Heart Like Mine (21 page)

He'd had to say a proverbial good-bye before they'd hardly said hello.

Sleep was going to be a long time coming.

He pictured her eyes, looking up at him at their table at Bellinis, or as they'd leaned on the windshield earlier tonight. For hours he'd tried to figure out what color they were, but it was like someone had taken the greens and blues from a crayon box and melted them together, then added a tiny piece of gold at the end. When she laughed, the edges of her eyes crinkled in a way that made him just want to keep her amused.

He stood at the sink, looking through the darkness into a backyard that hadn't changed since he was a kid. The old tree fort was still up in the tree, though it was probably rotted by now, and in the moonlight, he could see the old tire swing still hanging from the oak tree.

He'd left everything intact because he'd assumed that someday he'd be the one climbing those limbs and fixing up the boards for his own kids. He'd figured someday a little girl with pigtails would spin herself silly on that tire swing, after he put on a new rope.

But when? His dad had worked sixty hours a week, but had still managed to find time to build Joshua a tree house, had still managed to take him camping and teach him survival skills, had still managed to tell him stories at night and take him to rent his first tuxedo for prom.

Josh shook his head. Why hadn't
he
managed to strike that kind of balance in his own life? Was it because he was balancing two demanding jobs?

Or was he balancing two demanding jobs so he wouldn't have to think too hard about why he was still too damn gun-shy to do anything more than pursue throwaway, casual dates?

Usually, on a night like tonight, he'd have welcomed the end play he'd just gotten slapped with.
It was fun, thank you, good night, and let's never speak of this again.
It was a casual dater's dream, but when Delaney had delivered similar words, it had felt like knives were slicing through his gut.

But why?

Was it because there was nothing casual about the woman? Was it because kissing her felt like holding precious porcelain? Was it because once he had his lips on hers, it was all he could do to keep things from heating up too fast, too far?

He sighed. Or was it because she was the one who'd called it a wrap, rather than him?

Just then, the phone rang, startling him. He automatically looked at his watch, wondering if something was wrong up at Avery's House. He braced himself before he answered, trying to sound less agitated than he felt.

“You owe me ten bucks.” Molly's voice came over the line before he even said hello.

He shook his head, smiling. “For what?”

“She ordered salad and sparkling water last night. With lime. I called it perfectly.”

“Yes, you did. But she also ordered the special, so actually, I think we're even.” There was unusual silence on the other end of the line. “But I imagine that's not why you're calling.”

“I don't have any ulterior motives here. Just checking in to see if you had fun at the party. And to thank you for surprising me.”

He sighed. Molly was the queen of ulterior motives. “You're welcome. And yes. It was a good party.”

“How about the after party?”

“There was an after party?” With his free hand, he rubbed his temple, trying to keep up the charade Delaney had forced upon him. “Why wasn't I invited?”

Molly growled on the other end of the line. “Don't play dense with me, Josh.
You're
the one who headed out for an after party. The rest of us just want to know how it went.”

“It was—fine.”

“Fine.” Her tone was mocking.

“Yes, fine.”

“I'm afraid I require more detail than that, mister.”

“Molly?”

She sighed. “I know. I
know
it's none of my business, but you're my oldest, best friend besides Josie. And I've never seen you look at anybody the way you were looking at Delaney tonight. And then you give me
fine
? It's desperately unfair.”

“I'm sorry.” He smiled sadly, wishing right now that things had ended differently with Delaney … wishing right now that he could do the sly, I'm-not-telling-you-nuthin' thing that would tell Molly that things had gone perfectly, but he wasn't talking.

But they hadn't.

Well, they
had
. Until the end.

“Be careful, Josh.”

Too late, Mols.

Molly sighed, and it was one of those long, drawn-out ones that made him wish he could read the female mind. “It didn't look like you hate each other.”

“Well, that's terrifying.”

“And she's pretty.”

“Yes.”
God, yes
. “She's attractive.”

