Dr. Wonderful Page 10

  “I had a few teachers who felt like that,” Matt said. “They always inspired me.”

  “Only a few?”

  “Ever heard the expression that truth is the first casualty of war?”

  Becca nodded.

  “In South L.A., idealism was the first casualty of teaching. But I’m interrupting. Please, go on with your story.”

  She tried to picture the cool and polished man before her in the rough-and-tumble neighborhood he referred to—and failed. Wealth and privilege seemed so ingrained in the man, it was impossible to imagine him without them.

  She returned to her story. “With Granny’s help and a scholarship, I was able to go to college. Got my teaching degree. Granny wanted me to come back to Warwick Mountain, but I’d had a taste of the outside world at Chapel Hill, and I wasn’t ready to come home.”

  “You stayed in the state. Why didn’t you go somewhere more exotic, like Alaska or New York City?”

  “Much as I wanted new experiences, I realized Granny was getting older and having health problems. I didn’t want to be so far away, I couldn’t reach her within a few hours of driving.”

  “Why Pinehurst?”

  “It’s a resort town—the closest I could find to exotic near to home. People come from all over to play the golf courses there. I figured if I couldn’t travel, I could at least meet interesting people from different parts of the world.”

  “Makes sense.” He got up, grabbed the coffeepot, topped off her cup and filled one for himself before sitting again.

  She drank more coffee and, in spite of Matt’s claim to the contrary, could feel the effects of the wine gradually dissipating. “When the opening for a third-grade teacher in Pinehurst was posted at the job fair the month before I graduated, I applied and was accepted immediately.”

  “Sounds like an auspicious beginning,” he said with a hint of admiration in his voice. “You must have had quite a résumé.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, but I think the teacher shortage had the greater impact on my speedy hiring.”

  “So you moved to Pinehurst?”

  “Only after spending most of the summer with Granny. We drove down together to find me an apartment and for her to see my school. I was restless to move and begin my new life, but Granny wasn’t well, so I stayed in Warwick Mountain as long as I could. I’d have been better off if I’d never left.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

  “But you wouldn’t have Emily,” Matt noted. “She’s a remarkable little girl.”

  “You’re right.” She felt the resentment ease its hold on her. “Having Emily is worth all that happened.”

  The sun had set, the air had cooled, and Becca, dressed in shorts and a sleeveless blouse, shivered.

  “I need a fireplace,” Matt said, observing her shivers. “Or at least a baseboard heater.” He walked to the armoire, pulled out the bulky fisherman’s sweater he’d worn the morning he met the Habersham sisters and handed it to her. “But this will have to do.”

  “Thanks.” Becca slid the garment over her head, and its volume engulfed her all the way to her thighs. She pushed back the drooping sleeves to expose her hands, and snuggled comfortably into its soft warmth. The sweater carried Matt’s distinctive, provocative scent, and made her feel as if she had slipped into his arms. The image wrecked her concentration. “Where was I?”

  “You’d just moved to Pinehurst.” He pulled on a forest-green sweater that accentuated the golden sun streaks in his hair, the width of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest, and returned to his seat.

  Maybe the dropping temperature, along with the coffee, had cleared her head, because she no longer felt the dizzying effects from the wine. “It’s an old story, one I’m sure you’ve heard a thousand times—”

  “I never heard your story,” he said, “but if telling it’s too painful—”

  Becca waited for the sharp stab of hurt that usually surfaced whenever she thought of Grady, but it didn’t appear. “I don’t want to bore you.”

  “Rebecca Warwick.” His remarkable eyes bored into hers. “You’re the least boring woman I ever met.”

  She laughed with surprise. “I find that hard to believe.”

  He scowled. “You calling me a liar?”

  “Considering the women you’ve been rumored to hang out with, I’d say you’re more like a shameless flatterer.”

  His frown remained. “Why would I do that?”

  She shrugged. “I learned the hard way I’m not very good at judging men’s motives.”

