Rescue Me (a quirky romance novel about secrets, forgiveness and falling in love) (19 page)

But he also saw something else, and realized it was folly to pursue her. Hailey had a life to return to--in California.

He ordered his favorite dish, seafood Alfredo, and wasn't surprised when it didn't taste as good as it usually did. He watched Hailey pick at her food--a spicy jambalaya--not surprised she wasn't eating either. "You really should eat. You'll be starving later," he warned.

"I'm still recovering from last night..." She looked at him and blushed.

"Yeah," he said, avoiding that subject, even though he guessed she might like to talk about it. She'd mentioned it twice now. "Wine can give you a heck of a hangover."

"I've never had one--a hangover."

"I've had more than my share."

"Really? I assumed you don't drink. You didn't drink much last night."

"There was a reason for that." He felt his face heat as he watched her eyes widen with understanding.

Their gazes dropped simultaneously to their plates. Rainer poked at a noodle, smothered in garlicky sauce, and shoved it under a piece of shrimp. Only thirty-six hours longer. A little more than one day, and Hailey would be safe and sound in Sequoia Valley.

He felt sick to his stomach.

When he glanced up, his gaze met hers again. This was crazy. They were both obviously battling something--some chemistry.

But there was a boatload of reasons why pursuing anything with Hailey Jensen was a bad idea. He tore his gaze from her and began listing them, using the noodles as counters.

First, she lived across the country.

Second, she was the opposite of his ideal woman.

Third, she swore like a sailor.

Forth, she dressed like a hippie.

Fifth, she was moody and unpredictable.

Sixth, she was sarcastic and annoying.

Seventh, she was the sister of a woman who might be in love with him.

Did he have to go any further? The pile of noodles was already pretty intimidating. And that last noodle was a whopper.

He glanced up. Hailey poked at her full plate, looking so pained, she might as well be on The Rack. Not sure what else to do, he went back to counting noodles.

Now the good side. If there was one. And if he dared even consider it. He was putting himself in a miserable position for even considering it. He loved Heidi. He wouldn't be the cause of more suffering for her. No way.

But he could still count the good stuff.

First, Hailey was sexy, so sexy just the thought of her rose his core body temp.

Second, she was smart.

Third, she was fun to talk to.

Forth, she was sexy.

Fifth, she kept him on his toes.

Sixth, his whole life was different when she was in it.

Seventh, she was sexy.

Eighth, he felt like he'd known her his whole life.

Ninth, he liked the man he was when he was with her.

He stopped. Look at that, the good pile of noodles was bigger than the bad.

It still didn't matter. He wouldn't do anything to risk hurting Heidi. Especially something so obviously tied to hormones. Yes, he was a man. And as a man, he could be ruled by his baser needs. But he was a civilized, responsible man.

He jabbed the bad noodles. Stabbed and stabbed until they were nothing more than cream-laden mush.

"What are you doing?" Hailey asked.

He looked up, suddenly feeling foolish. "Mutilating bad noodles?"

"If they're bad, why don't you send them back?" Her expression was a charming mixture of curiosity and disgust. Her full lips curled up into a grimace that didn’t fit them well. That mouth was definitely more suited to smiling.

"They're not bad. They're..." He shoved the plate away. "I can't eat another bite. You?"

"Me neither."

He glanced at his watch, disappointed to see his time was up. He needed to get Hailey back to his place and get back to work. His first patient was due at the clinic within the hour. He flagged down the waitress, paid the check and hurried Hailey toward the door, hoping she'd understand the reason for their hasty departure.

"What's the big hurry?" she asked, standing at the passenger side of the car.

"I have a patient at the clinic. Have to get back to work."

"Oh." She nodded, but looked skeptical, not that he could blame her. Since meeting her, he had slacked off at work. His sudden commitment to work must strike her as strange.

He didn't understand himself. He'd risked his career, his friendship with Heidi, his relationship with his contemporaries, all for what?

And that's when realization struck him. Blasted him with the force of the A-bomb. He didn't have a passing fancy for Hailey Jensen, or even a deep but transient lust. He had feelings for her. Real feelings. Like affinity, desire, respect. He all but loved her.

He had the sneaking suspicion loving her would be a very bad thing.

Thirty-six hours couldn't pass fast enough.

He buckled himself into the driver's seat, wryly wondering what she was thinking, but trying hard not to, and drove the few miles home. She stood inside the front door looking alone and miserable as he pulled away, and all he could think about was gathering her into his arms and kissing away the pain.

Damn his soft heart! If he could, he'd get a transplant. Replace it with a cold steel model. Something that wouldn't lead him astray.

And something that couldn't break.

Hailey watched Rainer drive away, the remaining salmony remains of the sunset hanging in the western sky. Pink and lavender. Michigan had some of the most breathtaking sunsets, she admitted. Not quite beating out the picture-perfect ones she enjoyed at home--whenever she allowed herself to be home before nightfall. For some reason, distance had given her life in California new clarity and focus.

Some things weren't so important anymore, and that surprised her. She'd expected to be frantic by now, knowing all the roadblocks facing her when she returned. Why didn't they bother her so much?

Surely they would regain importance when she got home. It was too much to think about, she reasoned. Just too much to deal with at one time, with Heidi so sick. And her mother, and Rainer...

She slammed the front door and walked up the stairs. No thinking about Rainer! Forget those last awkward hours. Forget about how it felt to sink into his embrace, to bask in his smile, to taste his kiss. It didn't matter. It wasn't real.