“Oh, seriously. She's drag-home-to-bed-and-then-have-Sunday-brunch-
in-
bed pretty.”

He sighed, running a hand through hair that was probably already sticking straight up, given the number of times he'd done it since he'd followed Delaney back to her condo, giving a quick, pretend-careless wave as she went inside, then driving back to his huge, empty house on Sugar Maple Drive.

“Nobody's dragging anybody home, Mols.”

“Don't sleep with her, Josh. Just promise me you won't sleep with her.”

He sighed. Again. It was too late for the third degree. “Mols, I love you like a sister, but I'm pretty sure you don't get to vet who I do or don't bring home.”

“Even if I can already tell she'll take you to heaven and hell, maybe in the same week?”

Oh, he already knew that.

“Even if, yes.” He took a sip of his beer. “And can I just point out that you're making an awful lot of suppositions based on meeting her exactly twice?”

“I'm a watcher. You know that. And her body language was all
about
getting you in bed.”

He got a secret thrill hearing Molly's words, then kicked himself as she spoke again.

“Just one more thing.”

He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “One more thing.”

“Be careful. Her motives might not be as pure as they seem.”

“Motives? What?” He shook his head. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Molly paused. “I'm just saying—if her job's at risk, and doing something momentous with your department might save it … then maybe she's got other goals here. Besides getting you into bed, I mean.”

No.
He couldn't have imagined the way her fingers had heated under his touch. She couldn't have made her own cheeks blush when he'd looked at her for one beat too long. He definitely couldn't have imagined the look of desire in her eyes as they'd kissed.

“Sorry,” Molly continued. “Not trying to shoot your evening all to heck, but I just think it's worth—a little caution. Lesser women than her have used their cute laughs and little sundresses to get what they want.”

*   *   *

On Monday morning, Delaney was trying to finish up three reports that were due Friday, but her concentration was completely shot. As hard as she tried to focus on the figures on her screen, her mind kept flipping back to Saturday night.

Even before they'd snuck off to the lake—because, if she was being honest, that's exactly what they'd done—she'd felt an unusual sense of peace sitting in that Bellinis booth with Joshua's friends. She'd expected to feel awkward and out of place among a sea of strangers, but everyone had made her feel like she'd actually been on the guest list in the first place.

As she'd sipped that sinfully delicious lemonade and dished on Josie's shared addiction to the reality show that sent contestants all over the world in teams, she'd felt a sense of belonging she really hadn't expected … and she'd liked it—a lot. When she'd moved here from the city five years ago, she hadn't expected to blend right into small-town life, but she hadn't expected it to be quite so hard to find a new peer group, either. Sometimes it felt like everyone in Echo Lake had grown up here, and they already had enough friends, thank you very much.

But to be honest, between her hours at the hospital and the fact that she was much more comfortable with a book than a stranger, she hadn't really made a Herculean effort in that department, either.

And then there was the Joshua piece of the equation. As she'd watched him talk with his high school buddies, as she'd scooted over to make room in their booth, as they'd talked and laughed with Ethan and Josie, she'd found herself imagining what it might be like if they truly
were
on a date. He'd been attentive and funny and sweet, and she shivered when she remembered him leaning close and asking if she wanted to head out.

It had sounded so innocent, but so—not.

But all of her daydreams paled in comparison to their first kiss—and all of the ones that followed. Holy hotness—the man definitely knew his way around a kiss.

“Hey. Dreamer-girl.” Megan stepped into her office, closing the door behind her. “One kiss, and it's like you've been struck with adult ADD or something.”

Delaney blinked hard, trying to clear her head. “This is why women get stupid.”

“Hormones'll get you every time.” Megan nodded sagely as she sat down in the guest chair. “Just sucks that these particular hormones aren't very well-timed.”

“You think?” Delaney blew out a breath, trying to erase the memory of the look on Joshua's face when he'd held her car door for her in the driveway at Avery's House Saturday night.

