Dear Love Doctor (24 page)

And Daffy would be his.

The first sign of trouble Hunter encountered was the arch of pink balloons bouncing in the breeze over the entrance to the house. Everywhere he looked, he saw pink.

He made his way manfully forward, trying not to countenance the stares of several groups of women gathered on the porch of the historic house. They wore evening dresses in shades of pink.

Perhaps, Hunter thought as the door swung open and a maid in a pink uniform gazed at him, he’d made a mistake in not assessing the situation more carefully.

The maid gaped at him, then tiptoed forward and said, “Thank goodness you are here at last! But go around to the back door. Don’t you know your place?”

Hunter stared at her, wondering what rabbit hole he’d fallen down.

“I’m here for the fund-raiser,” he said.

“Yes, and it’s about time,” the maid whispered. “These ladies get really bitchy when they have to wait for their drinks.”

“Drinks?”

“Oh, well, you’re not too bright, but you’re here, so come on in.” The maid tugged on the sleeve of his thousand-dollar dinner jacket and said, “I’ll show you the way.”

Moved along by an inexorable force, Hunter swam through a sea of high-pitched voices issuing from every imaginable female form—all clothed in cotton-candy pink. So much for mingling with the hoi polloi and finding Daffy. He’d have to make the best of it, avoid a scene, and slip out as soon as possible. Given the hold the maid had on his sleeve, he thought it prudent to follow her.

And that was how Hunter James found himself behind a bar decked out in pink ribbons.

Daffy had to be there. He was a lot less conspicuous behind the bar than adrift in the sea of pink, so he popped champagne corks and poured bubbly for the next half hour, all the while scanning the crowd in search of her. He found it hard to believe she’d be dressed in pink to cover the event for the paper, but as he’d yet to spot any woman, no matter her age or girth, garbed in any other color, he took to checking every face he saw.

When he’d begun to despair, and was about to conclude that the helpful housekeeper had misinformed him, he spotted her.

Across a crowded room, exactly the way he’d first seen her.

Only this time she wasn’t standing next to an identical blonde, a blonde he now knew to be her twin sister. And she wasn’t wearing black. Her pink sheath was a deeper hue than the softer tones filling the room, and Daffy wore the dress with her unmistakable air of distinction. Rather than the inviting look she’d had in her eyes that first night, she appeared ready to do battle.

This time she was talking to . . . Hunter over-filled a champagne flute and apologized to the matron glaring at him. But surely that wasn’t Tiffany with Daffy?

Preening.

Telling Daffy goodness only knew what.

Hunter threw down the bar towel he’d tucked into the cummerbund of his tux.

A silver-haired woman, glass extended, said in a schoolmarm’s voice, “And just where do you think you’re going, young man?”

“To save my life,” Hunter said.

24

H
e caught up with the two women just as the bossy matron overtook him.

“Don’t think you’ll work one of our fund-raisers again, young man, if this is an example of your work ethic.”

“Hunter?”

Daffy gasped his name and said to the irate woman pursuing him, “Mrs. Fagot, weren’t you interested in a donation from Hunter James?”

The woman drew herself up and declared, “I’m interested in any donation that serves our worthy cause of providing funds for cancer research. But I’m also interested in having my glass of champagne refreshed, something this young man seems to find beneath his attention.”

Daffy moved a step or two away from Tiffany, an action that Hunter applauded silently. “Mrs. Fagot, let me get you another drink,” she said, throwing a rather quelling look at Hunter.

“But what about that good-for-nothing bartender?”

“That’s not the bartender,” Daffy said. “That’s Hunter James.”

Hunter heard the woman’s snort of disbelief as the two of them receded.

And, contrary to every one of his hopes and plans, he was left alone with Tiffany Phipps.

How had Daffy done that? Maneuvered herself out of his reach and left him with the last woman on earth with whom he cared to share oxygen.

“So,” Tiffany said, swaying toward him in a sequined pink sheath, “coming out in support of breast research?” As she asked the question, she ran one pink-tipped fingernail down her cleavage to the point where it disappeared beneath her strapless dress.

Ten million or not, Tiffany was a disaster.

“I was looking for Daffy,” Hunter said, backing away a step.

Tiffany shadowed him. “But she’s too busy with Mrs. Fagot to notice that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Tiffany gave him a pretty seductive come-hither smile and Hunter had to acknowledge that at one point in his life, he would have been putty in her hands.

But that was B. D.

Before Daffy.

He took another step away from her, hoping to bump into Daffy, hoping she’d see him and return to rescue him from Tiffany’s clutches. But what had Tiffany told her?

“You didn’t, by any chance, imply to Daffy that you and I were an item, did you?” Hunter’s question was interrupted as he smashed into a small table holding a vase of flowers. Only his exceptionally quick reaction saved the vase from meeting its demise.

Tiffany purred an answer Hunter could only shudder at.

The ring in his pants pocket felt as if it had set fire to the fabric by this point. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Daffy making tracks toward the front door.

