With a Little Help (5 page)

When Angie left them alone, he leaned forward. “Never mind the details. I can read them when I get home. Talk me through how you see the night unfolding.”

He meant the party night, she reminded herself, but visions of where they might go after dinner ran riot through her mind.

 

N
ATE WATCHED HER, HIS THOUGHTS
racing. Normally he did the bay walk with half his mind still back at the hospital. Tonight, his patients had barely entered his mind. It was true, his assistant was competent. Nate had trained Grace Lockwood himself. And she was backed by a team he'd also handpicked. Still, finding himself totally in the moment, as he'd been with Emma tonight, was unusual enough to make him wonder what was going on.

“I did some research into your life,” she began.

Instantly he felt his hackles rise. “My life story isn't your concern.”

“Everything about my client is my concern,” she countered. “I can't tailor an event to suit someone I don't know.”

“Point taken.” All the same, it bothered him. He wasn't ashamed of his background but it didn't fill him with pride, either. Warring parents and a rebel half brother were hardly the Brady Bunch. “I can't imagine you learned anything useful from what's on record.”

She stirred her coffee, looking thoughtful. “You'd be surprised. For instance, I suspect you never had much of a family life.”

Only his training kept the surprise off his face.
“My father's the backbone of his town, and my mother's been with my stepdad for more than twenty years. Isn't that stable enough for you?”

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “In my experience, pillars of the community don't have a lot of time for their own families.”

Poker-faced, he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. She'd started this, let her finish it. “Go on.”

“Busy professional parents often don't make time to cook and eat with their kids.”

“True.” He hated the admission, but damn it, she was right. Growing up, he'd spent more time eating with his friends' families than with his own. Later, medical texts had been his main dinner companions.

“If you're used to eating out all the time and exploring exotic foods, where's the novelty in doing more of the same?”

“You tell me.”

Warming to her topic, she went on. “I want to hire a bunch of large old-style tables, dress them as family settings and serve the kind of comfort food we associate with growing up, like sausages and mash.”

A feeling he recognized as resistance strummed through him. He didn't want reminders of what he'd never had. He scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to chase away the discomfort. Emma didn't need to feel sorry for him, or know as much about
him as she evidently did. He felt exposed, and lashed out instinctively.

“Is this a dinner or a therapy session?” Taking his anger out on her wasn't fair, but he didn't feel fair right now. Because she was getting too close to home? He shoved that thought away, too.

“It's a party,” she said.

Her tone didn't change but he saw her eyes cloud with hurt, making him feel brutal. He wanted to take back his words and kiss away the self-doubt he'd sown.

Instead, Nate played devil's advocate. “Do you seriously mean to serve my guests sausages and mash?”

“Yes, except the sausage will be
saucisse de Toulouse,
the homemade sausage you find in a French cassoulet,” she pointed out, “served the way our mothers would have done if they'd had a clue.”

“Just because you had problems with your parents doesn't mean everyone does,” he said, annoyed at sounding so defensive.

“I only said that they were busy with careers and demands outside their homes. I'll bet many of your guests' childhoods were the same. They'll get the biggest kick out of this experience. And if their families were close, it will be a nostalgia trip.”

He drained his coffee. “Personally, I think nostalgia is overrated.”

 

O
N THE TABLE BETWEEN THEM
, Nate's phone jumped, startling them both. When he flipped it open, Emma told herself she'd been lucky to have his undivided attention for this long.

He didn't like her idea for his party. No, he resisted her idea, she amended the thought. His childhood had mirrored her own, she'd swear to it. His hurt probably ran every bit as deep. But being a man, he'd made a virtue of toughness, refusing to admit his feelings to anyone, perhaps not even to himself.

Should she offer him another option that wouldn't push so many buttons? It was her job to give her clients wonderful food and a memorable event, not to fix whatever troubled them. It also wasn't her job to socialize with them, but she'd done it tonight. And sat with him in his favorite café while the sun set around them. And wished he was with her because he wanted to be.

Get a grip, she instructed herself. Nate was already so focused on his call, he'd forgotten she existed. So what if he was disappointed with her? She hadn't wanted to work with him from the start. Being around such a physically attractive man had distracted her from reality, that was all. Their priorities were still light-years apart.

With the truth staring her in the face, she stood up then remembered she had no money with her for a cab, and her only way home was in Nate's car.

He lifted a hand, gesturing for her to wait.
Resentment flared until she saw the look on his face. Instead of calm, medical competence, she read something like fear.

