His Perfect Woman (Harlequin Superromance) (3 page)

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely.” She pulled herself from her thoughts with a self-deprecating grin. “Get real. Bryan Booker has his choice of women fawning all over him. He wouldn't want someone like me.”

Moving faster than she'd ever seen him move, her father closed the distance between them, gripped her shoulders and slid one hand to her chin to tilt her face up to his. “
You
are a beautiful young woman. Nathan might not have been able to handle things, but your mother had the same surgery and we—”

“Stop!” Melissa closed her eyes in a grimace and raised both her hands in a pleading gesture. “
Stop,
Dad, please. I mean it, do
not
give me any more mental images to deal with today. Walking in on you groping the social worker was a sight I'll never be able to obliterate from my brain. Besides,” she continued when her father released a gruff laugh chock-full of embarrassment, “
you
are a special man and what you and Mom had was special.” Opening her eyes, she blinked up at him. “Don't you remember?”

His hands dropped to his sides. “Of course I remember.” The scowl returned, making him look older. “The point is, there are men out there who'd understand what you've gone through if you'd only give them a chance.”

She smiled drily. “We'll just have to agree to disagree there. I think Nathan is a more accurate example of the male species.” She shrugged, looking away. “I understand why he backed off, and I don't blame him.”

“Mel—”

“But it doesn't matter because I'm not ready for that, and if I
were,
” she emphasized before he could interrupt her again, “we've
both
heard of Bang 'em Booker's reputation. He'd be the last person I'd choose and I'm quite sure Bryan feels the same way about me. For pity's sake, we used to dare each other to eat worms.”

Her father studied her closely. “So long as you're aware of the talk.”

“I am, and you have nothing to worry about,” she stated firmly. “Who knows if I'll even get the job, or accept it if I do? Now, can we get back to what caused these sudden realizations?” She raised a brow, hugged her arms around her stomach and tried to release the tension in her neck and shoulders because she knew it was bad for her. “You're dating again… Are you using birth control?”

“Mel!”
Eyes wide and horrified, her dad turned away, his strides carrying him swiftly to the other side of the room. “You can't talk to your old man that way.”

She'd rattled him. Good. Maybe it would get his focus off her. “You're only forty-seven. Everyone knows men can produce—”

“I am
not
having this conversation with my daughter.” He groaned long and low. “It was bad enough when I
realized I hadn't had it with you. Now you're trying to give
me
the sex talk?”

She laughed softly, amazed at what time and distance could do to otherwise pain-filled memories. “Fair's fair.”

“Hey, Chief!” Nathan's booming voice echoed through the building and bounced off the walls. “Mayor's here! Mel, where's that spatula? My burgers are burnin'!”

Her father's shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you, God. Mel, we'll talk more later. Duty calls.”

She shook her head while watching him rush from the room. “Saved by the bellow,” she murmured, opening a drawer and retrieving the spatula Nathan needed. Gripping it tight, she smirked. Maybe she could hand it to him without slapping it upside his head. Then again—maybe not.

 

B
RYAN WOULD'VE LIKED
to talk with Melissa more about the interview and position, but found himself back in his practice within moments of stepping outside the police station. A child running across the pavement had tripped and fallen, colliding with another on the way down. Both kids needed stitches and he'd instructed the parents to bring them to his office.

He patched up the second child's head one stitch at a time to minimize scarring and wanted the long day to be over. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't had dinner…or lunch. “Almost done, buddy. You're doing great.”

The little boy sniffled softly, big tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes. The kid's mom comforted the child, allowing Bryan to complete two more stitches before tying off the special thread. He added clear bandage cream to the top and straightened.

“Done,” he said, winking. “And since you held still and allowed your friend to go first, I think you deserve a treat.”

The boy looked to his mother and she smiled. “Don't forget to say thank you.”

“Thank you,” the kid repeated dutifully, knuckling his eyes.

Bryan smiled and pulled off his gloves, moving to the cabinet across the room where he kept stickers and candy stashed on the top shelf. “Think you'll ever forget to tie those shoelaces again?”

The boy's dark head jerked back and forth. “Stupid shoes.”

A noise in the doorway drew his attention, and Bryan turned to see Melissa standing outside. An anxious expression crossed her face, her startling blue eyes solemn.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. The door was unlocked.”

“You're not intruding. We're done, right, buddy?” Bryan handed the boy a handful of stickers and a sour candy before lifting him from the exam table. After giving the mom a few instructions, the woman and child hurried out of the room and then he and Melissa were alone.

She shifted nervously and shoved her hands into her back pockets, the move stretching the material of her loose T-shirt a little more snugly across her small chest. Bryan tried hard not to notice. What was her treatment? A lumpectomy? Maybe a mastectomy? It wasn't any of his business, but having spent his residency in one of the top cancer-treatment centers in the country, the doctor in him was curious.

