Читать книгу Dr. Irresistible - Elizabeth Bevarly - Страница 9

Even after detouring through the women’s room on her way, by the time Pru sat down at the nurses’ station in neurology, she still hadn’t quite recovered from her little…whatever it had been…with Dr. Mahoney. Her heart was still hammering hard in her chest, her blood was still fizzing at light speed through her veins, the strings of her heart were still zinging to beat the band, and her brain was a muddled mass of confusion and—dammit—desire.

Worse than all that, however, her stomach was grumbling hungrily in protest of the fact that it had been anticipating a plate full of cookies by now. Hey, too bad, Pru told her noisy belly. There was nothing to be done for it. No way would she go back to that break room as long as Seth Mahoney was still in the building. Or still in the state of New Jersey, for that matter.

Boy, she’d really been looking forward to scarfing up a few of those springerlies, too, broken, burned bottoms and all. She’d had to miss lunch today, because Tanner had been clingy and fretful, and she just hadn’t had it in her to disregard his demands.

He was such a great kid, after all, and normally made surprisingly few demands on her. Usually he was a pretty free-wheeling, independent little guy, which had made his moodiness today all the more distressing. And since he’d been so unwilling to part with Pru at the hospital’s day care center, she’d used up what little time she had left before her shift to play with him and read to him, in the hope that it would make his transition a little easier.

Ultimately that plan had worked out nicely. By the time she’d left him in the care of her good buddy, Teresa, the little guy was cooing and laughing and having a great time. But then Pru had been cranky and out of sorts, thanks to being so hungry. She’d planned on eating enough cookies to tide her over until her 6:30 dinner break. But she wasn’t about to return to the neurology department’s engagement party for Renee, with Dr. Mahoney on the make.

Then again, she thought dryly, when was Seth Mahoney not on the make? He was the biggest lurer of women to come along since a snake unwound itself from around an apple tree. And she did not want to find herself the object of his temptation. Again. It had been hard enough to resist him the first time he’d tried tempting her—which had been about thirty seconds after starting his first shift at Seton General two years ago. The second time he had tried tempting her had been even more difficult—and had been about forty-five seconds after starting his first shift at Seton General two years ago. Not to mention the third time—sixty seconds after starting his first shift. And the fourth time, at two minutes. And the…

Well, it just never got any easier, that was all. And just how dumb did that make her, wanting to succumb to a man like him, even if she had been successful—so far—in keeping her distance? Seth Mahoney was the very last kind of man Pru needed in her life. He was incorrigible. Immature. Impulsive. Even if he was Dr. Irresistible.

Which, fine, she conceded, was a suitable enough nickname for him, because he was sort of…you know…irresistible. But that was only because he was charming and cute and, okay, a little adorable, too, in a blond, blue-eyed, all-American-boy kind of way. And, okay, so maybe there were times—not that many, though—when Pru caught herself ogling him as he strode down a hallway or when she ran into him in the cafeteria or some such thing.

And yeah, yeah, sure, okay, he showed up in her dreams on occasion, in a fashion that was anything but professional—mainly because he was undressed and the two of them were…well, never mind. And all right, yes, truth be told, she’d even fantasized about him once or twice when she was fully conscious and he was fully clothed.

But honestly. A more philandering, womanizing playboy she had never met. Ever since his arrival at Seton General, Seth Mahoney had left a string of broken hearts, of both the RN and MD variety, in his glorious, blond, blue-eyed wake. He was everything she didn’t want or need in a man. Succumbing to him would be…would be…

Well, it would be totally irresponsible.

And irresponsible was the one thing that Pru Holloway totally, absolutely, definitely, unequivocally, at all costs, avoided being. These days, at least. No way would she tolerate being called irresponsible. So no way was she going to take up with Seth Mahoney.

He was in no way husband-and-father material, and these days that was exactly what Pru wanted and needed—and deserved—in a man. Someone who was upright, forthright, do right. Someone who wanted to build a family, not abandon one. Seth Mahoney had way too much in common with Tanner’s father, she recalled, not for the first time. Both were golden-haired, ocean-eyed charmers. Both had a way of making a woman—any woman—feel as if she were their one-and-only, forever-after kind of love. Both were totally irresistible.

And both had the emotional maturity of thirteen-year-olds.

A year and a half ago, the day Pru had realized she was pregnant, she had hesitated before telling her boyfriend, Kevin, the news. She’d been stunned at first by the knowledge of her impending motherhood—the two of them had been using birth control but had become part of that slight percentage of failure. Yet after giving her condition some serious thought, Pru had been surprised to discover, even then, that she wasn’t all that upset to find herself pregnant.

