you're going, lady!"
She hadn't realized that she'd stepped off the curb into the oncoming traffic. She shouted out a "Sorry!" and scurried across the street. I know. She'll want her husband to love her, but doesn't know how to go about it. Then Byrony and Brent will get into the act, along with Chauncey and Delaney. Then there's the obsession Wilkes has with her. Ah, endless opportunities—
She stretched out on a blanket in her front yard and plotted away the afternoon.
"You look gorgeous," David said smiling down at Chelsea the following evening precisely at seven o'clock. "You haven't lost any weight, have you?"
She cocked her head. "That's always the least of my problems," she said. "How are you, David? Are you dreadfully tired?"
"No, not really. Today wasn't particularly slow, but it wasn't a madhouse, either."
She patted his arm. "I'm glad. You don't want to wear yourself out. You look very fine. I don't think we should waste your finery on the place I was thinking of. Have you ever been to the Alta Mira?"
He hadn't, and was duly impressed by the panoramic view from the hotel dining room windows.
David ordered a very expensive Chablis, looking briefly toward Chelsea to see if she approved. She did, and beamed at him.
Lord, he thought, forcing his eyes down to the ornate menu, she looked lovely tonight. He liked the clingy dress, but wondered how she managed to get around without stumbling and killing herself on the three-inch high heels she was wearing. Maybe, he thought, she wanted to come up to his chin. Her black hair was fluffy and soft-looking and framed her pixie face adorably.
"And the seafood salads are delicious," Chelsea said after a while. He'd had enough time to study the menu through three times!
David set down the menu and smiled at her. "Why don't you order for me? I'm a sucker for seafood, particularly shrimp or crab. Ah, and here's the wine. Why don't you taste it? You're the one with the expert taste buds."
Chelsea tasted, approved and ordered for both of them. She sat back in her chair, feeling suddenly shy. She swallowed, then began her tour guide rundown on the sights they could see from their table.
"You keep your fingernails short. I like that," he said when she'd finally ground to a halt with Strawberry Point, just across Richardson Bay from them.
"Oh," Chelsea said, curling her fingers under. She hadn't filed her nails in an age. "Well, it's hard to type with long nails."
"It would be pretty hard on my patients if I didn't keep mine short, too," he said.
"I don't know," she said thoughtfully, a dimple appearing on her left cheek. "If the patient were particularly obnoxious, you could slip just a bit."
He thought of just such a particularly obnoxious man who'd come into the emergency room yesterday with bruised knuckles from a fight and complained because he'd had to wait for thirty minutes. He took another sip of wine, then said cautiously, "I understand that in your profession, your money doesn't come to you regularly."
"That's right," Chelsea agreed. "I call it a bolus of bucks when it does arrive."
"Bolus? Do you know what a bolus is?"
"Sure, it's a big shot of something you give to a patient who needs the something very quickly."
"You got that from Elliot, right?"
"Yep. I'll have to tell George that Elliot has indeed been good for something."
He didn't know what to make of that, but he was tenacious and wasn't to be sidetracked. "Are you expecting a bolus of bucks soon?"
"Why?" She cocked her head questioningly. "Do you need a loan?"
Her voice was teasing, but David, so concerned that she was only eating a salad for dinner, didn't catch it. "No. Wouldn't you like a steak or something more substantial to go with the salad?"
"You, David, haven't yet seen the Alta Mira salads! It's the kind of serving you have to take home and eat for three days."
Oh, God, that was why she'd ordered the salad. He closed his eyes for a moment, aware that he had to tread very
She hadn't realized that she'd stepped off the curb into the oncoming traffic. She shouted out a "Sorry!" and scurried across the street. I know. She'll want her husband to love her, but doesn't know how to go about it. Then Byrony and Brent will get into the act, along with Chauncey and Delaney. Then there's the obsession Wilkes has with her. Ah, endless opportunities—
She stretched out on a blanket in her front yard and plotted away the afternoon.
"You look gorgeous," David said smiling down at Chelsea the following evening precisely at seven o'clock. "You haven't lost any weight, have you?"
She cocked her head. "That's always the least of my problems," she said. "How are you, David? Are you dreadfully tired?"
"No, not really. Today wasn't particularly slow, but it wasn't a madhouse, either."
She patted his arm. "I'm glad. You don't want to wear yourself out. You look very fine. I don't think we should waste your finery on the place I was thinking of. Have you ever been to the Alta Mira?"
He hadn't, and was duly impressed by the panoramic view from the hotel dining room windows.
David ordered a very expensive Chablis, looking briefly toward Chelsea to see if she approved. She did, and beamed at him.
Lord, he thought, forcing his eyes down to the ornate menu, she looked lovely tonight. He liked the clingy dress, but wondered how she managed to get around without stumbling and killing herself on the three-inch high heels she was wearing. Maybe, he thought, she wanted to come up to his chin. Her black hair was fluffy and soft-looking and framed her pixie face adorably.
"And the seafood salads are delicious," Chelsea said after a while. He'd had enough time to study the menu through three times!
David set down the menu and smiled at her. "Why don't you order for me? I'm a sucker for seafood, particularly shrimp or crab. Ah, and here's the wine. Why don't you taste it? You're the one with the expert taste buds."
Chelsea tasted, approved and ordered for both of them. She sat back in her chair, feeling suddenly shy. She swallowed, then began her tour guide rundown on the sights they could see from their table.
"You keep your fingernails short. I like that," he said when she'd finally ground to a halt with Strawberry Point, just across Richardson Bay from them.
"Oh," Chelsea said, curling her fingers under. She hadn't filed her nails in an age. "Well, it's hard to type with long nails."
"It would be pretty hard on my patients if I didn't keep mine short, too," he said.
"I don't know," she said thoughtfully, a dimple appearing on her left cheek. "If the patient were particularly obnoxious, you could slip just a bit."
He thought of just such a particularly obnoxious man who'd come into the emergency room yesterday with bruised knuckles from a fight and complained because he'd had to wait for thirty minutes. He took another sip of wine, then said cautiously, "I understand that in your profession, your money doesn't come to you regularly."
"That's right," Chelsea agreed. "I call it a bolus of bucks when it does arrive."
"Bolus? Do you know what a bolus is?"
"Sure, it's a big shot of something you give to a patient who needs the something very quickly."
"You got that from Elliot, right?"
"Yep. I'll have to tell George that Elliot has indeed been good for something."
He didn't know what to make of that, but he was tenacious and wasn't to be sidetracked. "Are you expecting a bolus of bucks soon?"
"Why?" She cocked her head questioningly. "Do you need a loan?"
Her voice was teasing, but David, so concerned that she was only eating a salad for dinner, didn't catch it. "No. Wouldn't you like a steak or something more substantial to go with the salad?"
"You, David, haven't yet seen the Alta Mira salads! It's the kind of serving you have to take home and eat for three days."
Oh, God, that was why she'd ordered the salad. He closed his eyes for a moment, aware that he had to tread very
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