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“Coffee. In the cafeteria. Dutch.”
Over the past four weeks, this had become Brett and Elyssa’s routine. On Thursdays, when she entertained the children, he was away from the hospital. But, on Tuesdays, after her clown class, they would meet in his office, then he’d ask her out for dinner at a restaurant and she’d refuse. Always pleasantly, but always firmly.
Every week he told himself he wouldn’t ask again. But he needed to eat, didn’t he? And he’d enjoy something better than unappetizing hospital chow. But that seemed to be all he’d get if he wanted to spend time with Elyssa.
Every week he became more captivated by her. Each time he saw her, his longing for her increased. He had to force himself not to lean across the table and taste her. He wanted to pull off that wig and bury his face in her hair, inhale its scent, feel its texture. He wanted to take her home, take her to bed. But what he wanted didn’t seem to matter because she damn well wouldn’t give him the chance.
Until now, he’d controlled his frustration. He’d been patient and polite. Too patient, too polite. Now was the time to push. Lightly, for starters. “Ouch. An arrow through the heart. You’ve turned me down four times in a row.”
Elyssa cocked her head. “I doubt your heart is the least bit wounded.”
“Trust me, it is. You can’t see the damage.”
She gave him a smile, a friendly but impersonal one, and started down the hall ahead of him.
In two quick strides he caught up with her. “Elyssa—” Two residents left the nurses’ station and fell into step behind them, trailing them into the elevator and all the way to the cafeteria. Exasperated, Brett held his peace until he and Elyssa were seated at a table in the corner, away from interested ears and wagging tongues. The hell with pushing lightly. “Are you involved with someone?” he asked.
“No.” Emotion flashed in her eyes but disappeared before he could read it. “You’ve caught me at an inconvenient time, that’s all.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m doing a birthday party at The Hungry Caterpillar at six. I have to stay in costume.”
“I always seem to catch you at an inconvenient time.”
She shrugged as she stirred creamer into her coffee. “What can I say? I have to take care of business.”
“Business,” he muttered. “What about pleasure?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’ll ask you out again,” he said. “Expect it.”
Her eyes gleamed with that unreadable emotion again. “No, Brett, don’t.”
“Don’t, what?” The frustration he’d concealed boiled over. “Don’t think about you? Don’t want to be with you?”
“Brett—” She pushed away the sweet roll she’d barely tasted and stood up.
He caught her wrist. “Don’t go. At least explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” But she sat down again. “This is a critical time for me. I’m trying to get my business off the ground.”
“All work and no play—”’
“Easy for you to say. You’ve already made your mark. Look, Brett.” She leaned forward, and the scent of her perfume teased his nostrils. “I like talking to you, but I don’t want to get involved with anyone just now.”
He’d thought he didn’t, either, but he couldn’t seem to let go. He waited until her eyes locked with his. Then he said quietly, “I’m a determined guy. I’ll work on changing your mind.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“I don’t think so.” He smiled slowly, confidently, a challenge in his tone. He took a card from his pocket, scribbled on it and put it into Elyssa’s hand, folding her fingers over it. “Here’s my home number. When you change your mind, call me.” He deliberately emphasized the “when.”
This time, when she stood, he let her go.
When he returned to his office a few minutes later, he sat at his desk, ignored the stack of messages his secretary stuffed into his hand and thought about Elyssa.
She mattered. Without intending to, she drew him, made him yearn. He knew she was driven, energetic and intelligent. She liked kids, read mysteries, never missed an episode of E.R., and tolerated hospital coffee. But he wanted to learn more about her, to learn…everything.
Telling him he was wasting his time wanting to be with her was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
He would keep reminding her he was interested. Step one, he thought, and reached for the telephone.
Chapter 3
Elyssa opened her front door and pushed the cart inside. She wasn’t surprised to see her cousin Cassie seated cross-legged on her living room floor. They weren’t roommates, but Cassie had a key and popped in whenever she pleased.
Clad in a skimpy white camisole, purple nylon running shorts, thick athletic socks and no shoes, Cassie bent forward, brushing the underside of her strawberry-blond hair. When Elyssa walked in, Cassie straightened and flipped the damp hair over her shoulder. “Hi, I used your shower.”
Elyssa pulled off her wig, tossed it on the coffee table along with her purse and dropped onto the couch. “Fine, as long as you left some cool water for me.”
“Why are you still wearing your costume in this heat? Don’t you usually change before you leave the hospital?” Cassie said.
“I was running late.” If she reminded Cassie that she’d quit taking off her costume and makeup since she’d been meeting with Brett, her cousin would launch into a blistering lecture, fiery enough to make the hot August day seem like December. Instead, Elyssa kicked off her black patent leather Mary Janes and changed the subject. “How was your day?”
