“Okay, I’m going to give you a shot.” She pointed a finger at him, “But you remember who gives the orders here, Doctor.”
He went into the snappy salute again. “Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed. He made her do that often, among other things. “All right, your first job is to cut up these vegetables. Knife and cutting board are in the right-hand drawer on the end.” She pointed down the stainless-steel counter.
They worked without speaking. Maggie was aware with every fiber in her that Court stood nearby, conscious of his slightest movement. Only through great willpower did she manage not to glance at him every thirty seconds. She didn’t have the solitude she generally craved but still she found she liked have him close.
What she should be doing instead of mooning over Court was taking the opportunity to get his impressions of the hospital. He wasn’t going to be here much longer and she needed to convince him the hospital deserved the funding of the Armstrong Foundation.
The chopping suddenly stopped. He glanced at her. She’d been caught staring. She hoped that the heat of the kitchen covered the heat that touched her cheeks.
“Court, I was wondering what you thought about the work we do at the hospital.” She tried to make the question sound casual.
He put down the knife he’d been using to cut the vegetables and leaned his hip against the counter. “There’s good work being done here, and I see the need in a number of areas. I wish there could be more prevention education being done. The hospital sees too many cases where earlier intervention would help greatly. Keep infections from getting out of hand. Like your friend’s leg.”
“I tried—”
Court reached out, his touch to her arm reassuring. Maggie turned back to the pot on the range. She could still feel his fingers on her skin even though he’d removed his hand.
“Maggie, you shouldn’t feel guilty. You did everything you could to get her to come to the hospital. You can’t force people to be who they’re not.”
She concentrated on stirring while she adjusted to the prick of old pain that caught her unawares. It sounded like Court knew that firsthand. Her ex-fiancé had more than proven that statement true when he’d broken off their engagement. He’d been brought up to believe his virility meant that he would produce a male child. When she’d lost the ability to conceive, he’d waited until she’d gotten out of the hospital before he called the wedding off. She was no longer perfect.
“Also, I see the need to set up some kind of relationship between a secondary hospital and this one,” Court said, standing too close for her comfort. “Where patients can receive more advanced help in a shorter amount of time. A new pediatric ward needs to be built, or at least added on to the established one.”
Unsure if it was the right thing to ask, she couldn’t stop herself. She had to know. “Are you reconsidering the grant application?” She turned around and found herself toe to toe to him.
Court’s eyes bored into hers. “I’m still unsure.”
She had the funny thought that they were no longer talking about the same thing. He wants to kiss me. “Why not?” she said breathlessly, then shook her head, trying to remember what they were really talking about. “You’ve seen the needs here. You even recognize them. What else do you have to know?”
She watched indecision fill his amazing eyes, then the shutters closing before he backed away. “Maggie,” he said with a roughness to his voice, “I’m the CEO. I can offer an opinion, if I wish to, but a committee makes the final decision on where the funds are allocated.”
“Why?” Maggie couldn’t keep her disappointment out of her voice. Was it because he didn’t kiss her or from his answer? The heat she felt from his look still warmed her.
He went back to chopping the vegetables with more force than necessary. “Because I still need more time to make an adequate evaluation.”
Again, were they talking about the same thing? “For crying out loud, what more could we do to prove the need? Have an epidemic?”
“I won’t be bullied on this, Maggie. I haven’t said no, I’ve just said wait.” His tone implied that would be the end of the discussion.
She didn’t understand his attitude about the grant and she missed their earlier camaraderie that had been there between them for those precious moments. She wanted it back. Returning to preparing a pan for the meat with shaking hands, she listened to the rhythm of his chopping.
“Okay, is this it? Sure seems like plenty to me.” By the sound of his voice the old Court had returned. He moved so she could see the chopping board.
She wished she could say yes but old habits died hard. “Could you make them a little more uniform in size?”
He looked at her in disbelief but nodded anyway. “Yes, chief.”
“Then you could peel potatoes.”
“What? Am I in the army now?”
She leaned a hip against the counter and crossed a foot over the other, her toe pointed on the floor. “You don’t plan to remain my sous chef for long, do you?”
“I didn’t know you were going to be such a particular taskmaster. Is there any place you don’t like being the boss? Where are the potatoes?”
Maggie pointed to the basket under the counter.
“All of them?”
Maggie nodded. “There’ll be eight of us eating.” She returned to the fruit glaze she’d been preparing to top the dessert. She tied on an apron after some of the sticky syrup splashed on her.
The CD started to play again after finishing a set. She and Court softly sang along while they worked. Despite their previous tension, Maggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed preparing a meal so much. Court carried a bowl of potatoes over to her.
“Are these the right size?” he teased.
She resisted the strong urge to ask him to make them smaller but instead she said, “They’re fine.” She moved but not quickly enough and Court brushed up against her as he dumped the potatoes into the roasting pan she’d oiled. Once again the tension sparked and flashed in the air between them.
Court set the bowl on the counter, then slid a hand around her waist, pulling her against his solid body. Cupping her face, he gently brushed the pad of his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “I believe I will,” he said in a deep, sandpapery voice.
“Wha—?”
“Kiss the cook,” he whispered, before his lips touched hers briefly, retreated and returned to rest firmly against hers. His mouth felt cool, confident and completely in control. He tasted divine.
He didn’t demand a response but she couldn’t resist the desire to lean into him. Fireworks went off inside her. Mercy, the man could kiss.
He murmured, “You taste good.”
She shivered. Did an astronaut feel the same when he broke out of the earth’s gravity? Weightless, suspended, out of control?
The slap of the outside door broke their self-absorbed cocoon. Court had stepped away by the time one of the nurses entered the kitchen.
With her blood humming like an express train and her body warm as if she’d stepped out of a sauna, Maggie looked down at the front of the apron to find the faint words Kiss the Cook printed on it. With a quick movement, she turned back to the stove and spoke over her shoulder. “Hey, dinner should be ready in a few minutes. Would you mind setting the table? There’ll be eight of us.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to.” Lisa turned and headed back into the dining area. Another slap of the double screen door brought a call of, “Missy Maggie.”
“In here, Neetie.” She smiled as the boy bounced into the kitchen area. “Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“Court, would you dish up Neetie a plate of food?” She might have missed Court’s stricken look if she hadn’t glanced at him.
“Why don’t you let me see about that?” He came over and took the spoon from her hand. “While you get Neetie his dinner.”
Left no choice, Maggie moved out of the way. What was wrong with him? Did he not li
ke children or Neetie in particular? She couldn’t understand how he’d managed to be a children’s doctor and not like children. During clinic she’d noticed he’d shied away from the children and offered to take the older patients, directing the mothers with youngsters to one of the other doctors.
After she’d hurt her foot Court and Neetie had seemed to be a little more at ease with each other. She loved children and couldn’t imagine anyone else not liking them too. Especially if you were a children’s doctor.
She said, “Sure, I’ll take care of him,” even as she wondered at the shadowed look filling Court’s eyes.
* * *
There had been those few tense moments like the one when he’d refused to see about Neetie, but despite those the evening had been exceptional, Court thought. One of the nicest he’d had in a long time. He’d not eaten a more delicious meal or enjoyed a more lively discussion in any fine home or restaurant than he’d experienced with this group of hard-working, dedicated people.