a self-deprecating grin.
“Two points,” he murmured.
The action reminded him of his old buddy and one-on-one opponent, Justin Thompson. They must have shot a million paper wads during medical school, and they’d bet on every single one. Right now, he’d give a year of his life to see his former friend. Even though Justin would be green with jealousy over the journal acceptances, he would also be happy for Cooper’s success. That was the fuel that drove their friendship—fierce competition coupled with a deep respect and affection. If he couldn’t win, he wanted Justin to take first place. He knew Justin had felt the same.
His foot dropped to the floor with a thud. He stared at the wall. Justin was dead. Unbelievable.
The shock still stung like an injection of xylocaine. One of the brightest guys he’d ever encountered, gone. A good man, a great competitor, a true friend.
A motorcycle wreck. He shuddered at the thought. But that was Justin. A man who pushed the envelope, ready to take chances, to try new and exciting things. It was what had made their friendship so exhilarating at times. He’d never known what Justin would do next.
Regret pulled at him. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. His fault, he was sure. But he should have kept in touch, should have called, should at least have known a friend had died before his time. A physician of all people knew how frail life could be.
Two young doctors entered the lounge, both yawning with the exhaustion common to overworked residents but bantering with the black humor that kept them awake and alert for thirty-plus hours.
He and Justin had done that, although their jokes had always been competitive, each trying to outdo the other.
Funny how he hadn’t thought about that in a long time, but now the camaraderie came back with the clarity of HDTV.
An ache pulled at his gut. He missed that kind of friendship.
As he skimmed into his street clothes, his mind strayed to the sprite of a woman Justin had left behind. Encountering Natalie at Dr. Craggin’s wedding had been a surprise. A pleasant one. When he’d seen her across the room, he’d done a double take. Ten years ago, she’d been a cute girl, but now she was a woman, all grown-up and looking good. Real good. He felt a little guilty about thinking of her in those terms, but there it was.
When they’d danced and her taut little body had brushed against his, he’d suffered a flash of desire so hot, he’d thought the building was on fire. After finding out about Justin’s death, he’d also had an overwhelming need to take care of her, as if by doing so he could make up for the loss he hadn’t known about.
The knowledge made him itchy, uncomfortable. He didn’t know what was wrong with him to have such crazy thoughts.
Even after he’d finished the emergency surgery that night, she’d been on his mind. Her soft mouth around his fingers as he’d fed her fruit had just about done him in. Later, when his mind had kept replaying the scene without his permission, the moment had taken flight into erotic fantasy. Honey dew. Even the melon was sexy. He should be ashamed of himself.
Wasn’t it wrong to think of his friends’ wife this way, even when that friend was dead? Especially when that friend was dead? Justin wasn’t here to protect what was his.
There was that word again—protect.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Justin would expect him to look after his woman. Like a friend or a brother, not as a lusting fool who only had one thing in mind.
Ten years ago Natalie’s big blue eyes had been guileless and even a little gullible. Now they were wary and wise. Though common sense said the death of a spouse would change anyone, the difference bothered him. Just as he’d been bothered when Justin had won her affections. His hands stilled on his silk tie as the notion caught him up short. That was years ago. A college crush. Both men vying for the blond pom-pom girl with the flashing dimples and sexy legs. Justin had won. Subject closed.
To him she’d been a passing fancy, but Justin had been the family type. He had wanted it all—career, family, adventure, success—and that had been enough reason for Cooper to back off. Justin had thought he could juggle everything. Cooper knew better. Single-minded focus was the only way to reach a lofty goal. Justin’s death only proved how right he’d been. A man couldn’t have it all, at least not for long.
He slipped into a pair of Italian loafers.
Natalie still had those flashing dimples.
She had two little girls, too. Justin’s girls. Far better to focus on them. Were they doing all right? Did they need anything? It wouldn’t hurt to make certain Justin had left them well provided for.
He’d asked Natalie to call. Wonder why she hadn’t?
Once again he pulled his cell phone from his jacket, but then sat down, staring at it. He didn’t know her number.
Then he smiled. He wasn’t Congressman Randall Sullivan’s son for nothing.
* * *
“Lily, get down from there. You’re going to fall.”
At least Natalie thought it was Lily walking tight rope on the back of the couch. With identical twins, even she couldn’t always tell them apart from a distance.
Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she blended confectioner’s sugar and real butter with almond extract using a mixer that had seen better days. “Listen, Regina, I’ve got to go. The timer is going off and Lily has suddenly decided to become a high rope circus act.”
“Call me later. I’m dying to hear more about that dreamy doctor.”
“Regina,” Natalie warned, but a little thrill jitter-bugged up and down her nerve endings. “Cooper is just a former friend who recognized the insulin reaction. End of story. I don’t know why I told you in the first place.”
Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned the crazy dreams she’d had since then, confusing dreams of being held and loved and cherished by a man with very dark eyes and long, slender hands.
Regina’s warm chuckle was knowing. “Just promise to tell me more later. You tell me something, and I’ll tell you something. A tit for tat, as it were.”
“Okay, whatever.” Natalie laughed and rang off, clapped the phone onto the counter and whirled toward the beeping oven, grabbing a potholder as she moved. The duplex was so small the kitchen, living and dining room were blended together in one big area. Most of the space was taken up with her tables and equipment. Fortunately, she could work and still keep a close eye on her active girls.
As she slid the sheet cake from the oven, she heard her daughter give a tiny sigh of exasperation and then heard the thud of feet as the child hopped onto the wood floor. It was Lily, all right. Rose wouldn’t have given in so easily.
Natalie slid the cake onto a table and turned to look at the bouncy eight-year-old. Love as big and warm as a hot air balloon filled her chest.
“Rose won’t play with me,” Lily said, bottom lip extended, elfin face droopy.
“Yes, she will, punkie. Go ask her.”
Big gray eyes, reminiscent of Justin’s, gazed sadly at Natalie. “She won’t. She says Puppy doesn’t like me today so I can’t come in the room.”
“Rose!” Natalie yelled, trying to be louder than the television cartoons. Rose had an imaginary dog that didn’t like much of anyone except Rose. Whenever she was in a mood, she claimed Puppy would bite anyone who came into her bedroom—a room that also belonged to her sister.
Of her twins, Lily was the quieter, the more docile child, though sometimes when the two girls were together they could both be a handful.
The other twin, wearing a backward baseball cap and lime-green frog slippers appeared in the hallway. “Are we going to get a Christmas tree? Ashley already has one with ten presents under it.”