She sat down again and linked her hands on the table. His side of the conversation suggested something was wrong, but she didn't know him well enough to put the pieces together. When he closed the phone, his look was shuttered. “I'll call a cab to get you home.”

“I don't have…”

He got to his feet. “I know. This should cover the fare.”

She had no choice but to accept the notes he held out, although the dismissal rankled. “Can I do anything to help?”

“See yourself home.”

As if she hadn't already worked that out. “I mean with whatever's happened.”

His arctic look raked her. “For what it's worth, you were right when you said my family life wasn't up to much. The proof is my messed-up half brother, Luke. He's taken off in my mother's car.”

“You think he might come to you?”

“If we're lucky. If not, he's risking his neck with the tough kids he hangs out with when he should be at school.”

Her breath escaped in a rush. “I had no idea, Nate, or I wouldn't have forced my scheme on you.”

His hands skimmed her shoulders, the touch fiery.
“You didn't. I have to help find Luke, but I'll go over your proposal as soon as I can and be in touch.”

“Thanks.” No way would he accept her ideas after this. She felt foolishly disappointed.

When the cab arrived, Nate hurriedly helped her into it, and Emma struggled not to feel bitter. She didn't expect him to choose between her and his brother. The truth was she wanted to stay and help him, not be sent away. “Let me know if there's anything I can do,” she said, wishing she had more to offer.

“Sure.” He closed the door. But instead of heading for his car, he waited while the cab pulled away, cutting a solitary figure in the light spilling from the Flying Fox Café.

A powerful urge to have the driver turn around and take her back to Nate made Emma catch her breath. There was nothing she could do. She'd be in his way. Leaving him alone was the only sensible option. At the same time, it didn't seem right.

A
N ODD EMPTINESS WRENCHED AT
Nate as he watched Emma's cab accelerate out of sight. He should be with her, not heading off on another wild-goose chase to bail out his brother.

Nate had been twenty when Luke was born. Rather than develop in his own time, Luke had wanted to keep up with Nate. Trying to compete at sports when sheer size gave Nate the advantage was the least of Luke's problems. At twelve, he'd linked up with a street gang, drinking and acting tough, thinking he'd found a shortcut to manhood.

In sight of the Branxton, Nate pressed the remote and was soon pulling out into the traffic with only a rough idea of where to start looking. His mother and stepfather had to take some of the blame, he knew. His half brother's life had been very different from Nate's. More time, money and attention were lavished on the younger boy, for all the good it did him.

Instead of coming down hard the first time Luke went off the rails, his parents had tried counseling, and when that failed, bribery. But they'd only in
creased Luke's sense of entitlement, and he became more headstrong and out of control.

Now he was fifteen with a boy's mind in a man's body and friends who gave Nate the shivers when he had to be around them. Mostly veterans of jails and halfway houses in their teens, they cared for nothing and nobody but themselves.

Nate felt his mouth thin. Was it any wonder he'd resisted Emma's vision of a nostalgic family dinner for his birthday? She hadn't been in his shoes, trying to keep his medical studies together while the family lurched from one Luke-driven drama to another.

The kid didn't know how well off he was, Nate thought, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. When Luke was born, both parents were there for him. His father came home on time most evenings. As a lawyer, Josh hadn't been on call at all hours and there was always money for whatever Luke wanted to do.

Focus, Nate told himself. What mattered now was finding the kid and their mother's car before anybody got hurt. A call to Joanna told him Luke hadn't shown up at his own house. He knew the gang's inner-city territory and headed there, scanning the side streets for the blue Audi his stepfather had given his mother on her last birthday.

There was no sign of the car near the boarded-up mechanic's workshop the gang used as their head
quarters, or at any of their usual haunts. If Luke was out joyriding, this could take all night.

But luck was with Nate. A few blocks further on he spotted the car parked across from a convenience store, and went cold. Luke was in the front passenger seat, two friends with him, all watching the store. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they had in mind. Well, not if Nate could help it. He eased the Branxton into the space in front of the Audi, almost touching bumpers. Then he leaned on the horn.

At the noise, lights popped on and a few choice phrases were hurled from upstairs windows, telling him where to stick the horn. A tall, thin man appeared at the front of the store carrying a baseball bat in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

Nate wound down his window as Luke appeared in the opening, his expression wild.

“What the hell you doing here, man?” he demanded.

“Saving you from yourself. Get in.”

“Piss off. I'm not a kid you can drag home. I have things to do tonight.”

