Doctor And The Debutante

“There’s a connecting door right there to the bathroom, if you need it,” he explained, turning on a small night-light.

She sank into the soft warmth. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Sure.” He saw that she was halfway asleep already, her large blue eyes closing. The medicine along with all she’d been through was dragging her under. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch lingering a bit longer than that of an impersonal doctor.

He watched Max snuggle up against her, keeping his golden eyes on their host. Sean moved to the door. “If the phone comes alive, is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

Her eyes opened as she mentally ran through the short list of possibilities. “No, there’s no one.”

Backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, Sean felt a rush of sadness that there was no one this lovely woman wanted to notify as to her whereabouts, no one who’d be worrying about her when she didn’t call or show up.

In the kitchen, he heated soup, set out crackers, poured himself a glass of milk. He sat down at the counter and ate disinterestedly, his thoughts elsewhere. Sean had a logical mind, one that usually sorted things out in an orderly fashion, studied the possibilities then came to an informed conclusion. But, try as he would, he couldn’t seem to pigeonhole Laura Marshall.

She came from a wealthy family, that much he knew. Her father had a good reputation for fair dealing, though Sean was aware that many regarded him as cold and calculating. He seemed to remember that Owen’s wife had died some time ago and, though his picture had been in the paper in the society section escorting a variety of well-heeled, bejeweled women, Sean didn’t think Laura’s father had remarried. She said she worked for the family real estate business decorating model homes. He couldn’t help wondering how she got along with Owen.

Sean took a bite of cracker and chewed thoughtfully. She’d left her home in one hell of a hurry, taking along only her purse and grumpy cat, heading for a cabin she’d described as a safe haven. Why did she need one? She’d obviously been up to their cabin often before, yet she hadn’t thought it might be snowing in mid-February, hadn’t dressed for the weather, hadn’t even worn boots, hadn’t thrown a few clothes into a bag.

Because she was afraid of someone or something, she’d confided, yet she didn’t know who or why. How would she react when she remembered? He finished his light dinner, drained his milk glass and sat back. Traumatic amnesia was very real and pretty scary. What had frightened her enough to send her scurrying to her safe haven with no luggage, no preparation?

Despite her accident, she appeared clear-eyed, lucid, honestly trying to remember. He could see it bothered her to not know what had motivated her rush to safety. She certainly wasn’t in a dangerous line of work, nor was her father. A boyfriend stalking her, perhaps? An ex-husband or an admirer who’d become obsessive? Laura Marshall was certainly beautiful enough to inspire such behavior.

Or could she be in trouble, maybe running from the law? Stranger things had happened, yet he didn’t think that was it.

For one thing, there was all that family money. Could someone be threatening her, blackmailing her or working some sort of scam? Or had he read too many mysteries lately and let his imagination go on overdrive?

Shaking his head at his flight of fancy, Sean put his dishes in the dishwasher and yawned expansively. He hadn’t slept well last night, as he rarely did on these sojourns. Maybe tonight would be better. Laura’s unexpected arrival had called a halt to his brooding, the first time anything had distracted him from remembering, from going over every detail of that fateful day trying to discover something he might have done differently.

He walked over to the portrait above the fireplace and stood staring at the smiling face so full of mischief. “I failed you, Danny,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Bending to make sure the fire was dying out, he sighed then walked over to check the phone. Still out. He paused by the room where Laura lay. Stepping in quietly, he saw that she hadn’t moved. Her cheeks were a bit flushed, one hand softly curled by her face. Max’s suspicious yellow eyes glowed in the semidark. Perhaps the cat sensed that he preferred dogs. Or maybe he could tell that, despite his stated desire to be left alone this week, he’d like nothing better than to change places with Max and curl up with Laura Marshall under the duvet.

Sean headed for his bedroom.

The light filtering in through the unadorned windows woke her. Blinking, Laura took a moment to orient herself, then realized it was a weak morning sun reflecting on snow that was still falling outside. Her headache was gone, and she was grateful for that. She dared to move her shoulder and felt a dull ache, but not the sharp pain of yesterday.

