Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (20 page)

Friday was Grammy’s party. The whole family would be together. She’d

decided to wear the violet dress she’d bought on the shopping trip with

her sister and cousins. Then she would surprise Thomas with a room at

the Honeysuckle Inn and they could have a romantic night together.

Nothing could go wrong now.

It had been the best and worst week of Thomas’s life.

Turmoil gripped him every time he thought of Rebecca. During the day

when he was immersed in work, he reminded himself to end their

relationship, to let her down gently, to break it off so he could move

to Atlanta and not hurt her.

Then she would walk into a room, and all that sweetness and bright

sunshine that surrounded her like a halo would burst into the dark

emptiness of his soul and his intentions evaporated like rainwater on

the hot pavement.

He would not only forget his intentions, hell, he’d take her in his arms

and make love to her until neither one of them could breathe.

He dropped his head in his hands and tried to gather his composure, then

took a deep breath and knocked on Sonya Farris’s hospital room door.

He’d just finished delivering twins at the hospital; he shouldn’t be

thinking about Rebecca. He should be thinking about work.

Her husband called, “Come in.”

He smiled as he entered. “How’s the new mother doing?”

“Great.” She looked exhausted but happy. Even when they’d resorted to

the emergency C-section, the thirty-year-old woman had been a trooper.

“I can’t wait to hold the babies again.”

Her husband looked worse than she did as he stood by her side. He stuck

out his hand. “I can’t thank you enough, Doc.” The man’s voice broke and

tears filled his eyes. “Me and Sonya wanted a baby forever. Now you give

us two.”

“Your wife did all the work,” Thomas said, touched by the man’s emotions.

Mr. Farris nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yeah, she’s amazing. But I was scared there, Doc, when things started

happening. If you hadn’t been there, things could have really gone wrong.”

Thomas shrugged off the praise. “I simply did what any doctor would do.”

“No, Doc, you’ve been more than a doctor. You’ve been a friend. You kept

us both going these past few months when we were worried the twins would

come early.” He cleared his throat as emotions gripped him again. “I

don’t think we could have survived without you.”

“I’m just grateful the babies are here and all right.” Thomas shook the

man’s hand again, then promised to check on her later, but his chest

ached as he left, and he contemplated the man’s words. The doctors

he’d met at the seminar claimed they barely knew their patients’ names.

Was he really making a difference here in this small town?

He enjoyed knowing his patients and their families and seeing the babies

he delivered later when he passed the young mothers on the street. Would

he miss that personal involvement when he worked at the Atlanta practice?

Rebecca’s face flashed into his mind. They were leaving for her

grandmother’s party tomorrow, and his interview was scheduled for next

week. He would find a way to tell her about his plans after the party.

An image of Rebecca lying in a hospital bed, hugging an infant to her

breast, singing the baby a lullaby, flashed into his mind, and his

breath left his lungs.

Once he left town, would Rebecca find someone else to fill her

evenings-and her bed? A man who would give her a baby and convince her

that marriage could work for her, even though her father’s hadn’t?

“Oh, my!” two of the elderly women from the church screeched as they

toddled across the bookstore. “We were in the doctor’s office yesterday

to see Hannah,” Myrtle Baker said, “and those murals you painted are

wonderful, Rebecca. Why didn’t you tell everyone you were so talented?”

“I…I don’t usually show my work to anyone,” Rebecca said, surprised by

their reactions.

“My daughter Wilamina’s having her first baby in the spring. Will you

paint something like that for her nursery?” Delores Coggins asked.

Rebecca shrugged. “Maybe.”

“How about some dancing kittens or dolls?” Delores waved a bejeweled

hand. “They know it’s goin’ to be a girl.”

“Lawdy-mae, things have sure changed haven’t they?” Myrtle exclaimed.

“People know the sex of their baby before it even gets here.”

Rebecca laughed and promised she would consider the commission work.

Oddly, the rest of the afternoon passed much the same. Word had spread

about her artwork, and half the town had come in to praise her. Trudy

Rodgers at the middle school invited her to talk to the schoolkids about

ideas for painting a mural on their cafeteria walls. And Lynette Porter

tried to enlist her to paint a backdrop for the local art theater’s

performance in the summer.

She couldn’t wait to tell Thomas. Thanks to him, she had never felt more

a part of the town.

On the way home, Thomas stopped by the clinic to check his messages. The

usual phone calls from two nervous expectant mothers claimed a few

minutes, then he checked his e-mail. A message from a sperm clinic in

Atlanta came up and he read it, his mind spinning.

It was obviously a reply to a request for information: Dear Ms. Rebecca

Hartwell, the information you requested is in the mail. Please let us

know if you’d like to schedule a conference to discuss our services.

Thomas pushed back the chair and stared at the message. Why had Rebecca

requested information about a sperm donor clinic? Was she planning to

use their services?

His heart pounded as he mentally reviewed their

conversation about single mothers. She had been suspiciously silent.

And she’d told her grandmother she was against marriage. In fact, not

once during the time they’d been together had she pushed for more

between them. She had come to him that night to sleep with him, had

claimed she didn’t expect promises.

A thought stunned him.

No.

Rebecca was sweet and loyal and had no secret agendas. She would never

use him to have a baby. Would she?