Cassie grimaced. “One of the kids at Billy Henderson’s birthday party pinched me. Actually pinched me. Right here.” She leaned sideways and rubbed her bottom. “Can you charge a five-year-old with sexual harassment?”
“Not and make it stick.”
“Too bad.” Cassie rose gracefully from the floor. “Go change. I’ll get us some iced tea.” Long-legged and limber, she crossed the room. Elyssa’s gaze followed her cousin as she disappeared into the kitchen. An aspiring actress who’d recently been accepted to the city’s prestigious professional repertory company, Cassie drew eyes as if the spotlight perpetually shone on her. That had always been true.
Elyssa remembered how she’d envied her cousin in high school. People noticed Cassie. Compared to her, Elyssa had felt invisible. Oh, she’d been smart, an A student. She’d participated in activities—had been a reporter on the school paper from her freshman year on. She’d gone on dates, but boys hadn’t gone starry-eyed over her the way they had over Cassie. Of course not. Even in her early teens, Cassie had curves; Elyssa’d had angles. The only time she’d felt special was when she’d performed as Lulu.
“You’re a late bloomer. You’ll find your niche,” her mother used to console her. And in college she had bloomed. The angles softened, her braces came off and her skin glowed. After a couple of false starts, she’d chosen a radio/TV major and by the time she’d finished her second year of college, she’d begun to shine. After graduation, she’d spent a couple of years at a small TV station, then landed a spot with KIND News. By age twenty-seven, she was their rising star.
Thinking of that, and of how abruptly the glitter had faded, Elyssa went upstairs, took off her makeup, shed her costume and slipped into a robe. No wonder she’d resurrected Lulu, she thought. She needed her alter ego to feel special again.
“How was the hospital?” Cassie called as Elyssa started down the stairs.
“Okay.” Tying the sash on her robe, she returned to the living room.
Cassie appeared, carrying two glasses of iced tea. She frowned. “Just okay?”
“Mmm.” Elyssa forced a brighter tone. “Trace really participated. He wanted to know about different kinds of clown costumes. I had to tell him the whole history of clowning.”
“And how’s Dr. Dreamboat? Still saving the world?”
“Working on it, I guess.”
Cassie handed Elyssa a glass and sat on the chair across from her. “You’ve been having coffee in the cafeteria with him for a month now. When are you going to let him take you out?”
Elyssa picked at a loose thread on her robe. “I told him not to ask me again.”
“Elyssa! You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. It’s wasted effort.” Chin thrust out, she glared at her cousin. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Why not give the guy a break? Give yourself one, too.”
“It’s useless, Cass. The first day I met him, he said he’d seen me on the news. He expects me to look like Elyssa Jarmon of two years ago.” Automatically, her hand went to her cheek and traced the scar. “And even after plastic surgery, I don’t.”
“Close enough.”
“It wasn’t close enough for Derek.”
Cassie’s generous, usually smiling mouth, turned grim. “Derek,” she muttered. “If I could, I’d strangle him with my bare hands.” She leaned forward and grabbed Elyssa’s hand. “Don’t judge every man by Derek. He’s a scumbag. He didn’t appreciate what he had in you.”
Elyssa opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Cassie continued, eyes flashing. “You had a rough time after the accident, but you’ve put your life back together. You’ve never been a quitter. Why now?”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, I don’t. You’re not disfigured, are you? You have a few scars, so your face isn’t as perfect as it used to be. I’ll grant you it’s enough to keep you off the air—”
Elyssa’s chin shot up again. “I handled that.”
Cassie nodded. “And very well, too. But we’re talking about your personal life. You can’t stop living. There’s a man somewhere—maybe the man you just brushed off—who won’t give a damn about your face. Listen to me. You can’t avoid having Brett see you, not forever. And why should you? He isn’t Derek.”
Derek hadn’t been the only one who’d reacted badly to her less-than-perfect face, but she hadn’t told anyone, not even Cassie, about the others. And she didn’t intend to.
Cassie slammed her hand on the coffee table. “Dammit, give the guy a chance.”
A chance to hurt her? “I can’t. I told you, he has expectations.”
“How do you know that?” Cassie countered. “Does he walk around with a sign tattooed on his forehead that reads, I Have Expectations?”
Elyssa grinned at the image, then sobered. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s—”
They both started as the doorbell rang. “I’m not expecting anyone,” Elyssa said, frowning.
“Sit. I’ll get it,” Cassie said. She opened the door and poked her head out, exchanged a few words with someone, then turned, holding out a flower arrangement.
