Prognosis: Romance

He let her walk a couple of steps ahead of him toward the parking lot. Her thin white cover-up fluttered when she walked, floating around her slender body to end at midthigh. He could just see the outline of her yellow bikini through the now-dry fabric. Her hair had dried into a mop of soft red curls that looked temptingly touchable.

When she glanced back at him with a smile, it occurred to him that she wore no makeup, but she didn’t need enhancement. He found the splash of golden freckles across her nose and cheeks intriguing and couldn’t imagine why she would want to hide them. While she probably wouldn’t be described as a true beauty, he couldn’t imagine anything he would change about her fresh, pretty features.

He realized abruptly that he didn’t want to tell her goodbye and drive away without any prospect of seeing her again.

James cleared his throat as they reached his car, and Shannon braced herself, wishing they could skip past what she sensed was coming. She had hoped he would be immune to her relatives’ heavy-handed hints.

“I enjoyed the meal with your family,” he said, giving her one of his intriguingly faint smiles. “Thank you for inviting me to join you.”

“The least we could do,” she assured him. “And everyone enjoyed meeting you.”

She hoped that sounded casual and generic enough.

He frowned just a little, as if it had indeed caught his attention that she hadn’t referred specifically to herself, but he smoothed the expression almost immediately. “I’d like to hear more about your business sometime. It sounds very interesting.”

“You should check my Web site. Kid Capers dot com. All the details are there.”

His frown lasted a bit longer this time. “Um, yeah, I’ll check that out. But what I meant was, I’d like to hear more from you. Maybe we could have dinner sometime?”

He really was an attractive man. His dark hair was so thick and temptingly touchable. His elusive smile made her want to go to extra lengths to earn it. She liked the way he moved—with a deliberateness that was both elegant and masculine all at the same time. Her prided instincts told her this man was actually a study in contrasts—cordial, yet reserved; friendly, yet private; open to others, yet somehow closed on a personal level.

It was the latter quality that made her smile regretfully and shake her head. “I’m afraid I’m very busy right now, between my part-time job and getting my new business off the ground. I know you’re quite busy, too, so perhaps it would be best if we just say goodbye. It was very nice meeting you, James.”

His expression unreadable, he nodded and shook the hand she offered him. She tried without much success to ignore the frisson of awareness that went through her again when their palms touched so briefly. There were most definitely sparks here, she thought, rather quickly pulling away. Which didn’t mean she should place herself in a position to get burned. She still bore the scars from the last time she’d played with fire, romantically speaking.

“Goodbye, Shannon. Enjoy your ball game.”

With that, he climbed into his car. She turned to rejoin her family, but couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder as he drove away. She was aware of a funny little pang inside her when the car disappeared from her sight. Ordering herself to get over it, she drew a deep breath in preparation for her family’s scolding for letting that nice young doctor slip away.

Shannon hung up her cell phone with a satisfied smile. “And it’s a deal,” she murmured, pumping her fist in a gesture of success.

Devin Caswell, her friend, housemate and occasional assistant, clapped her hands with a muted cheer. “You got the gig?”

“Booked it.”

“Details?”

Shannon glanced at her notes. “Birthday party, nine-year-old girl, first Saturday in September—two weeks from tomorrow—at the home. The kid takes dance lessons, plays soccer, loves purple, like every other nine-year-old girl in the world and enjoys handcrafts. Her mom wants each guest to leave the party with a hand-crafted item to keep as a favor. I suggested decorated tote bags or headbands or beaded necklaces or friendship bracelets. She liked them all.”

Devin chuckled. “Going to be interesting trying to work all of that into a two-hour party.”

Wrinkling her nose, Shannon made another note on the pad. “The mom gave me free rein to come up with the projects, though I have a somewhat limited budget. It won’t be a big bash, but I’ll still make a small profit and that’s what counts. Maybe I’ll get some more jobs out of it.”

“Two weeks. Short notice, wasn’t it?”

