Tanya Michaels – Melting the M.D. (страница 2)
“So, uh, when did you get into town?” Meg asked, filling the strained silence.
“Drove my parents in last night. I let them borrow my car today to tour a historical museum on the other side of the county.” Otherwise, he’d have his own mode of transportation right now and wouldn’t be dependent on the only woman who’d ever broken his heart.
Meg parked in front of the shopping center where the tuxedo rental place was located. After their tense car ride, she’d never been happier to reach a destination, including the time her parents had decided on a spur-of-the-moment fourteen-hour road trip to the Grand Canyon.
But she smiled at him and said, “This is it. Let’s get you all James Bonded.”
Scott unfastened his seat belt. “So you’re in the business of cummerbunds and seating arrangements now? I ran into your old neighbor Richie Carlisle a few months ago. He seemed to think you were training to be a police officer.”
“Private investigator.” Had Richie volunteered the update, or had Scott specifically asked about her? “I only took a couple of classes out of curiosity.” Prior to that, there’d been a brief stint as a salsa instructor. She’d lost that job when she’d socked a groping client in the shoulder.
Her lack of a career up to this point wasn’t surprising. The Nichols sisters had been raised to “follow their bliss.” Brooke, the younger sibling, was in her own way the family rebel. She’d always been cautiously conservative—perhaps
Meg had never expected her sister to ask her to be her niece’s godmother. “
Meg, potentially responsible for a baby? It had caused her to take a long, hard look at herself and make some changes.
Scott opened the door to the mall’s main entrance. As she passed him, she tried not to notice the heat from his body or the familiar smell of his soap.
She took a steadying breath. “You said you ran into Richie. Does that mean you’re still in Houston?”
“More or less. I work in a pediatric practice in one of the communities outside the city.”
“Exactly as you planned,” she said, glad for his success.
“Not ‘exactly.’” His voice was gruff.“ I’d pictured my life a little differently.”
Did he mean her and the future he’d wanted them to have? Meg’s chest tightened. They’d hit it off immediately, and their resulting affair had burned hot and quick. But their goals had ultimately been too different—or they would have been, if she’d
Well, she did now. At the top of that list was making this weekend magical for Lucy while at the same time proving herself to be a competent wedding planner to the Houston socialites in attendance. Which meant she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by Scott.
Meg reminded herself that Lucy had chosen her for good reason. Lucy came from a very wealthy family and had feared that if she had the wedding at home, her mom would have turned it into a three-ring circus of VIPs. Lucy had wanted a more intimate affair in the Hill Country, where Grant had proposed during their vacation last year. They were getting married on the first Saturday of February so that they would be in Paris—and past their jet lag—by Valentine’s Day.
Meg turned the corner with a sigh.
“Everything all right?” Scott asked.
“I just think Lucy and Grant are very lucky. I—” She broke off when the phone in her pants pocket began buzzing. “Better grab this. It’s from the church. Meg Nichols speaking.”
She frowned as the man on the other end launched into a string of apologies and garbled explanation. She was so startled by the news that it took her brain a moment to translate what she was hearing. “Wait! What do you mean they can’t have the wedding at the church?”
Scott watched in alarm as Meg went sheet-white. He hadn’t seen a woman look so close to fainting since his E.R. days when a young mother had brought in a five-year-old with a head wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.
Holding Meg’s elbow, he steered her toward a nearby bench. She’d disconnected the phone call, her expression stricken.
“I’m going out on a limb here—that wasn’t good news?” He tried for a joking tone, but it sounded flat. He remembered laughing all the time with Meg. She’d always been able to find the amusing and absurd in any situation, a welcome change from his occasionally grim shifts at the hospital. Now, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d really laughed. When had joking around with other people started to feel forced and unnatural? With kids, he could still tap into just enough silliness to calm their fears, but that was more bedside manner than an indication of who he really was.
“The church cancelled,” Meg said woodenly. “I can’t believe this! The weather finally warmed up a couple of degrees and
“Sometimes the worst damage comes when frozen pipes start to thaw,” he told her. “Places around here, where freezes are rare, aren’t as prepared as facilities up north.”
She blinked. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive about the damage to the church and the cleanup they’re facing, but Lucy’s wedding is the day after tomorrow! What am I going to do? She’s already a nervous wreck. How am I supposed to tell her this on top of everything else?”
Scott sat next to her. In another lifetime, he would have put his arm around her, pulled her into a comforting embrace. The temptation was there, but…getting that close to Meg, letting her past the wall of cool reserve that protected him? It would be like those frozen pipes that had started to thaw and then crack:
“You’re really taking this hard,” he observed, at a loss for what to say.
“It’s my job!”
“Your latest job.”
Color came back to her cheeks as she glared at him, brown eyes flashing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You do have a history of bailing when things get difficult, Meg.” The anger that washed through him caught him off guard. He hadn’t planned to get personal. But maybe he needed this closure, since the way she’d left him—and subsequently dodged his calls—hadn’t allowed him to properly say goodbye. She’d even quit the bakery, effectively disappearing from his life. “Are you sure you’re going to stick around and help Lucy through this? Wouldn’t it be easier just to wash your hands of the whole mess and leave her a note wishing her well?”
“I would never do that!”
His gaze clashed with hers, challenging.
Meg ducked her head, blushing with guilt even as she insisted, “Lucy can count on me.”
“Then you were right earlier. She is lucky.” He got to his feet. “A lot luckier than I was.”
By the time Meg caught up to Scott’s long-legged stride, he was inside the tux shop, explaining to a store employee why a change in the rental order was necessary. Meg took a seat in the waiting area and thumbed through a catalogue. But the glossy photos of grinning grooms and wedding guests only highlighted her problems.
Meg had been so startled by the pain and anger in Scott’s gaze that she’d almost forgotten about her client. She’d rarely seen him angry. He’d remained tolerant of patients even when they disregarded his sound medical advice and further injured themselves. He’d even seemed understanding when he’d first told Meg he loved her and she couldn’t quite bring herself to return the sentiment.
“No pressure,” he’d told her. “I just wanted you to know how I felt.” Yet once she had been able to admit that she did love him, he’d immediately started talking about marriage. How was that “no pressure”?
In retrospect, his pattern was clear. From coaxing her into staying the night after they’d made love, to seemingly casual comments that she would make a great mom someday, he’d always been subtly pushing her toward the future he wanted.
Perpetually unstable Meg, a wife and mother? Not likely. She would have been a bitter disappointment to him.
She glared down at the tuxedo brochure, where a newly married couple appeared inanely giddy with joy. “Stop looking so smug,” she grumbled. “You don’t know everything.” Not everyone rode the honeymoon limo into the fairy-tale sunset.
But if she had anything to say about it, Lucy and Grant sure as heck would!
Meg dropped the annoying catalogue and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Bertha Hoffman, their bed-and-breakfast owner who’d grown up in this area. Why not brainstorm possible solutions before telling the bride-to-be that there was a problem?