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‘Going to run an ad in the personal column?’ she asked dryly. ‘That should bring every single woman in Mercer knocking on your door.’
‘Nope,’ he said, wrapping his hands around the bottle. ‘No personal ad. Like you said, since I’m such an eligible bachelor and a great catch, I’ll have females crawling out of the woodwork.’
The smooth brown glass felt cool against his sweaty palms. Katie was vital to the success of his plan and if he couldn’t convince her he was doomed.
‘Then how are you going to search for Mrs Right?’
He clutched the bottle tightly. ‘I’ll ask someone to help me.’
‘Who?’
‘You.’
She blinked owlishly, then leaned back in her chair as she narrowed her eyes to study him. ‘Me?’
He drew a deep breath and forged ahead. ‘Yeah. I’d like you to help me find a wife.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE silence between them lengthened. J.D. held his breath, waiting and watching for Katie’s response.
She rose in disgust. ‘You’re drunk.’
He was affronted. ‘Not a chance. I’m only on my second beer.’
‘Well, something has interfered with your thinking process,’ she snapped. ‘I’m going home.’
He jumped up to grab her elbow. ‘You’re the logical choice. It makes perfect sense.’
Her eyes shot sparks. ‘To you, maybe. To me? Not a chance. I’m not running a dating service and I don’t intend to start one either.’
‘Will you hear me out?’ He hesitated. ‘Please?’
A mulish look appeared on her face, but she finally acquiesced. She sat, folding her arms across her chest.
‘I’ll listen to your nonsense for three minutes. Your hare-brained idea doesn’t deserve that long, mind you, so start talking.’
J.D. pulled a chair away from the table, turned it around and sat down. He flashed her his most appealing smile, but her stiff countenance remained unchanged. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.
‘You helped me find Martha and Henrietta.’
‘Interviewing a housekeeper is different to scouting out prospective wives.’
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘The point is, you know both Daniel’s and my tastes and our personalities. All I want is for you to recommend a few women and if necessary, make a few introductions. Consider yourself in an advisory capacity, screening the candidates, if you will.’
‘Screen them yourself,’ she said pertly. ‘Or ask one of your friends for advice, like Tristan. I’m sure you’d rather have a male perspective anyway.’
He shook his head. ‘Tristan and Beth won’t be back for another month. Even if they hadn’t left on their extended but well-deserved vacation, I trust your opinion and your instincts.’
‘What’s wrong with your instincts?’
‘Nothing, but women are often more intuitive than men. You also know me better than anyone in Mercer.’
Katie toyed with the ends of her hair and looked thoughtful, but didn’t reply.
‘I want to do this discreetly,’ he continued, leaning forward. ‘I know what it’s like to be chased and believe me when I say it’s not an experience I want to repeat.’
He recalled one woman he’d gone out with BE—before Ellen—who’d convinced his apartment manager that she was a relative. He’d come home to find her preparing a Polynesian dish and wearing nothing but a lei and a grass skirt minus ninety-five per cent of the grass.
‘Ask your mother for help. She’d be delighted.’
‘I’d rather do it myself.’
‘See?’ she said brightly. ‘You just admitted you’d rather find a wife yourself.’ She started to rise and he grabbed her wrist with lightning speed.
‘Please?’ he asked, using his most cajoling tone.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why should I?’ she countered.
‘You’d have your life back.’
He watched her stiffen and her tone became brittle. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You’ve helped me from day one with whatever I needed and given up a good share of your life, caring for Daniel. To my regret, we haven’t had an equitable arrangement. The list of what you’ve done for us is endless. Daniel and I have taken more from you than we’ve given in return.’
She squared her shoulders and her eyes burned brightly. ‘For your information, J.D., I haven’t done anything that I didn’t want to do.’
‘I know, but I can’t help feeling that we’re—that I’m—taking advantage of your generosity. When I consider how hard you worked for your nursing degree and still looked after Daniel…’
‘Don’t forget how you helped me study,’ she reminded him.
‘Yes, but wouldn’t it have been easier if you had let us fend for ourselves?’
She fell silent and he pressed on. ‘At least think about what I’ve asked. Give me your answer tomorrow.’
‘I won’t change my mind.’
He played his trump card. ‘If I didn’t have to worry about Daniel, I wouldn’t ask for your help. Being a woman, you can sense who’d make a good mother.’
Pain flitted across her features and he quickly tamped down the shafts of guilt spearing his heart at causing her distress. Desperate times, however, required desperate measures.
She tugged her hand free. ‘It’s late and I want to go home.’
Afraid he’d already pushed her too hard, he nodded. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
She didn’t reply and he followed her into the tiny living room. He started to help her with her coat, but she stepped out of reach to avoid his touch. The deep hurt on her face struck at his heart, but he didn’t understand her reaction to his request. He’d expected her to be flattered to be included in such a monumental decision. As he’d said, once he was married, she’d be free to do whatever she wanted.
‘Goodnight,’ he said as she opened the door and stepped into the night.
‘’Night.’ The one word sounded husky in her throat.
He waited at the door until she’d started her car, turned on the headlights and pulled away from the kerb. His request had shocked her, that much was obvious, but Katie was level-headed and would see the rightness of it all.
Over the past four years, he couldn’t remember her ever going out on a date. Katie’s personal life had revolved around Daniel’s needs and his schedule. If not for them, she could be nurturing a family and children of her own by now.
Truthfully, the idea of marriage was starting to grow on him. He wouldn’t mind having someone around for companionship after Daniel had gone to bed; he wouldn’t mind coming home to someone who greeted him as enthusiastically as Daniel did.
