Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (7 page)

Harold will realize his mistake and come home soon. He’ll be begging you

to take him back.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Maybe I won’t take him back this time.”

He stifled a comment; she and her husband split at least once a month.

Harold had almost missed the delivery, because they’d had a whopping

fight and he’d taken off to Ted’s Tavern and gotten drunk. Cabs took a

while to get from Atlanta to Sugar Hill.

“Maybe I’ll just find someone else.” Her tears dried, her eyes glinting

with what he knew could be trouble. He moved aside to escape her

clutches when a knock sounded at the door. Thankfully Hannah poked her

head in and he slid from Dorothy’s desperate grip.

“I…I was just leaving, Dr. Hartwell.” Dorothy pulled herself together

as Hannah and Mimi appeared in the doorway.

“Take care of that little one. I’ll see you next year.” At least, he

hoped she wouldn’t be back before her yearly exam. By then he would be gone.

Hannah raised a curious eyebrow, and Mimi giggled, “Got your hands

full?” Hannah asked.

“You could say that. Did someone spray pheromones in the air?”

Mimi laughed. “Now, there’s a thought.”

“Do you have a minute?” Hannah asked.

He nodded, although he’d planned to spend the next few minutes racking

his brain on some way to approach Rebecca about her father.

“When I moved into the practice,” Hannah said, “I didn’t have time to

finish all the renovations. The exam rooms really need painting.”

“I can’t argue with you there.”

“Mimi and I were talking, and she had a wonderful idea.”

He glanced at Mimi and the sleeping baby in her arms and smiled.

Motherhood hadn’t tamed the feisty redhead at all. In fact, she still

wore gutsy clothes and kept the town talking, but Mimi was impossible

not to like. “I’m all ears.”

“I think you should have some pretty murals painted on the walls.

Something calming to help patients relax.”

He nodded. “You know someone who does that kind of work?”

“Yes, I do. She painted the sweetest mural of dancing teddy bears on the

playroom wall for Maggie Rose.”

“She would be perfect,” Hannah said.

“All right, you sold me. I hope she’s local.”

“As a matter of fact she is,” Mimi said excitedly. “It’s our cousin

Rebecca.”

Thomas coughed. “Rebecca’s an artist?”

Mimi looked pleased with herself. “Yep.”

“She paints beautiful landscapes,” Hannah said.

“We think you should ask her,” Mimi added with a devilish glint in her eyes.

“You do?” Suspicion snaked in. “Why?”

“Because we’re related, and she never believes us when we brag about how

talented she is,” Mimi said. “But if someone else does, she might

believe it.”

He frowned, then wondered why he was even hesitating. This would be the

perfect opportunity for him to get to know Rebecca better, to probe her

about her father without being obvious about his intentions.

He’d be crazy not to jump at the chance they’d offered.

Maybe if she saw him at work, she’d realize he was basically a nice guy,

not some temperamental jerk, and give him a good recommendation to her

father.

Still, he’d have to walk a fine line. He couldn’t become too involved

with her. Friends, that’s all they would be.

“All right,” he agreed. “Maybe I’ll run over to the bookstore at lunch

and ask her.”

“Great.” Mimi lowered her voice. “Oh, but act like it was your idea. We

don’t want her to think we’re interfering with her business.”

“No,” Hannah agreed. “We wouldn’t want her to think that.”

He nodded, although he wasn’t quite sure they weren’t interfering. But

he had bigger things to worry about.

Like how Rebecca would react to his request. That is, if she didn’t run

the other way the minute she saw him.

Haunted by the erotic words and images of her grandmother’s poetry,

Rebecca found herself meandering over to the small erotica section she

housed in the far back corner and searching the titles and authors to

see if her grandmother had contributed to any other selections. An

artistic cover drew her eye, the colors a sultry hot pink and black, the

title Naughty-Rotica drawn in a pale-pink shade of lipstick. She had

just opened the book and skimmed the first entry, a very visual

portrayal of a heated kiss drawn out with simple yet eloquent words,

when someone cleared their throat behind her.

She turned, her jaw dropping open when she saw Thomas Emerson’s

intensely dark eyes fixed on her. His gaze lowered to the book in her

hand, and something hot and seductive rippled through her. It was almost

as if he had read the words on the page she’d been looking at and

whispered them in her ear.

Ridiculous.

Men like Thomas didn’t whisper naughty words or any kind of romanticisms

to bookish girls like her.

Maybe she should reconsider her neighbor Jerry Ruthers.

His big belly flashed into her mind, though, and she winced.

“I saw you this morning when I drove past.”

The sentence lingered in the strained silence between them. She could

have just died.

Finally he saved her from her embarrassment. “I waved but I guess you

didn’t see me.”

She could not even reply to that. “You…uh, received my message about

the insurance?”

“Yes, I spoke with my agent, also. We’ll work out the details.”

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

He shrugged. “It was an accident. It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“No, of course not.”

Another strained silence fell between them. She didn’t even try to fill

the dead air for fear of stuttering. His gaze shifted to the book again,

and she realized she had a death grip on it, so she shoved it back on

the shelf. What in heaven’s name was she doing?

“S-someone called in and as-sked about that book.” She swung into motion

and walked toward the phone at the front register. “I’ll have to call

them and let them know we have it in.” Dear lord, please let him believe

that.

The corner of his sexy mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. She cursed

herself for noticing. “Did you n-need something? A book maybe?”

He shook his head. “Not a book. I need you, Rebecca.”

She nearly tripped over a dump of paperbacks, a recent novelty called

Dating Disasters that had climbed all the lists. They could have used

her picture on the cover.

She took refuge behind the front desk, holding on to the laminated

counter lest she completely lose her ability to stand. For pity’s sake,

that was what Thomas Emerson did to her.

“What did you say?”

Broad shoulders stretched against his crisp white shirt as he leaned on

the counter to face her. “I said I need you.”

I need you, too. At least your little swimmers…. “Wh-why?”

The corner of his mouth twitched again. If she hadn’t known better,

she’d have thought he was flirting with her. How silly could she be?

“Hannah and I discussed fixing up the clinic. The exam rooms need

painting, and I have it on good authority that you’re a damn fine artist.”

“Oh.” Of course he hadn’t meant he needed her. He had his choice of

women. “Who told you I was an artist?”

“I’m a doctor, I treat half the town. They talk.”

Rebecca swallowed. “But I don’t make it a habit of sh-showing my work. I

really just paint for m-me.”

His big hand reached over and slid on top of hers. The contact felt

warm, comforting, yet it didn’t comfort her at all. It aroused images of

Thomas touching her. In places that she’d never allowed a man to touch

her. In ways she’d seen sketched in that erotic book her Grammy had

given her but had never experienced herself.

Except in her fantasies in the dark of night when she was alone.

“I can’t.” She shook off the disturbing images and pulled away, then

began stacking new books that had arrived and needed shelving. Anything

to keep her hands and mind occupied so they wouldn’t stray into the

danger zone.