Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend (4 page)

she hit another bump and her purse flew from the seat to the floor. The

tampon rolled out. She blushed, then reached for it.

He grimaced. Good grief, he was an OB-GYN.

The car swerved sideways, and he yanked up the purse, stuffed the tampon

inside and closed it for her. Her lips snapped shut.

Then she hit another bump in the road, and the chest in the back bounced

up and slammed down with a thump. He angled his head to see it. “What’s

in that box, anyway?”

Rebecca’s gaze darted everywhere but at him. “Just some junk for a

garage sale.”

He lapsed into silence as he remembered the dozens of garage sales his

mother had had. She’d sold everything she could stand to part with just

to provide for them. He’d hated seeing their things being hocked to

strangers for mere pocket change.

Surely Rebecca wasn’t that desperate for money.

If she was, she’d have a hell of a time paying her insurance if the

company raised it after they covered the damages to his car.

But her finances were not his problem, he reminded himself, battling a

twinge of sympathy. He was not playing Mr. Nice Guy again. He would

befriend Rebecca so she could introduce him to her father, then he’d

secure the job and move to Atlanta. Nothing more.

A half hour later Rebecca’s insides still quivered. What had happened to

her today? Not only had she ruined Thomas’s Porsche, but she’d damn near

run off the road and killed him. Then she’d lied to him about the silly

hope chest.

But she didn’t want him to think she was husband hunting, that she would

mistake his kindness for an advance. Because Thomas Emerson was the

nicest man she’d ever met. And the sexiest. And someone was going to be

the luckiest woman alive one day to have him for a husband.

Of course, that someone would not be her.

Memories of at least three painful past relationships traipsed through

her mind, trampling her mood altogether. Memories of men who had used

her to get to Suzanne.

No, Thomas wasn’t like those men. He was trustworthy and sincere and

helped women through his work. He would never use a woman. Although, she

had overheard him asking Hannah about Suzanne when she’d gone for punch.

She veered onto the interstate toward his house, grateful for the soft

jazz music filling the tense silence. Once she dropped him at his house,

she wouldn’t have to face him again. She could handle the insurance

information over the phone and never have to look into those startling

green eyes again. As long as she didn’t see him, she could put him

firmly out of her mind.

Then she wouldn’t have to drool over him and want the man so badly.

After all, she was a realist. She refused to torture herself and dream

about things she could never have.

Like Thomas Emerson.

Thomas shook his head as Rebecca drove away. She was an enigma. He’d

finally grown tired of the strained silence in the car and had ventured

into asking her about a book he’d ordered that hadn’t yet arrived.

She had transformed into an intelligent, well-spoken woman.

The past half hour they’d enjoyed a long discussion of various popular

titles as well as nonfiction topics. Rebecca was well-read and

insightful, and had even argued with him about the authors of some

hard-to-find classics. But when he’d suggested they stop by her place so

he could help her unload that chest full of garage sale items, she’d

grown flustered again. She’d claimed her neighbor, Jerry Ruthers, would

assist her instead.

Was this guy Jerry her boyfriend? Was he the reason she’d rushed to get

home and had refused Thomas’s offer of coffee?

An odd feeling pinched his gut. Maybe it was from the chocolate groom’s

cake he’d eaten at Alison’s wedding. No, probably from the jostling his

body had been subjected to on the harrowing ride home.

He walked inside his house, smiling at the expanse of polished hardwood

and detailed molding. As a child, he’d never imagined owning a house

like this, one with space and class. He tossed his keys onto the marble

table in the foyer and stopped in the den, his gaze riveted to the

Palladian glass window overlooking his backyard. A cluster of oaks so

ancient the branches swayed with age provided shade while a fish pond

added more visual interest.

Pride swelled in his chest at his accomplishments.

Still, material things weren’t enough. His thirst for knowledge couldn’t

be quenched. He’d vowed to learn everything he could about high-risk

deliveries. A child’s life might depend on his skill and expertise.

The key to reaching his goals lay in that job in Atlanta.

Now he just had to devise a plan to see Rebecca again and swing an

invitation to her grandmother’s surprise birthday party so he could meet

Bert Hartwell.

Rebecca hurriedly placed the bride’s book and a book on dream analysis

back into the chest and shut it, not wanting any of her neighbors to see

the contents of her hope chest. Ignoring the growing chill in the air,

she tugged and pulled at the hope chest, trying desperately to remove it

from the back of the station wagon, but the bumps she’d taken had wedged

the corner of the chest into the side by the spare tire, and it was

completely stuck. The effort made her already sore chest ache even more.

She felt a sharp pain in it each time she took a deep breath, too. She

must have bruised her ribs. They couldn’t be broken or she would be in

much worse pain. Right?

She shoved again, and mashed her finger. Why hadn’t she had the courage

to accept Thomas’s offer of help?

She couldn’t ask him to assist her when she’d already inconvenienced

him. No telling how long it would take to repair his car. Granted he

could borrow something from Uncle Wiley’s lot to drive in the interim,

but she had no idea what kind of vehicle he’d get for a loaner.

Uncle Wiley did not have any brand-new silver Porches on his used-car lot.

“Yo, Becky.” Jerry Ruthers, Rebecca’s neighbor who’d dogged her for a

date ever since she’d moved into the small duplex next to his, loped

toward her, pulling baggy jeans up beneath his sagging belly. “Need a

hand?” He flexed his muscles, the bulge shoving the short sleeve of his

white T-shirt up, revealing arms layered in thick, dark hair and a

cigarette pack.

Rebecca cringed. “Thanks, but I can-“

He pushed her aside, yanked out the hope chest much the same as Thomas

had done, except Jerry added a melodramatic grunt, and sweat poured down

his unshaven face. He thundered toward the front door, his jeans

slipping down his backside.