“She apologized for that. She said she had intended to handle all the arrangements herself, but apparently she’s realized she just doesn’t have time to do the party justice. She said a friend of her husband’s recommended me. She was vague about who it was; I assume it was a former client. I’ll ask again next time I talk to her, so I can thank whoever it was for the referral.”

With a wry smile, she added, “Mrs. Hayes seemed to think it was a miracle we didn’t already have a party scheduled that day. I didn’t bother to mention we’re more likely to be free than booked on any given Saturday.”

Dark-haired, dark-eyed Devin wagged a finger, trying to keep her expression stern rather than amused. “Of course you didn’t mention that. One has to look successful to be successful, right?”

“Exactly.” That was the reason she and Devin had set up the living room of their small, rented house with as much an eye toward hosting potential clients as entertaining friends. The TV was housed in a cabinet with a door they kept closed when not in use. Few knickknacks cluttered the polished surfaces of the tables on either end of the plain, beige couch accessorized with a few colorful throw pillows. The framed posters on the walls were inexpensive, but tasteful.

Bookcases grouped around a round wood table in one corner of the room held albums of photographs and sample materials for the theme parties. The clutter of bookkeeping, order forms and supplies was stashed in the bedrooms and the tiny, barely-one-car garage used only for storage.

She hadn’t needed to show Mia Hayes any of the samples, she mused, glancing at the telephone. Mrs. Hayes had asked only a few questions before booking Shannon’s services. Whoever had passed along the recommendation must have been convincing. Shannon made a mental note to try to find out who it had been. Word of mouth was invaluable in this budding business and she wanted to make sure to express her gratitude.

She glanced at her watch, realizing she would have to try to solve that mystery later. “I’d better get going. Don’t want to be late to work.”

Having spent most of the last night at the hospital where she worked as a Certified Nurse Assistant, Devin yawned and nodded. “I’m headed to bed for a few hours. By the way, when you get home, I want to ask you about someone you met recently. A handsome young doctor?”

Freezing in the process of reaching for her purse, Shannon looked over her shoulder as a vividly clear image of James Stillman popped into her head. Six days had passed since their meeting at the lake, but she still had no trouble recalling every detail of his appearance. She could even still hear his deep, pleasant voice echoing in her ears as he’d asked her to dinner.

“How did you hear about that?”

“Talked to Stacy before work last night. She mentioned him, then asked if I knew him from the hospital. I told her the name doesn’t sound familiar. I don’t know all the med students, of course, only the ones working in post-op during my hours.”

Shannon sighed lightly. Stacy had probably given a dramatically embellished account of her son’s rescue. Who knew what else she’d said?

“Kyle fell off his floating mattress and a nice medical student happened to be there to help him. One of us probably would have noticed and gotten to him in time, but we were very grateful to James for his assistance. We asked him to join us for burgers, he did, it was all very pleasant and then he left. End of story.”

“Hmm.” Devin eyed her assessingly. “How come you didn’t tell me about that before? How come you didn’t ask if I knew him?”

Shannon still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t described the incident to Devin. Maybe because she was still chagrined she and her siblings had been so momentarily lax with watching the kids in the water. She didn’t even want to think about the worst-case outcome of that negligence.

As for the meeting with James, it was a onetime thing, so hardly worth mentioning. Right? “It didn’t come up. We’ve both been so busy lately.”

“Stacy said the guy sure seemed taken with you. Did he ask for your number?”

“No, he didn’t.” She wasn’t lying, she assured herself. Devin hadn’t inquired if James had asked her out.

Her housemate frowned in disapproval. “And you didn’t offer it?”

“I did not. I didn’t even know the guy.”

“According to Stacy, he was a gorgeous doctor-to-be who rescued your nephew and was nice to your aging relatives. What more do you need to know?”

Devin had fallen into the habit of serving as surrogate big sister to Shannon when Stacy wasn’t around. She’d been known to fuss about Shannon’s not-always-healthy eating habits, about her not always getting enough sleep or working too hard at her two jobs. Shannon didn’t like being supervised by her housemate any more than she did by her family. She had learned to be very firm in drawing boundaries with Devin.