In the long run—once the shock had worn off, anyway—she’d come to understand that it wasn’t the idea of impending motherhood that had really bothered her then. No, what had really bothered her had been the idea of marrying Kevin. As much as she’d told herself she loved the guy, Pru just hadn’t been able to quite visualize living with him…day after day after day…week after week after week…month after month after month…for the rest of her natural life. Deep down she’d known, even then, that he wasn’t a forever-after kind of guy.

But she had wanted to behave responsibly, and that meant telling Kevin he would be a father and then marrying Kevin so that their baby would benefit from the presence of two loving parents. Unfortunately, she discovered right away that there were a couple of unforeseen factors she hadn’t fully considered where their relationship was concerned. One of those factors was that Kevin was a complete jerk. The other factor was that said jerk took off for Jerkland the day after Pru broke the news to him, and he was never heard from again.

They had made a date to meet for dinner, to talk about their situation once Kevin had had twenty-four hours to get used to the idea of his impending fatherhood. But Kevin had evidently decided what he wanted to do in about twenty-four seconds. Because he never showed up at the restaurant. And when Pru went to his apartment, she discovered that it had been cleaned out. Completely. When she went to the Chevron station where he worked, she was told he had quit his job that morning and had left no forwarding address where he could be contacted. According to his boss, he’d cited “family problems” as the reason for his abrupt departure.

Yeah, right. Family problems, Pru repeated to herself now. His problem was that he hadn’t wanted a family.

She sighed with heartfelt frustration, pushed the sad memories away and sat down in her chair at the nurses’ station. She knew she was better off this way, that any life she might have tried to build with Kevin would have come tumbling down around her feet in no time flat. Better that she had discovered what kind of man he was before Tanner’s birth, than to risk having Tanner grow attached to his father and suffer the grief of his loss.

A baby needed to be loved and wanted. Kevin had obviously felt neither emotion for his son, and Tanner would have eventually figured that out. But Pru had enough love and want in her heart for two people and then some, and she gave it all to her child. Someday, she was confident, she would meet a man with whom she could share those feelings, too, a man who would be both perfect husband and perfect father material. For now, however, she was truly content to be alone.

Well, pretty content to be alone, at any rate. Kind of content. In a way. Being alone was certainly better than being with someone who didn’t love her. Of that much she was absolutely sure.

“Why, Prudence Holloway, as I live and breathe!”

Pru’s head snapped up at the summons, and her gaze fell on a woman who appeared to have exited from one of the patient rooms that surrounded the nurses’ station. She studied the woman intently in silence for a moment, and although she looked a bit familiar, Pru couldn’t quite place where she might have met her.

“Yes?” she said, not quite able to hide her confusion. “I’m Pru Holloway. Can I help you?”

The woman drew nearer and frowned at her, but the gesture seemed playful somehow. She wore a pale-lavender dress that shimmered beneath the fluorescent lighting overhead in a way that only pure silk can. Elegant pearls circled her neck and were fastened in her ears, and a good half dozen rings—all quite sparkly in a rainbow of hues—decorated the fingers of both hands. Her cosmetics were artfully applied, her strawberry-blond hair swept back from her face by an expert hand.

In no way was she the kind of woman who traveled in Pru’s social circle. This woman was obviously wealthy and refined, and used to the finer things in life.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me,” she said. “Easton High School? Class of ’90?”

Pru studied the woman harder. If this woman was, as she seemed to be claiming, a member of Pru’s senior class, then Pru should definitely remember her. No way would she forget anyone at Easton High in her native Pittsburgh, in spite of there having been 240 members of her graduating class, and in spite of the fact that she had gone out of her way to avoid every last one of them for the past ten years.

No way would she forget the people who had dubbed her, in the year book’s senior class superlatives, “Most Irresponsible.”

The dubious distinction had only crowned what had been four years of taunting from her classmates, and it had brought with it many chuckles throughout her senior year. Pru, however, had never been the one laughing. No, that particular pleasure had fallen to all her classmates, who had delighted in replaying, time and time again, all the instances when she had behaved a bit…oh…irresponsibly.

Pru herself had never understood the humor everyone else had found in having awarded her such a label. Even if she had been a tad, oh…irresponsible…over the years, that was no reason for her high school class to have voted her such.

And then to have printed the distinction in the senior yearbook.

