Janet (9 page)

She made a quick dash for the front door and
ran solidly into a very large man.

“Excuse me.” She looked up to see Dan
Albany.

“As I live and breathe. If it’s not the good
Dr. Hall.” He brushed rain off her jacket and tucked a wet curl
behind her ear. “How are you, Doc?”

“Wet. Do we have to stand out here in the
rain talking?”

“I play better on a wet field.” He brushed
the back of his hand lightly across her damp cheek.

Shivers climbed up her spine. “Are you aiming
for a goal, or is this merely a pass?”

“That depends on the receiver.”

He cupped her chin, and she tried to blame
her shivers on the weather. She glanced around, half hoping for a
timely interruption, but they were the only two people crazy enough
to stand in the rain outside the clinic door.

“Don’t underestimate your receiver, Coach. l
can handle anything you can toss my way.”

“Then shall we try for a small pass?”

Cupping her face lightly between his palms,
Dan bent down and kissed her. Her lips were cold and wet with
rain.

He had meant the kiss to be a small play, a
diversionary tactic to throw her off guard. But his heart got in on
the act. And suddenly the game plan changed.

Sliding his hands down her shoulders and
around to the small of her back, he pulled her closer. Janet felt
of damp wool and female softness. She smelled of rain and jasmine
and faintly of hospital disinfectants, as if her profession were
some inborn part of her.

Feeling warm inside and slightly shaken by
her easy ability to get under his skin, he released her and stepped
back.

Except for the high color in her cheeks, she
still looked every inch the unflappable doctor.

Janet ran her hand lightly over her face to
brush away any lingering drops of rain, but mainly to give herself
time to regroup.

“Well, Coach. Since the game is over, I
suggest we go inside to see our dog.”

“The game isn’t over, Doc. It’s merely
intermission time.” He held open the clinic door. “After you.”

“What’s this? A sudden attack of
manners?”

“I get these attacks every now and then.”
Grinning, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “A few more kisses
like that, Doc, and I’ll forget my manners entirely.”

“I’m equal to the occasion.”

Dan assessed her with boldness of a seasoned
coach checking out the opposing team.

“I do believe you are, Doc,” he aid
softly.

Janet was saved by the arrival of Billie Jean
Haskins. Having fully recovered from her blunders on their previous
visit, she approached them with all the vigor and enthusiasm of an
army sergeant facing a roomful of new recruits.

“Dr. Hall, don’t you look as pretty as a
picture?” She glanced at Dan. “And Mr. Albany, I’m glad to see the
two of you here together. I guess that means you made up.”

“Made up?” Janet had a sudden vision of
romantic little Billie Jean Haskins peeking out the window while
she and Dan had been kissing on the doorstep. The story be on the
small town grapevine before she could sneeze. The next thing she
knew, she and Dan would be Tupelo’s hottest topic.

And Dan made matters worse. He stepped close
and put his arm around her shoulders.

“We certainly did, honey. I said to myself,
now is that any way to treat a beautiful lady doctor?” He winked
and squeezed her shoulders. “Besides, making up is always the best
part of any relationship.”

Billie Jean beamed. “I think so, too. Why,
sometimes I deliberately pick a fight with Wayne Earl—that’s my
boyfriend, drives a truck for Viking—just so we can kiss and make
up.” She flipped the book she was carrying until she found the name
of their dog. “I guess you two came to see Harvey. Follow me.”

As they fell into step, Janet looked at Dan
across the top of Billie Jean’s head. “What relationship?” she
mouthed.

“Opponents.”

Billie Jean jerked her head around. “Did you
say something, Mr. Albany?”

“I said, it’s almost upon us, this visit with
our dog.”

She beamed at him again, obviously content
that she had handled her job to perfection this time. No blunders
and attacks of acute embarrassment.

“It sure is.” She pushed open a door and
swept through. “You two wait right here. I’ll get Harvey for
you.”

They sat on straight-backed chairs designed
for torture. Janet, who never fidgeted, couldn’t sit still.

“Something wrong, Doc?”

“You might show a little remorse about
spinning tall tales for poor, gullible Billie Jean.”

