Practice Makes Perfect (7 page)

The dog settled his chin on Ian’s bare leg. He’d taken Scalpel for a run and hadn’t changed out of his gym shorts. Maybe he needed a beer. Standing, he walked into the kitchen through triple sliding glass doors; Scalpel’s claws clicked on the terra-cotta tile behind him. Ian glanced at the clock. Hmm. Time for dinner. The refrigerator offered nothing interesting. He opened the freezer. “How about steaks?”

Scalpel barked enthusiastically, recognizing the word. Ian reached for a frozen sirloin. There were two stuck together. “Is this a sign to ask somebody over, buddy? Some pretty woman to take my mind off whatever’s bothering me?” He smiled down at the dog.

Scalpel barked in response. Ian took out the two steaks and thought about whom to call. Missy Columbo with the great golf swing and even greater... Nah. She was a little too interested, too soon. Marla Simmons? He owed her big time for giving him the skinny on Rob Roberts, which had been enough to get Paige to work at the Center.

Paige. Did she like steak? Did she like him?

Is there a woman who doesn’t?
his mother once asked. “Your grandma liked Paige, didn’t she, boy? She’d want me to be friends with her.”

Where
was
Paige tonight?

It was unlike Ian to be so preoccupied with a woman, but the fact was, he’d been thinking about Paige Kendrick a lot. Maybe because of his mother’s relationship with her. Maybe that was why he wanted to be with her. “What the hell,” he said to the dog. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Forgoing the phone—he’d need his in-person charm to convince her to have dinner with him—he grabbed the steaks, stopped off in the dining area to snare a bottle of merlot from the wine rack and picked up the dog’s leash. “Come on, Scalpel, what do we have to lose?”

With the top down and the Beach Boys blaring at high volume, he drove into the city and took the turn to Spencer Hill. Paige lived in an expensive section of Hyde Point. It was nice up here. Tree-lined, quiet, except for the occasional rumble of a lawn mower. The sweet scent of flowers surrounded him. He preferred the ambience of the river, but this was picturesque.

He reached her house in less than fifteen minutes; he was relieved when he saw her BMW in the driveway. Holding the leash and wine in one hand, and the sack of steaks in the other, he leaped out over the side of the car. With Scalpel at his heels, he went up the curved stone steps up the front incline of her cedar-sided contemporary.

Man, what did one person do rambling around in that house by herself?

Maybe she wasn’t by herself much.

He didn’t like the notion. “Ring the bell, buddy.”

Scalpel jumped up to rest his front paws on the wall beside the door and pressed his nose on the bell. No answer. They repeated the procedure a few times, and Ian felt a sinking sensation in his chest, which surprised him.

Then he remembered something.
We’re going swimming at Dr. Kendrick’s
, the little girl had said the other night. Paige had a pool. Maybe she was in it now. He frowned. She shouldn’t be swimming alone. Then a thought struck him. Maybe she wasn’t alone.

Well, there was no other car in sight, so he headed toward the back, passing bushes of hydrangeas and a few lilacs. When he reached the rear of the house, he could hear someone in the water. Peering over the top of the wooden fence, he saw her—as sleek as a mermaid—swimming laps. Goggles on, her face was submerged, except when she turned it to the side to take a breath.

Slowly he eased open the gate and moved into the pool area. “Shh,” he whispered to Scalpel. “Don’t bark.” Ian crossed the slate patio and stopped beside a table with a forest-green umbrella over it and four chairs, the cushions in a geometric print.

He scanned the yard. The slate area was huge and circled the pool. There was a sizable patch of grass inside here, too. Several lounge chairs were scattered around. Two more umbrella tables. Potted plants. The whole place could have been a scene from
Outdoor Decorating
, a magazine his mother used to read. Had Paige shared that interest with her mentor? Again Ian wondered if he was here because of his mother, because of Paige’s connection to her.

