Unlocking the Surgeon's Heart. Jessica Matthews
the corner filled with playthings that a canine would love. Resting on his haunches, he rummaged through a pile of half-chewed dog bones, several balls and Frisbees, a short rope, and an assortment of stuffed animals before he struck bottom.
“No shoes in here,” he called out as he rose.
“Thanks for checking,” she answered back.
His watch chimed the quarter-hour. “We really should be going.”
“Just a few more minutes. I promise.”
Because he had so little time for leisure reading, the books on her shelves drew his gaze next, and he took a few minutes to glance at the titles. Most of her paperbacks were romances with a few adventure novels sprinkled among them. He also ran across several cookbooks and a few exercise DVDs, but tucked among them were a few books that piqued his curiosity.
Chicken Soup for the Survivor’s Soul. Life after Cancer. Foods that Fight. Staying Fit after Chemo.
Before he could wonder what had caused her interest in such topics, she returned to the living room, wearing a pair of strappy red high-heeled sandals that emphasized her shapely legs. “Sorry about the wait,” she said breathlessly. “I found them in my laundry basket.”
“Great. By the way, I ran across a few things you might have lost.” He plucked his pile of treasures off the coffee table and handed them to her.
Her face turned a lovely shade of pink as she eyed the scraps on top. “I wondered where those had gone,” she said, her chuckle quite pleasing to his ears. “I’ve blamed the washing machine all this time. Ria, you’ve been a bad girl.”
Ria sank onto her belly and placed her head on her front paws.
“But I love you anyway,” she said as she crouched down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Now, behave while we’re gone.”
As she rubbed, Ria responded with a contented sigh and a blissful doggy smile before rolling over onto her back for a tummy rub. Obviously Christy had The Touch, and immediately he wanted to feel her fingers working their magic on his sore spots.
He tore his gaze from the sight, reminding himself that Christy wasn’t his type even if she could engender all sorts of unrealistic thoughts. She was too perky, too lively, and too everything. Women like her weren’t content with the mundane aspects of living. They wanted the constant stimulation of social activities, four-star shopping and exotic vacations. Staying home for popcorn and a movie would be considered slumming.
“Are we ready now?” he asked, conscious of his peevish tone when all he wanted to do was shake these wicked mental pictures out of his head.
She straightened. “Of course. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
To his regret, the warm note in her voice had disappeared and he wondered what it would take to bring it back. If he walked into his brother’s house with icicles hanging in the air, his sister-in-law would read him the Riot Act. He didn’t know why Gail was so protective of Christy, but she was.
Minutes later, Linc found himself on the sidewalk, accompanying her to his car. He couldn’t explain why he found the need to rest his hand on the small of her back—it wasn’t as if the sidewalk was icy and he intended to keep her from falling—but he did.
That small, politely ingrained action made him wonder if his plan to concentrate on his career should be revised. He was thirty-seven now and he had to admit that at times he grew weary of his own company. To make matters worse, lately, being around Gail and Ty made him realize just how much he was missing.
Now was one of those moments. Especially when he caught a glimpse of a well-formed knee and a trim ankle as he helped her into the passenger seat.
He might be physically attracted to Christy Michaels, but their temperaments made them polar opposites. He had enough drama in his life and when he came home at night, he wanted someone to share his quiet and peaceable existence, not someone who thrived on being the life of a party.
Opposites or not, though, he wasn’t going to pass the drive in chilly silence. Given how much she obviously loved Ria, he knew exactly how to break the ice.
“After seeing your dog, I’m wondering if I should get one,” he commented as he slid behind the wheel.
“They’re a lot of work, but the companionship is worth every minute,” she said. “Did you have a breed in mind?”
“No, but I’d lean toward a collie or a retriever. We had one when I was a kid. Skipper died of old age, but we didn’t replace him.”
She nodded. “I can understand that. Bringing a new pet home can make you feel guilty—like you’re replacing them as easily as you replace a worn-out pair of socks—when in actuality, you aren’t replacing them because they’ll always be a part of you, no matter what.”
Spoken like a true dog lover, he thought, impressed by her insight.
“Why don’t you have a dog now?” she asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? A pet doesn’t fit into my lifestyle.”
“Oh.” He heard a wealth of emotion—mainly disappointment—in the way she uttered that one word. It was almost as if she found him lacking when she should have been impressed by his thoughtfulness. After all, the poor mutt would be the one suffering from inattention.
“You’re probably right,” she added politely. “They do have a habit of ruining the best-laid plans.”
The conversation flagged, and he hated that the relaxed mood between them had become strained once again. Wasn’t there anything they could discuss without venturing into rocky territory? If he didn’t do something to lighten the tension, they’d face an uncomfortable evening ahead of them. He’d already promised Gail he’d be on his best behavior, so he had to repair the damage before they arrived.
Recalling another subject in which she’d seemed quite passionate, he asked, “Any word on the festival fundraiser idea?”
“According to Denise, it’s a go.” To his relief, the lilt in her voice had returned, although her revelation wasn’t the news he’d wanted to hear.
“I was afraid of that.”
“Still worried about dancing in front of people?”
“Not worried,” he corrected. “Uncomfortable.”
“As a surgeon, you should be used to being in the spotlight.”
“Yes, but it isn’t the same spotlight,” he insisted. In the OR, he actually knew what he was doing and was at ease in his own skin. Sailing around a dance floor didn’t compare.
“The problem is, my schedule for the next month is a killer and lessons are out of the question,” he explained. “My partners are going on vacation and—”
“No one said you had to take lessons,” she pointed out.
The motto he’d lived by was simple. Anything worth doing was worth doing well. If he was going to participate in this dancing thing, then he’d put forth his best effort.
“Whatever we do at the time of the competition will be fine with me,” she added. “If you just want to stand and sway to the music, I’ll be happy.”
“You told me this morning it wouldn’t be good enough,” he accused.
She shrugged. “I changed my mind. I’m not participating to win a prize.”
He didn’t think the possibility of taking first place was her motive. She was simply one of those people who threw herself into whatever project caught her fancy, which was also why he disagreed with her remark about being happy. Christy had too much vim and vigor to be content with a lackluster performance. Even he wasn’t satisfied and he was far less outgoing than she was.
All of which meant that he was going to have to