Royal Seduction (8 page)

At the end of the evening, however, she'd made him understand a little better about the sufferings of overweight people. When she'd spoken about her treatment at the hands of her father—his callous name-calling, his withholding of affection—the vulnerability that emanated from her had disturbed him greatly. All he'd wanted to do was wrap his arms around her, hold her tight and make all the pain go away.

Catherine had scars from her past. And from the way she talked about her relationship with her father, she might very well be acquiring more scars even as an adult who had conquered her childhood weight problem.

Catherine had stirred his desire. When he'd first picked her up, her physical appearance had blown him away. And later, with her body pressed up tight against his at Midnight Blues, Riley's insides had writhed with wild, primal urges. He wanted her, there could be no doubt about that.

And then she'd bluntly insisted that he kiss her good-night… He grinned even now, thinking about it. He'd been so plagued with need that he feared he would lose all control. But he hadn't, and the only reason had been because she'd just finished looking so damned defenseless when she'd talked about her past. He'd been determined not to take advantage of her in that state. So when he'd kissed her, he'd been shooting for physical contact that would measure in the platonic range. But even the small, swift peck he'd given her had missed that mark. He'd spent the remainder of last night tossing and turning while his subconscious continued to conjure sensuous images of how easily that chaste kiss could have turned outrageously erotic, and once he'd finally dropped off to sleep, it had done just that in his dreams.

His whole body grew hot as he contemplated the subliminal night fantasy.

“Riley?”

Dr. David Graham was older than Mount Hood, and the man should have retired years ago. But his position as director and top dog—as he'd preferred to refer to himself—at Portland General Hospital had afforded him a great deal of clout and power, and a sort of celebrity in the city that he refused to give up. Everyone knew Dr. Graham would have to be carried from his prestigious office feet first.

“Yes?” Riley sat up straighter in his chair.

“I was asking your thoughts on the matter,” David said, obviously unhappy that he'd had to backtrack to bring Riley up to par. “You haven't said much at all.”

Riley had no idea exactly which matter he meant. Dr. Graham had been the one who'd forced Riley into this job, with promises of great things to come for him if he saved the clinic from ruin once the truth about Dr. Richie had been made public. However, the offer had also held overtones that smacked of blackmail, and Riley hated the fact that his past could be used against him.

“One of the concerns Dr. Jacobs and I talked about,” Faye Lassen supplied for him, “is the price tag of the project. It might be cost-effective for us to contract an outside laboratory for the testing.”

Riley cast her a grateful glance, but she seemed too focused on the goings-on of the meeting to notice.

David Graham looked appalled by Faye's suggestion. “And risk allowing this information to get out?”

Faye didn't wither under the director's frown. “You know contract labs are run under strict proprietary information laws, Dr. Graham. Everything about our experiments, from the substance to the results, will be safe.”

David's wiry brows set stubbornly. “I want to keep this in-house. And I've already agreed that Dr. Richie should head this up. Dr. Jacobs was right when he told me last week that NoWait is Richard Strong's baby. No one knows the stuff like he does.” Frustration evidently got the better of him and he thumped his hand on the table. “Why can't we find that man?”

A dropped pin would have clashed like a cymbal in the sudden silence.

The bristly director frowned down at the long agenda in front of him. “We still have a lot to discuss, and I see it's nearly lunchtime. But I think it's imperative that we nail everything down today. I don't want this to drag on with endless meetings. I want the testing started. Or at the very least, I want all of our ducks in a row so that when Dr. Richie returns he can get right on it.

“We'll order lunch in,” he announced. “Faye, can you take care of it?”

Automatically, Faye answered, “Certainly, Dr. Graham.”

“Have the food delivered right here.” To the group at large he said, “Let's take a twenty-minute break. That should give all of you time to reschedule your afternoon appointments, and then we can get right back on this, okay?”

He might have formed the words into a question, but he wasn't interested in anyone's opinion. He clearly expected his wants to be fully met.

Riley and Faye left the meeting together. Once they were out of hearing range, Riley said, “Thanks for that back there.”

Faye smiled. “No problem. You'd do it for me if the situation had been reversed.”

He nodded.

“By the way,” she quipped, “where were you? Or rather, where were your thoughts? You were positively lost.”

He wasn't sure how to answer the question. He'd taken Catherine out last night, shown her a bit of Portland. Their evening together had even been referred to as a date. But it wasn't as if this…thing between them was going anywhere.

