Prognosis: Romance Page 7

  “Was your former boyfriend—the one before Dr. Philip Smith—also a doctor? Or a dentist?”

  “No. Greg was my high-school boyfriend. Captain of the football team, class vice president, leader of the popular crowd—you know the type. We were engaged for a couple of years after graduation while he went to a small, state college on a football scholarship after it turned out he wasn’t quite good enough to play for any of the big schools. I took a few classes but never decided on a major, and then I tried a couple of unsuccessful jobs in search of an identity other than Greg’s girlfriend and personal cheerleader. He dumped me for someone else when I stopped letting my life revolve entirely around him.”

  She lifted her glass to her lips again, more to shut herself up than because she particularly wanted another sip. She always tended to babble, she admitted freely—a Gambill family flaw—but something about James made her blab even more than usual. Maybe it was because he revealed so little of himself either in words or expressions, and she seemed to need to fill the silences between them with her own revelations.

  Besides, she told herself with an attempt at rationalization, he had asked why she was so leery of take-charge men. She was merely answering him honestly.

  “So, ignoring your earlier relationship, on the basis of one bad experience with a pompous dentist, you’ve sworn off all doctors as potential friends?”

  Now she was the one to shift in her seat. He made it sound so petty when he phrased it that way. “That’s not exactly what I said.”

  “What you said, exactly, is ‘doctors are accustomed to giving orders and having them followed without question. Making decisions on behalf of other people. Telling people what’s good for them.’ Apparently, you’re basing all that conjecture on your brief relationship with Dr. Smith.”

  She blinked a couple of times before saying, “Eidetic memory?”

  “Just good recall. But you still haven’t responded to what I asked.”

  The man was as tenacious as a pit bull. Totally focused on solving the puzzle of why she’d concluded she wouldn’t date doctors. “You really are a scientist, aren’t you?”

  He frowned. “I’m just trying to understand.”

  “I’m not really accustomed to discussing my dating history with virtual strangers.”

  As he eyed her over the rim of his cup she felt her cheeks warm.

  “You started this conversation. You approached me in the parking lot of the restaurant and then invited me to join you here for coffee so we could discuss your reasons for turning down my dinner invitation,” he said.

  “Oh. I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

  His gaze lingered on her wry smile in a way that had her reaching hastily for her iced drink. She suddenly felt a little too warm.

  But his voice was bland when he said, “You don’t have to apologize. Though I am curious as to why you felt the need to explain your reasoning for turning down my invitation. All you had to say was no. I realize I asked twice, but I got the message the second time. I wouldn’t have asked again.”

  “I know. It’s just—well, I hurt your feelings in the toy store, when I said you made me nervous. I really hate hurting people. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t anything about you personally, just my own hang-ups.”

  “You thought you hurt my feelings.”

  “I know I did.”

  “Interesting.”

  She tilted her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Picking up his cup again, he murmured, “You’re very intuitive. Most people don’t—”

  He drowned the rest of the sentence in another sip of espresso.

  She had a feeling she knew what he’d started to say. Most people probably had a hard time reading his feelings, hurt or otherwise. He did seem to keep them well hidden. Was that a deliberate choice or just the way he was? Either way, it was another difference between them. Everyone always claimed her face revealed her every thought. Well, those thoughts she hadn’t already expressed verbally, she added with a mental wince.

  “So you think I’m pompous,” he said, lowering his cup. “But you don’t want to hurt my feelings about it because it’s simply your personal hang-up that you don’t date pompous men.”

  Startled, she shook her head. “I didn’t say you were pompous. I’ve never seen you behave that way at all.”

  “Just a bossy, take-charge doctor-to-be, is that it?”

  She struggled against a smile in response to his politely interested tone. “Well, you did pay for my coffee, even though I said you shouldn’t. It starts with those little things.”

  He nodded. “Forgive me. Next time, the coffee’s on you.”

  Her smile broke through. “It’s a deal.”

  “So? When is the next time?”

  Oh, wait. What had she just agreed to? “Um—”

  “You have to say yes. You owe me a cup of coffee,” he reminded her.

  The totally unexpected glint of mischief in his dark eyes was nearly her undoing. If he was so totally wrong for her, would she really find him this appealing?

  “I’d drive you crazy,” she warned.

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But, unlike you, I don’t make up my mind before giving something a chance.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Ouch.”

  He looked a bit surprised that the words had escaped him, even though he’d obviously been teasing a little. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I like it that you have a bit of a snippy side. I was beginning to wonder if you’re just too perfect to be real.”

  Now he was frowning again. “Um—”

  Rather pleased with herself, she reached for her purse. “I’m going to browse through the books for a while. Thanks for the coffee, James. I’ll be seeing you.”

  “When?”

  Smiling over her shoulder, she replied, “I’ll let you know. Good night.”

  She was aware that he watched her as she left the coffee shop and disappeared into the book racks. She added a little extra sway to her walk just for good measure.

  All in all, she decided, that encounter had gone pretty well.

