Practice Husband. Judith McWilliams
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ones, too. Sometimes, information could be more important than a prescription—a fact that father had instinctively known. Not that his insight appeared to be doing him much good.
Addy frowned thoughtfully as she pushed open the doors to the factory’s main offices. She was at loose ends at the moment. She had intended to see if she couldn’t do some volunteer work for one of the various social agencies in town, but maybe she wouldn’t have to go that far. It appeared to her that there was real need right here for someone with her skills. The plant needed a children’s clinic. She could include regular checkups and classes dealing with various children’s health issues.
If Joe would let her do it. Reality put the brakes on her enthusiasm. He might not be willing to let her use the facilities of his clinic. He might not want to upset his nurse by bringing in someone else.
Addy chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. She didn’t know what he would say, but she did know that the very worst thing that would happen would be that he would say no. In which case, she wouldn’t be any worse off than she was. And he might well say yes. Joe was such a strange mixture of hardheaded cynicism and caring, it was impossible to tell what his reaction to her request might be.
“Ah, Miss Edson.” The immaculately groomed receptionist gave her a bright, professional smile. “Mr. Barring-ton said that you would be stopping by this morning. He said to send you right through to his office.”
“Thank you.” Addy resisted the impulse to check the front of her lemon-yellow shirt for dirt smudges. She wondered how long it took the woman each morning to achieve such polished perfection. It was probably an inherited trait, she thought glumly, like being born with musical ability.
Addy started down the hall, her footsteps unconsciously quickening at the thought of seeing Joe. She entered the reception area outside his office, pausing when she realized that she wasn’t the only person waiting.
There was a thin, harassed-looking man who appeared to be in his late thirties sitting in a brown leather chair. His head was bent, and he was staring fixedly at the design in the Oriental carpet. His shoulders were hunched defensively as if he were expecting a blow, and Addy’s soft heart was touched. Poor soul, she thought, and went over to sit down across from him, intending to distract him from his obviously unhappy thoughts.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully.
The man jumped and gave her an uncertain smile.
“It hasn’t been, so far,” he muttered. He glanced worriedly at the door to Joe’s office and then down at his watch. “What time is your appointment with Barrington for?”
“Well, I don’t actually have one,” Addy said. “I’m just here to sign a few papers. Is he running late?”
“That’s one way of putting it. My appointment was for almost an hour ago.” He sighed despondently. “Which probably means that he isn’t all that interested in our meeting.”
“Not necessarily. Maybe he got an overseas call. Or maybe he spilled coffee all over his suit and he had to send it out to get cleaned and he’s waiting for it to come back.”
Which would mean that he was sitting there in his underwear, Addy thought, as her mind followed her nonsense through to its logical conclusion. What kind of underwear did Joe wear? The tantalizing thought drifted through her mind. Silk boxer shorts? Soft and smooth and eminently touchable? Or perhaps plain white cotton briefs that would fit snugly over his—
The man’s chuckle broke into her erotic thoughts, and she blinked, refocusing on the man.
“Thank you, Miss—” He paused expectantly.
“Edson. Addy Edson,” she responded, rather surprised at how easily she’d handled the move from stranger to introduced stranger. Of course, there was nothing even remotely sexual in their encounter, she conceded. But even so, any conversation with a man was good practice.
“I’m David Edwards.” He held out a hand, and Addy shook it.
“I—” he began and then broke off as the door opened and Joe appeared.
Addy turned, David Edwards forgotten at the sight of Joe.
He was wearing another of those impeccably tailored suits. Its pale gray material hugged his shoulders, subtly emphasizing their width. The pristine whiteness of his cotton shirt emphasized his light tan, and Addy felt her fingers itch with a desire to rub her fingers over his cheek to see if it was as smooth as it looked. She automatically clenched her fingers to try to dispel the urge, unsettled by the intensity of her physical reaction.
“Mr. Barrington,” David began, only to be cut off by Joe’s curt nod.
“Edwards,” Joe said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“I don’t mind waiting, and you were here first.” Addy gave David an encouraging smile. If Joe didn’t put the man out of his misery pretty soon, she was liable to get to practice her CPR skills on him.
To her surprise, Joe scowled at her. “I’ll see Edwards after you.”
“That’s okay,” David assured her, and Addy, confused by the undercurrents she could feel but didn’t understand, followed Joe into his office.
Addy watched him curiously as he closed his door with a decided snap. “I really don’t have anything else to do.”
“He can wait.”
“But should he?” She probed Joe’s tense attitude.
“Have you got a hankering for the country-club set?”
“I am not a snob, but I’m beginning to have my doubts about you,” Addy replied, defending herself.
“Me!” Joe looked dumbfounded.
“You sound very much like a reverse snob,” she insisted. “Either variety is a pain.”
Joe pressed his lips together and glared at her. “You don’t understand.”
“That much is clear,” she conceded. “So explain.”
Joe shoved his long fingers through his thick, dark hair and finally said, “Do you know who he is?”
“He said his name was David Edwards. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Joe bit the word off.
“Is there supposed to be some special significance to his name?” she finally asked, thoroughly confused.
“You don’t remember the son of the town’s leading citizen?” he mocked. “He owns that huge, white, pillared place just south of town.”
“Oh, that Edwards.” Addy shrugged. “I don’t think I ever meet him before. Is he a competitor of yours?” she asked, trying to figure out why Joe disliked the man so.
“Hardly!” Joe’s tone was scathing. “He’s got no more business sense than you do.”
Addy looked down her nose at him. “There is no need to be so superior. For all I know I could have lots of business sense. I simply have no interest in finding out. And, besides, having business sense is not a measure of character.”
“I told you,” Joe said tightly, “he’s an Edwards.”
“So you did. What you didn’t tell me was why being born an Edwards should qualify him as a social pariah.”
Joe stared at her, his eyes narrowed to blue slits. Addy stared back, refusing to be intimidated by his forbidding demeanor. This was Joe, she reminded herself. Her old friend.
“Don’t get mixed up with the bastard,” Joe ordered.
“Chance would be a fine thing,” she said dryly.
“I saw the way he was looking at you,” Joe insisted.
“Like he’s just found a friendly face.”
“Well,