Releasing the horn, Nate gestured toward the man with the baseball bat, the cell phone now pressed to his ear. “I can guess what kind of things. Your target looks like he's calling the cops. If you don't want to be here when they arrive, I suggest you get in. Now.”

Luke seemed confused, for a moment looking his
true age. “Man, this sucks. I'll never be able to face the guys after this.”

“That's the general idea.” Nate unlocked the passenger door. In the rearview mirror, he saw Luke's would-be accomplices abandon the Audi and slink off down an alley, also making themselves scarce before things heated up. Luke's fists crashed against the Branxton's roof and Nate winced, bracing himself for the stream of crude language that followed. “Feel better now?” he asked mildly.

Luke spat out some more phrases but slammed around to the passenger side and got in, slumping as far away from Nate as he could.

Nate got out, retrieved the keys and locked the Audi. No actual crime had been committed, so the cops couldn't charge Luke with anything, although they could trace the car to his mother. When he returned, Luke hadn't moved, but fastened his seat belt at Nate's command and stayed sullenly silent on the drive home.

Judging by his stepfather's white-faced anger as he heard the story, Nate guessed Luke was in for a rough time. But it was rougher than Nate expected. “Josh is trying to arrange for Luke to spend some time behind bars as part of a program to head off criminal behavior,” his mother told him when father and son were out of earshot.

Being gentle with Luke sure hadn't worked, Nate thought. He'd heard about such programs, and as
a lawyer, his stepfather had the right connections. “Tough love is sometimes the only solution,” he said.

He saw his mother's eyes brim. “I wanted us to be a happy family. By leaving your father, I only caused a new set of problems, didn't I?”

Nate patted her shoulder. “You did what you thought was right at the time. Luke's a good kid at heart. He just needs to know the world doesn't exist for his benefit.”

“You never thought it did. Why can't he be more like you, helping people instead of hurting them?”

“Trying to be like me is half his problem,” Nate insisted. “I'll always have a twenty-year head start. Luke needs to find out who he is, and what he can become. It might help if you stop comparing us so much.”

She nodded. “You're right, and I'll try. Thanks for getting him out of trouble tonight. If those other boys had ganged up on you instead of running away…”

The same thought had occurred to Nate. “They didn't.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I'd better get home. It's been a long day.”

“Were you at work when Josh called you?”

Nate felt his face heat. “I was having dinner with a business associate.”

She read the truth in his heightened color. “I hope she's nice.”

She is, thought Nate as he left the house without
enlightening his mother any further. Emma was much too nice for the way he'd treated her tonight. Luke's need for a sense of belonging and his mother's wish for a happy family suggested Emma's idea had merit. Maybe Brady Bunch families were pie-in-the-sky, but could it hurt to enjoy the fantasy for one night?

Emma was also dangerous, he thought as he drove home. She planted ideas in his head he could do without, like sitting at a large table, a woman beside him, and a bunch of kids of different ages around them. How many times had
that
been reality, even just the three of them, when his mother was still married to his father? Now his family was in an uproar over Luke. And Emma herself had grown up with absentee parents. No fantasies for any of them.

By the time Nate got home, fatigue was setting in like a drug. Joanna had left Emma's envelope on the hall table with the rest of his mail. He resisted the urge to pick it up simply because it came from her, and headed to the shower.

Half an hour later, barefoot and clad only in sleep shorts, he walked into the living room carrying the envelope but placed it on the coffee table. He was too wired to relax and would never make sense of anything he read. Emma deserved better.

Thoughts of her jumbled with the difficult case he'd handled earlier today. Twice his patient had died on the table, and twice they'd brought the man back from the edge in a stressful nine hours of surgery.
No wonder Nate had needed to burn off tension with physical exertion. Inviting Emma along had been a practical use of time. It had nothing to do with the fact he felt refreshed being with her.

He stopped pacing and ran his palms over his damp hair. He'd hated sending her away, but needed to know she was safe. Nate's blood chilled as he thought of what could have happened if Luke's friends had taken him on. Not long ago, he'd caught Luke sharpening a large screwdriver, the gang's weapon of choice. If the night had turned out differently, Nate could have ended up on his own operating table. Risking his safety was one thing, but he hadn't been about to risk hers.

He hoped Luke had learned something tonight, or would after the day behind bars his father had planned for him. Tough love, Nate thought. Was there any other kind?

