Hotblooded (12 page)

He tipped his head to look at her and Brooke stubbornly refused to look back. “Sweet blessings?” he asked.

She ignored him. “Thanks, Thelma. I appreciate it,” Brooke said.

Thelma squeezed her arm and smiled.

“Thelma, I have to know, what are Sweet Blessings?” Jack asked.

The older woman turned her attention to him. “I made that up.” She grinned, with an actual twinkle in her eye. “They’re cookies, but like a lot of things in life, there’s more to them when you look harder.”

Brooke risked a glance at Jack, but he wasn’t looking at her. His full attention was on Thelma, and he looked intrigued.

“Give me an example,” he said, gesturing at the plate in Brooke’s hands.

Thelma seemed giddy and Brooke couldn’t help but smile fondly at the older woman. But she braced herself for Thelma’s explanation. Brooke liked Thelma’s cookies and she loved the reason behind them. But it was obvious that this wasn’t the first plate of cookies Thelma had brought to her. What if Jack didn’t get it? What if he thought it was silly?

“These are chocolate cookies,” Thelma started. “They’re made with semisweet chocolate, because none of us are purely sweet all the time.”

She winked and Brooke felt Jack smile. She wasn’t sure how she managed that without looking at him, but she knew he was smiling.

Thelma took a cookie from the plate and held it up. “And see, these are crispy on the outside, but,” she broke it open and showed them the gooey chocolate middle, “they’re soft and mushy inside.”

Brooke bit the inside of her cheek. Whether she was going to laugh or object she wasn’t sure. This wasn’t even slightly subtle. She wasn’t sure how Thelma knew that there was tension between her and Jack. She also wasn’t sure why Thelma wanted Jack to know Brooke had a soft side. Jack was her co-worker. Sort of. But co-workers didn’t need to know each other inside and outside. The outside was enough. More than enough. Just like everyone else in Honey Creek, Jack only needed to see the “crispy” outside. The crusty outside kept the mushy stuff inside. Where it belonged.

He chuckled and took the cookie. “I’m partial to soft and mushy insides.”

Brooke couldn’t help looking at him then. Good grief, how could he make that sound so nice and…sexy.

He bit into the cookie. “There’s mint in there too,” he said with some surprise.

Thelma nodded. “There’s more to it than what you assume.”

Okay, enough already. Brooke took the plate of cookies and set them on the counter. “Tell you what.” She took Thelma’s elbow and turned her toward the door. “I’ll come over the next time you bake. We’ll have tea. And then I won’t have to share the cookies with Jack.” She glanced at the man who had already taken three.

Thelma frowned slightly. “You haven’t been to my house in such a long time.”

“I haven’t had a reason,” Brooke said, referring to the fact that Thelma always brought the cookies right to her at the clinic. “Now I will.”

It took Brooke several seconds—several seconds too long—to realize how her words sounded to Thelma.

“Well, if you get a chance then,” Thelma said, pulling open the front door.

“Thelma, I just meant…” Brooke said, scrambling to think of a way to explain what she’d meant. But the bell tinkled over the door, signaling Thelma’s departure.

Brooke rubbed at the throbbing in her left temple. She was going to have to make it up to Thelma somehow. She turned and almost bumped directly into Jack as she moved toward her office, lost in thought. She looked up, startled that he was standing there so close.

“You do realize that she brought you
cookies
, right?” Jack asked, holding one up.

She took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“And that’s a
nice
thing to do?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes.”

“Just making sure,” he said with a shrug. “Hard to tell when you treat everyone as if they’re out to get you.”

Brooke wasn’t sure how long the silence hung over them. She was stunned by Jack’s words. How dare he say something like that to her? He didn’t know what he was talking about. And who cared what he thought anyway?

The problem was, Brooke cared. She didn’t want anyone thinking that she was cruel and she especially didn’t like the idea that Jack thought less of her. She was professional, honest, responsible, capable…any number of adjectives that she was proud of and strove for each time with each patient. Cruel was one word she never wanted to hear linked with her name.

