Forever's Promise

She reached for the front door, but he stopped her, clamping a hand on her right shoulder. Shayla peered down at his hand, then looked up at him. “Remove it. Now,” she ordered.

“Would you let me explain about last night?”

“Remove. It. Now.”

He heaved a sigh and let go of her shoulder.

To Malinda, she said, “We need to catch up. Maybe we can have dinner? Or, better yet, come on over to The Jazzy Bean for lunch one day.”

“Will do,” Malinda said, amusement tracking across her face as she glanced over at Dr. Gorgeous Eyes.

Shayla refused to give him an ounce more of her attention. Without another word she turned and walked out the clinic’s front door.

* * *

“So, you aren’t married?”

“No, I’m not,” Xavier answered. “Take a deep breath for me.” He pressed the flat end of the stethoscope to Penelope Robottom’s back.

“Divorced?”

“Nope. Another deep breath,” he instructed.

Mrs. Robottom complied, but as soon as he removed the stethoscope, she continued on her fact-finding mission. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Mrs. Robottom, I don’t think—”

“My daughter, Tabitha, is in the middle of a divorce right now. I never liked her husband. I would love for her to find someone sweet and successful, like you.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but—”

She cut him off again. “Maybe the two of you can go out to dinner?”

Xavier’s eyelids slid shut for a brief moment as he made notations on Mrs. Robottom’s chart. He just didn’t get it. Sure, he’d encountered his share of women whose eyes lit up at the sight of a white doctor’s coat and no wedding ring, but this bordered on ridiculous.

How ironic that the only woman who had piqued his interest in the month since he’d come to Louisiana had looked as if she was ready to run him over with her car when she left after dropping off the coffee a few hours ago. Could he really blame her? After what he’d accused her of, he’d be lucky if Shayla Kirkland didn’t report him to hospital administration.

He needed to smooth things over with her. Now that he knew she was the owner of the little coffee shop down the street, he at least knew where to find her.

“It sounds as if your lungs are clearing up nicely,” Xavier told Mrs. Robottom. “But make sure you finish the round of antibiotics. Don’t stop just because you’re feeling better. If you notice any problems, come out to the hospital in Maplesville. Don’t wait until we’re back at the clinic here in Gauthier.”

“I will, Dr. Wright. I’ll see if Tabitha can bring me.”

“Only come if there is a problem,” Xavier reminded her. He had no doubt she’d be in the E.R. with her not-quite-divorced daughter by midweek.

He saw Mrs. Robottom to the lobby and turned the Open sign on the door to Closed once she and her husband, Nathan, had left the clinic.

“Good work today,” Bruce said, coming up the hallway. He gestured to the lobby’s collection of mismatched chairs. “How about a short debriefing? It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

He, Malinda and Bruce, along with another RN and a nursing assistant, discussed the cases they’d seen that day. They all agreed that Gauthier was on the verge of a chicken pox outbreak. Four children under the age of twelve had been brought in with symptoms just that day.

Xavier was also concerned with the number of cases of diabetes. This was only his third week of volunteering at the clinic, which was opened three days a week for the residents of Gauthier, yet he’d seen at least a dozen cases of pre-and full-blown diabetes. In a town this size, that was reaching epidemic levels.

They discussed possibly extending the hours, or opening for a half day on Saturdays so that people who worked and couldn’t make it to the clinic on a weekday could have access.

“Maybe we can start with every other Saturday to try it out,” Malinda suggested.

“I’m up for that,” Xavier said. It wasn’t as if he had a social life getting in the way of his work. One of the pitfalls of working these temporary assignments was that it made establishing a life outside of work practically impossible.

Of course, that had been the number one reason he’d joined Good Doctors, Good Deeds, an organization that helped to staff hospitals in underserved communities by providing temporary physicians who agreed to work for significantly lower salaries. Money wasn’t an issue for him—getting away from his hometown of Atlanta had been. Which was why he was on his third consecutive assignment with Good Doctors, Good Deeds.

“Okay, folks, that about does it,” Bruce said. “Don’t forget the barbecue at my place Friday. Xavier, you’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Yep, then I switch to the graveyard shift.”

