aren’t allergic to any medications?”
“Not that I know of.”
She could do this. Breeze right through without ever really focusing on what was going on. Just get the information and process it later.
“What about blood type?”
“I have one.”
Startled, Phyllis brought back her wandering gaze to land on him. He was grinning. The effect was devastating.
Phyllis smiled back. “I assumed so. You wouldn’t happen to know what it is, would you?”
“B positive.”
She was A positive, which would be just fine.
And then she ran out of questions.
The waiter finally stopped at their table on one of his many trips past. They gave their lunch order. He was having a burger. She’d chosen the taco salad. After that she just sat. And pretended there weren’t a million things she wanted to know about him.
She could tell herself that she should ask them in order to safeguard her child’s future. But she didn’t. She was a psychologist; she knew those tricks.
She was familiar with the various and often complex rationalizations the mind devised, rationalizations that let you do what you wanted when you knew you shouldn’t. Focusing on the one reason it was all right to proceed while ignoring the four reasons it wasn’t.
Such rationalizations had caught her once—and trapped her.
She wasn’t going to be caught again.
Not by the mind’s devices. Not by her own devices. And not by being vulnerable to the whims of the male ego.
She’d finally gotten beyond the pain of her divorce. Faced reality. Left useless dreams behind. She’d moved to Shelter Valley and found happiness. She loved the town, her work, helping others. She loved the way people in Shelter Valley made her feel. She finally had a life full of true friends and the things that really mattered.
And she had a baby on the way. She couldn’t afford to threaten all of that by doing something foolish—like getting involved with a man who had no place in her new life.
CHAPTER FOUR
MATT HAD NO IDEA how he and Phyllis had ended up sitting on her front step as the afternoon waned. He’d walked her to her door after their trip, she’d asked a question about the presentation he’d helped her with earlier that semester—said she was hoping to have a video made of it for some of her peers who’d attended the symposium. One comment led to another and suddenly, almost an hour later, he became aware of himself sitting there, having a real give-and-take adult conversation for the first time in years.
They still hadn’t broached the reason he’d called this meeting. And he wasn’t sure how, exactly, he should bring up the subject.
“What about dating?” he suddenly blurted as her questions about lighting-design techniques finally dwindled.
“No!” she exclaimed, her shoulders straightening, bringing her breasts into relief against the black velour covering them. “We already agreed there’ll be no involvement between us,” she added with a little less agitation.
Matt could almost feel the effort it took her to appear unaffected. So the good doctor had secrets, too.
“I meant you dating,” he said slowly, wondering just what those secrets might be. “Not us.”
“Oh.” She paused, her shoulders relaxing as she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Well, not that it’s any business of yours, but I don’t.”
“Don’t date?” If he wasn’t so detached, he might’ve been shocked. “Ever?”
“Nope.”
“Why the hell not?”
She pierced him with a look he’d have been hard-pressed not to challenge in another life. “This may come as a surprise to you, but not every woman needs a man in her life to be happy.” Her eyes dared him to argue with her.
“No, I guess lesbians don’t.”
“I’m not a lesbian.”
“I’m fully aware of that.”
She blushed. Looked away.
Matt bit back a grin.
And then quickly sobered as he remembered he wasn’t there to enjoy himself.
“It occurred to me yesterday that this…situation we’ve created makes any relationship you are…or hope to be involved in…difficult. Romantically speaking.”
Smooth, Sheffield. Spit that one right out.
“No problem there.”
“Oh.” Matt nodded, waiting for the relief he was going to be feeling any second. “Good.”
What the hell did that mean—No problem there? That she was in a relationship—one that had moved beyond dating—and the man was willing to take on Matt’s baby? Or that she’d really been speaking of herself and not just hypothetically when she’d said a woman didn’t need a man in her life to be happy?
A family, all wearing helmets and gloves with their sweatshirts and jeans, rode by on bikes, two adult-size and two child-size, one with training wheels. Matt and Phyllis watched silently. He wondered if things were as perfect inside that family’s house as they appeared on the outside.
“So, you really doing okay?” he asked Phyllis as the family rode slowly around the corner and out of sight.
“I really am.”
“You’re sure?”
She turned to look at him, her soft green eyes filled with question. “I’m sure,” she told him. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
Matt shrugged, gazing out at the street. With his forearms resting on his knees, his black leather jacket open, allowing the evening chill to penetrate the thin cotton of his button-down shirt, he contemplated the wisdom of answering her question.
“I guess because I’m having a little trouble with things myself,” he finally said.
A quick sideways glance showed him her frown. Matt focused on the white minivan driving past. A thirty-something short-haired man was driving, a blond woman in the passenger seat. A not-too-tiny hand was plastered to one of the back windows facing them. He’d seen at least one car seat, as well. A family going out to dinner after work?
Or maybe to some kind of ball game? Had that hand in the back belonged to a boy? Was he an aspiring athlete? And if so, did he have any real talent, or were the next few years going to be a real struggle for him?
“What kind of problems are you having?” Phyllis’s question, which sounded almost reluctant,
