Just Beginning: A Prequel to Just Destiny Page 3

  “Well... Yeah.” She squirmed in her seat, clearly uncomfortably. “I’m not a snob—really I’m not. It’s just that I’d never have guessed a station wagon.”

  “Maybe I can’t afford a better car?”

  “Does that mean I’m paying for dinner?”

  He laughed. “Of course not.” He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m not a very good doctor?”

  “And you admit this to your patient’s sister?”

  “Gonna sue me?”

  “Only if you screw up.”

  “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “I don’t need to impress anybody. The wagon suits me fine.”

  She bit her lip, hesitating before pressing to the heart of her discomfort. “It’s black.”

  “What?”

  “The car. It’s black.”

  “I like black.”

  “No offense, but It looks like a hearse.”

  He scowled and reared his head back in surprise. “A what?”

  She sniffed the air, as if searching for the noxious scent of formaldehyde or the sweet cloying odor of ripe flowers. “A hearse. You know, those black funeral cars that carry dead people around.”

  “I know what a hearse is.” Silence filled the car a good five seconds before Gabe could think of a reply. “It does not.”

  Eyebrows raised, she tilted her head and winced in apology. “Yeah, it does. I’m sorry, but it reminds me of a hearse. All it needs is the little funeral flag.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Well, it does.” A cute blush tinted her earnest face.

  “At least you’re honest,” he chuckled. “Morbid, but honest.”

  What an interesting perspective on life, amusing and spontaneous. Refreshing.

  They turned into the Hunt Club and drove down the long asphalt driveway under interlacing maple trees. Four green, freshly resurfaced outdoor tennis courts stood to the left of the entrance, and on the far side of them, farthest from the musty hay and horse smells, sat the club’s pristine pool and red brick clubhouse.

  From the big red and white barn straight ahead, a large brown horse with a jagged white mark bisecting his nose bobbed his head over his stall door. He nickered loudly to a fat gray pony standing in the shade, flicking his tail and chewing lazily as a groom sluiced water over his broad back.

  Gabe exited the car to the rhythmic clip clop of a horse’s hooves tapping the asphalt as a young girl urged her horse into a quick walk across the drive to the dirt corral. Alex had loved taking riding lessons here; she still enjoyed walking through the barns, petting a horse here and there and sneaking the gray fat pony carrots purloined from dinner.

  The indoor tennis courts and riding rink were housed in the brown brick building next to the u-shaped stables. Colorful impatiens and daylilies circled the buildings. Altogether, the pastoral environment, secretly nestled in the heavily populated residential area, had a soothing effect on him. This was the kind of feeling he’d always wanted to come home to, but what was the point of creating this haven only for himself?

  Standing beside the open car door, Jenny’s wide eyes took it all in. “Wow. This is great. So peaceful.”

  Gabe smiled and stood a little taller. Shrugging out of his suit coat, he tossed it in the backseat. He took her elbow and moved her away from the car so he could lock it.

  Walking toward the clubhouse, Jenny suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. She arched a brow. “Wait. You drive a station wagon, but have a membership to The Hunt Club?”

  He relinquished her hand to pull open the dark wooden door. With a firm nudge at her back, he urged her through the entrance. “I play a lot of tennis.”

  “A private club?”

  “The food’s terrific.”

  Jenny laughed, a light airy sound that brushed away his defensiveness. “I’m sure it is.”

  At his request, the hostess seated them on the enclosed patio overlooking the swimming pool and outdoor tennis courts. She took their drink order and left them looking over the menu.

  Jenny closed the menu and put it aside. “So when can Michael come home?”

  “Tomorrow. He’s done great since the transfusion.” The waiter interrupted him to take their order. When he left, Gabe settled the cloth napkin across his lap. “So, how was your week? Did you get your article done?”

  “Part one. I sent it in yesterday.” He listened with interest as she detailed the kind of medical assistance the clinic offered and what the directors hoped to achieve, with special emphasis on how it was largely run by volunteer medical professionals.

