She quickly realized he meant what he said.
He was an excellent driver who appreciated the challenges of a winding road. The old Alfa Romeo roared through the star-speckled Montana night, flashing in and out of dark patches of moon shadow. They soared through dips that made Rebecca feel exciting loss-of-gravity tickles in her stomach.
Once outside the Summerfield limits, only the dash lights cast any illumination on them. She noticed how his taut forearm muscles leaped like machine cables each time he shifted—which he seemed to do a lot. And each time, his hand brushed her nyloned calf.
Again she told herself she really couldn’t move in the cramped compartment. But in truth she liked the way the gearshift vibrated against her leg, the way the engine pulsed and throbbed through her soles, and the power surges of the accelerating motor were strangely thrilling, as was the increasingly electric contact of his fingers brushing her calf….
She caught herself just in time. She must shake off this erotic lull and curb such dangerous thoughts. She was still in her…excitable mood of earlier tonight, before Rick’s onslaught of trivia had killed it. She mustn’t forget this was not some hot fantasy man beside her, but Dr. Dry-As-Dust, surgical snob extraordinaire. She would only get into trouble wanting him. He would be just like Brian—thinking she was good enough to use but not good enough for forever.
Conversation was impractical in the engine roar and wind noise of the open road. But two miles west of Summerfield they got stuck behind a slow-moving logging truck.
Whether he’s dry as dust or not, I still owe the guy an apology, she reminded herself. Again memory gave her a stab as she recalled how she and Lois had burst out laughing at him earlier today, how that nice smile died on his lips.
“Dr. Saville—”
“Please call me John. We aren’t in the office.” He snapped it out like an order, not a friendly request.
“John, Lois and I weren’t sharing any private joke earlier today when we had our giggle attack. We were just in a silly mood.”
“Look, if you’re worried I’ll change my mind about the raise, don’t.”
His curt, sarcastic tone made a storm of anger rise within her.
“That’s what I get,” she said in a voice caustic as acid, “for trying to be human with you.”
His handsome jaw went slack with surprise at her peppery retort. But the remark had brought back his earlier humiliation. He had tried to meet her halfway, and she’d laughed in his face like he was a fool.
He clamped his teeth rather than tell her what he felt like saying.
They finally got a clear stretch of road, and he flew past the logging truck, exhaust roaring. His fast, angry driving suited Rebecca’s mood, too.
The silence also gave her a chance to reconsider her earlier suspicion. A date arranged by Hazel, a suddenly flat tire, a supposed emergency phone call for the doctor…
“Which way?” His curt voice cut into her thoughts as they reached the town limits of Mystery.
“Go through town then turn right on Bluebush Road,” she told him. “It’s the Sagewood Apartments, a couple miles out of town.”
Minutes later he braked to a skidding stop in front of her building and waited impatiently, motor running, for her to shrug out of his jacket and get out. He refused to help her out, and the race car had not been designed to accommodate women in skirts. With all the grace of a truckload of bricks, she managed to get her feet outside and stood up.
The big arc-sodium yard light was on, and she could feel his eyes on her. Her clothes needed “a good pull-down” as her aunt Thelma used to call it.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“It’s on my way,” he assured her, his tone implying that’s the only reason he did it.
A moment later he gunned the motor, and she watched ruby-red taillights head back out toward the road.
John welcomed the feel of crisp night air stinging his fresh-shaven cheeks. It helped to cool his body, which still burned from the contact with Rebecca’s leg every time he shifted—that and the image of her rich, lustrous chestnut mane framing the face of an innocent wanton….
With her heartbreak smile, Rebecca O’Reilly was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But it didn’t matter because no matter how much he’d heard about her sense of humor, her spirit, even her optimistic heart, she’d shown him none of it.
In the dim light of his car he had seen in her eyes how she hated him.
Detested him might be a better word. Hate implied a level of emotional interest she could not possibly feel for him. And she’d detested him from their first meeting. Detested him probably because he wasn’t laid-back and informal like her precious Paul Winthrop or the other men she was used to. Because he didn’t joke around on the job. Her contempt angered him, and it only made him angrier trying to figure out why he cared at all.
