Hero For the Asking (Reed Sisters: Holding out for a Hero 2)

Realizing the direction her thoughts were taking, she snatched up the towel and applied it furiously. Deep within herself she was aware of a faint sense of regret that she wasn't the type who could cheerfully indulge in a teeth-rattling vacation affair and then just walk away. If she were, Clay would definitely be the man she'd choose for her fling. As it was, he was the man she most needed to resist.

Lunch was a scrumptious seafood salad prepared by Spring. She had the food ready by the time Derek and Summer arrived, and they took their time over the meal, chatting contentedly. They'd just finished eating when the telephone rang. Derek answered, listened for a moment, laughed, then extended the receiver in Spring's direction. "For you," he told her.

She knew who it was by the glint in her brother-in-law's eyes. Taking a deep breath, she accepted the phone and pressed it to her ear. "Hello, Clay."

"Hi, sweet Spring. Oh, sorry. I'm not supposed to call you that, am I?"

"No," she answered sternly. "You're not. Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Taking a break. I'm calling from my office."

"Oh. Have you heard anything about Thelma?"

"No change," he replied, immediately serious. "She should have been hospitalized days ago. She had to have surgery this morning to remove the fluid that has built up in her lungs. The membranes had become infected. They have her in intensive care now."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah." He paused for a moment, then deliberately lightened his tone. "Actually, I was calling to remind you about our date tonight. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"No, Clay, I haven't forgotten."

"Great. I'm really looking forward to it. How about you?"

She pressed her tongue firmly against her cheek, then replied with mock gravity, "I'm sure it will be quite pleasant. There's nothing interesting on television tonight, anyway."

Clay seemed to choke on the other end of the line, then growled, "Talk about damning with faint praise. I owe you for that one, sweet Spring." He tacked on the nickname with deliberate challenge.

She refused to take him up on it. "Ill see you tonight, Clay."

"Okay. Oh, and, Spring."

"Yes?"

"Dress funky."

She frowned. "Funky?"

"Yeah, funky. For you I guess that means leaving the top button of your silk blouse undone. See you tonight."

Spring stared for a moment at the buzzing receiver in her hand, then slowly replaced it on its cradle. "Your friend," she told her avidly interested sister, "is a lunatic."

Summer laughed. "Yes, I know."

"He wants me to dress funky tonight."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Summer asked, the words a dare.

Spring grinned and turned her gaze to her bemused brother-in-law. "Derek, dear, how do you feel about loaning out your clo

thes?" she asked blandly.

Her family would have immediately recognized the look on Spring's pretty face. She didn't often indulge her sly, subtle sense of humor, but when she did, the results were never predictable. Being a new member of the family, Derek wasn't quite sure how to interpret the gleam in Spring's violet eyes. Having twenty-five years of experience behind her, Summer identified it immediately. She suspected that her own wardrobe was about to be raided and that a quick shopping excursion might even be in order. She laughed again and looked forward to the evening, immensely pleased with the unexpected developments taking place during her sister's visit.

* * *

Clay stood on the doorstep of the Anderson home and checked his appearance, as anxious as a schoolboy on his first date, he mused ruefully. He thoughtfully twisted one foot in front of him, wondering if the orange high-tops clashed too badly with his tan three-piece suit and brown-on-beige striped dress shirt. He checked the knot in the mottled brown-and-green tie that he'd tucked discreetly into his buttoned vest. He'd worn his favorite tie in Spring's honor.

He chuckled as he punched the doorbell, wondering if Spring had taken his advice about how to dress. He could almost picture her now in the neat little suit she'd probably chosen to wear like a coat of mail while with him.