Starting with a Kiss

A young man from the table she’d been staring at came up to her. Greg suddenly felt Abigail’s tension increase.

“Abby, I nearly didn’t recognize you. What did you do to yourself?” he asked bluntly, frowning as he looked her over from head to toe.

“Hi, Jeb.” She smiled at him almost in relief. “I don’t always wear lab coats, you know.”

From the bright smile and the way she looked up at the young man, Greg suspected he’d been her focus of interest all evening.

“I guess not, but neither do you wear dresses like this.” His gaze held obvious disapproval. “You look like a tart.”

Hot color instantly stained Abby’s checks.

A feeling of protectiveness suddenly and unexpectedly surged through Greg. She might not be dressed as conservatively as she normally did, but there was no reason to insult her! He stepped closer.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Greg Hastings.” He held out his hand, coming between Abigail and the rude young man as if he could cut the tension by his presence.

“Jeb Stuart. I’m an old friend of Abby’s. And Carol’s.” Jeb held out his hand.

Greg resisted the temptation to annihilate him with a punishing handshake. It was surprisingly hard. He thought that kind of behavior ended in high school. Obviously not.

“We have to be going,” he said to Abby, offering an out.

She took it gratefully. “Yes, of course. Bye, Jeb.”

As they wound their way through the crowd, Greg kept an eye on Abby. Her head held high, she refused to meet anyone’s eye, but walked determinedly toward the door. The deep pink in her cheeks made her blue eyes sparkle. He’d seen that same kind of sparkle once or twice when she became impassioned about a topic in the staff meeting.

He admired her for holding up after Jeb’s insult.

There seemed to be more to Dr. Trent than he’d first thought, even though none of it concerned him. She’d made that abundantly clear during the evening.

Nevertheless, his interest was piqued—he wanted to know about the relationship between her and Jeb Stuart. Were they lovers who had had a falling-out? He frowned, not liking the idea at all.

They had to wait for the parking attendant to bring his car. The air blew briskly down the canyon between buildings, the cool ocean fog already blanketing the city. Abby huddled in her coat, buttoned to the neck, her gaze on her toes.

“You did well in your speech,” he said to break the silence.

“Thanks.”

Another couple from the banquet left, calling goodnights.

Just then a taxi came to a stop in front of the restaurant. Before he could react, Greg watched Abby dart into the cab. Halting before closing the door, she offered a phony polite smile.

“Thanks for being my escort, Dr. Hastings. I’ll see myself home.”

So much for thinking the lady had a hidden agenda, Greg thought wryly as he watched the cab pull away. Two seconds later his car arrived.

“Timing is everything,” he murmured, giving the attendant a tip and sliding in behind the wheel. For a moment he considered following Abby to make sure she got home safely, then discarded the idea. The woman had made her choice clear. But he couldn’t help wondering what her thinking had been—before and after seeing Jeb Stuart.

Who was the real Abigail Trent—quiet, shy doctor? Or budding femme fatale?

Chapter Two

“Rats!” Abby murmured as she rushed down the hospital corridor. She wanted to run, but that was very definitely frowned upon at the hospital unless there was a life-threatening emergency. She was late—again. Which didn’t threaten anyone—except herself. The last staff meeting she’d been late for, Dr. Taylor had dripped sarcasm, and she’d had to endure the laughter of the whole staff.

Sometimes it couldn’t be helped. They were all doctors, they should understand that!

She turned the corner and slowed down a tad to get her breathing under control. Being late wasn’t the only reason she dreaded this meeting. Everyone in attendance would have been at the banquet last week. Everyone would know she’d made a fool of herself trying to compete in an area she had no business even venturing! She was a doctor, and a darn good one. Forget Jeb and concentrate on her work, she told herself for the millionth time.

True to her worst expectations, every eye immediately swung her way when she opened the conference room door and stepped inside. The lone empty seat was at the far end of the room. Murmuring an apology to Dr. Taylor, she began to walk toward it, only realizing at the last moment it was right next to Greg Hastings. Could life get any worse?

“Nice of you to join us, Dr. Trent,” Dr. Taylor said.

