The Back-Up Plan (7 page)

The man represented everything she despised. Too good-looking. Too self-confident. Too domineering. She didn’t want him.

She did not want him.

Oh, God, but she did.

She did. Rather than slapping his handsome face for daring such a bold move, every fiber of her being had reacted to him…had melted into him. For the first time in almost six years, Donna wanted to have wild, mind-bending sex.

She groaned.

A loud tap rattled the window next to her ear. Her breath caught in her throat as she jerked her head up and around. Patty peered at her through the glass.

“Are you okay?”

Taking a moment to compose herself, Donna made a production of checking to see that she had everything before she opened the car door.

“What’s wrong?” Patty stared at her as if she wore a sign that read
Wicked Mommy
.

“Nothing.” Donna shouldered past her. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She felt Patty’s eyes on her back as she entered the clinic. She took her bag to her office and busied herself with checking the setup for patient files. A setup that had already been checked and rechecked.

Patty stood in the doorway, wordless, but watchful. Donna would just have to think of something to tell her. But what? That she and the
Coach
had been making out in the field house? Donna had sworn she would never make this kind of mistake again. And look at her. Hands trembling, knees weak. She was a mess. She slammed the file drawer shut.

“What?” Donna demanded, trying to look innocent.

“Nothing.” Patty lifted a disinterested shoulder. “I just wondered how the emergency at the school turned out. I thought by the way you were acting that maybe somebody died.”

Donna exhaled in self-disgust. That should have been the first thing she told Patty the moment she got out of the car. Deception wasn’t one of her strong points. Otherwise she’d still be partnered with one of Denver’s top physicians—except he was now fighting to stay out of jail.

“Chip Stevens hadn’t been taking his medication properly. He had a seizure which scared the life out of his teammates, but he’s fine.” The only thing, Donna thought with remorse, that died this afternoon was any hope of self-respect she might ever have.

“How did Hank handle the situation?” Patty eyed her with growing suspicion.

“He was concerned, of course.” Donna turned her palms up and gave Patty an exaggerated shrug. “He...he did a good job handling the situation.”

Patty nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

“You know,” Donna grabbed her purse, “I think I’ll call it a day.” She shot her sister a feigned smile. “I’ve got lots to do at home.” Patty stepped aside to let her pass. They exchanged stiff good-byes and Donna flew out of the clinic, leaving her sister to lock up.

She replayed the field house scene over and over in her mind as she drove home. Her excuse being that she needed to understand where she’d gone wrong. The truth was she couldn't remember the last time she’d really been kissed by a man. Since the breakup with Melissa’s father she’d hardly dated. Being celibate the last few years hadn’t been too difficult. At least not until now, anyway.

Why had she reacted so completely out of character to Hank Bradley? She never fixated on a man’s looks. Not that she had dated ugly men, there just hadn’t ever been anyone who looked quite like Hank. Not even Melissa’s father. That was a subject she would not allow herself to ponder. Thinking about Hank would be safer for her mental well-being, or would it?

The thought of his strong arms around her. The feel of his hard body against her. His lips, demanding yet gentle, had set her on fire. Her nipples tightened at the memory of his sensuous kiss. How on earth would she ever face the man come tomorrow?

She wouldn’t face him. That was the answer. Tomorrow Donna would simply send Melissa to school with Patty and her girls. That would give her until Monday to recover.

Monday was three whole days away.

Plenty of time to put her impetuous behavior behind her.

Chapter Four

Saturday morning Hank plopped three one-gallon cans of blue paint on the floor of his classroom. Yes sir, he glanced around the big, quiet room, blue would be a vast improvement. No matter how he looked at it, yellow just didn’t cut it.

Tired muscles complained loudly as he slid a table to the center of the room in preparation for the painting. After tossing and turning for hours both nights, he’d finally gotten out of bed and trudged down to his basement and the personal gym he’d designed just to torture himself. Despite pushing himself to the point of total exhaustion sleep still would not come. The endless hours before dawn had inched by at a snail’s pace with Hank rehashing the act of stupidly disguised as passion he desperately wished he could take back. But he couldn’t.

