As Gray settled into the molded plastic chair with a “fresh” cup of hospital coffee, he congratulated himself for his sterling behavior the past two weeks. As promised, he’d kept his hands—and other parts of his anatomy—to himself. Well, he silently corrected, except for that brief kiss this afternoon. Amy tempted him to forget the agreement, but when he looked into her clear blue eyes, he knew he couldn’t disappoint her. She was depending on him to uphold his end of their deal, and he’d already pushed the bounds of their relationship by asking her to San Antonio for the afternoon.
He’d simply wanted to spend more time with her. He’d thought of little else during his leisure hours, with images of her face or snatches of her laughter drifting into his consciousness when he should have been concentrating on business. His preoccupation with Amy was a bad sign; he didn’t want to become obsessed with the woman who was saving him from more blind dates. The problem was that he’d never had a similar relationship with another woman.
He wanted to call their bond a friendship, but he wasn’t sure if that was accurate. Did friends feel this mind-numbing attraction to each other? He’d had some female friends in college; he had female business associates with whom he was friendly. He’d never felt tempted to pull them into his arms and kiss them senseless.
Shifting on the hard seat, he wondered what she was doing now. She’d rushed into the emergency room, looking for the boy. He admired her dedication; he’d identified the same single-mindedness in himself. The difference was that his pursuit of new technology or additional business opportunities wasn’t life or death. Amy’s education and inclination toward medicine had given her the opportunity to save or significantly improve the lives of her patients.
Or maybe, he thought as he watched her walk down the hospital corridor toward the waiting room, her arm supporting the shoulders of a thin, worried woman, she sometimes made others feel better. Not because of medicine or healing, but because they trusted her knowledge and character. She might not be the surgeon who removed the boy’s appendix, but she was the person the family wanted beside him when he was ailing. They trusted she’d see the right decisions were made in an environment foreign to most people.
He also trusted her, he realized. He couldn’t say the same about too many people—just a few friends and a couple of business associates. He’d depended on himself for years, hiring the best employees and hoping they honored their confidentiality agreements. His high-tech products depended on getting a unique product to the market, which had been the U.S. government but was now expanding to include consumer products.
At one time, he’d trusted Connie. She’d been his wife, and before that, his college sweetheart. He’d loved her, but that hadn’t been enough. His feelings hadn’t compensated for the long hours and dedication to Grayson Industries. Her deception had been a total surprise. She’d never even hinted she wanted out of their marriage.
“How are you?”
He looked up into Amy’s blue eyes. Realizing he was nearly crushing the cup of lukewarm coffee, he placed it carefully on the table and stood up. “I’m fine. Was that Mrs. Kaminsky you were with?”
“Yes. She headed for the pay phones to make a call.” Amy ran a hand through her hair in a weary gesture. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“I didn’t mind.”
She frowned, her head cocked to one side. “You looked angry when I walked up.”
Gray shook his head. “Not about you. I was thinking of something else. Something long past.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
She stood in front of him, her gaze questioning. He knew she’d never push for details, but suddenly, he wanted to tell her something about his feelings.
“I was thinking of my ex-wife. She had an affair with my best friend. That’s what I meant when I said the marriage was messy, not the divorce. She betrayed me, she wanted out but she didn’t want a scandal. I gave her a small settlement, but she didn’t get any part of my greatest asset, my business.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through the divorce, though. The whole process must have been painful.”
He shook his head. “I’m sure I was partially at fault. I was married to my company. Grayson Industries was my mistress, in a way. I suppose Connie believed she deserved the same level of attention from someone.” He shrugged. “If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.”
“Sounds sad for both of you.”
“It’s old news,” he said, dismissing the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about Connie, marriage, or divorce. He wrapped an arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Are you finished with your patient?”
“Yes. Matthew came out of surgery just fine. His grandmother determined the symptoms were more serious than an upset stomach before the appendix ruptured.”
“Good. Then how about I take you dinner? I’m starved.”
“I’ll bet you are,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Hospital coffee isn’t the most tasty or nutritious snack.”