Excuses didn’t help. She nodded and sat, wishing she’d just skipped the meeting. She could have found out the news later from one of her friends. Susan Shattner looked at her and smiled, rolling her eyes. Susan had been late once, as Abby recalled. She too had been subject to Dr. Taylor’s scathing comments.

But never Dr. Hastings. Of course not, wasn’t he perfect?

Concentrating on Dr. Taylor, she did her best to ignore the man beside her. At least the chief of staff didn’t stop to make a snide comment this time.

“…which leads to the next item on the agenda. As you know, Steve Johnston co-chaired the conference committee with Greg. Due to the death of his father and the needs his mother continues to have, he’s leaving at the end of the month to return to Baltimore. I’ve relieved him of his conference responsibilities. But—” Dr. Taylor looked around the table, his gaze settling on Abby, “we still need a co-chair for the committee. Most of the work is done, but there will still be decisions to make, and continued supervision to make sure it comes off flawlessly. I’m appointing Abigail Trent to the position.”

Abby stared at him, dumbfounded. Incredulously she swung around to Greg Hastings. She was to share the committee chair position with him? The man who had witnessed her most embarrassing night ever? She couldn’t do it, not in a million years!

His cool gaze met hers, as if challenging her to say something.

She looked at Dr. Taylor again. “I don’t think I’m right for this,” she said. “I don’t have enough experience.”

“I’m not asking you to present a workshop, just assist Greg in coordinating the event. Sally Chapel and Bob Montgomery are also on the committee, to help as needed. But the final decisions will rest with you and Greg.” The subject was closed as far as he was concerned. He picked up a sheet of paper.

“Next up, the scheduling changes the Nursing Administration is requesting. It impacts primarily…”

Abby’s mind went blank. She couldn’t believe the assignment. Of all the people to be paired with. Not only did she and Dr. Hastings scarcely speak to each other, he’d been right there last week when Jeb had been so scathing. At least she’d been spared others hearing Jeb’s insult. Her cheeks burned again just remembering. She wished she could forget every moment, but her memory was excellent.

As, she was sure, was Dr. Hastings’s.

He slid a note in front of her: “My office after?”

Idly she noticed his bold handwriting, the easy-to-read note reminding her of his reputation for saying what he meant and never mind whose toes he stepped on—no emotions, no wasted energy.

She frowned and picked up her pen, scrawling back: “Can’t, I have appointments.”

Two minutes later the paper was returned: “When, then?”

She had a vague idea of cornering Dr. Taylor after the meeting and arguing against the assignment, but upon reflection, that might appear less than professional. And she could use the experience—if only it wasn’t with Dr. Hastings!

She dashed off the numeral four and slid the paper to her left. Her attention on the exchange of notes, she’d lost the trend of the discussion.

When the chief of staff called on Greg for an update on the conference, Abby tried her best to focus on what he was saying. After all, she’d have to come up to speed quickly.

But she found herself studying his hands as he held his papers, listening to the intonation and cadence of his voice as his richly masculine tones filled the room, cool and self-assured. He always was in control. Too controlled? she wondered. Did he ever let go? Maybe with close friends.

A close woman friend?

Frowning, she jerked her thoughts back to the presentation. She wasn’t going down that road. Whatever Greg Hastings did in his spare time was his business, not hers!

“Which brings us up to the ball on Saturday the twentieth. We have several civic organizations pledging support, so we should realize the goal we set.” Greg slanted a glance at Abby. “My new co-chair and I can check out the ballroom this week and make sure everything is on track. I trust Steve’s judgment, but this was one area I’ve neglected. With him gone, I’ll bring us both up to speed on that aspect.”

The ball! A major fund-raiser for the hospital, the annual charity event drew corporate sponsors and individuals alike. Held at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco, it was lavish and elegant. Or so she’d heard. It would be the first one she had attended.

Abby looked warily at the chief of staff. That was one event she’d make sure she had a date for even if she had to hire somebody off the street!

“Good job, Greg. Any other items we need to address?” Dr. Taylor asked the staff.

