Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) (7 page)

“
I wasn’t going to. I feel
twice as strong about being censored mid-sentence.”

Bella Barracuda peeked under the
table. “Everything all right?”

“
Just fine,” Nan said
through gritted teeth.

Brad popped back upright and Nan
followed. The circle of disapproving eyebrows rose several notches
higher. Nan decided that for the sake of the evening, she’d let
Brad’s interruption go. Mr. Perfect was turning out to be not so
perfect for her after all.

Bella Barracuda spoke first. “I do remember the
summer you worked with Von Heller, Brad. You were brilliant.” She
sent Brad a lingering half-shuttered look. “Dr. Von Heller still
comments on the progress you two made.”

Brad nodded then went into a long diatribe about the
experiments they’d conducted and their hopes of major nerve
regeneration for the future. Nan swallowed, but couldn’t ease the
tightness in her throat. Her appetite dwindled and the evening went
down hill from there. She smiled, showed appropriate interest, and
made an intelligent comment or two on related medical topics, but
on the whole the evening was a big disappointment. Most of the
conversation centered on travel in Europe. She’d never been.

A stuffy hour later, she walked with
Brad from the banquet room to the Magnolia Ballroom. Jackson’s band
played a popular song, and Jackson sang it better than the original
artist had. His smoother-than-Irish-Cream voice slid like hot silk
over her senses. Really not good, and the evening was just getting
started.

“
Would you like to dance?”
Brad asked, holding out his hand.

She put her hand in his. He had
capable hands, hands that wrought miracles in people’s lives. She
should be thrilled to be with him. Instead, all she could think was
that Brad’s hands didn’t have the feel to them that Jackson’s
callused one’s did. Nan gritted her teeth and wanted to smack
herself upside the head. Or smack Jackson.

The evening thus far had been a
complete disaster in regards to her dress and her hopes of making a
good impression on several of the hospital’s board members, but
that didn’t mean she and Brad couldn’t salvage something from it.
And it was up to her to do it. She needed to focus on Brad and all
of those twenty-five traits that made up Mr. Right. She followed
him onto the dance floor and adjusted herself in his arms. “There’s
a silver lining to this rainy evening,” she told him smiling.
“We'll just have to find it.”

Nan forced herself to relax in Brad’s
arms as he led her in a slow dance. Their bodies moved well enough
together to the beat of the music, but Nan couldn’t seem to shut
her eyes and lose herself in the magic of the song. She kept
peeking at Jackson.

“
You're an optimist,” Brad
said. “That’s an admirable quality to have.” He sent a
thousand-watt smile her way. “I recently read a book about the
habits of successful people and optimism was the one area I
lacked.”

Brad listed the traits, expounding on
their benefits. Many of the traits were the very same ones she’d
put on her Mr. Perfect list. Yet, as Brad’s voice droned on, Nan’s
mind wandered.

Jackson leaned against a high stool
with one knee bent to cradle the curve of his guitar and his other
leg stretched out in a relaxed stance that oozed a sex appeal sure
to melt any female in the room.

She was looking right at him when his
gaze singled her out of the crowd. Nan automatically tightened her
hold on Brad’s shoulders and inched herself closer to him, looking
for any sort of a lifeline to save her from the nebulous sea she
fell into whenever Jackson was around.

Brad didn’t seem to notice. He stayed
on beat like a metronome and told her about a speech he planned on
giving at a medical convention the next week. Nan nodded her head
and tried to focus on what he was saying.

“
The day I was born, my
parents declared me a genius. From that point on, every moment of
my life was planned out for me to be the best at everything. I
think doctors should apply this philosophy in their treatment of
patients. To achieve optimum healthcare, a patient needs to make a
plan for it when they are young and adhere to it everyday of their
life. Anything that doesn’t fall into the plan’s guidelines should
be discarded.”

Nan blinked. She was a planner,
but…surely she didn’t sound as fanatical about plans as Brad did.
“Isn’t that extreme? Didn’t you do fun things as a kid like make
mud pies or watch a silly movie?”

“
Mud pies? Not hardly, I
excelled in golf and chess. When my family traveled abroad, I had
my own tutor and became proficient in the native language of the
country we stayed in. Time doesn’t stand still for anyone. If
you’re not learning or achieving, you’re being left behind. If you
aren’t constantly choosing healthy then your body will suffer. I
plan on raising my children that way from birth.”

Nan drew a deep breath. She’d grown up
with practically nothing, but she wouldn’t trade the lazy
afternoons she’d spent daydreaming under the ancient oak tree near
her family’s trailer for what Brad described. Did he ever enjoy ice
cream treats and chocolates? Have pretend tea parties in a mud
hole, or go on cloud watching picnics with messy hot
dogs?

The beat of the music changed. The
drummer tapped out a fast tempo as the band launched into
Johnny B. Goode
. Brad stopped
dancing and pulled her off to the side of the dance
floor.”

“I don’t do fast,” he said and Nan nodded.

She felt so off key with Brad. What
was wrong with her? Maybe she was coming down with a virus. She
felt a little dizzy. “I could use a drink,” she said over the
music.

“
Me, too. I’ll be right
back.”

Brad left for the cash bar before she had the chance
to tell him what she wanted to drink. Then she relaxed, remembering
he was on call. He’d bring back a Coke or something, she told
herself as she watched him. He didn’t saunter and he didn’t march,
his determined stride fell somewhere between and never wavered. He
cut an impressive and confident figure in a room full of
people.

So why was her gaze turning back to see Jackson
rather than watching Brad?

Jackson finished one song and then
eased into the sensual sway of a song she hadn’t heard in years.
“Baby I’m-a Want You” by David Gates echoed seductively throughout
the ballroom.