“I’ll agree. Let’s see if we can find something more tasty and filling.” In a place that had comfortable chairs and more subtle lighting.
And lots of people around so he didn’t forget his dates with Amy were supposed to be for show, not for real.
AMBROSE WHEATLEY’S STEP felt a bit lighter as he headed for the Four Square Café and lunch with Thelma and Joyce. His broken ankle was mending nicely, but his heart soared beyond the restrictions of the walking cast or the cane he still had to use. Amy Jo’s dates with Grayson Phillips were the best medicine he’d received in a month of Sundays. That young man was just what the doctor ordered—quite literally!
He chuckled at his own joke as he walked to Thelma and Joyce’s table.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Joyce said, a glint of interest in her pretty green eyes.
“And why wouldn’t I be?” he answered as he pulled out a chair next to the beautician and settled in for lunch. “I’m havin’ a meal with my two favorite ladies, my daughter is datin’ the most eligible bachelor in town and I’m feelin’ fit as a fiddle.”
“You won’t be if you don’t stay off that leg,” Thelma reminded him.
“You sound just like my daughter,” he complained.
“Oh, would that be your daughter, the doctor?”
Joyce giggled. “She got you on that one, Ambrose.”
“I’m in too good a mood to let a little thing like a broken ankle bother me. Why, life is darn near perfect! Christmas is almost here, I might get me a son-in-law next year, and I’m enjoyin’ the company of the prettiest lady in town—no offense, Thelma.”
“None taken, Ambrose. I’m just glad your daughter didn’t take as much time as you did to add some romance to her life.”
“Are you callin’ me a pokey old coot?”
“I never said a thing about you being an old coot.”
Ambrose chuckled. “I don’t hear any complaints from the other side of the table,” he said, looking at the lady he’d escorted around town for the past few weeks. Joyce was as cute as could be. As different from his dearly departed wife as night and day, but she’d been gone a good number of years. Talking to Amy had reminded him that it was about time he got on with his own life.
“What’s the special for lunch today, ladies?” he asked, reaching for a folded paper menu. His appetite for food and for life had jumped higher than a flea on a hound dog since his little girl moved back to town.
JUST A WEEK BEFORE Christmas, Amy sat on her black leather sofa and worried about how she was going to approach Gray regarding their relationship. Their supposedly pretend dating relationship. Since the emergency appendectomy, he’d behaved more like a real “boyfriend” than the man she’d conspired with to deceive the town.
She smoothed the pine green jersey dress over her legs, resisting the urge to pleat the soft fabric. She felt as fidgety as a three-year-old at Sunday church service, but she was determined neither Gray nor her father would know of her nervousness.
She should have kept the relationship uncomplicated by emotions. What was wrong with her? She had to focus or become forever lost somewhere between pretend and real, in a dimension with no past or future.
Except there was always a future. She’d learned that lesson as a child, when life had been going along so well. An idyllic community, two loving parents and lots of friends. Then one day everything had changed. Just one phone call and they’d rushed to the hospital. Not long afterward, her father had hugged her tight and told her that her mother was gone, the victim of a car accident. Gone, just like that. One minute Amy had been playing in her friend’s yard in the warm sunshine; the next she’d been a child who would never see her mother again, or feel her strong, supportive hugs.
Oh, how she wanted life to stay constant. How she longed for the peace and contentment that came in the unchanging tempo of small-town life.
The sound of Gray’s car in her driveway just before seven o’clock shook her out of the dark memories. They were due that evening at the community center for carols, punch, cookies and a visit with “Santa,” also known as Dr. Ambrose Wheatley. The Christmas program provided lots of fun for children of all ages. She’d volunteered to keep the cookie trays stocked with all kinds of homemade goodies provided by ladies from the community.
As soon as she’d realized she was attending the program, she’d hesitated only a few minutes before calling Gray. First, her instincts had told her to tell him about the event, then ask him to escort her. Second, she wanted him beside her as the children crawled onto “Santa’s” lap and told him their secrets. And last of all, she knew the merry matchmakers—as she and Gray had started called her father, Thelma and Joyce—would expect to see her there with Gray.
