CHAPTER THREE

“BUT WHY DO you need to bring in an outside catering service? Why not use something from here on the island?”

Sasha could feel everyone’s eyes on her the moment she spoke. She’d vowed to herself that she’d not say anything, especially since misreading his signals last night had made it hard to sleep. Hard to even contemplate attending tonight.

For the most part, she’d sat quietly. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question.

Nate moved back to the podium, his eyes meeting hers. Something flashed in his gaze, and she wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or irritation. “Okay, tell me what you would do.”

“I would hire local DJs or musicians, contract food and services from here, play up what we have to offer. If you’re hoping to bring in outside contributions, then you make this personal—memorable—rather than just another of a hundred fund-raisers that they’ve attended in the past.”

His face remained passive, and she floundered a bit, wondering if maybe she was wrong. Nate had been doing this just fine, without her help for the last three years. And if what she’d seen of the clinic was anything to go by, then he’d been successful beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. But he’d wanted her input, right? Had asked her to come. The least she could do was give him what he was asking for.

“And you know of a company here on the island that can provide services on a large scale? We’re hoping to host between eight hundred to a thousand guests. I’d asked around before and from what I understood, there isn’t a catering service that does events of this size.”

She swallowed. Okay, so maybe she didn’t know what she was talking about. And he was probably right about there not being a catering company that specialized in massive events. But surely it was just a matter of multiplying people, resources, waitstaff, etc. If what Nate said was true, and he was doing all of this for Saint Victoria, surely the folks here would want to be involved in that. It wasn’t just a matter of having a telethon or television spot and expecting people to start pulling out their checkbooks. This should be a partnership between those on the island and those from the outside who wanted to help.

Nate shouldn’t be carrying this on his own.

“Have you already contracted with an outside catering company?”

“We’ve had bids from several places. Tonight we were going to choose one of them.”

So maybe it was too late. Maybe this was something that should be talked about for next year, not this one. But, her mom was one of the best organizers around and a super cook. If she asked her to round up people to cook and decorate, she had no doubt that Tessi James could get it done. She already made cakes for local weddings and food for several restaurants. If you got five or ten people like her, they could easily cover that kind of project. And if Nate rejected her idea outright? Well then, her opinion of him would drop back to what it had originally been: a rich man who had the money to throw at things, like caterers and fancy accoutrements, but didn’t want to actually roll his sleeves up and work alongside everyone else.

And maybe she could get her weird attraction to him back under control.

Except he’d worked beside her at Saint Victoria Hospital to save Bill Waddel’s life.

That gave her the courage to speak up yet again. “What if we could pull together a team from here on the island to do that? The caterers are going to decorate, as well?”

“Yes. They would bring in all of their own equipment and china.”

China. Okay, so she hadn’t thought about that. Enough for eight hundred to a thousand people?

She licked her lips. “Would it be possible to put off making the decision for a couple more days? I know someone who I think could organize something on this scale.”

Nate crossed his arms over his chest. “You do? Can I have a name?”

Okay, it was now or never. And he certainly had a right to know. She only hoped he didn’t see this as her wanting to throw business her mother’s way. In actuality, she needed to ask her mom before she committed her to something, which was why she’d asked for a couple of days. “Tessi James.”

Murmurs went up around the room, and she glanced around to see nods and smiles from some of the folks from Saint Victoria Hospital. Many of them knew her mother from catering their own baby showers, weddings and family celebrations.

Nate’s eyes were scanning the room, as well. “I see some of you know who this person is and...” His gaze swung back to her. “Tessi James. Would she happen to be any relation to you, Dr. James?”

Oh, this was exactly what she’d been afraid of. “Yes, she’s my mom. But...” She turned to those in attendance. “How many of you have used my mom for your events?”

Hands lifted from all over the group. Probably twenty people.

“I see.” Nate addressed Sasha again. “And you think she could pull off a formal event for this many people?”

He uncrossed his arms, his hands dropping to land on hips that were far too lean for comfort. Hips she’d imagined moving over hers on one of those hotel beds. His fingers tightened and her mouth went dry as shocking scenes of those hands closing on her flesh strobed through her head in snatches that were erotic beyond belief. She lost her train of thought for several scary seconds.

