For the Sake of Warwick Mountain (Harlequin Heartwarming) (7 page)

“I’ll take supper down to him this evening,” she said, “and arrange a visit to Lydia.”

“Thank God,” Delilah said. “I’m at my wit’s end.”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll cure her,” Becca warned. “He may be no more help than her own doctor. After all, plastic surgery, not backs, is his specialty.”

Delilah nodded and sipped her tea. “I understand. By the way, you’re in for a surprise at the feed store. Bobbie Jo at the Shop-N-Go said a big eighteen-wheeler from Lowe’s Home Improvement Warehouse pulled up in front of the feed store early yesterday. Took hours to unload. Lumber, drywall, a refrigerator, you name it. And this morning, a van from a furniture store all the way from Hickory made a delivery. With all they unloaded, you’d think the man was settling in for life.”

“If you’re a millionaire, you don’t have to do without your comforts,” Becca said with a touch of irony, “even in a derelict feed store. He can afford to order anything he wants, hire any help he needs. I’m surprised he hasn’t advertised for a chef.”

She glanced at her aunt and could almost see the wheels turning in Delilah’s mind. “You’re not thinking of applying for a job as his cook?”

Delilah looked aghast. “Jake would skin me alive. No, I was thinking I’ll take Emily home to have supper with us. You take Matt his meal, then report to me when you pick up Emily.”

“In front of Jake?”

Delilah’s eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t mention the house call while Jake’s around. He won’t have Dr. Wonderful touching his precious sister.” Then she grinned. “But he’ll be as interested as me in the details of what’s going on in the feed store.”

Becca nodded. “I’ll call Emily for you.”

Consumed with reluctance and anticipation, she went to the door to summon her daughter.

No big deal taking dinner to Matt, she assured herself. She was a grown woman in charge of her own destiny. She could control her response to the handsome doctor.

Couldn’t she?

CHAPTER SEVEN

B
Y
THE
TIME
Becca parked in front of the feed store a
couple hours later, she had convinced herself that her attraction to Matt Tyler
was a mere passing fancy. Nothing special about the man, she assured herself.
And the fact that he was too handsome, too wealthy, too self-confident and too
soon returning to the other side of the country lessened his appeal even
more.

Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Taking a deep breath, she slid from the car and removed the
basket packed with his supper. No problem. She’d hand him the food, arrange a
house call for Delilah’s sister-in-law and be on her way.

Becca climbed the stairs of the loading dock to the shriek of a
circular saw, gnawing its way through wood, which emanated from inside the
store. The double front doors stood open wide to the fresh breeze, and
late-afternoon sun gleamed through the high windows, illuminating the
interior.

The sight before her tempted her to turn on her heel and
flee.

Dressed in cargo shorts, a T-shirt, work boots and a tool belt
slung low on his hips, Matt worked in a broad swath of sunlight from one of the
high windows. A thin sheen of sweat slicked his face and the well-developed
muscles of his arms flexed as he leaned across a makeshift workbench, guiding
his saw through a two-by-four.

The man had obviously wielded more than a scalpel to acquire
biceps like that, Becca thought. Of course, she reminded herself wryly, with his
money, he probably had his own in-house gym and personal trainer. No wonder he
looked like an action-movie star, unlike the scrawny, weathered and worn men of
Warwick Mountain whose muscles had formed from the backbreaking labor needed to
put food on their families’ tables.

She held to that contrast as a shield against him, but she
couldn’t tear her glance away.

The saw ripped through the lumber, the noise stopped, and Matt
looked up.

His smile when he caught sight of her drew her like a magnet,
and she struggled to resist his charm.

“Hi.” He set aside the saw, reached for a towel and wiped his
face, chest and arms. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” she said hurriedly and
held up the basket. “I just stopped by to bring you supper.”

He took an appreciative whiff of the air. “Smells wonderful.
I’ve been eating frozen dinners for three days.” He nodded toward the rear of
the building. “We can eat in the other room.”

“Oh, I can’t stay—”

“But I want to show you what I’ve done.”

Becca hesitated. She still had to arrange for Lydia’s house
call. “Well, maybe a minute.”

“I’ve eaten alone the last three days. A friendly face across
the table would be a treat.” He pointed to the basket. “And if that thing’s as
full as it looks, there should be plenty for both of us.” He glanced past her.
“Where’s Emily?”

“Having supper with Aunt Delilah,” Becca said automatically,
then bemoaned her lack of guile. She could have used her daughter as an excuse
to escape quickly. As she glimpsed the alterations to the building’s interior,
however, her curiosity overcame her desire to retreat from Dr. Wonderful’s
tempting presence.

