Читать книгу Pregnant Nurse, New-Found Family - Lynne Marshall - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

ON FRIDAY night at ten, Gavin drove his car to the front of the Venice Beach Teen clinic and parked. An old school chum of Patrick’s had invited him to spend the weekend in Irvine, so Gavin was free. He needed a diversion from his inhumanly busy schedule and, having the night to himself, he looked forward to spending it with Bethany.

When he’d spotted her at the party last month, vibrant and appealing, he’d felt oddly energized by her spirit. This sweet young thing didn’t deserve his usual post-divorce routine of hard work, easy loving, then saying goodbye. Now, with Patrick living with him, those days were officially over. He’d changed for his son’s sake, and he didn’t need a woman complicating things between the two of them. So why was he parked outside of a clinic in a bad part of town, looking forward to taking her for a drink?

Maybe because something more than sex had passed between Bethany and himself. It had started with a shock of a kiss that had reached inside and grabbed him. The electricity had been so fierce that he’d considered checking to make sure they hadn’t been standing in water. Later, short-circuit sparks had turned into an all-out fire when they’d had sex. The way she’d surrendered to his touch, made him realize how special they had been together. It wasn’t everyday you found someone as responsive as that. Tonight he hoped to get to know her to find out if his hunch was right—that she was a woman a man could fall for.

He gave an ironic laugh. Wasn’t it just like life to dump the first woman in ages he’d really been intrigued by into his lap after he’d promised to be the father Patrick had never had but always deserved? And if he and Bethany did click tonight, how was he supposed to handle dating and Patrick?

He sat in the darkness of his car and watched a group of five young adults leave the clinic in a straggly line. Their clothes ran the gamut from black, gauzy gothic to pullover preppy sweater to the new retro 1980s rock-star hairstyle, wrinkled T-shirts and skin-tight jeans. What was little Miss Florence Nightingale up to? And why did he find her so damn intriguing?

He hopped out of the car and crossed the street to meet her in the lobby. Her slim figure appeared in the foyer just as he reached the front door of the clinic. The bright fluorescent glow threw a halo around her soft honey-colored hair. He let out an amused chuckle at the image. She’d acted anything but angelic the night they’d met.

Instead of smiling when he approached, her eyes widened and she took a deep breath before she locked up the office. She didn’t exactly look happy to see him.

Beth was the first to speak. “Feel like taking a walk? It’s probably beautiful at the beach tonight.”

“What happened to ‘Hi, honey, I’m home. How was your day?” ’

She gave him the requisite brief laugh for his sorry attempt at humor, but she still looked anxious. And it was beginning to rub off on him.

On impulse, he tugged her close and pecked her on the cheek. “Hi, honey, I’m home.” He inhaled her scent, peaches and vanilla, good enough to eat, then led her out the front door. “Would you rather take a walk than have a drink?”

“Well…” Looking flustered from the kiss, she brushed hair away from her face. “We could stop at the corner store and buy a couple of sodas and do both.”

They crossed the street. He opened the door and held it for her as she slid into the passenger seat. “I don’t want to accuse you of being cheap, but you’re easy on the pocketbook, Bethany. Not that I’m complaining.” He circled the car and got inside.

“It’s been a stressful week. I’m just thinking I could use a walk, if you don’t mind.” So far she’d managed to evade making eye contact with him.

“Whatever the lady wants. The sea breeze might do me some good, too.” He started the engine, liking the idea of a sultry beach walk with Bethany. Maybe it would help her shake those tense vibes she was giving off.

He pulled out from the curb into the boulevard bustle. Headlights from oncoming traffic illuminated the interior of the car and he glimpsed her expressive almond-shaped eyes watching him. She definitely looked anxious and quickly looked away. As she hadn’t said another thing, he’d start things off with small talk. “So, what do you do at the clinic?”

She cleared her throat. “Two nights a week, I’m an STD counselor for teenagers.”

He sputtered a laugh. Just his luck, she was a sexually transmitted disease counselor, and she’d probably preach about it non-stop. “A safe sex crusader, are you?”

“I do my best.”

“Does anyone listen?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is that enough?” Hmm. She’d probably just come from the clinic that Friday night last month, too. They’d used protection, and she’d been the one to produce it.

“Enough? It has to be. They sure don’t pay me much.” She smiled. “This counseling job comes with small rewards, not huge successes.” She tossed him a brief, resigned glance and returned to looking out of the passenger window.

Had he done something wrong? He liked the way things had started out between them at the party. Though he hadn’t exactly been a gentleman where Bethany was concerned, tonight he’d planned to begin making up for it, if she’d give him a chance.