Royal Seduction (4 page)

“It was causing some side effects that were…unexpected.” Faye seemed to put extra effort into splitting her muffin in half.

The comment made Catherine curious, but her probing for information on NoWait had already gotten her into trouble once today so she let her questions go unasked. “Well, unexpected side effects can't be good.”

Faye lifted her chin. “That's the consensus of hospital administration, too. But we're thinking of doing some testing. That's what Dr. Jacobs is up there discussing now.” She nibbled the muffin and swallowed. “Now, back to your session with him. Did he answer your questions about a healthy diet? If not, I'm going to give him what for when I get back to the clinic.”

“Oh, please, no.” Catherine set the tea bag on the sau
cer. “Don't say anything to him. As I said, he did go over a little bit with me.”

A very little bit.

She paused long enough to sip from the cup. “But then he got all flustered and started repeating himself.” She tried not to smile. “He seemed to be a little confused with the time of day. He was tense about something, that much was clear.” Absently, she picked up her spoon and swirled it in the hot liquid. “He actually ended up rushing out of the room.”

“Hmmm.” Faye's eyebrows arched. “That sure doesn't sound like him at all.” Something in her gaze twinkled. “But the mere peculiarity of it does sound interesting, though.”

After a moment, Catherine commented, “He doesn't smile much, does he?” Then she lapsed back into memories of her short time with him. Finally, she couldn't hold back her question any longer. “Is he married?”

Faye stirred a splash of cream into her tea. “Dr. Jacobs? No.”

The cup warmed Catherine's fingers as she cradled it between both hands. “He's quite good-looking.”

“Um-hmm,” Faye agreed. She tipped her head a fraction. “You interested?”

“Let's put it this way, I like handsome men just as much as any other woman does.” Catherine straightened the angle of the spoon sitting in her saucer. “I don't mind admitting that there's something about Dr. Jacobs that intrigues me….”

Ever since she'd turned twenty-one, she'd had a slew of men chosen for her—very wealthy, very appropriate, very boring and forgettable men. But there was nothing about Riley Jacobs that was forgettable. In fact, he had
been on her mind all afternoon. What was it about him that attracted her?

Almost as if she'd heard the silent question that whispered through Catherine's head, Faye teasingly suggested, “Could it be the challenge?”

A mysterious and awesome sensation suddenly filled her…a sensation so delicious it had her wanting to curl her toes into the soles of her shoes.

“Could be,” Catherine breathed. “It very well could be.”

C
atherine sat in the exam room tapping her fingers against the side of the paper-covered mattress on which she sat. When she'd asked to make an appointment with Dr. Jacobs, she'd meant she merely wanted to talk to the man. However, the receptionist must have misunderstood and thought she needed medical assistance and had escorted her here.

Oh, well. It didn't matter to Catherine if she talked to Riley in his office or in an examination room. She only wanted to talk to him.

Although the walls were painted a peaceful shade of blue, the newness of everything lent a stark feel. She wondered if all doctors in America tended to their patients in such impersonal surroundings.

A robe had been draped on the mattress for her. But she hadn't touched it. Catherine couldn't imagine taking
off her clothing and wrapping the flimsy fabric around her body.

She felt a sudden appreciation for the royal physician who was on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the von Husden family. Dr. Wallingford rushed to the palace to treat her father or her sisters or herself in the comfort of their own bedchambers whenever the need arose. However, house calls, as Americans would call them, were a thing of the past in this fast-paced, ultramodern society, she was sure.

Sitting on the exam table, Catherine felt her heart flutter. Her bout of nerves was caused by the brazenness of summoning Dr. Riley Jacobs, she knew. There wasn't a darn thing wrong with her. And she wondered how he would react to that. What he would say. How he would be. But the most interesting speculation of all was whether she could make him smile.

That was her sole goal in being here.

Normally, anywhere she went she was treated with the utmost respect. Everyone she met practically fell over themselves to supply her every whim. But Dr. Jacobs didn't know she was Princess Catherine von Husden. He'd had no idea when they'd met the day before yesterday that he'd been in the presence of royalty.

Royalty schmoyalty. What good was a gem-encrusted tiara, she wondered, if it kept you guessing whether people were treating you well simply because you were who you were, or because they truly wanted to be your friend?

She wanted Dr. Jacobs to be her friend. Heck, that wasn't the full truth. She wanted more from him than that. She'd come to Portland seeking a naughty adventure. This vacation she'd planned would be her one and only chance to experience the sparks that flashed between a man and a woman.

All she had to do was figure out how to make his sparks flash. Catherine chuckled at the thought.

However, instinct told her that if she was going to get anywhere with the good doctor, the first thing she had to do was make him smile.

