Come Back To Me (14 page)

Still staring at James, Cara cleared her throat and dragged her eyes away from his face. “Good morning, gentleman. As Dr. Marsh said, I’m Cara and I am one of the student assistants. I work with Jeanie Anderson, our program director.” She turned towards the two men near the coffee pot. “You are?”

“William Donovan,” said the doctor in the scrubs, extending a friendly hand in her direction. Cara shook it firmly, back in control.

“Dr. Ezra Payne,” said the second man. The hand he extended was limp, his handshake less than enthusiastic. He set his coffee cup down and crossed the room on long, thin legs. “Dr. Marsh, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Is there a problem, Dr. Payne?”

Dr. Payne didn’t mince words. His voice was harsh. “I had no idea when I volunteered for this project that I would be reporting to a student assistant, let alone a woman. I thought you were in charge of this project.”

Dr. Marsh’s face flamed with anger, while Cara’s turned just as red, but with embarrassment. She noticed Dr. Donovan trying hard not to laugh.

“Could we step outside for a moment please, Dr. Payne? Excuse us, Cara, gentlemen.” Dr. Marsh left the room, Dr. Payne close on his heels. The door shut behind them.

“Yeah, he’s a pain all right,” William Donovan said. “Don’t take it personally. He treats everyone like that. Dr. Marsh will chew out his ass and he’ll do his job. He won’t be happy about it, but he’ll do it.”

“Thank you for saying that,” said Cara, grateful for his good humor.

“Cara.” The voice belonged to James.

She turned abruptly. It had been two and a half years. As she watched, he lazily pushed himself away from the table and approached her. He took both of her hands in his and held them. If it had been any other man, Cara would have pulled away, but she couldn’t pull away from James. She stared into his eyes. She saw the same amusement she’d seen when she entered the room, but there was more,
male admiration, male interest
. Not something she had ever expected to see in his eyes or had even allowed herself to imagine. If James was smart, he’d leave her alone. If she was smart, she’d let him.

“You two know each other?” William’s voice came from behind her.

“Yeah,” answered James, still holding her hands. “Yeah, we do. We’re old friends.”

“How-how are you?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look . . . fine,” he replied grinning at her. “You look very . . . fine.”

“Hey,” said William. “Knock it off, Mack. I was hoping for a chance.”

“Not on your life,” said James, his eyes focused directly on Cara’s face. “She doesn’t date residents.”

William guffawed. “And that makes you?”

“A volunteer, pure and simple.”

Dr. Marsh and Dr. Payne reentered the room. Pulling her hands free, Cara whirled around, her cheeks still hot. Cara hoped Dr. Marsh would assume she was flushed because of Dr. Payne’s comments, rather than from the overwhelming, heart-pounding excitement she’d felt when James had taken her hands and looked into her eyes.

Cara had buried any feelings, any desire to have a relationship with a man long ago. She’d shut down that part of herself the day she’d been dragged to the mental hospital. Since that day, since Rick, the only man she’d let come physically close to her was James and even then, the contact had been brief and necessary. She trusted him, but she didn’t know if she could trust herself not to do something stupid. Stupid was her pattern.

“I think we’ve settled everything, Cara,” said Dr. Marsh. “Why don’t you go ahead and explain what happens at the testing site, how we screen our subjects, the instructions we leave with them and what might be expected of the doctors. I’ll be in my office.” He shot Dr. Payne a last look of warning before he disappeared down the hall.

Cara began by thanking the three doctors for their willingness to volunteer for the project. She explained the screening process and discussed the typical questions patients might ask. She ended with instructions about where and when to meet the vans on Saturday morning—the vans that would take them to the VFW Hall in Pella—and she handed them printed information about the drug. When Cara finished, Dr. Payne stalked off without a word. Cara couldn’t help but glance at James. Despite her embarrassment, her mouth turned up when she saw that his broad shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. William Donovan, just behind him, was actually laughing out loud.

“Don’t feel singled out for special treatment, Cara,” William said. “You should have seen the look on his face when one of the nurses asked him to get a rectal temp. I thought his brains would blow out his ears. The nursing staff knows how he is and they love to get a rise out of him.”

Cara smiled at him over James’ shoulder.

He shot a quick sideways glance at James. “So, this thing about not dating residents, is that true or is Mack here just acting like your big brother?”

“I don’t date,” Cara answered, looking at James. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Donovan. Goodbye, James. I’ll see you both on Saturday.”

Cara turned on her heels and strode out of the room with what she hoped passed for confidence. Inside she trembled. She could still feel the warm pressure of James’ hands around hers.

∗    ∗    ∗

“Damn.” William whistled long and low after Cara had gone. “She is something.”

“She’s not for you,” said James.

“Why the hell not?” William’s tone was flippant.

“Because to you she’d just be a fling. Cara’s not that kind of girl.”

William seemed to consider James’ words. “She may not be
that
kind of girl but she’s certainly
my
kind of girl, unless you have a prior claim on her, of course. And since you’re a year ahead of me . . .” William gave him a big grin. “I’d certainly defer to you.”

James didn’t answer.

“Do you, Mack? Do you have a claim on her?”

“Maybe,” said James. “Maybe I do.”

J
ames had the afternoon free. After the unexpected encounter with Cara, he found himself in need of distraction. He crossed the river and walked up the hill to Prairie Lights Bookstore.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind. He wondered if he had the right to say anything more to Cara, to do anything more, the right to touch her again.

How he wanted to touch her again.

