Читать книгу The Wilders - Mary J. Forbes - Страница 17

Though she told herself she wasn’t, the truth of it was Bethany was looking forward to the fundraiser. However, none of the reasons she’d cited to herself regarding why it was important to attend the function were responsible for creating that warm, nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was only one reason for that.

She was going with the man who had literally made the world fade away when he’d kissed her.

Okay, so he’d kissed her and she’d liked it. Really liked it. But there was no reason, she told herself, to believe anything of that nature was going to happen again. It was an aberration, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Peter Wilder was a healer, not a lover, even though he had a lethal mouth that had melted her like drawn butter.

Professional, she silently insisted—it was all going to be strictly professional. If there was anything she was, it was professional.

She was still silently clinging to this belief, repeating it over and over again like some kind of mantra, as she went shopping for “the right dress.”

It turned out to be a gown, a gown like no other she’d ever owned. The moment she saw it on the alabaster mannequin, she’d fallen in love with the gleaming creation.

Because the gown wasn’t her.

It was the kind of gown that belonged on a socialite, a jet-setter, someone who was accustomed to frequenting parties on both coasts and collecting heady, over-the-top compliments.

Depending on the light, the gown, suspended on two thin gossamerlike straps, was either silver or gray-blue, and when she put it on, it adhered to every curve she had. Moreover, it somehow miraculously awarded her more cleavage than she was accustomed to having and the material swayed provocatively with every step she took. Simultaneously, the material played peekaboo with the slit that ran from her ankle to halfway up her thigh, drawing the beholder’s attention to the fact that whatever other attributes she might possess, Bethany Holloway, former card-carrying ugly duckling, had stunning, killer legs that seemed to go on forever.

Because she was ordinarily governed by more than her share of logic, Bethany put the gown back on the rack three separate times before she finally snatched it up and fairly trotted to the register.

In most cases, the purchase price of the designer gown would have been prohibitive for someone earning the kind of salary she did. But money had never been a problem for Bethany, never the bottom line that proved to be a deciding factor. What her family lacked in warmth and nurturing attributes it made up for with money. Specifically, a trust fund that was passed on through her mother’s family. Martha Royce, her mother’s mother, had been obscenely wealthy. The woman believed in giving her descendents a sizable jumpstart in life, not out of any sort of affection but because she believed her lineage was better than anyone else’s and should be rewarded for that.

Her grandmother died the year before Bethany graduated from college. At the funeral, which included both her parents and Belinda, she was the only one who shed any tears at the woman’s passing.

As she looked at herself now in her wardrobe mirror, Bethany couldn’t help wondering what her grandmother would have said if she’d seen her in this gown.

You go, girl.

Bethany smiled to herself, pressing her hand to her unsettled stomach. If the stories she’d heard about the woman’s youth, mostly through relatives other than her parents, were true, Grandmother had been a rebel and a hell-raiser. She only wished she had inherited a little more of the woman’s spirit instead of her money.

Then, at the very least, she wouldn’t feel as nervous as she did about wearing this gown.

Really, darling, this kind of a gown should be worn by someone who can carry it off, don’t you think?

This time it was her mother’s voice that had popped into her head to haunt her. Her mother who, even when she was seemingly praising her always made Bethany feel as if she were lacking.

Bethany set her jaw, deliberately shutting her mother’s perpetually condescending voice out. She really liked the gown, liked the way she looked in it. She looked, she thought, like someone special.

She fervently hoped she wasn’t just deluding herself.

The doorbell rang, breaking into her thoughts. The next second, she could feel her stomach seizing up and her heart beginning to race.

Maybe this was a mistake. What was she trying to prove? This backless, almost strapless silvery revelry wasn’t her. She belonged in subdued colors, quiet shades that didn’t call attention to all the things she lacked. Her nerves spiked to incredible highs as she looked toward her closet.

But it was too late to change, too late to surrender to second thoughts on their third pass-through. She was going to have to wear this.

Here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Bethany walked out of her bedroom and to the front door on legs she willed to be steady.

Opening the door, she summoned her brightest, most carefree smile—or some reasonable facsimile thereof.

