An Irresistible Temptation (30 page)

Sophie laughed. “Well, not quite the whole
world.”

“Yes, but nearly. So why do you have to spend
hours rehearsing?”

“Because I can always get better and because
we learn new pieces for each concert. Also, the symphony players
have to knit together.”

“Knit?” Carling repeated.

“The way you and Egbert are knit.” Sophie
gestured to their hand holding. “That’s how the symphony orchestra
has to play. Unless we rehearse, we’d run the risk of being
discordant.”

“Discordant?” Carling wrinkled up her
nose.

“Mm, like if Egbert wanted to grow grapes and
you wanted to grow beets.”

“Why would I grow beets?” Carling scoffed.
“You can’t drink beets!”

They all laughed. Sophie hugged her. “Beet
wine, indeed!”.

Carling smirked. “Get on with you, then.”

Sophie walked slowly home. Discordant,
indeed. Similar to how her brain and heart wrestled over the puzzle
that was Riley. She could recall each of their encounters from the
first day onward. Certainly, she’d believed it was a mutual
attraction—a desire that grew and blossomed. Yet when they could
have had a real relationship, he ended it. He didn’t love her after
all. Or at least, not enough to work out whatever differences lay
between them. If he’d loved her, he wouldn’t have left her behind
in the city, would he?

It still alarmed her, her mistaking his
feelings so badly. Lately, if a man showed an interest in her, she
was immediately doubtful.

“Miss Malloy,” an unfamiliar voice broke into
her thoughts as she was putting her key in the lock.

She turned, wary due to her assault the
previous year, her heart already racing, but it was her neighbor’s
son.

“My mother sent me with this. We got it by
mistake.”

He thrust a letter into her hand and was off
running. Glancing at it—from one of her sisters, most likely—Sophie
made her way in and heated up the kettle for tea. Shoes off, teacup
in hand, she opened it and scanned it, seeing Sarah’s name at the
bottom.

For the second time, her heart sped up. Just
knowing that Sarah was in the same town as Riley, working closely
with him . . . She sniffed the paper, imagining that he might have
stood somewhere nearby when she wrote it.

Oh God, she was a fool. Then Riley’s name
jumped out of the page at her and she began to read. She read and
reread the letter, her tea forgotten and cold when she finally put
the letter down. Certain sentences were now stuck in her head:

“
Riley has turned out not to be a blessing
after all. He is surly and makes mistakes that he would never have
made before he went away to school.”

“
The townsfolk avoid coming in on days
when Doc is off. He doesn’t see how we can possibly leave. Doc is
at his wits’ end.”

“
Everyone is sure it’s because of Eliza
breaking off their engagement, but I think you and I know
better.”

Sophie did know better. Eliza’s setting him
free had been a blessing to him. So what had gone so terribly
wrong? Sarah seemed to be hinting that whatever was going on with
Riley had something to do with her, Sophie. Could Sarah be right?
There was really only one way to find out.

She saw Riley long before he saw her. With
the early spring sunshine warming her on the outside, the sight of
him made her go all-over hot on the inside. He was sitting with a
boy on a bench outside Doc’s practice, and to her shock, he was
yelling at him.

“Just give me your hand,” Riley shouted. The
boy, who Sophie recognized as Ely’s son, Jack, apparently refused.
“This won’t hurt, I’m telling you.” And he grabbed for the hand,
which the boy snatched away. “It’s only a goddamned splinter,”
Riley roared. And this time he succeeded in securing Jack’s
hand.

“Maaamaaaaa,” Jack wailed.

“Jesus!” Riley swore.

Sophie found herself running toward them. At
that rate, the town would lynch Riley sooner than they’d go to him
for healing.

“Jack,” she soothed when she got close
enough. “Why is a big boy like you crying for his mother?” she
asked, though he was all of five years.

They both fell silent. Riley’s and Jack’s
eyes were equally large and round and shocked.

“Now, why don’t we go inside where Doctor
Dalcourt can better look at your hand and I’ll find you a
hard-boiled sweet to suck on if you’re very good.” She knew Sarah
kept them in the drawer of her desk for the youngest patients.