Clearing her throat, she managed to find her voice again. “It...um...depends what you mean by formal. If you’re talking formal by Saint Victoria standards, then yes. But that might not look like what you’re used to.” She heaved a breath and forced her eyes back to his face. “I would venture to say, however, that it will be memorable and special...and it won’t embarrass you.”

Nate’s brows went up. “That never even crossed my mind. I was merely talking numbers, not whether or not your mother was capable of hosting an event.”

“Which is why I’d like a day or two to talk to her. To talk to you, to see what you’ve done in the past and what you’re hoping to accomplish at this year’s event.”

Was she crazy? She actually wanted to meet with him...alone? After last night? After the thoughts she’d just had about him?

And by committing her mom to having a part in the planning process, she’d committed herself to meeting with him on more occasions. So much for guarding her heart.

“Okay, let’s put it to a vote. If you would like to explore keeping the catering local, raise your hands.”

Every hand in the room went up, even people she didn’t recognize, who probably worked here at The Island Clinic, most of whom had been brought in from other countries.

Her chest tightened, and her attitude took another slight shift.

“It seems it’s unanimous. I’ll give you three days to explore this avenue. But I’d like to meet with you after we’re done here to discuss the particulars, okay?”

The way he said that made her shiver. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or amenable to her suggestion. But she guessed she would find out soon enough.

Nate had been at Saint Victoria Hospital again today, so he had to be exhausted. She hadn’t worked with him, this time, but she had caught glimpses of him every so often. She’d been relieved to be away from him. That encounter in the hotel room had been...

Fabulously sexy. If they’d actually kissed, maybe she could have put it behind her and moved on. As it was, she was picturing him doing a lot more than just kissing her.

But she knew how easily things could go from fabulous to horrifying, so she was better off not having any of those thoughts come to fruition.

He was waiting for her response. So she said the only thing she could think of. “Yes, of course.”

While the meeting continued, revolving around timing and guest accommodations, she sent a quick text to her mom.

There was a pause, then her phone vibrated.

Ha! Her mom had not batted an eye. Just like Sasha had suspected. Her fingers moved over the phone’s keypad.

After Sasha’s dad died, her mom had thrown herself into her little business, and had made a name for herself in terms of catering and party planning and cake decorating.

Whew. Sasha had wondered if she’d opened her big mouth before engaging her brain...which she had, but her mom was covering her back. I’ll text you when I get home and can come by the house tomorrow, if that’s okay.

She had the day off, although if the hospital got too busy, she was willing to work through it. There was no word yet on when Dr. Warren would be back to work. Hopefully his family member was doing better.

The meeting dismissed soon afterward, with people going their separate ways. Patty Cohen sidled up to her. “Good idea suggesting your mom head up the catering. Will she do it, do you think?”

Sasha laughed. “I was being bad and texting her during part of the meeting. If her calendar is clear, and she can get enough help, I think she’ll agree to do it.”

“That’s really great. And I’m glad you decided to come to the meeting, for once.” The exasperated face Patty made was totally fake.

Her friend had been trying to coax her to be more involved with things that went on at The Island Clinic for quite a while and hadn’t understood why Sasha was so resistant to the idea. Or why she’d taken a dislike to its chief of staff.

Well, even Sasha couldn’t understand it. It probably had something to do with Austin and the pain he’d inflicted on her. Five years of dating, and just when she’d been expecting a marriage proposal, she’d gotten a breakup text instead, saying he’d decided to go on staff at a large New York hospital.

He’d had the audacity to conclude with an invitation for her to drop by, if she were ever in New York. They could get together for drinks. She was pretty sure she knew what the invitation entailed: sex with no strings attached. So much for his talk of coming to Saint Victoria to work.

It was the first time she’d realized how big a rift there was between her and some of her wealthier classmates. And it had been just in time for her to leave for Beth Israel. Everything about her experience at Harvard had been tainted by what Austin had done.

It had probably also tainted her view of Nate and his clinic.

“I’m glad I came too.”

Patty took a step back. “Looks like you’re being paged, and Dax is waiting for me at home, so I’m going to head out. We need to have lunch. It feels like we haven’t gotten together in ages.”

Her friend’s whirlwind romance with an old flame had been the talk of Saint Victoria Hospital. But from the look of it, her friend was deliriously happy. And she was genuinely glad for them both.

