Flirting With Trouble Read online

  “That’s your trouble.” Rochelle shot Della a haughty look. “If you tended more to the business end of the clinic you could lift yourself out of that boarding house situation with the Scherers.”

  “He loves livin’ with us! Any fool can figure out that a man driving a Corvette can settle anyplace he wants to.”

  Annoyed with the uncomfortable course the conversation had taken, Brett moved past the dueling ladies with his bundle. “Turn on the lights in exam room one, will you, Rochelle?”

  The nurse trotted behind, flipping a switch on the wall to flood the room with fluorescent light.

  “Help Mandy into a gown and get that ankle elevated. I’ll be back.”

  Brett returned to the waiting room for a last word with Della. “You may as well go home.”

  “All right. You know Sunday dinner is always hectic, with old Colonel Geoff expecting homemade gravy for his spuds and Beatrice Flaherty with her heart set on the good china.” She jabbed a finger toward the inner rooms. “Just keep in mind that that one is way too familiar with you.”

  “Oh, so you heard her tirade on the male sex.”

  “Not our mystery girl. Rochelle Owens.”

  “Della, I don’t object to being called Brett—by anyone in town.”

  “When you’re ministering to your patients, you are Doc. Employees like Rochelle should set the tone for dignity.”

  He gave her a tiny salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Della dug her keys back out of her boxy purse. “I’ll keep dinner warm if you don’t make it on time.”

  Brett glanced at his watch to discover it was close to 4:00 p.m. “I’ll try and make it—for Tess’s sake. Tomorrow is her first day of kindergarten. She might be nervous.”

  “That child? She’ll be running circles ’round that cute little teacher. But she will want you to help her pick out her clothes and inventory her backpack for the tenth time.”

  Brett patted her shoulder. “Thanks for looking after the two of us so well.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “If you weren’t married, I’d—”

  Della pinkened in delight. “Don’t start that nonsense again. I’m a forty-five-year-old heap and you’re a thirty-year-old hot babe.”

  “Still, Frank’s a lucky man.”

  Della took a step, then halted. “Oh, yes. If Mandy doesn’t need hospital care, bring her back to the house.”

  Brett was startled. “She doesn’t belong to us, Della.”

  “No, but the poor thing seems all alone. I mean, no one there on the street recognized her as anyone’s friend or relative—which is rare considering the busybodies on hand. Besides, in her condition, it would be unkind to subject her to that nosy dimwit Fritz Geller and a drab room at the Fair-weather. Especially since I have a room available, after Emmaline Josten’s passing.”

  “All right. Maybe it would be best, at least for tonight.”

  “And you’ll get her belongings.”

  “Eventually.” He thrust a finger at the door. “Now scat!”

  Clad in a hideous cotton gown, Amanda lay back on the examination table with a sigh. She’d lost sight of Doc Handsome and didn’t like it. Even though she’d spent a week-long bus ride generally cursing the whole male species, there was something quite extraordinary about her rescuer. His eyes held a gentleness, his voice a firmness, his touch an assurance.

  Doc Handsome was certainly no daddy’s boy like Trevor, jockeying for position by marrying the boss’s daughter. Doc was master of his turf. When he snapped out orders, people obeyed. Mandy hadn’t overlooked his sex appeal, either. She’d spent the entire car ride with her head against his chest. Breathing against his sweat-dampened T-shirt, she’d found his scent intoxicating. Listening to his heartbeat, she’d found its quick rhythm exhilarating.

  Not bad for a girl who’d just taken a flying leap off a fender.

  “We’re going to do a few tests, miss.”

  Amanda blinked at the sound of the nurse’s voice. The tall redhead took her blood pressure, then jammed a thermometer in her mouth and excused herself to prepare for an X-ray. Amanda sat up and took in the exam room. It certainly was a poor cousin to her Manhattan physician’s plush suites. In place of smooth white walls boasting scenic oils were fake wood panels with posters of the human body and SpongeBob Squarepants juggling the food groups. In place of a sleek, marble-topped desk with leather chair was a low Formica counter with stool. But, she supposed, all the necessary medical equipment was on hand: blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, gooseneck lamp, tongue depressors, exam gloves, lubricant. All that was missing was him.

