Working on a Full House (25 page)

Nevertheless, he wanted her very badly.

"You made good time." She turned this into an accusation.

Roy lifted a shoulder, privately thrilled she was in a bad mood. That meant her decision, the no-sex one, wasn't sitting so well.

It was all he could do not to laugh.

Valerie stalked to the mailbox out by the street, then stalked back to open the front door. Gripping his overnight case, Roy meekly followed.

"I suppose you want to make dinner." It was another accusation while she flipped through the stack of mail in her hands.

"Only if you want me to."

Her gaze came up, suspicious.

Roy gave himself the blandest poker face he could.

The narrowed look on Valerie's face softened. "Actually, I have some articles I need to read. It would help if you made dinner."

Doing his best not to show triumph, Roy inclined his head. "Sure thing."

She glanced at him once more, then left in the direction of the combination family room/study.

In
, Roy thought, and allowed himself a grin.
I am in, once again
.

His good humor lasted all the way through the preparations and eating of dinner. Valerie was clearly doing her best to act friendly. He supposed she wanted things to go back to the way they'd been before last Wednesday, when he'd kissed her.

What she didn't realize was that even then they'd been moving toward consummation. And if he just held steady, they'd still arrive, most naturally — and very soon — at that point.

The idea gave Roy the leisure to sit back and simply enjoy being with her.

After dinner, Roy let her do the dishes, since she insisted, and since it was such a pleasure to watch her do it.

Inwardly, he lusted. Aloud, he asked, "Have you heard any more news on your patient, Nicky?"

Facing the sink, Valerie shook her head. "They're supposed to do the bone marrow aspiration later this week. We'll know exactly what we're dealing with then."

"So if it's leukemia or — what was the other disease?"

"Aplastic anemia." Valerie closed the dishwasher and turned to face him. She looked much more comfortable now that they were discussing her job. "In which case we'll need to find a bone marrow donor. Hopefully, one of his siblings will be a match." She gave a huffing laugh. "At least his mom did that much right. Nicky's got three siblings, which would give him a decent chance for a match, but..." Valerie shook her head. "Much good it'll do him, with the transplant costing upwards of half a million dollars and no insurance to pick up the tab."

"Mm." Roy watched Valerie closely, but saw no indication she knew he was worth that much — and quite a bit more.

And Roy already knew she did not have a poker face.

"So." Valerie wiped her hands on a dish towel, and looked determined to forget about Nicky. "I'm going back to the family room."

"Ah. Then will it bother you if I watch TV?" The TV was in the same room as Valerie's desk.

"No." Valerie wrinkled her nose. "I doubt I'm going to absorb much more today, anyway."

The family room was set up with the same instinctive flair for coziness as the rest of the house, with an overstuffed sofa, lots of throw pillows, and even a big, crocheted afghan to wrap oneself up in on a cold winter night. She'd steeped the place in physical and emotional comfort.

Okay
, Roy told himself, breathing deeply.
This is why you're going to play it cool here, follow her rules. Because in the end you can have...all this
.

With incredible self-restraint, he seated himself far away from Valerie, on the sofa.

But it wasn't such a hardship, really. They were still together. She leaned back in her desk chair with a slick medical journal in her hands, glancing over at the TV screen every once in a while. He liked watching her read, the calm concentration that settled over her face. He liked watching the animation that would then transform her features when she'd look up and respond to something the CNN newscaster said.

He enjoyed watching the way one of her knees lifted and her foot perched on the seat of her chair beside her rump.

As he watched, she looked over at the TV screen and her face lit into a bright, amused smile. "Did you hear that?" she asked him. Forgotten, apparently, was his big, bad wolf-ness. "They are changing the name of that country, yet again."

Roy met her eyes and something suddenly shifted inside him. "Uh, no. It is rather hard to believe isn't it?" he managed to respond, but everything was different. The whole scene had changed. His simple pleasure at being in the room with her transformed into an odd urgency. Out of nowhere came a question he never thought he'd ask himself.

Did she love him?