She turned toward the nightstand and saw that it was ten after eight on the Mickey Mouse clock. The lamp she hadn’t noticed last night was a grinning Bugs Bunny chomping on a carrot, its base containing the night-light still on.

Curiosity aroused, Laura looked around and saw that she had slept in what was obviously a child’s room. The yellow striped wallpaper had flocked Disney characters parading across one wall while a little red wagon sat in the far corner holding a rabbit with one ear. Surely they had to be the ones from the picture over the fireplace.

A dozen or more stuffed animals hung in a hammock stretched beneath two shelves of children’s books. A blue-and-white hobbyhorse was next to the wagon, and a child’s maple rocker holding a huge purple dinosaur was near the door to the bathroom. Atop the tall dresser was a huge pink piggy bank and one of those glass globes that you had to turn over and snow fell on an ice skating scene. A wooden train was next to it, the cars forming letters that spelled out Danny.

So the child in the picture wasn’t Sean but rather a boy named Danny whose room this obviously was. Trying to recall their earlier conversation, Laura realized that when she’d asked Sean if he lived here alone, he had said he actually lived in Scottsdale, that he’d built this cabin for times he wanted to get away from the city. An evasive reply.

Laura stretched and shoved back the covers, then sat up. The room tilted slightly, then righted itself. Max, who’d moved to the far side of the bed, gave her a quick glance, then resumed his morning grooming. “Time we got up, lazybones,” she told him.

It was utterly quiet, and she wondered if Sean was up. There was a simple explanation here, she’d wager. Sean was probably divorced and had a son named Danny who used this room during his visits with his father. Or was Sean still married and the boy and his mother were back in Scottsdale?

She didn’t think so. She could be wrong, of course, Laura thought, but the masculine decor of the cabin, with the exception of Danny’s room, the lack of a woman’s touch, the absence of any pictures other than the boy’s portrait all pointed to a single man. But the most telling thing was the way he looked at her, lingeringly, thoughtfully, heatedly. Not the way a married man in love with his wife would look at another woman, doctor or not.

Laura ran both hands through her tangled hair. Of course, she could be reading more into those looks than was there. But she’d also seen his hand tremble when he’d held out the water and pill. And again when he’d brushed the hair from her face when he’d laid her down on the bed. Later, dozing more than soundly asleep, she thought she’d heard him come into the room and stand looking down at her. She hadn’t stirred, hadn’t moved, yet she’d felt his presence. He hadn’t stayed long and, moments later, she’d heard the other bedroom door close.

Carefully she touched the bandage on her forehead, wondering if the concussion Sean seemed certain she had had affected her mind, as well. She wasn’t one who usually read meanings into every gesture and touch. And she certainly wasn’t looking for a relationship, not after the one she’d barely extricated herself from not long ago.

The short time she’d been involved with Marc Abbott should have taught her a great deal, should have soured her on quick attractions and the consequences that followed. And it had. Sean had commented that she didn’t trust easily, something he’d picked up on after knowing her ever so briefly. An astute observation.

Max sauntered over and began purring, a signal that he wanted to be petted. Smiling, Laura obliged, as her thoughts floated free.

With time and distance, divorced nearly two years, Laura thought she knew exactly why she’d fallen so hard and fast for Marc. He was awfully handsome, utterly charming and knew how to make a woman feel as if she were the only one in the room. Laura had never been one to attract men like Marc.

While not exactly a wallflower, she knew from her teens on that she wasn’t a raving beauty like her college roommate, Tate Monroe. Nor was she smart enough to graduate with a 4.0 like her other roommate, Molly Shipman. Ah, but she had something neither of them had had. She was rich, the only heir to her father’s wealth.

Laura felt a sob build in her throat and choked it down. What a pitiful thing it was to be not the pretty one, nor the smart one, but the rich one. Her fingers drifted through Max’s soft fur as she let her emotions settle. She’d long ago gotten over all that, hadn’t she?

At least she’d thought she had when someone handsome and clever such as Marc Abbott had sought her out and simply refused to take no for an answer. Overwhelmed, believing herself madly in love and gloriously happy, she’d married him.

And lived to regret that foolishly hopeful indulgence.