  Moments later the door swung open. Doc Handsome whisked the thermometer out of her mouth and checked it. With a satisfied nod, he adjusted his stethoscope and listened to her heart.

  “Still feeling dizzy?”

  “A little.”

  “That might be because of low blood sugar or dehydration. Tell me what you’ve consumed today.”

  “Two cups of coffee and something called a strawberry freezie.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Follow my fingers.” With a frown he moved them back and forth in front of her eyes. “Good.” He grabbed a flashlight from the counter and flashed it in front of her pupils. “Now close your eyes and extend your arms in front of you.” He tsked as her arms drifted down slightly. “Okay, now grasp my hand.” He gently watched her try to squeeze his fingers with little success, then asked her to describe any other painful areas on her body. Aside from a bruised elbow, her ankle was her only complaint.

  “What do you think, Doc?”

  “Rochelle tells me your blood pressure is a bit low. And you rated about a C on all my tests. In simple terms, I think you’re exhausted. We’ll get you down to X-ray, though, for a good look.” He smiled as she blanched. “Don’t panic, it’s just a precautionary measure. I doubt anything’s broken.”

  “Hope I won’t need a hospital stay.”

  “Highly unlikely. No, I intend to take you home with me.”

  The announcement seemed a little more personal than necessary. And it had to be bringing her blood pressure back up.

  As if reading something unsettling in her expression, he added hastily, “Della’s personally invited you. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Oh, the landlady. I liked her style.”

  Rochelle appeared with a wheelchair. “By the way, is there anyone in town we can call on your behalf?”

  “Yes. Ivy Waterman.”

  Brett and Rochelle exchanged a surprised look.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “She just doesn’t seem your type,” Rochelle admitted.

  “What type?”

  The nurse all but snickered. “Well, she’s too sensible to ram into a car on a bike.”

  Since when was Ivy Divey sensible?

  Thirty minutes later Amanda’s left ankle was wrapped in an Ace bandage and she was outfitted with crutches. As she eased back into her clothing in the exam room, she could hear doctor and nurse talking in the corridor.

  “I don’t mind driving you home, Brett. Really.”

  “You were so short with her in there, I thought—”

  “Sorry. Guess I was surprised—that she knows Ivy, that Della wants to take her in—without a clue to her background. You know I like looking out for you!”

  Brett’s voice was firm. “Ivy’s business is none of ours. As for Della, she’s a good judge of people and has the space—since Emmaline Josten’s passing. Now let’s get moving.”

  As Rochelle’s Cutlass pulled up near the spot on the boulevard where Amanda had taken her tumble, the sun was setting on the grand old Victorian house.

  “Look!” Rochelle hooted. “Somebody spread dandelions on the boulevard—like a memorial.”

  Amanda gulped. “It was only a spill.”

  “That has to be Tess’s handiwork.” With a chuckle Brett emerged from the back seat with crutches in hand to assist Am
anda, who was seated in the front. “She’s got a real thing about sharing the love through dandelions.”

  “Her mother teach her that?” The question was a clumsy way to find out if Brett was married, but Amanda wasn’t in the habit of resisting temptation of any kind.

  Brett shoved the passenger door shut with force. “Her mother is dead.”

  “Oh.”

  Rochelle lingered with the engine running, her expression hopeful. If she was waiting for an invitation inside from Brett, it wasn’t to be. With a thanks and a wave, he concentrated on helping his patient up the front walk and onto the porch.

  “Daddy! Daddy-daddy!” Tess flung open the front door and stood jumping up and down in the foyer. “Want to see my backpack again?”

  “Sure, honey. Stand back now.”

  Tess backed off as Brett helped Amanda navigate the crutches over the threshold. “I am going to school tomorrow, Mandy. Afternoon kindergarten. In the afternoon!”

  Della appeared in the hallway, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Finally! Frank! Come and meet Mandy.”

