With A Little Help. Valerie Parv
Читать онлайн книгу.
“Good. You won’t go running off and getting lost in the bush again, will you?”
Not if it meant getting such a cold reception. When she was found, her fantasy of cuddles and warmth in tatters, she’d promised herself to be more careful next time. She’d rather have a bee sting her nearly to death than make her father that angry with her.
Gramma Jessie’s compassion had eased some of Emma’s wretchedness. “Give the child a break, Greg, she’s only four.” She’d lifted Emma off the stool. “You sit at the table and I’ll get you some sponge cake. And you,” she said, glaring at Emma’s parents, “might like to help yourself to something from the cocktail cabinet.”
Emma ate her cake and the homemade lemon drink her gramma served her in the brightly lit kitchen, surrounded by delicious cooking smells and an atmosphere of warmth, while Jessie had sat across the table from her and listened to her adventure.
Realizing she was stroking the book’s cover, Emma let her hand fall to her lap. Was it any wonder she’d rejected her parents’ world in favor of her grandmother’s? As she grew older, she’d come to understand that being in medicine meant walling off many of your own feelings in order to do your job. She admired her parents and brother for their lifesaving skills, but surely life wasn’t only about clinical survival? What about emotional well-being? Maybe it was up to people like Jessie and Emma to balance out the medical side with their own form of caring. “There’s room in Heaven for all kinds of angels,” Emma remembered Jessie telling her one day when she asked why she was the only one in her family who had a problem with the sight of blood. The answer had puzzled her for a long time, but now she knew exactly what Jessie had meant.
Nate was a doctor, she reminded herself. Would he appreciate what she wanted to do for his birthday dinner? There was one way to find out. She pulled her keyboard toward her and went to work.
FEELING HER BACK MUSCLES complaining, Emma stretched and glanced at her watch, startled to see how much time had passed. There was no sound from the kitchen. Sophie had a lecture this afternoon, and had probably gone straight there after delivering the food to the bowling club. Emma realized she was hungry and headed for the kitchen, where she made herself a chicken wrap, eating it standing at a bench, imagining the room with the new fixtures and fittings in place. Why couldn’t Nate’s birthday be a few months later? Then she could have really shown him what she could do.
It wasn’t as if Emma cared about impressing Nate. He’d been quick enough to leave her with his housekeeper after their meeting. She was lucky he was making time to see her today.
At least she thought he’d suggested today. Emma checked her diary. The date was right. So where was Dr. Hale? She hesitated a moment then called his cell phone.
After several rings, she began mentally composing a message for his voice mail when a masculine voice snapped, “Hale speaking.”
“Nate, it’s Emma Jarrett.”
“Emma?” He sounded a million miles away. “Did we have a date tonight?” Before she could reply, he said, “Oh, hell, you’re not that Emma, are you?”
Tension gripped Emma. Who was that Emma? Someone he’d dated, or possibly still did? Not that this Emma cared. She said coolly, “You requested a meeting at my office today to review ideas for your party.”
This wasn’t about him as a man, she reminded herself tautly. This was business.
“I did?” he asked vaguely. “Look, something came up. I’m going to be another hour or so.”
In the medical world, something always came up. “I can email you my notes and prices if you prefer,” she said, trying not to let him hear her disappointment. She’d looked forward to sharing his enthusiasm for her plans. And seeing him again. She swiftly suppressed the thought.
She heard his muffled voice as he spoke to someone else, then he came back on the line. “No need. How about I pick you up at your place as soon as I can get away?”
The increased beating of her heart irritated her, sharpening her tone. “And go where?” If he thought she was having dinner with him, only to be interrupted constantly by his relentless cell phone, he was out of luck.
“I’ll let you know when I get there,” he said.
Before she could demand more details, he’d hung up.
Her knuckles whitened around the phone as an all too familiar feeling washed over her. How many times had she been left dangling by her family when something had come up? She resisted the urge to slam the phone down. If Nate thought she’d wait for him to spare her a few crumbs of his attention, she had news for him.
She printed out her proposal, copied the pages to disk and slid the lot into one of the monogrammed folders she’d had made up when she started the business. Placing the folder into a large envelope, she scrawled his name on the outside. Then she called a cab and gave Nate’s address and the envelope to the driver. As soon as they were gone, she sat down, feeling drained. But there was one more step to take.
She texted Nate to say she was unable to move their appointment, but the information he needed was on its way. He could get back to her when he was ready. Then she surveyed her chaotic office. She should tidy up before retreating to her flat at the back of the building, but couldn’t muster the enthusiasm and closed the door on the mess. It would still be there tomorrow.
An hour later, wearing her favorite sleeveless top and track pants and a well-worn pair of running shoes, she’d barely sat down to work on the velvet evening bag she was making for Sophie’s birthday when the doorbell rang. The business facade of the building deterred most door-to-door salespeople. Had Sophie forgotten something? If so, why didn’t she come around the back?
But when Emma checked the peephole, instead of her friend waiting in the street, she found Nate Hale leaning against the door frame, his hand raised to press the bell again. As she opened the door, she felt her heart kick against her ribs. “You’re lucky to catch me still here.”
He looked skeptical. “Going out?”
She knew her workout clothes argued against a hot date. “I sent you a text saying I couldn’t reschedule our meeting.”
“Yet you’re still here.”
He was reading her like a book and she didn’t enjoy it. “I had some things to do first.” Her tone said it was none of his business.
He refused to get the message. “I came to apologize in person.”
Heat spun through her. “That’s not necessary.”
He shifted his stance so one arm reached over her head to grip the door frame, locking her in place. “Don’t you mean not expected from a walking ego?”
This close, he was affecting her more than she liked. It wasn’t only the sculpted chest outlined by a bad-boy muscle shirt and the snugly fitting jeans that were sending her imagination soaring. He had come to apologize, something so rare in her experience that she hardly knew how to respond. She hid behind a cliché. “The customer is always right.”
Wrong approach, she thought when his mouth curved into a smile. “Finally we agree on something.”
Her suspicion flared. “Why do I feel as if I’m being set up?”
His look was all innocence, difficult to carry off given his rebel looks, but somehow he managed it. “You want to discuss your proposal, I’m all ears. But not here. I need some air, and you look like you do, too.”
Her hand went to her hair before she stopped the movement. “Careful, you might give me a swollen head.”
“It’s not a criticism, merely an observation. I’ll bet this is the first time you’ve stepped outside all day.”
“Wrong.” She didn’t add that the only other time had been to give his package to the cab driver. “So you can drop the doorstep diagnostics.”
“Believe