But if these aren’t your dogs, then why are you walking them?”
A sly, lazy smile curved his lips into nearly a pucker.
My mouth watered irrationally.
“That’s kind of a funny story, actually,” he said. “Have dinner with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Best Medicine, The Page 7