He pushed another table to the center of the room. He’d just have to live with it. Just like all the other stupid mistakes he had made in his life. Throwing away his big chance as a sports commentator after the knee injury being at the top of that list. Hank could have been another Mike Ditka. What was done was done. No point brooding over lost yards.

Showing again just how hopeless this infatuation with the doc was, he stood in the middle of the room and considered that the kiss he’d laid on her hadn’t felt like a mistake. And it sure as hell hadn’t felt stupid. He rubbed his unshaven chin. Might not have been the brightest move he’d ever made.

“Stop with the obsessing,” he muttered. The only real relief he’d gotten from his obsessive thoughts came during the season’s first football game last night. Coaching the team had taken all his attention for the duration of the game.

The Hornets walked away with an easy victory. A disappointed Stevens spent the game on the bench. Even after the alternate kicker managed to miss his first attempt at a field goal, Hank stood by his decision not to let Stevens participate. He hoped keeping the bench warm would help him remember to take his medication as prescribed.

“Well, well. Such conscientiousness.”

Hank wheeled to face the sound that had him cringing as if somebody had scrapped their nails across the blackboard. The wicked witch of the west stood in his doorway. A shudder of revulsion churned the three cups of coffee he’d downed this morning. What did she want?

Cynthia Masters crossed her arms under her skillfully displayed boobs and moved stealthily toward him like a cat cornering her prey. “If it were anyone but you, Coach, I would be impressed.”

He bristled as she neared him. “What can I do for you, Ms. Masters?”

Hungry eyes moved from his worn jeans to the ragged gray tee-shirt he should have thrown away years ago. Every aching muscle in his body braced for fight or flight.

“Tell me about the incident on the ball field Thursday afternoon.” Like a buzzard, she circled once before stopping directly in front of him.

Damn. He’d hoped she wouldn’t hear about Stevens’ seizure, at least not this soon, anyway. “It was nothing serious. Stevens forgot to take his medication. He’s fine.”

“Nothing serious you say?” A scathing green gaze fixed on his. “So much nothing that you had to call the new doctor.”

God, she made him crazy. When he could stomach it no longer, he turned and strode over to the waiting paint. He picked up a can and set it on the work table. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away. He’d never hated anyone in his life, but he hated her. She rode him constantly. Nothing he did was right. If this had happened to any of the other coaches, she wouldn’t even have noticed.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me the rest of the story?” Annoyance flared in her superior tone as she glided across the room and planted herself right next to him. Cynthia Masters did not like to be ignored.

“Yes.” He dropped the paint lid he’d pried off onto the table and turned to look her square in the eyes. “I called the doctor. I thought it best to be certain the boy was okay.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets. Wringing her neck was too tempting to leave his hands free.

“Why would you let a kid like that on the team?” Her hands on her hips now, she had gone into her I’m-the-boss mode. “He’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Hank tamped down his immediate reaction. She wasn’t going to get to him today. It was Saturday. “I’ve already made Stevens sit out a game for his carelessness. There’s no need to take any further action. Stevens is at no more risk than any other player on the team.”

“And when did you become a specialist on the subject, Coach?”

“I did my research, Ms. Masters,” Hank snapped, before he could catch himself. “I spoke with his parents and his personal physician, all of whom approved his placement on the team.” Dread joined the anger mounting inside him. This was not good. He didn’t want to hear what he knew was coming next.

“I want that kid off the team as of this moment.”

“There’s no need to do that. Stevens is as fit—”

“End of discussion.” She squared her shoulders and tossed him a look that dared him to challenge her supremacy.

And he did. “I won’t take him off the team.”

“Yes, Mr. Bradley, you will do exactly that,” she returned with a defiant smile.

Hank faced her, his hands digging into his own hips now. “I’m the coach, and I have the final say as to who plays.”

Masters snorted a laugh. “Do you really believe that?”