Tucking her purse beneath her arm, she reached determinedly for her car keys. “I’m leaving now. Get some sleep, Dev.”

Looking dissatisfied, Devin sighed. “Okay, fine. See you later.”

Shannon opened the front door. “See you.”

Thoughts of James Stillman drifted through her mind as she made the drive to the west Little Rock toy store where she worked part-time. If she were being honest, she would have to admit it hadn’t taken the reminder from her housemate to bring him to her mind. Images of him had popped into her head too many times since their encounter.

He was the first man who’d seriously caught her attention in several months, but she wasn’t convinced she’d been wrong to turn down his invitation. Something inside her had warned that even a simple dinner date with James could lead to complications. Ever since her last painful relationship—the second romantic disaster in her relatively short life—she’d vowed to herself to always listen to her instincts from that point on.

She had just finished assisting a customer with finding a popular doll accessory two hours later when her sixth sense, or whatever it was, kicked into overdrive again. Blinking in a startled reaction to the sudden, unusual tingling feeling, she turned warily.

Looking preppy and gorgeous in a dark blue polo shirt and crisply pressed khaki pants, James Stillman smiled at her from the end of the aisle. “Hello, Shannon.”

Caught off guard by seeing him there—and by the presentiment that had been odd even for her—she gaped at him a moment before regaining her composure. “James. What are you doing here?”

Chapter Three

If James heard any suspicion in her question, it didn’t show in his easy smile. “I’m here to buy a gift for a friend’s daughter. Maybe you could help me choose something? To be honest, I’m clueless when it comes to that sort of thing.”

She eyed him with a frown. Was he really here only to buy a gift? He had just happened to come to the store where she worked for the purchase? She was pretty sure he’d heard the name of the store at the picnic. Had he come here today because she might be here, or was that speculation just conceit on her part?

The store manager, Bill Travis, walked by just in time to hear James’s comment. He smiled at the potential customer, then glanced at Shannon as if wondering what was taking her so long to reply. “She’ll be glad to help you, sir. Don’t hesitate to ask Shannon for any assistance you need.”

James nodded at the passing manager. “Thanks.”

Bill shot another look at Shannon, then continued on toward the back of the store where the offices and storage rooms were located.

Switching to the briskly professional tone she used with all the store’s customers, Shannon gave James a bright smile. “I’d be delighted to assist you. How old is your friend’s daughter?”

“Alexis is turning nine in a couple of weeks. What sort of thing do nine-year-old girls like?”

The girl’s name, along with her age, made a lightbulb turn on in Shannon’s head. “This girl’s last name wouldn’t be Hayes, would it?”

He lifted his dark eyebrows in surprise. “Why, yes. Alexis Hayes. How did you know?”

She sighed, uncertain herself how she’d put those particular dots together so quickly. “Her mother called me this morning to handle the birthday party arrangements. She said she’d been given my name by a friend. That would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“It would. Her husband, my friend and classmate, Connor, mentioned that Mia was really snowed under with her grad-school work, teaching duties and their daughter’s activities. He can’t help her much right now because he’s on a difficult rotation. When he said they were trying to find time to arrange a birthday party for Alexis, I suggested they contact you. Mia liked the idea of having someone else do all the work and planning for once.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about acquiring the job through James. It was her nature as the often patronizingly-indulged youngest sibling to immediately resist whenever it seemed that someone was offering her a handout, as if she were some charity case who needed assistance handling her own affairs. Her prickly independence, as Philip had referred to it, had been a definite sore spot between them.

But then she told herself she should be happy for any booking, no matter how it had come about, and chided herself for being unreasonable. Hadn’t she been grateful earlier for the word-of-mouth business? Before she’d learned from whose mouth the advice had issued? “Thank you. I appreciate the referral. I’ll do a good job for your friend.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t have recommended you if I’d thought otherwise.”