“You’ve accomplished a lot in a few days,” she observed with
genuine admiration.

“Here, let me take that and I’ll show you around.” Matt set her
basket on the worktable, then waved an arm toward the half-formed wall. “I’m
framing the front room now, the one I’ll use to receive patients.”

Becca bit her tongue. With all his hard work, she didn’t have
the heart to tell Matt that she doubted anyone would be using his services.
Except Lydia, she reminded herself. And the McClains and the Dickenses, if she
could persuade them.

“This way,” he said. “I’ll show you the rest.”

Becca was no expert, but even to her untrained eye, the framing
in the building appeared sturdy, straight and true. Pro-fessional. She had the
impression that anything Matt set his hand to, he’d do well. He pulled back
plastic sheeting that covered a door frame, and she stepped into the back room
and stopped short in surprise.

“Needs paint on the drywall and a door,” Matt said, “but this
is where I live.”

Matt had worked a minor miracle. Becca moved to the center of
the room and circled slowly, taking in the details.

A trestle table in light wood flanked by two matching chairs
sat beneath a high window. Nearby stood a gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator,
and a rolling wooden cart held a microwave oven and coffeemaker. Grouped atop a
large geometric-print carpet in earth tones in the middle of the room were a
cordovan leather sofa, two chairs and an entertainment center. On end tables
flanking the sofa and chairs, bronze lamps with Arts and Crafts shades cast a
soft ambient light throughout the area. In the corner by the bathroom sat an
armoire that matched the entertainment center.

“How did you accomplish so much so fast?” she asked.

“I learned to do without sleep when I was an intern,” he
explained. “Working late, it didn’t take long to frame and drywall. And less
than an hour to arrange the furniture.”

A tall, narrow packing box leaned against the wall next to the
armoire. “What’s that?” she asked.

“A shower unit. There’s just enough room to squeeze it next to
the toilet, but I wanted your okay before I installed it.”

“That’s fine,” Becca stammered, still trying to comprehend how
much the man had completed in so little time. Not only the work, but also the
amount of thought and planning that had gone into the project. Matt had needed
more than money alone to turn this corner of an abandoned building into an
attractive, livable space. Although, judging from the obvious quality, he hadn’t
skimped on cost.

“Where do you sleep?” she asked.

“Sofa makes into a bed. Not that I’ve used it much yet. Sit
down. Try it out.”

Again Becca hesitated. If she was going to ask a favor for
Lydia, however, she had to be polite. She perched on the edge of the sofa. The
smooth, glove-soft leather caressed the back of her bare legs and the plump
cushions seemed to embrace her.

Matt went to the refrigerator, removed a bottle of wine and
took two glasses from the shelf beneath the microwave. “I’ve been waiting for
someone to help me celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“That I haven’t lost my touch as a carpenter. Guess it’s like
riding a bicycle. It all came back quickly once I started working.” He uncorked
the bottle with distinct expertise, filled two glasses and handed Becca one.

She eyed the drink warily. She hadn’t drunk wine since her days
in Pinehurst. Alcohol clouded her thoughts, loosened her inhibitions and made
her maudlin. She needed a clear head to deal with Matt.

“A toast?” he asked.

Thinking quickly, Becca clinked her glass to his. “To better
medical care for the folks of Warwick Mountain.”

“A noble sentiment,” Matt said, “and one I endorse, but this
isn’t the Rotary Club.” He touched his glass to hers. “To friendship.”

He drank his wine, but she didn’t touch hers. She wanted to be
his friend. Wanted it too much. Her relationship with Grady had begun with
friendship.

And ended in disaster.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” She tossed him a false smile and chugged her wine to
cover her discomfort. The smooth, cool liquid slid down her throat with ease,
and she drank again. “But if you want your fried chicken while it’s still warm,
you’d better eat now.”

He retrieved the basket from the front room, set it on the
table and began removing its contents. “Oh, man, fried chicken, potato salad,
homemade pickles, biscuits and peach cobbler. Becca, you’ve saved my life.”

The wine hit her stomach and spread a rosy glow throughout her
body. “Hope you enjoy it. I have to go.”

She set down her glass and headed for the doorway, but he
caught her hand. “Please, stay and eat with me.”

“I can’t. I only came to—” She clamped her lips shut. Her head
buzzed from the wine. Why not, she thought. Truth was truth. “I only came to ask
a favor.”

“Granted,” he said, “but only if you’ll stay for dinner.”

She’d walked straight into his trap. “You don’t know what the
favor is.”

He pulled out a chair for her at one end of the table, then
topped off her wineglass and placed it in front of her. “Don’t have to know. I
know you. You wouldn’t ask me to do anything immoral or illegal.”

