Prognosis: Romance Read online

  An old adage popped suddenly into her head. Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

  “I’m glad you like it,” she said lightly. “I hope you find a place to put it. Rustic country doesn’t exactly fit in with your modern decor.”

  But then, neither did she, she thought with a twinge of self-pity she immediately rejected. She must be more tired than usual after a hectic week and a long, busy day.

  “Actually…” James set the little painting on the table and reached out to snag a hand around her waist. He pulled her toward him, his lips only an inch from hers when he finished, “I think it fits in perfectly.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she melted into his kiss. If this was the only way she could truly communicate with James in the short time they had left together, then she would take full advantage.

  Shannon was not looking forward to Sunday brunch with James’s parents, and she suspected she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it from him. She gave him an anemic-feeling smile as they approached the glass door into the lobby of the upscale downtown Little Rock hotel where they would meet the elder Stillmans. “I’ve heard the Sunday brunch here is amazing, though I’ve never tried it. Have you?”

  “Yeah, a couple of times. It’s good,” he acknowledged. “Don’t look so nervous, Shannon, it will be fine. We won’t stay all that long.”

  She smoothed a hand somewhat nervously down the front of the green skirt she had worn with a matching cami and a fitted, three-quarter-sleeve patterned jacket. She’d dithered over what to wear for longer than was her usual custom, finally settling on a new fall outfit that she considered nice enough to be respectful yet casual enough that she didn’t look overdone. Or at least, that was the effect she was going for.

  She had pinned back her red curls and covered a few freckles with a light touch of makeup, but she’d finally made herself stop fussing over her appearance. She doubted that his parents were going to make up their minds about her based on what she wore.

  “I’m not even sure why I’m here,” she said in a low voice to James as they crossed the carpeted lobby toward the elevators. “I mean, you and I are just friends. They understand that, right?”

  “Of course,” he replied a little too smoothly. “And I’ve got to be honest with you, I asked you along mostly because you have a talent for keeping a conversation moving. My parents and I run out of things to say to each other after a few minutes and it gets rather dull. You are never dull.”

  Maybe he was being uncharacteristically frank—or maybe he was trying to set her at ease with a little teasing. She laughed softly. “Well, thanks a lot. If you’d told me you brought me along to provide entertainment during the meal, I’d have prepared some ice-breaker games.”

  “My parents never play games,” he assured her with exaggerated solemnity. “They would consider that a frivolous waste of their valuable time.”

  “You aren’t making me feel any better about this.”

  “Sorry. Just want you to be prepared. My family is pretty much the opposite of yours.”

  That was hardly a surprise, she thought, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors swished open.

  Upon meeting the professors Stillman, her first thought was that James resembled his mother more than his father. Melissa Stillman was tall, her dark hair highlighted with natural gray streaks that looked good on her, her eyes the same gleaming ebony as her son’s. The same features that made James so strikingly attractive were a bit too blunt for his mother’s face, giving her a slightly intimidating appearance, even though she smiled politely enough when James introduced them.

  Bruce Stillman was a couple of inches shorter than his wife and several inches shorter than his son, his frame compact and wiry in comparison to James’s more elegant build. His thin hair was completely gray. His face was rather gauntly carved, with a somewhat prominent nose upon which he propped a pair of half-glasses he peered over when he studied Shannon. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Gambill.”

  “Please call me Shannon, Dr. Stillman.”

  He nodded, apparently content with the more formal address for himself. Glancing at his watch, he motioned toward the two chairs he and his wife had saved for them at the white-linen-topped table. “We expected you a little earlier. We’ll have to eat quickly, I’m afraid. Melissa and I have several meetings scheduled for this afternoon.”

  “We were right on time, Dad,” James murmured, but his father pretended not to hear.

  Oh, yeah, Shannon thought with a complete absence of appetite. This was going to be loads of fun.

  “So,” James said as they drove away from the hotel only a little more than an hour later, “I thought that went very well. My parents seemed to enjoy the meal. I had a good time.”

  Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, Shannon was unusually subdued, though she nodded agreeably. “Yes, it was quite nice. The food was as good as I’ve heard.”

  He had noticed she’d barely touched her meal, a marked contrast to her usual healthy appetite. He’d attributed her lack of appetite to self-consciousness with his parents. He supposed that was understandable under the circumstances, even for someone as naturally confident and ebullient as Shannon.

  Still, he decided, it had been a very civil meal. His mother had expressed interest in Shannon’s business venture, and his dad—who fancied himself an expert in economics as in most other fields—had even offered a few words of advice about marketing and financial outlooks for small businesses like hers.

  They’d asked a few questions about the surprise party James’s friends had thrown for him the night before and his mother had thanked Shannon for sending an e-mail invitation to her university account inviting them to attend. James hadn’t realized until then that Shannon had gone to the trouble of tracking them down and asking them. He could easily imagine the formally courteous response she had gotten from them conveying their regrets that they had other obligations for that evening. And he was sure there had been other obligations. His parents kept their calendars full of meetings and lectures and academic gatherings for months in advance. They would not change their plans at the last minute for anything as relatively unimportant as a surprise party for their thirty-year-old son.

