Jacqueline Diamond - Prescription - Marry Her Immediately

It came as a relief when the younger man moved away. Besides, the guy looked too callow for Amy.

Quent hoped he hadn’t annoyed her by grabbing her that way on the couch. After holding himself in check all these weeks, he’d seized his chance so abruptly he hadn’t shown much subtlety.

Maybe it was a good thing they’d been interrupted. Going to bed with Amy would be fabulous, but he wasn’t sure how they could strike the right balance. Relationships, in his experience, had a way of careening out of control.

Several years ago, Quent had nearly become engaged to a graduate student in business. The closer he and his girlfriend grew, however, the more they’d quarreled.

She’d resented his long hours at the hospital, while he’d experienced a spurt of jealousy when he saw her studying with a male friend. Their friendship had degenerated into mistrust and tension that all his efforts had failed to dispel. Soon they’d broken up and gone their own ways.

He didn’t want anything like that to happen with Amy. He didn’t want to lose her, and he knew their relationship would change irrevocably once they became intimate. Yet there’d been a fierceness to her response that stirred him profoundly. The things she could teach him…

He swallowed hard and tried to turn his thoughts to something unpleasant to cool his ardor. Foul-tasting medicine. Tetanus shots. Dr. Fingger, the interim head of the Well-Baby Clinic, wearing his customary prune-sucking expression of disapproval.

The tactic failed, to Quent’s dismay. He knew perfectly well that his cutoffs didn’t hide much of anything. He preferred not to think of Amy’s pals chuckling if she described his awkward groping on the couch, followed by his obvious physical arousal as he stood watching her in the rain like some lustful tomcat.

Oh, heck, Amy wasn’t the kind of woman to make fun of him to others. At least, Quent didn’t think so, but the image of her friends’ mirth succeeded where his discouraging thoughts had failed, and his body came under control.

Amy returned a moment later. “They believe the place is structurally safe but they have to err on the side of caution,” she said. “They’re going to allow me inside for ten minutes. Can you believe that? Ten minutes to collect my gear for who knows how long!”

“Let me help,” he said.

“Great! I’d appreciate it.” She led the way to the wide-open front door. “We’re ready,” she told the battalion chief.

He nodded. “Go on in.”

The two of them hurried into a living room that resembled a war zone. It was too bad one lousy tree could do so much damage.

The other rooms appeared undamaged. With her usual efficiency, Amy handed Quent a suitcase from the hall closet.

“I’m going to get the papers and laptop out of my office,” she said. “Grab my clothes out of the bedroom, will you? Business suits, jeans and blouses are in the closet. My underwear’s in the top drawer of the bureau and my nightgowns are in the middle.”

“You want me to handle your—?” He stopped, remembering that they had only ten minutes and he was wasting time. Her approach made sense, since he’d have no idea what papers to take or where to find them in her office. “Okay.”

She vanished through a doorway to the right. The other bedroom on that side was empty, so Quent turned left.

The first thing that struck him was Amy’s fresh floral scent. The second thing were the framed posters of ice skaters and gymnasts. He was surprised not to see one of the 49ers, and realized she must not be as big a fan as she claimed.

After plopping the suitcase on the bed, he retrieved some clothes from their hangers. There wasn’t time to fold them neatly. Suits, jeans and blouses all got rolled up and stuffed inside.

Although he knew they were pressed for time, Quent hesitated before opening the bureau drawers. He didn’t like invading Amy’s privacy. Even with his girlfriend, his only contact with her lingerie and lace nighties had been removing them in a hurry.

He yanked on the center drawer first and took out a folded nightgown. The silky fabric flowed across his hands like warm water. Draped on Amy’s body, it must reveal every curve and inlet, he thought, and hurriedly stuffed it into the suitcase.

Quent braved the top drawer. Panties and bras were stuffed together, entangled with pantyhose. The jumble reminded him of his own sock drawer.

Try as he might, he couldn’t suppress an image of Amy wearing this stuff and peeling it off in front of him. With her experience, she’d probably perfected the art of the striptease.

“Hey!” the subject of his yearnings called from the hallway. “They’re calling for us to come out. You ready?”

“I’ll be right there!” Quent grabbed a handful of underwear, shoved it into the suitcase and clicked it shut.

They scurried out together. Amy lugged a satchel full of papers plus her laptop and the umbrella. “I’m glad they let me in there. I kept thinking of other things I need. Did you get everything?”

“You bet,” Quent said. “If I ever need a job as a ladies’ maid, you can give me a reference.”

“You did take some shoes, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Shoes?”

“You know, the things to go on my feet?” Amy groaned as they emerged into the blustery day. “Oh, well, I suppose it’s my fault for forgetting to mention it.”

The firemen refused to let them back in. “The building inspector called and said to keep the premises vacated until he makes sure it’s safe,” the battalion chief told them. “He won’t be able to get here before Monday.”

“I’ll survive,” Amy said. “At least I’ve got my credit cards.”

“I’ll pay you back for the shoes,” Quent said.

“You will not. I can always use a new pair.”

She left the place open, after the chief promised to lock up personally when his crew was finished and give the key to her neighbor. Even under the eaves, the air hung heavy with moisture, and Quent knew they both needed to get dry.

In the parking lot, he got a bright idea. Well, maybe not totally bright, if he’d given himself time to think about it, but right now Quent’s brain couldn’t stretch beyond the need to get Amy alone and resume the activity that had been so rudely interrupted.

“You can stay with me,” he said.

She handed him the umbrella and, waving aside his attempt to help, began stowing things in the trunk of her sporty sedan, which she’d moved out of her carport because it, too, was damaged. “You’re inviting me to move in with you till my roof gets fixed?”

“Why not?” That was one of Quent’s mottos.

“Because…” Amy pushed back a strand of black hair that had draped itself across her cheek. Quent fought down the urge to reach out and stroke that tantalizing wisp. “We’re friends. If I move in with you, stuff will happen, and then we’ll both get self-conscious about it and we might not be friends anymore.”

“Sure we will.” He had a sneaking suspicion she was right, but it didn’t pay to think too far in advance, because you never knew what the future would bring. “Life’s too short to deny yourself.”

“You really believe that?”

Quent shifted the umbrella, trying to keep them both dry. Rain tickled the back of his neck. “Sure I do.”

“Don’t you ever worry about consequences?”

“Not if I can help it.” At least, that had been his attitude until last year, when his niece and nephew were orphaned. Even since then, however, he preferred not to dwell on things he couldn’t control.

Amy shook her head. “Whatever works for you. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but my aunt lives a couple of miles away. I’m hoping she’ll take me in.”