“Don’t worry,” Malinda said. “It’s the easiest of the three. Unlike in the big cities, things are quiet overnight around here.”

“My last few assignments have been in rural communities. I’m just fine with the slower pace.”

They all gave each other proverbial pats on the back for a job well done before closing down the clinic. Xavier followed Malinda into the employee break room and grabbed his backpack, then they both headed for the back door entrance that led to a small, graveled parking lot behind the clinic.

“Sooo,” Malinda said, dragging out the word as she held the door open for him. “Those were some serious sparks of attraction I saw flying between you and Shayla today.”

Xavier huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure I’d call it that.”

“Seemed pretty electric to me.”

“I’m sure if she could have gotten away with it she would have scalded me with that hot coffee this morning.” He unlocked his Jeep, but didn’t get in. Leaning against the door, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his green scrubs, and said, “She came into the E.R. last night with her niece, who’d gotten into the Easter egg dye.”

“And?”

“And.” Xavier scratched the back of his head. “Well, I may have accused her of purposely feeding the child the dye so that she would have a reason to take her to the E.R. And, you know, meet me.”

A look of horror flashed across Malinda’s face.

“I know. I know,” Xavier said. “It’s just that the women around here have gone to so many ridiculous lengths to visit my E.R.” He pointed to the clinic. “Just today Mrs. Robottom was hinting at hooking me up with her daughter, who is still married, by the way.”

Malinda waved him off. “Tabitha and Lenny have been separated for longer than they’ve been married. It’s about time they finally went through with the divorce. But Tabitha isn’t right for you. You’d do better with someone without so much baggage. Shayla is actually perfect. She’s single, the right age and successful in her own right.”

“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone,” Xavier said. “My assignment in Maplesville is for only three months. Between the hospital and volunteering at the clinic, I don’t have time to catch the Braves games on TV, let alone date. That’s not what I’m here for.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” Malinda shook her head as she unlocked her car door. “It would drive me crazy moving from one hospital to another. You have to learn all new hospital politics, and you’re always at the bottom of the totem pole.” She stopped. “Oh, wait. You’re an E.R. doctor. You’re used to being at the bottom of the totem pole.”

Xavier grinned at her good-natured barb, even though it stung way more than Malinda probably intended. The fact that he hadn’t gone into one of the sexier specialties had triggered the beginning of the demise of his relationship with his ex-fiancée, Nicole. She’d found herself a cardiothoracic surgeon and quickly suckered him into putting a ring on her finger.

Xavier scrubbed his mind of the image of the wedding photo he’d seen in the society pages of the Atlanta newspaper, Nicole’s orthodontics-enhanced smile staring back at him. He wasn’t putting himself through that today.

“I hope your conflict with Shayla doesn’t jeopardize our goodies,” Malinda said through her open driver’s-side window. “I’d hate to hurt your feelings when I choose coffee over you.”

He chuckled. “I’d do the same if given the choice.”

He tapped the roof of her car as she drove off.

Xavier set his backpack behind the seat and climbed into his Jeep Wrangler. As he came upon the intersection of Cooper Lane and Main Street, he spotted the sign for The Jazzy Bean about two blocks down. It featured a cartoon coffee bean playing a saxophone.

Ignoring the exhaustion that had him on the verge of collapse, he pulled into an empty parking slot in front of Claudette’s Beauty Parlor, locked the door—though it was hardly necessary in this small town—and a minute later walked through the front door of The Jazzy Bean.

The place was huge—much bigger than the average chain coffeehouse. Yet, despite its size, it still had a cozy feel. The polished concrete floors were stained a warm brown with hints of orange. A dozen small round table-and-chair sets occupied most of the space. A long, narrow bar lined with several stools ran the length of the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced Main Street.

Xavier stepped in a bit farther and noticed a stone-laid fireplace surrounded by several large wooden rocking chairs toward the rear of the coffeehouse. There was also a burnt-orange leather couch with two huge armchairs and a square ottoman. Several of the tables held chessboards, and a few had decks of cards. Framed black-and-white photographs of brass instruments, swampland scenes and coffee beans adorned brick walls. Despite the deep earth tones, the place was well lit with recessed lights and track lighting throughout.