He’d hurt her, badly. But she’d moved on, took on more work, opened her own studio, became her own person. And she’d vowed to never ever let herself be a victim again. It wasn’t so bad, being alone, once you got used to it. Oh, she’d been asked out plenty, but other than business lunches and dinner meetings, she’d steered clear of letting anyone get close again. She’d never gone in for one-night stands, and everything else required a commitment she was unwilling to make.

And now she was up here, in the Gray Mountains in a snowstorm, marooned in a cabin with an attractive man who, even in her pitiful state, awakened some dormant desire inside her. But, not to worry. She’d tamp it down as she had with other occasional men who’d wandered into her life. Because she couldn’t trust them, could never know if they paid attention to her for the right reasons. If it wasn’t because she was gorgeous or had a personality that everyone gravitated to the moment she stepped into a room, then it was probably…because of her father’s money.

Lowering her head, she nuzzled Max’s fur. “No more feeling sorry for ourselves, Maxie,” she whispered to the cat. “We’re fine, just the two of us.”

Something caught her eye at the foot of the bed, a pile of clothes. She reached for them, examining each piece. Clean sweatshirt and sweatpants, thick socks, white cotton underwear, a chenille robe and an old-fashioned floor-length flannel nightgown. Well, well. About her size, though a tad roomy. His wife’s clothes? Or ex-wife’s? At any rate, it was very thoughtful of him. A shower and fresh clothes would feel good.

Testing her ankle, Laura stood up. Still swollen, still painful, but bearable. She gazed out the window and saw that the snow wasn’t letting up. There had to be several feet already and with the wind blowing drifts, probably higher in places. She’d never been marooned before, never spent time at a place where no one knew where she was. Saturday morning. She’d had no weekend plans, no luncheon dates or business consultations or shopping sprees with a girlfriend.

Would anyone be looking for her? Maybe, but she doubted if someone would actually worry until possibly Monday. Her father only sought her out when he had a decorating problem that needed solving or a favor he wanted from her. Everyone else would assume she’d gone away for a few days. Which, although she never did without informing someone, was a reasonable explanation.

Holding onto the bedpost, she took a step, then another then had to let go. Only three more steps to the bathroom door. Once inside, she could cling to any number of things. Her ankle felt rubbery, though Sean had said it didn’t appear to be broken.

Hugging the clothes to her chest with one hand, the other outstretched to reach for the doorknob, Laura took a step, then another on her sprained ankle. That’s when it went out on her and she went down with a yelp, crashing into a child’s rocker. A huge purple dinosaur fell onto her, the recorded mechanism triggered by the fall.

“I love you,” Barney sang. “You love me…”

Chapter Three

At the sound of the crash, Sean dropped his sketch pad and pencils onto the table and hurried to the bedroom. He found Laura on the floor struggling to free herself from Barney, who was nearly as large as she. He grabbed the stuffed dinosaur and tossed it aside, then bent to her. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her up and hoping she hadn’t reinjured her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Laura said, laughing. She teetered within his arms, her sprained ankle refusing to support her weight. “That’s the first time I’ve been attacked by a dinosaur. A purple one, at that.”

She couldn’t be hurt if she’s laughing, Sean realized, smiling as he steadied her. “I should have warned you. This room is booby-trapped.” He noticed Max eyeing him suspiciously from the tangle of bedcovers. Sean doubted that cat would ever trust him.

“I can see that now.” She looked up at him, thinking he should smile more. It softened the hard planes of his face.

Up close against her, Sean was suddenly conscious of her tousled hair, the just-out-of-bed warmth of her, the quick awareness that leaped into her dark blue eyes as her laughter faded. She was fully clothed, as was he, yet he could feel every nerve ending go on alert with just the touch of his hand on her arm.

Laura breathed in the just-showered freshness of his hair, noticing that his broad shoulders blocked everything else from view. She watched sudden heat jump into his gray eyes and felt the reawakening of feelings she’d thought long buried. What was happening here?

Sean was the first to recover. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” He forced his gaze down to her ankle, saw it was still swollen. “You shouldn’t be walking on that sprain.”