He poured a stiff Scotch, but let it sit beside Emma's envelope as he threw himself onto his favorite leather chaise, one of the few pieces of furniture the decorator had recommended that accommodated his long legs. He couldn't remember when he'd felt more tired or less ready for sleep.

With a sigh he reached for the envelope. As he flipped through the folder, he was impressed by the pains she'd taken, not only in planning the menu, but in suggesting how the event should be stage-managed to best effect.

He'd barely started reading when the print blurred before his eyes. Massaging his temples didn't help. He became aware of how silent the house was. Joanna preferred not to live in, and had left for the night. Normally, Nate enjoyed the quiet, but tonight he felt lonely. He tried not to picture Emma curled at the other end of the couch, and was irritated at how easily her image filled his mind. No way would he see her there in his lifetime.

With good reason. He remembered only too well the many nights his mother had sat up waiting for his father, while dinner shriveled along with the love his parents had once shared. The memory was still in Nate's mind as he drifted off, the folder open on his knees and the drink untouched.

 

E
MMA'S THOUGHTS WERE
in overdrive. She'd changed into lounging pajamas and was stretched out on the sofa with a mug of chamomile tea, trying to unwind enough for bed. Shopping at the markets for fresh ingredients for the bowlers' club lunch felt like days ago instead of first thing this morning. Between helping prep the food, and working up the proposal for Nate, she'd put in a full day, and that was before doing his seven-kilometer walk.

Not that she'd done herself much good. He'd invited her along for his convenience, not because he wanted her company. It wasn't—couldn't be—personal. Her mother thought he was ideal husband
material, but like all the medical types Emma knew, Nate was already married to his work. All the same, his rejection of her family-dinner concept had singed her pride.

But he cared enough about his half brother to go off into the night to find him. She sipped her tea. His anguish had been genuine, and for Luke rather than himself. The contrast between Nate's concern and her father's coldness the day she got lost in the bush was impossible to ignore.

She glanced at the Marilyn Monroe clock on the wall, the movie legend's white skirt forever billowing as time marched past her. It was midnight but Emma wouldn't sleep until she knew what had happened with Luke. Until she knew Nate was safe. She chased that thought away and picked up the phone.

Several rings later, she was about to hang up when he answered, “Hale speaking.”

She recognized his surgeon's voice. He probably thought someone from the hospital was calling. “It's Emma,” she said quickly. “I hope I didn't wake you up.”

“I was reading your proposal. I didn't realize I'd dozed off.”

Flattery will get you everywhere,
she thought, miffed that her work had managed to put him to sleep. “I gather the crisis with Luke is over.” She had trouble keeping the hurt out of her voice. “I'll call back another time.”

“It's okay, I'm awake now.”

She imagined him rubbing his chin between thumb and forefinger in a gesture she already knew was characteristic. “I only wanted to see if you found Luke.” And to know you were okay.

“Yeah, I found him.” He paused and she heard ice clink in a glass. “Luckily before he and two of his gang robbed a convenience store.”

“You didn't try to stop them on your own!” Three against one. Her breath snagged. This time she couldn't hold back the reaction. “Oh, my God, are you all right?”

“Worried about me, Emma?” The surgeon's crisp voice slid into a huskier, more intimate tone.

The picture of him fighting off a gang of hulking teenagers was vivid and disturbing. She took refuge in anger. “Of course I was. Why didn't you call the police?”

“If I'd known what to tell them, I would have. But until I saw Luke and his mates casing the store, I was flying blind.”

Her breathing shallowed. “Then I suppose you waded in with fists flying.”

The ice clinked again and she heard him swallow. “I wasn't risking my hands. I simply made enough noise to ruin their plan. Luke came over to my car to ream me out, and his fine friends couldn't get out of there fast enough.”

The gang could still have turned on him. She
imagined Nate sprawled on the road, hurt or worse. “What about your brother?”

“Luke's okay, too. After tonight, he hates my guts, but I can live with that as long as he stays out of trouble. My stepfather intends to make sure he does.”

Tears blurred her vision. Todd's air of superiority might rankle because he was the doctor, but her brother had never given their family such grief. “I hope it works,” she said.

“Makes two of us,” Nate agreed. “After all the drama, I need something else in my head. Tell me what you're doing at this moment.”

“Besides calling you?” she asked, feeling her face heat. Why hadn't she texted him instead of getting herself into this?

“Yep. Start with what you're wearing.”

Shock made her blurt out the truth. “Coffee-colored lounging pajamas.”

“Nothing else?”

Her stomach knotted. “Nate!”