The Thunderbolt Page 3

  “Honey,” CeeCee said in her quaint southern drawl, “why do you suppose flowers are so colorful?”

  Lacy shrugged.

  “To attract bees and butterflies.”

  “But,” Lacy said, “I won’t know what to say to a bee when he flits around my flower.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Janet told her. “You act cool, aloof, distant. Make them work for it.”

  “Nope,” CeeCee argued, demonstrating the difference in their personal styles. “You smile and make eye contact.”

  “All right,” Janet conceded, “but follow her advice only if you’re interested. Give the rest of them the cold shoulder.”

  “I don’t want to impress anyone except Bennett.”

  CeeCee sent Janet a do-you-want-to-give-her-the-birds-and-bees-lecture-or-should-I look and shook her head. “The girl’s got a lot to learn.”

  “What is it?” Lacy glanced at her friends. “Tell me.”

  “How did you get to be twenty-seven years old without picking up on some of this?” Janet asked.

  “You guys know how old-fashioned my parents are. They didn’t exactly tutor me on becoming a blond bombshell. Both my sisters are younger. On the rare occasions I had a date, my folks insisted one of my brothers go along as chaperone.”

  “And after high school?”

  “It’s always been hard for me to meet men,” Lacy confessed.

  “Things have got to change. If you want Dr. Sheridan to notice you, then you’ve got to get other men interested in you first. Guys are, by nature, commitment shy. You have to set the hook before you reel them in.” CeeCee pantomimed casting with a fishing pole.

  “I don’t understand.” Lacy moaned and covered her face with her hands. “This is too complicated.”

  “Come on, you can’t hide out forever. Not if you want to win Dr. Sheridan’s heart,” Janet said gently.

  “Yeah, get out there and have a blast.” CeeCee nodded.

  “Let me see if I understand you. In order to catch my dream man, I have to pretend to be a carefree party girl who flits from man to man without a concern in the world?”

  “You’ve got it,” CeeCee exclaimed. “That’s the male psyche in a nutshell.”

  “But won’t guys think I’m easy?”

  “Yes, that’s the whole point.”

  CeeCee’s reasoning distressed Lacy. Couldn’t Bennett just fall in love with her for herself? Why did she have to fake being a gregarious party-girl?

  If he was only attracted to that facade, what would happen when Bennett discovered that she wasn’t like that at all?

  “What if I attract him and we start going out? What happens when he expects things to, er, progress further than a good-night kiss?”

  CeeCee blinked in disbelief. “You mean you’ve never...”

  Lacy shook her head. “Never and even if I wanted to go to bed with a man, I’ve got to be in love with him, and I want him to be in love with me, too.”

  “Hang on.” CeeCee zipped from the room and returned a moment later with a roll of condoms. She tossed it in Lacy’s lap. “A girl’s got to protect herself.”

  Lacy thrust the condoms at CeeCee. “I’m not ready for this.”

  “Keep it. You never know when it might come in handy.”

  Nervously, Lacy palmed the condom and dropped it into the pocket of her jumper. “I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about a condom right this moment. I’m so shy. Let’s start with that. How do I begin to overcome my bashfulness?”

  CeeCee wrinkled her brow. “Can you think of a time you weren’t shy?”

  Lacy shook her head. “No.”

  “Wait a minute.” Janet snapped her fingers. “Didn’t you tell me you used to act in plays back in high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “That takes guts. How were you able to overcome your shyness in order to get up on a stage in front of people?”

  “Easy,” Lacy said. “I was so busy playing a part I didn’t have time to feel self-conscious.”

  It made sense. Acting had been her main social outlet in high school. She had enjoyed becoming someone else, forgetting herself, shedding her shell and emerging as the star. Could she actually do it in real life?

  “How do we begin?” Lacy asked, excited yet hesitant. What was she letting herself in for?

  “First, we give you a makeover.”

  “Then,” Janet said, “we put you to the test.”