Barely restraining his anger, he tried one last time to reason with her. “Why are you doing this?” He didn’t know why he tried appealing to a sense of decency he knew didn’t exist. “You’d punish that kid just to get back at me?”

“You had your chance to be a team player, but you screwed it up.” A blood-red nail traced the outline of his rigid jaw. He flinched. “You dropped the ball. Didn’t you,
Coach
?”

Fury swept through Hank like flood waters rushing over a low-lying bridge. He shook his head slowly from side to side and pinned her with a threatening glare. “I’m willing to take a lot of crap from you, but I won’t let you do this.”

As big as he was...as close as he was...as angry as he was, the woman was too stupid to be intimidated. A venomous smile slid across the face he had grown to despise.

“And just how would you propose to stop me?”

Hank ran a shaky hand through his hair and tried to calm his runaway emotions. If he opened his mouth to respond to that they both would likely regret it.

“I suppose I could be persuaded to reconsider.” She eased closer.

“Stay away from me.” He backed away, holding his hands up stop-sign fashion. “Just stay away.” He had to get out of here.

He stalked out of the room and down the hall, praying she was too smart to follow.

Bursting through the double exit doors into the bright sunlight, he drew in a big, deep breath. The morning sun felt good on the taut muscles of his face. He braced himself against the shudder that threatened and fought to steady his breathing. She almost pushed him too far this time.

If Cynthia Masters were a man, she would be picking herself up off the floor right now. But she wasn’t a man, she was a woman—his boss. And he would just have to deal with it. If he could only hold out until this term was over, she would be gone. She would have her fancy job at state, and Hank would have peace. But, at this rate, he would probably be out of his mind by Christmas.

The important thing right now was protecting Stevens. One way or another Hank had to make sure Masters found no grounds to force him to drop the kid from the team.

~*~

Sun filtered through the kitchen window and spilled across the table. Enthralled by the play of light, Donna savored her morning coffee. The quiet was soothing. Gave her a few minutes to plan out her day. Melissa hadn’t come downstairs yet. Maybe she would entertain herself until Patty arrived. Patty planned to take Melissa along with her girls shopping for the day. Not having a five-year-old underfoot would certainly make getting some of this painting done a lot easier.

Scanning the faded pink walls and dingy white cabinets, the kitchen was clearly the place to start. Lucky for her budget, a lot of scrubbing and painting would whip this old house into an acceptable condition in no time at all. Patty and Sam had already refurbished the exterior as a housewarming gift. They’d offered to do more but they’d already done too much.

Donna sighed as she surveyed her check register and dwindling bank balance. Most everything she had raked and scraped over the past few years had gone into buying and updating the clinic. Despite her sister’s objections, she insisted on paying rent on this house until she could afford a down payment for an official mortgage.

For now she and Melissa were okay. She prayed the clinic would be a success.

“An overnight success would be nice,” she declared to the big, empty kitchen as she pushed away from the table. But she knew better than to hope for that kind of return on her investment.

Donna tossed her reconciled bank statement into a drawer and deposited her empty cup into the chipped porcelain sink. It would take time to build a patient list, and time was her enemy. Staying afloat until business grew steady would require some very skilled financial maneuvering and more luck than she had ever been known to possess in the past.

Case in point, the Denver debacle. She’d barely come out of that federal investigation with her license intact. Her idiot partner had committed insurance fraud over and over for the past two years. When that hadn’t been enough to sustain his preferred lifestyle, he’d started over-prescribing pain medication to patients. Donna had missed the insurance issues, but she’d caught him red-handed in the drug scandal. He’d taken off one too many afternoons to play racquetball or golf, leaving her with his patients as well as her own. The need to flex those jock muscles was his downfall.

The hardest part for Donna was the stain it had left on her name. Though she was completely innocent in the charges, no one wanted her joining their practice. Maintaining a practice on her own would have been financially impossible in a big city. She’d had no choice but to figure out a plan b. What she didn’t know was that Patty had plotted this back-up plan years ago. She’d always intended to have her sister close by again. Deep down Donna had longed to be closer as well.