Love In Bloom Page 3

  Clay grinned. "Forget the business...now the name could be easier--"

  Trish laughed. "Your sense of humor is much more developed this time around."

  "Without it, I couldn't have survived." Clay swung Trish's swivel chair in a circle until she giggled and put her hand on his arm to stop him. He held the arm of the chair. "Enough of this serious stuff. I'm going horseback riding this weekend. Want to come along?"

  Her brown eyes gleamed with mischief. "What if I make you a deal?"

  Clay let go of the chair and stood up straight. "Uh-oh. I usually get the short end of your deals."

  She made a face at him. "I'll go horseback riding with you Saturday if you come to Mom and Dad's for a barbecue on Sunday."

  "That's a steep trade-off."

  "Mom misses you."

  "I know. I talked to her last week."

  "And you can put up with Dad for a couple of hours."

  "That's your opinion."

  "I'd really like you to be there Clay."

  He stopped treating her request lightly. "What's happening?"

  Her expression became coy. "If I tell you that, it won't be a surprise."

  "Trish..."

  "Just say you'll come. It's important to me."

  After all she'd done for him, he couldn't say no.

  ****

  Paige pulled her black bag from her car Thursday evening after paying a visit to one of Doc's elderly patients who couldn't drive. She was supposed to take off Thursdays, but she used them to catch up. Glancing at the red SUV sitting in Doc's drive, she realized she'd seen it before, parked in Clay's gravel lane. She listened but didn't hear the sound of the mower or hedge trimmer.

  She let herself in the front door. The wooden screen door slapped behind her. "Doc?"

  No answer.

  Going into the kitchen, she peered out the side window and saw the door to the storage shed was open. Investigating, she found Clay on the floor, sitting to the side of the mower.

  Doc handed him a wrench. Seeing Paige in the doorway, he smiled. "Hi, there. The mower's been stalling, so Clay wanted to check it out."

  Clay shifted his body toward her. His perusal made her feel...naked. Why? Men had looked at her before. But Clay was different; her reactions to him confused her. She certainly wasn't wearing anything provocative. Her sage-green slacks and beige blouse were not fashion's finest. She wore a lab coat over her clothes most of the day, so what was underneath didn't much matter--as long as it was clean, pressed, and conservative. Yet Clay seemed to see deeper than clothes, maybe even deeper than skin.

  "Busy day?" he asked easily, his deep husky voice vibrating through her, as he turned back to the mower and tightened a bolt.

  "Aren't they all?" Clay's presence in the shed was disconcerting. To feel as if she were on solid ground, she said to Doc, "I had three cases of poison ivy. Kids can't wait to put on shorts and go exploring."

  "The lake was crowded last Sunday with boaters and fishermen. Adults are just as eager to get outdoors," Clay commented, his attention on the machine before him.

  "Clay canoes on the lake," Doc explained.

  "Early evening's best. When all the activity's calmed down."

  He canoed, danced, did physical labor. Whatever had happened in the accident, he seemed to be completely recovered now. But then he'd mentioned scars that weren't visible. How deep did they run? "Canoeing on the lake sounds nice."

  Clay glanced at her. "You can come out with me some evening if you'd like."

  Alone. With Clay Reynolds. On a lake at dusk. A shiver ran up Paige's back. Before she thought better of it, she responded, "I'd like that." She studied Clay's hands. They were large. She could still remember their warm grip when he'd helped her away from her car, as he held her when they danced. She could imagine him in a canoe, his strong arms paddling.

  Clay asked, "When's your day off?"

  "I don't have office hours Thursdays or Sundays, but I usually go to the hospital and see my patients in the morning. Then I'm free."

  Doc shut the toolbox. "I thawed out those chicken breasts like you said. Want me to start the grill?"

  "Sure. Clay, have you had supper yet?"

  He slid back a foot from the mower. "No. I'm going to grab something on the way home."

  "You're welcome to stay."

  "Believe me, son, it'll be good for you. Paige keeps me on a strict diet."