  A tall, angular man with thinning brown hair, dressed in twill pants and a yellowed T-shirt, appeared in the living room doorway to the right of the foyer. He waved the folded newspaper in his hand. “It’s a pleasure.” With a congenial nod, he disappeared again.

  Della went on excitedly. “I take it your patient is well enough to stay on here rather than a drab hospital room.”

  Amanda felt unusually shy under the woman’s friendly, straightforward inspection. “This is really nice of you. But I am registered at the Fair—”

  “Yes, I recognized the bike. But anyone who lands on my curb gets a dose of my hospitality.”

  Brett rubbed his hands together. “Boy, am I hungry.”

  Della hooted. “Then you better get busy.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The bike! Pack up that thing in my station wagon and get over to the Fair-weather. Collect Mandy’s things. If Fritz Geller gives you any lip about a bill, tell him that clunker of his is a hazard—that he’s up for a lawsuit.”

  “Can I at least have a snack for the road?”

  “Wait, Daddy.” Tess dashed into the dining room and returned with a single carrot stick. “Here you go.”

  Brett bleakly accepted his snack. “Keep the oven warm. I’ll be right back.”

  “I should come along,” Amanda suggested. “I’m half unpacked.”

  “Can’t be much to it. I’ll pack it best I can.”

  “But I really should…”

  Brett touched her chin. “You need rest. Starting now.”

  Their gazes locked in a dueling current that made her weak knees grow slightly weaker. Stubborn by nature, Amanda tried to fight off the overwhelming desire to surrender to his will without protest. It seemed unwise to allow anyone the chance to riffle her belongings at leisure and discover her true identity. Taking a quick mental inventory of what he’d see, she decided the risk would be minimal.

  “All right,” she relented. “I’ll settle in here.” So much for her stab at an incognito arrival!

  The spell between them was already broken as Della crossed between the couple to shoo Tess back to the living room, where Frank was enduring a children’s program on his own.

  Peering in after them, Amanda decided the scene was straight out of an old movie. Cozy home in a residential neighborhood, the smell of beef in the air. Hostess with apron. Host with yellowed undershirt. It was nothing like her existence back in New York, time spent between the formal Pierpont mansion and her impersonal upscale apartment. It was true that she’d always treated her father a lot like Tess treated hers, but Lowell had never responded in kind.

  “Can I show you upstairs, Mandy?” Della returned to ask solicitously. Suddenly feeling dizzy again, Amanda leaned on her crutches.

  Brett was quick to intervene, knocking the crutches out from under Amanda, scooping her up in his arms. “Good thing I was still here.”

  “As if you’ve even shown signs of leaving!” Della caught the crutches and led Brett and Amanda up the stairs. Wheeling into the first room on the left, she switched on the overhead light.

  Amanda judged the decor was several notches above the Fair-weather, with peach-toned bedspread and curtains. The furniture was plain and white, but plentiful.

  Brett deposited her on the bed.

  “Quit hovering,” Della scoffed. “She’ll be here when you return.”

  He strode out.

  Della propped Amanda’s pillows then moved to the windows overlooking the front yard to lower the shades. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I do happen to have a new vacancy for this room.”

  “Why, thank you. I’ll give that some thought.” The bigger question was, why hadn’t Ivy given this place some thought before sending her to Fritz?

  Della turned back with a broad smile. “Normally, I don’t take in strangers so readily. But I liked you on first sight, Mandy. Sure, you were knocked silly. But you seemed so sweet. And the way you called Brett ‘Doc Handsome.’ He just melted right there on the boulevard. I’ve never seen him express the slightest romantic interest in anyone the entire two years he’s lived here. Keeps things all bottled up, you see. Oh, he’s polite to all of us, and crazy for that little girl of his. But not one single female in this town has yet to make his eyes crinkle with delight the way you did.”

  “Maybe it was just the bright sunlight making him squint.”

  “Oh, no. There was no mistaking his reaction. And I say it’s about time things livened up a bit under this old roof. But don’t you go telling him any of this.” Della dusted her hands together for a final inspection. “Yes, you should be quite comfortable here in Emmaline’s space. Our best room.”