“Nice,” Xavier murmured. “Damn nice.” It was much more than he’d expected to find in a small town like Gauthier.

He looked around, hoping to spot the person he’d come here for, but Shayla was nowhere to be found.

He walked over to a corkboard affixed to the wall, careful not to bump the table that had all the fixings for coffee—creamer, sugar, artificial sweeteners, honey and stirrers. Tacked to the corkboard were signs for various happenings in and around Gauthier. The civic association was sponsoring an Easter-egg hunt in Heritage Park. The local high school’s 4-H Club was having a bake sale and car wash. There were Zumba classes right here at The Jazzy Bean on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

“Dr. Wright?”

Xavier turned. He pointed to the young lady who’d come into the E.R. over the weekend. “Erin, right?”

She nodded. “You remembered.”

“Sure. How are you feeling?”

“Much better. You were right. It was just a stomach virus. Combined with the lack of sleep, it just wore me out.”

“You mentioned the other day that you’re premed. Sorry to break it to you, but the lack of sleep will only get worse.”

She grimaced. “I’ve been told.”

“Don’t tell me you work here, too, in addition to going to school?”

“Only part-time,” she said. “But that’s about to change. I’m getting an apartment in New Orleans before the start of my next semester.”

“And I will be very sorry to see her go.”

Xavier turned to find Shayla sauntering up to them, her delicately flared hips swaying in a way that caused his skin to prickle with the same electricity that had jolted him last night in the E.R. Tied around her waist was an apron featuring the saxophone-playing coffee bean that was on the sign outside.

“Hello again,” Xavier greeted.

“Hello,” she said. Her tone lacked the sharpness that had colored it earlier today. That had to be a good sign, right?

She pointed at Erin. “You’ve got a paper due, which means you need to get out of here. Lucinda and I will close up.”

Erin’s relief was evident in her smile. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Shayla turned back to him. “Sorry to kick you out, but we’re closing in five minutes.”

He pointed to the flyer tacked to the community board. “Says here that Zumba class starts at 6:30 p.m.”

“You’re here for Zumba?”

Her skeptical expression wrangled a laugh out of him. “Maybe,” Xavier answered.

“Hey, Shayla, would you tell this old woman to get me my apple fritter so I can leave?” They both turned at the sound of the gravelly voice calling from the counter.

“No fritters for you, Mr. Henry,” Shayla said. “Imogen told me your cholesterol was up last week.”

The older gentleman grunted and paid for the bran muffin.

“Sacrificing a sale for the well-being of your customer?” Xavier asked. “He could have just taken his business elsewhere.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Doctor, when it comes to coffee and baked goods, I’m the only game in town. And I’m not willing to contribute to the rising health problems here in Gauthier just to make a few bucks.”

“That’s pretty noble of you.”

“But not completely altruistic. The longer I can keep them alive, the longer I can have them as customers,” she said, sending him a sassy wink. “I am a businesswoman, after all.”

He laughed. “I need to adopt that motto. It works in my line of business, too.” He followed her over to the tables and chairs and watched as she began wiping down the tabletops.

She looked up at him. “You’re still here?”

He nodded. “And I will be until you accept my apology.”

“Going to be a long, lonely night in this coffee shop for you. And if I find any inventory missing in the morning, I’m charging you for it.”

“Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“Because you accused me of jeopardizing my niece’s health as a ploy to meet you. You’d better be grateful I haven’t punched you in the gut. That was my first instinct.”

“I am begging you to accept my apology for that. It was out of line, and I truly am sorry.”

She spun around and planted the hand with the towel on her hip. “What could possibly make you jump to the conclusion that I was the one who’d given Kristi the dye?”

He held his hands out, pleading with her to understand. “Look, I’ve had an—” he tried to think of the right word “—an interesting introduction to this area. I seem to be very popular with the single ladies in Maplesville and Gauthier. I thought you were another one trying to sneak your way into my E.R.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about your popularity,” she said, moving to another table and resuming her task. “I happened to catch a gossip session yesterday that was all about the hot new doctor. I cannot believe how the women here are scheming just to get closer to you. It’s ridiculous.”