She glanced to the side to see that Nate was standing a short distance away, waiting for her.

“It’s been busy with Marcus gone. Hopefully he’ll be back soon. But yes, let’s plan lunch once my schedule clears out a bit.” She gave Patty a quick hug and then said goodbye, moving toward Nate.

She threw him an apologetic look. “I hope I didn’t mess anything up with my suggestion. And really, I probably had no right to make it, since I haven’t been to any of the other meetings. Or any of the galas.”

“It’s why I asked you to come. I did see you texting during the last part of it.”

So he had noticed. “Sorry, I was texting my mom. If there wasn’t any possibility she could do it, I was going to withdraw the idea.”

“I thought that might be it. It was a good idea, and I’m not sure why I didn’t check any further when I was told there wasn’t a caterer large enough to handle it.”

Because he knew one way of doing things, and it was hard to think of what you didn’t know. She was pretty sure it really had been just an oversight, rather than a snub. “What you don’t know, you don’t know.”

“Thanks for that. I never want to seem like a bulldozer coming in and running over people.” He tilted his head. “And I somehow get the idea that’s what you’ve thought of me.”

Time to tread lightly. “Maybe. I’m hoping I was wrong about you.”

His mouth quirked. “I’m hoping you were wrong too.” He glanced at the phone in her hand. “So what did she say? Your mom, I mean?”

“She’s going to check with some folks and said she’d have an answer to me by Monday.”

“Good. I set another meeting for Tuesday. Can you have some ideas back to me before then?”

“How about if I bring her in to meet with you that morning, if she’s free?”

He nodded. “She can do it that quickly?”

Sasha laughed. “You might not be a bulldozer, but my mom has been known to flatten anyone who gets in her way.”

“In that case, remind me never to stand in her path. Seriously, though, it won’t leave her much time to get a menu and plans in place. Can she do the cutlery and so forth?”

“I think so. I’ll need to know exactly what she needs, if you have time to give me a rundown.”

“Yes, let’s go back to my office. Most of the paperwork is in there, and they need to clean the conference room.”

Sasha turned and noted there were people already stacking chairs and picking up discarded coffee cups. “Oh, of course.”

A frisson of excitement went through her as she followed Nate down the hallway. She hoped it was due to the idea of helping plan a small part of the gala, but she was pretty sure most of it had to do with the man himself. She’d dreamed about that almost kiss last night. Except it hadn’t stopped at a kiss. It had turned hot and wet and wicked. Her face heated and she was glad, very glad, he wasn’t looking at her right now.

At the very end of the hallway, Nate used his key card to open a door on the right and stood back to let her move past him. She walked in, and frowned, all thoughts of her dream disappearing. His office was huge, with a long leather sofa and seating area off to the left, and a heavy wooden desk and matching leather chairs to the right.

The carpet was the same thick pile as what she’d seen in the hotel and cushioned her every step. Thank God, because her feet were killing her.

He must have noticed her reaction, because he moved around to grab some file folders from the desk and motioned her toward the seating area. “I meet with people in here all the time.”

She could imagine he did. How better to coax checkbooks to open than to meet them in a place where things looked like they did in their own fancy offices.

But it also was a reminder of how different they were. Of how alike he and Austin were. Both presented themselves as wealthy philanthropists. Austin’s was just a thin, shiny layer that didn’t go more than skin deep. And Nate’s? Well, the jury was still out on that.

The bottom line was, she and Nate were from two different worlds, and she’d better stop dreaming about the man before she did something stupid. Or got hurt all over again. So she paid careful attention to the things in the room. Custom artwork that looked to be done by local artisans decorated the walls. On a set of shelves behind the sofa were colorful bottles that probably contained various types of liquor.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Suddenly she did. And since she’d come to the clinic via the shuttle, she’d be taking it back home again, which meant she wouldn’t have to drive. It also made her realize the vehicle would probably be making that trip just for her. “I hate to ask the shuttle to come back—”

“I’ll take you back to the hospital. Or you can stay in one of the guest rooms here.”

Like in Room 201? The one he’d shown her yesterday? No. She wouldn’t be doing that. “I’d appreciate the ride, if that’s okay.”

