Prescription: Marry Her Immediately (8 page)

On the radio, the forecaster called for more rain. Oh, well, it suited her mood.

The Barr mansion was located directly behind Doctors Circle, which had originally been built on part of the Barr estate. The house, secluded behind graceful landscaping, lay across St. Michel Way from the Birthing Center.

The mansion presented an image of classical grandeur, with its front portico, elegant lines and modern expanses of glass. Steering along the curved drive, Amy enjoyed the view past the swimming pool and across the bluffs. Below stretched Paris Avenue and, beyond it, Pacific Coast Highway and the harbor.

She shivered, remembering again that plunge across the quay and the helpless sensation as the railing broke beneath her. But Quent had been there. It had felt wonderful, being pulled into the warmth of his arms.

Why had he withdrawn
so abruptly? Even now, after a night spent consciously and subconsciously reviewing everything that had happened, Amy didn’t understand.

When it came to her own predicament, her counseling training was useless. She hoped Natalie could provide some insight.

Her friend opened the door as Amy mounted the steps. Pregnancy and happiness made her bloom. Her blond hair appeared thicker than ever, her skin was velvety and her blue eyes shone. At four months along, her abdomen formed a healthy mound beneath her calf-length blue cotton dress.

“I just fried more bacon, so hurry before it gets cold!” she said, as if the mouthwatering scent filling the air hadn’t already given away the menu. “And don’t tell Heather what I’m eating. I’m sure bacon isn’t on the nutrition list.”

“It’s fine with me,” Amy said as she scurried inside. “I need comfort food.”

“Whatever’s bothering you, it must be bad. When you’re upset, I’ve noticed that you tend to binge on junk food,” Natalie said as they crossed the marbled foyer. A circular staircase rose to their right while, at the back, the foyer opened into a sunken living room.

“Doesn’t everybody?” Amy asked.

“When I’m upset, I hug my stuffed bunny. Or I used to. Now I hug Patrick.”

Amy wished she could turn to Quent when she was upset. Unfortunately, he was the cause of her problems, not the solution.

“You’re sure
Patrick’s in his office?” she asked. “This is really, really personal.”

“He’s buried up to his neck. I’ve warned him, no paperwork, no laptop, no e-mail, no phone calls on our honeymoon.” The pair planned a Caribbean cruise. “We’ll be working late every night this week, but it’s worth it.”

“I can imagine,” Amy said.

“Mostly I think he’s worried about the Endowment Fund,” Natalie confided, lowering her voice. “It was a noble idea to raise thirty million dollars by May and assure the future of Doctors Circle, but he may have been overly optimistic. We’re only up to ten million.”

“That sounds like a lot to me,” Amy said.

“It’s only a third of the goal,” her friend said. “Well, there’s time left. Lots of things can happen between now and May.”

They strolled into the kitchen. Cheerful even on an overcast day, it provided a splendid view of the bluffs and the ocean. With its generous cabinet and counter space and a center island, it provided enough room for even the most ambitious cook.

On one wall, an assortment of china rabbits filled a knickknack shelf. Below, another shelf displayed coffee mugs and a teapot decorated with bunnies. Natalie had been collecting them for years.

The two women perched at the round table, which was set with Peter Rabbit china. Muffins peeked from a napkin-covered basket. Scrambled eggs, bacon and, of course, coffee completed the meal.

“This is fabulous,” Amy said. “I feel better already.”

“I’m honored that the counselor has come to me for advice,” Natalie teased as they dug in.

“You were my first
choice.” Amy wished briefly that she could confide in her mother. Although she’d long ago reestablished a friendly relationship with her mom, Frieda, being abandoned at the age of twelve was a difficult obstacle to overcome.

“Well?” Natalie finished buttering a muffin. “Don’t keep me in suspense!”

“It’s Quent,” Amy said. “I can’t figure him out.” She sketched last night’s events, including his abrupt emotional withdrawal. “It was as if I hit a wall. I don’t even know why. Did we really go too far too fast? Did he get jolted out of his daze and realize he’d nearly made a big mistake? Or was it my clumsiness that put him off?”

“I’m no genius at figuring out men,” Natalie admitted, her expression rueful. “My first marriage was a disaster.”

“You were young,” Amy said. “I’m thirty-three. What’s my excuse?”

“You can take pride in your accomplishments,” Natalie said. “It’s not your fault you haven’t found the right guy.”

“Or I’ve found him and lost him,” she said sadly.

“I’ll bet he got cold feet.” Natalie poured them each a second cup of coffee. “You’re too much woman for him.”

The remark startled a laugh from Amy. “I wish!”

“Honestly, you’ve got blinders on,” her friend said. “Men practically keel over when you walk by.”

“It’s the paint fumes.”