“Maybe it’s not a tall tale.” He winked. “You
never know, Doc. We could turn out to be Tupelo’s answer to Prince
William and his Kate.”

“More the musical
Kiss Me Kate,
with
one big exception. You’ll neither woo nor tame me.”

He laughed so loud, a hound dog coming in
with his owner started baying.

“See,” she said. “Even the dog agrees with
me.”

“
Woo
and
tame,
is it?” He
winked again. “I do believe you’re turning into an old fashioned
woman.”

“In your dreams!”

Billie Jean came back carrying Harvey, who
spotted his people and started wagging his tail.

Janet jumped out of her chair, and to her
dismay felt a lump in her throat. Like all doctors, she’d schooled
herself to keep her emotions in check around sick patients. Still,
this was her
dog.
She stroked his fur and petted his head.
“How are you, old boy? Feeling better?”

Dan didn’t try to hold back his emotions. He
leaned down and nuzzled his head against the big dog’s head.

“Harvey, do you have any idea how much I’ve
missed you? You old cuddlebum, you’ve had me worried half to
death.” He took the dog’s face between his hands and bent toward
him, nose to nose. “You’ve got to get well so I can get you out of
here, boy. Do you know how many hot dogs I’ve had to throw away
since you’ve been gone? And there’s not a soul around to eat the
steak bones.”

Janet was touched. Dan’s eyes had the
suspicious gleam of tears. She envied him. Just this afternoon on
her hospital rounds she had felt like leaning her head on one of
her sickest little patient’s pillow and crying.

She cleared her throat and stepped back from
the table. She felt as if one tear, one word too sympathetically
spoken, would release a flood of emotion that she might never dam
up again.

“He looks good, Dan. I think he’s going to be
fine.”

Dan turned and gave her a piercing look.

“Is that your professional opinion?”

The way he said it, clipped and cool, made
the question sound like an accusation.

“That’s what I am, Dan. A doctor.”

“Is it also who you are, Janet?”

He usually called her Doc. And he was usually
either playful or teasing or passionate. Now he was deadly serious.
The humor was gone from his face and his eyes were the cold blue of
winter lakes in an ice storm.

Suddenly it was too much—Harvey, medical
school, the hospital, and Dan turning her inside out and upside
down.

“You can tell Harvey goodbye for me.”

She left quickly, her high heels making sharp
staccato sounds on the tile floor. She got through the reception
room and into her car, then had to pull herself together before she
could start the car.

Somebody had obviously moved her apartment.
It took forever to get there, and by the time she did, she’d
developed a horrible a headache. Tucking her head against the rain,
she hurried into her apartment, then just stood there dripping
water on the rug. In a perfect world she’d have handled the
encounter with Dan Albany differently. There would be no kiss, no
sparring, just a neighborly hello. In a perfect world, she could
whistle, and the asprin would jump out of the bottle.

o0o

Dan felt lower than a worm. He stood,
watching Janet walk out the door. When it closed behind her, he
walked back to the table and patted the big dog’s head.

“My God, Harvey. I can’t believe I said that.
Did you see the look on her face?” He cuddled the dog some more,
taking comfort from the thumping tail and the soft whines. “Heck, I
used to think I knew more about making women happy than any man in
the world. Some expert I turned out to be.”

Dan stared into space for a while and tried
to think what to do.

He gave Harvey’s head an absentminded pat.
“Do you mind if I cut this visit short, old boy? I have some tall
apologizing to do.”

He left Harvey with Billie Jean Haskins and
drove across town. The lights were on inside Janet’s apartment. He
sat in his pickup for a while, drumming his fingers on the steering
wheel and whistling a tuneless song. Now that he was here, what in
the world was he going to say? He felt like a fool. Was he really
the same man who had only recently bragged about the joys of making
up?

Still whistling nervously between his teeth,
he got out of his truck and punched the dinky little buzzer, and
then in a fever of impatience he lifted his hand and banged loudly
on the door.

It swung open, and there was Janet, wearing a
soft-looking pink robe belted at the waist and a towel wrapped
around her hair. Backlit by the glow of her lamps, she looked like
something he’d imagined in one of his more erotic dreams.