“I am the one who asked you to stay after class, so it’s the least I can do.”

That made her smile. “I was the one who volunteered up my mom. But thank you. And I’d like a glass of red wine, if you have it.” It had been a long day, and she could use something to help her unwind a bit.

“I do.” He went over to the seating area and reached into a small glass-fronted refrigerator. Ah, a wine cooler.

While he retrieved a footed glass and a tumbler and fixed their drinks, she walked around the office. Her big toe twinged as it hit the end of her shoe. These were coming off as soon as she got home.

Something on a shelf behind his desk caught her eye. Something that didn’t match the rest of the sumptuous surroundings. The discomfort in her feet disappeared as she moved closer.

A small cloth doll sat on top of a book that had been tipped on its side. Its hair was cut from pieces of brown yarn and stuck up in all directions, and the undyed muslin of the body and dress were simple. It looked like a doll that some of the moms on the island fashioned for their daughters. She couldn’t picture him buying something like this.

She studied it. The facial features were embroidered, and the black shoes were stitched from felt. There were smudges of what looked like dirt here and there and the thread on one of the shoes was fraying. Her eyes widened. This doll had been played with, not purchased from one of the island’s tourist shops.

She realized that the clinking of glassware had stopped and when she looked at Nate, she saw he was watching her with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He took a sip of it. Then another.

“This is an interesting doll. Did you know that mothers here sometimes make these for their daughters? I had one when I was younger. I probably still have it somewhere, in fact.”

“Yes. I knew.” He took another sip of his drink and came over to her with the glass of wine. His eyes were not on the doll. They were on something off to the side.

Her curiosity got the best of her. “Where did you get it?”

A muscle worked in his cheek, looking much like it had last night. A sense of foreboding came over her, and Sasha thought for a minute he wasn’t going to answer her question. Then he said, “It was given to me. Let’s go talk about the gala, shall we?” His hand gestured toward the sofa on the other side of the room.

He’d made it about as plain as it could be. He didn’t want to talk about the doll. But why? Well, that was his prerogative, and this time, she wasn’t going to butt in where she wasn’t welcome. With one last glance at the lonely figure on the shelf, she took her wine and walked back over to the couch.

* * *

People had asked Nate about Marie’s doll before, and he’d always responded to them without hesitation. But when he’d noticed Sasha studying it, a rock had suddenly gathered in the pit of his stomach. It was the last thing he’d wanted to talk about after the meeting about a glitzy fund-raising gala, even though a portion of the money would go toward awareness of schistosomiasis, including water testing and prevention, as well as antibody tests and treatment.

So he’d snatched at the excuse to talk about something else. Anything else. But the second Sasha’s face had closed in on itself, he knew he’d been blunt. Too blunt. But unless he wanted to go into a full-scale explanation, it was too late to rectify his mistake.

She sat on the couch, stiff and unyielding, and held her phone tightly in her hands. “So tell me about the meals you’ve had in the past.”

He hesitated, the need to confide in her sneaking up on him again. He shook his head to rid himself of the impulse. Sitting in the chair across from her, he opened one of the file folders he’d brought over. In it were pictures from the past three galas. All three of them very different, but each of them elegant in its own way.

“These are shots from our other events. It doesn’t have to look exactly like these though.”

Sasha took the pictures from him and studied them, turning some of them sideways when the perspective changed. A movement caught his eye. She was methodically raising the heel of her right foot in and out of her shoe. She lifted it for a second or two before wiggling it back down. Up again, then pushing it back down.

Her feet hurt. She’d probably been in those shoes all day, and now he’d asked her to stay in them even longer. Well, technically she’d asked to speak with him, but still...

“Sasha.” He waited for her to look up before he finished. Her dark eyes met his, a question in their depths. “You can take your shoes off, if you’d like. Your feet look like they’re bothering you.”

Her nose squinched up in a way that made his stomach twist. “I was trying to be subtle, but yes, they’re new and it was stupid of me to have worn them today.”

“No one will see you in here.” He smiled. “It will be our little secret.”

She blinked, eyes holding his. “Are you sure?”

“Sure that it will be a secret?” He nodded at the sheaf in her hands. “I promise it won’t end up in that file folder.”