“So…did you mean it?”

His eyebrows rose. No niceties, no small talk. Definitely not a flirtatious tone. Just straight to the point though a bit shy. He liked it. Her behavior was quite a change from the norm, a reminder of the girl he'd known. “The job is very real, and so is my offer of an interview.” He began putting the medical supplies away. “How did the toy drive go? Does Santa have a big haul?”

“The bin was filled three times at last count.” She moved over to where he stood and picked up the liquid numbing agent, handing the bottle to him. “But the, um, guys got called out on a domestic-violence run, and Ellen Morton left to take one of her elderly cases to the hospital.”

He glanced her way. “Any names mentioned?”

Melissa lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “My dad said something about Crimshaw Road. I…didn't talk to Ms. Morton much.”

After witnessing Melissa's earlier surprise firsthand, Bryan wasn't about to touch that subject. He finished putting the supplies away in a cabinet and yanked the paper sheeting from the table with a jerk. “Sounds like we're all having a busy night. Does this mean you're interested in the job?”

She stared at him as though measuring his words. “Actually…I came to say thank you.”

“For what?”

A brief smile touched her lips. “Because you heard them,” she stated bluntly, “saw my not-so-subtle reaction and guessed my pride had me lying about the lead I mentioned—which I was. But you backed me up anyway. Thanks.”

Bryan smiled. “What are friends for? Anyone else would've done the same.”

“Maybe. The problem is that I don't want a job offer because you feel sorry for me. So thanks, but I'm sure I'll find something else soon.”

“Melissa, wait.” Bryan caught her arm before she could leave the room. Maybe he did feel sorry for her, but he certainly wasn't about to confirm it, not when pity was obviously the last thing she wanted. Acutely aware of how delicate she felt beneath his palm, he released her. “I feel sorry for
me,
okay? I just spent the last two hours patching up a couple
squirming kids, and both parents left without paying me even though I saved them a trip to the E.R. in Baxter.”

She blinked. “Really? They just
left?
”

He put the last of the supplies away. “Yeah. Maybe they'll stop by Monday to settle up, but who knows? It doesn't matter because I don't know how to enter payments into the computer system, and I haven't had any luck with the temp agency.”

“You sound desperate.”

He felt the heat of her stare and noted how her eyes had narrowed and her arms were crossed over her front. Unease slid over him and he knew exactly what she was going to ask next.

“So this job offer has nothing to do with you feeling bad about being the one to tell me how…my baby really died?”

B
RYAN LEVELED
his gaze on hers and frowned. “No.”

“No?” Her chin lifted. “What about my medical history, then? Does that bother you?”

He leaned against the exam table, his temper rising because of the challenge he heard in her voice. If she didn't want the job, fine. All the better for him. Being around her, knowing what she'd experienced, brought back too many memories. “You couldn't have prevented Josie's death,” he murmured, focusing on her questions and shoving the past away. “Too many factors played into her reaction to the medication, none of which were in your control. Your health, her premature birth. I imagine you and Joe will always maintain a certain feeling of guilt as Josie's parents, but you couldn't have done anything differently. Guilt is like that. All-consuming,” he stated knowledgeably. “And while I'm sorry your baby girl died, that's not why I offered you the interview. As to your other question, what kind of doctor would I be if your cancer diagnosis didn't bother me?”

“I meant—”

“But I wouldn't not hire you because of it,” he stated firmly. “Melissa, I have a business to run and patients to care for and I can't help but think that your experiences will give you a little more patience and empathy in comparison to some of the others I've interviewed.”

“I…thank you,” she murmured dazedly, blinking. “I'd like to think it would.”

“I take it the diagnosis has kept other potential employers from hiring you?”

She nodded, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her blue eyes soft, untrusting, and yet hopeful. It was the hope that got to him. Ellen had no right to dump this—her—on him, but he only had himself to blame. For not saying no, for letting the battle-weary hope in Melissa's eyes remind him of someone else. He should send her on her way, ignore Ellen, but he couldn't and he knew it.

Bryan shoved himself off the exam table and kept going, conscious she followed him into the waiting area. Facing her, he indicated the front desk with a hand.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the mess.

“This isn't an easy job. My last full-time person updated the computer system before she quit, and I'm no help at all figuring it out. Janice Reynolds is my R.N., but she only handles patients, not the phones, the files or the insurance forms that have to be filed. You'd handle those administrative responsibilities
and
take charge of planning a major fund-raiser that'll require working extra hours. And you'd earn every penny I pay you and all the benefits provided. Are you interested?”

“Getting insurance for me won't be cheap.”

“It never is.”

