The Doctor and the Single Mom Read online

  “Absolutely.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  “Mayor Goodson says good health care is important for area growth. I can do friends with you.” She blew out a long breath. “But don’t pretend it just to fit in.”

  “I’d never do that.” Frustration and anger wrapped around the words.

  “That’s what the last doctor said.” She held up her hand to stop him when he started to protest. “There’s one more thing.”

  “That’s two favors.”

  “It’s important.”

  He nodded. “Okay. What?”

  “Don’t start anything with C.J. Don’t pretend to be his friend. Don’t play catch and pay attention to him if you’re going to drop him like a hot rock. He’s vulnerable. And you may have noticed that he’s hungry for male companionship—”

  “I’d never hurt him. I’m not leaving.” A muscle worked in his jaw as his fingers curled into his palms. “You may have noticed that I’m doing everything possible to build a life here.”

  She stared at him for several moments and realized he wasn’t faking the same frustration she was feeling at calling off that kiss. That made her feel much better and slightly more willing to believe him.

  Then she heard the sound of bare feet running through the living room before C.J. hollered, “Mommy, I’m all clean.”

  Call her naive, but she didn’t believe Adam had planned to put moves on her tonight. If so, he’d have waited until C.J. was in bed. There was some comfort in that, but not nearly enough.

  With wet hair and wearing superhero pajamas, the little boy appeared in the doorway and came to a sudden halt. “Dr. Adam, you’re still here.”

  The doctor’s eyes never left hers when he said, “I told you I’d stay.”

  “Cool.” C.J. stared first at her, then Adam. “How come you guys look weird?”

  “Maybe you still have water in your eyes?” she said, trying to deflect with humor.

  “Nope. I dried real good. And I washed my feet. See?” He held up a foot and would have toppled sideways if she hadn’t caught him.

  “Nice job, kiddo.”

  Better than her. She was a complete failure at the objectives for which she’d been preparing. She wasn’t supposed to crumple like a used tissue the first time Dr. Adam Stone showed the slightest interest. Ironically they were in complete agreement about how unwise it was to pursue anything personal, but the disappointment flooding through her took her completely by surprise. Still, what she resented the most was that he’d been the strong one and actually had the willpower to pull away before things got out of control.

  “Mom? I want dessert now.”

  Yeah, Jill thought darkly, there was a lot of that going around.

  * * *

  Adam had thought a strenuous hike in the mountains around Blackwater Lake would relieve the tension coiled like a rattler in his gut. Three hours later he walked out of the woods sweaty, tired and more tense than when he’d left. Jill’s car was gone, which was both a blessing and curse. He couldn’t look forward to seeing her, because she wasn’t there, but then the wondering where she’d gone and what she was doing kicked in.

  This was nothing new since he’d moved in upstairs. It had just become more intense since he’d kissed her the other night. He needed a tension-relieving activity, and he needed it bad. Specifically something to take his mind off Jill. More specifically her mouth. And to put a finer point on it, the necessity of finding something to keep him from thinking about kissing those full, tempting lips was getting more urgent every day.

  If he hadn’t slipped up and gone there, it wouldn’t be an acute problem now because he wouldn’t have any idea about the sweet secrets her mouth had promised. But he did screw up, and doing it again would be an even bigger mistake. So he had to find something to fill his free time.

  Adam walked around the front of the house, toward the stairway leading to his apartment. Glancing down at the dock on the lake, he noticed a sign in front of the marina store. Sale—All Fishing Gear Twenty-Five Percent Off. He hadn’t cast a line in the water since his time at camp. Maybe it was time he did.

  Fishing could distract him. Die-hard fishermen swore the sport was relaxing and put all your troubles on hold. If nothing else, the smell of lake trout wasn’t the least bit like the sweet scent of Jill’s soft skin.

  It was a plan and he went to the little store to take action. There was a display of fishing poles on the wooden walkway beside the door, but they all looked the same as far as he was concerned. Different-sized sutures or medical equipment, he was your guy, but this was Greek to him.

  He walked inside and looked around. Not much had changed since the day he’d hung out with C.J. by the lake. The biggest difference was that signs were everywhere advertising markdowns. His guess was the summer merchandise had to be sold before winter set in. Anything not moved out would have to be stored.

  Adam didn’t see anyone minding the shop and noticed there was another door on the opposite side that looked out onto the marina. He stepped outside and saw Brewster Smith hosing down fishing poles, rubber boots, tackle boxes and an ice chest beneath a sign that said Equipment Rental. “Hi.” Adam raised his hand in greeting.

  The other man nodded, but didn’t say anything, then turned his attention back to what he was doing.

  “Journey of a thousand miles...” Adam muttered, then walked over. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky and pine trees covering the mountains looked even greener. “Beautiful day.”

  Brewster looked up. “Yeah. Winter will be here before too long.”

  Mr. Glass-Half-Empty, Adam thought. “How’s business?”

  “Same as always this time of year.”