Two short raps on the door had her lifting her gaze. Dr. Jacobs pushed his way into the small exam room, his brow marred with a frown.

“So where are you hurting? You strain a muscle in the gym?”

Nothing like being direct. He was so grumpy, it was kind of cute.

“Hello to you, too,” she said.

Her bright greeting made him pause. He remained silent, just looking at her, and Catherine took full advantage of the quick second to give him a thorough once-over.

His eyes were a rich shade of brown with enticing flecks of amber. His eyelashes were thick. His hair—chestnut-brown with deep red highlights—was short and traditionally styled. She liked his clean-cut look. His smooth skin had an olive tone.

“When you were training to become a doctor,” she quipped, “you must have missed the lesson on bedside manner.”

The bedazzling smile she offered him had won over the Queen of England, herself. Surely it would charm him, too.

His frown faded, but his wide mouth didn't curl up at the ends as she had hoped it would. Well, she'd just have to try harder.

“Just trying to get down to business.” He tossed the file onto the counter and reached for the stethoscope draped around his neck.

“I can't say I know a thing about being a doctor,” she
began, “but I'd think part of the ‘business' of treating people is garnering their trust. Putting them at ease so they'll feel comfortable enough to tell you about their problem.”

His jaw went tight. Apparently he didn't take kindly to her friendly advice.

Feeling suddenly mischievous, she wondered just how far she could goad him until he caught on that he was being goaded.

“What would it hurt for you to have come into the room and greeted me with a happy hello?”

He dipped his chin just a bit. “Lady, I don't give anyone a happy hello.”

That didn't surprise her in the least. “Well, maybe you should. And how about asking about my day? That might be nice.”

The man looked about to implode, and Catherine could barely contain her laughter.

“Do you know,” she continued, “that we met two days ago, sat down together and talked, and you never even introduced yourself. I didn't know your name until I asked Dr. Lassen. You're too tense, Dr. Jacobs. Too focused.” She pinched her chin between her thumb and fingers, narrowing her gaze. “Do you think that's a problem you might need to work on?”

A storm brewed all around him.

“I'll have you know,” he said, “that up until a week and a half ago, I was treating real patients with real problems. I didn't have time for happy hellos.” Annoyance tightened the muscles in his face, making the angles sharper, more defined. “The people I treated were most often unconscious and completely helpless. There wasn't time for polite conversation.”

Wow, she'd whipped him up into a real huff. She ought to be ashamed that she'd enjoyed doing it.

Curiosity had her wondering about the previous job he'd just described, but now wasn't the time to ask. She was too close to her goal of provoking him to his limit. She tilted her head and queried, “So you're saying I'm not real?”

She injected the question with a jesting tone, let the humor she felt twinkle in her eyes.

Finally realizing he was being purposely prodded, he shook his head. Then he looked down at the floor, chuckling.

The sound was rich and heady. Catherine liked it. A lot.

And when he lifted his gaze to hers, he was smiling.

Smiling.

A tingling heat permeated Catherine's entire body.

“No,” he said softly. “I'm not saying that at all. You're perfectly real.”

He draped his stethoscope back around his neck and laced his fingers together at his waist.

“You should smile more often,” she told him.

He nodded. “You're probably right.”

Silence hung between them, heavy and cumbersome. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn that the temperature in the room rose several degrees.

Her grin was smug. “No probably about it. That smile suits you. Loosens up everything. The tenseness in your body—” without thought, her tone lowered an octave “—in our conversation…in the very air.”

She did feel an easing of the strain in him, both physically and emotionally, and in their conversation. But the air remained dense. Deliciously thick. His irritation was no longer the culprit, she realized. What swirled around them now was something shadowy. Something both mysterious and exciting.

Catherine hoped he didn't intend to use that stethoscope to listen to her heart any time soon, because if he did, he couldn't miss the way it fluttered against her ribs.

“Okay, so maybe we need to start over.” He offered her his hand. “Hello. My name is Dr. Riley Jacobs.”

She slid her palm against his and curled her fingers around his hand. His skin was warm, his handshake firm.

“I'm Catherine Houston,” she told him, pleased to play along. “My family calls me Cat. But I prefer Catherine.”

“Catherine it is, then.”

The handshake ended and she felt a twinge of disappointment.

“And how are you today?” He measured each word carefully.

“Much better now.”

Much better! she thought.

“So what brings you in to see me today? Did you strain a muscle? Are you sore from overexertion?”

In a sudden quandary, Catherine remained silent. He was being pleasant now, sure. But as soon as she told him there was nothing wrong with her, he'd probably be peeved that she'd wasted his time.

“Well,” she started out haltingly, “I don't really have a physical injury.”