He’d climbed off the stage to the
dance floor and walked among the swaying couples as he sang. Gasps
and sighs escaped the lips of the women as he caressed one woman’s
cheek then ran a finger through another woman’s hair.

Nan’s heart pounded, her breath
rasped, and her body tingled as Jackson walked her way. She told
herself that she should turn and run after Brad. But she didn’t,
she stood her ground as he walked right up to her.

He was so close, she could feel the
heat of his body, smell his arousing scent, and see the want in his
eyes as he sang, changing the words of the song.

“
Lady, I
want you. Lady, I need you
. You’re the only one I care
enough to
dream
about.”

His blue eyes, full of fire, lit on
hers and he seemed to slide right into her soul. It was only for an
instant then he moved on, singing the original words to the
song.

Nan stood still, not breathing, not
thinking. Not doing anything but vibrating from the impact. For a
moment, Jackson had reached out and connected with her soul, where
no man had gone before.

She had to get out of there
fast.

She dashed to Brad just as he left the
bar with their drinks. “Come on,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I
need some fresh air.”

Brad handed her a goblet and
followed.

The air in the ornate hallway felt a
hundred degrees cooler than the ballroom. Nan took a big gulp of
her drink to give herself some recovery time before she had to
speak to Brad. The white wine tingled all the way down. She gasped,
nearly choking.

Brad pounded her back. “You
okay?”

“
Fine,” Nan wheezed
out.

“
Hey, Swanson.” A man who
looked as if he bought his clothes on daily trips to Italy walked
up. “I was on my way to find you. A few of us on the board are
putting together a little weekend yachting trip. You
interested?”

Brad shook the man’s hand. “Steve,
meet Nancy Miller. Nancy, Dr. Steve Dennison, plastic surgeon and
long time friend.”

Nan met Steve’s handshake with a firm
grip, liking his tanned sea captain smile. He was young and
attractive.

He turned to Brad. “I won’t take no
for an answer.”

Brad shook his head. “I really don’t
think I can. I’m head speaker at a medical convention in New York
later this week. When I get back, I’ll be swamped.”

“
It won’t be until the
next weekend, so you’ll have plenty of time to recover.” Steve held
up his hand to stave off any more excuses. “Even a machine needs
some down time. At least plan on coming to the party in the harbor
that Friday night. We won’t set sail until Saturday, but bring a
change of clothes in case you decide to stay. I’m hoping to set up
some challenging chess matches.”

Brad’s face brightened with the first
enthusiasm she’d seen out of him all evening. “Chess?”

“
Official timer and all.”
Dennison slapped Brad on the back. “I knew you had a weakness
somewhere. Bring Nancy along with you,” he added, nodding at
her.

Brad turned to her. “Interested in a
yachting trip, Nan?”

“
Well I. . .” She blinked,
momentarily surprised. Yachting for a weekend with several of the
hospital’s board members? That sounded like the cherry on top of
the sundae of life. Surely over a weekend’s time she could repair
some of the damage tonight’s dinner had done. Her chance at the
scholarship and her image as the spokesperson for the Trouble
Shooting Committee just might be salvageable. “I’ll have to check
my work schedule, but—”

“
I’ll smooth the way with
your supervisor,” Brad interjected. “We’ll come Friday night, but I
won’t make any promises beyond that.”

“
Excellent. I’ll see you
both then.” Steve started to leave then turned back. “Can you
believe Weldon up there on that stage.”

“
Yeah, I’ve seen him play
before.”

“
Who’d have thought he had
it in him back in Chicago.”

Brad frowned. “Did you ever hear why
he quit?”

“
No, never did. See you
Friday night.”

Jackson quit what? Apparently Brad and
Jackson knew each other. This came as a surprise to Nan. She
planned on asking Brad as soon as she found some fresh air. She was
still feeling a bit faint and her headache had worsened. She
shouldn't have had that gulp of wine, and ditched what was left on
a tray before they exited the building.

Drawing a deep breath, she leaned
against the white portico pillar. The rain had stopped, but thunder
still rolled across the night sky. Even the usual salty, night-
cool breeze from the Atlantic bowed low, subservient to the storm.
The air was steamy and still.

“
Nan,” Brad said, leaning
close enough to surprise her. “I’m going to kiss you.” He looked as
if he was waiting for her approval and she nodded, feeling more
that just a little off.

He pulled her into his arms and
pressed his mouth to hers, passionately and she moved closer to
him, looking for a spark, even a glimmer of desire to light. Brad
was the perfect man, intelligent, successful, and driven. Fireworks
should be bursting inside her.

He leaned her back over his arm, a
southern man about to devour a southern lady. Nan waited for the
kiss to deepen; sure her body would catch on to what her brain was
hinting.

His cell phone blared and Brad jerked
upright as if hit by lightning. He shifted to grab his phone,
setting them off balance and Nan barely avoided landing on her lacy
decorated derrière. No thanks to Brad, he was already talking on
the phone then hung up.

“
That was Dr. Barra,” he
explained. “There’s an emergency at the hospital and she wants me
to consult with her.”

"I understand,” Nan said between
gritted teeth. As Brad escorted her back inside the Yacht club, she
puzzled over her irritation. She above all people understood
dedication. If someone had called her about a patient, she would go
without question. It took her a few minutes to pinpoint her
problem. Brad had made all the right motions, acted like he was
consumed with passion, but the slightest buzz from his cell and it
was as if he’d never been kissing her. And he hadn't really.
Jackson would have finished the kiss before answering the
phone.

Bella Barracuda met them
inside.

“
I’m sorry about this,
Nan” Brad said.

“
It’s not a problem.” Nan
nodded to Bella Barracuda, then smiled at Brad.

Brad nodded as if he expected no other
answer, then started to turn away but swung back. “Oh, Nan. There’s
something I want you to see. Can I pick you up about six on
Monday?”