“No, it’s because you’re beautiful and smart, even if you don’t realize it,” Natalie pressed. “Take Rob Sentinel. He practically steps on his tongue every time he sees you.”

“Oh, come on.” Amy liked
the new obstetrician but she hadn’t had much contact with him. “He’s a good-looking guy. I’m sure he has more female companionship than he knows what to do with.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Natalie said. “Give Quent a rest. If he wants to put some distance between you, that’s his problem. Go out with other guys.”

Amy considered this advice while finishing her bacon and eggs. Occasionally she got asked out by some guy or other that she met while jogging or at the Paris Bar, but none of them had made much of an impression. “There isn’t anybody I want to go out with.”

“What about Rob?”

“He’s never asked me,” she said.

“The way you always hang out with Quent, he probably thinks you’re taken,” Natalie said. “I’ll tell you what. Friday night, we’re having an informal rehearsal dinner at Patrick’s sister’s house. She won’t mind if you invite Rob as your escort.”

Amy hadn’t asked a guy out since she got negative feedback in high school, but that had been a long time ago. And although she hadn’t felt any sparks toward Rob, he was undeniably good-looking. “It might seem odd, coming out of the blue.”

“Make it casual,” Natalie advised. “Since he’s new, suggest it’ll give him a chance to get to know people better. If he says no, what have you lost?”

Quent had said he wanted to go back to being friends. It might make him more comfortable if he knew she was going out with other men, Amy supposed. “You’re sure Patrick’s sister won’t mind an extra guest?”

“Bernie’s an inveterate matchmaker,” Natalie said. “She practically threw me and Patrick together. She’ll be thrilled to have you bring a date.”

“It’s worth a try,” Amy
agreed. Putting some psychological distance between herself and Quent was a good idea. In any case, she thought, it couldn’t hurt. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

She was pleased to discover that the decision calmed her. At the very least, it gave her something to focus on beyond Quent’s puzzling behavior.

Maybe the sense-memory of his touch while they were dancing and the whisper of his breath in the coil of her ear would finally fade. But she wasn’t banking on it.

“Okay, now, this doesn’t count,” Quent
said as he carried the basket of cookie flowers into Amy’s office on Monday.

It was a new item he’d spotted this morning at the Birthing Center gift shop, and he hadn’t been able to resist. Shaped and iced to resemble tulips, the giant cookies rose on sticks around a heart-shaped cookie traced with the words, “Congratulations!”

Amy regarded him with an endearing expression of puzzlement that made his heart perform loop-the-loops. Darn, but he’d missed her in the past two days!

“What are you congratulating me for?” she asked. “And what do you mean, it doesn’t count?”

“I’m congratulating you on your close escape from falling into the drink,” he said. “And it doesn’t count as a romantic gesture.”

That whole campaign had been a mistake, he’d concluded. This yearning to make fiery love to Amy carried within it the seeds of destruction of the best relationship in his life.

“Okay, you’ve cleared up the first point,” she said. “Now, what’s wrong with romantic gestures?”

“They lead to romance.” Quent
set the basket on her desk. It livened up the room, in his opinion.

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with romance?” Amy asked.

“It doesn’t last,” he said. “Friendship does.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“How many couples do you know who’ve managed to maintain a long-term love affair without eventually becoming alienated?” he challenged. He already knew her parents’ marriage had been a disaster, so surely she would understand.

Amy’s hands made graceful patterns in the air as she searched for an answer. She’d once told him it was part of her Italian heritage to talk as much with gestures as with words. “Well, there’s…” She stopped, stymied.

“My point exactly,” Quent said. “Now, how many people do you know who’ve remained friends for decades?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Several. But they’re people of the same sex, or colleagues who work together.”

“Like us.”

“Quent, are you going to deny what we both feel?” Amy demanded.

“The more we feel, the more precious it is,” he said, “and the more I want to preserve it.” Since she made no move to help herself, he plucked one of the tulip cookies from the basket and handed it to her. “These are meant to be eaten.”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” she said as if she hadn’t heard.

“I’m not.” Right now, Quent had an almost irresistible impulse to swing around Amy’s desk and kiss her. He stopped himself.

He still hadn’t sorted through the dark feelings roused by Saturday night’s near-accident.
Confronting painful emotions wasn’t part of his upbringing and it jarred him. He just wanted to get back to normal, which meant having fun with Amy, no strings attached.

Giving in, she took a bite out of the cookie. “It’s delicious. These are all for me, I presume.”

“You aren’t sharing?” Tasting them was half the point of the purchase.

“I think sharing is awfully romantic,” Amy said. “Therefore you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Friends share, too.”

“Friends don’t give presents, then keep half for themselves.” After a somber moment, she burst out laughing. “You should see your face! Disappointment is written all over it.”