“Brooke, you okay?” Amy asked from her desk only a few feet away.

Brooke glanced at her. “Fine.”

“You need another pencil?”

She looked down at the pencil in her hand. There was actually half of a pencil in each hand. She had snapped it right in two. She tossed the halves into the wastebasket near her foot. “No. I’ll get a pen.” She turned away, ignoring Jack, unable to think of an appropriate reply to his impertinent statement.

“Amy, did Dr. Martin call yet?” Jack asked.

Brooke was relieved he was letting it go.

He still leaned against the counter and Brooke tried to block him out of her mind but it was nearly impossible. He filled a room and drew attention like no one she had ever known.

It’s because he seems so comfortable. He seems to actually like it here.

Brooke shook the thought off as if it was a pesky bug buzzing in her ear. Who cared if he liked it here? He could have it—the clinic, the town, the whole shebang.

She yanked the drawer open and began digging for a pen. She threw objects out of the way of her searching fingers without even registering what they were. Jack would never have said something so uncaring to Thelma. He wouldn’t have forgotten to visit either. Brooke jerked a pad of paper out of the way. Where were all the blasted pens?

Amy moved away from her desk toward the counter where Jack reclined, laid-back as ever. Brooke tried to ignore them.

“Not yet. Do you want me to interrupt you when he does?” Amy asked cheerily.

“That would be great, I really need to talk to him. You’re the best,” he said.

Brooke looked up in time to see Amy beam at him and the quick wink she received in return. Brooke kept her groan silent. Did every female in Honey Creek have to think he was the best thing since cheesecake? Surely one person with ovaries—past or present—could find him less than amazing. She slammed the drawer shut hard enough to attract Amy’s and Jack’s attention.

She smiled sweetly and made her tone of voice mild. “I can’t seem to find a pen.”

Jack gave her a funny look as he withdrew a pen from his back pocket and held it out to her. He said nothing.

“Thanks,” she muttered. To the rescue, as usual.

“Oh, by the way, Mrs. Gerpkin brought this over for you,” Amy said.

Brooke turned back and watched as Amy retrieved a small package wrapped in bright red shiny paper from her desk. Brooke knew that Mildred Gerpkin’s arthritic hands would surely have bothered her while wrapping the package, but it seemed that no sacrifice was too large for Jack.

“No kidding.” He accepted the parcel with a smile. “What for?”

“There’s a card.” Amy stood resolutely by his side as he tore the card from the piece of tape securing it to the box.

Just then the phone began ringing. Brooke continued to observe Jack under the pretense of reviewing the four-month-old inventory checklist she had dug from one of the drawers in her search for a writing utensil. The phone rang again. Then again. Brooke turned to stare at Amy, waiting for the girl to move even an inch in the direction of the phone. It rang again. Finally, Brooke realized that Amy didn’t even hear it.

She rolled her eyes as Amy exclaimed over the handkerchief Mildred had embroidered with Jack’s initials.

She stomped to the phone and grabbed the receiver. “Honey Creek Family Practice.”

Jack and Amy did turn their attention to her then and, to avoid yelling at them, Brooke angled her head slightly to study the hanging plant in the corner of the waiting room.

“May I put you on hold for a moment?” she asked the caller. Upon hearing an affirmative answer, she punched the red hold button on the phone and held the receiver toward Amy. “Mr. Delphini needs to schedule an appointment.” Mr. Delphini who hadn’t been into the clinic for seven months. Coincidentally.

“Oh, sure.” Amy moved instantly toward the phone, sliding carefully around Brooke as if fearful of getting too close. The girl immediately removed the caller from hold and proceeded to greet him graciously under Brooke’s watchful eye.

“Want a cookie?” Jack asked her, pulling her attention away from the flustered girl. He held the plate of cookies from Thelma toward her while he popped one into his mouth.

Brooke frowned. “Not really.” She began walking toward her office.

“Too bad,” he said around chocolate mint cookie. “Might sweeten up that attitude a bit.”