Laura leaned back from him, reaching a hand to brace herself on the bathroom door frame. She needed some distance, a moment to clear her head. “No harm done, really. I was just a little clumsy, that’s all.”

“I’ve got an old umbrella around here somewhere with a curved handle. It’ll help you walk. I’ll look for it.” He had to get out of there, to move away from the womanly scent of her, the sleepy-eyed look of her. Stepping back, he bent to gather up the clothes she’d dropped, then straightened and held them out to her. “These should fit you.”

“Thank you.” Needing to change the subject, she gestured to include the room. “Does this room belong to the little boy in the picture above the fireplace?”

Sean’s jaw clenched hard before he forced himself to relax. “It did.”

Past tense. She’d better leave that alone. “And these clothes. Your wife’s?”

“No!” He hadn’t intended to be so sharp. “They belong to my mother. She visits sometimes and keeps a few things here.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “There’re plenty of clean towels. Take your time. I’ll get that umbrella.” Abruptly, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

So it was Danny’s room and Danny’s picture, Laura thought as she hobbled into the bathroom. But no wife. Or at least, no clothes of the wife’s around. He’d sounded angry and bitter at the mention of her. Probably a divorce. Harsh and painful feelings often linger after a divorce. She ought to know.

Laura tested the shower, then began undressing, her mind digesting what she’d just learned.

No doubt Laura would think him quite odd when she learned that Danny was gone, yet he’d kept the boy’s room at the cabin exactly the same during the four years since the child had disappeared from his life, Sean acknowledged. Of course, she didn’t know the details. He supposed it wasn’t quite normal behavior, whatever that was. Those first few months, he’d had trouble even coming back here. Gradually, he’d managed to visit and each year, he intended to redo the room. But when he actually stepped inside to tackle the task, he couldn’t make himself pack up and put away all remnants of the laughing little boy who still owned his heart.

Sick was what Jonah told him he was, and his partner was probably right. He hadn’t many quirks, but this one he’d certainly nurtured a long while. His mother had offered to do it for him, and at first, he’d agreed, only to stop her before she could begin. A shrink would have a field day with his head, Sean thought.

So be it. It was his head and his right to keep the room any way he saw fit. Perhaps one day he’d know it was time.

He poured himself more coffee, then glanced down at the sketch he’d been working on. He’d drawn from memory Laura’s face the way it had looked to him last night. Lovely. Vulnerable. Troubled. She, too, had her secrets, as did he.

It was a hell of a complicated world, Sean decided, sitting down at the maple table and picking up his pencil.

She felt better after her shower. The clothes were slightly baggy on her, but clean. She’d managed to avoid soaking the bandage on her forehead, but it needed changing. She was pleased that her face wasn’t quite so pale, although she had one doozy of a shiner.

Sometime during the night, Sean had put a new toothbrush and even a hair dryer on one of the wide shelves next to the medicine chest. He said he’d built the cabin and apparently had thought of everything. She assumed there must be a second bath off his bedroom.

Laura finished blow-drying her hair just in time, for her ankle was hurting badly and standing was becoming uncomfortable. Hobbling, she made the bed as best she could, then found an old-fashioned umbrella with a thick curved handle by the door. All the amenities, she thought and left the room, leaning heavily on the makeshift cane.

He looked up when he heard her door open, but squelched the urge to rush to her side to help her over. He sensed she hated depending on him, or anyone. Besides, he wasn’t certain he could handle supporting her against his body, smelling his own shampoo on her hair. But he did get up to pour her coffee and carried the cup and a tall glass of orange juice over to where she’d sat down clear across the table from him.

Was she having some difficulty handling his nearness, as well?

“The clothes okay?” She was wearing his mom’s yellow sweats, their roominess emphasizing her small bone structure, making her seem more fragile.

“They’re fine, thank you.” She sipped the juice, her eyes downcast, feeling oddly ill at ease. It had been a very long time since she’d sat across the breakfast table from a man. Over two years, to be exact. And she and Marc had spent many of those early morning sessions quarreling before he’d leave in an angry huff.

Yes, those were the good old days. May they never return.

“Did you sleep well?” Sean asked, using his most professional doctor voice. If he could think of her as a patient, perhaps the air wouldn’t be so supercharged.