And why did he have to mention his father to her? A pilot—what irony. His father bought him the jacket out of guilt over all the childhood beatings. Woodrow Saville had ended up a failure in his enlisted military career, never rising above the rank of sergeant and eventually drummed out of the Army early for poor conduct-and-proficiency reports. The best he could provide for his family was a trailer next to the Bitterroot Valley dump.
And he had taken all his failures out on his only son.
Despite the fact John was an outstanding student and athlete—or maybe because of that—his father treated him like a perpetual loser who screwed up everything he tried to do.
He remembered the commanding cadence of his father’s stern voice, an ironic warning from one of life’s big losers: Failure is not an option, John, and only weak men need to be liked. Despite his contempt for his father, he had been forced to live up to those hard words. And despite all his success as a surgeon, the early emotional scars remained.
But neither his pride nor his father’s indoctrination could quell the image of Rebecca pushing her hair out of her eyes, or that quick glimpse he got of her long, shapely legs. He was acutely aware of his body’s need for a woman. He hadn’t slept with one since he’d been out here, although a few had already made it clear that fact could easily change.
Too bad none of them was wicked, wild, teasing Rebecca. Just a flash of her eyes sent a hunger that gnawed to his spine. It was becoming more and more difficult to accept her rejection of him and contemplate another woman.
He hit a stretch of empty, open road and floored the gas pedal, feeling his Alfa surge like a powerful beast.
At least, he reminded himself, this was an off weekend for him. Tomorrow he’d put Mystery in his rearview mirror and spend two full days where he knew he was welcome and appreciated.
He was grateful for the distraction of his secret weekends. Who knows, he thought, with luck he might even get Rebecca O’Reilly out of his mind for a while.
One thing, however, was sure. She’d be on his mind tonight, all right, and if he was lucky, she’d be much nicer to him in his dreams.
“What in Sam Hill are you doing at home?” Hazel demanded when Rebecca called her at nine-thirty. “And alone? You and Rick should still be eating dessert.”
“We never got to dessert,” Rebecca assured her, placing ironic emphasis on the last word. “In fact, we never even got into the main course. I just now popped some three-day-old quiche Lorraine into the microwave. I’m starving.”
Hazel’s voice took on a steel edge. “Don’t tell me Rick stood you up, hon? If that—”
“Oh, heavens, Hazel, that would’ve been wonderful if he did that. The man’s a walking trivia handbook. Did you know that?”
“Now you mention it,” Hazel replied evasively, “maybe Larry said something about that.”
“Maybe?” Rebecca repeated ironically, still suspecting that she’d been “wrangled” by a master rancher.
“Oh, it couldn’t’ve been all that bad. It seems harmless enough, don’t you enjoy a little escapism?”
“Hazel, I mean it, say anything an
d he starts spouting facts. But he’s got no use whatsoever for a conversation, he’s all boring monologue. I thought you said he was a lot of fun?”
“No, dear, I told you his brother Larry said that. Family loyalty, I guess.”
“I s’pose,” Rebecca agreed, not quite believing her friend but lacking any solid evidence against her. “Well, that’s the last time I take an accountant’s recommendation on romance. Hazel, are you sure this date was on the up-and-up?”
“Why, what’s got into you?”
Briefly, Rebecca summed up the fiasco that ended in a flat tire and a ride home with John Saville.
“And I’ll just bet,” Hazel said, “that you were snotty with your boss, weren’t you?”
For a moment Rebecca remembered his strong-jawed profile as he drove, felt his hand brushing her leg, the pulsing throb of the car’s engine. It wasn’t him, she thought crossly—the physical reactions to his nearness were just my body reminding me I’ve been a virgin for way too long now.
