by Diana Palmer
“It’s his life, I guess,” Kitty replied. “But it’s such a shame. He’s a good man. Surely his wife wouldn’t want him to live alone forever?”
Nurse Turner shook her head. “She was a tenderhearted little thing. She’d never have wanted that. But he misses her something fierce. Always has. Pity they couldn’t have a child.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” Kitty replied.
She didn’t say anything else to Drew, but it was obvious by the next day that she’d already said too much. The first thing he did when he came in that morning was to give her a black glare and read her the riot act about the condition of the waiting room.
“Those magazines are two years old,” he said shortly. “Throw them all out and get subscriptions to new ones. Meanwhile, buy some at the drugstore.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, and resisted the urge to salute.
He sighed angrily. “And do something about that stupid rubber plant in the corner. It’s dying.”
“You’d die, too, if little boys dumped gummy worms and old soft drinks and used bubble gum on you,” she murmured.
“Fertilize the thing and keep it watered or get rid of it,” he muttered. “And your desk…”
“It looks better than yours,” she snapped right back, losing her temper. “At least I don’t save year-old sale papers from variety stores and parking tickets that I don’t pay!”
He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and marched off down the hall so loudly that Nurse Turner came out of the filing room and stared after him.
From that point on, the day deteriorated. Grown-up people who came in for minor complaints got lectures, children went away sulky, Nurse Turner finally hid in the bathroom and Kitty was thinking seriously of sitting under her desk until quitting time.
The telephone rang noisily and she answered it, painfully aware that Dr. Morris was standing nearby, visibly hoping for someone he could attack on the other end.
“It’s Coltrain,” came the deep voice over the line. “Are the closets full yet?” he added with faint amusement.
“Every one,” Kitty said. “Not to mention the bathroom.”
“Let me talk to him while there’s still time.”
She handed the receiver over smartly. Drew came to stand beside her, far too close, while he spoke tersely to Dr. Coltrain. One hand was in his pocket, moving his car keys and loose change around. His arm in its lab coat brushed against Kitty’s with the movement, and she felt odd sensations all over her body. It disturbed her. She tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. She was already wedged against the desk.
Drew asked Dr. Coltrain something and then listened. While he was listening, he happened to glance down at Kitty and his black eyes met her searching, uneasy green ones with an impact that stopped her breath. It felt a little like asthma, when the air got trapped in her lungs and she couldn’t get it out again.
He didn’t look away, and neither did she. The sudden tension in the office was almost tangible. She saw muscles move in his jaw as his teeth clenched. His eyes began to glitter faintly, and she became aware of him as she never had been before.
“What?” he murmured into the telephone, because he hadn’t heard a word Coltrain was saying. He blinked and managed to look away from Kitty’s eyes. Odd, how he felt, as if he’d stuck his fingers in an electric socket. It made him angry, that he should feel such things today of all days. “Yes, I’ll meet you at the restaurant,” he said. There was a pause and he glanced at Kitty as if he suddenly hated her. “No, I don’t want to bring anyone,” he said deliberately.
Kitty dropped her eyes and didn’t move. He was still too close and she didn’t trust her voice, either. She wanted to get up and run away.
“Yes, I’ll do that,” Drew finished. He hung up the telephone and abruptly bent, jerking Kitty’s chin up so that he could search her eyes. “Have you been talking to Lou?”
Her breath fluttered in her throat. “Dr. Lou?” she faltered. “I…I haven’t seen her since Christmas.”
“I don’t need the Coltrains to play Cupid for me, and I don’t want you as a dinner date,” he said flatly. His eyes ran over her angrily, noting the rise and fall of her firm breasts, the increase of her breath. She was aware of him, and he knew it, and hated it. “I don’t want you, period. You’re an employee. Nothing more. You make that clear to the Coltrains.”
“I’ll do that very thing,” she said, losing her own temper. “And for your information, I am not interested in you in any respect at all. I don’t date people who are married to ghosts!”
He glared at her even more as the sound of footsteps coming along the hall diverted him. He realized that he was holding Kitty’s soft little chin in his long fingers and he dropped his hand abruptly before Nurse Turner came into Kitty’s office.
“Doesn’t anybody work around here?” he demanded when he saw his nurse standing behind him.
“It’s lunchtime, Doctor,” Nurse Turner stammered.
“Then why the hell don’t you both go and eat something?” he demanded. He stormed off back to his own office, leaving Kitty and Nurse Turner and the last patient of the morning openmouthed.
It didn’t get any better after lunch. There were three small emergencies that held up office hours, so that it was after seven when they ushered the last patient back to Dr. Morris.
“Run for it,” Nurse Turner advised, grabbing her sweater and purse. “When he comes out of there with no patients as buffers, you’re going to need an asbestos shield.”
“I can’t,” Kitty groaned, “I have to put everything away.”
“I’ll pray for you,” Nurse Turner said sincerely, glanced down the hall from which an audible roar could be heard and shot out the front door.
