Deliver Me (13 page)

Blackmail. That’s what it was. But putting the rightful name to his
scheme was not going to stop him. This was too important, and wasn’t as if he
would be the only one to benefit. If everything worked out he, Monica, and the
Parenting Center could come out smelling like roses.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Monica said.

“It’s nothing to get worried about. I just thought of a way we can be of
mutual assistance to each other.”

“How is that?” Monica asked, the leery contemplation in her gaze making
Eli want to smile. She was perceptive; he’d give her that.

“Are you seeing someone?” he asked.

She barked out a laugh. “That’s none of your business.”

“Are you or aren’t you,” Eli persisted.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Like I said, I have a proposition for you.”

She crossed her legs and folded her hands over her propped knee. “Just
because I haven’t been entertained enough today, I’ll bite. Exactly what is
your proposition, Dr. Holmes?”

Eli looked into her eyes, taking a deep, self-assuring breath. This was
not going to be easy, but it was his best chance.

“You want to impress Slessinger, right?”

“I want to help save the Parenting Center,” she countered.

Eli waved off her declaration. “Yeah, yeah. That’s a given. I’m talking
about the little something extra—to use a Louisiana term, the lagniappe.
You want to get in good with Slessigner.”

“I’m not trying to suck up or anything,” she said with that defensive
edge he’d heard more than once today.

“Did I say that?” Eli asked, feeling a little defensive. Eli checked
himself before continuing. He had to be smart about this. The last thing he
wanted to do was antagonize her.

“Look, Monica, there’s nothing wrong with trying to make a good
impression. It’s smart. Doing a brilliant job with the banquet is just the type
of thing that can set you apart from the rest.”

“You make it sound so calculating. Like a sleazy scheme or something.”

No. What he was about to suggest was a sleazy scheme.

“Forgive me. Apparently I’m not getting my point across as eloquently as
I had hoped. All I mean to say is that I don’t blame you for wanting to stand
out, and if you believe pulling off this banquet is the thing that will do it,
then I want to help.” Her eyes lit up like a candle in a room that had stayed
darken for a hundred years. Eli knew his next statement would dim them a
little. “Provided, of course, you help me.”

The leeriness returned, along with caution in her voice when she asked, “How
so?”

If he didn’t execute the next minute as deftly as possible, he might as
well start shopping for a tuxedo and applying for his license as an herbal
obstetrician.

“I need a girlfriend.”

Eli waited for a reaction, but there was none. She just sat in her chair,
legs still crossed, knee slightly bobbing up and down. He was about to ask if
she’d heard him when she said, “I’m waiting for the punch line.”

Eli shook his head. “No punch line. I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, Dr. Gardner, I most definitely am.”

“Do I look like a fool? You don’t date doctors,” she remarked. “I’ve
heard it more than once. You will not be seen in a romantic light with any
doctor.”

Eli shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, so?” She looked at him as if he’d grown an extra set of limbs. “Then
why do you all of a sudden need a girlfriend, especially one who happens to
be
a doctor?”

Eli decided to tell her the truth. His plan didn’t have a chance if
Monica was clueless to the motives behind it.

“Because my mother is campaigning for a daughter-in-law,” he stated, “And
I don’t like the candidate she’s chosen.”

“And exactly what does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.” Eli was ready to pull out
all the stops.

“You’re not serious.”

“You have to know my mother to realize just how serious I am. My old
girlfriend from high school is back in town—”

“And your mother has it in her head that the two of you are meant for
each other,” she finished for him.

“I could be with a fortune-teller, my mother could not care less. As long
as one of her sons has a beautiful woman on his arm at my cousin’s wedding, she’ll
be happy.”

“If the only requirement is someone who’s breathing, why are you asking
me? I’m sure you could find someone in your repertoire of women to fit the bill.”

“
I
don’t want just anyone. I’ve
got a standard.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, sounding anything but. She stared
at him as if she were really considering his proposition. Then she said, “This
is crazy. I doubt your mother would believe you were actually dating a doctor,
especially if your rule is as steadfast as I’ve been led to believe.”

The added edge to her voice had Eli thinking she was upset by his rule.
Now wasn’t
that
interesting.

“My mother doesn’t know anything about my rule, which really isn’t a rule
at all,” he lied. “It’s a rare occasion that I’ll even bring a woman around my
mother, so she has no idea who I date. But she’s getting tired of it. Mama
hates to lose.”

“What does your love life have to do with your mother losing?”

Eli sighed. Divulging the ridiculous familial trait might turn her off
even more, but he needed to be honest, right? “There is a competitive streak
running through my family the size of the Mississippi River,” he explained. “My
brothers and I have always been in competition, and we get it directly from my
mother. When Mama and Aunt Lydia get together, it’s like two lionesses. They’re
constantly bickering over whose got the best new piece of African art, or the
flashiest Sunday church hat.

“And, don’t get me started on whose children are the better successes, at
both job and family. Mama’s winning the battle on the job part, but family is
another thing. My cousin Kathleen is the last of Aunt Lydia’s children to get
married. So, you can imagine how Mama feels with three single sons.”

“Isn’t one of your brothers married? The one with the daughter?” she
asked, motioning to Jazzy’s picture on his file cabinet.

“Alex is a widow.”

“So now your mother is on a mission to see you married?”

Eli nodded. “Or, at least with a prospect. The fact that she’s trying to
push Tosha down my throat is a testament to just how desperate she is.”

