Looking for Love (Boxed set) (79 page)

Shelly nodded, hugging her daughter to her side, oblivious to the tension between Abby and Hunter.

"We gots to come get Snarts," Lizzie said to her dad. "He's playing with Butterballs."

"We'll stop by now, if that's okay with Abby."

Abby steeled herself against him and nodded. "I'll meet you there." Hunter and Shelly said good-bye, and Abby fled to her car, needing to escape the suffocating closeness of being near Hunter. Of remembering how heavenly it felt to be in his arms. Of the pain of his betrayal.

A few minutes later, Hunter and Lizzie pulled into the driveway behind her. Lizzie ran around to the backyard, where they had left the puppies, while Hunter followed Abby inside.

"Abby, can we talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Har... Hunter."

He flinched but she forced herself not to care.

"I really do care about you, Abby—"

"Care?" She whirled on him. "The only thing you care about is your story."

"Abby, wait, that's not true; I love you—"

"You cared so much you didn't even bother to call."

"I wanted to but I was detained."

"Another story, I'm sure. Who were you chasing this time?"

"It wasn't like that, dammit.... I got arrested. I spent the freakin' night in jail because I was in the HOV lane—"

"They don't put people in jail for driving in the HOV lane."

"I know." He rubbed a hand through his hair, spiking it. "But the policeman said I tried to bribe him—"

"Oh, please." Abby crossed her arms. "No more lies or stories, Hunter. Just take Lizzie and your dog and go. I may have been naive and trusting once, looking at life through rose-colored glasses, but no more."

Lizzie dragged the mutt in and Hunter started to say something else, but Abby cut him off with a lethal glare. He bit his tongue, refusing to argue in front of Lizzie and upset her again.

" 'Bye, sweetheart," Abby whispered. "You take care of Snarts, okay?"

" 'Kay, and I'll bring him back to play with Butterballs."

Abby smiled tightly, her gaze meeting Hunter's over Lizzie's shoulder. They both knew that was not going to happen. Then she hugged Lizzie and Angelica for what she knew would be the very last time.

Chapter 27

Rekindling the Romantic Flame

"Is Dr. Abby mad at you?"

A mild understatement. Try hate.
"What makes you think she's mad?" Hunter steered the car toward his apartment.

" 'Cause she didn't smile and hugs you like 'afore. And her face gots all red and her eyes pointy when she looked at you."

Very observant.
"Well, honey, she's mad because I wrote some articles about her that weren't really... nice."

"You was mean to Dr. Abby?"

"I... I wrote them before I knew her." Her glare scorched him. "Which goes to show you that you shouldn't talk about people before you really get to know them."

"Can't you say you're sorry?"

"I already did." A truck pulled in front of him and Hunter resisted the urge to swear. "But she's still mad."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't tell her truth about who I was."

Lizzie hugged Snarts in her lap while Angelica sat strapped in beside her. "But you said it was okay to lie when you was acting."

She wouldn't let up. "I know, but I was wrong." Finding out a parent made mistakes wouldn't traumatize Lizzie forever, would it? "Lying and keeping secrets from people you love usually hurts them." He placed his hand over hers and patted it. "So if something's bothering you, honey, you can always come to me. You don't have to keep secrets or lie to me if there's a problem."

She tipped her head sideways, her tiny nose scrunched. "So you won't lie no more?"

"No, I won't lie no more. I mean anymore."

"Does that mean I have to tell Snarts he's ugly?" She covered the dog's ears with her hands so he couldn't hear. " 'Cause he kinda is but I loves him anyway. And I don't wanna hurt his feelings."

Boy, that was a tough one. Hunter coasted onto the freeway, the afternoon sun nearly blinding him as he crept through the thick traffic. "No, you don't need to tell him he's ugly. And you're correct: it's not right to hurt someone's feelings."

She scrunched her nose again, looking more confused than ever. "Then I have to tell him he's pretty?"

