Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (15 page)

clinic and other details of their medical practices. Thomas reminded her

of her father in so many ways, his intellect, his vocation, even his

work schedule.

“Graduated from Emory University, huh?” Bert asked, sipping his coffee.

“Yes, sir. I finished a residency at Harvard a couple of years ago.”

“Did you hear that, Suzanne?” Bert curved an arm around her shoulders.

“This guy is on the ball.”

“I know, Dad,” Suzanne said, grinning. “Quite impressive.”

“Suzanne’s on the move herself,” Bert bragged. “She attended Georgia

State and works in one of the largest land development firms in Atlanta.

She’s really going places.”

Rebecca edged back more in her seat. She was content with her job, so

why did her father’s constant praise of her sister make her feel as if

she was a failure in his eyes?

For the next twenty minutes, Thomas listened to Bert sing Suzanne’s

praises, both professionally and

personally. Not only was she successful, but when Bert was between

wives, she played hostess to his fund-raisers and hospital benefits.

Not once did he mention Rebecca. Why?

Even more disturbing, Rebecca shrank deeper into the wooden chair,

becoming more and more invisible as the conversation progressed.

His irritation mounted when Bert practically suggested that he and

Suzanne should get together.

“Did Rebecca tell you we’ve commissioned her to do some artwork for the

clinic?” Thomas asked, changing the subject. He had no intention of

dating Suzanne after kissing Rebecca. But he didn’t want to turn off

Bert Hartwell, either.

Maybe this premeeting hadn’t been such a good idea.

“No,” Bert said. “Is she donating a painting to the clinic?”

“No, she’s designing murals for all the exam rooms. But she should be

showing her artwork. I bet the galleries in Atlanta would love to

feature her work.”

Rebecca nearly choked on her coffee. “I…don’t think so.”

“She’s very talented.” Thomas reached out and stroked her arm. “But I’m

sure you’re already aware of her artistic abilities.”

Bert shifted so the wooden chair squeaked beneath him. “Well, yes, of

course.” Frowning, he checked his watch and pushed his chair back. “Look

at the time. I really have to be going. I have a board meeting this

afternoon. Full schedule…you know how that is, Dr. Emerson.”

“Certainly. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Bert stood and draped his arm around Suzanne. “Ready, honey?”

“Sure, Dad. Whenever you are.”

Bert shook Thomas’s hand. “Maybe we could talk some more later.” He

scratched his chin. “Hey, why don’t you come to the party next week?

It’ll be nice to have a colleague there. Be a good buffer between me and

my brother.”

Thomas fought a frown. Bert had extended an invitation to get to know

him better, yet he’d shrugged off Rebecca’s talent as if it were

unimportant. Still, he couldn’t refuse Bert’s offer. “Thank you, sir.

I’d be honored to be your guest.”

Did Bert have another agenda in mind? Like pushing his youngest daughter

toward him again? And why had he totally neglected the praise he should

have given Rebecca?

Rebecca caught him before he left. “Thomas, that was really polite of

you to accept my dad’s invitation, but you don’t have to attend the

party. It’ll just be a boring family affair.”

Guilt mushroomed in his stomach. “That’s okay, I don’t mind. That is,

unless you don’t want me to go.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that.” She gestured awkwardly with her hands. “But I

don’t want you to feel indebted.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Rebecca. I’m looking forward

to the party. It’s always nice to network with other professionals.”

He hurried out the door then, before he revealed his

true motive. But oddly he realized he’d meant what he’d told Rebecca-he

was looking forward to the party.

Because he’d get to spend more time with her.

Later that afternoon, just before Rebecca left work, Suzanne phoned.

“Uh-oh, there isn’t a problem with Dad, is there?” Rebecca asked. “Did

he change his mind about Grammy’s party?”

“No. Of course, he mouthed off about Uncle Wiley all the way to Atlanta,

but he promised not to back out…. So, sis, tell me what’s going on

between you and that hunky doctor.”

Rebecca sighed and closed her eyes, willing it to be more than her

imagination. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Suzanne’s laughter erupted. “You’re kidding. That guy is

totally hot for you.”

“What?” Rebecca’s eyes popped open.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t notice? You can’t be that blind, Bee.”

“You’re wrong, Suzanne. Thomas is simply nice to everyone.”

“Ha! I’m not wrong. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.” Suzanne whistled

low. “And the way he bragged about your art, good gracious, I thought he

was going to offer to be your agent and sell your work himself.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” No, he was not that enthusiastic. “He was just

being nice.”

“You are so naive, Bee,” Suzanne said. “He was not just being nice. Now,

what’s your plan?”

“Plan?”

“Yeah, has he asked you out yet?”

“No. Well, we had dinner, but that was business.”

“Right.” Another peal of laughter. “Listen, just play it cool. Lead him

on a little. And be sure to wear that sexy new underwear. If you feel

sexy, you’ll be sexier.”

Rebecca shook her head and hung up a minute later, certain Suzanne was

mistaken. Thomas was not enamored with her. In fact, as soon as everyone

else had left, he’d run off, too.

Still, his compliments had boosted her ego. Maybe she’d drop by and

start that art project tonight. Maybe she’d even go early and run into him.

She rummaged through her lingerie drawer-where had she put those black

lace panties?

Thomas LEFT the clinic as early as possible. He wanted to check on the

Lackey baby in person, so he’d driven to Atlanta and met with the doctors.