The patient, middle-aged Mr. James, came rushing down the hall despite his painful arthritis, grasping a scribbled charge slip.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it to Kitty with a quick glance over his shoulder, like a drowning man expecting an imminent shark attack. “I’m to stop smoking, lose thirty pounds and move the building five feet to the left,” he added with grim amusement. “I’ll send a check right along, and you can give me another appointment for my arthritis in three months on whichever day you think he might be in a good mood!” He turned and fled for his life. “On second thought, I’ll phone you about that appointment!” he called as he left.
He went out the door just as Drew came into the hall, and it seemed to Kitty as if flames were following right behind him. He paused at her desk, his black eyes glittering at her as if all his problems were her fault.
There was only one thing to do. She stood up, sighed and held her hands high over her head as if she were an escaped prisoner trying to give up while there was still time.
He started to say something and suddenly burst out laughing. “My God, is it that bad?” he asked.
“Mrs. Turner left skid marks. She offered to pray for me,” she informed him. “And I wouldn’t bet good money that Mr. James will ever come back.”
He let out a weary sigh and leaned against the door facing, checking his watch. “I’m late for dinner, to boot.” He glanced at her almost sheepishly, for him. “Go home.”
“Post haste,” she promised, grabbing her jacket and purse. Her hands were all thumbs as she tried to mate buttons. She was out of breath, not only due to Drew’s bad temper. It was hard to make her lungs work. The pollen count had been extremely high.
“Good God, Kitty, you’re hopeless,” he said impatiently. He took the purse from her nerveless fingers, put it down on the chair and pulled her close. He slowly fastened the buttons, his mouth just inches from her forehead. She could feel his warm breath there, his knuckles moving gently against her breasts, and her legs trembled under her.
Drew was feeling something equally powerful and trying with all his might to resist it. This was the day, the anniversary of his beloved Eve’s death. He felt guilty that he was attracted to Kitty at all. It had made him irritable and impat
ient all day.
He looked down at her soft mouth and his hands stilled as he wondered how it would feel to kiss her. He hadn’t kissed a woman, touched a woman, since his wife’s lingering death. He was hungry and alone and miserable.
His fingers slid up to Kitty’s face and cradled it, lifting it slowly. His eyes lingered on her lips while he fought his own need, and hers.
Inevitably he bent those few inches, drawn like a puppet on a string, and he heard her soft intake of breath as his mouth pushed very gently at her set lips. His fingers tightened to hold her there; unnecessarily, because she couldn’t have drawn away to save her own life.
He made a rough sound and his mouth pushed down against hers with years of hunger behind it, grinding her lips under his. He moaned out loud, his arms dropping, enfolding her, lifting her to the length of his hard, fit body.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Kitty knew that he was using her, that in spite of the fervor and heat of his passion, she was standing in for his late wife. But it didn’t seem to matter. No one had ever kissed her with such anguished need, with such hunger. She gave in to him at once, swamped by his fervor and her own curiosity and need. She knew what it was to be alone. She understood his grief. He only wanted comfort, and she could give him that. She sighed and pressed into him, not counting the cost, not looking ahead even by a second. Her arms clenched at his back and she gave him what he wanted.
Time seemed to stop while they kissed like starving people, there, in the silence of the office with only the big grandfather clock in the waiting room to be heard above their own rough breathing. She felt Drew move, leaning back against the wall so that he could, more comfortably, take her weight. His hands slid up and down her back, smoothing her against him. He became aroused, and his groan was rough in the silence as he turned her quickly, so that she was against the wall and his full weight was pressed to her.
He felt her quiver with pleasure and he had to drag his mouth away from the nectar of hers. He looked into her eyes with blinding passion, racked with desire he hadn’t felt in ages. He knew his body was trembling, but so was hers. He hesitated, trying to clear his mind just enough to allow for rational thought. He couldn’t even focus. She tasted like the sweetest kind of honey under his mouth, generous with her kisses, her embraces. Generous, like his Eve…
Eve.
He jerked away from her, his eyes full of the shame and guilt he felt. He didn’t even have an excuse. He’d lost his head so completely that he could barely form words in his mind, much less voice them.
To his amazement, she reached up with a soft hand and stroked his cheek. Her eyes, far from being shamed or puzzled, were full of understanding.
“It’s all right,” she said softly, her voice breathless from the kiss. “I understand. You must miss her terribly, today of all days.”
His heart caught in his throat. He couldn’t speak.
She stepped against him, demurely this time, so that she didn’t make things any worse, and slid her arms around him. It was an embrace of comfort and tenderness rather than impassioned need. Fascinated, he felt his own arms enclose her as he fought and controlled his desire.
He hadn’t had comfort. Not like this. Eve’s parents missed her, of course, but they weren’t warm and loving people. They welcomed Drew like an old friend when he came, but not with this sort of uninhibited affection. He’d never had it before.
She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder with a smile. “Are the Coltrains taking you out to eat?” she asked softly, trying to hide her outrageous reactions to him.
His hand idly smoothed over her hair in its neat bun. He allowed himself for just one minute to wonder how it looked hanging loose down her back. There was so much of it that it must reach her waist…
“Yes, they are,” he replied deeply. He sighed, closing his eyes. He was in no hurry to move, none at all. In fact, his arms contracted gently.