Two white orchids.
“What in the world? The deliveryman must have the wrong address,” Elyssa said. “Call him back.”
“Card says Elyssa Jarmon.”
Cassie set the vase on the coffee table, and Elyssa reached for the card. As she read, her cheeks heated, her heart began to thud. “They’re from Brett.”
“Well, well,” Cassie said, grinning. “Dr. Cameron’s a guy with class.” She leaned over Elyssa’s shoulder. “What’s the card say?”
“His name.” She slid her fingers over the rest of the message: “I’ll keep waiting for a yes.”
“Now you’ll have to go out with him,” Cassie said.
“No, I won’t.” Elyssa brushed a finger over the dark-green leaves, then yanked her hand away. “Brett’s an ambitious man, the kind of man who needs a gorgeous wife who gives elegant dinner parties and chairs benefits for the symphony.”
“Wife!” Cassie shuddered. “We’re talking about a simple dinner in a restaurant, not a lifetime commitment. Gawd, matrimony,” she said in her Lauren Bacall voice and sighed dramatically. “What a crock.”
Elyssa chuckled. Her cousin—independent, outspoken and in the rest of the family’s opinion, outrageous—could always make her laugh.
“You know my philosophy on marriage,” Cassie added.
Elyssa knew it well. Love affairs were acceptable, but Cassie believed that marriage and a career could not mix; hence, marriage had to go. Elyssa had never agreed with her cousin, but now… “My head’s too muddled to think about this.”
“I don’t blame you.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Talking about marriage gives me heartburn. Nevertheless, you should consider dating this man. White orchids, oh my.”
They sat admiring the flowers, then Cassie checked her watch, frowned and shook her arm. “Stopped. What time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
Cassie jumped up. “Omigosh, I’m due at rehearsal at seven.”
“Rehearsal! You got a part.”
Cassie grinned. “Nope, I’m the assistant to the assistant stage manager.” She turned her purse upside down on the coffee table and began pawing through the mess that spilled from it. “But I will get a part, one of these days. Aha!” She grabbed her car keys, waved them triumphantly and shoved everything else back into her bag. “See you.” She headed for the door. Over her shoulder, she added, “If Dean calls, tell him I’m on my way.”
Dean called. So did Dave…and Mario. Despite her views on matrimony, Cassie attracted men like honeysuckle attracted bees. How did she keep them all straight?
Shaking her head, Elyssa picked up the iced-tea glasses and carried them to the dishwasher. She’d always been a one-man woman. Of course, now she was a no-man woman.
She was glad she hadn’t thrown Brett’s card away. She’d intended to, but something had made her tuck it into the pocket of her costume, then into her robe. She took it out and called his home number. She’d be stern with him, she decided as his machine came on. “The orchids are beautiful, but I haven’t changed my mind. Let’s keep on being friends.”
Oh, Lord! She sat down hard on the chair by the phone. She’d been in broadcasting long enough to know what she’d just done. Her words had said one thing, but her voice—her soft, husky tone—had said something totally different.
Disgusted with herself, she marched upstairs to the bathroom, yanked off her robe and tossed her underwear in the hamper. She turned on the cold water in the shower but didn’t get in. Instead, she stared at her nude body in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
Her figure was the same as before the accident, maybe a little thinner. The gash on her thigh had healed and the scar was beginning to fade. It was pink now, perhaps as light as it would ever be. Her nose looked almost straight. Even the scars on her cheek had dimmed a little. But without the clown makeup, the marks were still visible, clear reminders of that night she could never quite recapture.
What would Brett Cameron think if he saw her as she really was? A picture of him flashed in her mind—tall and tanned with a killer smile and a gentleness that almost brought tears to her eyes. A longing so sharp it nearly buckled her knees rushed though her. She knew just how his lips would taste, how his body would feel against hers.
He was a doctor, used to scars. And, compared to most, hers were minor. Maybe…maybe he wouldn’t care.
But maybe he would.
She wouldn’t risk a rejection from him. She’d insist she meant what she said on the phone. They’d just be friends. With a last look at her reflection, she got into the shower.
But later she took the orchids into her room and set them on the nightstand by the bed. So lovely, so romantic… The man had her on the verge of tumbling into a situation that would only cause her grief. She had to think of something else.
She reached for the book by David Brinkley that Jenny had given her. Stretching out on her bed, she opened it and flipped through the pages, reading snippets here and there. Her attention was caught by doodles and notes scribbled at the end of a chapter: “The committee, 5, 1066, March 2.” Beneath them was a drawing of a skull and crossbones.
Elyssa shivered. March 2 was the day before their accident.
