His Perfect Woman (Harlequin Superromance) (12 page)

Around midnight she'd given up all pretense of resting and before long, she'd scribbled two pages of potential projects for the fund-raiser. Now to set to work putting them into a semblance of order, get Bryan's okay and start to work. But how could she concentrate after the near-miss last night?

Bryan had almost kissed her—again—and while she knew she'd done the right thing and gotten out of there fast, the thought of Bryan kissing her sent heat blazing through her body to areas still tingling with unfulfilled need from the first time. She'd had a long, lonely night and a lot of unanswered questions, the first of which was what to make of Bryan's behavior?

He wasn't coming off the excited high of delivering a baby, which meant what?
Why
would he want to kiss her knowing what he knew about her? She honestly didn't get it. Maybe she was thinking about it
too
much? Sex was sex, after all. To a guy, anyway. And he'd turned down Amanda Warner's offer so maybe…Bryan was simply in the mood? Thought she was so desperate she'd accept any crumb of affection he might toss her way?

But would he be interested in making love to her?
That was definitely something she had no business thinking about.

“I'm glad you're here.”

She looked up and quickly smoothed her expression. Bryan stood before her in wash-worn jeans and a green T-shirt, his feet bare, his hair damp and fingered back over his head. It curled slightly at the ends, and she wondered once again what it would be like to touch before she mentally stomped the thought. Professionalism,
friendship,
was key.

“We said we'd work on the fund-raiser today. If you made other plans, that's fine, I just need your okay on a few things to get started.”

“Melissa, about last night—”

She pushed by him and into the hallway. “I put together a list I want you to see.”

Keeping things all business must've worked because Bryan's eyes lost some of their intensity. She couldn't read
his thoughts, but he followed her down the long hall to the reception area. Along the way she turned on all the lights so there weren't any shadows, waited until he chose a seat and then sat across from him rather than beside him.

It was best to keep things professional. There was no reason to believe for a second she could compete with the women in Bryan's life. She couldn't. Nor could she ever match Bryan's perfection and feel adequate.

What woman could live with feeling second-rate?

 

T
HE NEXT WEEK PASSED
in a blur of paperwork, gossip and fund-raising chaos. Neither of them spoke of the near-kiss in the park, and an hour after they closed on Friday, Bryan bent over the art paper Melissa had squared off and stared at the two-inch portion she wrote inside of. “What am I looking at again?”

“Eat and let me finish,” she said with a grin. “The noise from your stomach is driving me nuts.”

Happy to comply, Bryan watched as she continued to work, the pen in her right hand flying over the page, pausing every now and again so she could take a bite of the food she'd insisted he heat up on the stove rather than microwave.

Finally she set the pen aside. “Phase one complete,” she drawled contentedly. “For as long as I can remember the EMTs in Baxter have had a running competition with my dad and his men. That competitiveness is going to be our first moneymaker.”

“How so?”

“Basketball. For a price, they can play against one another tournament style until we have a champion.”

“What's that?” he asked, pointing to another square where she'd organized the groups across the page horizontally, the events vertically. “Cook-offs? You've got to be kidding me.”

“Hey, don't knock it until you see the results. You think guys are competitive? You haven't seen anything until you put Mrs. McCleary's Irish Stew against Maddie Harper's Vegetable Medley. Toss in the rest of the First Christian Church's Disaster Aid Team members because they feel ignored over the fuss made over Mrs. Harper and Mrs. McCleary, and you've got a huge cook-off on your hands.”

“So where does all of this food go then? What if there isn't an emergency?”

Melissa gave him a tolerant smile. “You've never done anything like this before, have you? Hopefully there won't
be
an emergency. That way we can sell the food per plate and make even more than the entry fees charged.”

Almost afraid to ask what she'd come up with that involved the high school boys' soccer league and the varsity cheerleaders, he pointed to the next square and received another explanation. And another. And another. The basketball tournament coincided with the cook-off, the bake sale went along with a kid's festival featuring games and inflatables the kids could pay to play in.

“I ran into Mrs. H. this morning. She said she'd get her friends at the retirement center in on the bake sale and recommended an online company the school uses for the game prizes. I spoke with the mayor, too, and we can use the park. He's waiving the permits and fees. Oh, and the riverboat captain said he'd furnish the boat and the crew, and that so long as we covered the fuel and insurance, we could charge whatever admission we wanted free and clear of him.”

Bryan stared down at the grid covered in Melissa's neat handwriting and tried to suppress his excitement. If she could pull this off and get everyone involved… Was that number the—

“Yup. Enough for the estimated groundbreaking and con
struction start,” she told him with a proud smile. “And that's without digging into the money you've got saved. I'm sure we'll need it later to finish things up, but this will get us started, and I've gotten confirmed commitments from almost everyone.” Her grin widened. “I perfected a spiel about E.R. trips saved, the safety of the sports players getting care sooner and, um, told them about how important it is that stroke victims get care right away. If that didn't work, I hit them with your grandfather's name and how it's his life's dream. They caved every time. Next I'll put together a list of local businesses, other civic groups and the like and offer them advertising in the flyers in exchange for donations while, of course, urging their individual participation for the good of Taylorsville. Work for you?”