“Very well, thanks.” Which wasn’t exactly true. She had slept soundly until the medicine wore off, somewhere in the middle of the night. Pain hadn’t awakened her, her troubled thoughts had. She’d lain there trying to remember what had happened to bring her here, why she was afraid and who had made her so fearful. She’d come up empty-handed.

Laura raised her eyes to his face, caught the slight twitch of his mouth before shifting her gaze to the fogged-up window. Knowing he, too, was nervous helped her relax. “I see it’s still snowing.”

“Yeah. I shoveled off the porch earlier, and the steps, but they’re covered up again.”

Max chose that moment to saunter out of the bedroom, having completed his morning bathing ritual. He rubbed up against Laura’s legs, meowing softly, wanting her attention. Smiling, she reached to pet his soft head knowing just what he wanted. “About that tuna you said you had,” she reminded him, aware how hungry Max must be.

“Right.” Sean walked to the counter and found the tuna in the cupboard, opened the can and chunked the contents into a small dish. He placed the dish on the floor by the back door, then went back for a dish of water. As he set that down, Max strolled over, but waited until Sean went back to his seat before deigning to taste his breakfast.

“Thanks,” Laura said, her eyes on her cat.

Sean had been thinking about another problem involving Max. “What about a sandbox for him? Obviously, I don’t have any kitty litter.” And he didn’t want Max to get territorial and start marking his spots.

“Hmm. Maybe you could shovel off a small section near the back door. I’ll let him out and keep an eye on him. He’s not one to wander.”

“Fine.” Sean watched her wrap both hands around the coffee mug and slowly sip. Her lips were full and looked incredibly soft. He wondered what they’d feel like, what she’d taste like and…

And he was losing his mind!

Disgusted with himself, Sean rose and went to stand looking out the window. Damn, he didn’t need this right now, not this particular week. In the four years he’d been alone, he hadn’t exactly lived like a monk, but he hadn’t been with a lot of women, either. Mostly because at first, he hadn’t wanted to, and later, he hadn’t run across many who’d interested him in that way.

Besides, it wasn’t fair to a woman to get involved physically when he knew he’d never again take a chance on emotional involvement. It cost too much, in pain—in loneliness, in disappointment. The fleeting pleasure simply wasn’t worth it, though the lack of a love life often had him edgy. Especially when confronted with a beautiful woman in close quarters.

Laura Marshall was a mystery to him. Maybe that’s why she intrigued him. Perhaps if he learned more, the fascination would disappear. In a perfect world, he would help solve her problem, the snow would stop and the roads would be cleared, which would mean they could leave and get on with their respective lives. But then again, this was hardly a perfect world.

Turning, Sean went back and sat down. “Have you remembered any more about why you left home in such a hurry?”

She shook her head, her long hair curtaining her face. “I tried, but the memory is still blocked.” She narrowed her eyes, wanting badly to recall everything, for herself as well as to erase that skeptical look from his face. “I’d had a business lunch, then driven home about four. The phone was ringing as I walked in and I answered it. But I can’t remember who was on the other end, or even if they were male or female. I can recall only this overwhelming need to get away. I grabbed my purse and keys, picked up Max and literally ran out the door. I don’t even know if I locked up.” Setting down her cup, she rubbed her temples.

“Don’t try to force it. Give it time.” Noticing her bandage was damp, he went to get his medical bag.

Sean removed the bandage and discarded it, then examined the cut. “It’s coming along nicely.” He put antibiotic ointment on a clean gauze square, then taped it in place.

“Thank you, again. It seems I’m always thanking you.”

“Not necessary.” He scooted his chair back, then surprised her by reaching for her sprained ankle and moving it up onto his lap. Carefully he removed the thick sock and, with practiced fingers, he felt all over, noticing her slight wince as he pressed.

He had such strong fingers, Laura thought, yet he was so very careful not to hurt her. He took his time, feeling every which way, his touch soothing yet at the same time arousing. His hands kneading her foot sent sensual waves coursing up her leg. She felt the heat rise in her face and raised a hand to her brow so he wouldn’t notice.