“What's the fund-raiser for?”

“An urgent-care clinic. Too many people have suffered irreversible damage from their injuries during the drive to Baxter. With a clinic, they could be stabilized and then sent on to the hospital or better yet, not have to make the trip at all.”

She nibbled her lower lip. “Any estimate of cost?”

“Half a million to start.”

“You're serious.”

“Very.” Bryan waited, torn between wanting her to refuse and recognizing Melissa might well be his only hope of getting his office under control again. During their conversation, Melissa hadn't once sent him any coy glances, hadn't flirted or murmured come-ons. Nothing. And her cancer?

Once again Bryan blocked the memories trying to surface, the pain that demanded he take a step back and keep Melissa as far away from him as possible.
If
he hired her, she would be an employee, he reminded himself. Nothing else. “Are you still interested after seeing and hearing what you'd be getting yourself into?”

“Yes.”

He wasn't expecting that as her answer. “Then how about a trial run? A few weeks from now if this is working out for both of us, fine. If not, we'll go our separate ways with no hard feelings and two weeks' severance?” He added the latter for his conscience's sake.

The muscles of Melissa's throat worked as she swallowed. Bryan waited and watched, aware of how her eyes projected her thoughts. Her eagerness to dive in and get started on the challenge he'd just tossed out.

“The, um, position—is it hourly or salary?”

He stated the specifics and waited again.

Another blink. Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown, but then she squared her shoulders and nodded. “I'll take it.”

Bryan smiled despite the uncertainty pouring through him. “Then I guess I'll see you on Monday.”

 

H
AL BANGED
on the door of Dr. Booker's practice with the frustration of a man who had better things to do. Like find
the slimeball punk who considered the girl in his arms a punching bag. “Booker, open up!”

He heard the sound of running footsteps across the floor of the old house, the chirp of an alarm being disarmed and a lock sliding free. He was relieved the doc was home instead of out partying around town. The rumors had the number of women Booker was involved with in the double digits.

Finally the door swung open. “Is this the domestic-violence case?”

Hal didn't ask how Booker knew. He simply nodded and stepped inside carefully, trying not to jostle the young woman sagging against him. The girl's dark hair was caked with blood, her delicate features and stare stark with pain. “She refused to go to the hospital, but if she checks out okay, Ellen said she could spend the night at her place.”

“I want to go home,” the girl gasped, her voice reedy and high.

“What's your name?” Booker asked.

“Anna…Anna Pritchard.”

Hal half carried the young woman into the first exam room and, together with the doc, helped her onto the table. “I'll wait in the hall.” He left the small room, but positioned himself on the wall outside the open door so he could hear everything that took place inside.

“I changed my mind. I want to go home,” she repeated, her clenched teeth making her words slur together. “M-my boyfriend will take care of me.”

“Let me treat you first. It'll only take a little while.” When she didn't protest, Booker got to work. “Anna, what happened to you?”

“Nothing. I—I tripped over something and fell.”

The doc paused long enough to slide his patient a disbe
lieving glance before going back to what he'd been doing. “Must've been some fall. Anna, we know of a safe place for you to stay tonight. Or maybe you'd like us to call your parents? A friend?” Booker checked her eyes with a mini-light, his protective rubber gloves tinged with the girl's blood.

“No, I—no one.”

“Not even your boyfriend?”

She set her jaw, but whether it was to fight against the pain or in deference to the doc's words, Hal couldn't judge.

“Then you can stay with Ellen. She won't mind at all.” The doc glanced at Hal quickly, a slight smirk to his lips. “You'll be safe, and I'm sure the chief won't have a problem with hanging out nearby.”

Hal glared at Booker. His relationship with Ellen was certainly healthier than anything the playboy doc could claim. Which made Hal wonder again: Would Booker really leave Mel alone?

“I can't stay there—I want to go home.”

The doc's expression hardened. “Sweetheart, if you go back there, you're putting yourself at risk. You realize that, don't you? Abusive situations only get worse. Your boyfriend—”

“I fell.”

“Anna, you need to get out.
Tonight
.”

Anna shook her head but didn't say anything.

The doc listened to her breathing. “How old are you?”

The girl wet her lips, wincing because the lower one was split. “Eighteen.”

“You look younger.”

“I'll be nineteen soon. In a few months.”

Straightening, the doc lifted his hands, gently inserting his fingers into her hair. “Will you let us take some pictures of the bruises?”

Eyes low, she shook her head. “Nothing happened. I just tripped over something, that's all. I bruise easily.”

“The chief and I will back you up in court. You have nothing to be afraid of. You can end it now and the guy who did this will go to jail. You'll be free.”

The young woman's face crumpled with tears momentarily before she pulled herself together. “I'm all right! Stop giving me such a hard time, okay? Nothing h-happened!”