J.D. turned on the hallway light so he could peek into his son’s room without awakening him. He smiled at the sight of Daniel sprawled out in careless abandon, wearing the flannel baseball-print pyjamas Katie had made. The plastic toy hook dangled from the fingers of one hand, as if he’d hated to let his newest possession out of reach. J.D. had a feeling that it would be well used before the time came for it to be a part of Daniel’s costume.
He crept quietly toward the bed and covered the child with his racing-car blanket. As he turned to leave, his gaze landed on the jumble of possessions covering the top of the dresser. One made him smile.
It was an oak leaf the size of a man’s hand—the same one that had tumbled across J.D.’s path as he’d stood outside the ER, catching a breath of fresh air one day. Because its reddish-gold hue had matched the colour of Daniel’s hair, he’d brought it home.
Thrilled with the unexpected gift, Daniel had deemed it worthy to place on his dresser along with his other treasures—a seashell, a rock dotted with flecks of fool’s gold, a nail bent in the shape of a horseshoe and a framed snapshot of Ellen.
While Daniel bore a resemblance to his mother, he definitely was J.D.’s child. Daniel’s photos matched those taken of J.D. at the same age, even down to his hazel eye colour. Daniel could look forward to having a squared jawline and patrician features in adulthood.
Ellen’s picture tickled his memory and Daniel’s often-voiced request for a mother echoed out as clearly as if Daniel had spoken them aloud.
J.D. squared his shoulders. With luck, and Katie’s help, things would soon be different. It was time to exchange the Berkley bachelor household for the Berkley family home.
J.D. arrived at the work the next morning, wondering if he’d irrevocably damaged his friendship with Katie. As he strode into the ER, she greeted him politely but without her customary cheerfulness. Her dark eyes seemed tired and less animated. Now obviously wasn’t the time to press for her decision.
‘How’s it going so far?’ he asked, keeping the conversation work-related.
‘Not bad. It’s quiet right now. There’s a pot of coffee on the burner, so you’d better grab some before it disappears.’
He sniffed the air. There was nothing like the smell of freshly brewed Colombian blend to start the day right. Scanning the duty board for today’s assignments, he leaned closer to ask in a whisper, ‘Who made it?’
‘Don’t you want to be surprised?’
He grimaced. ‘My cast-iron stomach can only take so much. Only you and Beth make decent coffee. Since she’s gone, I have to wait for you to fix it.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever considered learning how to do it yourself? It isn’t brain surgery, you know. I’d hate for you to be dependent on me.’
He winced at her coolly issued barb, knowing he deserved it.
‘If you must know,’ she said crossly, ‘I made this pot.’
‘Good,’ he said, reaching inside the cupboard for the mug he’d received from a pharmaceutical rep promoting Viagra, the latest and greatest male potency pill. Eyeing the plate of cookies on the counter, he asked, ‘Who brought those?’
‘Ashley.’
He studied them with suspicion. ‘Is this one of her own concoctions?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll pass.’ Ashley liked to modify tried-and-true recipes in her attempt to create new taste treats. Her goodies were inedible a good percentage of the time.
Before he could ask the question burning inside him, Katie changed the subject. ‘I’m going to run down to the nursing director’s office while we’re not busy. Ashley will be here to cover, but if something big comes in you can page me. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.’
Normally she would have been more forthcoming about her plans, especially as he knew how much she dreaded visiting with Mrs Morgan, the director of nursing usually referred to as Old Battle Axe.
He settled into a chair behind the desk with the latest medical journal, hoping to read at least one article before someone required his expertise. Fifteen minutes later Katie’s co-worker, Ashley Dahlquist, sank into a chair beside him.
Conscious of his new goal, he let his gaze travel over Ashley’s left hand. It was bare.
He leaned back to study her without her knowledge. She was pleasant-looking, had a nice figure and, from her conversations, liked to play racquet-ball. She’d graduated from this past year’s nursing class along with Katie, but at twenty-seven Katie was a few years older and her years of service as an emergency medical technician had given her a confidence that Ashley lacked.
On the other hand, Ashley was congenial and anxious to please. Not bad wifely attributes, he thought, even if she couldn’t cook. Before he could dwell further on the subject, Katie breezed through the double doors.
‘I’m back.’ Suddenly, she stopped short, her eyes wide with surprise. J.D. felt as if she knew that he’d looked at Ashley as a prospective marriage candidate rather than as another nurse. Her shoulders seemed to droop, along with the corners of her mouth.
‘All clear here,’ he said in an overly bright voice. “Not a creature is stirring…”’
Ashley rose. ‘We’re getting low on syringes and gloves. Katie, do you think I should run to Central Supply and get a few more boxes?’
‘Yeah. Good idea.’
Ashley left, intent on her task and apparently oblivious to the undercurrents flowing through the room.
Katie reached over the counter and pulled out the latest infection control policy from the slot designated for new policies. She spoke, avoiding his gaze.
‘She’s hoping to get an engagement ring this Christmas. Just thought you’d want to know.’
‘I do.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Now do you see why I need your help?’
Her mouth formed a hard line and her nod seemed half-hearted. ‘All right, but I have conditions.’
‘Name them.’
She shook her head. ‘We can discuss them later.’
‘Tonight?’ he asked hopefully. Now that he’d committed himself to his course, he wanted to get started.
‘OK. After Daniel’s in bed.’
‘Good idea.’ The less Daniel knew, the better. He would announce to anyone who would listen that his daddy was finding him a mother. J.D. didn’t need the aggravation or the publicity caused by such news.
‘Fine. By the way, I’m using some of my overtime this afternoon.’
‘Anything special planned?’ he asked.
‘Just doing a few things I’ve been putting off,’ she said noncommittally.
