Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (13 page)

what he’d say if she answered.

Wondering what he’d do if she didn’t.

Rebecca felt decadent. After leaving her sister in Atlanta and listening

to Hannah and Mimi chatter on about how their hope chests had triggered

the events that had resulted in their proposals, her imagination had

gone wild. Maybe there was something to the magic surrounding the hope

chests, after all.

Optimistic, she’d spread all her new purchases across her bed and

imagined wearing them for Thomas. Finally she decided to experiment with

the bath products and aromatherapy candles. The combination of lavender,

ylang-ylang and grapefruit was supposed to relax her. The lavender

candle represented comfort in romance, idealism and tranquility. Mimi

claimed cinnamon was supposed to be especially enticing to a man.

Did the apple-cinnamon muffins she’d baked for the meals on wheels

count? She could smell them in the house.

Not that she had any exciting plans later….

No, if she did, she’d use the jasmine perfume that had cost way too

much. Just a little dab at the nape of the neck and between her breasts

promised to drive

men wild with desire. Just what she’d like to do with Thomas. Then she

could have a good old-fashioned evening of sexy lovemaking… the way a

baby was meant to be created.

The thought made her grow still for a moment. Was she acting out of

desperation or selfishness to want a child of her own?

In a perfect world, Thomas would fall in love with her, and the question

would be moot. She closed her eyes, remembering the erotic poetry Grammy

Rose had given her. The words hummed through her head in a sultry melody.

The doorbell rang and she froze, the hot bubbly water sloshing around

her as she grappled with the return to reality.

What if it was Jerry?

The mere idea obliterated the poetry from her mind.

She still hadn’t talked to him about New Year’s Eve, and it was only two

nights away. Surely he’d gotten the hint.

The doorbell chimed again.

Drat.

She didn’t want a romantic evening or any other kind with the clumsy oaf.

Knowing she couldn’t stall the final no forever, she dried off, then

pulled on her new velour robe and tied the sash, grinning as she

remembered the girls raving about the rose color highlighting the

natural rosy glow of her cheeks. She checked the antique mirror from the

hope chest-yep, pink as a rose.

Not that she wanted to look especially good or rosy for Jerry. Quite the

opposite. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Maybe she should

close those

cinnamon muffins up tight before she opened the door, and put on her

ratty flannel.

The doorbell blared again. He was awfully persistent tonight.

Steeling herself to whip out a fast refusal to any invitations he might

offer, she opened the door. But instead of the big-bellied neighbor with

the leering eyes, Thomas stood on the other side.

And his eyes definitely weren’t leering. They were sinfully wanting as

they traveled over her, all the way from the damp tendrils of her hair

down to her bare hot-pink toes. Toes that curled upward at the wild heat

flaring in his eyes.

Thomas had no idea why he’d driven to Rebecca’s except that her place

reminded him of comfort and home, and she was safe.

At least, he’d thought she was safe.

Until she’d opened the door.

Good grief! What had she done to herself? The exotic scents of some kind

of body bath floated around him, the scent of cinnamon and lavender and

sultry woman colliding in one big sensory storm that assaulted his nerve

endings and took his arousal to a completely new level.

“Thomas?” her voice squeaked out, hoarse and throaty which only cranked

that arousal up another notch.

“I…I…” Why had he come? “I wanted to tell you that the painters came

today.” Lame. Lame. Lame. “So you can start the murals anytime.” Now go,

before you peel off that puff of a robe and taste that delicious skin.

“Oh?” She fidgeted with the top of her robe. If she was trying to cover

herself, it was too damn late. He’d already spied more than a hint of

cleavage and realized that Rebecca had indeed been hiding some very nice

curves. Some very voluptuous curves that jumpstarted all kinds of wicked

fantasies.

“That was fast.”

He nodded mutely. What were they talking about?

“D-did you want to come in?”

Did he? Lord, yes.

Should he? Hell, no.

“Thomas, are you all right?”

“It’s been a bad day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her voice dripped with sweet concern. “Come on in. I

can make some coffee or tea.”

“C-coffee would be great.” Now he was stuttering. But as she turned and

he followed her to the small kitchen alcove, he was so mesmerized by the

sway of her hips encased in that slinky rose material, he forgot to

speak altogether. Some men preferred skinny women like the thin models

in magazines, but he definitely preferred a woman with shape.

And Rebecca had plenty of curves.

Hands jammed into his pockets so he wouldn’t touch her, he watched as

she busied herself starting coffee. She also turned on the teapot and

removed two cups from the oak cupboard, then sat sweetener in a small

dish on the bar and poured milk into a dainty little creamer with tulips

painted on the side. Finally she offered him a cinnamon muffin. “I make

them for the meals on wheels,” she explained.

That comment should have yanked his libido back in place fast, but he

was too far gone.

“So, what happened today, Thomas?”

His frustration and worry over the boy’s future returned.

The way Larry Lackey had blamed him.

His desire for anything but comfort forgotten, he told her about the

delivery.

Rebecca had never seen anyone look so miserable as he relayed the

excruciating details of the difficult delivery and Larry Lackey’s

accusations. In light of the guilt Lackey’s words evoked, the weight and

responsibility of Thomas’s job seemed even more magnified.