Not hearing any, the meeting was adjourned.

“Susan, can I speak with you?” Abby jumped up before she could be cornered by Greg Hastings and, gathering her notes, hastened to join her friend.

“So,” Susan said, glancing over her shoulder.

“You and Greg. Is this a trend? You two went to that banquet last week, now co-chairs? Hmm, anything you want to share with a friend?”

“Yes, I wish I didn’t have this assignment. And didn’t you hear, last week was a duty escort arranged by Dr. Taylor.”

“Not according to the rampant rumors going around. Apparently there’s a nurse on the surgical wing who is very miffed.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t anyone have anything better to do than gossip?”

“About our sexy Dr. Hastings? I doubt it.”

“Oh, well, if it’s just about him—”

“Not exactly.”

Abby waited until the hallway was almost deserted, then dared to ask, “Not exactly?”

“There was some speculation as to the way you were dressed.”

Abby groaned with embarrassment. “I knew it, it was too much, wasn’t it.”

“Certainly not your style,” her friend said gently.

“My neighbor helped. She’s a bit more flamboyant than I am.”

“I thought you looked fantastic.”

“Well, some parties thought I looked like a tart.”

“Greg?”

She shrugged. “If he did, he was polite enough to refrain from saying so.”

“Who?”

“Just a friend who obviously felt no such restraints.”

“And the purpose of that dress?”

Abby glanced around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard. “I was trying to make someone take notice.”

“Honey, I think the entire male population of the hospital took notice. Super doctor by day, femme fatale by night!”

Abby scowled. “Not my intent.”

Susan studied her for a moment. “There’s a happy medium—you just need some pointers.”

“Are you volunteering?” Abby asked, diverted temporarily by the idea. She had been over the top last week. And it hadn’t done a speck of good. Jeb had not found her attractive—just the opposite.

“No, but I know someone who would be perfect.” The teasing look in her eyes made Abby wary.

“Right—in my spare time. But in the meantime, I didn’t stop you to discuss my social life. I wanted to ask you about that procedure you were talking about a few weeks ago. I have a kid who is not responding to normal treatment.”

Thankfully, their conversation turned to medicine and Abby was able to put aside the memory of that embarrassing night.

Until she showed up at Dr. Hastings’s office that afternoon just prior to four. She made sure she was not late. His door was ajar, the secretary’s desk empty.

Should she wait, or just go in? Taking a step closer, she heard voices. Someone was in with Greg. She’d wait.

“Shall I leave the door open when your four-o’clock appointment arrives?” The voice came from Greg’s secretary, Rose. Abby had met her once before.

“Why?” The sound of papers being shuffled drifted outside the door.

“Your reputation, of course,” Rose said with asperity. “After the way Dr. Trent was dressed when you took her to the banquet, you have to know she’s trying to vamp you.”

“Vamp me? Where do you come up with these terms, Rose?”

Abby’s cheeks began to burn again. Did the entire hospital think she had been trying to make a play for Dr. Hastings?

“I’m into retro. Anyway, I’m looking out for you.”

“Yeah, the man most likely to sweep a woman off her feet.”

“One look at your killer smile and every woman in sight will swoon.”

He laughed.

Abby stepped closer, charmed by the rich tone of Greg’s laughter. If only she didn’t feel she was the butt of the joke. Damn, why had she let Kim talk her into all that makeup and that dress?

“Rose, you’re priceless. When Dr. Trent arrives, show her in, and then shut the door.”

“What was that about last week?”

“Darn if I know. I expected a quiet, mousy physician to open her door, so I was as surprised as anyone else at the way she looked.”

There were several seconds of silence. Mousy? Was that how he saw her? Did everyone see her that way? Abby turned to tiptoe away when Rose spoke again, her voice pensive.

“You know, maybe she’s looking to change her image. You could help.”

“Me?” Greg laughed again. “I don’t think so, Rose.”

“Think about it, Pam could get her some clothes that suited her personality. Elise could give her pointers on walking and looking sexy, and how to apply makeup for an understated look. I’m serious, Greg.”