Faye shoved her heavy glasses up on her nose. “Ah, so it's a woman.”

Female intuition never ceased to amaze him.

They turned a corner in the maze of the hospital and headed for the main lobby. “It's nothing,” he muttered. She shot him a dubious look, and he asserted, “Really.”

They walked in silence for several seconds.

Faye said, “What do you think about the way Dr. Graham is pushing to get this testing started?”

“I don't like it. If it's rushed, mistakes are bound to be made.”

The expression on her face told him she agreed.

“If we're going to do the testing here,” he continued, “we should get our best toxicologists on it. We should leave this to the experts. And Dr. Richie really should be involved even if it's only as a consultant.”

She nodded.

Sunlight streamed though the glass-enclosed lobby. Faye's steps slowed.

“I have to run downstairs to the cafeteria to order sandwiches.”

Riley gritted his teeth. “That shouldn't be your job.”

Faye waved away his concern. “I don't mind. And someone's got to do it.”

He caught and held her gaze. “Someday,” he said, “you're going to get full credit for all you do.”

Her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, and Riley silently surmised that she'd be a very attractive woman if she'd loosen those tight fasteners from her hair and unmask herself from those enormous eyeglasses.

But he quickly curbed the thought. Faye Lassen was an excellent doctor and an inordinately organized and efficient administrator. That in itself should be enough.

He offered, “Do you want me to get the receptionists started on rearranging your afternoon appointments?”

“No, thanks. I'll call them on my cell on my way to the cafeteria.”

“Okay, then, I'll see you back in the meeting in twenty.”

They separated, and then Riley turned back and called out to her. “Do you have any idea which session Catherine Houston was going to attend this morning? I was supposed to have lunch with her today, so I need to cancel.”

Faye's face brightened. “Is Catherine the woman who had you so engrossed all morning?”

His mouth drew into a line of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she said, chuckling. “It's none of my business. It's just that she and I have become kind of chatty. She's a sweet person, Riley. We're going out this weekend, as a matter of fact. She asked me to show her the best shops.

“Anyway,” Faye continued, “Catherine told me she was looking for a fun workshop. So she chose that popular one on self-control. Um…” Faye thought a second. “Oh, yes. Mind over Manicotti, it's called. I'm sure that's where you'll find her.”

“Thanks.”

Riley walked out into the sunshine, hardly aware of the glorious day.

So Catherine had chosen to attend a session on self-con
trol, he thought. Funny, last night at the restaurant she'd chosen a simple salad and a meatless pasta sauce. She hardly seemed to have a lack of self-control. Well, where food had been concerned, she hadn't. However, if flirtation were chocolate syrup, she'd have drowned in the rich confection last night. Her verbal play had been enticing, to say the least.

She'd made him feel some powerful physical urges. She'd stirred a hunger in him. A hunger so deep it had been awesome to experience, and nearly impossible to quell. If he hadn't witnessed those extremely vulnerable moments—the raw pain that had cast shadows in her blue eyes when she'd talked about her father and her lonely childhood—he might have unleashed his craving for her. He just might have satiated his need.

When he'd noticed that the champagne had made her tipsy, he'd suggested she should sleep it off.

I'd
love
to go to bed.

Her unashamedly sexual response had blown him away. The mere thought of her innuendo made heat coil down deep in his core even now. Sweat prickled his brow and he gulped in a lungful of fresh, mind-clearing air. Only then did an errant thought sough through his head.

Upper crust.
Faye had clued him in even before he'd met Catherine. And Catherine had cemented the idea herself last night at the gardens.

Perfume from France, indeed. Made just for her. Riley shook his head as he pulled open the front door of the clinic.

Catherine Houston was a blue blood.

Her name alone made his thinking go hazy. She was a blue blood who smelled like sun-warmed jasmine…who had creamy skin, golden hair and high, rounded—

Riley gave himself a mental shake. He'd had his share
of humiliation from the likes of the well-to-do to last him a lifetime and beyond.

Like a coiled snake, the vile memory hissed and bared its teeth at him. He'd vowed that he'd never put himself in a situation where it might be repeated.

Maybe canceling lunch was a good thing. Staying away from Catherine would be for the best.

After checking with reception to find out which conference room was being used for the Mind over Manicotti workshop, Riley stalked down the hall and let himself into the room as quietly as possible. He stood in the back to let his eyes adjust to the soft lights.