And then she saw him. Peter was wearing a formal tux. God, but he looked handsome.

“Hi,” she heard herself murmur through lips that felt frozen in place.

The next moment, she saw Peter’s dark eyes slowly travel down the length of her before returning to her face. Unable to tell what he was thinking, she held her breath, waiting for the verdict.

He already knew, even if she professed not to, that Bethany was beautiful. But in this dress, she transcended anything that had come before. The word vision didn’t even begin to cover it, but it was the only word his numbed brain would come up with.

Realizing that he was staring, Peter cleared his throat. He was stalling, searching for his voice. There was a very real danger of it emerging in a squeak. She did take his breath away.

When he smiled, she could feel warmth spreading all through her.

“I should have brought my portable defibulator,” he murmured. When she raised a quizzical eyebrow, he explained, “I think my heart just stopped.”

Was he teasing her? Telling her it was inappropriate? Rather than become defensive, she bowed to his experience. This was her first fund-raiser at Walnut River General and she didn’t want to look out of place.

Bethany looked down at her dress. “You think it’s too much?”

He laughed at the innocent question. “On the contrary, I don’t think it’s enough.” He saw the uneasiness enter her eyes and quickly added, “I mean, it’s fine with me, but I’m not sure I’m up on my dueling techniques.”

“Dueling techniques?” she repeated, confused.

He nodded. “The way I see it, I might be called upon several times this evening to defend your honor.”

He was teasing, but in a nice way. Pleasure whispered through her.

Bethany caught her lower lip between her teeth in an unselfconscious, endearing way that just further evaporated his breath. At this rate, he was going to need an oxygen tank before they reached the hotel ballroom.

“I could change,” she offered.

He didn’t see that as an option. She was almost too beautiful to bear. “And break the hearts of every single male over the age of eight within ten miles? I think not.”

So what was he telling her? That he liked the way she looked? Or was he trying to say something else? Bemused, she shook her head. “You certainly know how to confuse a girl with a compliment.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the word she’d used. He would have thought that the term “girl” would have offended her. She was more reasonable than he’d given her credit for. He liked that.

“Trust me, Bethany,” he assured her. “You might still feel like a girl inside, but outside, you are all woman.”

She felt her cheeks warming. This was getting to be a habit around him. She tried to divert his attention from the deepening hue of her skin. “When did you learn to be so charming?”

“About two minutes ago, when you opened the door.”

It wasn’t the answer she was expecting. He definitely wasn’t the stiff, humorless man she’d initially taken him for. Bethany picked up her coat and her purse from the sofa where she’d placed them earlier. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Peter took the long black coat out of her hands and helped her into it. “The same can be said of you. Those two-piece business suits you wear at the hospital don’t begin to adequately convey what’s beneath.”

She tried her best not to glow at the compliment, but it wasn’t easy. “Nice to see you out of a lab coat, too.” Turning around, she looked at him again. His overcoat was open, giving her a full view of the tuxedo he wore. She noticed something else, as well. “You look younger.”

“That could be because tonight, I don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders.” With his hand at the small of her back, he escorted her out the door. Bethany paused to lock her door. Turning, she took hold of his arm before she realized what she was doing. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. He smiled, completing his thought. “Just a beautiful woman on my arm.”

The cold wind carried the scent of another impending snowfall, whipping around, chilling any exposed area it could find.

“About that vision test …” she began playfully as she took small, careful steps to the curb where he had parked his vehicle.

“You should schedule to have one immediately,” he agreed. “You’re obviously not seeing how beautiful you really are.”

Blushing, she slid into the passenger seat and waited for him to round the hood and get in on his side. When he did, she said, “Uncle.”

Seat belt in his hand, he stopped mid-motion and looked at her quizzically. “Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that what you cry when you know you’re outmatched?” Bethany asked. She vaguely remembered hearing that once. “Uncle?”

Peter turned the key in the ignition. After a second, the car started up. He was going to have to remember to check his antifreeze level, he told himself. “Yes, but why—”

She sat back in her seat as they pulled out of the driveway. “I didn’t think that such a person existed, but you can clearly outtalk me.”

He spared Bethany a glance and smiled at her warmly. “Nice to know.”