“Or impossible?” Without thinking, she sipped the wine.

“That might take a little longer.” His grin was infectious as
he tugged his chair next to hers and began filling two plates from the dishes
she’d brought.

“Any more midnight visitors, strange lights?” He spooned enough
potato salad onto her plate for three people.

She shrugged. “Haven’t been awake to check. And Emily hasn’t
noticed anyone, either.”

“Have you looked in the woods to see if someone’s been digging
again?” He handed her the plate.

“Should I?” The thought hadn’t occurred to her. Was she being
insensitive to possible danger, or had her introduction to Matt addled her
brains?

His expression was solemn, accentuating the handsome contours
of his face. “Wouldn’t hurt—if you don’t go into the woods alone.”

She couldn’t help laughing. The woods were like an extension of
her home and she felt as safe there as she did in her own living room. “I’m too
old to believe in the bogeyman.”

He scowled. “Don’t be. There’re some real monsters out there.
They pop up on television and in the newspaper every day.”

She didn’t know whether to feel flattered by his concern or
annoyed at his implication she couldn’t take care of herself. No one had really
worried about her since Granny died, and she decided she liked having someone
care about her welfare.

He dug into his potato salad with gusto, his hunger apparently
unimpeded by thoughts of criminals. But his next question took away her
appetite.

“You are locking your doors now?” he asked.

She felt her cheeks flush with guilt. “I did the first night....”

“And since?”

“I forgot.”

He used what Granny would have called “colorful language”
before she’d have washed his mouth out with soap. “Don’t you care what happens
to you? Or at least to Emily?”

“Of course.” She shot her answer back at him. “But you’re
asking me to change a habit of a lifetime.”

“I could call you every night and remind you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I care what happens to you.” His intense brown eyes
glowed with an emotion she couldn’t name, didn’t want to.

“You don’t have a phone,” she said, breathless and not knowing
why.

“It’s being installed tomorrow. Patients will need a way to
contact me.”

In a pig’s eye,
she thought,
recalling the censure he faced, but she’d allow him to finish his meal before
she broached that unpleasant fact.

He set down his fork, his former expression replaced by a look
of obvious self-satisfaction. “I know the perfect solution.”

“To what?” Had he read her thoughts about the community’s
collective cold shoulder?

“Your security problem.”

“I didn’t realize I had one,” she admitted dryly.

“You need a dog.” His voice was triumphant, as if he’d just
found the answer to world peace. Being pleased with himself gave him a boyish
appearance she found entirely too engaging.

She swallowed her bite of chicken. “I can’t afford a dog.”

He shook his head. “You can get one at the pound. Free.”

She adored dogs, but his idea wasn’t practical. “A watchdog? An
animal that size would eat me out of house and home.”

“You don’t need a big dog. A little terrier makes a lot of
noise. It could sound the alarm, scare off intruders.”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and the suggestion wasn’t
entirely without merit. “Emily’s been pestering me for a dog.”

“Where’s the nearest animal shelter?”

“In town.”

“Let me take you and Emily in tomorrow. You can pick out a
pet.”

“Whoa, not so fast. Life may be more spontaneous where you come
from. Here, we like to think things over for a while before taking action.”

She couldn’t help feeling gratified by his interest. She and
Emily had been on their own too long, with only Aunt Delilah to take an interest
in their well-being.

“Didn’t mean to pressure you,” he said. “But I’ll be happy to
drive you to the pound if you decide you want a dog.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“I’m a sucker for dogs.” A wistful expression flitted across
his face. “Couldn’t afford one growing up. Didn’t have time for one in medical
school.”

“And now?”

“I’m hardly ever home. Wouldn’t be fair to have an animal under
those circumstances.”

“If you had time for a dog, what kind would you choose?”

“A full house. A golden retriever, a black Lab, one of those
fluffy little bichon frises that look like a powder puff, and a Chihuahua. For
starters.”

His eyes held a yearning that embarrassed her and made her look
away. Another soft spot in the supposedly hard, cyncial shell of Dr. Wonderful.
The man loved dogs. He was becoming harder to resist by the second.

To return to less treacherous ground, she changed the subject.
“Aren’t you curious about the favor you promised me for having supper with
you?”

“I figured you’d get around to asking eventually.”

She explained about Jake’s sister, Lydia, and the havoc her
sciatica was wreaking on Delilah’s marriage.

“I’ll be glad to take a look at her,” he said. “After all,
that’s why I’m here.”

Becca shifted uneasily in her chair. “It’s not that
simple.”

“Maybe not, but there’re some new treatments—”

“I’m not talking about the sciatica.” Her voice came out
sharper than she intended. She gulped more of her wine to calm her nerves.