Doctor, Darling

He approached the long table in a circuitous route, passing Fiction G–J on his right and a magazine display rack on his left. Just as he was about to leave his cover, he heard the blonde say, “Did any of you get a good look?”

“I did.” The woman he recognized from that very first doorway leaned in, putting both elbows on the table. “He’s a looker, that’s for sure. Dark hair, wide shoulders. A good mouth, too. Strong teeth. And a doctor to boot.”

“But what about the rest of him?” the blonde asked.

“If you’re talking about his hind end, Shirley, that was mighty fine, too.”

Conner blushed. He knew they were talking about him, and it made him damned uncomfortable. It could have been worse, he supposed. The woman could have said he was as ugly as sin with the hind end of a donkey. Even so, he felt embarrassed. He usually didn’t mind being the center of attention, but this…this was so peculiar he didn’t know what to make of it. Well, at least he knew who Gillian Bates was.

His gaze went back to the redhead. She was fishing for something in her purse, which was remarkably large. After a moment, she pulled out a magazine. Cat Fancy. That was okay. He liked cats. No allergies.

Her hand went back into the bag and this time she brought out a little blue bottle. He’d seen one like it before. It was a marker, the kind used at bingo games. Still, no problem. Bingo was fine by him. It was probably real popular in this neck of the woods.

On the third foray, she brought out something small—a book of matches. Fascinated, he watched as she flipped it open, brought it to her mouth and started cleaning her teeth.

He winced. It wasn’t a pleasant sight although no one else at the table seemed to mind. And it really wasn’t a big deal. So she had a quirk. It wasn’t as if he had to marry her or anything. Just a couple of dates, which he’d end early, and then that was that. He’d go on his merry way and then sue the pants off Judge Larson. That made him feel better.

After running a hand through his hair, he stepped out into the reading area, heading straight for Gillian Bates. He knew they’d spotted him when all conversation came to a jarring halt. Seven pairs of eyes latched onto him, including Gillian’s. Her right brow went up as she looked him over from head to toe and then back again. She didn’t seem displeased, but then she wasn’t pumping her arm and shouting “Yes!” either.

He reached the table. The scent of aftershave and bourbon hit him squarely. One of the men, the one wearing the blue suspenders, snorted.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Conner said. “But I saw you were all reading Smilla’s Sense of Snow and I wondered if I might join you?”

“Don’t see why not,” Suspenders said. “Group’s open to the public. Pull up a chair.”

He did, making sure to smile and act harmless, choosing the chair next to Gillian’s. He gave her a friendly nod. “Thank you.”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Suit yourself.” Then she went back to using the matchbook as a toothpick.

“I’m Conner Malloy,” he said, facing her, although he looked at the others briefly. “I’m new here. Just visiting for a week or so.”

“Yeah?” Gillian asked. He supposed she could sound less interested, but he couldn’t see how.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve come on a research trip. Your Mr. Johnson has some medical antiques that have captured my interest.”

“Why? You like to operate with old tools?”

He broadened his grin. “No. But I am interested in medical history. I’m writing a book about it.”

“Where are you from, Dr. Malloy?” the blonde asked, her fingers still flying.

As if she didn’t know. “Houston.”

“Y’all are just in time for the big parade next Sunday.”

“Parade?”

“Haven’t you heard?” she asked, her gaze on her knitting. “Gillian Bates saved a little boy’s life just last week. He was chokin’ and she just squeezed him and he spit the toy truck right on out. The boy was blue, they say. Two hairs from gone over.”

“That’s very impressive,” he said, nodding again at Gillian. “That Heimlich maneuver can be tricky. I’m glad to know it worked out so well.”

“Yep,” the blonde said. “She’s a real live heroine, and we’re givin’ her a dinner dance and a parade to mark it.”

“Sounds exciting,” he said. “Like something I shouldn’t miss.”

Gillian looked at him funny as he leaned in toward her.

“Of course I don’t know anyone here,” he said, trying not to scare her. “But maybe you don’t have an escort yet?”

Her eyes practically popped out of her head. “Me?”

He nodded. “I noticed you like bingo,” he said, racking his brain for something logical to say. “And cats.”

“That I do,” she said, and he thought she might be smiling, but he couldn’t be sure.

“I admire cats,” he said. “And I used to play bingo when I was at summer camp.”

“I see,” she said. “So that’s why you want to take me to the dinner dance?”

His own smile faltered a little. “Well, sure. Why not?”

“Uh, Doc,” the blonde said, her smile wide enough to show her dental work, “you—”

“Hush up, Shirley. I’m trying to think.”

“But—”

“Shhh,” Suspenders hissed. He was grinning, too.

Gillian looked around the table, then back at him. “Why not, Doc? I don’t have any prior commitments.”

