One Night in Weaver.... Allison Leigh
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she’d expected him to say, it was obviously not that. “Um...okay, then. So, we can just forget it ever happened?”
“Yup.” He started down the wide, shallow porch steps but looked back at her. She was wearing a pale gray pencil skirt that ended just below her knees and a white long-sleeved blouse that was buttoned to just below the hollow of her slender throat.
Aside from her tall, shocking-pink high heels, she looked prim and proper as if she’d just come from a session with a patient, even though it was eight o’clock on a Saturday evening. All he could think about was how fun it would be to get her all mussed up. To finish what they’d never gotten to start the night she’d gone home with him.
But she’d already made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. She was not interested. And now, according to Tristan, her latest patient was one Jason McGregor.
He ruthlessly uprooted the idea germinating in the back of his mind. She had a spotless reputation around town. And she had to be exceptionally good at what she did to earn Tristan Clay’s confidence. She would never betray a patient’s confidentiality to Seth, even if he could get into her confidence. Which, considering everything, was unlikely.
Not to mention the fact that Tristan would have his head if he tried. Few people earned Seth’s respect, particularly ones with that much money. But his boss was one of them. He disagreed like hell with the man over McGregor, but that didn’t change that one basic fact.
“Better get inside,” he advised. “Maid of honor and all.”
She put one hand on the door latch. “Are you working at Cee-Vid tonight or something?”
Or something. “No.” He wondered why she bothered with small talk. Why she didn’t go inside.
And he wondered why he wondered. “Not in the mood for a party.” A breeze drifted over them, playing with her silky ponytail and making her blouse flutter against her body. He wasn’t a cretin, but he was a man. And regardless of what had happened three months ago—or had not happened, to be more precise—he’d have to be dead not to appreciate the here-and-gone-again whisper of lace and the gentle curve beneath that thin white fabric.
“Stay away from the cosmopolitans, Dr. Templeton,” he advised, backing down the last of the porch steps. His lips twisted in a smile. “The next guy you’re with might not be as much of a gentleman as I was.”
* * *
Intent on escaping this unsettling man, Hayley was halfway inside the Clays’ house again when Seth’s words penetrated enough to make sense—and annoyance swept through her.
Maybe she hadn’t handled that night with him very well, but he hadn’t exactly turned out to be Mr. Charming, either.
She looked back.
He was already striding across the long driveway crowded with vehicles of every make and model, his dark head lowered slightly like that of a man deep in thought.
Behind her, she could hear the sounds of the wedding shower that she’d have been on time for if not for taking on a new patient at Tristan’s own request.
Moving abruptly, she went back outside, quickly closing the door again. Jane Cohen was her best friend. If anyone would understand, it was Jane.
Then Hayley hurried down the steps, her high-heeled pumps clicking on the paved driveway as she half-jogged after Seth. Because of her tardiness to the party, she was parked at the tail end of the long line of cars. But Seth, who’d parked much closer to the house, had already reached his dusty gray pickup truck, so she quickened her pace.
Running with Sam in the park a few times a week properly equipped with appropriate shoes was a snap compared to jogging down a crowded driveway in four-inch heels and a narrow skirt. “Seth!”
He showed no sign of hearing her as he started up his truck and inched his way out from between the other cars. She cursed when her heel caught on an uneven spot and her ankle twisted painfully.
Feeling wholly undignified—the same way she’d felt waking alone in Seth’s bed months ago with a splitting headache and wearing nothing but her bra and panties—she stopped and leaned against the hood of the SUV next to her. She reached down to tug off her shoe and gingerly rotated her foot, watching Seth’s taillights as he drove away.
“Brilliant, Dr. Templeton. Just...brilliant.”
Sighing, she fit her shoe back in place and, limping only a little, made her way back to the house and the celebration.
Jane and Casey were finished opening the gifts by the time Hayley slipped into the living room. Tristan’s wife had vacated her spot on the floor next to the couch in order to clear away the piles of discarded wrappings, so Hayley made her way to it, sitting down on her knees because that was the only position her skirt allowed. Now that the gifts were dealt with, most of the guests were milling around talking and filling their plates with food from the buffet set up across the room.
“Sorry I’m so late.”
Casey was busy talking with one of his numerous cousins and Jane waved away the apology, her diamond engagement ring sparkling. “No worries,” she said, smiling. “This is the tenth party we’ve had.”
“Second,” Hayley corrected her. “And you’ve got one more party next weekend to live through, remember? Your bachelorette party.”
Jane’s grin was impish as she leaned toward Hayley. “Remind me why I didn’t think running off to Vegas was a good idea.”
Hayley chuckled softly. “Because even in your supposedly modern, independent heart, you want to walk up that church aisle and pledge your troth in front of everyone.”
“Everyone is right.” Casey turned and joined the conversation. “We have more people coming than can fit into the church.”
Casey’s father, Daniel, obviously had overheard. “A common enough problem where Clay family weddings are concerned,” he commented before taking an enormous bite of the chocolate cake on his plate.
“Well, you’re related to half the town,” Jane told Casey. “So I guess it’s not really a surprise.”
“Not half the town.” Casey gestured toward Hayley. “Last I checked, we weren’t on the same family tree. So I know there’s at least one.”
Hayley laughed along with the others. But inside, she felt a pang. The Templeton family wasn’t quite as extensive as the Clays, but there were still a good many of them. She was just persona non grata with her father right now. And after several months of trying, she was beginning to fear she’d never get him to see reason.
She pushed away the depressing thought and gestured at the array of gifts spread across the coffee table and beyond. Some were very traditional, like the set of towels she’d chosen. And some were less so, like the case of beer she could see sitting on the other side of Casey. “You’re going to be writing thank-you notes until next Christmas.”
“Don’t remind me.” Jane’s voice was rueful. “I didn’t work the bar last night and—”
“She spent the entire time writing out thank-you notes from the shower her sister gave her last week in Colorado,” Casey interrupted, “instead of lavishing attention on her fiancé.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “You poor soul, you.”
Casey smiled and kissed Jane’s nose. “You made up for it this morning.”
Jane pushed him away, laughing and blushing at the same time. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry him in two weeks, I’d say,” Hayley offered.
“Speaking of... Are you sure you don’t mind staying at our place to watch Moose while we’re on our honeymoon? Every time we’ve tried to leave him with one of Casey’s relatives, Moose is either terrified of the other animals there, or his hosts