“Shh…calm down.” Booker braced his hands on either side of Anna's knees, hunkering down until his nose nearly touched hers.

Hal shifted, uncomfortable with the sight until he realized that with his change of position, he got an unfettered view of the doc's face and was able to see the other man's upset and anger—emotions the doc apparently tried to get across to a girl who thought it normal to be knocked around. Despite the man's reputation for using women and tossing them aside, his impression of Booker went up a notch.

“Take it easy. Honey, listen to me, okay? You are eighteen years old. It's Friday night. You should be out having fun with your friends,
not
getting beaten up by some jerk who doesn't appreciate you. Before you say you fell again, let me show you something. See those marks right there on your shoulder? That's where he smashed your skin between his fist and your bones. Those bruises right there?” He pointed. “That's where he grabbed you so tight he bruised you. I can tell the difference between someone falling and someone getting beaten, Anna. So can a lot of other people.”

Hands clasped tightly in her lap, Anna looked away from the doctor's gaze and picked at a broken nail, tears trickling silently down her cheeks. “M-my head hurts…and my s-side. Can you… Do you have anything you c-can give me?”

Mouth tight, Booker hesitated a long moment before he shoved himself away from the table and walked the two steps it took to get to a cabinet. “I need to watch you for a little while to make sure you don't have a concussion before I can give you any meds,” he informed her. “But I'll give you some later when you leave.”

“Thank you.”

“Taking the meds will ease the hurt now, but they won't do you any good next time, Anna.” The doc turned back to the counter and ripped a bandage partially open in preparation for using it. “So tell me, how'd it feel?”

The doc's voice was quiet, soft, like he wasn't asking her hard questions, but was merely discussing the weather. Hal had to give him credit, he was getting the point across without raising his voice or yelling, something the girl probably wasn't used to.

“Were you scared he wouldn't stop?”

Anna sniffled and dropped her chin. A nod?

“Scared he'd do more?” Booker got to work on her scrapes and cuts, murmuring all the while. Little comments about how he thought women should be treated, how if her boyfriend loved her, he wouldn't hit her. Through it all Anna stayed quiet, fighting tears the entire time or else hissing in pain when the doc checked her sore ribs and declared them bruised but not broken. Her sprained wrist needed to be wrapped, her index finger splinted, but surprisingly, she didn't have a concussion, just a bloody cut and bump.

“I'll get you some samples for the pain.”

Anna nodded gratefully, but when he was about to move away from her, she reached out and touched his arm. “Is it… Are you going to take pictures?”

Hal straightened at the question.

“Think you might give the chief a chance to use them?”

“I fell,” she murmured stubbornly. “But if i-it happens again…”

“Knock, knock!” Ellen's greeting announced her arrival and she entered the practice through the unlocked door, hurrying toward him. “Sorry it took me so long. I had a couple more calls that had to be dealt with. Must be something in the air tonight.”

“Ellen? Come on in,” Booker called.

“How is she?” Ellen paused inside the exam room. “Oh, honey.”

Hal listened with half an ear while Booker introduced Anna to Ellen. Before he had finished, the girl started to cry. Whatever Anna hadn't seen in the two men, she saw in Ellen because the young woman immediately reached for her with a sob. Ellen wrapped Anna in her arms and rocked her back and forth on the exam table, smoothing her hand over her hair and crooning softly.

In that second, he thought of Mel, of how she could've used a woman's touch during her illness. If she'd give Ellen a chance, he knew they could be friends. Would Mel be all right on her own?

Sometimes he wasn't too sure.

 

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Melissa got out of her car and smoothed her hands over her hips to wipe away the moisture. The reception desk had been an awful mess last night. So much so she'd dreamed about stacks and stacks of paper towering above her head and weaving back and forth, ready to topple on her. No way could she face the mess, the patients, the gossip
and
Bryan all at the same time.

She raised her hand, paused when nerves balked, then
forced herself to knock on the door. A window above her opened, and Melissa shaded her eyes with her hand, stifling a gasp when she spied Bryan's sleep-tousled head. When that sight was followed by a naked chest and the top of a tightly honed six pack, she found herself wondering just how far out the window he'd lean.

“Melissa?”

Good grief, even his voice was sexy. She remembered when it cracked and squeaked. “Uh, h-hello, uh—” What should she call him if he was her boss? “—Dr. Booker.”

He blinked at her, braced one hand on the windowsill and lifted the other to rub lazily over his chest. A slow grin tugged at his lips. “There's no need to be formal.”

“Oh, um, okay. I'm sorry I woke you. G-go back to— I'll go.” She dropped her hand and turned. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't she called first?

“Don't move,” he ordered. “I'm coming down.”

“No, you don't—”