“I will not think about it. Thanks for the suggestions, Rose, but Dr. Trent is well able to look after herself.”

“Hmm, I wonder.”

Abby spun around and headed for the hall. She’d rather be thought tardy than be caught eavesdropping—especially when she’d been the topic under discussion. Heat scorched her cheeks. She wanted to dash away and never face the man again. Or his cheeky secretary.

She reached the water fountain and stopped for a drink, hoping the color that had flooded her cheeks would fade. This was worse than she’d expected. She thought she and Greg would just briefly touch base. He’d hand her a file of the committee information and she could escape. Now she’d be wondering what he was thinking the entire time.

She cleared her throat as she drew near the secretary’s desk. Rose was just coming from Greg’s office. Young and stylish, she was well thought of throughout the hospital, fiercely loyal to her boss, and the hospital in general.

“Hi, Dr. Trent. You’re right on time,” she said, smiling brightly.

Abby nodded, avoiding Rose’s eyes. “Is Dr. Hastings ready?”

Greg appeared in the doorway, almost filling the space. Abby swallowed and tried to ignore the familiar fluttering in her stomach. Tried not to dwell on the conversation she’d overheard.

“Since we’ll be working closely on the conference, don’t you think you should call me Greg?” he said easily, leaning casually against the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his chest as he assessed her.

He’d noticed, had he, that she’d never been able to call him by his first name? Had anyone else noticed?

As she drew closer and he didn’t budge, she wondered if he would move to allow her through the door?

He did, at the last second, his eyes dancing in taunting amusement.

She stepped inside his office, her defenses on the ready. She was not some woman to be swept away by his killer smile, or anything else. She was here under protest, and would do only what she had to in order to pull her weight on the committee.

Deliberately Greg shut the door.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the visitor chairs then took his seat behind his desk. Seconds later he began to fill her in on all the steps taken in preparation for the conference. Rose was handling many of the details and follow-up work. The schedule had been settled, speakers committed, programs drafted for the printers.

Several minutes later he looked up. “That leaves the ball. Steve was working on that, and I expect you can take over from where he left. The orchestra has been booked, the menu finalized, former donors contacted. There will be only the routine tasks left now. If you could supervise this aspect, it would help. Let me or Rose know if you need anything.”

Abby nodded, wondering if she could leave now. She’d make sure she managed everything without ever bothering Greg or his outspoken secretary.

He slid the folder to her. “This pretty much recaps everything.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “Will you be needing an escort to the ball?” he asked.

“No,” she said, gathering the folder and standing. Was she never going to live that down?

“Just checking. It would be easier to know early rather than the day of the event.”

“It wasn’t my idea last time. I assure you, I’ll find someone to take me to the ball. And if I don’t, Dr. Taylor will never learn it from me!”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “You’ll find someone? No steady man in your life?”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, Dr. Hastings, but no there’s not.” She clutched the folder to her chest and edged toward the door.

“Greg,” he said, standing.

She nodded abruptly. “If that’s all, I do have other things to do.”

“That’s all for now. Review the information and let me know if you have any questions. Are you free tomorrow at two?”

“Tomorrow? Why?”

“So we can check out the ballroom at the hotel. If that time’s not good, let Rose know when you can go. I’ll drive.”

“I don’t have my calendar with me, but I expect it won’t be convenient. I see patients all day long, you know.”

He nodded. “I have a gall bladder first thing tomorrow, but then am free. If you’re not, we’ll make it later. Say seven?”

Abby wanted to protest, but she didn’t have an alternative time that would be convenient. Never seeing him again would be convenient, but wasn’t going to happen.

“Fine. Seven, tomorrow.” Turning, she almost fled from his office.

Rose looked up in surprise. “Finished already?”

Abby nodded and kept walking. She had more than twenty-four hours to get herself under control before seeing him again. She’d be the epitome of professionalism.

Given time, there’d be other tidbits to capture the attention of the hospital gossips. Her one foray into life on the wild side would fade.

And she’d learned her lesson. She couldn’t compete with Sara. Jeb was gone. She had to accept it. And truth to tell, even if overnight she became some beautiful sex symbol, she didn’t want a man who would turn away at the first sight of a new face.

