“And it sure as hell wasn’t cheap.” Morgan winced as he recalled his winning bid at the recent charity auction. Even so, he would have willingly given up the vase in exchange for a magical elixir to remove that wounded, lost look from Emma Wright’s sad gray eyes before she got angry and they turned to fire.
He had plenty of experience reading people, and the most satisfying part of his job was being able to help them. Emma’s case was an unusual one, but she didn’t know that and he couldn’t tell her. It was part of the reason she stayed in his mind.
It had nothing to do with the fact that she was hot.
Portland was full of hot women wearing vividly colored cropped tops, tight miniskirts and miles of bare skin that replaced winter’s long, dark raincoats and high boots. Quite a few of them worked right here in the hospital complex, but he’d gotten good at ignoring them.
His mother was always nagging him about giving her grandchildren, but he had rules about mixing business and pleasure. His rules hadn’t protected him from Emma. Her red knit top hadn’t been especially snug, nor did her short khaki skirt expose an unusual amount of her long, attractive legs. It was those big gray eyes that grabbed him first, eyes a man could dive into and get lost. Wavy brown hair he wanted to plunge his fingers into and muss all up.
Full lips…
His appreciation of Emma Wright as a woman wasn’t what she needed, so he forced himself to ignore the rush of heat as several rapid knocks sounded on his closed door.
“Enter,” he called out as he turned away from the window.
Just as he had expected, it was Cora who poked her head inside. “Everything okay?” she asked.
As much as he was tempted to ask her opinion, he didn’t have that luxury.
“Everything’s fine,” Morgan replied with a reassuring smile.
She studied him for another moment with a concerned expression, like a soccer mom checking for injuries, before she finally returned his smile with one of her own.
“Okay, good,” she said. “Since you don’t have any wounds in need of binding up, I’m going to lunch.”
Around the corner from the assistant’s station, Everett Baker had pressed himself against the wall so that he wouldn’t be discovered. He’d been on his way back to the accounting department where he worked when he heard the woman shouting at the director. Yelling and anger always made Everett’s stomach knot up. Absently he had rubbed slow circles on his midsection as he watched the pretty woman in the red shirt rush past Cora’s desk.
Why did women always start shouting when they got upset? If they would only ask nicely, they might get whatever it was that they wanted.
No one ever seemed to notice Everett, so he was able to watch the other employees whenever he had a break from his work. Sometimes he was able to listen to their conversations, if they talked loud enough. It helped him to figure out why some people had so many friends and others, like him, didn’t.
On a really good day, he would see Leslie Logan. She came often to Children’s Connection, looking like a modern-day queen. Everett had a special reason for watching her, but it wasn’t what anyone else might think. Leslie was old enough to be his mother.
Everett glanced at his watch and saw that it was time for him to get back to his desk before someone asked where he’d been. Nervously he pushed back his hair as he looked around to make sure that no one was watching him. The hall was empty and the pretty woman in red was gone. He was in the clear.
Two
E mma was still fuming over her appointment when she hurried to meet her friend Ivy Crosby for lunch at a little café near the computer company where Ivy worked. Even though her family owned Crosby Systems, Ivy never took for granted her position there, so Emma didn’t want to be late and hold her up.
She could see Ivy already seated at one of the small tables outside the café, her curly blond hair easy to spot, even in the middle of the lunch-hour crowd. She smiled and waved when she saw Emma coming down the sidewalk.
Despite her own foul mood, Emma waved back before she ducked inside and worked her way through the groups of people waiting to be seated.
“I’m joining my friend at an outside table,” she told the hostess.
Emma and Ivy had been roommates in college. Despite their polar-opposite personalities and wildly diverse backgrounds, they had made the effort to remain close.
When Emma got to the table, Ivy stood up and gave her a hug.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Ivy exclaimed. “I missed you.”
“You, too.” Emma returned her hug, blinking back tears. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Ivy’s perfume was a designer scent that cost more than Emma’s laptop, or her trendy outfit from an exclusive boutique. Beneath the affluent veneer, Ivy was the most genuine and loyal friend Emma had.
“How have you been?” Ivy asked after they had both sat down. “Fill me in.”
“Is there steam coming out of my ears?” Emma asked teasingly. Inwardly she was still fuming about her meeting.
Ivy’s blue eyes widened as she folded her hands on the menu. “Oh, dear,” she replied. “It sounds as if you’ve had a bad morning. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Emma was touched by her friend’s concern, but she knew how much Ivy hated being late back to work. She said it set a bad example for the other employees. “My problems will keep. Let’s order.” She glanced at her menu. “Then I want to hear about your trip. Where was it again that you went?”
“Lantanya.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” Emma wondered if she had imagined the momentary coolness in Ivy’s voice, even as the poetic name rolled off her tongue.
“No one has. It’s just a tiny principality located right on the Adriatic Sea.” She tossed her blond head. “Lunch is my treat. Don’t even bother to argue.”
Emma was embarrassed by Ivy’s generosity, but she was too broke to protest. After they had both ordered seafood salad and iced tea, she managed to smile at her friend.
“Did you meet a handsome prince while you were in Lantanya?” Emma asked teasingly.
To her surprise, Ivy’s expression froze. “I wasn’t there to play,” she said. “It was a business trip.”
“I was only kidding,” Emma replied, refusing to take offense. She was well aware of the stress Ivy felt when it came to her job. “So how was business?”
Ivy’s face relaxed again. “Crosby Industries is putting computer systems in the schools there. The children are so excited. It’s a heartwarming project.”
When it came to kids, Ivy was a cream puff. A few months ago, she had started volunteering at Portland General, working with the crack babies.
“That sounds great,” Emma replied. “Will you be going back?”
Again Ivy’s smile wavered and she glanced away. “I doubt it.”
“I suppose the country is pretty primitive,” Emma said. “Is it hot and barren?”
Before Ivy could reply, the waitress brought their salads and tall glasses of iced tea.
“Anything else?” the young girl asked. When both of them shook their heads, she left the check on the table and departed.
“Lantanya is a lovely country,” Ivy murmured, picking up her fork. “I’ve just had enough traveling for a while.”
Something wasn’t right here. In college the two girls had