Hell, who was he kidding? He had wanted to avoid running into Rebecca.

Dammit, he’d acted like a fool today at lunch. Jumping to her defense,

bragging about her artwork, looking at her all goo-goo-eyed. What had

happened to him?

One minute Bert had been pushing Suzanne toward him, the next Thomas had

lost his tongue and gushed about her sister. But his temper had flared

with Bert….

That emotional outburst disturbed him the most. Why the hell should he

care about Bert’s relationship with his daughters or how much praise the

man gave Rebecca?

Because he was beginning to care for her himself.

No, he couldn’t….

Frustrated, he left the Atlanta hospital, veered onto the expressway and

wound through the traffic until he reached the new women’s center in the

heart of Buck-head. It was almost New Year’s Eve and, barring emergency

deliveries, he had the next four days off. He’d signed up for a seminar

on fertility treatments at Emory University and would be in Atlanta the

next two days. He’d return to Sugar Hill for New Year’s Eve.

He parked the car and stared up at the multidimensional complex, at the

modern structure and the assorted attached buildings. The architecture

was as modern and cutting edge as the research and work conducted inside.

He wanted to be a part of the medical community of Atlanta, here in the

heart of this fast-growing city with its high-rises and emergency units

and the latest equipment and technology.

So unlike the sleepy backward town of Sugar Hill. Except for Rebecca…

No, her clothes, art, everything about her embodied family and

tradition, while his job relied on future technology, not sentiment and

emotion. In fact, too much emotion could handicap him in an emergency,

the very reason he had to remain compassionate but somewhat detached.

No, he couldn’t give up his dreams.

Especially for a case of simple lust….

Two local teenagers helped Gertrude with the inventory in the bookstore,

giving Rebecca extra time to work on the murals. Hannah had taken a few

days off for the holidays and was only accepting emergency calls, but

she had opened the clinic each morning. Apparently, Thomas was in

Atlanta attending a medical seminar.

That night after she’d seen Thomas at the cafe with her father, Rebecca

had hoped to see him at the clinic. When he hadn’t shown up, she’d

wondered if he’d been avoiding her. Now, she was almost certain he’d

given her the brush-off.

Thomas didn’t owe her anything. Just because he’d kissed her once or

twice, she couldn’t let it go to her head.

She finished the last touches on the jungle scene, stood back and

admired the bright colors of the parrots and wild animals, pleased with

the way the piece had turned out. The first day, she’d painted a

dinosaur diorama. She’d kept it so simple with bold colors and lines,

she’d finished it in one day. Tomorrow she would add some color to the

foliage in the jungle

scene, detail the tiger’s stripes and face, and finish the giraffe. If

she arrived early, she could complete it by late afternoon, then head to

the festivities at her uncle Wiley’s used-car lot and the picnic at the

park. That is, if the winter storm didn’t blow in and cancel the

celebration.

If she had nothing better to do later on in the evening, she would

return and work some more. Anything to avoid New Year’s Eve with her

big-bellied neighbor, Jerry Ruthers.

What would Thomas be doing tomorrow night? Was he staying in Atlanta?

Would he be sharing a New Year’s Eve kiss with some woman there?

Pushing aside the disturbing thought, she cleaned up her art supplies,

then couldn’t resist. She’d seen several books on pregnancy and in vitro

fertilization and decided to explore them. Drying her hands on a paper

towel, she pulled The Pregnancy Bible off the shelf, sat down and began

to read.

Thomas was exhilarated by the pool of knowledge, the innovative

techniques and the level of expertise of the other attendees as well as

the speakers at the seminar. The plans for cutting-edge research with

high-risk deliveries and birth defects was phenomenal, and the genetic

engineering and fertility treatments that had only been a pipe dream ten

years before were now being explored and implemented.

He hailed a cab to a local lounge to join a few of the other attendees,

doctors from all over the country, for drinks and conversation. The

smoke-filled bar was packed with the happy-hour crowd, people enjoying

time off for holidays and, from the looks of the mix, the singles set.

He had forgotten the difficulty of finding a companion in the crowds,

and the taxing ordeal of the meat-market scene.

He wove through the throng until he spotted the group of men and women

from the seminar and ordered a scotch. Shawnee Blake, a fertility

specialist from Savannah, brushed his arm as he moved into the crowded

corner. Attractive, with medium-length auburn hair and a nice smile, she

started the conversation ball with chitchat. The usual info, Where are

you from? What’s your specialty? etcetera, drifted into a discussion of

small-town medicine versus metropolitan life, and horror stories of a

few bungled cases in the rural parts of Georgia that made his skin crawl

and cemented his decision not to have a child unless he lived near a

modern facility. The discussion finally turned to personal lives. “I’ve

been married twice,” Devon Rourke, the young surgeon, stated. “With my

schedule, I decided not to go that route again.”

“I know what you mean,” Rob Wheeler, a cardiologist from Charleston

commented. “I’ve tried a couple of long-term relationships, but sooner

or later the women get fed up with my schedule.”

“Being single is more fun anyway,” Devon commented.

“How about you, Shawnee?” Rob asked.

She shrugged, lifting her drink for a toast. “I’ve been swamped with my

residency and then research.” She gave Thomas a sideways grin, hinting

at her attraction. “For now I just want to have a good time.”

The men clinked their glasses with hers, toasting the single life.