“That’s great. We’ll forget all about what happened this morning on your terrace.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “No one here ever need know about it.”
Gage dusted his palms together. “Now that we’ve settled that, do you want first dibs on a desk?”
“I’ll take this one. If that’s all right with you.” She fingered the desk she was standing beside.
Bizarrely enough, Gage wished he was that slab of hard wood, wishing those long, tapered fingers were strumming over his skin, wishing he could…
He glanced innocently at her fingernails—painted a subtle shade of pearl pink—then not so innocent, his gaze traveled up the curve of her arm to her shoulder, down that long neck, to where the clinging fabric of her dress cleaved to the soft swell of her breasts.
Crash! Bam! Boom!
Wayward thoughts collided in his head, piling up like patients in the waiting room during flu season.
Knock it off, Gregory. The lady’s obviously not interested in you for whatever reason, and besides, you’ve got a practice to establish. She’s right to lay down ground rules. It would be disastrous to get involved with your colleague.
Silence stretched between them for a long moment, then Janet spoke. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“How come you gave up practicing plastic surgery in Hollywood—which I assume was lucrative, not to mention glitzy—to become a pediatrician in Texas of all places?”
Gage shrugged. He’d grown accustomed to the question. Hardly anyone understood why he’d turned his back on Hollywood and the prestige of his plastic surgery practice. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Staying ‘on’ can get to be a hassle.”
“Oh, right. Limousines and lobsters, beautiful babes in bikinis, courtside tickets to Lakers’ games... Sounds really heinous.”
“You want to know the real reason?”
She nodded.
“Honestly? It bored me. All that stuff might sound great, and I suppose it is at first. But celebrity gets old quick. I discovered I really enjoyed working with kids. They’re so real, you know. Nothing false or flashy about them.”
“Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way. Children keep us grounded in a way nothing else can.”
The sound of a throat being cleared drew their attention to the door. A UPS delivery man stood in the archway, a small brown package under one arm, a clipboard under the other.
“Dr. Hunter?” He looked from Janet to Gage and back again.
“That’s me.” She stepped forward and signed for the package.
The UPS man departed. Janet took a seat behind the desk and stared suspiciously at the package.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Gage ventured.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re looking at it like you expect the thing to explode.”
“It’s from my mother.”
“The mother you suspected of sending a naked man to your terrace?”
“She’s the only mother I’ve got.” Janet sighed.
“What about your father? Can’t he corral your mother’s matchmaking?”
“My parents divorced when I was three. My father has never been a big part of my life. It’s been just Mom and me. I feel obligated to tolerate her little eccentricities.”
“You’d think after a rocky marriage herself she’d embrace your free and single life.”
“You’d think,” Janet echoed. “But Gracie is an eternal optimist. Nothing keeps her down for long. Guess that’s why I’m more the half-empty type. Someone has to balance her out.”
“Would you like me to open the package for you?” he teasingly offered. “Just in case good old Mom shrink-wrapped some poor schmuck and mailed him to you?”
“No!” She tried to look scandalized, but he could tell she was struggling hard to keep from laughing.
Ah, now that’s the way he liked to see her.
“I’m just going to go over here and sit at my desk and review patient charts. If you find you do need help, just give a holler.”
“Whatever,” Janet muttered, turning her attention to the package and frowning darkly at it.
What now, Mother?
Was it a ticket to her favorite play? If she went, would she find herself seated next to some dorky guy with Coke-bottle glasses, a master’s degree in computer science, and a plethora of food allergies? Not that she was judging such a fine fellow, it was just that she herself was on the nerdy side and needed someone more extroverted to balance her out.
Maybe it would be a membership in a singles club where the members drank too much, touched too freely, and whined about how there were “no good ones left.”
Was it an invitation to another How-to-Get-Married-in-a-Month seminar stuffed to the rafters with desperate, man-hungry single women?
She groaned and laid her head on her desk. This shouldn’t be happening. Not today.
“Just open it.” Gage tossed his Swiss Army knife on her desk. “The suspense is killing me.”
Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Might as well get this over with. Janet sat up straight, unsheathed the knife blade, and clipped the string. She peeled back the brown paper wrapping to reveal a small white box. Hands trembling, she removed the lid.
A small gold pin winked up at her. She lifted it out and held it to the light.
“What have you got there?” Gage squinted and leaned across his desk for a closer look.
“Saint Jude.”
“Ah, what a thoughtful gift. The patron saint of hospitals. Fitting.”
And lost causes.
Her mother considered her a lost cause. Was that what this was all about? How encouraging. She searched the box and found a small piece of paper. She unfolded the note. It smelled like lavender. Like her mother. Sweet, flowery, romantic.
Dearest Darling Daughter,
I’m sending you this pin to wear to your charity event next Friday night. Nadine told me that if you wear this, you’ll meet the man of your dreams within the week. Please, darling, wear it.
I want nothing more than to see you happily married with a family of your own.
Love,
Grandma-to-be, your Mom
Disappointment hit like a splash of cold water. No congratulations on her first day as a pediatrician. No words of praise for Janet’s choice of career. No recognition for her hard-won accomplishments.
Instead, her mother was taking her