  The chiseled lines of his face dissolved into an expression of concern so intense she had to look away. “Your hurt runs deep, doesn’t it?”

  She lifted her chin, glad she could say honestly, “Not as deep as I once thought. I guess time does heal all wounds.”

  “And wounds all heels?” he added with a smile.

  “One can only hope.” She returned his smile, then sobered again. “My first year of teaching was a mixture of ecstasy and terror.”

  “Terror?”

  “As much as they taught me in college, I wasn’t prepared for the day-to-day challenges and unexpected crises of the classroom. I’ve discovered since, after talking with more experienced teachers, that you have to dive in over your head and learn as you go.”

  “Sounds a lot like practicing medicine,” he observed.

  She folded her legs beneath her and pulled his sweater over her knees to warm them. She felt as comfortable with him as if she were sitting in her own living room, talking with Granny.

  “In January of my first teaching year,” she continued, “the chamber of commerce held a teacher-appreciation breakfast at a local resort owned by Raymond Sadler. All the teachers were invited. We sat at tables with the local businesspeople, and I ended up next to Grady Sadler, son of the resort’s owner.”

  “Love at first sight?” Matt asked gently.

  Becca grimaced. “I thought so at the time. I was too green and inexperienced to know better. Grady was handsome, wealthy and charming.” All the qualities you possess, she thought. “And most mesmerizing of all, he seemed totally interested in me.” She threw Matt a self-effacing grin. “I didn’t have a chance.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Barely twenty-one, but I’d led a sheltered life on Warwick Mountain. In many ways, even after four years of college, I was totally naive.” She snuggled deeper into the corner of the sofa. “Unlike, I’m sure, the women you meet in Hollywood.”

  “They may arrive naive,” Matt admitted, “but the social scene is a jungle. Hard to remain innocent among all that self-serving hedonism.”

  “What about your own innocence?” she challenged, amazed by her boldness.

  “Lost that when my mother died.” The pain in his expression spoke volumes. “I knew then the world was a cruel and dangerous place.” He shook his head and the hurt in his eyes cleared. “But that’s my story. I want to hear the rest of yours.”

  “There’s not much else to tell. Grady sent me flowers. Took me to all the best restaurants. Invited himself up to my apartment. You can guess the rest. I was so bowled over by the attentiveness of Pinehurst’s most eligible bachelor, I forgot everything Granny had ever taught me. By spring break, I realized I was pregnant.”

  “What did Grady think of that?” Matt asked.

  “He was horrified. And horrid. Asked me if I was sure the baby was his.”

  “Ouch,” Matt said with sympathy.

  “His callous attitude destroyed the fantasy I’d created around him. Oh, he was handsome, wealthy and charming all right, but about as shallow as a saucer, and interested only in himself.”

  “So he wouldn’t marry you?”

  “He said he would, but he kept delaying setting a date.”

  “You would have married a man you didn’t love?” Matt shot her a disbelieving look.

  “He was the father of my unborn baby, and I believe every child needs a father.” As she spoke the words,
she realized that Grady’s refusal to marry her had probably saved her from a living hell. And eventual divorce.

  “One day,” she continued, “a week before the school term ended, his father came to my apartment. He offered me a check for a hundred thousand dollars if I’d leave town and keep my baby’s paternity a secret.”

  “Is that why Emily doesn’t know who her father is?” Matt appeared shocked.

  “We have a word in Warwick Mountain for women who take money for sex,” Becca said hotly, “and I’m not one of those. I tore Mr. Sadler’s check into tiny pieces and threw him out. As soon as school ended, I resigned my position and came home to have Emily.”

  “And you never heard from Grady?”

  “Not directly. I read in the Asheville paper when he married the daughter of a state senator. I’m sure wherever he is now, his daddy’s still buying his way out of trouble.”

  “You’re lucky to be rid of him,” Matt said forcefully.

  Becca sighed. “I know. I just wish I could rid myself of feeling like a fool.”

  “Not a fool,” Matt said with a shake of his head. “Just human.”