  Clay climbed to his feet and wiped his hands on the towel on the mower's seat. "I don't want to impose."

  "It's no imposition." As she crossed to the door, her heart sped up at the idea of spending more time with Clay. "You'll keep Doc and me from talking shop."

  Clay watched through the doorway as Paige's slim legs took her to the house. "Does she ever slow down?"

  "Afraid to is my guess."

  That gave Clay pause. "Afraid of what?"

  "Afraid of what she might find out about herself if she does."

  ****

  Clay stood inside the sliding glass doors in the dining room. The cedar deck extended from the dining room on stilts. The ground underneath was rocky and uneven. Doc had decided not to landscape it, to keep it natural. The steps descended to an uneven packed-earth walk that led into the woods.

  Paige stood at the grill against the back of the house and basted the chicken. Clay knew he shouldn't have invited her to go for a canoe ride on the lake, but it would have been rude not to. He could picture too easily how she'd look with the moon on her hair and the intimacy of darkness settling around them, an intimacy that opened the door to exchanging confidences. She'd tell him why she'd come to Langley; he'd explain...

  No. If he took her for a canoe ride, it would be in broad daylight with other boaters around. He wasn't trading secrets with Paige Conrad.

  He opened the sliding door and stepped outside. "Ron Murphy called and said the committee meeting is eight o'clock next Tuesday. You going?" Clay asked.

  Paige glanced at him, then back down at the grill. "I said I would."

  He bet she was the type of person who always followed through on her promises. "Where did you grow up? You have a unique accent."

  She smiled. "I never noticed."

  He smiled back. Some of her words were enunciated too precisely, sometimes the rhythm seemed unusual. "How long have you been away from the States?"

  "Most of my life. Half anyway."

  "Where have you lived?"

  "We lived in western Pennsylvania till I was three. Then we went to Central America. When I was ten, my parents sent me to a boarding school in England. At sixteen I went to be with them to Africa. I came back here for college and med school in Ohio. When I finished my residency, I joined my mother in Africa again."

  She'd given him her rundown dispassionately, as if she'd had to do it often. "Just your mother?"

  She hesitated, and her eyes clouded. "My father died when I was doing my residency."

  Now that was a subject she wasn't dispassionate about. Her sadness touched him. "I'm sorry."

  Paige turned away. After a moment, she asked, "What about you? Is your family here?"

  "In Reisterstown. I moved here seven years ago when I heard the store I now own was up for sale."

  "Do you see them often?"

  "My sister, I do."

  "I always wondered what a normal family would be like."

  The wistfulness in her voice intrigued him. "What do you call normal?"

  She stared into the treetops as if she could envision it exactly. "Living in one place for years, building friendships, going to a regular school."

  He wished he could remember if his childhood had been "normal." His family said it had. "You were lonely?" He was no stranger to loneliness and recognized it when he heard it.

  "Holidays were the hardest," she confessed. "Especially in boarding school. The other girls went home. I couldn't contact Mom and Dad because they moved from village to village."

  Clay could see the lonely little girl who had no place to
go and wondered why the hell she didn't resent her parents. He didn't hear resentment. "Didn't your parents worry about you, try to contact you?"

  "Oh, they sent boxes of presents they ordered. And wrote constantly. It wasn't so bad." She flipped the chicken to the platter.

  When Clay reached for it to put it on the table, so did she. Their fingers touched. Their eyes met.

  After a moment, she pulled back. He watched as her face pinkened, knowing he'd like to stroke her cheek and hold her in his arms. She had a freshness, a naturalness that connected with basic needs inside him. But he knew better than to act on them with this woman.

  Paige set the dish on the table. Her voice was low and reminded him of long nights, a starry sky, his king-size bed. "If you'll set the table, I'll get the rice and the salad."

  He dispelled the image of touching her skin, kissing her. "Will do."

  Paige went inside. Clay took a deep breath.

  When she returned, Doc accompanied her. She put the food on the table and as they ate, Doc guided the conversation. Clay observed Paige and wondered again about her reason for coming to Langley. Any number of doctors could have covered for Doc.