“Okay. Focus.” Megan snapped her fingers in front of Delaney's face. “
Globe
reporter's on her way up. You ready? Or do I need to stall her while you clear Dr. Mackenzie out of your head?”

Ha.
Dr. Joshua Mackenzie was
firmly
lodged in her head this morning. There was nothing she was going to be able to do about it.

But Amanda Sleighton was currently in an elevator heading Delaney's way, and since the reporter was Delaney's best chance to save both Joshua's department and her own job, she really needed to push Saturday night out of her mind and focus on the task at hand.

“Do you have your notes?” Megan pointed to Delaney's desk, which was uncharacteristically messy this morning. “You ready?”

Delaney took a deep breath. “Ready.”

Not ready. Not ready at all.

*   *   *

Forty-five minutes later, Amanda was ensconced in her guest chair, notebook open, hammering Delaney with what felt like a hundred questions at a time. The reporter was at the top of her game for a reason, and Delaney was experiencing that reason first-hand. Amanda was as smart as she was pretty, and knew this feature series was going to be just the kind of heartstrings-pulling one that people loved. She was giving it 110 percent, and Delaney could appreciate her drive.

If that drive somehow helped them keep pediatrics thriving at Mercy, all the better.

“So…” Amanda leaned forward. “I think I have what I need to get started down on the floor. But I need to know your goals for this feature.”

“To be blunt, I would like this feature to scare up enough donors to keep Mercy's pediatric department in the black for years to come.”

“So the rumors I'm hearing are true?”

Delaney paused. In a way, she wished she could dish to Amanda, be the source-who-cannot-be-revealed in a startling expose that would prevent the board from decimating pediatrics. Unfortunately, it'd be all too obvious who the source had been. Delaney's hands were tied.

“I'm sorry, Amanda. You know I can't comment on that.”

Amanda shrugged. “It was worth a try.” Then she smiled. “Okay. So how do you think we should approach this?”

“I was hoping you'd ask.”

 

Chapter 18

Half an hour later, Delaney knocked on Charlotte's door and motioned Amanda through. “And this is Charlotte. She's our twelve-year-old diva-in-training.”

Charlotte laughed her gravelly laugh as she rolled her eyes and stood up to greet Amanda Sleighton.

Amanda shook her hand, smiling warmly. “Thanks so much for letting me hang out with you for a few minutes.” She pointed to Charlotte's braids, which Delaney had scrambled to do just a few minutes ago. “I love your hair.”

Charlotte touched her head gingerly as she sat back down on her bed. “Delaney did it. She's got mad hair skills.”

“Oh, really? Think she could do something with
my
mop?”

Delaney and Charlotte laughed together. The reporter had glistening, perfectly salon-sculpted waves, and Delaney imagined she tipped her Boston colorist
very
well for the shades of blond cascading through her hair.

For the next half hour, Amanda made seemingly casual conversation with Charlotte, and Delaney marveled at how the woman was able to get so personal without the girl really even noticing.

“Do you ever go to summer camp?” Amanda asked, after their first conversational lull in a full sixty minutes.

Charlotte shook her head. “No. My parents can't really”—she shrugged—“we're just really busy in the summertime.”

Amanda nodded, smiling. “Would you
like
to go to camp someday? If it were possible?”

“Definitely. Horse camp. Sleepover.” Charlotte smiled, but a cough wiped away the look on her face. “But camps don't really have anybody who's trained to give me my treatments.”

Amanda looked thoughtful, then like she was hatching a plan. “Charlotte, have you ever been on television?”

“Me?” The girl's eyes widened. “No.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Um.” Charlotte glanced at Delaney, her eyes mystified. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I happen to have a network buddy who's covering another story up here today, and you are a very, very cool twelve-year-old. Plus, you have camera-ready hair.” Charlotte laughed nervously. “If I called him to come over here later, do you think you'd be willing to talk to him on-camera? Just kind of like we just did?”