  Emmaline’s passing had been mentioned by Rochelle during her X-ray back at the clinic. Had she died in here? Gotten dandelion sprinkles from the kid? Amanda couldn’t help but be a little spooked. “I hope Emmaline’s passing wasn’t too…traumatic.”

  “Gosh, no. Just upped and left one night around seven. That traveling salesman did propose, it’s true. But I overheard the whole thing and it wasn’t a proposal of marriage!” With an indignant huff, Della swooped out the door.

  Amanda fell back on the bed laughing and groaning in pain all at once.

  “EVENIN’, DOC.”

  “Hello, Fritz.” Brett leaned into the reservations desk at the Fair-weather Motel. “I’m here about your new tenant. You know, the brunette.”

  “You mean, the blond.”

  “I wonder if we’re talking about the same woman.”

  “Sure we are. But she got off the bus as a blond.”

  Brett frowned. “How do you know?”

  “Saw it all through my binoculars. Sometimes I take a peek at the buses pulling in to scope for customers. She was standing by the driver and her hat flew off and yellow hair spilled out. Then she tucked her hair up in her hat and hauled her cute little butt up here to register. Next time I see her, she’s a brunette.”

  “Interesting story.”

  “Bet it’s just as good as the story behind my mangled bike. I seen you unloadin’ it out of Della’s station wagon.”

  Brett laid his palms on the desk. “Well, she took a nasty spill that required medical care. Della insists on putting her up at the boarding house.”

  “But she’s officially registered here. A guest of the Fair-weather.”

  “Was a guest of the Fair-weather. I’m here to collect her belongings.” Brett held up her room key.

  “But we’ve got our own trendy deal. She’s running a tab.”

  Brett appeared amused. “Consider it canceled here and now.”

  “Fine. But I want compensation for the room and bike, now damaged.”

  “As for the room, she hardly could have used it.”

  “She must’ve at least taken a shower. Looked real clean when she came lookin’ for a taxi.”

  “So she actually requested a taxi and you
put her on a bike instead?”

  “Tough to get a taxi—”

  “Knowing your bikes are ancient!”

  “Ain’t that old.”

  Brett didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “C’mon, Fritz, let’s have a look at the room, then figure out what you deserve.”

  Fritz snatched the room key from Brett and led the way outside to the rooms facing the back. Inserting the key in the loose doorknob, he tripped the lock and pushed opened the door. “Hey, she left a lamp on!”

  “Probably didn’t want anything to jump out at her in the dark.”

  “Like what?”

  Brett merely chuckled and headed for the bathroom. He quickly returned with cosmetics, which he set in the open suitcase on the dresser.

  “Big suitcase for such a little lady. But she wrestled it like a pro. Know what that means?”

  “That you didn’t help her.”

  Fritz’s mouth pruned. “It means she travels a lot.” He eased by Brett and checked out the tub and plastic curtain. “Told you! She showered.”

  Brett moved to the bed and started pushing things back into her overflowing tote bag. A wallet lay in sight, so he flipped it open for a look. There was no plastic, aside from an old photo ID for one Mandy Smythe.

  Fritz appeared at his side. “The likeness is unmistakable. But the hair is actually a third color, someplace between blond and brunette.”

  “So what? Lots of women dye their hair for the sheer fun of it.” If nothing else, he perceived Mandy as fun.

  Also, among the clutter was a cell phone. Presumably the ringer was turned off, but he knew someone was calling because it was buzzing and vibrating like crazy. Brett rested it in his palm for a moment, sorely tempted to answer it. This could very well be his chance to fill in some of the blanks. He debated the issue as the vibration traveled clear up his arm. Mandy herself sent the same kind of tingly current through him—an odd sort of thrill he was long unaccustomed to but suddenly realized he missed.

  She was all wrong for him, of course. And her stay was most likely temporary. Still, he didn’t want their unique chemistry shattered so soon by jarring reality. And as she wasn’t seriously hurt, she had a right to her privacy. He tossed the phone and other things into the suitcase.