  She eyed him closely then, wondering if a woman had ever duped him as Grady had her, but she couldn’t imagine it. Matt seemed too savvy, too in control.

  “Was it rough coming back here?” he asked.

  “Granny was wonderful. She saw how miserable I was and never let an I-told-you-so slip, even if she thought it.”

  “I was thinking more of the neighbors. They may be fine people, as you’ve insisted, but open-mindedness doesn’t seem one of their more prevalent virtues.” His voice held a strange note, and for the first time, she realized he’d apparently been more wounded than she’d realized by their ostracism.

  “Oh, I caused a scandal, all right.” She allowed herself a rueful smile. “If it had been up to me, I’d have hidden in Granny’s house for the rest of my life and never shown my face. But Granny had other ideas.”

  “Must have been hard for you.”

  Becca nodded, remembering. “At first, but Granny was right. Better to face people and hold my head up than to act ashamed. When we went to church, people would ask when I was returning to Pinehurst to teach. ‘She’s not,’ Granny would say. ‘She’s staying here to have her baby.”’

  Granny had stood like a ramrod and faced them down, Becca recalled proudly. “‘Didn’t know Becca was married,’ the bolder ones would comment. Granny would look them in the eye and say in her calm but firm way, ‘Becca’s a single mother. She’s going to need our help.”’

  “I wish I could have met her,” Matt said. “She sounds like quite a woman.”

  “She was. I really miss her. By the time Emily was born, thanks to Granny, most of the scandal—or at least any open sign of it—had died. So far, Emily’s been lucky. No one’s taunted her about not having a father.”

  A puzzled frown creased Matt’s forehead. “If the local school board is so hung up on morality, how’d you convince them to hire you, considering the circumstances of Emily’s birth?”

  “When Emily was a year old, Miss Carlisle, who’d been teaching here forever, had a stroke. I filled in as a substitute. The board liked my work, and offered me a permanent position.” She stifled the urge to yawn and glanced at her watch. “It’s past Emily’s bedtime. She’s probably fallen asleep at Aunt Delilah’s.”

  “Want me to drive you?” Matt offered again.

  Becca stood and said, “No, thanks. I’m fine. Really. But I have to hurry.”

  She rushed through the building, out the door and down the stairs. Matt caught up with her when she reached her car. He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “I haven’t thanked you for bringing dinner.”

  “No need—”

  He dipped his head and kissed her, stopping her from saying more. The pressure of his lips at first was gentle, and he tasted deliciously of coffee and a seductive masculine essence. Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her close until she fitted every contour of his body as if she’d been made to order, just for him. The excitement of his kiss scrambled her brain, short-circuited her reasoning, and she lifted her arms, twined them around his neck, and felt the jolt of his kiss all the way to her toes.

  What was she doing?

  Before she could react and pull away, he released her. Cupping her face in his hands, he gazed into her eyes, his own shining with a fierce brilliance in the moonlight.

  “Grady Sadler,” he said through gritted teeth, “was an idiot.”

  Before Becca could reply, Matt turned on his heel and strode up the stairs to the loading dock. He stopped there and called back to her. “I’ll pick you up day after tomorrow for our visit to Lydia. Maybe we can stop and see the McClains at the same time.”

  Becca nodded, too shaken by the effects of his kiss to speak.

  “Call me,” he said, “if you decide to get a dog. And don’t forget to lock your doors tonight.”

  She nodded again. With legs trembling, she climbed into her car and drove away. In her rearview mirror, she could see Matt silhouetted by the light from the double doors, watching her leave.

  She was halfway to Aunt Delilah’s, still shaken by his unexpected kiss and her reaction, before she realized she still wore Matt’s sweater.

  Chapter Nine

  Matt manhandled a sheet of drywall against the studs and held it in place with his shoulder while securing it with screws. He’d overslept this morning and was off to a late start, primarily because he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before.

  Becca had kept him awake.