  She told him about the heartbreaking poverty she’d witnessed and the air of hopelessness permeating the neighborhood. “Hopefully, my article will spur some positive interest in the clinic.”

  Her impassioned talk reminded him of similar speeches he’d heard when his parents had solicited donations for their latest cause. “It’s a large project.”

  “They want to make a difference.”

  “Don’t we all?” He sipped his red wine and then reached for a hard roll. With quick mechanical thrusts, he slapped whipped butter on the bread.

  Resting her elbows on the table, Jenny laced fingers around wine glass and tilted her head to the side. “What’re you thinking?”

  His attention snapped back to her. “Nothing really. I just hope they haven’t taken on more than they can handle.”

  “Seemed pretty realistic to me.”

  “I’ve had a little experience with hospital politics. This clinic is a more complex issue than you’ve been led to believe. I don’t think they can do it relying that heavily on volunteers. They need an enormous amount of capital, state or federally funded. Private sector donations aren’t going to cut it.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it. Why don’t you help?”

  “I could,” he allowed, reluctant yet intrigued. His practice kept him so busy that it’d been ages since he’d volunteered for anything. “My parents were in the Peace Corps,” he said.

  “And...”

  “They died in a poor little village in Columbia.”

  “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “They caught amoebic dysentery. I was only twelve when they died. Before that, I’d traveled with them around the world wherever they were sent. It was a great adventure for a little boy—and a sad education. The people were so poor.” In his mind’s eye, he could still clearly picture the flimsy tin lean-tos. “The lucky ones had stick huts with tin roofs, and the wealthy ones had sandals. After my folks died, I went to live with my aunt and uncle.”

  Sympathy softened her expression. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

  “Could have been worse. Aunt Adele and Uncle George were great. They were never able to have kids of their own, so it seemed like we were meant to be together.”

  “What an eventful childhood.” She put her wine glass down. “Did you ever want to follow in your parents’ footsteps, or did you resent their life?”

  “I never resented what happened. Uncle George was angry enough for all of us. He was close to my mom and blamed my father and the Peace Corps for her death. But my parents loved helping others. They’d needed to try and make a difference—it’s who they were. They often gave up their own quinine tablets so that the less hardy locals wouldn’t get sick.”

  “What about you?” she asked softly.

  “I always had quinine.”

  The conversation had turned uncomfortably personal and serious for a first date. Gabe hadn’t thought about his parents and his unusual childhood in years. He had a lot of happy memories—his parents had been loving and generous, but their early deaths left a scar. Being orphaned was tough—even when raised by family.

  The waiter delivered their dinner, and they ate in comfortable silence.

  “After college, I considered joining the Corps,” Gabe admitted.

  “And?”

  “Uncle George had a fit. He was hurt and betrayed. He even threatened to disinherit
me.” Gabe chuckled, a dry mirthless sound. “I wanted to join the Peace Corps—like I cared about money.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I stayed. He took me in and raised me.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t hurt him like that.”

  “What about your aunt?”

  “Aunt Adele died of a stroke when I was fifteen.”

  Jenny blew out a dramatic breath. “Mother died, aunt died, wife divorced. Women don’t last long around you do they, Harrison?”

  He chuckled. “Guess not.” The he held her gaze. “It’d take a special woman to stay with me.”

  The waiter interrupted to clear their plates. Declining dessert and coffee, they paid the bill and left the club.

  Gabe groaned and patted his flat stomach. “I could use some exercise. Want to walk along the lake?”

  “Sure.”

  They parked at the bottom of Woodland Shores Drive and crossed Lakeshore. The breeze lofted strands of Jenny’s long hair before settling dark tendrils across his navy jacket arm, clinging like a sticky web. He jammed his hands deep in his pockets to keep from reaching out, gathering the escaped locks, and rubbing them to see if they were as soft as he imagined them to be.