What
? Roy started, alarmed. He didn't care if she loved him. That wasn't what he was about. Love meant...dependence, risk, pain. It meant getting left behind. But the strange emotion was curling in ever tighter circles inside him.

Was he kidding himself?
Did
he care?

Mentally, Roy shook his head. He didn't care. He
never
cared.

Except, of course, for that strange night two months ago.

Roy drew in a deep, silent breath and turned his eyes toward the TV screen. His heart was suddenly beating very fast. Frantically, he tried to reason with himself. That night notwithstanding, this relationship was no different from any of his other relationships. He kept a clear head. He stayed on an even keel.

Valerie was right about one thing. They
were
going to have to deal with each other for the rest of their lives. They couldn't mess things up with a bunch of chaotic, unwanted emotions.

Roy's lungs worked hard as he stared at the TV screen. God, maybe Valerie was right about not sleeping together! Maybe — maybe that
would
be going too far. He was bristlingly aware of her curled up over there in her prim and proper desk chair.

Maybe he was too aware. Too desirous...

Even needy.

Very quietly, Roy gritted his teeth. Need was bad. He couldn't. Wouldn't. Need.

His stomach sank as he sat there.

Maybe Valerie was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Cherise was going to put a stop to this, once and for all. On Friday at six-fifteen, she took off her lab coat, put on her knee-length sweater, and set out toward Norman's Art Supply, determined to tell Kenny forget it. They weren't having a date, or anything else. He should turn around and go home.

A block away from the store, Cherise stopped and muttered, "What in the world...?" Parked directly in front of Norman's Art Supply was a spanking new, bright red Ferrari. On the street of Jeeps and 4-Runners, it looked like a peacock amid a flock of chickens. Leaning against the low-slung vehicle stood Kenny.

Cherise felt a laugh bubble in her throat. Immediately, she quelled the traitorous response. Kenny's new Ferrari was no laughing matter. It was a big red mistake, something he'd probably have to sell off next month in order to make his mortgage payment.

Oh, God, where was her self-respect, her self-control, her intelligence? She shouldn't laugh at the sight of this man, no matter what he was driving. She wasn't like Valerie who, Cherise was pretty sure, had hosted Mr. Yummy at her house again.

Sobering her expression, Cherise continued up the sidewalk, clipping briskly in her two-inch heels.

Kenny's face broke into a grin wide enough to rival the Grand Canyon. He straightened off the car and hurried forward, arms outstretched. "Cherise."

She tried to ward him off, but somehow she ended up in his arms anyway.

"Cherise," he said again, deeper, and drew her against him. His body measured the way a man's should: his chin at her nose, his hips at her waist. She must have lifted her face because his mouth came down on hers.

Briefly, oh, only briefly, Cherise lost sight of her goal. For a split-second, she felt the fizz and the buzz, the strange electrical excitement of being with him.

Then she remembered. This was exactly why she had to get rid of this man. He messed with her brain.

Before Cherise could push him away, Kenny released her. He looked down at her with relentless good cheer. "Gee, it's good to see you."

"Yes, well." Cherise straightened her collar. "I'm not staying long."

"Oh?" He didn't have the grace to look worried. "What's the problem?"

"Yes, there is a problem." Cherise drew herself up. "I should have told you about it, the last time we were together." If not before. How could she have forgotten her heaviest ammunition? Now she told Kenny, "I'm engaged."

Not a flicker of reaction showed on his face. He just kept looking at her.

"Did you hear me?"

He blinked a few times. "You're engaged."

"That's right." Cherise found herself chattering. "To a man in Kentucky. He works in the same hospital with my father. He's black, and a doctor."
In other words, tons more suitable than you
. Even if he was completely imaginary.

"You're engaged," Kenny said again. He took a step back, gesturing. "And yet...you're here."

It was Cherise's turn to blink. "Uh, only to tell you that. And goodbye. I thought — You coming all those miles out here... I thought I owed you an explanation."

"Did you, now?" Kenny's smile was returning, slow but steady. "I think what you wanted...was for me to see through you."

"Excuse me?"

Kenny was grinning widely now. "Rather convenient, isn't it, this engagement of yours?"

