Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (24 page)

Forget about the people and their feelings and wants…

Well, she’d fix him. She’d send that painting of him

lying naked in the lilies to the gallery. And she’d make certain the

gallery owner sent him the profits when it sold.

She certainly didn’t want it hanging around her house, reminding her of

their romance.

Their affair, rather.

Romance was meant for lovers, for people in love.

She was the only one who’d experienced the feeling. He’d simply been

using her.

And she was ready to be done with him.

Thomas rang the doorbell to Bert Hartwell’s home in Buckhead, awed at

the prestigious neighborhood and Georgian-style mansion. The interview

with the board members had gone as smooth as silk, and his tour of the

facility proved to be more astounding than he’d imagined. Bert had

already brought in some of the finest physicians in the country plus a

few European specialists who would add to the impressive staff. Bert had

also offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse.

His dreams were about to come true.

So why did it feel like such a hollow victory?

Because he had no one special to share the joy with.

Rebecca. He wanted her with him, wanted her to be proud of him and

excited and-

“Come in, sir.” A butler ushered him through a massive foyer to a formal

dining area where cocktails and hors d’oeuvres abounded. Servants roamed

the crowd offering drinks and fancy appetizers. An attractive woman who

looked to be in her midforties with a stylish chignon and enough jewels

glittering on her

fingers to nearly blind him, stood beside Bert. She must be the latest

Mrs. Bert Hartwell.

Two of the doctors at the fertility clinic spoke to him, then he

introduced himself to Irwin Jacobs, a specialist in the area of birth

defects. He’d heard the man had examined the Lackey baby.

“His prognosis is good now,” Jacobs said. “You made a good call in

transferring him to the neonatal unit here right away, Doctor.”

Thomas nodded as the man excused himself to get another drink.

“It’s nice to see you, Thomas.”

He nearly spilled the scotch on his suit when he glanced up to see Suzanne.

“So, are you impressed with my father’s party?”

“He certainly knows how to entertain.”

“Part of the job,” she said in a low voice, then gestured toward the

woman at Bert’s side. “But at least I can fade into the woodwork. I

think the new Mrs. Hartwell is going to be exactly what Dad wants.”

He raised an eyebrow at her cynical tone.

“A trophy wife,” Suzanne said matter-of-factly.

“You don’t think love is involved?”

“There hasn’t been with the others.” Suzanne wrapped her fingers around

the stem of a crystal champagne flute. “That’s why they never last.”

He sipped his drink, studying the crowd, the expensive furnishings, the

obvious appearance of success.

“Dad just wants someone to look good on his arm to impress investors and

his co-workers, someone who can serve and cater and help run the

charities and fund-raisers that help boost him to higher positions. I

fill in between wives.”

“You don’t like the hostess job?”

Suzanne shrugged. “I can handle it. But,” she gave him a wary glance,

“Rebecca, she’s a different story. She always hated these big parties.”

He dragged his gaze from the crowd to her, sensing that Suzanne had

issued a silent warning of some type.

Then she surprised him with directness. “Does she know you’re coming to

work with Dad?”

He swirled the glass around and watched the amber liquid splash over the

ice. “I’m going to talk to her about it when I return to Sugar Hill.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but her father suddenly

summoned her. “Don’t hurt her,” she whispered as she headed toward the

throng of men.

“I don’t intend to,” he said softly.

But he wasn’t sure Suzanne heard him. And if she had, the dark look she

tossed him over her shoulder implied she didn’t believe him.

Rebecca dragged herself home, struggling not to think about Thomas and

the fact that he was in Atlanta planning a new job and a new life

without her. And that at that moment he was probably having dinner with

her father and her sister.

Suzanne was probably charming the pants off him.

No…her sister wouldn’t do that, not when she knew Rebecca had

feelings for him.

Would she?

Jerry and Gertrude waved to her from their patio as she climbed the

stairs to her apartment. “Look!” Gertrude shouted, holding out her hand.

Something shiny glittered in the fading sunlight.

m

“Jerry proposed! We’re getting married!”

Rebecca gulped; that was fast.

Jerry shrugged and pulled Gertrude to him.

Gertrude looked so happy Rebecca waved and yelled, “Congratulations.

When’s the big day?”

“We’re not sure. We may run off to Reno one weekend,” Gertrude said over

the wind. “Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

Any proposal sounded romantic to her. “I’m so happy for you.” Rebecca

unlocked her door. “But if you decide to get married in Sugar Hill,

don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

Probably the only one she would be going to anytime soon, Rebecca

thought, as she rushed inside. She flipped on the light and walked

straight to her studio to box up that painting and mail it. The sooner

she rid herself of it the better.

Then she’d pack away that silly hope chest and her dreams of marriage

with it. Poor Grammy would be disappointed that this time the magic of

the hope chest hadn’t worked.

Thomas stopped to pick up a dozen roses for Rebecca and a bottle of

wine, hoping to mellow Rebecca for their talk. He should have told her

sooner about the job offer.

He just prayed she’d understand.

And that she’d consider coming with him.

If she didn’t…could he stay in Sugar Hill? Live in the small town and

practice medicine?