“But I’m not a true prospect.”

“That won’t matter. Mama will just be happy to see me with someone. And
if she thinks we’re serious about each other, that’s gravy.”

“You’re willing to lie to your mother?”

“Yes,” Eli answered,
without compunction. “If it means I won’t get suckered into going out with
Tosha Culpepper, then, yes. I will lie, cheat, and do whatever else is
necessary to make sure that does not happen. Including,” he stared into her
eyes, “doing all I can to make your banquet a success.”

“Can’t you just tell your mother no?”

“How bad do you want to impress Slessinger?” He could tell by the look in
her eye that she wanted it
really
bad.

“You cannot be serious,” Monica said.

“Like I said before, I am extremely serious.”

“I can’t do this,” she said after a pause, which made Eli think she’d
actually contemplated it. That’s all the incentive he needed. He pressed
harder.

“Why not? Give me one good reason.”

“I don’t have to give you anything,” she said defensively.

“Think about it, Monica. What would be the harm? We could both get what
we want.”

She didn’t trust him. Eli could tell by the uneasiness radiating from her
across the span of his desk. He couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes,
Eli wouldn’t trust himself either.

“How long would we have to pretend?” she asked, softly, shocking the hell
out of him. Impressing Slessinger must be more important to her than he had
guessed.

“The wedding is the second weekend in November.”

“That’s three months.”

“It is. Would you be willing to put up with me for that long?” he asked,
unable to keep the grin from forming at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ll agree to all my plans for the banquet?”

“Absolutely, if you think they’ll work. I am your willing servant, Dr.
Gardner.”

She gave him that look again, the one that said she trusted him about as
much as she trusted a politician who moonlighted as a used car salesman.

“Fine.” She stuck out her hand, and Eli almost expired from relief. “You’ve
got yourself a deal, Dr. Holmes.”

“Watch it!” Monica snapped. “Sorry,” she said to the orderly wheeling a
very pregnant woman onto the elevator.

She had been in such a God-awful mood today. It wasn’t her fault. She was
suffering from fatigue-fueled crankiness. The amount of sleep she’d gotten this
past week could be measured in a teaspoon.

Instead of sleeping, she’d spent most of her nights trying to figure out
when, exactly, had she turned insane. Only someone delusional would have
accepted Elijah Holmes’s proposal. It was simply unexplainable.

But now that she had agreed to it, how could she back out? Especially
since she had spent the hours when she wasn’t contemplating the sudden lost of
her good sense thinking about all they could do with the banquet. She’d
envisioned the entire night, from the food they would serve, to the playlist
for the band.

She’d had vivid dreams about the bachelor auction, or, she should say, a
certain bachelor. Monica had no doubt Eli could bring in a thousand dollars
just with his smile. Offer up the rest of him for bidding and they could keep
the center open for eternity. Too bad he was staunchly against taking part in
the auction.

Monica spotted him at the nurse’s station. He jotted something on a form
and handed the clipboard across the desk to the board nurse. Monica tried not
to notice the way his scrubs stretched across his well-chiseled chest.

God, she was pitiful.

“We need to discuss the banquet,” she said without preamble.

“Hello to you, too, Dr. Gardner.”

“Good morning,” she said with acceptable contriteness. “Is this a good
time to discuss a few of my ideas for the banquet?”

“Do you mind if we do it over lunch?”

Monica’s inner alarm automatically went off. She looked at the clock on
the wall. It
was
lunchtime. The man
was hungry. That’s all. If she continued to read little innuendoes into every
suggestion he made, she would drive herself crazy. The safest thing was to keep
her mouth shut about anything not concerning the banquet, at least until she
had more time to think over all of this.

“I can introduce you to the menu at Ethel’s,” Eli offered. “I promise it’ll
be better than the macaroni surprise you had in the hospital’s cafeteria.”

“The pasta wasn’t so bad,” she lied.

He initialed his last chart and passed it to the nurse. He crossed his
arms over his chest, a playful glint sparkling in his gorgeous brown eyes. “That’s
because you’ve never had Ethel’s crawfish pie and homemade carrot cake.”

“Carrot cake does sound better than green Jell-O.”

“You are going to forget the way to the cafeteria.”

Ethel’s Cajun Café was wall to wall with customers. Tiny,
but cozy, with oak-paneled walls and mismatched table and chair sets. The spicy
aroma suffusing the air caused hunger pangs to quake through Monica’s empty
stomach. She didn’t need to see a menu, just bring her one of everything.

The restaurant’s consumer base seemed to be mostly doctors in white coats
and scrubs. Monica recognized a few of the faces. She waved at Patty, who sent
her a conspiring wink. Monica shook her head, but Patty had already gone back
to her conversation.

“People are going to talk,” she said as Eli pulled out her chair.

“They do that already,” he answered, sitting opposite her.

“Yes, but now they have reason to.”

He rested his forearms on the table and leaned in close, “Actually, they
don’t, but we could give them something to talk about if you really want to.”

Monica found it impossible not to return his grin. “You must have some
innate flirting instinct. It just happens automatically, doesn’t it?”

He pretended to mull over his answer, “Yeah, pretty much.” Eli opened the
menu the waitress had just placed in front of him. “So, what ideas do you have
for the banquet?”

Monica was momentarily caught off guard at his swift change in attitude.
He went from playful flirt to all business in nanoseconds.

“I’ve been thinking about a venue,” she said. “Where was last year’s
banquet held?”