The speaker at the podium was a jovial woman whose humorous personal insights never failed to make the workshop attendees relax and enjoy themselves in the lighthearted session.

Riley spotted Catherine in the crowd immediately. He hadn't been lying last night when he'd told her there was nothing ordinary about her. Her long, wavy hair glowed flaxen even in the low lighting.

Luckily, there was an empty seat right next to her. He headed down the aisle.

“Catherine,” he whispered as he sat.

The smile she offered him lightened his heart. Hell, it brightened his whole damned day!

Down, boy! he ordered his thoughts. And other parts of his libido.

“Hi,” she whispered back, her sweet, sexy accent flowing over him like warm honey.

Riley firmed his jaw. “I have to cancel lunch,” he said. “I'll be stuck in a meeting all afternoon.”

He should probably apologize. However, he didn't make a habit of dishonesty merely for politeness' sake.

Her beautiful face went blank. Although she struggled to hide her emotions, he couldn't miss her disappointment.

Guilt poked at him like a sharp stick, but he refused to allow it to force him to say something he didn't mean. Missing this lunch date was a good thing; he had to keep repeating that to himself.

When it looked as though disillusionment had begun to win in her battle of wills, Riley couldn't take it any longer. “I just wanted to let you know,” he whispered. Without allowing himself to think further, he pushed himself up from the chair and headed toward the door at the back of the conference room.

T
he Pearl District was an area of the city filled with block after block of bistros, boutiques, numerous galleries, two art schools, salons, florists and a host of other shops. It was a place where old met new. Where abandoned manufacturing plants had been transformed into wine shops, bakeries and much-sought-after loft apartments. And Catherine was thoroughly charmed by it all.

“This place used to be nothing but old warehouses and weedy, littered lots,” Faye told Catherine.

The two of them bustled down the street as only women on a shopping mission could, various bags swinging on their arms.

Faye continued, “And who would ever believe that people would want to live overlooking the rail yard? But Old Union Station now has a great restaurant and a piano bar. The Pearl is a thriving community.”

“The city's done a great job renovating the area, that's for sure.” Catherine looked for traffic and then stepped out into the street.

“Careful of those,” Faye warned, pointing to the new streetcar tracks embedded in the roadway. “Don't get your heel caught.”

The boutique they entered had some lovely clothing on display.

Faye scanned one particular dress from top to bottom, but rather than give her opinion of the fabric or the style of the dress, she casually asked, “So what's happening between you and Riley?”

The urge to roll her eyes in response was nearly overwhelming, but Catherine's years of deportment training forced her to overcome it. “Not a thing, it seems. I got him to take me out. Once. And we had a great time. Or so I thought.” Lifting the hem of the dress on display, she studied the workmanship. “Underneath that grumpiness I found a nice guy.”

She remembered the excruciatingly sweet kiss they'd shared. Murmuring, she wickedly corrected, “A yummy guy, actually.”

Faye laughed.

Catherine let the fabric fall from her fingers. “But then he canceled our lunch date the next day. And I suspect he's been avoiding me ever since.”

Faye chose a dress from the rack. “I think I'll try this on.”

Catherine shook her head. “Not that one.” She took the dress and hung it back on the rack. “Everything you wear is tan or cream or brown. You need some color, Faye.” She picked a shirtdress in a rich shade of burnt orange, just perfect for September.

“I can't,” Faye exclaimed.

“Of course, you can. It'll look great.”

Faye dug in her heels, and Catherine laughed, giving her a little shove. “The least you can do is try it on.” She snatched up a few more colorful items in the same size. “And it won't hurt to try these, too.”

They laughed like school chums all the way back to the dressing room.

From behind the curtain, Faye continued with the important part of their ongoing conversation, “If it's any consolation, Riley really was stuck in an all-day meeting. I was stuck there with him.”

Catherine held a fuzzy pink top in place under her chin and looked at her reflection while waiting for her friend. “That doesn't explain why he's been sidestepping me at every turn. Makes a girl feel unwanted.”

Faye stepped out of the cubical, and Catherine gasped.

“It's perfect,” she told Faye, excitement energizing her tone. “That color makes your eyes just pop.”

“I don't know—”

“Don't be ridiculous! It's perfect.” Catherine edged around until she was between Faye and the mirror. She hoped she wasn't being too intrusive, but she asked, “Faye, would you take your hair down? I'd like to see how long it is.”

The woman's blue eyes darted toward the floor.