Just as he’d expected, everyone in the ballroom turned their way when they walked in. Bethany looked far too stunning tonight for people to nonchalantly absorb her into the group without first appreciating every sensual inch of her.

The first to approach them, with the other members of the board not to far behind, was the chairman. The expression on Wallace’s moonlike face was that of extreme pride, as if he’d had a hand in inventing Bethany.

Wallace hadn’t even been the one to hire her. That had been his father’s doing, in order to get the hospital to run more smoothly, Peter thought. At least he could thank his father for something.

An odd sensation undulated through him. It took Peter several moments before he recognized it for what it was: possessiveness.

What was that all about? he demanded silently.

This was just a casual date. No commitments involved. There was nothing for him to feel possessive about.

Yet there it was, this feeling nibbling away at him, leaving tiny grooves in its wake.

As if to prove to himself that this was absurd, that he felt no such attachment, Peter began to step back. To his surprise, Bethany tightened her hold on his arm, forcing him to remain where he was.

This was a new turn of events, he thought. A couple of weeks ago, she would have been relieved to have him go.

“Would you like something to eat?” He leaned forward, whispering the question in her ear.

It was only through the greatest control that Bethany managed to stifle the shiver that shimmied up and down her bare spine in response to the feel of his breath along the side of her neck.

“That would be very nice,” she murmured. Any second now, her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

He continued to linger, to draw in the subtle scent of perfume in her hair and along her skin. “Anything in particular you’d like?

She turned to face him. “Surprise me.”

Damn but he’d like to. He’d probably surprise all of them if he gave in and did what he wanted to: whisk her out of here and back to his house.

Back to his bed.

Lord, when was the last time that he’d even thought like this? Like some knuckle-dragging Neanderthal?

Like a man who longed for a woman?

Peter inclined his head. “All right,” he promised.

He really did need to start socializing more, Peter thought as he made his way over to the buffet table that ran along one wall.

The affair was being catered by a company that was doing it all at cost. It was their donation to the institution that had long treated most members of the owner’s family.

Ella was standing at the far end of the table, contemplating her choices. Despite the clusters of people scattered along the perimeter doing the same thing, for all intents and purposes, Ella appeared to be alone.

Since their father’s death, she’d withdrawn into herself, working at the hospital and then slipping home, spending most of her time alone. Though he would have never pushed her toward it, Peter was glad she’d decided to attend the fund-raiser.

Taking a plate, he queued up behind her. “How are you doing, kiddo?” he asked quietly.

Preoccupied, Ella seemed a little startled as she turned around to look at him. “Oh, Peter, hi.” His question played itself back in her head. “I’m fine,” she replied, keeping her voice light. “I had a slightly tricky procedure today, but I think I handled myself well. It turned out all right in the end. Patient’s doing very well …”

“I don’t mean professionally,” Peter said, cutting in. He deliberately looked down into her eyes. “How are you doing?”

Ella’s shrug was vague and, for a moment, she looked away. She knew what he was asking. Taking the protective covering from her wounds was difficult. But this was Peter, so she forced herself to do it. Because he’d asked.

“It’s hard for me to believe that I’m not going to run into him somewhere in the hospital. That Dad’s not going to come walking around the corner at any minute.” She sighed, making choices from the buffet without really paying attention to the canapés she placed on her plate. “He was bigger than life, you know?”

A few days ago, it would have taken no effort on his part to agree with her because he’d shared that opinion. But now … now it took a bit of doing for him to keep the truth from surfacing. It took effort to nod his head and say, “Yes, I know what you mean.”

Another sigh escaped her lips and she nodded, as if in response to something she’d hypothesized in her mind. “I guess it’s going to take time before things are back to normal for us.”

Here he couldn’t flatly agree. Wouldn’t be able to face himself in the mirror come morning if he didn’t contradict her, because nothing was ever going to be the same again. Not for him. Not for the rest of them if he decided to share the secret.

But this was Ella and his instinctive need to protect her had him tempering his response. “I doubt,” he told her slowly, “that things are going to get back to normal anytime soon.”