He sighed his relief. One down, and now he didn’t even have to take her out on a date first. With any luck, he wouldn’t even have to see her until the dance.

Gillian looked up, past his head, to something behind him. He turned to face a beautiful young woman. She had long blond hair, big blue eyes that gleamed with humor, and a lovely pink mouth turned up into a bright smile.

“Hello,” he said as his gaze moved down in a quick once-over. The rest of her was as attractive as her face.

“Hello,” she said in a voice that made him think of spun sugar.

“This here’s Doc Malloy,” the blonde said. “He’s coming to the dinner dance.”

“So I heard,” the woman said. “That’s lovely.”

“He’s my date,” Gillian announced.

“I heard that, too. That’s wonderful. I know you’ll both have a terrific time.” Then she held her hand out to him, and he saw her fingernails were painted pink. “I’m Gillian Bates,” she said.

Chapter Four

Gillian kept smiling at the doctor even though he stared at her with a baffling look of utter dismay. Of course, she was surprised that he’d asked Helen Kane to the dinner dance, but who was she to judge a man’s taste?

She pulled out the chair next to Conner Malloy and sat down to begin the evening’s chat, but her concentration wasn’t on her book. Not only was she still disquieted by the good doctor’s expression, but also by the good doctor himself. When Felicia had said he was nice-looking, Gillian hadn’t taken her very seriously. Felicia had some odd ideas of handsome. But this time, she’d hit the nail on the head. He was gorgeous. Wonderfully expressive eyes, thick dark hair, great cheekbones. She wished she could see him smile.

Really, it was so peculiar. His asking Helen to the dance. Not that she didn’t like Helen, but the woman was in her early fifties, and the doctor looked like he was in his early thirties. But it was none of her business. She turned to the group. “So, what did everybody think of Smilla?”

No one answered her, which was highly unusual. The participants in her readers’ group were nothing if not opinionated. She often thought the session should be called Arguments Are Us and be done with it. On the other hand, the books they’d read had been illuminating and wonderful. Sometimes disturbing and sometimes funny. It was worth the disagreements.

“I liked it,” Henry Fraley finally stated. He pushed his thumbs behind his suspenders and stretched them out. “I thought it was real interesting. The stuff about the Inuits and all that.”

“Good, Henry,” she said, then turned to Shirley. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Shirley said, her eyes on her knitting. “She wasn’t very nice, was she? I mean, she could be awful mean when she wanted to. I didn’t like her at all.”

That opened the floodgates, and everyone jumped into the fray. Even Helen, who usually categorically dismissed anything that wasn’t by Danielle Steele, joined in. But Gillian didn’t really listen. Her focus had turned back to Dr. Malloy.

He stared at her unabashedly. No disguise, no pretense. Just a thorough appraisal that made her wish she’d done more with her hair and that she’d worn makeup. But she lost her self-consciousness as she did her own assessment.

He’d come to look at medical antiques, that much she knew. But now he’d decided to stay on. Why? Did he know Helen from somewhere else? Perhaps they had a mutual friend? She needed to understand. Why would a man like him want to stay in a town like this even a day longer than necessary? Why had he joined their little readers’ group? And why he was looking at her with such…such…hunger?

She felt her cheeks heat a bit, and it occurred to her that it had been years since she’d blushed. Nothing embarrassed her anymore, it seemed. Not even the incessant matchmaking that had plagued her since the day she’d arrived in town.

Yet his unwavering dark eyes made her flush with heat. She squirmed a little on her chair, glanced away, then met his gaze once more. Those eyes. They looked at her as no one had before. Ever. With curiosity, with interest, but more than that, with wonder. As if he’d seen something he’d been searching for but never expected to find.

It made her think of the time when she’d been a young girl in her early teens, on the verge of becoming a woman. Walking in her skimpy bathing suit at Venice Beach, watching the boys watching her. Sensing her own power even though she hardly knew what to do with it. It had been heady and glorious, but scary, too.

That’s how she felt now. Glorious and scared. Afraid to move, afraid to stay. Those eyes of his, with those long lashes, and the way they seemed to look inside her. He surely could see her loneliness. Her determination. The scars around her heart.

“Gillian?”

She heard her name as if in a dream, then realized it was the colonel’s voice. She jerked her gaze away from the stranger. “Yes?”

“About time,” the colonel grumbled. “I was sayin’ that we need to read something by Louis L’Amour next time. Something with horses and bad guys.”

“If that’s what the group wants, we’ll do that,” she said, wondering how long she’d been under the doctor’s spell. She lifted her fingers to her neck and grasped the thin chain she always wore. The feeling of her fingertips on the delicate flesh made her shiver. She swallowed, struggling to act casual, to speak with her normal voice. “I think Helen made a suggestion last time. Isn’t that right, Helen?”