“Ouch,” Xavier said after a pause. “Way to hurt my feelings.”

She halted in the middle of wiping down the table, looked up at him and burst out laughing.

“That sounded awful, didn’t it?” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that it was ridiculous that women would try to get closer to you. It’s just the lengths they’re going to that seem over the top. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Dr. Wright.”

The self-deprecating grin inching up the edges of her lips was as edible as any of the pastries in the display case. Xavier would bet it tasted better than any of them, too.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.”

Her grin broadened. “Nice try.”

The smile made her already gorgeous face even more alluring. For a moment, her full, gently bowed lips held him captive. She’d gathered her curly hair into a ponytail, making her regal cheekbones more pronounced.

“Shayla, I—”

He was cut off by a loud voice that yelled, “Auntie Shayla!”

The two little girls from last night ran out from a short hallway toward the rear of the coffeehouse.

“Auntie Shayla, is it almost time to dance?” the younger one asked. She looked no worse for wear after last night’s E.R. visit.

When she spotted him, her eyes widened. “Dr. Wright!” She ran up to him, nearly crashing into his legs. “I’m not throwing up yellow stuff anymore.”

“That’s because he gave you medicine to make you feel better,” the older girl said in that soft voice of hers.

“I’m happy it worked,” Xavier said. “And we learned a lesson, right? No eating Easter egg dye, even if it is your favorite color?”

They both nodded.

“Dr. Wright is right,” Shayla said, running a hand down each girl’s head. “Dancing starts in a few minutes. Why don’t you ask Ms. Lucinda to get you each some chocolate milk?”

“I want mine first,” the youngest yelled as they both sprinted for the kitchen.

Shayla turned her attention back to him. “This has been fun, but in about ten minutes I’m going to have a bunch of women here looking to get their Zumba on, and I need to have this place ready.”

She started clearing the middle of the floor, dragging the chairs over to the wall. Xavier picked up a table and carried it over.

“Thanks, but you really don’t have to do this.”

“I know. It’s all a part of my master plan to get in your good graces,” he said with a wink. He got a glimpse of that grin again. Damn, but that grin was nice.

“So, there’s a plan?” she asked.

Xavier nodded as he carted another table away. “Oh, yeah. I’m determined to get you to accept my apology.”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him for a moment.

“What?” Xavier asked.

She shook her head after another beat. “Nothing. Continue on. I’m usually doing this by myself, so it’s nice to have some help.”

He moved the last table, then walked up to her, stopping just inside of personal-space territory. “I’d be happy to come by in the evenings and help you move furniture around. Just let me know when to be here.”

She didn’t step back, which he took as a good sign. It meant that she was okay with him being in her personal space. A very good sign. He rather enjoyed her personal space.

The front door opened and two women walked in. Xavier recognized them as members of Gauthier’s Civic Association. They stopped in at the clinic at least once a week to see if there was any help they could provide.

“Hey there, Mrs. Eloise and Mrs. Clementine,” Shayla called. “Glad you two could make it.” They both waved, but headed to the counter where the cook was packing up the leftover baked goods from the display case.

“That would be your cue to leave,” Shayla said. “My class will be starting in just a few minutes.”

“Have you accepted my apology yet?”

She pitched her head back and sighed dramatically at the ceiling. “Fine. I accept your apology.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Xavier said. “I think maybe I should apologize over dinner.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. It seemed as if she was experiencing the same shock he was. Had he really just asked her out to dinner?

“You move pretty quickly, don’t you?” Shayla asked.

No, he didn’t. These days, when it came to women, he was the exact opposite of quick, especially after the way things had ended with Nicole. But now that he’d asked, he wasn’t backing down. In fact, he was dying for her to say yes.

“I want to make up for last night’s blunder.” He reached for her hand. “Let me take you to dinner, Shayla.”

When he touched her a current of electricity sparked between them. Xavier saw her breath catch. She stared down at their clasped hands, then back up at him. They stood there for several moments, the air between them crackling with a charged sizzle that he felt down to his toes.

