Donna Clayton - Rachel And The M.d.

He worked with her in the office every single weekday. However, it was office policy that the employees wore colorful smocks over their attire. The nurses and office staff had a different color smock for every day of the week. He’d never realized just how shapeless those uniforms were. Before this moment, he’d never even realized that Rachel had a body.

Well, of course he’d known she’d had a body. He was a doctor, for goodness sake. But he never realized what a body she had!

Oh, hell.

Get a grip, he silently commanded himself. What on earth was the matter with him?

He needed to put a bit of space between them, that was all. He’d anticipated opening the door to one of his daughters’ friends. He hadn’t expected to see Rachel standing there at all. Her appearance had startled him.

Startled him? She’d shocked clear thinking right out of his brain. Like a solid whack with a sledgehammer right between the eyeballs.

“I’m fine,” he told her, ducking to the left. “I’m okay.”

As soon as he spoke, she stopped, and he continued on several paces just to give himself a little distance. Once he reached the couch, he paused to catch his breath, gather his wits. Only then did he turn to face her.

“You sure you’re okay?”

The concern in her golden-bronze gaze affected him mightily. Usually, her interest was focused on his children. Rachel was their godmother. And she’d gone out of her way, especially since Olivia’s death, to see that his girls were well-cared for. But recently she seemed more attached to his family than ever.

No, he silently answered her question. I’m not at all sure that I’m okay.

However, what he said was, “Sure. I’m fine. Just got a little choked up is all. I’m okay now. Really.”

The entire time his mouth was uttering the words, he had to fight with his eyes to keep them focused on Rachel’s face. His gaze kept wanting to slide down the length of her body, to get one more glimpse of those sinfully long and shapely legs of hers. Sometime during the last few frantic seconds, his subconscious must have noticed that the hem of her sexy little cocktail dress ended at midthigh. The urge to gape, stare, ogle, was pretty darned near overwhelming. He couldn’t fathom what had gotten into him.

She sure did look like a million bucks. Certainly, to have realized that fact—obviously so, he was afraid—and not to comment on it would seem more than a little odd. So, tugging absently at the lapels of his jacket, he said, “Y-you, ah, you look great.”

“So do you.”

For the first time, he vaguely recognized that her gaze was clouded with what looked like confusion. A tiny crease marred the delicate skin between her eyes. However, he was still fighting off the strange effect her appearance had had on him, and that took so much effort that he didn’t really have it in him to wonder too awfully much about what she might find bewildering.

“You obviously have plans tonight.” As soon as he uttered the words, he was struck by the strangest feeling. An odd heaviness sat on his chest like a cement block.

“I was about to say the same thing to you.”

Was that accusation he heard in her tone? he wondered. This whole situation had him feeling odd. Just a little off-kilter.

When he didn’t answer, she said, “I’m going to the New Year’s Eve party with the girls. They asked if I would help Debbie’s mother by acting as a chaperone. And I agreed. I’m here to pick up the girls. Are they ready?” Then her head tilted and she asked, “They didn’t tell you?”

Immediately upon hearing that Rachel would be attending the same party as he, the bizarre heaviness seemed to evaporate. What took its place was a curious lightness that wafted around him like sweet, candy-scented air. But he no more understood this sugary feeling than he did the other emotions that had reached up out of nowhere to grab at him.

What was wrong with his central nervous system? Was he coming down with a cold?

“No,” he told her, feeling preoccupied with the emotions churning inside him. “The girls never said a word.” He felt his brow furrow with uncertainty. Why hadn’t the girls let him know they had asked Rachel to go to the party?

Kids. Would they ever become responsible for their actions?

Now, Rachel looked as if she felt awkward.

“Y-you,” she stammered hesitantly, “look as if you have plans for the evening. Are you going out?”

Then he chuckled, nodding ironically. “I’m going to the party, too.”

The glow he had noticed seemed to fade and Rachel’s face suddenly took on an ashen shade.

“You are?”

“Uh-huh,” he told her softly. “I am. They asked me today. I guess the three of them somehow got their signals crossed.”

“But they were all together when…” Rachel’s thought seemed to peter out, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

A sudden thought struck him. “Look, since I’m going…there’s really no need for you to be troubled—”

“But, Dad!”

“We want Rachel to go—”

“She’s gotta go, Dad. Debbie’s mom is expecting her help.”

Sloan turned to see his daughters standing at the foot of the stairs.

The first things he noticed were their expressions. Surreptitious. Sly. Even sneaky wouldn’t have been too harsh a word to describe the looks in their eyes. What were they up to?

Before he could give the question the attention it deserved, he noticed their attire. His little girls were beautiful in their party dresses and fancy shoes. Looking all grown-up. Their long, dark hair glistening. His mouth opened, his breath leaving him in a rush.

His daughters were lovely. Lovely enough to make everything else slide into the background of his brain as his heart contracted with love.

Music blared at an earsplitting level. Sloan positioned himself at the very back of the large banquet room in order to save his hearing. He couldn’t believe how elaborate the party decorations were. Mrs. Fox, Debbie’s mother, had gone to great lengths to make her daughter’s New Year’s Eve bash a success.

Colorful helium balloons bobbed from ribbons anchored to every conceivable surface. Streamers were draped from the corners of the room, some of them dangling straight down from the ceiling, making a sort of obstacle course that the kids seemed to love. The tables were covered with cloths that had been sprinkled with shimmering confetti. One long table was weighed down with food and beverages. The dance floor was lit from above with rainbow lighting, and the tunes were being played by a professional disc jockey. A professional DJ for twelve-year-olds?

Yes, quite a bit of money had been paid out for this affair.

Sloan was surprised by the number of children milling around. One group of kids ambled by him, and not one of them even acknowledged him with a look, let alone a verbal greeting. Ah, well, he thought, they were off in their own world. A world that didn’t include chaperones. He chuckled to himself.

He was feeling so…odd. And he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Lighthearted. Gleeful, even. The music was deafening, yes, and the pop tunes were definitely not his favorite style. But he’d found himself tapping his toes to the beat a time or two.

However, along with this peculiar breeziness, he also felt a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t help thinking that something was about to happen. Often he was struck by a feeling of premonition. And when he got that feeling, it usually wasn’t long before he received a call from his answering service with a message from a patient who needed him. He hated the idea of being called away from the triplets’ big night out. But if that were to happen, Rachel was here to save the day—or rather, the evening—for the girls.