“Oh, don't go all shy on me now.” Catherine plunked a playful fist on her hip. “I've bared my soul about Riley and how he's made me feel. All I've asked you to do is try on a few clothes and take the pins from your hair.”

“Okay, okay.” Faye removed the clip securing her twist and shook her head, releasing her brown tresses.

“Wow! It's so shiny.” Boldly, Catherine reached up and
slid Faye's glasses off her face. “Have you ever thought about contacts? These glasses hide your lovely eyes.”

Faye flinched, but she allowed her eyeglasses to be removed.

Catherine blinked. “Faye, you're beautiful.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Oh, but you are.” Catherine circled her friend. “And the cut of that dress!” She let out a low whistle. “Really accentuates the back stairwell, if you know what I mean. I vote that you buy it.”

“I can't buy this,” Faye said. “It would be a waste of money. I don't wear clothes like this to work.” Her mouth twisted ironically. “And I barely have time to go home and feed my cat, let alone find time for a life outside the clinic.”

That stopped Catherine in her tracks. “But why?” Faye was only six years older than she; surely she had a whole life in front of her.

Uneasiness had Faye's body tensing. Catherine knew immediately that she'd probed into something much too personal.

She was about to apologize and back her way out of the subject when Faye softly said, “It's my own fault.”

A perceptible heaviness had the air in the small dressing-room area feeling thick. Catherine waited to see if Faye intended to tell her more.

“I've been working on getting the health clinic off the ground for years,” she told Catherine. “People don't realize how much planning goes into such a business endeavor.”

“You helped with the inception of the idea?” Bewilderment knit Catherine's brow. “But I read the newspaper accounts. Your name wasn't mentioned once. It was,
um—” she tapped her chin, trying to remember “—a Dr. David—”

“Graham.” A storm churned in Faye's blue eyes. “Yeah, once the clinic received approval and the plans were drawn up, he sort of took over as spokesperson. Whenever the public was involved, anyway. But I was the one in the trenches.”

“How unfair.”

Faye shrugged. “All that mattered to me was to see my idea come to fruition. Anyway, back to why I don't have a life. Early on, I hawked my proposal to anyone who would listen. First, I had to convince the hospital administrators and the Board of Directors. And once they'd approved the idea, I had to meet with city officials and persuade them that the clinic would be a good thing for Portland.

“And after everyone gave the go ahead,” she continued, “I was up to my neck in meetings with architects and engineers, building permit people and Board of Variance committee members, contractors and building inspectors.”

She sighed, her shoulders rounding. “I became like a madwoman intent on seeing my vision fulfilled.” Faye paused, moistened her lips, concentrated on her reflection in the mirror as she softly revealed, “It cost me my marriage.”

“Oh, honey.” Catherine placed a comforting hand on her friend's arm. “I'm sorry.”

Faye's spine straightened and her chin tipped up courageously. “It was my own fault. I didn't give my husband the time he needed. The time he deserved. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late.”

Giving her arm a squeeze, Catherine murmured, “I'm sorry about the divorce.”

“I'm not divorced. Yet. We're separated. But I get sick to my stomach every day when I collect the mail, sure that the papers are going to arrive.”

There was no proper response she could think of to make, so Catherine simply remained silent.

Absently, Faye smoothed the cuff of the shirtdress. “Anyway, Mark had left, so I bent my head into the wind and kept working on getting the clinic built. It was difficult. Since the construction industry is a male-dominated world, I made myself as professional as possible.” She turned to face Catherine. “The result is the no-frills, no-fun, take-no-guff woman standing before you.” She attempted to smile, but the result was kind of sad.

Catherine's thoughts started whirling as she tried to think of a positive spin to place on all that Faye had said. Finally, she blurted, “So it's all a mask. The real you is hiding in there somewhere.”

Quietly, but firmly, Faye said, “And that's exactly how I want to keep it.”

Confusion knitted Catherine's brow. “But why, Faye? You're a beautiful—”

“I'm not,” Faye insisted, cutting Catherine off. “I don't like the real me, to tell you the truth. The real me got her priorities all screwed up. She messed up everything and now she just has to live with what she's done.”

Empathy made Catherine's heart go all warm and fuzzy. “You're being way too hard on yourself. The clinic is a wonderful place. And you were the one who made it happen.” She shifted, her head tilting a fraction. “Faye, since the clinic was your baby, why aren't you running the place?”