She didn’t move. She could see the big grandfather clock against the wall from her vantage point. They’d both have to leave soon. But just for a minute or so, this was very nice. She’d had no one to hold her when her father had died. She wished she’d known Drew then.
“Do you have any family?” he asked at her ear.
She shook her head. “I only had Dad.”
His hand stilled and then moved again on her hair. “You had no one when he died.”
“No.” She remembered the loneliness of it very well. “You had her people, at least, didn’t you?”
“They don’t…touch,” he said after a minute. “They’re very reserved, all of them, even Eve’s younger brother.” He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t realize how comforting it was, to be held…”
He stopped, as if he was giving away something he didn’t want to admit.
“No one held me, when I lost Dad,” she said, easing him past the bad moment. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe everyone really does need a hug, now and again.”
He murmured softly. His own eyes closed. He drank in the subtle smell of her body, a fragrance like gardenias. She always smelled nice, and she was a neat little thing, except for buttons that never seemed to be done up properly. He was sorry that he’d been so efficient earlier about buttoning those buttons, because he’d have liked to feel her breasts against him closer than this.
The route of his thoughts startled him. He mustn’t let this situation deteriorate. He couldn’t afford to get involved with his receptionist.
He eased her away finally, breath by breath, and coaxed her eyes up to his.
She searched them, quiet and curious, like some contented cat. Her breath was still ragged.
He thought about the scent she was wearing and frowned. “Doesn’t perfume bother you at all?” he asked suddenly.
“Perfume? Why, no, I don’t… Well, I’ve never actually thought about it. Why?”
“You sound raspy.” He left her and went back into his office. He returned a minute later with his stethoscope.
He plopped her down on the edge of her desk and slid his hand inside her blouse to listen to her chest.
Her sharp intake of breath was as loud as the sudden frantic beating of her heart. He smiled as he listened, flattered by her reaction. Then he scowled. He heard the rasp of her breath as she exhaled, along with the telltale wheezing.
“Take a deep breath. Hold it. Now breathe out, as hard as you can. Once more,” he instructed.
He lifted his head and removed the stethoscope, scowling. “How long have you been wheezing like this?”
She was still getting her heart calmed down. “Just…just today.”
“How long have you been wearing that perfume?”
“It’s new,” she faltered. “I bought it yesterday. This is the first time… You think it’s the perfume?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t wear it again. If you’re not better in the morning, I’ll send you over to your allergist and let him listen to you. Meanwhile, drink more coffee. The caffeine will help.”
“I know,” she said gently, having learned long ago that it helped attacks.
“You’ve got my number if you get in trouble during the night?”
She was really touched now. “Yes, sir.”
“Use it if you need me.” He touched her cheek lightly, his earlier bad temper forgotten in his concern for her. “I have to go,” he said then.
She managed a smile and stepped back. “So do I.”
He picked up her purse and handed it to her, trying to dismiss the taste of her mouth that still clung to his lips. He liked the taste of her, the feel of her. He was worried about her. He needed a drink, he decided as he stared at her.
“I’ll lock up,” he said. “Go ahead.” She nodded. “Good night, Dr. Morris.” He caught her by the sleeve. “Drew.” She bit her lower lip. “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be quite proper.”
His annoyance made a frown between his dark eyes. “Was kissing me that way quite proper?” he taunted.
She
searched his face. “Probably not, but I wouldn’t feel right to work with you on a first-name basis.” She lowered her eyes. “Sometimes people do things totally out of character,” she added vaguely, “things that they regret the next day.” “Do you think I’ll regret this?” “Yes,” she said honestly. Her eyes were clear and very bright. “But you shouldn’t. You’ve had a rough day and the memories must be pretty terrible from time to time. You acted like any other human being who was hurting and needed someone to hold on to, just for a little while. As you said, it was nice to be held and comforted. I enjoyed it, too, but you needn’t worry that I’m going to go all soppy and start getting ideas about my place in your life.”
He folded his arms across his chest and studied her curiously. “You’re blunt.”
“I grew up with a soldier. He taught me never to tell lies. Well, I wouldn’t tell Nurse Turner that orange lipstick made her look like a dried-up lemon, but that’s not exactly lying,” she amended.
He chuckled. “Neither would I. She has boxes of needles,” he murmured with a conspiratorial smile.
She smiled back, and he thought that he’d never realized until now how much he enjoyed watching her smile. They seemed to have reached a new level of comfort with each other.
“I don’t want wild sex or another wife,” he replied after a minute, with equal honesty, “but I have to admit, being hugged could be habit-forming.”
“You’re sure about the wild sex part?” she asked with wide eyes. “Because if you ever change your mind, here I am.”
“Have you ever had wild sex with a man?” he teased.
She shrugged. “I’ve never had sex, period, but I’m long overdue for a feverish initiation. Just so you know,” she added with a grin. “But give me plenty of warning, because I just know I’ll be a fanatic about prevention.”
He burst out laughing, and she blushed.
“Get out of here and go home!” he roared, choking on mirth. “For God’s sake, have you no shame? Propositioning your own boss!”