“Oh?” Uncertainty clouded his eyes, yet at the same time curiosity had his brows arching the tiniest bit.

“I don't know if you're aware,” she said, “but I'm a visitor to Portland. I came here because my cousin visited the city not too long ago and he just raved about the place.”

Her cousin Max had met his wife here in Oregon. And he'd defied convention completely when he'd married Ivy Crosby, too.

“So I thought I'd escape from…everything—” The
words snagged in her throat and she gave a small cough. She needed to be careful or she was going to give away her secret. “I wanted to see what kind of fun I could find in Portland,” she finished.

“And what kind of fun have you found?”

He was giving tolerance and patience a valiant effort, but she could tell this small talk was driving him nuts.

She couldn't help but observe, “You're really a workaholic, aren't you?”

Her question took him aback. There was defensiveness in his tone when he said, “I don't know that I'd say that.”

Catherine ignored him. “You must have a reputation of working hard. How else could you land the top job at a place like this? I mean, look at you. You're champing at the bit to do something—analyze my symptoms, diagnose my problem—so you can move on to the next crisis.”

His rigid shoulders relaxed and he actually laughed.

She'd found him appealing before, but this laid-back manner of his enthralled her.

“Sounds like I'm the one being diagnosed here. But I don't mind reminding you that you're the one who made this appointment. With me. The doctor. The one wearing the white coat and the stethoscope. So if we can just stick to the topic at hand…” He tossed her a pointed look.

Chagrin had her averting her gaze, and she shifted her hips until the edge of exam table pressed against the backs of her knees.

“You were explaining this nonphysical problem of yours,” he prompted.

“I was.” Bolstering herself with a deep breath, she said, “The people I've met here at the clinic's gym are great, but everyone seems so busy with work or their families. No one seems to have time for a new friend. I was able to enjoy
a cup of tea with Dr. Lassen. But I've been eating dinner alone every night. I've been doing a little sight-seeing, but—” she sighed dramatically “—it's just not the same when you're all on your own.”

With each sentence she spoke the crease between his eyebrows cut deeper into his forehead.

“Are you trying to tell me that you're suffering from loneliness?”

“Well, you don't have to say it like that.” She tucked her arms across her chest and informed him, “It's a perfectly legitimate ailment.”

Even though humor continued to sparkle in his chocolate eyes, he did a great job of mustering up some solemnity. “Of course it is.”

She forced her spine to straighten. “So it's official? I've been diagnosed?” Without waiting for him to answer her silly questions, she barreled ahead. “Then what I'd like you to do is write me a prescription. For some company. For some conversation.” She thought a moment and then boldly announced, “I think a sight-seeing tour of Portland would be nice. Coffee and dessert would be great. Oh, and dinner, too. Not necessarily in that order, of course.”

He looked quite stunned. She decided to go in for the kill before he could regain his wits.

“And if you're truly dedicated to your profession,” she said, “you'll volunteer to be my guide for the evening.”

Now he had that deer-caught-in-headlights expression, and it was all Catherine could do not to laugh.

“Y-you want a date?”

She flashed a huge grin at him, purposefully mistaking his question. “I'd love a date, thank you. I accept your invitation, Dr. Jacobs.”

 

Later that same day, Riley sat at his desk and listened as Carrie Martin explained her story.

“I had no idea who that Dr. Richie person was up there in front of that crowd.”

The woman's eyes had taken on a haunted look, and sympathy rose up in Riley. Obviously, Carrie was reliving that awful confrontation she'd initiated during Dr. Richie's last seminar before he'd disappeared. Up until now, he'd only heard rumor and innuendo, and he'd squelched that as quickly as he could, thinking that was best for the clinic and its reputation. But this woman had been deeply affected by the ugly incident that she, herself, had admittedly been the center of.

“I mean, he resembled the man I'd married years ago in Florida,” she continued, “but that Dr. Richie person strutting back and forth and tossing out all that overly dramatized gibberish was just too…” Her sentence trailed off and she shook her head.

Riley had never personally met Richard Strong, but having inherited the job of cleaning up the man's mess here at the clinic—and the potential problems that could ensue—Riley had certainly learned a great deal of secondhand information about the man. Some people loved him, saw him as charismatic. He apparently had a way of garnering people's trust. And Riley had heard it said that the man could sell ice cubes in Antarctica. And the suits in Administration had loved that “salesman” aspect of Dr. Richie's personality. Plus, when he'd accepted the job of running the clinic, the famous guru of the Northwest had brought quite a fan following along with him.

But there were plenty of people who had their doubts about the man and his tactics.

“I just can't believe what he's done,” Carrie continued, amazement filling her tone to the brim. “What kind of person is he that he felt he needed to change his name?”