“I was rather…crisp with him, yes,” she admitted. “But there’s no other way to deal with him. I tried to be nice, and he jumped all over me. See? He’s more like Brian than I could have imagined. I guess I’m just not upper-crust enough to deserve any respect. He treats me just the way all the other doctors—”
“Oh, phooey, Paul Winthrop didn’t treat you that way, and you know it. I’m not one to love doctors, girl, ’cause at my age I go to way too many of ’em, but there’s good in them. You just can’t see it anymore because you got your heart broke.”
Rebecca sighed. “Once burned—well, you know the phrase, Hazel. But I’m better off for the scars. Now I can see where I’m going to get into trouble, and John Saville is definitely the heartless type. There are way too many women chasing after him. And boy, can he turn on the charm when he wants to. You should have seen the grin he had on his face when Louise Wallant arrived one day. And she wasn’t there for a physical, either. She strolled right into his private office and shut the door. I hear the whole town’s burning up with gossip about the two of them—and they’re a perfect match. She’s just what I would have pictured for the ‘real’ Brian. She looks just right on Dr. Saville’s arm, too.”
“You’re wrong, Rebecca. Why, even you said he jumped all over you.”
“You know I didn’t mean that literally.” Rebecca rolled her eyes and smiled. “So I’ll ignore that one. But, look, if he likes me now, I’d hate to get on his bad side.”
“I’m not pushing you at him,” Hazel assured her. “You’re a big girl. You make up your own mind. But I don’t expect a catch like him to be available forever.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. He won’t stay single long—the first eligible woman who’s high enough in the social registry will snap him up. God knows plenty of them are finding excuses to come to the office.”
After the slightest pause Hazel said, “From what I heard today at Selmer’s Bakery, that may already have happened. A rich woman snapping him up, I mean.”
Rebecca was surprised, then dismayed, at the keen sting of disappointment these words caused her.
“With whom?” she inquired, hoping her tone was casual.
“Louise Wallant, of course.”
Louise Wallant…just hearing her name sent a bile taste into Rebecca’s throat.
“Could be the same saloon gossip you heard, is all. But Edna Beck claims Louise is the reason he chose Mystery to practice medicine.”
Rebecca recalled his angry words: I didn’t just stick a pin in the map. I picked this town.
“Edna says John came to this area for a rock-climbing vacation while he was still in medical school. Claims he and Louise had a summer fling. But then, Edna’s not one to worry how reliable her sources are. It could be a bunch of bull.”
“If it is true, as I said before, they’re the perfect match,” Rebecca pronounced dismissively.
Louise was rich, pretty and spoiled rotten. All through high school she had tried to steal away any guy who showed interest in Rebecca, mainly to punish her for not joining the Louise Adoring Fan Club. But she was more than welcome to Dr. Dry-As-Dust, Rebecca tried to convince herself.
“Nonsense,” Hazel scoffed at her. “I can believe the summer fling story, of course, considering Louise’s looks and body. She’s what my cowhands call ‘a target of opportunity.’ But John would never in a million years fall in love with her type. He has more sense than that.”
“Fall in love? What, John Saville? Hazel, a golden boy does not succumb to passions. Mating is an investment strategy like—like—opening an IRA.”
“Dear,” Hazel’s tone scolded, “you’re way too young to be so bitter. You’re turning into a grizzled old cynic.”
“Don’t forget I just barely survived a date tonight.”
“I’ll run my traps, dear, find out which good catches are out there. You’ll see, we’ll do better next time.”
“Forget it. No more dating surprises for me, thanks. The next guy I date will submit a résumé and psychological profile tests.”
Rebecca hung up feeling irritated and vaguely suspicious. Hazel bragged about being a Cupid, but tonight’s dating disaster proved even Cupid could blow it in a big way. She owed Hazel a lot, but she would not be the lab rat for another experiment in wretched blind dates.
Soon, however, her irritation at Hazel gave way to unwelcome thoughts about Louise Wallant. The successful young entrepreneur maintained one house in Mystery, another in Deer Lodge, a tourist mecca nestled amidst beautiful national forests in some of the state’s most pristine country. Her success in the bed-and-breakfast business, however, was not due so much to merit as to wealthy parents who constantly covered her financial butt.