As soon as she was in her room, she turned on the television. Noise. That's what she needed. Something to drown out the ridiculous thoughts dancing through her mind. Something to chase away the temptation to curl up in misery and hide from life and pain.

The local news was on. A man and woman sat side by side rattling off the latest travesties and tragedies with smiling faces. She turned her back to their dim-witted chatter and walked to the bathroom. Maybe a bath--scalding, scented water--would make her feel better. It couldn't make her feel any worse.

As she stared at her pale reflection in the mirror, tinged by the florescent lights, she released her hair from the ponytail and ran her fingers through its length.

Yeah, run back to your pretty little life in California. Pretty ocean, pretty house, pretty hair, pretty face, pretty business..., her sister's voice echoed in her head.

"Well, what else can I do?" she asked, yanking at a tangle in her hair.

A thought struck her. It was a small thing. She didn't know if it would mean much, but it was something.

Immediately she opened the drawer in the cabinet and rummaged through its sparse contents. When she didn't find any scissors there, she tried the next, and the next, and the next.

"A doctor has to have scissors in his house."

She ran to his room, hesitating at the door before opening it. She wouldn't poke around, as tempting as that might be. "I'll go to the bathroom, check the medicine cabinet and leave," she said aloud as if that might help her avoid the temptation to snoop.

But she froze in place the moment she passed his dresser and spied several framed photographs of a woman, someone she didn't recognize. A young, beautiful woman with a bright smile and tanned face.

Was this a co-worker? She picked up the photograph to take a closer look. Rainer was in the picture with her, grinning like a madman. They stood close, his arm resting on her shoulder. Her hand rested on his stomach, her shoulder snuggled into his chest. They were much too cozy--like lovebirds roosting on a branch.

And then she noticed the background. Deep blue sky, sand, water.

Vacation?

"Who are you?" she asked, flipping the picture over, tempted to take it out of the frame to see if he'd written anything on the back. Then she laughed. She was being silly.

She set it back in place and scanned the room. A collection of framed photos sat on the armoire in the corner. She ran across the room.

Sure enough, several of them contained the mystery woman. The others were of Rainer and Heidi. In those, he stood farther, his expression stiff, his posture restrained. He didn't have the same relaxed demeanor with Heidi he shared with the other woman. Was she an ex-girlfriend?

He wouldn't he keep pictures of an ex-girlfriend. Unless...

...unless she wasn't an ex.

But that made no sense! Where was she? When did he spend time with her? Hailey shook her head. It didn't matter. Maybe she was someone he dated when he was a resident. Maybe she lived far away--in Florida. Sure, that could be it.

If the pretty blonde was a girlfriend, it explained a lot--like why he had acted so weird today. And why he reacted the way he did when she told him about Heidi's feelings.

Hailey let her head drop until her forehead smacked into the front of the armoire. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He'd been awkward and tongue-tied because of Hailey's reckless behavior last night, thanks to the wine. He wasn't a cheater--even when the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter.

She studied the woman's beaming face in the photo. "You're one lucky lady." She set down the picture and turned toward the bathroom. Best to get out of there, pronto. After she found a pair of scissors, razor sharp, she left the room, closing the door behind her before running down the hall. She sat on her bed, the scissors lying across her hands like a revered artifact. Could she chop off all her hair for her sister?

Yes!

She ran to the bathroom, gathered it into a tight ponytail and raised the sheers to the base. The blades sliced through the thickness slowly at first, speeding up as she progressed.

Then it was done. She held the long ponytail in one hand and the instrument she'd used in the other. The hair was least two feet long, it would make a dynamite wig.

A wig for Heidi.

Hailey laid the hair and scissors on the counter and ran her hands through her shorn hair. It was uneven and choppy, looking like the bad cut she'd seen on a New England Sheepdog once. She cringed.

She took up the scissors and tried to even up the cut, but the more she chopped, the worse it looked, until she figured she might as well shave it all off. Remembering the electric trimmer she'd seen in Rainer's bathroom, she dashed back and got it, then finished the job, mopping up the remains in the white sink with a towel before she dared look in the mirror.

"I look like a Marine recruit!" she said, smiling at the God-awful reflection in the mirror. She turned on the water and filled the bathtub, dumping in a healthy dose of body wash to create a mountain of bubbles before lowering herself in.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let the water heat her from the outside in. She let herself doze off. But images of Heidi, her mother, Pete, Rainer and the woman in the picture played through her mind, each image more troubling than the last. Finally, she sat up, and staring into the inky room, she realized she hated her life.

Wondering if Rainer was home yet, she dressed and walked to his room, her bare feet padding down the soft wool carpet. When she reached his door, she stood outside, fist raised, undecided. Should she knock? Could she ask him the questions tugging at her heart? Would she like the answers he gave her?

Hailey knocked.

Rainer answered, "Come in."

She opened the door and stepped inside, immediately noticing he was still fully dressed, sitting on the bed, a book in his hands and several others strewn over the coverlet.

He glanced up at her, and his eyes widened with shock.

Her hand flew to her head as she realized why he was staring. "I cut it off."

"I see that." He patted the bed. "Come. Sit."

She accepted his invitation, feeling such a bizarre mix of emotions, from confusion to desperation, that she didn't know how to act. She stared at the pictures on the armoire.

"Why?" He rested his fingertip under her chin and turned her face to him.

"What is it about you?" she asked, not happy she'd spoken those words. She'd intended to think them.