“Sophie,” Riley finally managed, as he and
the boy stood up. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“You’d better mind your language, doctor,”
she said and led the little boy inside. “Where’s Sarah and Doc?”
she asked, seeing the vacant office.

“A lady’s having a baby and wanted them both
with her.”

“But not you, though.”

“No,” he admitted, his jaw tight, “not
me.”

She lifted Jack onto a table and he
obediently held out his hand. She turned it over and saw the wooden
shard, tiny and sharp. “Well, good thing, or this little man would
have to spend the whole day with a splinter in his palm.”

She turned to Riley, who still seemed
mesmerized by her presence, standing still, staring at her. In
truth, she felt lightheaded; it was that good to see him, despite
how they’d parted and despite his current display of temper. If
he’d let her, she’d smooth his brow.

“Well, doctor.” She gestured at Jack.

“I want Doc,” Jack protested.

What on God’s green earth had Riley done to
turn the citizens of Spring City against him? He had seemed to be a
favored son, when she was there before.

“Doc is out,” Riley said. “You got me.”

Sophie sighed. “Jack, Doctor Dalcourt
specializes in splinters. Let him take it out. How about you let
him do it for me, so I can give you that sweet?”

Jack thought about it for a moment and then
nodded, stuck out his hand in Riley’s direction and scrunched up
his face, eyelids firmly closed.

Riley rolled his eyes, but then, with the
tweezers he already held in his hand, he removed the splinter in a
heartbeat.

Jack remained frozen.

“You’re all done,” Riley said and picked Jack
off the table before he’d even opened his eyes. “Now get.”

“Wait,” Sophie said, finding the sweets in
Sarah’s desk. She held out the white wax-paper bag. “Why don’t you
take two for being such a brave boy?”

At last, Jack smiled and reached in the bag
for his treats.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and he fled.

“Jesus,” Riley said again. “How about thanks,
Doctor Dalcourt?”

“Indeed.” She’d seen it for herself—a
bad-tempered Riley—or she’d never have believed it. “What is going
on?”

He stared at her. “Why don’t
you
tell
me? What are you doing here?”

He didn’t sound pleased to see her at all.
She swallowed and decided to be truthful.

“I got a letter from Sarah, basically saying
you’re a disaster.”

“Shit!” Riley heaved himself onto the table
and sat, head slightly bowed. “If that doesn’t beat all.”

“They’re not going to go traveling and turn
over Doc’s practice to you, not as things stand. Can you blame
them?”

“Nope.” Then he lifted his head and looked at
her directly, “but they’ll go all right. I just need to slap on a
smile and hand out the sweets.”

He sounded so unlike himself. Despite what
he’d said to her in the coat closet at The Grand, she ached for
him. Now, with his gaze locked on hers, she was transfixed.

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted to do?”
she asked, her voice softened by the longing that was starting to
slide through her. She looked to where his hands gripped the table
on either side of his denim-clad thighs; she wanted to close her
own hands over his.

“Don’t look at me that way?”

She jumped at his harsh tone, but clung to
the memory of a sweeter, gentler Riley. His feet hit the floor and
he closed the space between them.

“You shouldn’t have come here. You can’t help
me.” His voice was thick with unspoken emotion. She felt as though
her heart were breaking all over again.

“Please, Riley, tell me what’s going on. You
remind me of a story I read as a little girl, about a lion with a
thorn in its paw. The pain made him very angry, and he lashed out
at everyone, until a slave came along and removed the thorn.”

“Is that what you’re here to do?” his voice
lowered as he took another step that brought him nearly up against
her, so she had to look up at his handsome face, with its
stubble-covered jaw.

She didn’t answer; she reached up and grazed
his unshaven cheek before she realized what she was doing. And he
captured her hand in his own. They stared at each other.

She knew her emotions were evident on her
face and in her eyes. He would know that she had no pride, that she
loved him despite everything. However, it was an answering look on
his own face that made her heart twist, even as it gave her
hope.

“No,” he ground out, denying what he was
about to do, just before his lips came down on hers. He released
her hand and she wrapped her arms around his warm, strong body,
leaned in to his hard, muscled frame, and felt she was home.