Beside a photograph of her dangling upside down over the side of a cliff, with a rappelling line wrapped around her ankle after she had…irresponsibly…tried to climb it without the benefit of lessons.

And above a list of other activities—at least a dozen of them—that had been a trifle, oh…irresponsible.

For everyone to see. For everyone to laugh about. For all eternity.

It really wasn’t so much that Pru had been irresponsible, she tried to reassure herself now, as she had for so many years. No, it had just been that she just didn’t like to be bothered with taking the extra time out to learn to do things or read the instructions or follow rules.

These days, of course, she was nothing like she had been in high school. Nothing at all. No way. Motherhood had brought with it an enormous amount of responsibility. And Pru was proud of herself for having risen to the occasion so nicely. She took good care of her son, provided a life for him that was, if not luxurious, certainly more than adequate. And these days, those rash impulses that had been the bane of her youth were nowhere to be found.

At least, she was pretty sure they were nowhere to be found. It had been quite some time since she’d behaved rashly or impulsively. And she tried very hard to keep it that way. Of course, one could argue that her incessant preoccupation with one Seth Mahoney might be construed as slightly, oh…irresponsible. But she hadn’t acted on that preoccupation, had she? She hadn’t done anything there that might lead to behavior that was, oh…irresponsible. She hadn’t been at all impulsive or spontaneous or impetuous or even irresponsible.

Well, not yet, anyway, a little voice at the back of her head taunted her.

Ignoring the voice, Pru turned her attention back to the woman who had summoned her, resolved to decipher her identity.

As if sensing Pru’s determination, the woman smiled and said, “Oh, all right, I admit it. I’ve changed a bit.” She touched a finger to a delicate curl dancing over her forehead. “I used to be a dishwater blonde,” she confessed. “And I’ve lost about twenty-five pounds since we sat next to each other in Mrs. Clement’s literary social criticism class.”

Pru gaped, then covered her mouth. “Hazel Dubrowski?” she said.

The other woman’s smile turned radiant. “In person.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Pru cried, stunned by the transformation. “You look incredible.”

“Yes, I know,” Hazel agreed without a trace of modesty.

Now that Pru knew the woman’s identity, she could definitely see signs of seventeen-year-old Hazel Dubrowski lurking there. Still, ten years—and heaven knew how many trips to the salon—had given her old schoolmate a totally new appearance.

“It’s actually Hazel Debbit now,” she told Pru as she strode forward, pausing at the counter of the nurses’ station to drum perfectly manicured, plum-colored fingernails over the Formica covering. “I got married three years ago. My husband is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company that his father founded.”

“Is that what you’re doing here in South Jersey?” Pru asked. “Do you and your husband live here?”

Hazel shook her head. “No, we live in Pittsburgh, but my in-laws are here.” She jutted a thumb over her shoulder, toward the room she had exited a moment ago. “My father-in-law was in having some tests done. Nothing major,” she hastened to add. “He’s fine. In fact, my husband is helping him pack up his things now, because he’s just been released.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

The other woman nodded. “And now I run into you after all this time. Prudence Holloway. I can’t believe it. Small world. So what have you been doing since graduation? Nobody’s heard from you since you left Pittsburgh, especially now that your folks moved.”

Yes, well, there was a good reason for that, Pru recalled. Namely that she didn’t want to speak to anyone in Pittsburgh, especially now that her folks had moved. But she didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Hazel that.

“I’ve been living here in South Jersey for about six years now, ever since getting my nursing degree. I needed a change,” she said casually by way of an explanation. At least, she hoped she’d sounded casual. Because it really hadn’t been so much because she needed a change that had made her leave Pittsburgh. It had been more because she had needed an entirely new life.

“Wow,” Hazel said, obviously surprised by this news. “You got a nursing degree?” She shook her head in disbelief. “When I saw you standing out here, I figured you must be a hospital volunteer or something. I had no idea you were actually a nurse. I mean, that takes drive and ambition. You really have to dedicate yourself. I can’t believe you lasted through four years of college and nurse’s training. That’s amazing.”

Yeah, Pru thought morosely, and now that Hazel did know she was a nurse, she’d probably be wondering if her father-in-law had been safe while assigned to this unit. Because, hey, to everyone at Easton High, Prudence Holloway would live forever as “Most Irresponsible,” dangling upside down from a rappelling line.

“I mean,” Hazel added, as if she really, really, really wanted to drive home her point, “I can’t imagine anyone giving you a degree in something like nursing. It just sort of defies logic.”