  Nine days after his impromptu coffee date with Shannon, James was still trying to determine what, exactly, had been decided between them. He thought she’d agreed to see him again—if only for a cup of coffee—but she’d left so abruptly, without anything being planned for certain, that he still wasn’t sure she intended to follow through. He hadn’t heard from her since, but that hadn’t kept her from popping into his head surprisingly often, considering he’d met her only three weeks before and had seen her only twice since.

  He debated attending the Hayes party because he certainly didn’t want to cause any awkwardness there. He decided to go for several reasons, primarily because he didn’t want to miss one of the remaining opportunities to spend time with his friends. And he couldn’t deny that he wanted to see Shannon again, even though they probably wouldn’t have much chance to talk in private.

  He couldn’t say, exactly, why he was so intrigued by Shannon. With her red curls and dimpled, lightly-freckled face, she was cute—enchantingly cute—but not the Hollywood model of striking beauty. But then he tended to think some of those too-perfect faces looked rather cold and boring.

  Her artless, outspoken manner of speaking often took him aback. He never knew exactly what she was going to say next or sometimes how to interpret what she’d already said. But he’d always been intrigued by a puzzle.

  Her background couldn’t be any more different from his own. Her freewheeling, noisy, demonstrative family would probably find his parents stodgy and reserved and intellectually elitist—which, of course, they were. He loved his parents, as much as they would let him, but he was fascinated by Shannon’s family.

  She hadn’t exactly encouraged him to pursue her—just the opposite, in fact. Which was also a rather refreshing chance, he admitted ruefully. Without undue conceit, he was aware he was considered a “great catch.” He had decent looks, money
and a future in a profession many considered to be socially advantageous. The past few women he’d dated hadn’t done a very good job of hiding their interest in all of those things, though he wasn’t sure any of them had been particularly interested in the man behind those assets.

  Shannon seemed to be wary of the very traits that drew others to him. A march-in, take-charge kind of guy, he paraphrased her assessment of him. He’d never seen himself in that light and he thought she exaggerated, for the most part. But he could concede he probably came across that way sometimes. He had been trained to exude confidence and competence, both of which came naturally to him in a way that expressing doubt and vulnerability did not.

  Perhaps she was right to be skeptical. Perhaps the differences between them were too great even to consider pursuing more than a casual friendship. He had to admit, the convoluted romantic history she had so candidly revealed to him in the coffee shop had taken him aback. But then again, all he’d done at this point was ask her to dinner. Whether a shared meal would lead to anything more was anyone’s guess.

  He was greeted at the door of the Hayes house by Anne Easton, who was filling in on hosting duty while Mia and Connor checked in on the kids’ party that had started half an hour earlier. Pretty, petite blonde Anne smiled when James brushed a kiss across her cheek in greeting. “It’s good to see you, Anne.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” Her tone was just a little wistful. “I miss getting together as often as we used to.”

  “Is Liam here?”

  She beamed. “He is. Come in and say hi. He’s heading out again next week.”

  The football game was already playing on the TV in the den, and the adults assembled there kept an eye on the action as they sat and talked or milled around the table where an assortment of snacks and beverages were temptingly arranged. A birthday cake for Mia sat in the place of honor in the center of the table, uncut as of yet.

  Setting his gift for Alexis and a smaller present for Mia on a side table with a few other wrapped packages, James greeted Liam, Anne’s globe-trotting adventurer husband, then exchanged hellos with Ron and Haley. They all encouraged him to fill a plate and join them to view the game. He didn’t share their enthusiasm for the sport, but he would enjoy watching with his friends, anyway. A few other friends of Mia and Connor’s were there. James acknowledged the ones he’d met in the past and introduced himself to the ones he hadn’t, working the room with the ease of a lifetime of experience with social situations.

  He heard faint strains of music and children’s voices coming from beyond the kitchen door that led out to the backyard. For Alexis’s sake, he was glad the weather had cooperated with the outdoor party plans. It was a beautiful early September day, warm but not stiflingly so, a few small clouds drifting like puffy white birthday balloons across the rich blue sky.

  Shannon was out there with that party. He hoped it was going well, for her sake and for Alexis. Maybe he could just peek out in a few minutes and see for himself.

  Mia and Connor entered the room at that moment. Mia carried a small digital camera and both were smiling. Judging from their expressions, James decided the kids’ party was going well. He was the only one who had arrived while they were outside, so they greeted him with pleasure.

  “Alexis gave us the sign that she wanted us to stop taking pictures and come inside to play with our own friends,” Connor said with a laugh. “Shannon has the ten girls busy with handcrafts. They’re having a great time.”

  “Thank you for recommending her, James,” Mia added. “She’s delightful. The kids love her. I think she could handle three times as many as we have out there without any problems.”

  “She’s very organized,” Connor agreed. “She and an assistant arrived this morning with decorations, folding tables, chairs and all the supplies needed for the activities. She supplied everything but the cake, and she would have arranged that, too, if we’d asked.”

  “I wanted to make and decorate the cake,” Mia admitted with a self-conscious smile. “It made me feel like I was putting at least some effort into the party, even though I didn’t have time to do anything else.”

  “It’s a beautiful cake,” Anne assured Mia. “I saw it when I arrived. You did such a nice job piping the purple accents onto the pink frosting.”

