Barbara McMahon - Starting with a Kiss

“Great, another setup. I didn’t like Dr. Taylor’s solution, so I don’t want yours. I have to go. Please forget we had this conversation.”

She hung up the phone and headed for the bedroom. Even if he called back, she’d refuse to pick up. She’d had enough—and revealed far too much!

Only Carol had known why she felt uncertain around men. She’d been the only one to whom Abby had given the full details of her fiasco with Terry Bolton. She couldn’t seem to shake the lasting anxiety in her own femininity that debacle had engendered. Well, not anxiety precisely. More distrust. Uncertainty. She didn’t trust her own instincts anymore.

Getting ready for bed, she thought about Jeb. She’d misread that situation, obviously. But they’d been friends for so long. And when Carol died, they’d seem to become even closer. Nothing had ever been said, so when had she begun to assume they’d get married one day?

By Saturday, Abby’s curiosity about Greg’s sister’s boutique had grown. Dressing casually in dark brown slacks and a cream blouse, she decided to spend the morning just browsing. For a few minutes she debated enlisting Kim’s help, but decided against it. Somehow the dress Kim had talked her into hadn’t been the success she’d hoped for.

She could hear the echo of Jeb’s scathing comment.

Then she remembered what Greg had said. Maybe it hadn’t been totally bad.

It was early when she reached Maiden Lane. None of the trendy shops were yet opened. Passing time by gazing into the windows, Abby questioned what she was doing. Just because some arrogant man had suggested she try the boutique wasn’t any real reason to do so. If she had her way, Dr. Greg Hastings would never know whether she had taken his advice or not. So why was she here?

The shop she stood in front of opened its doors. She checked her watch and headed back down the short street to the boutique. Finding it now open, she entered and was immediately impressed with its understated elegance. The place was larger than it looked from the small storefront, displaying suits, dresses and evening wear with loving care. To the right, frothy undergarments denoted the small lingerie section.

There were none of the tightly jammed racks she was used to in department stores. Here and there a few special dresses hung for ease in viewing, with mannequins displaying choice items.

Abby found herself gazing at a long, sultry slip dress in midnight-blue that whispered sex appeal. That’s what she’d like to wear. But would it look as good on her as the mannequin?

Jeb’s words echoed once again.

“Hello, may I help you?” A tall, slender woman appeared from the back. Her friendly smile relaxed Abby instantly.

“I’m just looking, thanks,” she said, stepping to the rack nearest her. The silky feel of the blouses delighted her senses.

“Took my advice, I see.” The masculine voice surprised her. She looked up—into Greg Hastings’s amused eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Abby asked, surprised to see him. She almost groaned aloud. So much for keeping her activities secret.

“I took Pam to breakfast. I dropped her off here and was ready to leave when I heard you.”

Embarrassed to be caught, Abby nodded stiffly. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to see what she had.”

“A friend of yours, Greg?” the other woman asked.

“Dr. Abby Trent, meet my sister, Pam Schuler.”

“Ah, how do you do, Dr. Trent?” Pam smiled, glancing at her brother.

Abby knew he’d said something to his sister about her and wished she could just spin around and dash away. But that would be bad manners and she already had enough on her plate with Dr. Hastings.

“You have a lovely place,” Abby said, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Why wouldn’t the man just leave?

“Thank you. Anything special in mind?” Pam asked genially.

“No. Just browsing.”

“Get her a few things for evening and all. And something for the ball, don’t forget,” Greg said irrepressibly.

“I can choose my own clothes, Dr. Hastings!”

“Mmm.” His gaze roamed over her from the open neck of her blouse to the tip of her toes.

Abby raised her chin and turned away. “I think I’ll come back another time.”

“No, don’t go,” Pam said. Turning to her brother, she frowned at him. “Thanks for breakfast. Now if you don’t want to ruin my business, take yourself away!”

“I’m not ruining anything.”

“Go!”

“Maybe Dr. Trent would like me to stay.”

Abby met his dancing eyes. “I don’t care what you do, I have other errands.” She turned as if to head for the door, feeling as foolish as a ten-year-old caught out spying on her older sister.

“Greg!” Pam said sharply.

“Okay, I’m going. This is the thanks I get for treating you to breakfast?”

“Next time you can drop me at the door. Goodbye!” Pam said, glaring at him.

“Dr. Trent, don’t let Greg’s teasing drive you away. I’d love for you to look around and see if there’s anything you might like.”

Pausing, Abby met Greg’s gaze, noticing the deep brown of his eyes. They seemed richer, deeper—interested. In her? No one had been really interested in her since high school. Or if they had been, she’d shut them out.

Yet just a single look from Greg Hastings and she felt flushed with femininity; she felt sexy, almost desirable. She wanted to fuss with her hair, check that her lipstick was still bright, ask if he would help her pick out a dress. Something like what that mannequin wore.

He was still talking with his sister and Abby watched him, unable to look away. Just because his hair looked as if she should brush it back from his forehead was no reason for her fingers to tingle with yearning. Just because his dark eyes gleamed when they glanced at her was no reason to want to have him stay when she really wanted him gone. Just because his lower lip was slightly fuller than his top lip was no reason for her own to tremble and long to feel that sensuous mouth move against her own. So why did her gaze keep dropping to his lips? Why did she wonder what he would taste like?

She’d told herself to stop all fantasies about Greg Hastings. They were medical colleagues—nothing more!

When he looked at her, she blinked. She saw Pam looking at her expectantly. Had he said something she’d missed? Had she been caught examining him? Catching herself in the spell of his presence, she tried to ignore the sensations flooding her body. He radiated raw sex appeal. For the first time in her life Abby felt—almost alluring.

“What?”

“I told Pam I thought you were after a new look. I suspect you’re tired of the reliable-doctor look in your free time,” he said, daring her to contradict him.

She ignored him and nodded at Pam. “He’s right, much as I hate to admit it. I would like a change.”

“Something to help her attract the opposite sex,” Greg added suggestively. The thought of transforming the quiet Dr. Trent into a femme fatale piqued his interest. And offered tantalizing possibilities. Maybe Rose’s suggestion hadn’t been so outlandish after all.

Glaring at him, Abby said, “Don’t you have to leave? I thought your sister told you to go.”

He almost laughed. “When you get to know me better, Abigail, you’ll know I rarely do what I’m told unless I want to.”

“I have no doubt about that,” she mumbled.

Trying to defuse the growing tension, Pam walked over to one of the display racks and pulled out a lovely cinnamon-colored dress. “How about something like this for evening. It’ll wear all day and still look fresh at night.”

“You ought to ask Rose for pointers on the dating scene. From what she tells me, she dates a different man every week,” Greg added, leaning casually against a mirror, watching Abby’s every move. If his sister really wanted him gone, he’d leave. But for now it was interesting to watch Abby’s reactions.