Scalpel jerked on his leash. Dropping his stuff on the table, Ian unfettered the dog and stretched out on a chaise. It felt good to be off his feet. He’d looked forward to the opening of the Center today, but emotionally it had drained him. He watched Paige cut through the water. She had a disciplined, even stroke. No surprise there. Everything about the woman seemed disciplined. He smiled. And began to count. Hell, didn’t she ever get winded? He was up to twenty-five laps. God knew how many she’d done before he got here. The rhythmic motions lulled him. Content, with the dog at his side, he relaxed and let his eyes close.

o0o

PAIGE’S ARMS ACHED and her lungs burned, telling her it was time to stop swimming. She did a few more easy laps, then flipped over on her back. Eyes still closed, she floated until her breathing slowed. In the shallow end, she stood up, grasped the side of the pool, pulled off her goggles, opened her eyes—and came nose to nose with the black face of a monstrous beast. She screamed and fell back into the water; the thing began to bark bloody murder.

Out of nowhere a man materialized, grabbing the animal by the collar. “Quiet, Scalpel.”

The brute quieted immediately, but Paige’s heart stampeded in her chest. It was a few moments before she could speak. “What the hell is that dog doing here?” She looked up at Ian. “And you?”

He bestowed a meant-to-melt grin on her. She scowled.

“No big deal. Scalpel and I just stopped by to see you.” His gaze landed on the water. “We caught you playing the Little Mermaid. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I sat down.” He shrugged. “I fell asleep.”

Doctors got tired enough to doze off anywhere, but Paige wasn’t feeling any too friendly toward the guy. “Do you always make yourself at home in a stranger’s house?”

“We’re not strangers, Paige.” At her stern look be said, “I’m not Goldilocks, though you’re sure acting like one of the three bears.”

He had nerve. After all, he’d barged into
her
backyard. “Why are you here?”

“I came to see if you wanted company.”

“Why would I want company?”

“You seemed disconcerted today.” She didn’t like the fact that he’d noticed. “And I’m at loose ends. I thought we might spend some time together.”

“Don’t you believe in phones?”

“You wouldn’t have heard it.”

“You didn’t know I was swimming.” Tired of craning her neck up at him, she climbed the three steps out of the pool and crossed to the towel bin near the built-in bench. Though his dog had scared her half to death, she was actually glad to see Ian, and she didn’t like that feeling at all. She dried her face, wrapped the towel around her one-piece black Speedo and turned. “Ian, don’t you think this is a bit intrusive?”

“Are you busy?”

“A person doesn’t have to be busy to be intruded upon.”

He scanned the area and took a quick glance at the house. “Anybody here?”

“No.”

“’Cept me and my dog, ma’am.” Again the grin. It was almost impossible to resist.

Her gaze dropped to the big black Labrador retriever. The dog’s mouth was open, and she could swear he was grinning, too. “He scared me.”

“He doesn’t like it when pretty ladies scream at him.”

She ignored the compliment. “I wouldn’t have screamed if I hadn’t come face-to-face with the Creature from the Black Lagoon as soon as I came out of the water.” She scowled at the dog.

Ian frowned, and Scalpel hung his head and made a mewing sound. “It’s okay, buddy, she didn’t mean that.”

The dog’s mouth practically scraped the deck.

Paige bit back a laugh.

“Now, you’re just gonna have to let us cook up the meat we brought on that fancy barbecue over there to soothe Scalpel’s hurt feelings.”

Paige studied the animal. “He’s beautiful.” She caught herself. “But he seems as pushy as his master.”

“He is. You might as well give in gracefully and let us stay for dinner.”

For some reason she liked the idea. “I was going to make a salad.”

“Good. It’ll go great with dinner. Make a lot.”

“He doesn’t eat greens, does he?”

“No rabbit food for my best buddy here. Just steak.”

Scalpel perked up and barked.

Paige rolled her eyes. “All right. You can stay.” She glanced at the table. “Wine, too?”

“Uh-huh. You like merlot?”

She did. “It’s fine.” She turned to the house. “I’ll bring you a corkscrew.”

Paige entered through the downstairs bath/changing area and threw on a terry-cloth cover-up and sandals. She refused to change her clothes because Ian Chandler had suddenly dropped by acting like God’s gift to women. But she did take a peek in the mirror. Her hair was tangled and hung around her face. Shrugging, she picked up a comb and did some quick damage control. Then she snuck a lipstick out of the makeup bag. Chiding herself for fussing as she dabbed it on, she finished quickly and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. She’d just retrieved wineglasses, cutlery and plates when she glanced out the window.