"You could just tell him he's beautiful because you love him." The way Abby had gotten more beautiful the better he'd gotten to know her. "Or you could not mention his looks; just tell him you love him."

Lizzie took her hands away from Snarts's ears. "You hear that, buddy? I loves you."

The dog merely grunted.

"I loves you, too, Daddy. And I loves Mommy. And I loves Dr. Abby."

"So do I," Hunter admitted.

"You wants to kiss her again, huh?"

Hunter sighed wistfully. "That would be nice."

Lizzie kicked her feet against the seat. "Then you gots to get her back."

Hunter mentally groaned and cut across the lane to the exit for his apartment. "Got any ideas?"

Lizzie thumped her legs up and down, then leaned over to consult Angelica, whispering back and forth. "Well," she said finally, "Mama likes Daryl 'cause he gives her flowers. And he takes her places." She hesitated. "And he readed her rhymes."

"Rhymes?" Hunter frowned. "Oh, you mean poetry?" So Daryl was romantic.

Once Abby had said he was, but he had let her down. If he had the chance to start over, he would make sure he did things differently.

He'd be romantic, even if it killed him.

* * *

The next four days passed for Abby in a blur of misery. She waded through the hours at work, seeing patients, and was relieved that her clients had been understanding. In fact, they had been more supportive than she could ever have imagined. So at least she still had her job.

By the time Friday came, exhaustion pulled at her. Thoughts of Hunter were also wearing on her nerves.

Every day she had received some kind of romantic gesture, as if he thought mushy cards, flowers and Godiva chocolates could soften her.

Good thing he hadn't sent Reese's cups.

She unwrapped a truffle anyway, reminding herself not to grow too accustomed to the expensive candy, since she couldn't afford it money-wise or calorie-wise, on a regular basis. The doorbell rang, and she peered outside warily, not surprised to find another gift on the stoop. Mixed emotions flooded her when she looked up and saw Hunter's Explorer coasting down the road away from the house. Wondering what he had sent this time, she opened the box and laughed.

A double pack of granny-panty underwear and five bags of Reese's cups. She opened the card.
I love you, Abby. Hope these fit.

She struggled over the anger and bittersweet memories. Didn't Hunter realize a reconciliation could never work? The trust was gone; too many hurt feelings lay between them.

Flopping back on the sofa, she noticed her message light blinking like a neon sign; she punched the button and listened.

Uncle Wilbur still wanted money for his business.

Her mother had changed her mind about the coffeehouse and now wanted money for a make-your-own-stuffed-animal shop.

Her father needed money for clothes so he could job-hunt.

The last message was from Hunter.

She closed her eyes as his gruff voice reverberated over the line. "Abby, please, just meet me for a drink. I really want to make things up to you." A pause. "I know I hurt you, but I really do love you. Just give me a chance. Give
us
a chance."

Yeah, right, a chance to add more details to his article.
The police had phoned to tell her they'd arrested Lenny, and he'd claimed he'd given the pictures to Hunter. Every day she'd searched the paper, expecting to see the article about her. And every time she'd gone to the grocery store, she'd expected to see herself naked in some compromising positions on the front of the tabloids or on some porn Internet site.

It was just a matter of time.

She shut off the machine, fighting another onslaught of tears. She couldn't speak to him yet, but she could talk to her family. Any therapist would conclude that she'd enabled her family to be dependent on her. She had constantly backed her mother's whims, hoping one day she'd find something she enjoyed; then she'd settle down and be a real mother to all three girls, the kind of mother the girls had needed growing up. But that was never going to happen. Abby had to accept her mother the way she was and love her anyway.

But the time had come for all her needy relatives to fly the coop; her role as caretaker was finished.

Her uncle sputtered with disbelief when she broke the news.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Wilbur, but I have to take care of myself for a while." She hung up and phoned her mother before he could reply.

"But honey, this shop will draw tourists like crazy," her mother argued.