“Oh, that was David Graham's idea,” she said. “He felt we needed someone flashy in the job. That's why he had
me recruit Dr. Richie. And I was made second in command.”

Catherine could tell the subject was a bone sliver that stuck in Faye's craw.

“But now he's gone,” Catherine couldn't help but point out, “and Riley's in the position. Does Dr. Graham even know you're interested in the job?”

“I'm a woman, Catherine. Dr. Graham hasn't promoted a woman to a top managerial position in, well, ever.” Faye raised an agitated hand to her hair, fidgeting. “It doesn't really matter. All that matters is that the clinic is open to the public.”

Catherine opened her mouth to respond, but Faye exclaimed, “What am I saying? Of course, it matters. Running the clinic should have been my job.”

Meeting Catherine's gaze in the mirror, Faye's eyes went wide. “I'm sorry. That was a terrible outburst.”

“Don't apologize. I'm just happy you feel safe enough to confide in me.”

“I like Riley,” Faye rushed to say. “And he's doing a great job at the clinic. It was actually good of him to accept it since things are such a shambles.”

“Yes. But he's not really happy there.”

Evidently, Faye hadn't noticed. “Really? Wow, what I wouldn't give to become director.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “But Dr. Graham won't go for it.”

“Surely he knows of all you've done up to this point.”

“I'm not sure he does. Although I have no idea why he wouldn't. He's got this way of overlooking me.”

“Well, we've got to change that,” Catherine announced. “And wearing this dress to work on Monday—with your hair down—is just the start!”

“I don't know that I want to be noticed for my physical
attributes, Catherine.” Faye attempted to take a backward step. “I want to be respected for my brains and my ability.”

“As you said, you're a woman. And as a woman you have to use your brains and your ability and whatever attributes you can to get ahead.”

“But—”

“No buts. Get in there and try on those other outfits.”

For several long seconds, Catherine feared her friend would refuse. But suddenly Faye's beautiful eyes lit with excitement, and something else, too. Determination? And with a new purpose, she spun on her toe and disappeared into the cubicle.

Not too much later they were back out on the sidewalk with several new shopping bags in tow.

“Thanks, Catherine,” Faye said, her cheeks flushed with marvelous color. “That was so much fun.”

“The fun isn't over. We passed a salon.” She indicated up the street with a jerk of her head. “Let's go have a facial—my treat. And then I want to show you how a little makeup can set off your best features.”

Faye admitted, “I've never been big on makeup. Never really had the time.”

“If you want to be noticed—and you deserve to be, Faye—then you'll start taking the time. Besides, you don't need a lot,” Catherine assured her. “It's all in the technique. And believe me when I tell you that there was a time when technique was all I had going for me.”

“Oh, stop.” Faye smiled, and when Catherine didn't return it, she looked askance. “You are kidding, right?”

Catherine shook her head. “I was a real ugly duckling all through my teens. But I like to think I've conquered most of my problems.”

“But…I don't understand. You're gorgeous.”

Laughter was Catherine's best defense against her dark past. “Yeah, well, I'm obviously not gorgeous enough for some people.”

Luckily, Faye was astute enough to pick up the particular person to whom Catherine was alluding.

“Listen, I shouldn't say too much. Riley is my boss and all that.” Faye's voice lowered as she said, “But I think we should talk about…you know…what you can do.”

“I wish I knew what to do. I can't even seem to capture his attention. Mmm, maybe if I walked into the clinic stark naked…?”

Faye laughed. “No, please. We don't want the police involved. But what I was thinking was a lure of some kind.”

Intrigued, Catherine slowed her steps, not wanting to miss a single word.

“I know that Riley's a sports buff,” Faye continued. “I see him reading the sports pages. He particularly likes basketball, but the Trail Blazers don't start playing until the end of October.” Faye paused, then said, “How about tickets to an air show? There's one going on just outside Portland this weekend. Airplanes are big and loud. And these do fancy spins and loops and other death-defying stunts.”

“I agree that would be very much a man-thing.”

“And they sell hot dogs, too.”

“Hot dogs? You mean like sausages?”

“Sort of. They're a foot long, served on warm toasted buns and smothered in mustard.”

“And American men like these foot-long hot dogs?”

“They love them!”

“So, trick planes and hot dogs? Why, you wicked woman.” Catherine chuckled. “I think I love you! How and where do I get tickets?”

A smile flashed across Faye's face. “We can ride out to Hillsboro Airport this afternoon and pick up tickets for tomorrow's show.”