“That’s right. I want to read that vampire book. The one by Anne Rice.”

“Any other suggestions before we take a vote?” she asked as she looked around. Everyone in the group was either staring at her or the doctor.

“I think we should read a love story,” Henry said. “Where they end up happily ever after.”

Shirley giggled. “I’ll change my vote to that. What do you say, Colonel?”

“I don’t—” He stopped when all eyes focused on him. “Oh, all right. A love story.”

“Which one?” Gillian asked, knowing exactly what her friends were up to.

“Do you know one, Doc?” Helen asked.

“Hmm?”

“A love story. A book that’s about romance. You know. And sex.”

He cleared his throat, and Gillian saw a slight pink hue tint his cheeks. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he said. “But then, I won’t be here for the next session.”

“You never know,” Shirley said, looking from him to Gillian. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Ow!” Helen said suddenly, her brow crinkled and her mouth curled down in a frown. She glared at Shirley for a moment, leaned over to rub her leg, then turned to Conner. “I’m sorry, Doc, but I can’t go with you to the dinner dance after all. I forgot. I already have a date.”

Conner seemed surprised and just a little bit relieved. “That’s okay,” he said. “I appreciate the thought.”

“Then maybe you’ll appreciate this thought,” Helen continued as she sat up again. “Instead of me, why don’t you escort my friend Gillian? I know she doesn’t have a date, and it’s her party.”

Gillian’s gaze shot from Conner to Helen then back to Conner. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He seemed utterly flustered and incredibly uncomfortable.

“That’s all right,” she said hurriedly. “I’m sure Dr. Malloy can take care of his own plans. Now, let’s vote on the next book, shall we? All in favor of Louis L’Amour?”

No hands came up.

“All right, all in favor of Interview with the Vampire?”

Nothing. No votes at all.

“Maybe we ought to skip the next meeting,” she said, so anxious to get away that she’d already stood. “Or we can take a vote on the phone.”

Why had she thought he’d jump at the chance to take her to the dinner? Why had she wanted him to? She couldn’t believe how she’d let herself get carried away. She lived her life by certain rules, and no doctor from Houston was going to change that. No matter what color his eyes were or how deep his gaze.

“I think we should read Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” Henry said.

At once, all hands except hers and Conner’s shot up into the air.

“Okay, then,” Gillian said, “see you all next time.” She pushed her chair in and headed for the door, perfectly aware of her own rudeness, but desperate to flee.

“Wait…”

It was the doctor’s voice calling after her. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Good or bad. Either way, she knew she had to keep her distance from him. He’d stirred something inside her that she thought she’d banished forever. The only sure way not to get into trouble was not to see him again. Which shouldn’t be too difficult. She wouldn’t go to town, that’s all.

She clutched her book more tightly to her chest, then dashed for the door. Once outside, she slowed, but not by much. How she wished she could forget that look on his face. The bewilderment and confusion when Helen had offered her as a replacement. His dull silence in reply.

Gillian broke into a run. When she reached her car, she yanked open the door, then got in so fast she bumped her head. Perfect. Adding injury to insult.

Just as she started the engine, she saw him. He was standing outside the library, scanning the parking lot. She put the car in gear and sped toward the street before he had a chance to spot her. But she couldn’t calm down on the short drive home. His image toyed with her. Her own feelings betrayed her. She wished she’d never gone to the library at all.

After she turned on to her street and pulled into her driveway, she shut off the ignition and leaned her head on the steering wheel.

This was a lesson. A reminder of the reason she’d come to Miller’s Landing. Of why she didn’t date. Why she couldn’t date. She was too weak. Too vulnerable, even after all this time had passed.

When it came to men, Gillian had no self-control. She changed utterly when she fell for a guy. Gave herself over lock, stock, and barrel until there was no Gillian left. She’d been near Dr. Malloy for ten minutes and she’d already made a fool of herself.

All she had to do was stick to her one strict rule: no men, no matter what. She could do that, right? Right?

CONNER DIDN’T GO BACK inside the library. He couldn’t face Helen or the rest of them. Not after such a humiliating blunder. Not after he’d let a golden opportunity pass him by like that. Helen had offered Gillian on a silver platter, and what had he done? He’d frozen, that’s what. Sat there like a ninny with his jaw hanging open. Smooth. That was him all over.

His problem had just multiplied by ten, and it was his own fault. Instead of having a nice, pleasant meeting with the woman and letting nature take its course, he had to undo tonight’s damage, make sure she didn’t think he was a lunatic, then somehow win her over.

God, the way she’d looked at him! So confused at the beginning, and then…And then she’d given him the most welcoming smile he’d ever seen. He closed his eyes, her image so clear he could paint her from memory.

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