Sasha laughed and the sound tickled something in his chest, and he let the weight of Marie and that doll slide away. At least for a few minutes.

“Okay, then, as long as you promise.”

“I do.”

She slid her feet from the shoes, using one to push the footwear to the side. Then she let them sink into the carpet, her toes actually curling into it and tightening on the fibers. Parts down low tightened, flickered to life.

Damn. Time to talk about something else.

Before he could, though, Sasha sighed. “Thank you. This feels heavenly.”

Yes, it did. And it had nothing to do with the carpet. “I’ve been known to stretch out on it, when my back is hurting.”

Her brows went up. “You have back problems?”

“Just the normal twinges from age.” He’d fallen from a swing set as a child and every once in a while his L2 vertebra ached.

“Age...righ-h-ht.”

The way she drew the word out forced a laugh from him. “It’s either blame age or stupidity for it.”

“Stupidity?”

“Let’s just say jumping from a swing into a mud puddle doesn’t always go as planned. It’s all in the landing. And this one wasn’t good.”

“Ouch.” Her head tilted. “I can’t picture you swinging.”

For some reason the last word caught his attention in a totally inappropriate way. A funny retort came to mind, only she might not find it nearly as funny. “For good reason. The only place I swing nowadays is on my hammock.”

“Hammock? You have one?”

“I do. The catering team actually borrowed it for one of the galas. There should be a picture in there somewhere.”

He moved to the couch, anxious to shift his thoughts in another direction. She handed him the snapshots and he sifted through them, finding the one he was looking for. “Here.”

Sasha leaned closer to look at it to study the scene. Rough wooden pillars that were made to look like tree trunks boasted snaking vines and twinkle lights. His hammock was strung between two of them, layered with pillows and some kind of throw blanket.

“I love that. Something like this would be very doable for my mom. It wouldn’t look exactly like this, obviously, but a tropical theme would really fit with Saint Victoria.”

“Yes, I think this was my favorite gala.”

“I can see why.”

Her toes shifted in the carpet yet again, sending a sudden shaft of heat through his midsection. Her toenails were bare of polish and looked clean and natural. She was completely different from Tara. But then again, his former girlfriend had to maintain a polished appearance for his parents’ clinic.

Not that Sasha lacked polished. She just didn’t need it. There was a beauty about her that...

He cleared his throat. “So you think your mom can do this?”

“I don’t think she can. I know she can. She’s amazing.”

Her mom wasn’t the only one who was amazing.

Sasha’s eyes came up, and he realized he hadn’t responded to her statement. But right now, he wasn’t sure he could come up with anything coherent. “Are you worried, Nate?”

He was. But it had nothing to do with the gala and everything to do with her. And the crazy jolt he always got when she said his name. Maybe it was because she’d made such a big deal about not using it. But, more likely, it was the way her velvety tones wrapped around the sounds, holding on to them before releasing them into the air.

“No.” He paused. “Are you?”

Her thumb brushed across the glossy surface of one of the prints. “I...wasn’t.”

“Until now?”

She nodded, the tip of her tongue coming out to moisten her lips. That’s when he knew. She felt the change in atmosphere, just like he had. It was the same sensation he’d gotten on the balcony last night.

Maybe it would keep happening every time they were in a room together. Unless he did something radical about it. Something to quench the sparks that were starting to sting the lining of his chest.

Maybe one kiss would put it behind him, just like it had with any other woman he’d been with since he’d broken things off with Tara.

Or maybe it would be like that accident on the swing, where what he’d thought would happen when he jumped ended up turning into something he’d never do again.

Wasn’t that the same thing? Either way, he’d try it once and be done with it.

He set down the picture he was still holding in his hand, and took the ones she had. Then he stood to his feet, reaching for her hand.

When she placed her fingers on his palm, it was as if an electric current surged through him, holding him fast in its grip. It was there when he closed his fingers around hers. It was there when he slowly pulled her to her feet.

And it was still there when his palms cupped her face, his thumbs sliding over it in a way that mimicked what she’d done with the photo a few minutes ago.

Suddenly he realized this was nothing like jumping from a swing and misjudging his landing. This was going to be far more dangerous. But like that foolish decision to leap out into the air, it was already too late to reconnect with the swing. All he could do was sail into space, and hope he survived the fall.