  Not that she’d been there. Her absence had been the problem. His body had ached for her through the night, and his mind hadn’t been able to let her go.

  Or his heart.

  Never had a woman possessed him so totally as the wonderfully simple—or should he say simply wonderful—schoolteacher. He’d felt abandoned last night when she drove away, and his new living quarters, which had suited him to a T before, had suddenly seemed barren and lonely.

  His brain felt fuzzy from lack of sleep, and if he’d been home in Malibu, he’d have taken a long swim in the cold Pacific to clear his mind.

  Of course, if he were at home in Malibu, he wouldn’t have met the schoolmarm and he wouldn’t be having this problem.

  The mountain air was affecting his reasoning. Why should Becca Warwick, beautiful as she was, he argued with himself, have a hold on him that none of Hollywood’s most glamorous women had managed?

  Was it because he was lonely, a fish out of water in this isolated mountain village and she was a very attractive, friendly face?

  That argument wouldn’t wash. She was polite, hospitable and appreciative of his willingness to treat patients in the village, but friendly? She obviously disapproved of him and his lifestyle. And he’d had to twist her arm to convince her to stay for dinner last night.

  Then why had she opened up to him and shared the story of the most humiliating time of her life?

  That answer was easy. The wine had gone to her head. Becca apparently wasn’t used to drinking. That fact gave him pause. He’d dated petite actresses who could imbibe all night, indulge in other illegal substances, and still be bright-eyed and pert when the sun was rising.

  Even though he was a doctor, for the first time he felt suddenly offended that these women had abused their bodies so flagrantly.

  Matt stopped, holding a sheet of drywall in midair. He’d never thought that way before about the women he’d dated. Drug and alcohol abuse were the norm for the Hollywood social scene. That explained why meeting a woman like Becca was like a breath of fresh air.

  Was he falling for a Goody Two-shoes?

  Not a Goody Two-shoes, he realized with a jolt, but a woman who had self-respect.

  So much self-respect that she got herself knocked up by the first guy she’d dated?

  Matt shook his head. So much self-respect that she tore up a hundred-thousand-dollar check, a bribe for her silence
and a fortune for a woman like Becca, rather than let herself be bought off by a worthless scum and his father.

  That self-respect was one of the main differences between Becca and the other women Matt had known. The others would have sold their souls for the right part, the trendiest look, the best connections. Becca’s values were as deeply rooted as Warwick Mountain itself.

  So why should he expect a woman like her to have anything to do with Dr. Wonderful, sex stud to the stars?

  Matt clenched his teeth in anger. He wasn’t the man the magazine had portrayed. Too close for comfort maybe, but he wasn’t as degenerate as the unrealistic picture the article had painted. Sure, he’d partied too hard, spent too much, passed his spare time in frivolous pursuits and enjoyed his sexual freedom, but he’d never broken a woman’s heart. He’d never made promises he wouldn’t keep. Certainly never left a woman high, dry and pregnant like that slimeball Grady.

  Was he trying to convince himself that he was worthy of a woman like Becca?

  Matt wasn’t talking about marrying her. He just wanted to be her friend.

  But he had been thinking of marriage—

  A high-pitched squeaky voice behind him jolted Matt from his churning thoughts. “Whatcha doing, mister?”

  Matt fumbled the drywall sheet back onto the sawhorses and turned toward the door. A small, slight figure, a child dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and well-worn sneakers with a Braves baseball cap pulled low on his face stood in the shadows.

  “I’m hanging drywall,” Matt said.

  “Why?”

  “To make an office.”

  “What kind of office?”

  “A doctor’s office.” Although Matt wondered why he bothered, after what Becca had told him last night.

  “Where’s the doctor?” the boy, who appeared to be around eight years old, asked.

  “You’re looking at him.”

  “Didn’t know doctors did work.”

  “Some doctors have been known to break a sweat,” Matt said dryly.

  “Are you the doctor who’s going to fix my face?”

  Now the boy had Matt’s complete attention. “What’s wrong with your face?”