She could no more resist comforting him than she could resist drawing

her next breath. She took the stool beside him and pressed her hand over

his. “Mr. Lackey was just in pain, Thomas,” Rebecca said softly.

“Lashing out, reacting out of anger. I’m sure he didn’t mean what he

said. He’ll realize it and apologize later.”

“I know that, but still, if there was more I could have done…” Thomas

stretched his fingers out in front of him as if he had to examine his

hands for any flaws. “I’ve reviewed all Rachel Lackey’s files-“

“And there was no way you could have predicted the child’s problem.” She

squeezed his hand, feeling the tension knotted in his fingers as he

gripped hers tightly. “You’re not God, Thomas. You’re a doctor. You can

only do the best you can, and then put it in His hands.”

He stared at her as if she was speaking some foreign language, but

somewhere deep in those green eyes she saw the struggle. He wanted to

believe her, yet the

Lackeys’ attitude and his own baby brother’s death haunted him.

“It’s not that I’m a religious fanatic, but I do believe in faith,”

Rebecca continued softly. “You have a talent, Thomas, and you’re using

it. That’s a blessing.” She felt more tension draining slowly from him

as his hand relaxed into hers. “Do the Lackeys realize how lucky they

were that they have you as their doctor? Just think what might have

happened if you hadn’t been there.” Her voice gained momentum. “What if

we didn’t have an OB-GYN in Sugar Hill, or what if we had some old

geezer who didn’t keep up with the latest advances in medicine? Someone

who didn’t care? Then where would the town be?”

“I never thought about it like that.”

“Then think about it now.” Anger simmered below the surface of her

words. “Hannah’s a great family practitioner, but she’s not a

specialist, Thomas. Sugar Hill needs you.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands for a long moment that was

fraught with tension. The ticking of the antique cuckoo clock in the

background amplified the silence while the whisper of his breath

awakened instincts long dormant.

Then he shocked her by lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing his

lips to the tender surface.

Rebecca’s breath caught in her chest.

“You are such a sweetheart,” Thomas said. “I’ve never met anyone like

you, Rebecca.” He closed his eyes and brought their joined hands up to

his cheek, then leaned against them.

Rebecca ached for him. She forgot her shyness.

Her inhibitions. That this man was a part of some baby plan.

She simply wanted to hold him.

With a strangled sigh of his name, she gently touched his cheek, then

angled his face until he looked into her eyes. Their gazes locked for a

tender moment, then the anguish in his expression melted away and

something hot and primal replaced it.

He caught her face between his hands, lowered his mouth and kissed her.

Thomas had no idea what overcame him, except that possessing Rebecca,

even in some small way, drove him like a demon. She was the nicest, most

honest, most compassionate woman he’d ever known. She volunteered at the

church, organized a reading club to encourage kids, and her quiet

compassion allowed him to voice his most troubled thoughts.

He’d never tasted lips so sweet and gentle, or touched a woman’s cheek

that aroused him the way her soap-scented tender skin did.

He deepened the kiss, teasing her lips apart with his tongue until he

dove inside to explore the recesses of her mouth, just as he wanted to

explore her mind.

And her heart.

Beneath that lovely figure beat the heart of an angel.

And the womanly body of a temptress.

His hand trailed slowly down to trace a path along her jaw, grazed

across the slender column of her neck, stroked the curve of her shoulder

until he pulled her against him. He felt the small tremors in her body

as her breasts pushed into his chest. His heart racing, he tore his

mouth from hers to nibble at her ear, then

lower to the sensitive shell of her ear. And when he dipped below to her

neck and tasted the lavender there, she moaned softly and clung to his

arms. His other hand snaked into her hair and tugged at the gold clasp

binding it, and he dropped the clasp to the counter with a clatter. Her

nails dug into his arms as he threaded his fingers into the tangled

tresses and combed them down over her shoulders. He pushed the robe

gently aside so long, blond hair spilled onto bare shoulders.

Then he pulled back to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her vibrant

eyes alight with passion. The low moan that erupted from her parted lips

nearly tore him in two. The provocative hint of the forbidden shimmered

in the slight tremble of her body as his gaze devoured the tantalizing

sight of her bare shoulders.

He wanted more.

Wanted to lower that robe and taste the innocent erotic flesh below. To

strip her of everything and then let his skin slide across hers in a

sinful game of torture.

He had never felt this way about a woman before.

The power of the emotion shook him to the core.

“Thomas.” She murmured his name so softly it shouldn’t have stirred his

sex but it did, as if his body had its own mind and that mind longed to

be joined with hers.

But he couldn’t take her here.

Not out of some selfish need, when she’d only meant to offer him comfort.

The phone rang, saving him from speaking. She frowned and glanced at it

as if she didn’t know whether to answer it or not. He didn’t want her

to. He wanted to continue their lovemaking.

But he forced himself to be a gentleman. “Go ahead

and get it.”

She took another long hard look at him, the passionate glaze in her eyes

still burning, then slowly pulled her robe back over her shoulders and

picked up the phone.

“Hello, Suzanne.”

Her sister had saved him once again.

“You talked to Dad?” She paused and tucked a strand of that silky hair