“No,” he said again, against her lips before
he forced hers open so he could deepen the kiss, far beyond what
was appropriate in Doc Cuthins’ surgical practice. His arms held
her close, enveloping her in everything Riley, and she heard
herself whimper.

How could she live without this man?
The question itself embarrassed her, even as his tongue touched
hers. What kind of nineteenth-century, independent woman was she,
to think such a thought? Yet, as his hands roamed down her back and
he parted his thighs slightly so he could bring her in even closer,
she had no answer.

The door swung open behind her.

“Oh, my,” said Jessie, still wearing her
apron from Fuller’s. “What in the world! Is that you . . . Sophie?
Why, what . . .? I mean, is Doc here?”

By this time, they were standing a
respectable three feet apart, both red-faced and breathing
heavily.

“What do you need, Jessie?” Riley asked
gruffly.

“I burned my forearm a little, but I can see
you’re busy.” She started to back out.

“I was about to leave,” Sophie said, though
it was obvious she’d been doing no such thing.

“No,” Jessie protested. “It’s okay. I’ll wait
until—”

“Until Doc gets back,” Riley finished, his
voice thin, sounding tired.

“Well, that is . . . yes.”

Sophie had to speak up. “Riley is a good
doctor, Jessie. He attended one of the finest schools in the
country. I think you can trust him to handle a kitchen burn.”

“I couldn’t last time,” she said flatly.

Sophie looked from Jessie to Riley.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I used the wrong
ointment.”

“It stung like hell,” Jessie protested.

“Burns will sting,” he said cavalierly.

“Riley!” Sophie scolded. “Jessie, I’m sure
he’s got the right medicine now. Some lanolin balm, perhaps.”

“Aloe,” he corrected, looking at her. “With
some acetylsalicylic acid and a little laudanum to deaden the
pain,” Riley added, sounding more like himself,

Jessie still looked doubtful, but she let
Sophie lead her to the inner surgery, with Riley following. Jessie
pulled up her sleeve to show an ugly red mark on her arm.

“A steam burn, would you believe? But I
panicked and rubbed at it with my kitchen towel. Plum took the skin
off.”

“We’re going to clean that first, so you
don’t get infected.”

Riley talked to Jessie all the while he
cleaned the burn and treated it and dressed it. Sophie watched him;
he was calm, competent, and caring, the way he’d been during the
train accident, and she couldn’t imagine how the people of Spring
City weren’t thrilled to have him.

Jessie was nearly out the door, when she
turned and said, “You can go back to what you were doing when I
came in.” She smiled at their mortified faces before adding, “It
seems to have helped him no end.”

After Jessie left, they were both silent a
moment.

At last, Riley asked, “Are you staying at the
Sanborn place again?”

“Yes.” Though she hadn’t let Sarah know she
was coming, so there would be no prepared bed and stocked pantry as
the time before.

“I’ll take you over,” Riley offered.

“No,” Sophie said, putting her hand up. “I’ll
make my own way. You need to be here in case you get any more
patients, right?” She was backing away, needing distance from him.
“I’ll speak to you later. If you see Sarah, well . . .”

She trailed off.

He half-smiled. “I’ll tell her you’re here,
so she can start cooking.”

She nearly had the door closed when he asked,
“Sophie, how long are you staying?”

She hesitated. “A couple days, at the most.”
By her reaction to him, she knew it couldn’t be longer, or she’d
never be able to leave. Even now, she could feel how painful it was
going to be.

*****

As Sophie shut the door, Riley whooped with
joy. God, it was good to see her again. Better than good, it was
incredible. He felt instantly alive and happy, lighthearted and
nearly singing like a wren in nesting season. The very same room
and the exact same town that had been confining and drab and
colorless, at this moment was exciting, just because he knew she
was near.

He had to shake his head. He could almost
believe she was a vision conjured up by his lonely, desperate
brain. He still could barely believe that Sophie had been standing
there a moment earlier.

A short while ago, he faced never setting
eyes on her beloved face again, and that reality had darkened every
waking moment since he’d returned to Spring. Now, he was counting
down the minutes until he could close the door for the night and
see her again. He steadfastly refused to think past the plain and
simple fact that she was in town; for the time being, he wouldn’t
acknowledge that nothing had changed regarding their impossible
situation.