Rebecca was sick to death of constantly hearing everyone around town talk about Louise this and Louise that as if she were a celebrity. All because she had a “perky” manner and one of those fake smiles as big as Texas—a smile that showed too many teeth, in Rebecca’s opinion.
She ate a few bites of her by now lukewarm quiche, then lost her appetite. She cleaned up in the kitchen before selecting a good novel and curling up on the sofa with a crocheted afghan draped over her shoulders.
However, it was no use. The words on the page kept squiggling out of focus as her thoughts were diverted.
She recalled one of the last things John Saville did today at the office. He changed the message on the answering machine, which usually gave his home phone number in case of emergencies. The new message said he’d be out of town all weekend and referred all calls to Dr. Brining in nearby Lambertville. He had told her and Lois, when he first took over his new practice, that he’d be out of town every other weekend “until further notice.”
She had joked to Lois that he was probably sneaking away to be alone with a mirror. Now she couldn’t help wondering if he was keeping a tryst with Louise.
“What do I care?” she said out loud, ignoring her novel.
“Serves each of them right.”
In fact she hoped they were an item: Dr. Dry-As-Dust and his toothy little profit princess. They could breed a bunch of perky and pretty little snobs to carry on their narcissism.
When it came to cattle breeds Hazel was sharp as a dagger. But when it came to judging men, Rebecca decided, Hazel was too easily tricked by a pleasing exterior. No question John Saville looked like a young Greek god. Unfortunately, like Dr. Brian Gage he had an ego far bigger than his heart.
Five
“Our young doctor looks plenty tuckered out,” Lois confided to Rebecca shortly after the office had opened on Monday morning. “And he’s got two surgeries scheduled today. Have you caught wind of the story Edna Beck’s been peddling?”
Rebecca, busy preparing a pickup for the lab courier, only nodded. No doubt the John and Louise rumor had already raced through the valley. She tried not to succumb to a sudden flaring of irritation at yet another reminder that poor girls who drove used cars were not marriageworthy for the great doctor
.
“Good,” she retorted, not even bothering to lower her voice. “I hope they boffed like bunnies the entire weekend. Maybe that’ll take some of the meanness out of him.”
Lois, who was adding toner to the office printer, looked askance at her co-worker. Rebecca had been snappish and out of sorts ever since she arrived. Luckily John Saville’s first patient today was Lauren Ulrick, a motormouth who never let anyone get in a word edgewise—even from the nearby exam room the doctor wouldn’t likely overhear Rebecca’s caustic barbs.
“Let me guess,” Lois told the younger woman. “You had a disastrous date on Friday night?”
“Actually the entire weekend was a washout,” Rebecca informed her. “All I got out of it was two days older.”
“You can afford two days,” Lois assured her. “To me you’re still a junior miss. Just wait till you’re staring down the road at forty, baby-cakes. It stares right back.”
Yeah, Rebecca thought disconsolately.
At the rate she was going, she’d be the town’s resident old maid by forty. She could just see her pathetic personal ad in Valley Singles: “Middle-aged virgin desperately seeks any more-or-less desirable man.”
Lois studied her friend’s preoccupied face and gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“Cheer up. Romance is a wheel of fortune—after it spins you down, it has nowhere to go but right back up.”
“It sure takes a long time to revolve,” Rebecca carped as she disappeared into the stock room to finish the quarterly drug inventory.
However, between entries on her clipboard, her mind kept returning to one thought like a tongue to a chipped tooth: John Saville on Friday night, the way he looked and moved and his manner with her—he had seemed almost…dangerous and exciting, far different from the humorless and rigid man she worked with.
Thinking of him, however, naturally brought her mind back to Louise Wallant. It was probably true about the two of them being involved. Involved in what—a casual affair or something more than that—she wasn’t very clear about. Whatever it might be, it certainly wasn’t her business. He had been very closemouthed to her and Lois about those weekends when he wouldn’t be available, but that was his right. He had no business in her love life, and she had no business in his.
The M.D. Courts His Nurse Page 5