  The older man was wearing a blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and faded-to-almost-white jeans. His scuffed boots were well-worn and wet, along with the one knee resting on the ground. His thick gray hair could use a trim, as could the beard, and the skin showing was leathery, the sign of a man who’d labored outside for most of his life.

  Adam wanted to recommend a sunblock with SPF fifty for face, neck, hands and even the skin under the shirt. He didn’t say anything, figuring they needed to bond a little more first.

  “Looks like there’s a big sale going on,” he said, setting the bonding process in motion.

  “Noticed that, did you?” There was irony in the pale blue gaze the older man turned on him. “It’s a comfort to know you can read.”

  Adam took the high road and ignored the sarcasm. “Might be a good time to buy a fishing pole.”

  “Rod.” Brewster used a bristle brush on one of the rubber boots.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fishing rod,” he said. “Only greenhorns or city slickers call it a pole.”

  “Good to know.” Adam silently counted to ten, determined to maintain a cheerful and unruffled appearance. “I’m thinking of taking up fishing. I hear it’s relaxing.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  What the hell difference did it make? “I’m not sure. Around.”

  “Hmm,” was the only response.

  “Maybe you could recommend equipment for a beginner?”

  “Best advice?” Brewster looked up and there wasn’t a hint of friendliness in his expression. “Just rent or go cheap.”

  “Because it’s less complex and easier to use?”

  “Nope. Just practical.”

  “Why?”

  “Best not to put a lot of money into something you’ll leave behind after pulling up stakes.” Brewster went to work cleaning the other rubber boot.

  Adam refused to rise to the bait, no pun intended, but an appropriate metaphor in a fishing store. “I’m here for the long haul a
nd money’s not an issue. What do you think I should start with?”

  “Depends.”

  I’ll bite, Adam thought. Again with the fishing figure of speech. “On what?”

  “On what your intentions are.”

  This guy was already looking to cut his heart out with a spoon. No way would Adam try to bond over the fact that he’d kissed Jill and was now looking for a way to forget about her. Brewster would never understand that Adam’s intentions were to fix the mistake, that it was best for both of them. And C.J.

  He remembered Jill saying that she could give him a blow-by-blow of what would happen if they tried a relationship. But, damn it, he wasn’t the last doctor and it bugged him that he was painted with the jerk brush. There was no point in challenging her because he wasn’t willing to start something just to prove her wrong. He wasn’t going to take the risk.

  “Define intentions,” he finally said.

  “You planning to hang around and look busy or actually catch something?” Brewster rested his forearm on his thigh. “If you’re figuring on volume, there’s trolling gear.”

  Adam had a fairly high I.Q. He’d made it through medical school at the top of his class, after all. But Jill Beck’s self-appointed protector was making this clear as mud. On purpose. “I’m not following.”

  “There’s simple cane rods—some call ’em bank rods.”

  “Why?”

  Again irony in the older man’s expression. “Because you stand on the bank of the water to use it.”

  “Ah.” Adam had actually guessed that. “What else?”

  “Some rods and trolling equipment are meant to be used on a boat, either anchored or moving.”

  “I see.” Adam nodded. “I hadn’t thought about a boat. Is the fishing better in deep lake water?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “How does one go about buying a boat?”

  Brewster rubbed a leathery hand across his neck. “Got some docked here at the marina that folks are trying to sell. But they’re mostly bigger, for longer trips.”

  The implication was that anything for sale here would be too much for Adam to handle, and that was probably true. “Is there something smaller that you know about?”

  The older man reached over and turned off the hose at the spigot. “Rowboat.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Over there.” He cocked his thumb, indicating the big, open area of the dock behind the store.

  Adam walked over and saw a tarp tented over something. Since there was nothing else around, he lifted the canvas to have a look. Underneath was a stack of wood and the skeleton of what appeared to be a rowboat-under-construction. Obviously the older man was messing with him. Another frustrating moment in an increasingly frustrating conversation.

  Moving back to where the man was coiling the hose, Adam struggled with his patience. “Looks like it will be a boat when it grows up.”

  “Been like that for a while,” Brewster confirmed. “Started it on commission for that doctor who skipped town. He left Jill blowing in the wind for the money she put out on materials. At least she kept the deposit.”

  “Good for her.” Adam nodded thoughtfully. “Might be nice to have something like that in the spring. Can you finish it for me? I’ll pay up front.”

  “You’re still here in the spring we can talk about it. No point in wasting energy, or storing something that won’t get used.”

  Adam’s turn-the-other-cheek attitude was just about played out. He had one nerve left, and Brewster Smith was standing on it. “I’ll be here in the spring.”

  “Heard that before.”

  “That’s it.” Adam’s temper snapped. The cheerful well dried up and he was too pissed off to care about bonding or diplomacy. He took a step closer to the other man. “I’m sick and tired of everyone in Blackwater Lake assuming I’m just like the guy who hurt Jill.”

  Brewster didn’t back down. His steely-eyed gaze never wavered as he planted his hands on his hips. “And I’m sick of seeing that girl cry over men who aren’t worth spit. It’s not happening again. Not on my watch.”

