Gracie beamed at her. “Oh, my dear, isn’t this exciting? Everyone wants to ask me about you.”
The reporters were hurtling questions fast and furious. Janet dragged her mother and her male friend inside while Gage slammed the security door behind them. He hustled everyone toward the elevator and relieved Gracie of the heavy box in her arms.
“Janet, Gage,” Gracie said as the four of them entered Janet’s condo. “This is Sam Pinkerton.” She flashed the man beside her a smile.
Sam grinned back.
“How do you do, Dr. Hunter. It’s a great pleasure to meet you. You too, Dr. Gregory.” Sam set his box on the floor then shook their hands.
“And you are...?” Janet said, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t like the way Gracie kept glancing at the man. As if she couldn’t get enough of looking at him.
“Well, sweetie, it’s a surprising story.” Gracie blushed. “Sam and I used to know each other in high school, but his family moved away, and we lost touch. Imagine my surprise when I’m on social media last night, and lo-and-behold there was Sam with a private message for me. Turns out Sam’s a widower with three daughters. He took over his wife’s wedding planning business after she died. His oldest, Jenny, is due to deliver her first baby around Christmas.” She clapped her hands and finally took a breath. “Isn’t this fantastic?”
Sam was Gracie’s high school sweetheart? Her mother had said as little, but the fact that Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Gracie gave their secret away.
“We’ve brought along samples of his work.” Gracie showed the boxes with a flourish. “You wouldn’t believe the choices. You can have a Renaissance wedding where everyone comes in costume and speaks Old English. Or you can get married in a hot-air balloon over the ocean. Or you can tie the knot on a carousel in an amusement park.”
“Mother, I don’t mean to be rude to Mr. Pinkerton, but this isn’t the time or the place. We’re not getting married in 17th century England, nor in a hot-air balloon gondola on a ride at Six Flags.”
“I think in your enthusiasm you’ve overwhelmed the young people, Gracie,” Sam Pinkerton said. “Perhaps they need more time.”
“You’re right, Sam.” Gracie blushed prettily. “I do have a tendency to get carried away with a project.”
Understatement of the century.
Janet could only stare, openmouthed. She’d never seen her mother curbed so easily. What was going on here?
Sam smiled. “Your wedding can be as simple or as elaborate as you wish. Obviously, with all the goings-on downstairs, you’re not in the mood to talk wedding arrangements right now. I’ll just leave my portfolio and you can look through it at your convenience.”
“Can’t we at least just show them the fabulous honeymoon suite at that resort in Australia?” Gracie asked.
“All in good time.” Sam touched her arm tenderly.
Janet noticed how similar they looked. Both short of stature, both with auburn hair and identical smiles. Like matching bookends.
Amazing.
What was the world coming to? Paparazzi chasing her in the park. Her father asking her to dinner. Her mother reunited with an old ...flame? And then there was Gage, who kept kissing her as if he really meant it.
Her world had skittered helter-skelter out of check, and she didn’t know how to regain control. It was all too much to absorb.
“Everybody,” she said. “Please. I need to be alone.”
During the freak show that followed the broadcasting of their “engagement,” work was Janet’s only salvation. She kept busy, offering to take on extra duties just to keep her mind occupied and her body out of the cramped office she shared with Gage.
On Monday, she had gone to dinner with her father, and then on to pick out invitations to the engagement party. She tried to work up the courage to tell her father the truth about the engagement, but for the first time in her life he’d spoken to her as an equal and she couldn’t find the right words.
On Tuesday, the crowd of reporters grew larger, eager for a glimpse of the woman who’d stolen Gage Gregory’s heart. She wore dark sunglasses, kept her head down, and repeatedly muttered “no comment” whenever someone thrust a microphone in her face. If this was fame, give her anonymity any old day. No wonder Gage bolted from Hollywood.
“Morning, Dr. Hunter,” Annie, the receptionist, greeted her on Wednesday morning when she stopped by the front desk to pick up her messages.
“Umm, thanks.”
“You’ve broken all the nurses’ hearts, dontcha know. Snapping up the sexiest bachelor doctor to ever these hallways.”
Yeah, well, tell them to dry their weeping eyes, he’ll be back on the market soon enough.
Why did that idea strike her as dismal? She didn’t want a proper engagement with Gage.
Did she?
Perish the thought, rational voice said.
Why? impish voice asked. Can you think of anyone more sumptuous to be engaged to?
She’d rather not be engaged to anyone, rational voice responded condescendingly. She’s a smart, independent doctor. She doesn’t need a man to complete her, you ninny.
Hey, there’s no reason to call me names just because she listens to you more than she does me.
Not lately she doesn’t.
Maybe that’s because she’s beginning to realize you 're no fun.
Janet shook her head to clear her mind of her internal warring factions and held out her palm to Annie. “Messages?”
“Oh, you’ve got a bucket load of them.” Annie reached under her desk and produced a fat manila envelope stuffed to bursting with scraps of paper.
“Are these messages all from patients?”
Annie shook her head. “Nope.”
“The media.” She sighed.
“Yep, and one message from your mother. She’s got a special tea she wants you to try. Apparently, it helps with fertility.”
Mother! For pity’s sake. “If she calls again, tell her I’m too busy to talk.”
“What about these others?”
Janet sighed. “I don’t want this media frenzy to affect our work. Only forward me information dealing with patient care.” She waved a hand at the pile. “You can throw the