She hurried after him, deciding to buy him a belt to hold up his pants

in exchange for his good deed.

“Where do you want it, Becky?”

She hated being called Becky, but she unlocked the door and ignored the

nickname, not wanting to prolong their conversation. “The den is fine.”

She gestured toward the blue ruffled sofa and watched him

heave as he lowered the chest to the faded beige carpet.

He whistled, wiped at his forehead with his arm, then grinned. “What you

got in there, sugar cakes?”

“Some things from my grandmother.” She inched back toward the door,

hoping he would follow. She didn’t intend to discuss the hope chest with

him any more than she had with Thomas.

“Dang it, you look pretty today.” His gaze traveled over her dark green

bridesmaid’s dress, lingering at her cleavage before dropping in

appreciation to her silver spiked heels. “Where you been? You look like

a Christmas tree, all lit up and sparkling.”

“My cousin’s wedding.” Rebecca ignored his come-hither grin. “She got

married at my grandmother’s house.” Jerry was the only man who’d shown

an interest in her recently, Rebecca thought morosely. She should try to

see him in a romantic light. After all, she never stuttered or had

klutzy attacks when he was around, but she couldn’t muster up an ounce

of attraction toward him. She yawned, her chest pinching again, and

hoped he’d take the hint.

He didn’t. He stood with one leg cocked sideways as if waiting on an

invitation to stay. “Wanna get some dinner? They got chili burgers on

the special at Pokey Slims tonight.”

Pokey Slims was a biker bar on the other side of town. Lots of beer

drinking, tattooed men and cigarette smoke. “No, thanks. I’m exhausted.”

She yawned again, making a ceremony out of the movement. She really was

tired, she realized. Wrecking cars and holding conversation with Thomas

had completely drained

her. “But thanks for bringing in the chest. I’d really like to just kick

back and go to bed.”

A lazy grin curled his mouth. “Sounds good to me. I could rub your back.”

Rebecca silently chided herself for stepping into that one. Why did the

one man she didn’t want fawn all over her, and the one she did barely

notice her?

Oh, he noticed you tonight, Bee. How could he miss when you smashed his

eighty-five-thousand-dollar car? Or before that, when you almost ran

over him? Or when you almost ran off the road into the hollow and killed

him?

“Not tonight, Jerry. I don’t want to keep you from your dinner plans.”

“Uh, yeah.” He rubbed his protruding belly. “I am kind of hungry. A man

can’t go without his food. And Pokey makes the best onion rings this

side of the Chattahoochee.” He slapped his chest. “Gives me gas, but all

good things come with a price, right?”

“Right.” She smiled sweetly, pushing images of him and chili and greasy

onion rings out of her mind.

He dragged his feet toward the door. “Just let me know when you want to

take a spin on my Hog, baby.”

“I’m not really a Harley girl.” Not that he actually had a Harley,

anyway, although he told everyone he did; he had an imitation Harley.

He whistled through his teeth. “Just call me if you need anything.”

Rebecca nodded and locked the door behind him, then changed into flannel

pajamas. She did have several bruises on her chest, the skin was already

turning an ugly purple. With a cup of hot chocolate in hand,

she headed toward her bed when the hope chest drew her eye, beckoning

her as if it had some kind of hypnotic spell on her.

Her heart fluttered with a tiny seed of hope. Hope that marriage and

babies might be in her future. Curiosity gnawed at her, too, drawing her

closer until she knelt beside the wooden chest.

Hannah and Mimi and Alison claimed their hope chests had held magical

secrets regarding their futures. That the items Grammy Rose placed

inside had something to do with the men they would marry.

Was there something inside her chest that hinted about a new man coming

into her life? Something that would convince her that love would find

its way into her future?

Thomas had barely fallen asleep when the phone rang.

“This is Terrence McGee, Dr. Emerson.” The man’s breath sounded shaky.

“I think Nora’s in labor. “

Thomas ran a hand through his hair and sat up. Nora was two weeks

overdue, so her husband was most likely right. “She’s having contractions?”

“Yeah, but they’re not regular. Says her back’s hurting.”

“Back labor,” Thomas said. And this was her third child so it would

probably come quickly. “Get her to the hospital, Terrence. I’ll meet you

there.”

“Her feet’re swollen twice the normal size, Doc, and she says she’s

dizzy. I’m worried.”

“She’ll be fine.” Thomas forced a calm to his voice that he didn’t feel.

“Just get her to the hospital and

we’ll take care of her and the baby. Everything will be all right.”

He hung up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his

clothes. No time for a shower, so he jerked on khakis and socks, then

hurried to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He didn’t

want the McGee baby making its entrance without him. According to her

file, Nora had had complications with the other two births. He sure as

hell hoped this one went smoother.

Sugar Hill General was modern, but it still didn’t have the advanced

equipment that the big Atlanta hospitals did.

Buttoning his shirt as he went, he remembered the night his baby brother

had died. His mother hadn’t had the advantages of a big modern facility,

either; maybe if she had, the doctors could have saved the baby. Thomas

had been twelve, but the helplessness he’d felt had been mind-boggling.

A frisson of unease rippled through him as he drove to the hospital. He

phoned the hospital to warn them to be prepared for an emergency. Better

to prepare for the worst.

Someday maybe he would have a son of his own. A family to replace the

one he’d lost long ago.

But not until he settled permanently into his career, moved to the city

and achieved his goals. When he had a child, he wanted it to have all

the advantages he and his brother hadn’t. The latest in medical

technology for starters.

And he would never have that in a small town like Sugar Hill.

Rebecca’s fingers trembled as she opened the hope chest. Knowing that

her grandmother had chosen the

items inside especially for her brought tears to her eyes. Grammy Rose