No, she was not like his mother….

Struggling with emotions he didn’t understand-anger, hurt, fear-he

printed the e-mail and stuffed it in his briefcase. He was a doctor; he

would not jump to conclusions. He would do the intelligent, mature thing

and calmly ask Rebecca about the note.

Surely she had some logical explanation.

Rebecca sensed something was wrong the minute Thomas walked into her

apartment. Even his kiss felt stiff as he greeted her. She had been

adding the finishing touches to the painting and quickly hid it so he

couldn’t see the work.

If he ever confessed his love for her, maybe she’d give it to him as a

surprise.

“Have you had dinner?” she asked.

He nodded. “I grabbed something at the hospital.”

She poured him a glass of wine and coaxed him to her sofa, then sat

beside him with her feet curled up beneath her. “What’s wrong, Thomas?

Did you have a problem delivery? Is the Lackey baby all right?”

His gaze rose to meet hers. “No, the Farris twins arrived fine. And the

Lackey baby is actually doing better.”

“That’s all good news, then.” So what had him so uptight?

She waited silently, her heart pounding in her chest. He rose, then

removed a sheet of paper from his briefcase. His expression was troubled

as he handed it to her, his eyes solemn.

“This came today.”

Rebecca took the paper and read it, a feeling of doom mushrooming in her

stomach. She hadn’t expected the clinic to reply by e-mail, just send

the information.

“What’s going on, Rebecca?”

Panic gripped her at the sound of his cool tone. She couldn’t lose

Thomas now, not when things were going so well between them. Not when

she loved him and had hoped he might be falling in love with her.

“Why are you checking out sperm donor clinics?”

“It…it’s for a friend.” Lord forgive her for the lie.

His eyes narrowed. “A friend?”

She nodded, half avoiding his gaze. “From the b-bookstore. She…she

asked me if I knew anything about the process.”

“Is this woman having trouble getting pregnant?”

“It’s an odd situation,” she said, drumming her nails on her leg. “But I

promised I’d keep our conversation confidential. I…shouldn’t have used

your computer at work, but one night I was there painting and saw those

books you have and remembered her questions so I…I just sent the e-mail.”

His troubled look faded slightly. “Well, if she asks

again, tell her to come and talk to me. I’ll be glad to advise her.”

Rebecca’s guilt mounted. She had never been dishonest in her life. Yet

she’d never had such high stakes that depended on her answer.

And she didn’t want to lose Thomas.

Thomas couldn’t explain the relief that washed over him at Rebecca’s

answer. He’d known she was too good, too honest to ever lie to him or do

something underhanded.

Not his sweet, loving Rebecca.

But for a minute he’d thought she had, and the pain had been excruciating.

Because he cared for her…really cared.

He cupped her face in his hands, memorizing each delicate feature. “You

are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” And she’d been a virgin.

His virgin.

Tears glittered in Rebecca’s eyes.

He kissed them away.

Then he slowly stripped her clothes and kissed every inch of her. And

when she cried out his name in ecstasy this time, the fear and pain he’d

experienced earlier faded, and he was almost certain that he’d fallen in

love.

Trouble was, what was he going to do about it?

In the early hours of morning, Thomas turned on his side and studied

Rebecca’s sweet sleeping form. She’d curled into him all night, and he’d

held her as if he could never let her go.

But he would have to soon.

Unless he could convince her to come with him

when he moved to Atlanta. But Rebecca loved Sugar Hill. Her family was

here, her friends, her store. Still, she had so much talent in her

artwork. Talent that she hadn’t revealed to the world.

Why?

Was she afraid people wouldn’t recognize the beauty in her work or

appreciate it? She was wrong. He’d already heard from patients and

Hannah that people loved the murals on the walls at the clinic. If they

saw some of her other paintings…

If she moved to Atlanta with him, she could open a studio. She wouldn’t

even need the bookstore.

He sat up slowly, unable to believe he was contemplating asking her to

move to Atlanta with him. But Rebecca had emerged from her shell lately.

She wasn’t the same shy, timid girl he’d first met. She was smart and

artistic, could discuss literature and music and would adjust to life in

the big city.

But what about his schedule?

She’d never complained when he’d been on call or had to leave for an

emergency. And she would have her art… If she would only show it, she

could probably turn her talent into a lucrative business.

An idea percolated in his head. He slipped out of bed and dressed, then

scribbled her a note saying he’d left for work, that he would pick her

up later tonight for the party. Then he tiptoed into her studio room,

studied the paintings and found one of the smaller ones she’d finished

of her grandmother’s tulip garden and carried it to his car. One of the

physicians he’d met at the seminar had connections to an art dealer in

Atlanta. He’d ask them to show the painting and see what happened.

When it sold, Rebecca would be so surprised….

Rebecca hurried into Mimi’s house, her nerves frayed. She was running

late, and Mimi had promised to fix her hair in a fancy twist with

ringlets around the edges to frame her face.

She was also still battling the guilt she felt over the lie she’d told

Thomas. What had happened to her these past few weeks?

She had never lied in her life.

Of course, she’d never been so bold as to go to a man’s house and seduce

him before, either. Maybe she should have chanced that Thomas would