He perused the shelves, not really seeing the books. My god, Cara was striking, but then he’d been aware of that from the first. Years ago he’d felt the urge to protect her, to rescue her. He still had that same feeling, the sense that he should protect her, but she wasn’t a girl anymore. That fact had smacked him in the face the minute she stepped through the door to the conference room in her tight gray skirt and her tailored white blouse and those high heels.

Cara claimed she didn’t date. No surprise there. If he were in her shoes he would be cautious around men too. She’d known more than her share of misogynist jerks. But he wasn’t like that. He adored women. He didn’t like the thought that a woman like Cara might spend her life alone. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. She should be loved.

How old is she now,
he wondered,
twenty-one?
With her hair up she looked older and it was hard to tell. He tried to remember how old she’d been the last time he’d seen her.
Seventeen, or was it eighteen?
He guessed she was around twenty-one while he was almost twenty-eight. When Cara had been seventeen, the age difference had been a chasm. Now seven years seemed insignificant. She had appeared mature this morning and so confident that in fact it seemed as if there wasn’t much of an age difference between them at all.

James wondered if she was as confident as she looked or if she was putting on a show. He remembered Cara had always been good at hiding her true feelings. But the color he’d seen in her cheeks when she’d looked into his eyes wasn’t a show. That was the real deal. She’d blushed when he took her hands and she hadn’t pulled away. That alone spoke volumes.

What happened to Randy?
James had no idea whether or not Cara ever told the police who had attacked her. He hadn’t gone back to find out, and he hadn’t seen Debbie again. He’d called her, ending their relationship over the phone and he’d mailed back her key. It wasn’t the most courageous thing he’d ever done, and he wasn’t particularly proud of himself. He cringed when he thought of the hurt he’d caused her, but something had shifted in that relationship and he wasn’t interested in seeing her.

Debbie had probably provided Cara with a list of psychiatrists regardless of what she thought of him, because that’s the kind of person Debbie was.

Cara hadn’t seemed plagued by anxiety this morning. Payne had thrown her a curve, but she’d carried on like a professional. James wondered what her major was. He doubted very much she was premed. She’d always been interested in art. Well, he’d do his best to find out on Saturday. He was glad there would be other people around. Their presence would keep him from coming on too strong. That was last thing he wanted to do with Cara. He remembered very clearly how fragile she’d been the night he’d left her in the hospital two and a half years before.

James turned over one book after another without focusing on a single cover. His lack of concentration frustrated him, but he knew the source. The instant he’d seen Cara this morning he felt a stirring in the very marrow of his bones.

So what if he wanted her? James had absolutely no idea how to go about getting her or even if he should. He could seduce a woman with the best of them. He’d spent years perfecting his techniques, sensing when he should hold back and when he should make a move. Understanding exactly how much to put into a kiss and how and when to leave a woman wanting more. He knew instinctively when a slow and sweet approach was called for, or if a woman just plain wanted him—now.

Every woman he’d been with had meant something to him. They just didn’t mean something to him for long. Cara was a different animal altogether. He couldn’t do that to her. Seduce her, enjoy her and move on. Like he’d warned William, she wasn’t that kind of girl. Her presence was a complication he hadn’t planned on. He was leaving for Durham, North Carolina, at the end of August to begin a Cardiology Fellowship at Duke.

Damn, he should leave well enough alone.

James returned the book to the shelf and headed towards the door. That’s when he saw it taped to the window, the poster advertising a student art show.
The Body Beautiful, Watercolors by Cara Franklin.
Today was the last day of the exhibit. James stared for a moment; then he abruptly tore the poster from the window and left Prairie Lights. He strode back toward the river and the bridge that led to the art building.

∗    ∗    ∗

Cara finished up with her phone calls and left the office early. She had a full afternoon of classes and she wanted some studio time. There was a face she needed to paint. The image of a man’s face was stuck in her head, James’ face. She hadn’t been able to get the sight of him leaning against the table out of her mind. She hoped if she put him on paper she could gain some perspective, put some distance between James and the direction of her thoughts. Maybe she could view him with the same clinical detachment she viewed all her subjects.

There was no disguising, even to herself, the immediate attraction she’d felt. She’d seen the same interest in his eyes. She also recognized the danger. What if she acted on her attraction? What if she opened herself up and he crushed her? What if he saw what she tried so hard to hide? That she was tainted. Dirty. What if she dropped her defenses, exposed her inner self, warts and all, and he rejected her? Cara didn’t know if she could survive that. Not with James.

What had happened with Randy was awful, but she’d moved beyond that low point in her life, at least to the extent that she could. Randy’s behavior was what she’d come to expect from men—no more, no less. Fortunately after that night, Randy had kept his distance. Besides, she’d completely stopped using drugs and last she heard, he’d moved to Omaha. The police never learned the truth and she kept her mother in the dark. Life was easier that way.

James was not just any man. He was another animal altogether. Cara cared what James thought of her to the very depths of her soul. He was a good man. He was intelligent, articulate, courageous and determined. He was beautiful in an intimidating masculine way, but she also had vivid memories of his kindness and the gentle way he’d treated her. James respected women and he deserved her trust.

On the other hand, Cara wasn’t certain she deserved a man’s kindness or respect.

Feeling her heart pound in her chest as she ran up the stairs to her apartment, Cara hoped to God she wasn’t about to have an anxiety attack. She called up her trigger word and a semi-hysterical laugh escaped her. It was
James
in the flesh.

She checked the clock. Damn, she needed to get a move on. Cara kicked off her shoes, tossed her skirt and blouse on the bed, and she pulled on her favorite old faded jeans with the holes in the knees and the rip in the back pocket.