  “A nightclub.” CeeCee snapped her fingers. “Where you can practice talking to men you don’t care about before you move on to the good doctor”

  “You two will come with me, won’t you? I mean I don’t think I can traipse into a bar on my own.”

  “Sure, we’ll be there,” Janet assured her.

  “Thanks,” Lacy said gratefully. “You guys are wonderful.”

  “What are we waiting for?” CeeCee asked. “Let’s get going. The night is young, and the men are hot.”

  “You’ll love this place,” Dr. Grant Tennison assured Bennett. They pulled into the parking lot of a noisy nightclub in the hospital district, aptly named the Recovery Room.

  It was only seven thirty, but already the joint was packed. The thumping strains of heavy rock music jarred the walls of the large squat building decorated with flashing red-and-blue neon signs that simulated whirling ambulance lights.

  Grant had offered to drive since Bennett was staying at the visiting physician’s quarters at Saint Madeleine’s and hadn’t bothered to rent a car.

  “Some of the best-looking women in Houston come here.” Grant flung open the door of his late model Porsche and stepped into the muggy night air.

  “Sounds great.” Bennett was glad to be out of the high-stress hospital environment. He was going to have a couple of beers, relax, and enjoy the company. “It’s been a busy five weeks. Laramie’s a brilliant surgeon, but he’s also a slave driver. I’m ready for a little R and R.”

  “I thought you had the air of a resident who’d spent too many long nights alone.” Grant winked and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “Don’t worry, you’ll find what you’re searching for in here.”

  Bennett certainly hoped Grant was right. He was looking for something to take his mind off Lacy Calder.

  For some reason, Lacy absolutely fascinated him. Bennett had assisted Dr. Laramie with thirty-four cases, and Lacy had scrubbed in on twenty-eight of them.

  Twenty-eight times in the past five weeks he had looked up to see those enticing astral-blue eyes across the table from him. And twenty-eight times he’d found himself aching to peel back that mask. Only once had he seen her without the paper covering over her face, and that was on his first day when she’d locked herself in her locker.

  And each time he’d caught her eye, she quickly glanced away, but not quickly enough to hide the deep scarlet flush that rose to color the tops of her cheeks. Her shyness whetted his interest. If mere eye contact made her so flustered, what would a kiss do to her?

  The idea excited him to the point where Bennett had to chide himself for the direction of his inappropriate thoughts. He had no business pursuing his co-worker, none whatsoever.

  First of all, they worked together, and it would be stupid to allow anything to interfere with their professional relationship. Second, he was only going to be in Houston for another week. Not nearly enough time to get to know her. Third, even if they did click, he had another year left in his residency at Boston General.

  Then he would be occupied setting up his private practice. But most important of all, he couldn’t afford to be distracted during life-saving operations.

  And then there was his personal credo—never, ever get sucked in by physical attraction. He was a man of science. He knew all about hormonal responses.

  They had their place in the scheme of human reproduction, but rational-minded human beings didn’t choose lifelong mates based on sexual attraction. He knew firsthand the chaos unrestrained chemistry could cause.


  His parents had met, been wildly sexually attracted to each other, married a few weeks later, created a baby, and lived unhappily for two miserable years before calling it quits. Over the course of time, both his father and mother had reiterated their lesson, and Bennett, seeing their distress, had heeded their words.

  Love at first sight was a myth. Lust, yes. Love, no. Never let your hormones rule your head. Make love to a woman if you will, but don’t base a marriage on sex.

  That was why he had dodged Lacy outside the surgical suite. He was afraid of the way she stirred his body. If he saw her go into the locker room, he avoided it for a while. If they passed in the corridor, he pretended he had something so important on his mind that he didn’t notice her. If they ended up standing side by side at the scrub sinks, he always started a conversation with anyone else in the vicinity.

  Although he felt like a heel giving her the cold shoulder, it was for their own good. He could not afford to fall in love, get married, and start a family for at least three more years.