Brooke froze. She tried to convince herself to just go to her office and forget about the whole thing. For some reason, he was baiting her, but she had more self-control than that. Jack Silver’s opinion did not matter to her—as much as that might surprise him.

In the end, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just ignore the second blatant dig in one morning. She swung around and glared at him. “Do you have something you would like to say to me?”

He straightened and regarded her intently. Finally he said, “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Then just say it.”

“I’m not really sure I should. It might upset you.” He settled one hip against the counter and crossed his arms.

She crossed her arms as well. She wondered how she could feel defensive with the gesture while he just looked casual. But then, Jack always looked casual. It was one of the things she was beginning to dislike most about him. “I’ve been upset since you got here.”

He looked at her for a long time before saying, “I see. All right. What I was going to say is that it’s no wonder people are driving to Amarillo.”

She stared at him. He really thought she cared? He really thought she wanted to try to change that?

Well, screw him.

Especially since there was a niggling little voice in the back of her mind saying he was right.

He couldn’t be right. She didn’t want to want this clinic. She didn’t want to want anything to do with this town.

And until Jack Silver showed up, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she might.

She pulled her arms tighter against her stomach, pressed her lips together and took a deep breath.

“Dr. Silver, I think we should talk in my office.” The words were a little gruff but she managed.

He glanced over to where Amy sat, pretending to be absorbed in a magazine.

“We have patients coming in,” he said.

“You started this.”

His eyes roamed over her face and then, at last, he seemed to make a decision. He gestured toward the hallway. “By all means. After you.”

Brooke hardly waited for Jack to close the door behind him. “What you don’t seem to understand is that I don’t care if people are driving to Amarillo.”

He didn’t reply as he locked the door, then turned slowly to face her.

She frowned. “You’re locking the door?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He moved farther into the room and she crossed to her desk and stepped behind the chair, putting it and the desk between them.

Well, good, she should be nervous. This hot-and-cold, Jekyll-and-Hyde thing was ridiculous and he was going to end it. This clinic could be booming if she’d let a little of herself show. If she’d smile, laugh, let her hair down, people would see that she was sincere and sweet and smart. That’s all most people needed in their doctor.

He came to stand right in front of the desk. “Because we’re going to have a talk that I want to keep between the two of us.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone else in town thinks I’m nice, but I’m not sure you will when we’re done here.”

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I already don’t think you’re nice. No worries about ruining that impression now.”

He didn’t believe that for a second. “So are you a good friend of Tom Dawson’s at the sporting goods store?”

She frowned. “Not really.”

He wondered if she had any friends besides Carla but that was probably a conversation for another time. “I just thought maybe you had a deal with him since he’s doing such a good business selling long underwear and thermal socks to your patients.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Because I’m so cold. Ha, ha. Very clever.”

In spite of the eye roll, he saw some pink in her cheeks and he hoped that her temper was heating. He was sure that she could prove how wrong he was about her frostiness with a few scorching words. He wanted to lay it all on the line. Here and now. It was no longer about defending Thelma or reprimanding Brooke about her attitude in the clinic. Now he wanted her mad.

He wanted to see some emotion in place of the distant, superior façade she kept so firmly in place while in the clinic. He wanted true emotion, open expressions, without hesitation or restraint. He wanted the woman who yelled at him, then kissed him like an erotic dream.

Jack jumped in before she could speak, intent on getting some type of emotional reaction from her—anger, tears, hysterical laughter—whatever she would give him.

“You never smile here at work, you act defensive all the time and you look at everyone like you’ve never even heard the word trust. Everything is sterile with you and I don’t just mean the bandages. Your expressions, your tone of voice, your manner is all so reserved. It’s like you don’t have any feelings.”

He thought that maybe her lip trembled but she got it under control instantly if it had. She gripped the back of the chair and shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand. Not everyone has it as easy as you do. I guess I’m just not as charming as you are.”

“It has nothing to do with charm. It’s about treating your patients like people. It’s about realizing that there is more going on inside of them than whatever illness or injury brought them into the clinic. I know that you understand this stuff. You were all about taking care of people at the Girls Home. What’s going on here?”