"
Excuse
me?"

"And sudden," Kenny added.

Cherise widened her eyes. "Not at all sudden. We've been engaged for — for nearly two years."

"Two years!" Instead of shrinking in chagrin, Kenny guffawed. People walking by them on the sidewalk turned to look. Kenny stepped closer to Cherise. "Tell me, doll. Exactly what kind of a phony engagement is this?"

Cherise's jaw dropped. Phony. He was calling her two-year story about the imaginary Dr. Buford phony, something no other man had dared to do.

"It's not phony," she protested, albeit weakly.
How had he known
?

Laughing, Kenny stepped over to open the passenger door of the car. "You're gonna love this ride, Cherise. Italian leather seats, eight-speaker sound system. The only thing this car needs is for you to tell it where to go."

Cherise stared at him and the open door of the bright red car beneath his arm. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"I heard. A very cute story about a two-year engagement with some black doctor in Kentucky." Kenny seemed extremely amused.

Cherise felt herself getting extremely annoyed, and panicked. He wasn't buying it. He thought she was available to a very wrong man like himself. "Okay. Forget the engagement. I'm not going out with you because you're a train wreck. How long are you going to own that swank car? Until next week? Do you have insurance for that thing — or even a driver's license?
Listen
to me."

As he stood with one hand on the open car door, Kenny's thousand watt smile dimmed. With a flick of his arm, he sent the door closed. "I've been listening to you," he told her softly. "But have
you
been listening to
me
?"

"Wh — what do you mean?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. It was like turning on a switch. Cherise could feel the buzz again, the fizz.

"You hear that?" he asked very softly. He bent toward her ear. She could feel his breath, soft and warm. He whispered, "You hear it?"

She heard it. How could she avoid hearing it: the call and the promise? Every nerve ending she owned was vibrating. Yet somehow she managed to mutter, "I'm not getting involved with you."

Kenny laughed then. He
laughed
, a deep rumble against Cherise's neck. "Too late."

No! Cherise wouldn't admit it. She was her own woman — smart, not stupid.

Kenny set her away to look into her eyes. "This isn't a jail sentence. It's supposed to be fun."

"Fun?"

"Isn't that what I've been saying from the beginning?"

He had. She had to admit he had. Cherise narrowed her eyes. "So this is just about fun. Nothing more serious?" Or threatening?

Kenny let go of her shoulders with a laugh. "Has to be, doesn't it? Seeing as how you're engaged and I'm a train wreck?" He winked.

Cherise continued to regard him through narrowed eyes.

"Aw, just relax." Kenny waved a hand. "Enjoy the moment. Maybe that's why I came along, huh, to show you how to do that?"

Had he? Cherise recalled the deep envy she'd felt the last time they'd been together, the wonder at how he could live without a drop of worry.
Should
she be learning how to do that?

Kenny stood there, smiling at her. He looked very like the devil Cherise had imagined in her head as a little girl while listening to the pastor in church. Charming, handsome — and tempting one down the path to disaster.

"Shall we get in the car?" he asked.

Cherise could feel her heart beating very rapidly. Oh, sure, it would be nice — maybe even healthy — to have a little fun. But more was involved than he was admitting. When she was with him, she got vulnerable. Even now, she could feel herself softening...

Dammit. He always turned her best intentions around. What she needed was to demonstrate to him, and to herself, how fundamentally incompatible they were. She needed to make him go away, and make herself happy with his exit.

She needed a plan.

He rushed to open the car door as Cherise strode purposefully forward. "Where are we going?" He looked, momentarily, worried.

Good
, Cherise thought. She wondered what could worry him even more. Probably a woman who was going to demand he actually deserve her. That ought to worry him right out the door. "We're going to an art show," she decided.

"Really?" His worry transformed into a wide grin. No, the man didn't have the decency to look dismayed at being dragged to an art show. "Fantastic!" he exclaimed.

But Cherise curled into the car anyway. She was very certain Kenny was not an art show kind of guy. She was going to end this thing, once and for all. "Whenever you're ready," she told him. "I'll give you directions."