  He refused to go through what his parents had gone through. He wasn’t doing that to his kids, nor to himself.

  He had no time for a serious relationship, particularly a long-distance one. No, much better to enjoy the simple pleasure of working with Lacy and let it go at that.

  Determinedly pushing aside all thoughts of the shy scrub nurse who’d so unexpectedly piqued his curiosity, Bennett followed Grant Tennison into the crowded, noisy nightclub.

  Grant waded past a dozen closely packed tables near the door, making a beeline for the bar, calling out greetings to several people as he pushed past.

  Glancing around the room, Bennett realized Grant had spoken the truth. The place was crawling with beautiful women. To the right of the bar was an archway leading to the dance floor where a disc jockey played a lively tune. Numerous dancers bumped and gyrated in time to the music. To the left lay a room that housed pool tables, pinball machines, and video games.

  Leaning back, elbows against the counter, he ordered a beer and studied the crowd. Bennett found people-watching fascinating.

  When he was a boy, his paternal grandmother had loved to take him around with her because he could sit for hours in a shopping mall or an airport or a doctor’s waiting room watching the crowds go by, wondering who they were, what their lives were like, where they were going.

  Fond memories of time spent with Nanna were his most prized memories. It had devastated him when she’d died of a heart attack five years ago.

  His interest in people, their motives and problems, was what had led him to become a physician, that and Nanna’s absolute belief in him. He ached to be useful to mankind, to do something important and make his grandmother proud.

  It was only later, while he was in med school, that he realized he loved surgery best and cardiac surgery most of all. What could be more fulfilling than learning the secrets of the human heart? By helping to correct heart disease, he was giving people a second chance at life, another opportunity to love. In Bennett’s estimation, nothing was more rewarding.

  He eyed the front door. Customers came and went. He recognized several people from the hospital.

  Bennett was about to spin around on the stool and ask the bartender for another beer when the door swung open and in marched three attractive women. Every head in the place turned to stare at them.

  The redhead led the way. She bounced rather than walked. Her hair was shoulder length and curly. She was medium height with a body that wouldn’t quit. A bubbly smile graced her lips, and she swung her head from side to side, greeting everyone in her wake.

  Behind her came the brunette. Tall, slender, cucumber cool. She looked neither to the left nor the right but kept her head high and her gaze to the front. She had piercing ebony eyes and a no-nonsense countenance, and she wore an elegant black pantsuit, low-heeled black boots, and pearl jewelry.

  But it was the petite blonde bringing up the rear that stole his breath.

  “Will you look at her,” Bennett whispered under his breath, his palm damp against the sweating long-necked beer bottle.

  She moved with light, delicate steps, parting the air like water. Her hair, the color of moon drops threaded with gold, hung straight as a curtain down the middle of her back, and it was swept back off her forehead with a vibrant green bow. She was about five one, certainly no more than five two, and couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  Her daintiness stirred his protective instincts. He had the sudden urge to scoop her into his arms and hold her safe from the rowdy crowd.

  Her shoulders were squared, her chin up. She wore a barely there sheath of emerald green and matching four-inch stilettos. A gold choker glistened at her slender throat, and she carried a small gold clutch purse.

  Bennett could not take his eyes from her.

  The redhead scouted them a table and hustled her friends into place. The blonde took a seat with her back to him. She laughed at something the brunette said. It was a sweet, melodious sound.

  A man in a cowboy hat came over to talk to them. He leaned down to whisper in the blonde’s ear. She raised her neck. The action caused her pale hair to swish against her ivory cheek, and she tugged gently at her earlobe.

  The gesture was so subtly seductive, Bennett had to give her credit. In nightclubs, most women were pretty obvious with their sexuality. Like the blonde’s red-haired friend, but not this one. She exuded an elegant, old-world grace that took his breath away.

  He wanted to know her.