Because the hospital staff was all speculating about the possible takeover by NHC, Ella thought he was talking about that. She knew how he felt about it without having to ask.

Ella placed her hand on his and squeezed, offering comfort. He seemed surprised. “Don’t worry, Peter. Northeastern Healthcare isn’t going to come and gobble us up.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he wasn’t referring to that, but then he stopped. It was better this way, better for her to think he was preoccupied about the takeover and not what he’d learned about their father. “What makes you so sure?”

She flashed what he’d always referred to as her thousand-watt smile. “Because we have the great Dr. Peter Wilder fighting our fight for us,” she told him with affection, patting his cheek. “And you’re not going to let anything happen to Dad’s hospital.”

Right now, he couldn’t bring himself to think of the hospital in those terms. “The hospital belongs to all of us—and to the town.”

“Right,” she agreed. “And that’s the way Dad saw it, but I still can’t help thinking of it as his baby.”

“Whether he meant to or not.” The words had just slipped out.

She stared at him, confused. “Excuse me?”

Damn, he was going to have to exercise better control over himself than that, Peter silently chided. “Sorry, my mind wandered for a moment.”

The light of understanding entered her eyes as Ella looked over her shoulder toward Bethany and the circle formed by some of the other board members who were attempting to engage her in conversation.

“I can’t blame you,” Ella said. “She is really a knockout.” And then her gaze returned to her brother. She regarded him with unabashed curiosity. “Are the two of you, you know, involved?”

That was all he needed, for a rumor to get started. He didn’t want that pushing them together. He was already having enough trouble standing on level ground.

“Only in keeping Walnut River General an excellent hospital,” he answered. “The problem is, we have two very different opinions on how that might be accomplished.”

“So I’ve heard.” And then she smiled. “Well, if anyone can change her mind, Peter, it’ll be you.”

She was giving him far too much credit, he thought. “I’m not a knight in shining armor, Ella.”

“Next best thing—a doctor in a brilliant white lab coat.” Ella paused to kiss her big brother’s cheek. “Don’t ever stop being who you are, Peter. I couldn’t stand it if you suddenly changed.”

And how, he wondered, would Ella take the news that her beloved father had changed from an angel to a man with feet of clay? Or, at the very least, that he’d had one fall from grace and then compounded it a thousandfold by never owning up to the truth?

Again he felt the weight of his father’s secret all but bending his back. At that moment, he found himself resenting his father.

“Whoops,” Ella declared, looking toward a far-off corner of the room, “there’s Ben Crawford. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all day for a consult. Excuse me, Peter, but I’ve got to corner him before he gets away again.” And with that, she made her way across the ballroom.

“You look pensive,” Bethany said, coming up beside him. “Ella all right?” And then she added, “You were taking your time with the food and I thought it might be easier if I came to get my own.”

“Right.” He handed her a plate, feeling slightly guilty that he’d forgotten all about bringing her back something to eat the way he’d promised. Talking to Ella had steered his thoughts in another direction. “Ella’s doing as well as can be expected.”

She picked up two stuffed mushrooms, placing them side by side on her plate. “You two seem to have a good relationship. I was watching,” she confessed. “You’re lucky. Both of you.”

The way she said it had him reading between the lines again. “You don’t have a good relationship with your sister?”

“I don’t have any relationship at all,” she admitted. It wasn’t something she was proud of. “We competed as children. After college, we went our separate ways. It’s been more than a year since we spoke.”

He recalled that she’d mentioned her sister worked at a bank in England. “They don’t have telephones in England?”

“Yes.” She put two tiny popovers onto her plate. “And she doesn’t call.”

The woman was too bright to miss the obvious, he thought. But he said it anyway. “Last I checked, phone lines worked both ways. Sometimes all it takes to start the healing process is taking the first step.”

It would take more than that, she thought. “You moonlight as an advice columnist?”

He laughed, then deposited a couple more canapés on her plate before taking some for himself. “All part of being a doctor.”

He meant that. Not for the first time she thought to herself that Peter Wilder was really a very rare man. And, not for the first time, she felt an accompanying little flutter in the pit of her stomach as she thought it. Except that the flutter was getting bigger each time. She was going to have to watch that.