“Stop!” His voice rang out, far louder than he’d intended, and every pink lady in the house turned to stare at him.

Even Tiffany halted.

Hunter grabbed his moment and fled.

In record-setting time, he zoomed across the room, out the door, down the sidewalk, and straight toward the BMW about to pull away from the sidewalk.

Seeing no other course, he flung himself in front of the car and held up both hands.

Fortunately for him and for his and Daffy’s off-spring, she hit the brakes.

And Hunter climbed in.

Which gave him a close-up view of the storm cloud that was Daffy’s face, and which pretty much signaled his second sign of serious trouble. It sure wasn’t the romantic scene he’d pictured, not with Daffy glaring daggers at him as he panted like a Saints wide receiver who’d just gone long and missed a touchdown pass.

Daffy barely gave Hunter time to close the passenger door as she thrust her car back into the traffic on Prytania. She was so upset she was speechless. She should be happy to see Hunter back in town. She should be flattered he’d sought her out at an event she was covering for the paper.

He reached a hand toward her. “Don’t even think of it,” she said.

“What?” The shock on his face couldn’t be faked.

“Hands that touch Tiffany Phipps don’t touch me.” There, she’d said it. God, but it was humiliating to have the tables turned on her, especially after the way she’d used Eric, Tiffany’s brother, to hurt Aloysius.

Hunter leaned so close he almost blocked her view over the steering wheel. “What are you talking about?”

“You know darn well.”

“It’s Tiffany, isn’t it?” Hunter laughed. “She’s nothing to me.”

“Nothing?” Daffy couldn’t believe how jealously she was reacting. “Then you and I must use different dictionaries if you call spending the night with her after we came back from Las Vegas
nothing
!”

“How could you believe that of me?”

Daffy shrugged.

“Okay, at one point in my life, it might have been true. But that was before I met you. You’ve changed me, Daffy. I hardly recognize my own thoughts anymore. I see a beautiful woman and I think, she’s not as pretty as Daffy and not half as interesting.” Hunter’s voice had risen with every sentence until he was practically shouting.

Amazed, Daffy slowed the car and pulled it to the side of the street.

Hunter kept on. “Dammit, I came home from my trip a day early. And do you have any idea why?”

Daffy shook her head, her own jealous rage dissipating as quickly as a dewdrop in July.

“To ask you to marry me!”

It was a good thing she’d already stopped the car and switched into Park. Otherwise, they would have needed a tow truck to sort out the crash.

She stared at Hunter. “You didn’t really say that, did you?”

He reached into his jacket, fumbled around, then pulled out a velvety jewelry case.

“Oh, no,” Daffy said.

It was Hunter’s turn to stare. “I guess I’m handling this all wrong, but just let me stumble through it.”

He opened the case and held it toward her. The sun was just setting and as the gems caught the rays they seemed to take fire. Daffy sucked in her breath and said, “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s yours.”

She shook her head, slowly, reluctantly, fearing with her next words she was risking her only chance at happiness, but unable to stop her response. “I can’t marry you.”

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t.” She should have known Hunter wouldn’t accept a simple no.

“Why not? We’re perfect together.”

Why wasn’t he using the L word? Daffy studied the ring, ’cause that was a lot easier than meeting Hunter’s gaze. And the ring was stunning. She couldn’t have designed anything else more perfect.

But perfection wasn’t necessarily love that would last a lifetime. Love required truth and honesty and commitment and she wasn’t at all sure either one of them understood those qualities well enough to make a marriage work. In the past, she would have said yes and then found a way to drive him away. At least she was getting slightly smarter. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I truly, truly am.”

Hunter couldn’t grasp that she’d said no. “Can you at least explain why not?”

“We were just shouting at each other a few minutes ago,” she said.

“Every couple has fights.”

“We haven’t known each other long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” Hunter took her left hand, wondering what had gone wrong, asking himself why he wasn’t about to slip that one-of-a-kind ring on her delicate finger. “To know I want to wake up every morning with you and go to sleep every night and share every success and every struggle? Long enough for that?”

Daffy blinked and Hunter studied her. Was she touched enough to cry? Surely that was a good sign. “Long enough to know you’re the woman I want to make babies with and travel around the world with? Long enough to know you feel the same but you’re afraid to say yes?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Yes, you are. You’re afraid we’ll make a mess of things and you’ll cheat on me and I’ll cheat on you and then we’ll hate each other for what we could have kept beautiful and that will be that.”

Daffy gasped. “How do you know that’s what I think?”

He took the ring box back and snapped it shut. “Because we’re both afraid of the same thing, but you know what? I’ve got the guts to face the challenge.”

“And you think I don’t?”

She was getting mad. Good. Hunter wanted to rile her, and rile her good. Then she’d come out with the truth and admit she loved him and couldn’t live without him. Love. Hunter frowned. Had he told her he loved her?

“Daffy . . .”

“Anyway, I can’t marry you because I’m the Love Doctor.”

