as she relived the sensation of running her fingers through…
“You remember my name,” he said, and pushed away from the door.
She stared at his face—the lean lines, defined cheekbones, straight nose and green, green eyes. Everything was the same…except for the tiny lines around his eyes and mouth and the gray in his blond hair. Jean was right; he was fine-looking, even more so than she’d recalled. And he was now a man instead of the boy she had given herself to.
Seeing that he was waiting for an answer, she collected herself. “Of course I remember you.”
I’ll never forget you.
“Earlier you acted as if we’d never met, never…”
He let the unfinished sentence hang between them, and to stop the nervousness in her stomach she slowly took the stethoscope from around her neck and placed it on her desk. She chose her next words carefully. “I didn’t think my colleagues would be interested in my girlish infatuation.”
“Infatuation?” He raised a dark blond eyebrow. “Wasn’t it more than that?”
To me, it was.
But the words that came out of her mouth were “No, I don’t think so. You left and never came back and I got on with my life.” She hated that she couldn’t disguise the bitterness in her voice.
He knew she was lying and trying to hide it. He remembered that about her. She had a hard time lying, especially to her mother. He used to tease her about it. But through the nervousness, he could hear the hurt in her voice. He should’ve gone back. He’d never wanted to hurt her, but he’d gotten so caught up in his own turmoil that he could only think about himself. Looking at her, he regretted that.
He couldn’t help asking, “Did you wait for me?”
Every minute, every hour of every day.
“Of course not,” she denied emphatically.
She was lying again. He could tell by the way she ran her hand along the edge of the desk. He was making her nervous. Why? He just wanted to talk.
The terse chitchat was disconcerting her. She felt as if her emotions were in a blender and someone had pushed the high button and any minute she was going to explode all over the room.
“I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, reaching for her purse. “I’m expected at the hospital.”
Jackson was taken aback by her sudden departure and he was thinking of ways to keep her talking a little longer. He saw a picture on her desk. He walked over and picked it up. It was a family portrait of her parents, herself and another young woman. Her mother had been pregnant all those years ago, and this had to be the baby. Emily had so many problems with her mother’s pregnancy, but judging by their smiling faces everything had obviously worked out.
“This must be your sister,” he said.
“Yes, that’s Rebecca. We call her Becca,” she replied, and swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
Why didn’t he leave? She didn’t want to talk to him.
“She looks like you when you were seventeen.”
“Yes, everyone says that,” she found herself saying. “But her hair is lighter and our personalities are completely different. Becca’s very outspoken and direct. She’s always talking and laughing and getting involved in things that my parents disapprove of. She’s constantly arguing with my mother and—”
She stopped, unable to believe she was telling him all this. For a moment, it seemed like old times when she used to pour her heart out to him.
“Sounds as if she’s a lot like you,” he said, and carefully placed the picture back on her desk.
“In ways I guess we are,” she admitted, knowing that Becca was stronger than she ever hoped to be. Her mother would never be able to force Becca to do anything against her will. Becca was strong-willed and stubborn, and she had her own views on everything. Emily had never been that opinionated or unyielding. She was weak…weak and…
Don’t think about the baby. Don’t think about her now.
“I’ve got to run,” she said in a detached voice. “Is there something you wanted to see me about?”
Again he was thrown by her coolness. She clearly had no interest in talking to him. Had his callous behavior almost two decades ago destroyed any chance of their having a normal conversation?
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I wanted to talk about old times. Maybe take you to dinner.”
A paralyzing fear gripped her, and she fought to maintain her composure, her control. Jackson Talbert wasn’t getting to her again. Talk? Dinner? Absolutely not! She had to escape from him as quickly as possible.
“I’m sorry, I’m too busy, but it was nice seeing you again,” she lied, moving resolutely toward the door.
“Emily?”
Against her will, she halted. It was the way he said her name—soft and persuasive with a deep, husky nuance. It was the same way he always used to say it on the beach, before his lips claimed hers…before he’d kiss her into oblivion…kiss her into forgetting everything but him. How could a voice, a sound, obliterate years of pain, years of hating Jackson Talbert? She didn’t know, but just like that, she felt herself being pulled toward him.
“Aren’t you curious about why I never came back?”
Those words held her spellbound and suddenly she desperately wanted an answer. She turned slowly around.
“Yes, I am,” she said, and she wondered if that low, aching voice was hers.
He smiled and her stomach tied into a painful knot of pure need—something she’d never experienced with any other man. What was she doing? she asked herself. Walk out that door and don’t look back.
Go. Go. Go.
But her feet didn’t move.
Something stronger than herself kept her rooted to the spot. All these years she’d believed that he’d simply used her for a good time, a vacation fling—but maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d had a reason for not returning to her, for not calling. She needed to find out—for her own sanity. She needed to justify what had happened back then. If she could do that, maybe the dreams would stop…. Maybe she could let the memory of her daughter go.
“Good. There’s this little Italian restaurant I go to when I’m in town,” he was saying. “It’s not far from the medical center.” He checked his watch. “We could be there in less than twenty minutes.”
She gripped her purse strap, knowing she was about to take a step that could change so many things. Was she ready? She swallowed. “I really have to go to the hospital first,” she told him. “I can meet you there in two hours.” To her surprise, she made the decision quickly and easily.
“Two hours?” He frowned. “That long?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I