He stared into her beautiful, silvery-blue eyes and smiled. “Yeah, it does. Melissa, you did it.”

“Pretty cool now that you can see it all spread out, huh?”

“This is way more than cool, this is
incredible
.”

“Don't thank me yet. We still have to finish organizing it all.”

“You think a big gala is the way to end things?”

“Absolutely. People around here never get a chance to dress up and show off. I say we do all the normal stuff first and play up the grand finale, let the excitement build, and then bring out the best for last. Taylorsville might be small, but it's cliquish, and if we make it a who's who special event, we'll be turning people away for lack of space. You going to eat the last of the noodles?”

Bryan laughed, happier than he'd been in ages. Granddad would get his dream after all. Thanks to Melissa. “No, have at it.”

He watched her dig in and shook his head, smiling, his
thoughts drifting. She ate with delicate relish, not the picky I-can't-gain-a-pound mantra so many women held and certainly not the poor appetite of a chemo patient.

That thought sobered him quickly. He was attracted to her, no doubt about it, but it couldn't lead to more. He needed to back off, let Nathan patch things up between them if he could.

She paused, swallowing. “Something wrong?”

“No. No, not at all,” he murmured, standing. “I think I'll get another drink though. How about you? Another water?”

“No. I'm good.”

Bryan headed for the kitchen, but along the way, he paused. “If it's not too much, I'd like to set up a timetable for all this. It's the end of August now. Think we can schedule these events over the next month as a kickoff to fall and plan the gala for early December? Pull the heartstrings and use the season to give incentive?”

She froze in the act of eating. “Oh, um… I don't know. I hadn't thought about it.”

He frowned at her expression. “You must have a date in mind?”

“No. Not—not really.”

Forgetting the need to escape and get a drink, he retraced his steps and stared down at her. “What am I missing here?”

“Nothing,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I'm just not— I don't usually plan that far in advance. I hadn't thought of that when I put this together.”

“We have to set a date to tell people when they need to sign up, get the orders in. None of this will ever happen unless we have a target date to get it done.”

“I know that.” Her mouth twisted and she looked down at her carefully drawn plan, pushing the box of Chinese away.

Sensing more to her hesitation and remembering he'd never had that talk he'd promised the chief that he'd have with her, Bryan squatted down beside her, intent on getting an answer. “Why don't you plan ahead?”

“B
ECAUSE
I
DON'T
have a crystal ball?”

Bryan scowled at her, not liking her cynical expression. “Knock off the comedy act and tell me.”

Melissa lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I'd made plans once and then… Now I just don't. That's it, no big, dark secret.”

“Why?”

“
Because
. I don't like to make plans I might not be able to keep, so I only ever schedule a week or so in advance.”

The reason tore through him and ripped out his heart. “Because of your cancer,” he murmured bluntly. “You won't make plans because of a cancer diagnosis that happened over
two years ago?
”

She shoved herself to her feet and moved away from him, but he followed her, glaring down at her with all the anger and frustration he felt because he didn't know whether to shake her or kiss her. Each held equal appeal.

“Don't,” she warned, eyes blazing, one finger raised up in warning. “Don't stand there and tell me how I should or shouldn't live my life. I don't make plans in advance. Big deal!”

“It is a big deal. That's what your dad meant that day in the B and B isn't it? About living with one foot in the grave?
I thought he meant because you don't date, but it's way more than that. Melissa— Dammit.”

“Don't swear at me!”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth. She had to fight. It was too important and if she gave up… “Attitude is
everything
with that da—with that disease and if you don't make plans, you're giving it free rein to come back! You're letting it win!”

“I'm doing no such thing!”

“Liar.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her hands fisted at her sides. In that moment she'd never been more beautiful, but now, Melissa seemed to be more vulnerable than ever because she'd experienced the worst a hard-core illness had to offer and come through the other side living half a life.

“How can I
not
think about dying? I nearly did. My mother and grandmother
did
—and who knows how many women in my family lost the battle before cancer was officially diagnosed? I
can't
plan anything beyond my next test because I don't know what'll happen when I step foot into my oncologist's office. I don't
know
if I'll be able to keep the plans I've made, or what shape I'll be in when some future date comes around so why—” She shook her head, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes before she wiped them away. “
Why
put myself through that? I'd think you of all people would understand.”

“I understand how frightening—”

“
Frightening?
Oh, please. You and my father are too alike in a lot of ways. Good grief, how scary is that? You're a doctor, Bryan. You know exactly what it's like to watch someone die, but you still think I should have some Pollyanna outlook on life? It's way more than ‘frightening.' How can you stand there and blame me for being cautious?”