  On the whole, his parents had been quite pleasant, chatting about their colleagues, their research, their plans for a summer trip to Krakow. They’d been on their best behavior with Shannon, to his relief. He’d seen them go cold and condescending in the past with a few women he’d dated and of whom they had thoroughly disapproved. Though they’d treated Shannon with their usual reserve and slight wariness of young women who’d attracted their son’s interest, they must not have seen anything in her that had roused antipathy. And really, why should they? He figured even his admittedly elitist parents could see that Shannon was a good person and that he was proud to count her as a friend.

  They had wished James success in his upcoming trips, making him promise to stay in touch. He knew they were still rather disappointed that he’d chosen to go into medical practice, but they made it clear they hoped he would continue to research and publish once he entered his chosen field. He assured them that was his plan. Just because he wanted to put his skills to practical application did not mean he’d lost all interest in the study of science, he’d added with a faint smile they had acknowledged with wry glances.

  When his parents had glanced at their watches simultaneously, James had taken the signal that they were impatient to move on to their next appointment. He had kissed his mother’s cheek and shaken hands with his father, promising to call them the following week from Seattle. They had both shaken hands with Shannon, telling her how pleased they were to have met her. There was no mention of possible future meetings.

  All in all, not so bad, he summarized, quickly replaying the entire encounter in his mind. So he had no idea why Shannon was still so atypically quiet.

  “Now that we have that behind us, what would you like to do for the rest o
f the day?” he asked, hoping to divert her.

  “I thought I mentioned that I have a meeting with a potential client later this afternoon. It’s a big bash, very high profile. If I get the job, it will be a huge boost for Kid Capers.”

  “Yes, you did mention a meeting, but I thought it was still several hours away.”

  “I’ve got a few hours, but I need to use that time to go over my presentation. I enjoyed meeting your parents,” she added in a blatantly polite fib, “but I guess we’d better call it a day when you drop me off.”

  “I see.”

  She had told him about the meeting, he reminded himself. She’d even mentioned that it would be the biggest event she had ever organized if she landed the deal, a sweet-sixteen party for the twin daughters of a prominent Little Rock family. The event was still almost six months away, but she’d assured him it would take that long to put it all together. This had seemed a little excessive to him—how could it possibly take that long to plan a birthday party?—but he’d merely told her that he had complete faith in her ability to convince the client to hire her.

  He hadn’t realized she would send him on his way long before her meeting was scheduled to begin.

  “Maybe I could help you in some way?” he suggested, stalling for more time with her. “You could make your presentation to me, if you like—you know, a practice session.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve got it under control.”

  “I could—”

  “I’ve got it, James.”

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel on a surge of irritation, the first time he’d actually been annoyed with Shannon. There was no need for her to snap at him just for offering to help, he thought, aggrieved. Especially since he’d be in town only a few more days before he had to leave for the month in Seattle.

  “Thanks again for the offer, though,” she added as though she was aware that she’d sounded a little short.

  “Sure.” He pulled into her driveway. “Looks like your roommate is here, so I won’t come in. Maybe you could call me later and let me know how your meeting goes?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m sure you’ll impress them. Break a leg.”

  She laughed a little more naturally and leaned over to exchange a quick kiss with him. “Thanks. And don’t bother getting out, I’m just going to run in and get started. See you, James.”

  See you. There was something very vague and unsatisfying about those words, he thought, glancing into his rearview mirror as he drove away from her house.

  He realized abruptly that he’d had no idea what had been going through Shannon’s mind when she had sent him away.

  “So?” Devin followed Shannon from the front door to Shannon’s bedroom, almost vibrating with curiosity. “How was brunch with James’s parents?”

  Shannon groaned and tossed her purse onto her bed. “It was a nightmare. A horrible, sixty-minute ordeal that felt as though it lasted for days.”

  “Oh, man.” Sympathy softening her face, Devin shook her head. “Were they horrible to you?”

  “Oh, no. They were very polite. Extremely polite.”

  Devin winced. “Why does that not sound good the way you say it?”

  “Because it wasn’t good. Honestly, Dev, they had all the warmth of a couple of glaciers. They treat James as though he were an acquaintance they like, but don’t know very well—and he seems to think that’s perfectly normal! They exchange pleasantries and everyone waits until the other is finished speaking before replying, rather than all talking at once like my family.”

  She pushed a hand through her formerly tidy hair, dislodging pins and releasing a cascade of wild curls. “Occasionally, their conversation veers into politics or obscure literary references and their idea of a joke is a barbed quote from Churchill or Oscar Wilde or some other satirist I’ve never even heard of. Dr. Stillman—the mother—dropped some comment about her university students being her salvation and her despair, and Drs. Stillman—the father and son—chuckled as though she’d just told a hilarious joke. I tittered like I had any clue what was so funny, but I felt like an idiot.”