  Doc winked as he popped a strawberry into his mouth. "Beats lemon meringue pie, doesn't it?"

  Clay laughed. Paige smiled and her gaze met his. They shared a look that said they both cared enough about Doc to make him toe the line.

  Paige gathered the plates and silverware. Clay helped and stowed the leftovers in the refrigerator. "You're spoiling Doc, you know."

  "He deserves to be spoiled. He's a wonderful man."

  "I remember what he used to eat. Hot dogs, steak, potatoes and gravy."

  She chuckled. "He turned up his nose at the first few suppers I put on the table, but he's getting used to low-fat meals."

  "Supper was very good."

  "Thanks." She added soap to the dishwasher and closed the door. "I like to cook. I'm getting used to the microwave again and all the conveniences I haven't had for a while." She pushed the start cycle. "I usually go for a walk after supper. Would you like to join me?"

  He knew every moment he spent with Paige he was getting in deeper. But being with her seemed preferable to not being with her. "Sure."

  When they went back outside, Doc was settled in an old wooden rocking chair. "Can't beat May nights."

  "Did you walk today?" Paige asked.

  "Twice. Almost a mile at a time, now. It felt good."

  "Then you don't want to come with us for another one?"

  "No. I'll wait for the moon to come up."

  Paige and Clay descended the wooden steps and walked along the path until they entered a grove of tall maples, poplars and evergreens. The packed earth muffled their footsteps. They hadn't gone far when sunlight showered them again.

  Clay pointed across the clearing. "Look at that."

  The sunshine played over a colorful display of violets, buttercups, and columbines. Paige stepped closer to Clay to peer around the tree trunks. "I've never seen a planned garden look more beautiful. I wish the one I planted out front could capture that free feeling."

  Clay leaned against a tree trunk. "That's what I like about wild flowers. They're free, unique, and grow wherever they fall. They survive with their surroundings."

  She studied him. "Are you like that?"

  "I try to be." They were standing close. Too close. He could see a faint spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  She asked softly, "Clay, what happened to you in the rock- climbing accident?"

  It was strange. He almost felt that if he could tell anyone, he could tell her. "I talk about it as little as possible, Paige."

  "Why?"

  He decided to be honest with her. "It's safer that way. The less people know about you, the less they can hurt you."

  "I've found people usually want to help, not hurt."

  Paige saw the world through her own eyes--nurturing, caring eyes, and she thought everybody else had the same vision. "In a town the size of Langley, everyone knows everyone else's business. It's not unusual. That's just the way it works. People talk. Stories stretch. Rumors fly. Tell one person, you tell the town."

  She took a step back. "And you think I'd...gossip about you?"

  She looked shocked he'd even think such a thing. He gently clasped her shoulder. "No. Not intentionally."

  The ends of her hair teased his hand as she tipped up her chin. "I know what confidentiality is all about, Clay."

  "I know you do." He removed his hand because he was tempted to do more than hold her shoulder. Her lips were so perfect.

  He looked over at the clearing of wild flowers and the sun's rays fading behind the trees. "It'll be getting dark soon."

  She accepted his change of subject and gave him a sweet, soul-healing smile. "We wouldn't want to get caught in the woods after dark."

  He thought of holding her close through a long dark night, woods or no woods. The wall he'd carefully constructed to keep his heart safe was starting to crack. It was an unsettling feeling. "No, we wouldn't. We might get lost."

  He moved away from the tree and waited for her to join him on the path. They'd finish their walk and he'd go home, his comfortable life still intact.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ron Murphy held the meeting for the July Fourth celebration at his house in downtown Langley. Clay surveyed the group in the living room and realized he was a nodding acquaintance of most of the people there.

  Then there was Paige. Standing in the woods, he'd wanted to take her in his arms, lay her down on the bed of wild flowers and...and nothing. Paige Conrad pounded on his defenses with both fists. She didn't even know it. That's how he knew she was vulnerable. That's why he knew he had to be careful.