Ian’s back was to her. He was standing and staring at the water, his arms folded over his chest, his hands tucked in his armpits. Though he flirted and was outrageously presumptuous, she sensed strain in his wide shoulders and a coiled tension in his stance.

Today must have been hard for him Elsa Moore had meant a lot to him, even though she wasn’t his biological mother. That thought sent some tension through Paige’s own body, but she dismissed it. Was Ian feeling bad? Was that why he’d sought her out?

Quickly filling a tray with glasses, place mats and settings for dinner, she decided to make the salad later and hurried out to the patio. “Ian?”

He turned. His face was taut and his mouth tight.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Just dandy.”

She studied him for a moment, then went to the table, set the tray down and picked up the bottle of merlot.

He crossed to her immediately and took it out of her grasp. “I’ll do it.”

She shook her head, but didn’t tease him about his autocracy. Instead, she sat on a chair. The dog came up and perched right by her legs, staring up at her in apparent adoration. When Ian opened and poured the wine, he stood above her and clinked their glasses. “To a good start,” he said, smiling and looking more his usual self.

“To the Center.”

His eyes sparkled. “Mmm.” He sank onto a chair. The dog sidled over and dropped at his feet. As Ian sipped his wine, his eyes drifted to the water again. He said with the seriousness of a funeral director, “You shouldn’t swim alone, Paige.”

She started to bristle. “I...” Then she remembered his parents’ boating accident. “You’re right. It’s just that I’d never get to use the pool if I had to wait for company.”

They drank in silence, though she noticed Ian only sipped a little, probably because he was driving.

“Today was hard for you, wasn’t it,” she finally said.

Drawing in a deep breath, his eyes got bleaker than an overcast sky. “I didn’t expect it.”

“They’ve only been gone a year. What
did
you expect?”

“For it to hurt less by now.”

“There’s no time limit on grief. Go easy on yourself.” She smiled. “Elsa would have loved the Center.”

He grinned. “More than you would have guessed.” His eyes focused on her. “That I was adopted came as a surprise to you?”

“Yes.”

“You never knew?”

“No, of course not. Elsa and I didn’t share many personal things. Sometimes, when I was worried about Jade, I couldn’t help confiding in her. Asking for her advice. But I never wanted to be a burden.”

“Helping your friends isn’t a burden.” She said nothing more. “Who’s Jade?”

“My sister.”

His eyebrows arched. “I didn’t know you had one.”

“She lives in New York City.”

“Why did you need to talk to Mom about her?”

“I raised her till she was eighteen.”

“What about your parents?”

The coldness seeped in.
There’s no time limit on grief
. “They’re dead. They died when I was seventeen and Jade was fourteen.”

“I’m sorry.” He waited. “It must be hard having your sister live so far away. I wouldn’t like it if my brother wasn’t nearby.”

Trying to conceal her interest, she asked, “Is he...”

“Adopted? Yes. Derek wasn’t Lynne’s child, though. Mom and Dad got him through another one of Dad’s patients.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lynne and Derek’s mother were my father’s patients.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not that unusual. Doctors sometimes arrange private adoptions.”

“Is that why the process was open?”

“No. My dad was a big believer in openness and honesty about everything. He thought this way would be best for everybody.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. My life has been far richer with Lynne Chandler in it.” He gazed at the water again. “Especially now.”

“It’s a little unusual to keep the birth mother’s name, isn’t it?”

“I guess. Mom and Dad said they had so much of me, they could give her that one little piece.”

“That’s nice, Ian. I’m glad it worked out for you.”

“But you don’t agree with open adoption, do you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Your reaction when I introduced Lynne. And now you seem tense.”

Paige did not want to discuss this. “I think young mothers have to decide for themselves what’s best. What works for one girl, or family, isn’t necessarily the best thing for everyone.”

“No, of course not.”

His perusal of her made her uncomfortable. Or maybe it was just the topic.

“In any case, it worked for me,” he told her.

“And Elsa, she was all right with it?”

“She was a gem.” He cleared his throat. “In more ways than one.”

Again, images of her mentor surfaced: Elsa demonstrating how to give shots with a minimum of trauma; Elsa staying all night by a little boy’s bedside, teaching dedication by example. She was a gem professionally, and from what Ian said, in her personal life, too.

Paige’s stomach growled, and she was thankful for the distraction. “I’m hungry. Shall we put the steaks on?”