“Does this mean you aren’t serious?” Quent asked hopefully.

“It’s hard to be serious around you. Go ahead, take one. But only one,” Amy warned.

Quent chose a luscious red flower. It tasted of sugar and spice with just the right degree of crunchiness. “It’s excellent.” As he ate, his gaze fell on four photographs mounted on the wall. The colorful images of children and babies at play reminded him of his niece and nephew. “Those are new, aren’t they?”

“What do you think of them?”

“Thumbs up.” He finished the cookie and tossed the stick into the wastebasket. “You must really like kids.”

“Of course,” Amy said. “You knew that.”

“No, I didn’t.” The discovery pleased him. Maybe soon they could both drive down and visit his niece and nephew, Quent thought.

“Do you want another one?” she asked.

“Another what?” Images of children
danced through his mind.

“I can’t believe there are cookies in the room and you’re thinking about something else,” Amy said.

“Oh, that.” He no longer cared about the cookies. He was too busy imagining Tara and Greg nestling into Amy’s arms. “No, thanks. I’d better head back to the clinic before Dudley shows up to lecture me. I just came to say hello.”

“And bring me a present,” Amy reminded him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There was so much more he wanted to give her. As a friend, of course, he told himself, and went back to work.

A
MY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND
Quent. Over the next few days, he behaved almost like his old self, yet whenever they happened to touch, he pulled back. He was protecting himself, she supposed. Perhaps, in a way, he was protecting her, too.

Although Amy would have given almost anything to recapture the tenderness they’d experienced on Saturday night, doubts crept in. Maybe Quent was right. She had no experience with sustaining relationships. What made her think she could hold on to a guy as devastatingly attractive as he was?

Being friends meant something special to them both. Maybe it could be enough.

On Wednesday, she got some good news. A high-pressure system moved in and the long-delayed roofers were finally able to start. She was told the roof should be fixed by the following week, so Amy scheduled the interior work to begin on her condo.

Wednesday also marked her first counseling session with Cynthia Hernandez, Heather’s nurse. The young woman’s mood was more cheerful than it had been the previous week, mostly because Heather had returned to work.

She poured out her story
to a sympathetic Amy. Earlier in the year, Cynthia had begun dating a man, only to learn later that he was married. By that time, she was pregnant—with twins.

Even though she knew she’d been tricked, Cynthia had a hard time accepting that her boyfriend wasn’t going to leave his wife and take care of her. Amy encouraged her to talk about her emotionally abusive father and to see the similarities to her boyfriend. Pleased at the insight, Cynthia scheduled another session for the following week.

By Friday, Amy was more than ready for the weekend break. She’d been racing around yesterday and today, checking on her new roof and paying for it when the work was finished, which had happened that afternoon.

To complicate matters, she hadn’t slept well all week. Her brain kept replaying Saturday’s fiasco, trying to make it come out differently. And failing.

The result was a stretched-out, light-headed sensation. Maybe that was why, as she prepared to leave work on Friday, the babies and children on the wall laughed and tumbled so vividly that she could almost hear their little voices. Merry eyes seemed to fix on her longingly.

It was like a dream come to life. They were so sweet, she wished they were hers.

You must really like kids.
Quent had thrown out the comment so casually that, at the time, it had scarcely registered.

Now tears blurred
Amy’s vision. She wanted so much to hold a baby in her arms! A child of her own, someone who needed her. Someone who belonged to her.

This was irrational, Amy scolded herself. She wasn’t even married and might never be. It must be the prospect of Natalie’s wedding that made her so emotional.

She went out, locked the door and leaned against it. Her heart was pounding and her throat felt dry. This was crazy. No, this was what people called her biological clock, ticking overtime in spite of her best intentions.

“Is something wrong?” She hadn’t heard Quent approach until he spoke.

“I guess I’m a little overexcited about the wedding rehearsal tonight,” she said.

“Do you need a hug?”

More than he knew! “Is that the pediatrician’s favorite prescription?”

“It works wonders.” Quent pulled her against his shoulder. “Tell your troubles to Dr. Ladd.”

“What if my trouble
is
Dr. Ladd?” Amy hadn’t meant to say anything so revealing. “Just kidding. All I need is to shift gears and get ready for tonight’s events.”

“There’s more than one?” he asked.

“There’s a dinner at Patrick’s sister’s house after the rehearsal.” She found herself reluctant to mention that Rob Sentinel was escorting her. As Natalie had predicted, the soft-spoken obstetrician had accepted her invitation immediately.

Although Amy liked him, she had no desire to nestle against him as she was doing now with Quent. Pushing aside her reflections, she took several deep breaths. Quent smelled like home,
she mused happily. And like safety.

