to hike over the Alps.”
She’d do it, too; Valerie didn’t doubt that for a moment.
“I was with Dad earlier,” Norah said, changing the subject again. “He was more alert than before.”
Valerie frowned, well aware of the reason. Her dear, manipulative father seemed to think he was about to get his wish. Little did he realize she had no intention of marrying Dr. Colby Winston. Or that Colby was no more interested in her than she was in him.
Four
David Bloomfield’s condition didn’t change throughout the day that followed. Valerie saw Colby intermittently. He was in surgery most of the afternoon and came by, still wearing his surgical gown, to check on her father early that evening. Valerie happened to be there at the time, and she recognized the weariness in Colby’s face. Without saying anything to her father, she trailed Colby out of the room.
“What about a cup of coffee?” she suggested, and when he hesitated, she added lightly, “I thought you might like to know how I warded off the preacher.”
He grinned, then rubbed a hand across his eyes. “All right,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”
Valerie headed downstairs with her briefcase and her laptop. That afternoon she’d had her assistant e-mail the contents of several files to her. Even if she had to be out of the office while her father was ill, there were still matters that required her attention. She’d spent much of the afternoon answering e-mails. Working out of the hospital waiting room wasn’t ideal, but she’d managed.
She was at a table in the cafeteria, reading over some notes on her laptop, when Colby arrived. As he pulled out a chair, she straightened, shut down the computer and closed it.
After a somewhat perfunctory greeting, Colby reached for the sugar canister in the middle of the table and methodically poured out a teaspoon, briskly stirring it into his coffee. “I wanted to apologize,” he began.
His words took her by surprise. “For what?”
“I was out of line, coming down on you the way I did about the marriage business. I should’ve realized your father was stretching whatever you said out of proportion. I took my irritation out on you.”
She dismissed his apology with a shake of her head. “It was understandable. As far as I’m concerned, it’s forgotten.”
His eyes met hers as though he couldn’t quite believe her. “You spoke to him?” he asked abruptly.
Valerie nodded, trying to conceal her amusement. “My poor father was distraught, or at least he tried to persuade me he was. But—” she sighed expressively “—he’ll get over it just as I will.” She fluttered her eyelashes melodramatically, teasing Colby just a little.
His eyes shot to hers, and a slow grin moved across his face, relaxing his features. “Disappointed, were you?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve always dreamed of a traditional white wedding gown—one that matches the sheets on my father’s hospital bed.” She smiled and relaxed, too, feeling at ease with him now. She’d been angry, but that was over, and she had to admit she actually liked this man. She certainly admired him.
Colby sipped his coffee, and once again she noted the lines of fatigue that marked his eyes and mouth.
“Rough day?”
He nodded. “I lost a patient. Joanne Murphy. She died this afternoon in surgery. We knew there was a risk, but …” He shrugged heavily. “No matter how often it happens, I never get used to it.”
“I’m so sorry, Colby.” Her hand slid over to his in a gesture of friendship and support.
His fingers gripped hers as if to absorb the comfort and consolation she offered. At the feel of his hand closing over hers, Valerie felt a thrill of happiness, and even more inexplicably, a sense of rightness. She didn’t know how else to describe it. Yet almost immediately, the doubts and uncertainties flowed into her mind.
They were friends, nothing more, she reminded herself. And very recent friends at that. Neither of them was looking for anything else. Neither of them wanted anything else. But if that was really the case, why would she experience this deep ache of longing? For one impulsive moment she yearned to throw herself into his arms, rest her head against his shoulder and immerse herself in his strength. Lend him hers.
Valerie decided she had to ignore these uncharacteristic sensations. She withdrew her hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice its trembling.
“I’d better get back before Norah wonders where I am,” she said firmly. Valerie knew she was a woman who needed to be in control, who looked at a problem from all angles and worked toward the most favorable solution. But Colby Winston wasn’t a problem to be solved. He was a man who left her feeling vulnerable and confused.
She was already on her feet, briefcase in one hand, laptop in the other, when Colby spoke. “Don’t leave … not yet.” His voice was low, hesitant.
Valerie stared at him, unsure whether to stay or go.
“Oh, never mind.” Colby shook his head, eyes suddenly guarded. “Actually, I should be leaving myself,” he said quickly, bounding to his feet. He drank down several gulps of coffee, then strode out of the cafeteria, with Valerie close behind.
“Colby.” She stopped him in front of the elevator. “What is it you don’t like about me?” The question was out before she had time to analyze the wisdom of asking.
“I do like you,” he answered, frowning.
“But you wouldn’t want to marry someone like me?”
“No,” he agreed calmly. “I wouldn’t want to marry someone like you.”
“Because?” Valerie wasn’t sure why she continued to probe, why it was necessary for her to understand his reasons. She only knew that she felt a compelling urge to ask.
“You have a brilliant future ahead of you,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Your father’s proud of your accomplishments, and rightly so. I admire your drive, your ambition, your ability.”
“But.” She said it before he could. There had to be a but in there somewhere.
“But,” he said with the slightest hint of a smile. “I’m not interested in getting involved with an up-and-coming female executive. When I commit myself to a woman and a relationship, I want someone who’s more … traditional. Someone who’ll consider making our home and rearing our children her career.”
“I see.” He was wise to acknowledge that she wasn’t the type who’d be content to sit quietly by the fireplace and spin her own yarn. No, Valerie would soon figure out how to have that yarn mass-produced, then see about franchising it into a profit-making enterprise. Business was in her blood, the same way medicine was in his.
“I don’t mean to offend you,” he said.
“You haven’t,” she assured him, and it was the truth.
The