  “‘They gave her the means of supporting life, but they made life hardly worth supporting.’ P. G. Wodehouse,” Devin murmured.

  Shannon whirled on her. “How do you know that?”

  “Sorry, I did a paper about him in school. For some reason that quote stuck with me, because it reminded me of my English teacher…but that’s not important now,” Devin said hastily. “Do you think they liked you?”

  “Well, let’s see. When I told them my business is throwing birthday parties for children, they said something along the lines of, ‘How droll.’ Dr. Stillman, the father, suggested I hire a financial advisor to keep me from succumbing to the bankruptcy perils that cause most small businesses to fail. When I added that I work part-time at a toy store to help pay my bills while I establish my business, they merely blinked at me as if trying to figure out what a ‘toy’ might be.”

  “Now, Shannon, don’t exaggerate.”

  Shannon clasped her hands to her head, which had been aching a bit during brunch and was pounding in earnest now. “You should have seen the looks they gave me when they asked where I obtained my degree.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Right. I told them I never finished college and I might as well have said I dropped out of junior high. People like them, with all their advanced degrees, can’t imagine having no more than a high-school education. I’m sure they’re secretly thrilled that James is leaving town in a few days and I won’t be going with him.”

  “They don’t really sound like your kind of people, but it is possible that you’re overreacting, Shannon. They probably liked you just fine, everyone does. Maybe they just have trouble conversing with people they don’t know, especially someone so much younger than themselves. From what I understand, it’s always awkward meeting your kid’s friends, especially…well, intimate friends.”

  “Trust me, it was more than that. I could tell they thought I was completely wrong for their son.”

  “Then they’re nuts,” Devin said loyally. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter what they think, anyway. James is the only one whose opinion of you counts.”

  “James?” Shannon dropped her arms and planted her fists on her hips. “You want to know what James thought?”

  “Uh—”

  “He thought it went very well. He thought his parents enjoyed meeting me. He had a great time.”

  Grimacing, Devin muttered, “Well, it is his family. I’m sure he loves them. And he probably enjoyed introducing you to them.”

  Maybe, Shannon thought glumly, but as far as she was concerned, that meal had only served as proof that she and James were completely mismatched.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re breaking up with me?”

  Shannon wrapped her arms tightly around her middle and faced James in her living room Monday evening, speaking lightly in answer to his displeased question. This was hardly the way she had hoped the after-dinner conversation she’d initiated would proceed. Perhaps she had hoped—dreaded?—that he would agree their impulsive affair had run its course, that he would be somewhat relieved she was the one bringing it to an amicable end so he didn’t have to.

  “It’s hardly a breakup, James. That would imply we had more than a casual friendship to start with. And I still consider you a friend, by the way.”

  “A friend you never want to see again.” His face was set in hard lines, making his eyes look like glittering onyx from beneath lowered brows.

  She released a sharp sigh. “I didn’t say I never want to see you again.”

  “You said, specifically…”

  “You don’t have to quote my exact words back to me with that fancy photo memory of yours,” she cut in somewhat peevishly. “Essentially, what I said was, I don’t think we should try to keep anything going between us after you leave for Seattle. You’ll be out of the state for two straight months—�
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  “I’ll be home for one weekend in between the two months.”

  “You’ll basically be out of the state for two straight months,” she amended impatiently. “You’ll be flying all over the country in December and January interviewing for residency programs. In March and April you’ll be doing more rotations here, which—”

  “I’m well aware of my schedule.”

  “—which will keep you very busy, after which you’ll have graduation and then you’ll be moving a few weeks after that to start your internship,” she continued doggedly, speaking over him.

  This was more the style of conversation she was used to than the stuffy back-and-forth comments his family exchanged, she thought fleetingly. And though James might be more accustomed to his family’s patterns, he was keeping up pretty well with hers.

  “And all of that has what exactly to do with why you don’t want to see me again?” he asked, his cool tone the only real sign of his agitation apart from the frown that creased his eyebrows.

  “Would you stop saying that? I’m sure we’ll see each other again someday. I would always enjoy hearing from you. Maybe we’ll get together for dinner sometime before you graduate and you can tell me all about the great residency I’m sure you’ll get into. Maybe I’ll come to your graduation—I would enjoy that.”

  “Well, isn’t that friendly and congenial.”

  She felt her eyes widen a bit in response to what she would almost call a savage edge to his voice now. It sounded so unlike James. “I’m just—”

  He looked at his watch. “I’d better go. I have some packing to do.”

  He wouldn’t leave for another three days, so she doubted that it would take him all that long to pack. “James, I hope you aren’t leaving angry.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” he asked flatly, turning toward the door. “Just ask anyone who knows me. I don’t get angry. Or hurt or lonely or insulted or just plain old pissed off. We Stillmans believe such unseemly emotions are beneath us.”