  Instead, Gabe scanned the glossy water dotted with hopeful sailboats and sighed. “It’s beautiful here.”

  Beautiful woman. Beautiful sunset. Beautiful night. If he put his arm around Jenny, would she lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder while soaking in the serenity of the lake or was it too soon?

  She stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, looking out across the water.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “It’s a little chilly.”

  He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She reached behind her to free her hair, but then the jacket began sliding off. Gabe brushed her hands aside. “I got it.”

  While she held onto the lapels, he gathered the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled the long strands free of his jacket, reluctantly releasing them to tumble down her back. Softer than he’d imagined, with the light airy scent of springtime.

  “Thanks.” Jenny shot him a quick, bright smile as they began walking. “I’d love to have a house on the water. Can you imagine how amazing it’d be to come home to this every day? It’d be the perfect place to write—so beautiful and quiet. How could you not be creative, surrounded by all that?” She paused. “We lived in San Diego for a while. I couldn’t wait to get back to Michigan.”

  “Missed the humidity and bugs, did you?” He took her hand and pulled her away from a swarm of gnats, then didn’t let go. Her small hand disappeared beneath his big paw, and he loved how it automatically curled into his. There was something intimate yet comforting about walking hand-in-hand. He’d missed this connection.

  “Hardly,” she said dryly. “I missed the huge green trees, the space, and seasons. I love the colors and smells in the fall, the biting winter, ice storms and all. And the spring—I can’t imagine a more beautiful place in the spring with all the trees flowering. The summer may be a little hot, but if I could live by the lake, it’d be worth it.”

  “I agree. A lot of people aren’t as blessed.”

  “Yeah, but we all have something to be thankful for.”

  “Tell that to the poor folks living in roach-infested dumps, struggling to eke out a living, trying to feed and clothe their kids while protecting them from gangs. I bet they have a little trouble finding blessings to count.”

  Jenny’s sideways, cautious look told him he’d been a little too emphatic.

  “Sorry. Guess I feel a little guilty. We’ve had a great meal and are enjoying this beautiful lake, while those poor people at that clinic have next to nothing. Comparatively.”

  “So why don’t you help? Give them some time at the clinic? They’re always looking for doctors to volunteer. One afternoon a week would be a huge help.”

  He pursed his lips in consideration. He could. “Maybe I will. It’d be good to feel useful again.”

  The pager on his hip sounded. No. Not now. Damn it.

  Gabe released her hand to check the number. His shoulders drooped. “ICU I’m sorry; I’ve got to answer this.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled. “I don’t mind."

  His hand went to his belt and the empty phone case, and then he patted his pockets.

  “It’s in your car. Charging.”

  “Right.” Damn. “I hate to cut our walk short, but—”

  “You have to answer the page.” Jenny took his arm and turned them around. “If you weren’t having a good time you could’ve taken me straight home. No need to have your buddy page you with a fake emergency.”

  “Wha—?” He frowned and his pace slowed before halting completely as he got it. “Hey, no. This is for real. I—”

  Her lips spread in a wide grin. “I’m teasing you.” His pager sounded again. Jenny tugged on his arm. “Come on. Let’s go. You need to save a life.”

  She’d been kidding? “Have you done that often?”

  “Tease?”

  “Have a friend text you to get you out of an awful date?”

  She gave him an impish look. “Maybe a time or two. You haven’t?”

  “Nope. No need.” He lightly squeezed her hand. “I’m an excellent judge of character.”

  “And. It never occurred to you.”

  He grinned. No way he was going to admit that. They hurried back to the car, where Gabe could answer the page in relative privacy.

  Tuning out his conversation, Jenny settled back in the cloth seat and blew out a contented sigh. Nice dinner followed by a pleasant walk by the lake and not much first date awkwardness. Gabe was intelligent, interesting, and caring. So where was his fatal flaw?