Pru drew herself up with all the dignity she could muster. She was remembering Hazel pretty well now and recalling that, by their senior year, she had been like everyone else at Easton. Always looking for a new way to tear Pru down. Always poking fun. Always laughing.

“Yeah, well, even more astonishing,” Pru couldn’t help adding, “I graduated from nursing school at the top of my class.”

This time Hazel was the one to gape. “Get out,” she said. “Where did you go? Did you take one of those International School of Bartending nursing courses?”

Somehow, Pru managed to keep her growl of discontent to herself. “No. I went to Penn State,” she said.

Hazel only shook her head slowly as she studied Pru. “Boy, you just never know with some schools, do you?”

What Pru knew was that there was no reason to continue with this conversation. Just as everything—and everyone—else in high school had, it would only serve to demoralize her further. She’d come a long way in the ten years that had passed since graduation, and she wasn’t about to go back. Hazel Dubrowski Debbit just served as a reminder of how good Pru had it these days, having left all that behind.

“Well,” she said coolly to Hazel as she picked up a file from the counter that she really didn’t need at the moment. “It was good seeing you again, Hazel. Give my regards to everybody in Pittsburgh.”

She hoped she’d made clear her subtle but suitable hint that their conversation—and all other contact—was concluded, but Hazel obviously didn’t take it. Because even when Pru glanced down as if looking for something else, her old classmate closed what little distance remained between her and the station, then folded her arms over the counter. When Pru glanced up, arching her eyebrows in silent query, Hazel only smiled.

“You’ll be at the reunion next month, right?”

Although Pru had received her invitation—wondering, frankly, how and why the reunion committee had tracked her down—she had ignored it. No way would she subject herself to something like a ten-year reunion. Hey, she was happy these days. Why mess with a good thing? Especially since, considering her present situation of single motherhood, she would only be laughed at all over again?

Because what could possibly be more irresponsible than being knocked up and abandoned, right? The last thing Pru needed was for her senior class to be hearing about that. “No, I hadn’t planned to attend,” she said. Then, unable to quite quell the ten-year-old hurt that had haunted her, she found herself adding, “Do you honestly think I want to go to a ten-year reunion and see a bunch of people who voted me ‘most irresponsible’ in the senior class superlatives? Why should I put myself through that? High school was bad enough the first time around. Who needs to go through it a second time?”

Hazel chuckled. “Oh, come on, Pru,” she said. “Lighten up. It’ll be fun. Aren’t you curious to see how everyone turned out?”

“No,” she answered honestly.

The other woman’s smile turned positively predatory. Oh, yeah. Now she remembered Hazel Dubrowski. Really well. She’d been one of the most carnivorous members of the senior class. In fact, now that Pru thought more about it, she recalled that Hazel had been on the yearbook staff and had been the one who spearheaded the senior superlatives in the first place. And the one who spearheaded the campaign was the one who usually wound up deciding the winners, based on the prevailing winds.

Sure, Pru could see how she might have been viewed as irresponsible back then. But Hazel was the one who would have created the category. And somehow, Pru was certain she’d done it on purpose, just so she could hang the crown of thorns on Pru’s head. And that was because, Pru also remembered now, Jimmy Abersold had asked her to the junior prom, instead of Hazel.

Oh, it was all coming back to her now. Funny, how selective a person’s memory could be about something like high school—until that memory was forcibly jarred by some baaaad karma, like Hazel was bringing with her now.

“Well, I’m sure they’re all anxious to see how you turned out,” she told Pru with a smile that was at first knowing and then suspicious. “And just how did you turn out, anyway?” she asked further. “I mean, it’s one thing to be a nurse, but what else is going on with you, Pru? I kind of always figured you for the type to wind up knocked up and abandoned somewhere.”

Pru felt a cool weight settle in the pit of her stomach at hearing her own words—her own fears—echoed back at her. But even if she had indeed ended up exactly the way Hazel had known she would, Pru refused to capitulate to the other woman’s meanness.

Schooling her features into the blandest expression she could, she replied evenly, “Really.”

Hazel nodded. “Oh, yeah. I imagine most of the class of ’90 assumed the same thing. Even if you were Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes for the most part, someone as irresponsible as you were was bound to wind up pregnant and alone and relying on welfare. It’s just the logical conclusion to make.”

Amazed at her ability to remain civil, Pru repeated, “Really.”