  Anne glanced at James then. “One of those small-world things—Shannon’s assistant is a CNA at the hospital. Her name’s Devin Caswell. I saw her leaving just as I arrived and we recognized each other because I just rotated through the post-op wing. Do you know her?”

  James shook his head. Shannon hadn’t mentioned even having an assistant, much less that she worked in his field. “No, as far as I know, I haven’t met her. But I haven’t spent much time in post-op.”

  “I think I’ll hire Shannon for McKenzie’s party, too,” one of Mia’s friends said, overhearing the conversation. “McKenzie wants a karaoke party, of all things. A rock-star-diva theme. I bet Shannon could arrange that.”

  “I’m sure she could,” Mia replied. “The girls would love that.”

  “My nephew has a birthday coming up in a couple of months,” Anne mused aloud. “I’ll mention Shannon’s services to my sister-in-law next time I see her.”

  James was pleased that Shannon was doing so well today. He’d like to think he’d helped her establish her business a bit more. Of course, had she not done a good job for Mia, there would be no enthusiastic endorsements to encourage the others.

  He was even more tempted now to steal a peek at her at work.

  Shannon loved the chattering and giggling of the little girls surrounding her in the Hayes’s tidy backyard. Kids having fun—that was the purpose of the business she’d put so much of her heart and soul into during the past months.

  Devin had followed her here earlier to help set up before leaving to take care of other responsibilities that day. Together, they had decorated the area with pink and purple helium-filled balloons tied to every available anchor, and with a birthday banner Shannon had painted and hand-lettered stretched between two trees that shaded the Hayes family’s picnic table. Though simple, the bobbing balloons and glittering sign, along with cheery paper lanterns in the tree branches, provided a festive backdrop for the event. And the birthday girl’s parents hadn’t had to do a thing to help, leaving them free to prepare for their other guests inside.

  A pink-and-purple birthday cake decorated by Alexis’s mom sat in the center of the picnic table, next to a bowl of frothy pink, fruit-flavored punch Shannon had brought with her. She had provided purple plastic dessert dishes and stemmed plastic goblets, arranged two big bouquets of inexpensive but colorful mixed flowers and scattered pink and purple faux gems across the frilly pink tablecloth. The table looked lovely, if she did say so herself, and the girls seemed suitably impressed. Shannon had even dressed to coordinate with the theme, wearing a rich purple top with nice jeans and purple ballet-style flats—casual and comfortable enough for her active role, but still flattering and stylish.

  Alexis was a sweetheart. Bubbly and gregarious, she was generous with her guests, happily sharing the attention and the goodies. Shannon always began her parties with the gift-opening part. She liked the guests to leave with memories of fun and camaraderie rather than any natural jealousies over the birthday child’s presents.

  Once the gifts were opened, it was time for the activities. Ten little girls, while noisy and excitable, cooperated eagerly with Shannon’s agenda. She had brought two folding crafts tables and ten small folding chairs. The girls squealed in anticipation when Shannon opened several boxes of crafts supplies they could use to decorate the ten unbleached muslin tote bags she’d brought along. She’d provided a colorful assortment of fabric markers, gingham bows, silk flowers, big buttons and glittering plastic “gems” to be attached with a rapid-drying fabric glue. The gems matched the princessy theme of the party, not too young for nine-year-olds, but just glam enough to spark their imaginations.

  With a glitter
ing, faux-jewel-enhanced birthday tiara perched on her light brown hair, Alexis flitted around the crafts tables, admiring everyone else’s handiwork so much that she sometimes neglected her own. Twice Shannon guided her gently back to her chair, promising she would assist anyone who needed help while Alexis finished her own project.

  Shannon supervised their work closely, but subtly, making sure the crafters weren’t so liberal in their application of the adhesive that it would take too long to dry. The glue would set while the girls ate birthday cake and played a few games afterward. She’d brought lots of fun, inexpensive trinkets for game prizes, and she would make sure everyone left with something in addition to the party favors Mrs. Hayes had requested.

  Of all the jobs Shannon had sampled during the past ten years or so, since she was old enough to drive herself to fill out employment applications, this business was the one she enjoyed the most. She’d worked in childcare and banking, had considered teaching and designing, even tried her hand at landscaping—but this, she thought, was the best thing she’d found thus far.

  For the first time in her life, she felt like an independent adult. Living on her own income, renting a house with her equally independent friend, not accountable to her parents or a bossy boyfriend for how she spent her time or money. And she was running her own business, doing something she enjoyed and was good at.

  Too bad she couldn’t actually make a living at it. At least, not yet, she thought optimistically.

  Standing to one side of the crafts tables, she laughed when one of the girls, Camryn, bragged over a particularly well-placed flower, which the other girls immediately copied on their own bags. There was a brief, tense moment when Camryn pouted over being copied, but Shannon quickly stepped in to congratulate her on providing such clever inspiration. Camryn decided to be flattered.

  Shannon glanced at her watch. “Okay, everyone, five more minutes. We’ll let the bags dry while we have cake and ice cream and then play a few games.”