There it was again. That faint, somewhat elusive tilt of his lips that made her heart flutter foolishly and her own mouth tingle as if in wistful anticipation.

Turning brusquely toward the shelves of dolls and accessories, she spoke in a deliberately businesslike manner. “These things are probably too young for a nine-year-old. How well do you know Alexis?”

“I’ve known her since she was six, but that doesn’t mean I know what sort of things she likes,” he admitted. “She’s a cute kid. Smart. Polite. Active. That’s about the sum of what I can tell you.”

“Her mother said she likes dance and soccer and the color purple.”

“Sounds like her. You get any ideas for gifts out of that?”

“She also likes handcrafts.” She led him to another aisle filled with handcraft kits. “These are designed for children her age.”

James studied rows of kits for making stuffed toys and jewelry and sun catchers and hair accessories. Nothing seemed to interest him much. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, let’s look at this section,” she said, stepping around him. Their arms brushed as she did so and she was annoyed that her pulse rate stuttered in response to the contact. Focusing fiercely on the job at hand, she pointed out several rows of art supplies. “Does she like to draw or paint?”

“Actually, I have seen several pictures she drew displayed on the fridge when I’ve studied at their house,” he replied thoughtfully. “She’s pretty good, for a kid.”

“Maybe a box of pastels,” she suggested, picking up a small but nice set. He hadn’t said what he wanted to spend, but she figured that was a safe guess.

James examined the pastels she handed him, but his attention was quickly drawn to a larger art-supplies set packaged in a wooden box with brass hinges on each side. The box opened from the center to reveal a rainbow selection of colored pencils, pastels, watercolors and tubes of oil paints, graphite drawing pencils, erasers, sharpeners and other supplies.

Recommended for ages eight and up, the set was rather pricey—more than Shannon would be able to spend on her nieces and nephews for birthday gifts. She noted that James didn’t even check the price.

“This looks nice. Maybe she’d like this.”

“Any kid who likes to draw and paint would love that set. Heck, I’d like it, myself,” she added with a grin.

She was being quite candid. She had loved drawing and painting since her own childhood, though she considered herself only marginally talented. Artistic enough to come in handy for her children’s parties, anyway. Unfortunately, this lovely set was out of her miscellaneous-expense budget.

“Okay, I’ll get this,” James announced in sudden decision. “If she doesn’t care for it, I assume she can exchange it for something else?”

“Of course she can. But I bet she’ll keep it.”

She remembered her impression that James came from a privileged background. He certainly didn’t fit the image of a financially struggling medical student. But she didn’t get the feeling he was flashing his money, either. He seemed to simply want to buy a gift his little friend would enjoy.

She wondered if he could possibly identify with the very tight budget she lived on while she tried to get her struggling business off the ground. Could someone who’d never had to count pennies understand what it was like to worry about paying next month’s rent?

“Where do I pay for this?” he asked, hefting the sizable box.

“At the front register on your way out.”

“Okay, thanks.” He gave her another small smile. “You’ve been very accommodating.”

She swallowed, forcefully holding her own smile in place. “I’m glad I could help. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He seemed to have been waiting for that very question. He replied without hesitation. “Yes. You can have dinner with me some night soon.”

It wasn’t totally a surprise, but she still blinked a couple of times before frowning at him. “I thought we’d already covered this subject. It’s nice of you to ask, but I’m going to have to decline.”

“Because we’re both too busy,” he said, quoting her excuse from before.

She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”

It was even true—if not the whole truth.

“There’s always time to eat a meal.”

He didn’t sound argumentative. Not even particularly determined to change her mind. He was simply stating a fact, she decided.

She answered in kind. “Well, yes, there’s always time for a meal. But—”

“But not with me.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, making it clear he didn’t buy that, either.

Sighing, she shook her head. “Okay, maybe it’s a little personal. You make me nervous, James.”