And she'd be crazy to keep supporting her mother's ventures. "I'm sorry, Mom, but you and Dad are grown now. It's time you took care of yourselves. The Bank of Abby is closed."

Her father had left the number for a boardinghouse, so she simply left a message.

No sooner had she hung up than the doorbell rang. Surely the three of them couldn't have driven over so quickly.

Praying it wasn't Hunter, she checked the peephole and spotted her sisters and Granny Pearl on her doorstep. Did they need something now?

She felt as drained as a dish rag.

Still, she invited them in. "Listen, you guys, if you need something—"

"Mercy no," Granny Pearl said. "Honey-child, I know you're always taking care of everyone else, but this time we're here to take care of you. I feel like this is partly my fault anyway."

"Your fault?"

Gran clacked her teeth. "Why, yes, I always wondered if that Gulliver guy didn't butter his bread on the other side, but I just hated to say anything. You can't be sure these days."

Oh, now she felt better. Her eighty-year-old grandmother had suspected Lenny was gay, and she hadn't had a clue.

"Here. This is from all of us." Chelsea handed her an envelope, and Abby eyed the strips of hairless flesh on Chelsea's arm.

"I'm auditioning for a commercial advertising this homemade wax kit," Chelsea explained. "They really do work, but
ouch."

Abby winced and vetoed the idea of buying one for herself.

"We thought you might like a little R-and-R by yourself," Granny Pearl said as Abby opened the envelope. "We all chipped in."

Abby glanced at Chelsea. "You didn't earn the money stripping again, did you?"

"Stripping?" Granny Pearl asked.

"It's a long story, Gran. I'll tell you later." Chelsea blushed. "And no, I returned some shoes. Who needs genuine imported snakeskin boots anyway?"

Everyone laughed and Abby stared at the envelope. It would be nice to get away from her problems. The phone. The bed she had slept in with Hunter.

"Have you talked to him yet?" Victoria asked, as if she'd read Abby's mind.

"No, and I don't want to. He'd probably make up another excuse the way he did about that HOV lane."

Victoria winced. "He didn't exactly make that up."

"What do you mean?"

Victoria shrugged. "I sort of asked my friend for a favor—"

"Suarez?"

Victoria nodded sheepishly.

"You didn't!" Chelsea exclaimed.

"I wish I could have seen him in jail," Abby said.

Granny Pearl hooked her arm through Abby's. "Come on; we'll help you pack." She handed Abby a bag. "Here's a little something I picked up at that gift shop with Lulu. You might need it if there aren't any hunky eligible men where you're going." She leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. "And by the way, hon, the batteries are already included. I bought two sets, just in case...."

* * *

"Hunter, where in the hell is that piece on the Jensen woman?"

Hunter held the phone away from his ear at his boss's loud bellow. "It'll be there for the Sunday edition."

"Good. It's taken you long enough."

"That's because I want it to be right." The very reason he hadn't written it. He knew his boss expected him to write in the same vein as his original pieces, but he couldn't bring himself to slander Abby.

He flexed his fingers, his mind searching for the perfect angle. His conversation with Lizzie echoed in his head. The fuzzy outline of an article began to emerge, the headline clear:
You Can't Judge a Book by Its Cover: Who Is the Real Dr. Abby Jensen?

Two hours later, he printed the piece and skimmed it, smiling to himself as he stood and stretched. He had to show it to Abby before he turned it in.

Lizzie strolled in barefoot, a bow taped to Snarts's head. "Now he really is pretty, Daddy."

Hunter laughed. "Come on, kiddo; let's take a ride."

"Can Snarts come?"

Hunter glanced at the sorry excuse for a dog with the makeshift bow. "Sure." He could use all the help he could get. Maybe Snarts could play on Abby's tender side.

He grabbed the envelope with the photos of Abby inside, along with his keys, and they headed to the door. Maybe after Abby read the article, he could drop Lizzie at her spend-the-night party; then he could convince Abby to have dinner with him.