  Paige sat with a laptop on the table. She wore no makeup and he liked the natural look. Her jeans told him she'd stopped at Doc's to change before the meeting. Her pink sweater showed her graceful neck to advantage. He'd never seen skin so perfect--like one of Doc's roses.

  With determined purpose, Clay focused on what Ron was saying.

  "So Martha and Rita are taking care of getting food vendors. John and Tom will make arrangements for the kiddie rides. Lou and Betsy will find flags and memorabilia and work on the decorations. Now, we need something...spectacular to get everyone's attention and make some money at the same time.

  Middle-aged and plump Martha suggested, "We could get an adult Ferris wheel to go along with the children's rides."

  Her husband, Tom, disagreed. "That will only bring in peanuts. We need a show. What about flame throwers? Or a rodeo rider doing stunts on a horse?"

  Clay leaned forward. "A hot-air balloon would work. It would be unusual and still make money."

  "I'll say!"

  "Great idea."

  "Way to go, Clay."

  "If it's not too expensive," a dissenting voice added.

  Ron stretched his legs out in front of him. "People will pay for something different. I heard of a guy in Lineboro who pilots one. A new resort south of here used him when they had their grand opening. I'll get his name." He turned to Clay. "You might have to drive over, see what he's got, and make arrangements."

  "That's no problem."

  Ron turned his attention to Paige. "Well, Dr. Conrad, that leaves one area open for you. How are you at planning games?"

  "Games?"

  "Yeah, you know--egg toss, relay races, that sort of thing. Think you could plan the afternoon for us?"

  Paige seemed out of her depth. Clay wondered if games hadn't been a part of her life. He supposed that was possible. She asked, "Do you have examples of what you've done in the past?"

  "Naw. No one keeps notes on this stuff. But if you talk to people, they'll tell you."

  "I can help her out with that," Clay offered.

  "Great! So I'll put you two on the games committee."

  "I didn't mean--"

  Ron cut Clay off. "And I'll take care of the fireworks. Sounds like a whopper of
a day to me. Okay, everybody, that's it. There's drinks and chips on the back porch."

  Paige looked at Clay; Clay looked at Paige. They both laughed. Clay said, "It looks like we have a job to do. I'm tied up Thursday. Will you be free Sunday afternoon?"

  "Around one."

  "Do you want to ride with me to Lineboro? We can discuss games. Maybe when we get back we can take that canoe ride."

  "If it's not too late."

  "If it's not too late. I know you doctors need your beauty sleep."

  She blushed and pushed her hair behind her ear.

  He frowned. She acted as if she wasn't used to receiving compliments. "How old are you, Paige?"

  Her blue eyes widened. "Twenty-nine. Why?"

  "Just curious."

  He stood. She rose, too. "Don't you know a woman's age is a secret?"

  As she came around the coffee table, he could smell perfume and delicate woman.

  "Before we go out with the others," she said, changing the subject, "I wanted to tell you I found a counselor for Ben."

  Clay breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. "That's great. I know that's the right way to go."

  "I hope so."

  She seemed unsure, as if he would still be better suited to talking to the teenager than a professional. Clay couldn't understand why. He was relieved she'd found help for the boy. He was also relieved there was a group of people socializing on the back porch. As much as he'd like to be alone with Paige, he knew a group atmosphere would be safer.

  Now, Sunday...

  ****

  Friday afternoon, Paige settled in the chair behind her desk and read Ben Hockensmith's chart, though she didn't need to. She had it memorized. He'd seen his counselor yesterday. Paige had talked to her this morning and wasn't encouraged by what she'd heard. "Physically, you're doing superbly, Ben. Your grip strength in your left hand is normal."

  Ben's brown eyes were defiant. "But my leg isn't. And it's never going to be, is it, Dr. Conrad?"

  The car had hit Ben on the left, broken his left arm, but had done much more damage to the left leg. The surgeon had inserted a pin. "I can't tell you what will happen. A large part depends on you. Look how far you've come. By the end of the summer, you probably won't need the cane."