Her eyes still locked with his, she slowly eased her fingers out of his grasp. “While I appreciate the invitation, I’m just too busy these days. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline. Good night, Dr. Wright.”

No way was he giving up this easily, not after the forceful surge that had overpowered the air between them a moment ago.

“What can I do to convince you to reconsider?” Xavier asked.

So now he was pleading for a date? What in the hell was going on with him?

A group of spandex-clad women of varying ages walked through the front door.

“Good night, Dr. Wright,” Shayla said again.

Swallowing a frustrated groan, Xavier accepted defeat. For now.

“Good night,” he said, staring at her retreating form as she turned and headed for one of the tables toward the back of the room. He continued to stare as she set up an iPod docking station and attached a set of speakers to it.

Just as he turned to leave, Margery Lambert, who’d brought her grandson to the clinic last week with a virus, stopped him. As she went on and on about the child’s antics over the past week, the Zumba class started. Xavier barely registered Mrs. Lambert’s words as Shayla began to instruct her students. His mouth dried up at the sight of her perfectly curved hips rotating to the Latin dance beats coming from the iPod.

God, she was beautiful. And sexy.

And definitely worth another attempt at asking out to dinner.

It took him a moment to reacquaint himself with the idea of actually pursuing a woman. Sure, he’d hooked up with a couple of women over the past year—women who knew from the start that he wanted a no-strings-attached deal. Dinner wasn’t even expected, just a mutual meeting of body parts to fulfill a certain need. But when he’d asked Shayla to dinner, a casual hookup had been the last thing on his mind.

“Oh, I’m missing the warm-up,” Mrs. Lambert said. “Anyway, Jayden is doing so much better. Thank you again, Dr. Wright. I am so grateful to have you and the others at the new clinic.”

Xavier jerked to attention. Had she been talking to him this whole time?

“I... You’re welcome,” he said before Mrs. Lambert went over to join the rest of the class.

He lingered for a few minutes before forcing himself to exit the coffee shop. As he strolled to his Jeep, he prayed that visions of Shayla Kirkland’s swaying hips didn’t keep him up half the night.

* * *

“What about marshmallows?” Kristi clapped her hands excitedly and jumped up and down as if she’d just come up with the best recipe in the history of the universe.

“I’m not sure marshmallows will work in these cookies,” Shayla said. “What if we try bulgur wheat, chai seeds and raisins?”

That got her the “you must be an alien who just sprouted two heads and an extra arm” look from both nieces.

“Okay, nix the chai,” Shayla said. She’d throw them in there when they weren’t looking.

“And add chocolate chips,” Kristi suggested.

They compromised on a dark chocolate drizzle. Even with the extra chocolate the cookies would still be better than the junk Shayla had encountered Kristi eating when she’d dropped in unannounced during snack time at school today. She’d walked into the classroom and had to stop herself from snatching the honeybun slathered with thick icing from her niece’s hands.

Discovering what passed for snacks at Kristi’s preschool only reaffirmed Shayla’s quest to break the cycle of unhealthy eating habits in this area before her nieces fell into the trap. Tonight’s baking adventure served double-duty. Not only was it another way to bond with the girls, but it also gave her a chance to test a few new recipes for The Jazzy Bean.

She’d been ecstatic to find a supplier in New Orleans that specialized in heart-healthy organic baked goods, but their prices had increased by 15 percent in the past six months. It was hard enough convincing customers to try the healthier options; they definitely would not be willing to pay a premium for them.

“What time does mommy get here?” Kristi asked as she sprinkled in raisins a little at a time.

“She should be getting in any minute. Her airplane landed at eight o’clock.”

Cass’s eyes darted to the stove. “She’s going to fuss at us for not being in bed.”

“She’ll be so happy to see you I think she’ll forgive you this one time.”

The sound of tires crunching the shelled driveway could be heard through the opened kitchen window.

“Mommy!” Cassidy and Kristi both screamed. They took off for the back door. Moments later, her sister-in-law walked into the house. She stooped and gathered her girls in a group hug.