Her last sentence came out in a rush and, lost in the quandary of whether he’d committed the faux pas of not actually saying he loved her, Hunter didn’t catch her words at first. And then, as they settled into his mind, he said, “What do you mean, you’re the Love Doctor?”

“I write the column,” Daffy said, really pretty calmly for someone making so monumental a confession.

“You?” Hunter’s image of a prune-faced biddy with a bun of gray hair rose to mock him. “Oh, no, tell me it’s not true.”

“It is true. I invented it, I write it, and I wrote those words about you—not about any
friend
of yours.”

“Okay, so I said it was for a friend.” Hunter, still holding the ring box in his hand, stared at Daffy as if he were seeing her for the first time. “But you said you didn’t know who the Love Doctor was.”

“We both lied.”

“Yep.”

“And I know, now that you know the truth, you won’t want to marry me, but at least I have it off my chest,” Daffy said, looking pretty sad.

“What do you mean, I don’t want to marry you?” Hunter was really having trouble following her logic. “If you hadn’t written that column, and I hadn’t gone to
The Crescent
looking for the good old Love Doc, and Jonni hadn’t said you’d have coffee with me, we wouldn’t be here together today.”

“That’s one of the most beautiful speeches I’ve ever heard anyone make,” she said.

Her lips had parted softly. Her eyes were glistening. Hunter leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. She responded, then pulled back abruptly.

“But I still can’t marry you.”

“Then you
are
afraid!”

She nodded. “I promised I wouldn’t break your heart, and until I know in my own soul I can be the partner you need, I can’t say yes.”

Hunter lost it. He saw her slipping away from him. “Daffy, don’t walk away. We can face our demons together. That’s what love is all about. And I love you.”

She was crying. Daffy, who never cried, was sobbing openly. “You’re so wonderful,” she said between sniffles. “I’ve hurt every guy I’ve ever been involved with and at least now I’m wise enough to stop before I hurt you.”

There was nothing else he could say. She wasn’t ready to believe she’d changed from the wounded child who’d struck back because of her own pain. “Dear, sweet Daffy,” he said softly, his own heart as heavy as hers, yet he wasn’t about to give up on them. “Just go home and sleep on it. Call me tomorrow and we’ll work through this.” He caught one of her tears with his thumb and added, “Together.”

Jonni didn’t believe Daffy had said no.

Daffy’s phone rang bright and early the next morning and her sister, obviously trying to be discreet, asked how she was.

“Fine,” Daffy said, stroking her cat, who’d decided in Hunter’s absence to return to her perch on Daffy’s bed.

“Just fine?” Jonni sounded puzzled.

It took Daffy a second or two, but then she figured out Hunter must have gotten her ring size from Jonni. And Daffy had never even slipped the ring on her finger.

“I can’t marry Hunter.” She heard her own mulish tone and wondered at it. Was she just being stubborn? Or was she standing on principle here?

“Why not?” Jonni sounded truly shocked. “You’re a perfect match.”

There it was again, that word “perfect.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you make each other so happy. I’ve never seen you the way you are with Hunter.”

That got to Daffy. “Oh, Jonni, I love him!”

“So why not marry him?”

“But what if I screw it up? What if I hurt him or he hurts me or we realize after a few years we’re not so perfect after all?”

“If everyone said that, no one would ever get married.”

“So why do people do it?”

“Because it’s worth it. All the working things out and compromising and trying to learn to see the world from the eyes of another person—it all comes together and you know a joy and a peace that’s not possible any other way.”

“Wow,” Daffy said. “Is that how you feel with David?”

“Yes.” Her sister sounded just a tad defensive.

“I am sorry I’ve been such a jerk about David,” Daffy said.

“It’s okay. Not everyone is meant for everyone else. I mean, I think Hunter is a great guy, but I could never imagine marrying him.”

“And why not?” Now
she
sounded defensive.

“I think he’d be very exhausting. You know, always on the go and wanting you to be with him every step of the way.”

“I know,” Daffy said, “and it’s beautiful.”

“Aha!”

“Hunter said I was afraid and I am.” Daffy clung to her phone, hoping against hope her sister would say some magic mantra that would change her mind. She
wanted
to marry Hunter, she really did.

“Only you will know when the time is right for you,” Jonni said, sounding far wiser than she should, given that she was a twin and only fifteen minutes older than Daffy. “But listen to your heart, not just your head.”

With those words of wisdom, words that oddly echoed the same advice that the Love Doctor had delivered to Confused in Chalmette, Jonni rang off.

Daffy pulled the covers over her head, only to be interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door.

Hunter? Had he come after her? He’d said to call him, but she hadn’t dialed his number. She didn’t know what he could do to persuade her it would be okay to marry. The permission had to come from within her. “Just a minute,” she called, reaching for her hairbrush.

“No rush,” her housekeeper said.

Daffy dropped her brush, got out of bed, donned her oldest and most comfortable bathrobe, and opened the door.

Almost hidden behind a massive display of spring flowers, chief among them bunches of daffodils, her housekeeper said, “I thought you might like this in your bedroom.”