What did Greg Hastings look for? she wondered.

When Greg rang Abby’s doorbell the next evening, he felt a slight rise of anticipation. So far he couldn’t quite call their encounters productive. She always seemed poised to take off at any second—her leaving him in front of the restaurant last week a case in point. Yet he was almost looking forward to their get-together this evening. For a little while, at least, she’d have to give him some attention. Maybe he could better understand the woman.

She opened the door. For a split second he was disappointed she hadn’t done her hair up as if she’d just tumbled out of bed. And that she wasn’t wearing a dress that displayed every inch of her body like a man’s fantasy. She wore the expected tailored suit, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. And she was not wearing any makeup. From one extreme to another.

“Good evening, I’m ready.” She stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut, checking the lock.

“Despite the rumors, I don’t believe you are trying to seduce me,” he murmured.

“What?” She looked up, startled.

At least that got a reaction. “Seduction needs more privacy than your hall.” He turned toward the elevator. “I’ll have to reassure Rose that we have a strictly business relationship.”

“I don’t feel we have any kind of relationship at all, Dr. Hastings.” Abby fell into step beside him. “I certainly didn’t ask Dr. Taylor to press you into service last week. And I could check out the hotel ballroom on my own this evening. You don’t have to accompany me.”

“But it’s so much easier if we check it out together.” Greg said smoothly. “If you don’t call me by my name from now on, Abigail, I’ll have to take drastic measures!”

“Such as?” She punched the down call button for the elevator with more force than he thought necessary.

“I don’t know,” he teased, suddenly enjoying himself for the first time in a long while. As the elevator doors slid open, they stepped inside. An older couple already was in the car.

“Maybe kiss you,” he said outrageously just to get another rise from her.

She glared at him. Silence reigned.

When the elevator reached the lobby, the older couple gave them a brief glance and stepped out.

Abby watched until they were out the front door before spinning around.

“That was totally uncalled-for. I can just imagine what they were thinking!”

With a gentle nudge, he urged her from the elevator and across the marble floor of the lobby.

“What they’re thinking, Greg.”

“Greg, Greg, Greg! There, are you satisfied?”

Holding the lobby door for her, Greg watched as she stormed out to the sidewalk. For a moment the image of her saying the words in a different context slammed into him.

Abigail Trent and bed? The thought was ludicrous. She had no interest in him and he certainly could afford no long-term interest in any woman.

When they reached the hotel on Union Square, Greg availed himself of valet parking, wondering if Abby planned to dash into another cab when they’d finished.

“For the record, I’m taking you home,” he said as they entered the St. Francis Hotel. The old San Francisco landmark was centrally located and perfect for the lavish fund-raising ball.

“There’s no need—”

“Actually, there is. I have something to discuss with you,” he said as they entered the lobby.

“About the conference?”

“Sort of.”

“And you can’t discuss it here?” Abby asked suspiciously.

“No.”

They met the events coordinator and soon had a tour of the ballroom and the kitchen that would service the event. They discussed decorations and music, in addition to amenities like the cloakroom, anticipated space needed for valet parking, and rooms for guests who would like to avail themselves of the chance to spend the night after the ball.

Greg noticed Abby’s questions were well thought out, and seemed to cover all aspects of the event. He knew she had never attended one of the balls, but she honed in on the aspects most likely to cause problems at the last minute.

He wasn’t sure why Ben had assigned Abby as co-chair, but she proved she’d do her share.

It was after nine by the time they finished. Greg took her arm in a gentle grip.

“I won’t run away,” Abby said irritably.

“Indulge me,” he said.

“You don’t trust me, Doctor?”

“Not any further than I can throw you. But don’t take it personally, I don’t trust any woman.”

“There’s a comment that begs for elaboration.”

“Not tonight. Here’s the car.”

The ride to her place was silent. Greg wondered what she was thinking—and how best to broach the subject Rose insisted he bring up.

When he stopped in front of her apartment building, he turned off the engine and turned to look at her.