So tonight they would appear together in front of the town as a happy couple. Later, they needed to talk in private about the direction of their relationship. She was very concerned that both of them had forgotten why they were dating.
“YOU TWO TAKE A BREAK,” Thelma ordered, taking the tin of cookies from Amy’s hands. “Have some punch, get a breath of fresh air. Whatever you young people enjoy.”
Gray smiled at the older woman’s opinion that he was still a “young person.” After a long day at the office, conference calls and an evening spent beside a beautiful woman he’d rather have all to himself, he didn’t feel so young. He felt downright mature. Selfish, maybe, but hardly the type of carefree boy who could enjoy a Christmas party without thinking about how the green jersey hugged Amy’s curves and set off her dark, shining hair.
A sprig of mistletoe over the entrance to the church’s community center beckoned. He’d like to escort her to the bit of ribbon-bedecked greenery, take her in his arms and kiss her until the entire town knew how much he wanted her.
But that type of physical display would embarrass Amy, who needed to develop and maintain her professional reputation. She’d told him her medical practice had improved since they’d been dating, so at least one of her goals had been accomplished. He’d certainly enjoyed a respite from Thelma and Joyce’s persistent efforts to get him matched with the right date. Everyone assumed that he’d found the perfect woman for him. At least for now.
“Your father seems happy,” he said to her as they walked away from the buffet table.
“That might have something to do with Mrs. Claus,” Amy said, looking at Joyce. She’d obviously sprayed something on her strawberry blond hair to make it gray for tonight. The red-and-green dress and white apron, coupled with a jaunty white ruffled cap, made her look just like Santa’s most important helper.
“They make a cute couple.”
“Funny,” Amy said, giving him a crooked grin, “they say the same thing about us.”
They’re right, Gray wanted to say, but knew this wasn’t the time. Amy was trying much harder than he was to keep their relationship impersonal. Either that, or she simply wasn’t as interested in him as he was in her. Given her response whenever they were alone and when he’d kissed her, he didn’t think so. He hoped she’d see the advantages of changing their relationship from pretend dating to something more mutually satisfying.
“I’d love a cola rather than any more of that sweet punch,” Amy said. “Let’s see if the machine is working.”
They headed for the dimly lit hallway in back of the kitchen. “You’re probably tired,” Gray said. “You’ve been on your feet on that hard floor for over an hour.”
“I’m used to it. Doctors often have to stand for surgery or exams. But you’ve put in a full day, too.”
He produced a handful of coins and Amy selected two soft drinks from the machine.
“Let’s grab a seat on the steps,” she said.
Tucking her skirt around her legs, she settled on the step and brushed off the space beside her. “When I was a little girl, I used to hide out here during some of the sermons.”
“Not all of them? I played hooky from church on a regular basis.”
“No,” she said, her eyes focusing on something he couldn’t see, something far in her past. “My father sang in the choir, so I usually sat with friends and their families. When the minister talked about death, I didn’t want to hear the words. I know they were meant to be comforting, but I missed my mother too much to hear such abstract thoughts. All I could think about was how alone I felt.”
“You never had brothers or sisters, right?”
“Right. I think my mother would have liked more children, but I was all they had.”
“I was an only child, too. I know how that feels.”
“Did you have imaginary friends?” Amy asked, turning her head toward him.
“Of course. Sometimes I had an entire fantasy baseball team. We went to the Little League championships more than once.”
Amy chuckled. “I had a big brother who went on grand adventures with me. Sometimes he made me feel less alone at night, when my dad had to go out for an emergency.”
“He left you alone?”
“I was at least twelve then,” she explained, “when most girls are baby-sitting for other children. Besides, this is a small town, where crime was practically nonexistent. I wasn’t too young to stay at home, but I was kind of a baby about being alone at night.”
“I don’t think you were a baby.”
“Thanks, but looking back, I really was. I wasn’t worried about somebody breaking in to the house, or something bad happening to me. I was worried about my father, and how I’d feel if I lost him too.”
Gray placed an arm around Amy’s shoulders. “I think I understand. I didn’t have the same experience, of course, since both my parents were alive, but my mother seemed to worry excessively.”