All the pros and cons warred with one another in his head as he drove

through the small town. The friends he’d made, the warmth of the people,

the content feeling that engulfed him when he saw his patients with

their new babies, the safe streets and countryside which would be

perfect for family life.

But the negatives echoed just as well-the lack of specialists, the

distance for emergencies, the limitations of the hospital. His vow to

his parents and the little baby brother he’d lost….

In Atlanta he could afford a big house with a yard, and could give his

child the best of everything. He and Rebecca could move into a nice

neighborhood in the suburbs with a pool and tennis courts, and Rebecca

could show her paintings. They could have it all. With her love of books

and art, she would make a great conversationalist at parties. Plus, her

volunteer work at the church and that reading club she’d started with

the kids at her bookstore could filter over to PTA events and their own

family. And her experience as a small-business owner would bring

practical advice to any committee she might want to chair.

If she chose not to serve on any of them or help with fund-raisers,

hell, he could hire an assistant to take care of those things.

Determined he’d ironed out the details for a smooth transition for both

of them, he parked his car, grabbed the flowers and wine and hurried up

the steps. He knocked and waited, his heart pounding.

He was so excited over his upcoming plans; Rebecca just had to agree.

Surely she wouldn’t think he was rushing things.

But she had told her grandmother she wasn’t getting married. Only, that

was before they’d gotten involved. Before she’d stolen his heart and

he’d taken her virginity.

Still, his hands shook as he pushed the doorbell again, and his pulse

clamored like a teenager’s asking for his first date.

Would Rebecca be shocked when he admitted he loved her? And what would

she say to his proposal?

Rebecca had just packed away the erotic poetry book, the bride’s book

and garter and closed the hope chest, shutting out her dreams of

marriage and babies, when the doorbell rang. Ten o’clock-who would be

visiting her now?

Thomas? No, he was probably spending the night in Atlanta. Her father’s

dinner parties usually ran late, and there were always drinks flowing

and laughter and lots of business acquaintances. Plus it had started to

rain, creating hazardous traffic conditions. She’d been listening to it

pound the roof for hours.

The chime sounded again, and she pulled her bathrobe around her and

forced her legs to move, when all she really wanted to do was collapse

on the bed with a good book and have another cry.

It was probably Gertrude and Jerry with more talk about their wedding

plans. She’d paste on a cheery face and be happy for them if it killed her.

But she opened the door and saw Thomas on the other side, rain sluicing

off him. His handsome face and smile sent a thunderous roar of pain

through her.

“Can I come in?” His hand snaked from behind his back to reveal a

bouquet of roses. “I missed you.”

Tears seemed to choke her throat, but she swallowed and accepted the

flowers, then moved aside. “They’re beautiful,”

She walked to the kitchen, grabbed a vase and put the flowers in water,

clipping the stems carefully, stalling as long as possible. At least

until she could string together a coherent sentence. He flipped the

kitchen towel off the counter and swiped at his damp hair and clothes.

She itched to take the towel and dry his face but gripped the vase,

resisting.

Finally she turned to him, unease rippling through her at the odd way he

was staring at her. But she sucked up her courage, determined not to

make a dramatic scene. She should have just told him goodbye the night

of Grammy’s party when she’d overheard his conversation with her dad.

“We have to talk, Rebecca.”

Here it comes. The flowers were obviously his way of easing into his

breakup speech.

He moved inside the kitchen, found the corkscrew she kept in the drawer

as if he was right at home, then opened the wine he’d brought and poured

them each a glass.

Wine to soften the blow….

Then he handed her one glass and gathered her free hand in his and led

her to the sofa. His dark eyes gleamed with emotions she didn’t

understand as he raked them over her. Then he urged her down beside him.

“I…I should have mentioned this before, but…” He took a sip of his

wine, suddenly looking nervous, so she sipped hers, then he set his

glass down, took

hers from her, and pulled both her hands in his. She’d never seen him so

nervous. “I went to Atlanta today. I wanted to talk to the board of the

new women’s medical center being set up there about working with them.

Have you heard of it?”

Rebecca nodded. She had to be brave. “I’ve heard my father mention it.”

Just like I heard you talk to him before you left.

“Of course.” He squeezed her hands, studying them for a few minutes, and

Rebecca’s heart melted. This would be the last time she would hold his

hand. Touch him.

“I met your father, the other directors of the board and some of the

physicians. It’s a remarkable facility and the possibilities for

advanced-medicine techniques are amazing.”

“I know, Dad’s very excited.”

“Anyway, I just don’t see the same opportunities for me here in Sugar Hill.”

Yeah, like more sophisticated women. “So you already accepted the job?”

He nodded. “I’m going to talk to Hannah about bringing another doctor

onboard immediately. Meanwhile I’ll come back once a week to see my

patients or, if they choose, they can drive to Atlanta. Otherwise, Dr.

Taylor in the next county will take on some patients, those Hannah might

not be able to handle.”

Rebecca pulled her hand from his. “I hope you’ll be happy there.”

His smile faded slightly, his forehead creasing. “It’s everything I’ve

ever wanted, Rebecca. I have to take this opportunity, but I want-“