make them your most compelling feature. Knock men off their feet. Especially if you flash them the smile that peeks out every once in a while.”
You’re a pretty woman. The last man to tell her that had been her father on her sixteenth birthday. And Terry a couple of times. But did she dare trust the words? Didn’t men say one thing and mean something else entirely?
Abby felt the heat from Greg’s body envelop hers. She took a breath, and his scent filled her nostrils, spicy and male. She licked dry lips and kept her gaze firmly on his, ignoring the overwhelming desire to step back and gain some distance, some perspective. He was so aggressively male!
Her thoughts whirling, she wondered if she was crazy to let herself even consider following through now that he had agreed.
As if he could read her mind, he leaned closer and cupped her chin in his hand, the warmth stealing into her skin, sweeping through her entire body. Mesmerized by the liquid heat in his eyes, she gazed up at him.
“Don’t back out now, Abigail. We’ll fix you up so good you’ll have to beat the men off with a stick.” Lightly his thumb grazed her lower lip.
The tingling awareness that swept through her from head to toes felt like a small electric shock. Her eyes locked with his and the boutique and his sister seemed to fade, disappearing into a gray mist. There were only the two of them, alone in the world, his breath against her cheeks and the odd, sensuous awareness that seemed to fill every pore.
She’d been dealing with men for years, first the cowboys on her dad’s small ranch, then aspiring doctors, interns, residents and established physicians. But she’d never experienced such a strong physical reaction to any of them.
She had not expected him to touch her. Nor had she expected the flaring sensations that consumed her. What had she gotten herself into?
“Then let’s start with the clothes,” Pam said.
Abby blinked and seemed to come out of a trance. She stepped away. How could she have been so mesmerized by the man? He and she didn’t have a thing in common. Where was this physical awareness coming from?
“I really just came to look,” Abby said, doing her best to ignore Greg, to ignore the clamoring of her senses for more of his touch, more of his attention. Remember his normal manner, she admonished herself. Today was the aberration. Usually he didn’t know she existed.
Still not certain of his motives, she would wait and see how things unfolded. She was not trusting the man—not completely. But then, she didn’t trust any man completely anymore. Not after her experience with Terry, and Jeb.
Chapter Four
By the time Abby returned home, she was excited about the clothes Pam had helped her choose. She had tried on dozens of dresses, skirts and blouses and casual wear. When they found the classical style that she liked, and suited her figure, Pam had brought several dresses into the dressing room that fit like a glove and enhanced the color of her eyes—just as Greg had predicted.
Frowning, she wondered how he’d known so much about women’s attire and what would work. From his sisters? Or from women he dated?
Trying on one of the dresses again, she loved the feel of the soft silk against her skin. When the doorbell rang, she debated taking off the dress before answering, but that would take too long.
“Oh, that’s beautiful. Where did you get it?” Kim asked when Abby opened the door.
“Come in and see what else I got,” Abby said, glad to share her new purchases.
Kim raved over everything, then tilted her head and looked at Abby.
“There’s something different about you. What is it?”
“The clothes, I guess. Nothing else has changed.”
“Maybe. But there’s something.” Kim studied her for a moment then gave up. “I think the dress we bought wasn’t quite right.”
“It was a pretty dress, just not for me. Would you like it? It’s only been worn once.” And the memories of that night insured she’d never wear it again!
“Sure, if you don’t want it. You need to do something with your makeup and hair next,” Kim said, “to go with the new clothes.”
“Someone suggested I get some highlights,” Abby said slowly as she drew the dress over her head. Donning jeans and a casual top, she looked at her friend.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’d be a knockout. Can doctors do that?”
Abby laughed. “What, get their hair streaked?”
“No, start looking fabulous.”
Warmed by her friend’s enthusiasm, Abby laughed at the nonsense. “Afraid all my baby patients will distrust my skills?”
“I guess not. Wait until Jeb sees you. He’ll have a fit and dump Sara like a hot potato.”
Abby paused as she hung up another new dress. “I hope not.”
“What? Did I miss something?” Kim asked in mock surprise as she handed Abby another dress.
“Actually,” she said, turning toward Kim, “I don’t want Jeb.”
Kim sat on the bed and stared at her. “I thought that was what all this was about,” she said, waving her hand around.
“At first. But I’ve been thinking about it and now I don’t want Jeb to change a thing.”
Kim’s eyes narrowed as if she were deep in thought. “Another man?”
“Hardly,” Abby scoffed. But despite her best efforts, the image of Greg Hastings rose. She frowned and resumed her task. She wasn’t even sure she liked the man. She didn’t trust his motives in offering help, and she sure didn’t want to be reminded he’d been her escort at one of the most embarrassing events of her life.
Yet…
Making plans with Kim to go out Sunday afternoon to the movies, Abby finished putting away her things and, once her friend left, prepared a light dinner.
She no longer wanted to knock Jeb off his feet, but the thought of changing her image made her sparkle. It was past time. She’d spent all the years since the end of her relationship with Terry devoted to studying to become a doctor. Now that she’d achieved her goal, it was time to branch out and see what else life had to offer.
Monday flew by with extra appointments squeezed in for those children who had become ill over the weekend.
Tuesday was a disaster. One of Abby’s patients was given the wrong medicine and had an immediate allergic reaction. While she responded to that, appointments stacked up.
Then she spilled coffee on a brand-new skirt and her lab coat and walked around feeling damp all afternoon. Twice she lost her train of thought when listening to consulting physicians regarding treatment for critical patients, and had to ask them to repeat themselves. Both times the frustrated physicians grew