“About herself?”
“No, about me. Unlike your mother, I don’t think she wanted any more children. She put all her eggs in one basket, so to speak, and she definitely guarded that basket.”
“I suppose overprotective is better than complacent.”
“That’s a very adult way to look at it. As a child, I wasn’t nearly that objective.”
Amy chuckled again. “I understand. Sometimes it’s difficult for a parent to let their child have the freedom to either succeed or fail on their own.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is probably why you established your own company as an adult.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but you may be right.”
“We only children have our own experiences, don’t we?”
He looked into her eyes, which appeared a dark indigo in the low light of the hallway. They had more in common than he’d once thought. He felt a closeness to Amy he hadn’t felt in ages, if ever. Without thinking, he tightened his arm around her shoulders.
To hell with good intentions, he thought as his gaze shifted from her eyes to her full, beautifully sculpted mouth. He remembered how the upper bow of her lips, so smooth and distinct, felt when his mouth had settled over hers. He longed to trace the shape again with his tongue, to taste the sweetness of the soda she’d sipped and savor her unique flavor. He angled closer, against the steps, his gaze caressing the soft pink blush of her cheeks. When he looked into her eyes, he discovered her startled awareness and more than a hint of matching passion.
Oh, yes, she wanted him too. Inside the darkened interior of his car or on the dimly lit steps of the church back hallway. His heart pounded hard and fast and he felt himself swell with desire.
“I’d better get back to the cookies,” she said suddenly, breathlessly, jumping up from the step. “I’ll bet Thelma is ready for a break.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said with a sigh as she practically ran toward the large gathering of friends and neighbors.
Gray sucked in a series of deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. When he decided he wouldn’t embarrass himself or Amy, he pushed himself up to follow her down the hall. Probably just as well that she’d run from what was certain to be a very hot kiss—and perhaps an even hotter night ahead. He’d kept his hands to himself for weeks, but he was only human. Amy was more temptation than he’d ever had to resist.
“THE PARTY WAS A LOT OF fun,” Gray said as he pulled his Lexus to a stop in Amy’s driveway. “Thanks for inviting me.”
The earlier tension they’d felt when they’d sat on the back steps had disappeared, replaced with the polite social behavior she associated with Gray. She was glad, she told herself. She didn’t want a lover, even one as tempting and charming as Gray.
“I’m glad you went with me,” she said, equally determined to be warm and civil. “My father seemed to have a special gleam in his eyes when he saw you there.”
“He makes a good Santa.”
“Since he’s gained a little weight around his middle, he doesn’t need as much padding any more,” Amy said, remembering the times she’d helped him dress in the red suit after she’d discovered he, not some Santa surrogate from the North Pole, was playing the jolly old elf.
She unbuckled her seat belt and turned toward Gray. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
Gray stilled, as though she’d asked him an especially difficult question. Well, maybe she had. They hadn’t been truly alone, except in the car, for a long time.
“Just coffee and some conversation,” she added when he continued to study her in the dim light of the car’s interior. “I’d really like to discuss something with you.”
“All right,” he said, slipping the key from the ignition.
She didn’t wait for him to come around to her side of the car, as he usually did when they were out in public. Although she appreciated the polite gesture, it made her feel too special. Too much like a real, cherished date.
She felt his strong, warm presence at her back while she unlocked the front door. Her fingers seemed especially clumsy as she jiggled the lock, then finally heard the dead bolt slide free.
Slipping inside quickly, she found the switch and flooded the small entryway with light. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said over her shoulder as she shrugged out of her coat. “I’ll just be a minute.”
His hands caught the collar, easing it off her arms. She was reminded of their first date not too long ago, when he’d helped her on with her coat. She’d been nervous for another reason that night, but just as strongly aware of his overwhelming presence.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll have the coffee ready in a moment.”
“No hurry,” he said as she fled to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she entered the living room with two mugs. “Cream, no sugar, right?”
“That’s right,” he said, taking the warm mug and enclosing her fingers in his personal heat for just a moment. Her heart raced, darn it, just when she’d managed to get herself under control when she was alone in the kitchen. Was there no way to be around Gray without wanting him?