He looked startled, then chagrined. “I’m sorry. You needn’t worry about me bothering you again, Shannon. I’m really not…I just thought…well, never mind. I’ll just go pay for this now.”

Grimacing, she caught his arm when he would have hurried away. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

But he’d gone stiff in response to her thoughtless comment and she couldn’t begin to read his expression now. There was no evidence of his intriguing little half-smile when he drew away. “It’s okay. I understand. Thanks again for your help.”

“James—”

“Excuse me, miss, do you work here? I’m looking for that new Perky Pet that’s so popular.” The elderly customer glanced uncertainly from Shannon to James as if sensing she might have interrupted something more than a retail transaction.

James took advantage of the interruption to nod a goodbye to Shannon and disappear with his purchase.

Smoothing both her expression and the bright green vest that marked her as a store employee, Shannon focused on her new customer. “Yes, ma’am, we have a whole display devoted to Perky Pets. Follow me and I’ll show you the newest selections.”

She would mentally replay that clumsy interlude with James later, she predicted with an inner wince. She was quite sure she would come up with exactly the right things to have said, now that it was too late to correct her tactless blunder.

James had spent the entire month of August doing an AI, or Acting Internship, in pediatrics. It had been a demanding rotation, with only four days off during the month—one of which he’d spent at the lake where he’d met Shannon and her family. Still, he’d enjoyed the experience, finding it instructive and mentally challenging, both requirements he craved in his daily activities.

As the name implied, his duties mimicked those of a true medical intern, giving him experience for whatever residency program he would enter after his graduation in May. Beginning work at seven each morning, he carried the same patient load as an intern, wrote daily progress notes on the patients, made presentations during daily rounds and even wrote orders, though his orders had to be cosigned by a resident. He carried a pager and had been on call a couple of times, sleeping in the call room as did the regular pediatric residents.

The evaluations of his performance had been glowing, as far as his medical skills. He was noted as punctual, conscientious, perceptive and professional. He had excelled in the first two years of medical school, comprehending the lectures and acing the tests so that he’d entered the third year at the top of the class. No real surprise; he had entered medical school having already obtained a Ph.D in microbiology, so he’d had a solid foundation for the material in the lectures.

And yet, when it came to his communication skills, the remarks were less enthusiastic. And that frustrated him to no end.

His conversational abilities were fine. Having grown up in an academic household, he could express himself clearly, easily explain even the most complicated terms and hold his own in a debate. Spending time with his study-group friends the past three years had taught him more about making small talk and lightening tense moments with a smile and a quip—things he hadn’t learned from his intensely serious parents.

While it had been made clear from the beginning that physicians had to maintain a professional distance, and while some specialties required less personal interaction than others, James was primarily interested in the pediatric infectious disease practice. With his strong academic and research background in microbiology, he believed he had much to offer to the field. Yet dealing with the emotions of patients and their worried parents was very much a part of that specialty and James wondered sometimes if he’d ever master that particular skill.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the ailing children. Obviously he did, or he wouldn’t even consider dedicating the rest of his life to curing them. Nor was he hardened to the emotional toll a child’s illness took on the rest of the family. He always felt as if he was saying the right things, behaving as the situation required—and yet he still kept getting those vaguely worded evaluations about how he needed to work on his communication skills.

He was growing increasingly frustrated with that situation. How was he to maintain a professional distance and still empathize with the patients? How did one learn to express the optimum mixture of competency and compassion? If only there were some formula to memorize or some protocol to learn, he’d have no problem, but this was an intuitive, indefinable quality he wasn’t sure he possessed.

Obviously, he’d been less than successful in communicating with Shannon Gambill, he thought glumly, making a note in a patient chart before completing his duties on the last Thursday of his Acting Internship. He’d thought he’d been friendly and pleasant, just persistent enough to make his interest clear. Shannon had seen his behavior differently.

You make me nervous, James.

He still winced when he remembered those words. Apparently he’d come on too strong or too…something. It had certainly never been his intention to make her uncomfortable.