But the impression was illusory. Even the curve of his arm closing around her, holding her in place, was only the support of a friend.

Regretfully, Amy slipped away. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

“We can’t have that.” He watched her thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I’ve got to work.”

“Maybe I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”

“I’ll wave as you go down the aisle,” he said.

Outside, Amy drove home beneath a spectacular pink sunset that transformed Serene Beach into a fairyland. She wished Quent were here to see it.

Rob Sentinel arrived at Aunt Mary’s door promptly at six-thirty. The young obstetrician looked darkly attractive in his suit, and Amy wished she could experience something stronger than admiration.

In his early thirties, Rob had an air of confidence and a ready smile, but there was something reserved about him, too. Perhaps it was the scar on one cheek that gave him an air of mystery.

In the car, they talked about Heather’s return to work. Rob, who’d been taking care of her patients while building up a caseload of his own, was glad his colleague had returned.

The rehearsal took place at the Serenity Fellowship Church, located next to Doctors Circle. Amy was touched that Patrick had not only chosen his brother-in-law, advertising executive Mike Lincoln, as his best man, but also his two young nephews as his ushers.

The minister outlined the service, the choirmaster told them when the hymns would be sung, and the bridal party walked through their roles. Then they left for Mike and Bernie Barr Lincoln’s house in Serene Cove.

“I hadn’t
seen this part of town before,” Rob said as they drove between harborside luxury homes. “It’s impressive.”

“I’ve never been here before, either.”

They fell silent. Amy suspected there was a deep mind at work beneath Rob’s low-key manner, and under other circumstances he might be a fascinating conversationalist, but it would take the right woman to bring him out. Tonight had demonstrated to her satisfaction that she was not that woman.

Inside the Lincolns’ multi-level home, caterers had set up a sumptuous buffet. In addition to the wedding party, Patrick and Natalie had invited several out-of-town guests and close friends.

Their hostess, Patrick’s sister Bernie, bubbled with good spirits as she greeted her guests. A vivacious young woman whose curly brown hair showed flashes of red-gold, she clearly enjoyed making everyone feel at home.

Amy was glad to see Rob become absorbed in talking to Mike. Although he might not excel at small talk, her date did know how to connect with people.

“Well?” Natalie asked her when they met by the coffee server. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” she said.

“No heaving bosom? No rocketing pulse?”

“Nowhere close,” Amy told her.

Natalie pretended to pout. “Who am I going to throw my bouquet to?”

“Not me!” said Heather, who was pouring herself a cup of decaf.

“Not me, either,” Natalie’s sister
Candy chimed in from where she stood nearby. “I like being single.”

“I’ll take it,” volunteered Angie, Natalie’s mother. “I wouldn’t mind getting married again.”

As Candy and Natalie teased their mother about her latest boyfriend, a long-haired carpenter named Clovis who was making short work of the dessert offerings, Amy rejoined Rob by the buffet table. She wanted to make sure he had a good time, since he was her guest. “How’re you doing?”

“Mike was telling me about his latest advertising campaign. I’m surprised Doctors Circle hasn’t made more use of his talents,” Rob said. “He could be a major resource for the Endowment Fund campaign.”

“That’s a good idea,” Amy said. “You should send Patrick an e-mail and suggest it, although obviously he won’t be doing anything about it right away.”

“Why not?” Rob said.

“He’s going to be on his honeymoon.”

“Oh, right.”

At this point, she’d have been poking Quent in the ribs and giving him a hard time about forgetting such an important event. With Rob, she didn’t dare crack a joke for fear of looking foolish.

That was when, on the far side of the expansive living room, Amy spotted Quent, holding a couple of packages. Even in a crowd, he caught her attention instantly. What a relief! Nothing felt right without him.

It took a moment before she realized he wasn’t alone. In fact, he was riveted on the stunning blond woman at his side.

Who was she? And, come to think of it, why had Quent showed up at an event he had no business attending? Amy wished all these other people would go away so she could give him a piece of her mind.

W
HAT WAS
Amy doing with Rob
Sentinel? It was possible they’d simply run into each other by the buffet table, but something in Rob’s stance gave Quent the impression he took a protective interest in her.

Beside him, the blonde continued talking. She’d explained when they arrived on the doorstep at the same time that she was Natalie’s oldest sister.

“I flew down from Oregon as a surprise,” Alana was saying as she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “My mother and I don’t see eye-to-eye, and I’m not close to my sisters, although I did lend Nat my wedding dress. My husband said if I missed the big day, I’d always regret it, so here I am.”

“You can’t skip an event like this.” Inspired to elaborate, Quent added, “Families feud for generations over less. In fact, I think that’s how the Hatfields and the McCoys got started. Somebody missed a wedding reception, and the next thing you know, they were shooting each other.”