And in that moment she knew she had made the right decision in disregarding the invitation to her ten-year reunion. There was no way she would let her senior class discover firsthand just how right they’d been about her all along. The last thing she needed was for 240 people to laugh and point and say, “Man, it’s even worse than we thought it would be. She really did get knocked up and abandoned.” And worse, “Hey, Pru, we told you so.” And worse still, “We knew what kind of person you were all along, even if you never believed it yourself.”

Hazel nodded again, more adamantly this time. “But, gosh,” she said, “just look at you, all professional in your nurse’s uniform. Maybe you have built a solid, responsible life for yourself. I suppose stranger things have happened. Probably. Maybe. In outer space somewhere.”

A solid, responsible life, Pru repeated to herself, ignoring the sarcasm inherent in the response. She hoped the heat she felt flaming in her midsection didn’t show up in her face.

“I mean,” Hazel went on, as if she sensed Pru’s discomfort and wanted very much to compound it, “for all I know, you’re happily married, and you and your husband have a big, beautiful house right here in Cherry Hill. Hey, for all I know, you married a doctor.” Hazel’s smile, however, indicated what a joke she thought that was. “I can just see you subscribing to the orchestra, the ballet, and the theater,” she went on blithely, clearly not meaning a word of what she said. “You probably spend your spare time volunteering at an art museum or being active in your garden club and your reading group and your cooking club. And your kids are probably all beautiful and smart and going to private school. Tell me I’m right,” Hazel dared her. “Tell me that’s exactly the way you live these days.”

Pru swallowed hard, wishing she could agree with every word that Hazel said. Not because she wanted it to be true, and not because she particularly aspired to such a grand life. But because she knew that once her old classmate found out the truth, Hazel would gleefully recount the situation to every single member of the Easton class of ’90 when she went to the reunion.

Oh, I saw Pru Holloway last month, and she hasn’t changed at all. She’s still totally irresponsible. Got herself knocked up by some jerk who dumped her. Now she’s a single mother struggling to pay the bills on some dinky apartment. She’s probably on food stamps and has credit-card debt out the wazoo. Most likely her kid’ll end up in jail. Then we honest taxpayers will have to pay both their ways through life.

Oh, yeah. She could see it now. Everyone in the Easton High class of ’90 ought to have a lot of laughs at her expense. And even if Pru wasn’t planning to attend herself, she didn’t want her title of “Most Irresponsible” to be perpetuated forever. She hated to be the butt of jokes, even in absentia.

But the fact was, she forced herself to admit, that the label still fit. As much as she had tried to change her ways, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was irresponsible. She always had been. She always would be. She didn’t know why she tried to kid herself otherwise.

There was no husband, no house, no lifestyle of forthright responsibility. There were no subscriptions to the arts—hey, who could afford it? There was no volunteer work—hey, who had time? There were no garden clubs, reading groups or cooking clubs. The closest thing Pru had to a garden was the questionably breathing African Violet on her kitchen windowsill, the one she—irresponsibly—kept forgetting to water. The only books she’d bought in the last year had been about infant care and breastfeeding, and even those she’d only—irresponsibly—skimmed. As for cooking, well…she wondered if microwaving pot pies and Beefaroni on a regular basis counted for anything. Anything other than being totally irresponsible about one’s health.

And then, of course, there was that business about having been knocked up and abandoned, Pru reminded herself unnecessarily. Yep, pretty much the ultimate in irresponsible behavior.

“So just what is your life like these days, Pru?” Hazel challenged her again, smiling in a way that indicated she just couldn’t wait to hear. Mainly because she just couldn’t wait to tell everyone they knew that Prudence Holloway had turned out exactly the way they had all known she would.

Resigned to her fate, Pru opened her mouth to confess.

But she was intercepted by a deep baritone that answered for her, “Her life is pretty much exactly the way you described it.”

She spun around to find Seth Mahoney standing behind her, smiling that incredibly charming smile that made every female in a fifty-foot radius melt in a puddle of ruined womanhood at his feet. Hazel Dubrowski Debbit, Pru realized upon turning her attention back to her old classmate, was no exception. Because she stood gaping at Dr. Mahoney as if he were a great, big, hot-fudge sundae with marshmallows and strawberries on top.

“Who’re you?” Hazel asked, heedless of the lack of courtesy in the command.

He extended his hand toward her and jacked up the power on his smile about a hundred kilowatts. Pru was nearly blinded. And her heart went vah-rooooom. “I’m Seth Mahoney,” he said smoothly, easily, sexily, taking Hazel’s hand in his. “I’m Prudence’s husband.”