“Won’t you come in?”

She was cool and formal, like a schoolteacher
talking to an unruly child.

He stepped inside and was immediately struck
by the differences between his home and hers. Her apartment was
immaculate. Most of the furniture looked second hand but if he
didn’t miss his guess, that was a Ming vase.

“I suppose you came to tell me about Harvey,”
she said. “Won’t you sit down?”

Everything in this small apartment looked
about the size of his niece’s doll house. He felt big and
awkward.

“Well, actually, no.” He cleared his throat
and looked around for a chair that might be big enough to support
his weight.

Janet was amused by his obvious discomfort.
Amused and touched. Standing there dripping on her cheap rug, his
wet curly hair plastered to his head, his face a study in wicked
innocence, Dan Albany tugged at her heartstrings. She decided to
put him out of his misery.

“Why don’t you take that big chair by the
fireplace? Don’t worry; it’s sturdy enough to hold an
elephant.”

“I’m hardly an elephant.” Laughing, he eased
himself into the chair. “But I am a jackass.”

“Always?” She smiled as she sat on the sofa
and tucked her legs under her.

“Not always. Only when I’m around you.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

Her smile got bigger. “I believe I’m hearing
an apology.”

“You are.” He stretched his long legs toward
the cold fireplace, made a careful tent of his fingers and propped
them under his chin. He gazed at her thoughtfully for a while. It
was a comfortable silence. Neither of them felt the need to fill it
with words.

Finally Dan spoke. “I’m not good at this, you
know.”

“That makes it all the more charming.”

“Charming?”

“Sometimes.”

He smiled at her. “I’d be willing to make a
jackass of myself again to hear you tell me that.”

“Surely other women have called you
charming.”

“No one who counts.”

There was a stillness in the room, a
breathless waiting, as if some long-anticipated event were about to
take place.

Janet felt a pleasant heat seep into her
bones. She leaned her head against the back of the sofa, never
taking her eyes off Dan’s.

“I truly am sorry, Janet.” His voice was as
soft and rich as a blues song, and just as mesmerizing. She let the
melody wash over her. “I had no right to judge you or your
profession. Each person feels pain and joy and... love
differently.”

She noticed his slight hesitation on the word
love. For some reason, it gave her pleasure.

“Thank you, Dan.”

“This is getting easier all the time. You
accept apologies very graciously.”

She gave him a wicked grin. “Would you like
to make up now?”

“I’m not sure I can be trusted.”

She chuckled. “Over a plate of cookies.”

“Ahh, Doc. How you disappoint me!” His
exuberant, teasing, good humor returned. “Cookies are second best,
but they will be an acceptable substitute.”

“Good. You wait right there.”

“Are they chocolate chip?”

“No. Peanut butter.”

“One of my favorites.”

“I’ll be right back.” Janet escaped to the
kitchen and leaned against the counter until she could regulate her
heartbeat. Dan wasn’t just a man sitting in her apartment: he was a
presence that filled it. A woman could get used to having a man
like that around, a big, vibrant man who wore life like a charm
around his neck.

She left her resting place at the kitchen
counter and took the bag of cookies out of the pantry. Just like
home-baked. That’s what Mr. Jed had said about them.

Suddenly she smiled. Why not? She arranged
the cookies on a platter and threw the bag into the garbage can.
Then she poured two big glasses of milk and went back into the
sitting room.

“Here you are, Dan. Freshly baked today.”

“You baked cookies?”

“Yes. This afternoon.” Her conscience twinged
only a little bit. She
had
baked cookies. Four batches.
All of them unspeakably bad. But Dan didn’t have to know that. She
was out to teach him a lesson.

He took a handful and settled back in his
chair with his glass of milk.

“Hmm, these are delicious.”

“I thought so, too.” She sipped her milk and
watched him over the rim of her glass.

“There’s nothing like home-baked cookies on a
rainy day to make a man feel good.”

“You’re very easy to please.”

He ate two more cookies. “Not every woman can
make cookies like this.”