He stared at Melissa and thought of the way she'd told him about her mastectomy that day in the car, how brave she'd been. Now it was his turn. His heart thundered in his chest, but he had to get through to her, knew Rachel would want him to. “Melissa, I don't blame you. You're right, I do know what it's like, because I performed my residency in a hospital specializing in cancer treatments and I saw…I saw a lot, okay? And I saw more when my ex-girlfriend showed up one day and I realized she was there for an appointment and not to see me.”

Melissa swallowed tightly. “She died.”

He nodded. “She died,” Bryan whispered huskily. “I worked with some of the best doctors in the country, but we couldn't save her, couldn't heal her. And after a particularly rough day, I couldn't take it anymore. The moment she opened her eyes, I told her I was quitting medicine, giving up my career because I didn't have what it took to be a doctor.” A smile crossed his lips. “She looked me straight in the eyes and called me a loser. She did,” he confirmed when Melissa glanced at him in surprise. “She said I couldn't quit, because nothing would be gained if I did, and I owed it to her to be the doctor I'd always wanted to be. We'd broken things off because of the schedules we kept with jobs and school. She refused to let me make that sacrifice worthless.”

“She sounds like a strong, wonderful person.”

“She was. And so are you,” he told her firmly, holding her gaze for as long as she was able. When she looked away, he continued, determined. “The point I'm trying to make is that you can't stop living, Melissa. If you do, nothing is gained even though you've sacrificed everything in the process.”

She blinked away tears but didn't speak.

“When Rachel was gone, I left that facility and got a job
at another hospital. I couldn't handle seeing those patients I treated on a daily basis because we got the worst of the disease, were their last hope. But even though I couldn't handle not being able to help them, I could help others and be a damn good doctor while I was at it. Colds, broken bones,
quality of life.
To some people it might not be as important as what I did back East, but to me, it was. It is.” Bryan shook his head. “I didn't give up even though I wanted to, Melissa, and neither can you. I can argue with you about planning future events because
you
are still here. Taking precautions is one thing, but considering yourself cancer-
postponed
instead of cancer-
free
is no way to live. You're healthy. You fought a horrendous battle, but
you won
. And you deserve to live life no matter how the future plays out. Why shortchange yourself by living in fear?”

“You ask me why after
losing
her?”

“You got a second chance!”

“Maybe I did, but would
you
put someone through that if you could help it? I
can't!
Planning ahead or being with someone would only make dying that much more painful because I'd know I was hurting them, too!”

He stalked away from her, blinking rapidly to combat the burning in his eyes. He couldn't picture Melissa like that. Wouldn't. “You shouldn't think that way. Shouldn't be that way when you have—”

“Oh, please.” She followed the comment up with a laugh, the sound full of unshed tears. “Don't stand there and tell me how I should be. Not when you just told me a heartbreaking story that has me thinking your grandfather is right.”

He swung around to face her. “Right about what?”

Melissa lifted her chin, her posture defensive. “He has a theory about why you sleep around.”

Bryan ran a hand through his hair. “For the love of— I've made some mistakes, but I've always taken precautions and everyone knew the score. There's no theory behind that.”

Her cheeks took on a pretty blush. “Really? Some people might look at those ‘mistakes' and think they were made because you're still mourning the woman you loved.”

“That was a long time ago. We'd been broken up for a long time, too. I…I cared for her once, thought I was in love, but it was little more than a college crush.”

“That makes it worse, Bryan, don't you see? You only cared for this girl and yet you were ready to give up your life, your livelihood, because of what happened.” Melissa narrowed her eyes. “It
scared
you, and I understand that.”

No doubt she did, but— “Why would Granddad say something like that to you?”

Melissa ducked her head and turned away. “That's not important. What is important is that before you examine my life, you need to look at yours. You sleep around, keep things casual. Why, Bryan? Do you really not know? Your grandfather thinks you want to forget her, but I think it's because you don't want to get hurt again.”

“We weren't a couple,” he argued. “We weren't even in love.”

“I understand that. You didn't love her, but her death affected you more than you realized it would. What would happen if the woman you
loved
got sick? How would you feel then? I think that's why you keep everyone at arm's length.”

“We're not discussing me.”

“What's amazing is that you're still a wonderful doctor with a great bedside manner, but I've noticed something,” she drawled. “You don't make eye contact with your patients. You study their charts, you listen to their symptoms. But you don't look at them.”

“I look at them.” He winced at his excusatory tone.

“You don't, not really. Oh, a cursory glance and a smile, sure, lots of teasing if they're fairly healthy, which most of your patients are, but the others—” she shook her head “—you don't. You see them, but you don't connect.” She fingered a book on a shelf, the latest bestseller he hadn't had time to read. “Bryan, I'm not
judging
you. I—I understand that need to disappear, to forget and yet be able to feel again. I—I even envy your ability to keep things casual and pull away before things get serious.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Sometimes I think if I were normal…”

That brought him out of his stupor. “What do you mean, if you were normal?”