“I was just looking over your CDs,” Gray said, taking his coffee to the sofa and sitting down. “You’ve done a lot more unpacking than when I was here a few weeks ago.”
“I’ve managed to work some in,” she said, sitting at the other end of the couch, “but I have to admit it’s not my favorite leisure activity.”
Gray looked at her with hooded silver eyes over the rim of his mug. “I won’t make any comments about what you might rather be doing.”
Amy sucked in a deep breath. Ridiculous. She interpreted everything the man said as a suggestive comment. Surely he wasn’t always implying something sexual!
“Regarding activities outside my practice,” she said, pulling professionalism around her like a shield against his charisma, “I wanted to talk about our dates.”
“I think they’ve been going well.”
“For the most part, I’d agree.”
He sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that we agreed to pretend to be dating. We weren’t supposed to actually be in a relationship.”
“So you object to us enjoying each other’s company?” He sounded very defensive. Perhaps she wasn’t handling this well.
“Of course not. I’m thrilled that we have a good time when we’re together. What worries me is the type and number of our dates. I just believe that perhaps we’re losing focus on why we’re spending time together.”
“Maybe having a good time is enough.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what we agreed.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to have a specific number of dates, and then not having a good time on those,” he replied, leaning forward and placing his mug on the coffee table.
“Gray, that’s not what I meant,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just worried that we’re turning this pretend dating into the actual thing.”
“You mean you think I’m the one who’s lost focus of our goal.”
“Well…no. I’m just as guilty. I certainly haven’t discouraged a more…friendly relationship. Maybe I’ve simply recognized the problem first.”
“You see our dates as a problem?”
“I didn’t say that!”
He rose from the couch and paced the length of her small living room. The journey took only a few strides, then he was back, standing before her chair. “Amy, I’m not going to apologize for liking you as a person. Or for wanting to spend time with you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’ve enjoyed our dates. I’ve enjoyed…you.”
Gray looked at her long and hard, his gaze glittering with unnamed emotion. Or maybe just desire. How could she tell when she knew so little about what he was feeling? But did she want to know? She’d just explained how they shouldn’t really be dating. If she followed her own advice, she’d keep her distance. She wouldn’t complicate their relationship by delving into his reasons and innermost feelings.
“Tell me again why we should stick to the agreement? Why we shouldn’t explore this attraction we both feel?” Gray finally said, his voice as soft and rich as melting butter.
Amy took a deep breath. “Because we have goals. Because you don’t want a long-term relationship, and I don’t want an affair.”
Gray reached down and pulled her to her feet. Her breasts brushed his chest, and her skirt swirled against his hard thighs. She remembered how good he’d felt when they’d danced, how wonderful he kissed. Would it be so wrong to give in to the feelings, just for a moment?
Her breasts ached from the friction of their breathing. Heavy, hot breathing. Gray’s eyes glittered with barely restrained desire as she stared up into his handsome, hard-planed face. She wanted him. He wanted her. Could she resist such compelling passion?
Yes! She had to be strong. Strong enough for both of them.
Amazingly, her legs supported her. She wondered if her feet would obey her if she ordered them to run away.
“Are you so sure, Amy?”
“About what?” Her voice sounded faint, breathless.
“About not wanting an affair. We’re two consenting adults with a right to a private life. Who would we be hurting?”
She closed her eyes, breathing in the clean, crisp scent of him, feeling his warmth so close, so strong. The touch of his finger on her chin snapped her eyes open.
“Amy?”
Did he know how much she desired him, how much she wanted to give in to the physical demands of her body? “We’d be hurting ourselves, Gray. I can’t have that kind of relationship with you and not crave more. And knowing that there was no future for us would break my heart.”
“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious, as though the concept was as foreign to him as the reality of having a casual affair was to her.
“Because I care too much about you as it is. I’m not willing to set myself up for heartache.”
He stroked her jaw with his fingers, briefly resting his palm against her cheek. Then he stepped back, taking his warmth and strength with him. “I can’t promise you more than good times and great sex.”