  She peeked at Gabe out of the corner of her eye, admiring his handsome face, kind eyes, and the soothing timbre of his voice. He was polished, she’d give him that, and when he smiled he was irresistible. His smile literally made her heart flutter. This guy had definite potential. She pulled his jacket tighter around her. But his car definitely was weird. It really did remind her of a hearse—she hadn’t been teasing him about that.

  Gabe held out his phone to her. “Say hello to Betty.”

  “Wha—?” Jenny automatically took the phone. Then she glimpsed the sparkle in his eyes.

  He nodded at the phone. “Go on.”

  She brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Jenny. My name is Betty and I’m a nurse in the ICU”

  Jenny’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Gabe, who watched her intently.

  Are you kidding me right now?

  “Dr. Harrison wanted me to assure you that he’s having a marvelous time on his date, and he’s heartbroken that he has to cut your evening short, but he really does need to go to work and this really is an emergency.”

  Seriously? She looked at Gabe’s amused expression, knowing he could easily hear every word. Touché, Doctor.

  “And how much is Dr. Harrison paying you to say that?”

  Betty laughed. “Nothing. We love Dr. Harrison. He’s a real sweetie.”

  “Say goodbye,” Gabe ordered as he held out his hand. Was that a blush darkening his cheeks?

  “He doesn’t date nearly enough,” Betty said.

  “Is that so?” Jenny gave him a sly look, and leaned away as he tried to snatch his phone.

  “Which was why I was so sorry to have to bother him tonight, but—”

  Jenny grinned at Gabe’s scowl and took pity on him. “Goodbye, Betty. It was nice chatting with you.” She handed Gabe his cell.

  Gabe mumbled a goodbye, turned on the car, and drove away from the peaceful lake. “You seem to have trust issues. I thought you might need proof that I wasn’t ditching you.”

  “Thanks,” she said dryly. “Now she’s gonna think I’m some clingy, insecure woman.”

  “Hardly. She’s going to think I’m pitiful and inept since I needed her to vouch for me. But if Betty met you...” He
gave her a warm, admiring look that curled her toes. “She’d know I’m a very lucky guy.”

  Well, heck. It’s hard to tease someone when he’s so darn sweet. Tonight had been great; Jenny didn’t want it to end so soon. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring me in and make Betty tell me to my face.”

  “I don’t dare,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “I thought of it, but I wasn’t sure how long I’d be and I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

  “And considerate, too.” Jenny smiled. “Somebody raised you right, Harrison.”

  “Why, thank you, ma’am.”

  At her apartment, Gabe walked Jenny to the door. She faced him and smiled. “Thanks for dinner. I had a great time.”

  “Me, too. Sorry we had to cut our walk short.”

  “Me, too.” She looked down, feeling stupid at having mimicked his words. She was a journalist for pity’s sake; she ought to be able to come up with her own words.

  He glanced back at his car. “I’d better get going.”

  Ordinarily she would have invited him in, but a patient was waiting for him. Should she kiss him? A quick glance up the street showed that her neighbors had retired for the night.

  Gabe lifted her chin and brushed a light kiss across her lips, a little more than a taste really, then turned and walked away.

  Jenny opened her eyes and frowned at the empty space in front of her, then found his retreating back. That’s it? That’s all she got? Gabe was nearly at his car when she called out, “Gabe, wait.”

  He stopped and turned around.

  “You forgot something.”

  Gabe retraced his steps, and she met him halfway. Jenny’s gaze locked onto his gray eyes, willing him to kiss her again. Hands pressed against his warm chest, she held on tight. His head lowered and his eyelids drifted shut in a lazy, sensual promise. She rose up on tiptoe and leaned into him. She longed to snuggle into his neck where the faint, yet heady, scent of cologne and male tantalized her.

  Her breath quickened with the effort to keep her hands from exploring the hard muscles beneath her damp palms. In all honesty, she’d been curious about this since she’d first awakened in Michael’s room and seen him watching them sleep.