  Adam decided not to waste his breath repeating the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere. He said something else that was just as true. “I’m not going to make her cry.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it. And make no mistake. I’m watching you,” he added before walking away.

  Adam knew the older man would also be passing along anything he saw to Jill. He blew out a long breath as he stood outside in the sun. It was hard enough to prove yourself in a new job, but he had the added pressure of proving to the whole town that he wasn’t the other guy. The entire population of Blackwater Lake was watching him, waiting for him to screw up.

  If he gave in to temptation and kissed Jill again, there was little doubt in his mind that he’d take her to bed. That would be a slippery slope into the relationship pool. After that it was a hop, skip and jump into her wanting more—commitment and vows. That wasn’t something he could do again.

  The disappointment had the potential to make her cry, and he’d just sworn not to do that. But if he didn’t stop thinking about her, all his promises could go up in smoke, right along with his dream of a life in Blackwater Lake.

  If he took her to bed, there was very little doubt that everyone in town would know.

  And he would pay.

  Chapter Six

  Jill walked into Mercy Medical Clinic with C.J. even though it was the last place she wanted to be, for so many reasons. C.J. was holding a towel to his injured chin, which had bled on his shirt and sneakers. His freckled face was dirty from playing outside after school, and tears had made tracks through the grime.

  They walked over to the flat desk in what was once the living room of the converted Victorian house. The receptionist, Liz Carpenter, was a pretty brunette in her twenties.

  She smiled sympathetically. “Got a boo-boo, big guy?”

  C.J. nodded solemnly and his mouth quivered. “Mommy says it might need stitches.”

  Jill looked down and saw tears pooling in his eyes again. Her heart squeezed painfully as it always did when her child was hurting and scared. She wasn’t sure which hurts were the worst—physical or emotional—but hated both with a fierce passion fueled by maternal instinct.

  “Thanks for getting us in, Liz. I know it’s past time for you to go home.” Clinic hours were from eight to five and Jill’s watch had said six-thirty when she’d pulled the car into a parking space outside.

  The receptionist waved her hand in a don’t-worry-about-it gesture. “We ran way behind schedule today. You’re not the first emergency. I’m used to it. Happens all the time.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. And hopefully it’s not a problem.”

  “Nope. I checked with Dr. Stone and mentioned C.J. is the patient. He seemed really concerned. Does C.J. need to lie down?”

  “No.” The panicky tone said he’d rather put off going into an exam room for as long as possible.

  “Okay, then.” She indicated the chairs in the waiting area. “Just have a seat. The doctor is with his last patient now. It won’t be long.”

  Jill smiled automatically even though crying was what she badly wanted to do, but she had to stay strong for C.J. If she fell apart, this whole thing would be even scarier for him. Putting a hand on his small shoulder, she guided him to an empty row of chairs with a view of the hallway. “Hang in there, kiddo. Before you know it we’ll be home and I’ll make your favorite dinner.”

  “Hot dogs and mashed potatoes?”

  “Of course.” Would she ever make that again without thinking about Adam and what had happened after dinner? That kiss was epic, at least in her experience. Not epic enough, though, if he could back off so easily.

  For so many reasons Jill ho
ped she was wrong about the gash on her son’s chin needing stitches. First and foremost she didn’t want him to go through any more trauma. And she’d give almost anything to avoid seeing Adam, anything except take C.J. to the hospital that was so far away, which was her only other choice.

  Then there was the fact that she hadn’t seen Adam since the night he’d kissed her and taken it back, which was a personal worst for her. Other men had kissed her, but not one had asked to be friends after doing it.

  She wasn’t sure if friendship could be pulled off, but it was best to try. Maintaining the appropriate level of hostility to neutralize his charm was an energy suck and she didn’t have much to spare.

  “Do you want to look at a magazine?” she asked, glancing at the stack on the end table beside her.

  C.J. sat stiffly, still holding the cloth to his chin. “No.”

  She knew his arm had to be getting tired and this was probably as good a time as any to get a good look at the injury. It had been hardly more than a glance at the house. Her first instinct was to stop the bleeding and she’d grabbed the kitchen towel from a drawer. C.J. was crying, scared and wouldn’t lower the cloth to let her examine his chin.

  “Can I look at your boo-boo?”

  “No! Don’t touch it.” His voice was just this side of a meltdown, which didn’t bode well for letting the doctor have a peek, which was the whole reason they were here.

  “Okay.”

  Just then she heard a door open down the hall. There were footsteps on the wooden floor and a murmured conversation that grew louder. Adam appeared in the doorway with Brewster Smith’s wife.

  Jill shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. “Hildie.”

  “Hey, what are you two doing here?” The older, gray-haired woman smiled and sat in a chair next to C.J. A quick look and she figured out the reason for the visit. “What happened, honey?”

  “I fell and hit my chin. Don’t touch it,” he warned.

  “Don’t even want to see it,” Hildie said with a shudder. She looked at Jill. “Are you holding up okay?”