  No, wanted was too mild a word. He felt compelled to make her acquaintance. Something inexplicable was pushing him forward, urging him to get her phone number.

  Wrapping his fingers around his beer bottle, Bennett got up and strolled around the bar, hoping to get a better glimpse of her face.

  But before he could reach a vantage point across from their table, she took the cowboy’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. She cast a tentative glance over her shoulder, and her red-haired friend gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign. Apparently, she approved the blonde’s choice.

  For some reason it bugged him that the blonde had selected the cowboy. If that’s what she was looking for, then he was out of the running. Bennett was as far away from cowboy as one could get and still be standing on Texas soil.

  Bennett went to stand in the archway leading to the dance floor. Several other men were holding up the wall, observing the dancers and waiting their turn to waltz with the ladies of their choice. Crossing his arms over his chest, he casually grasped the long-necked bottle between his thumb and index finger.

  The disc jockey had put on a country and western tune Bennett didn’t recognize. He watched while the cowboy two-stepped the blonde around the dance floor, her feet barely touching the ground. She was uncertain in her movements, as if she didn’t two-step very often, but still graceful, nonetheless.

  She reminded him of someone. Whom, he couldn’t quite say. For no reason whatsoever he found himself wondering if her eyes were whirlpool blue.

  Who was she? He had to know. As soon as the cowboy relinquished her, he’d find out.

  Her hair swirled as she danced. Bennett found himself mesmerized, and he wasn’t the only one. He caught many covetous glances angling her way from the men lined against the wall.

  You’re jealous, he thought, then immediately dismissed the idea. How could he be jealous of a woman he didn’t even know?

  What was this unpleasant squeezing he experienced deep in his gut as he watched the cowboy slowly slide his hand lower and lower until he was almost touching her firm buttocks encased so seductively in that snug-fitting dress?

  The blonde didn’t seem to mind that the cowboy was getting his fill. She didn’t move his hand away or slap his face. She might enjoy being fondled in public. Had she come here intent on lassoing herself a cowboy for the night?

  Bennett gritted his teeth and taste jealousy. This is completely irrational, Sheridan. Get over the woman.<
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  Shaking his head, he turned away, unable to bear another moment of watching the cowboy grope the soft flesh he yearned to nuzzle. It had been much too long since he’d had the pleasure of a woman’s company if he was letting something like this upset him.

  “How you doing, buddy?” Grant clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Having a good time?”

  Bennett shrugged and wondered why he had come.

  “I saw you eyeing that pretty little blonde. Very cute.”

  “You know her?” Bennett perked up.

  “No, but she sure does catch the eye, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to wrangle an introduction from Grant. “How about her friends? Do you know them?” Bennett cocked his head toward the table where the brunette and redhead were surrounded by men.

  “I know CeeCee, the redhead, everyone does.”

  CeeCee was very attractive, Bennett had to give her that, but in his estimation, she couldn’t hold a candle to her fair-haired friend.

  At that moment, the blonde returned from the dance floor—sans cowboy, Bennett was pleased to note. She passed right by where he and Grant stood. Bennett narrowed his eyes, desperate for a closer look. Her scent caught his nose as she floated off.

  Roses. He’d smelled that perfume before.

  Lacy?

  His heart skipped a beat. Nah. Couldn’t be. This vibrant young lady simply couldn’t be the shy scrub nurse.

  Then she stopped, turned, and met his gaze. There was no mistaking those Alps-blue eyes. He’d stared into them for hours at a time. Stared at those eyes and lusted after the woman who possessed them.

  Coquettishly, she pursed her lips and blew him a kiss.

  4

  Lacy felt physically ill. Dancing with that cowboy and then blowing Bennett a kiss drained every ounce of courage she possessed. What had come over her? Hands trembling, she sat down at the table beside CeeCee and Janet.

  Had Bennett recognized her? She had wanted him to, and yet the thought of holding a conversation with him caused her chest to squeeze so tightly it was a miracle she could breathe.