The Doctor's Christmas

No sense asking the question. He already knew the answer. He’d looked at Maggie and felt a shockingly strong wave of attraction. Maggie had felt it, too.

That wouldn’t do. He rejected the temptation. This month would be difficult enough without that kind of entanglement.

A pleasant, professional relationship—that was what was called for here. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to move beyond that instant antagonism. Maybe he should have settled for being sparring partners with Maggie, because anything else was out of the question.

Maggie stood at the reception desk checking charts. At least, she should have been checking charts. She definitely should not be thinking about those moments at supper last night when attraction had sparked between her and Grant.

She couldn’t dismiss the memory. Like the proverbial elephant in the living room, it took up too much space. She couldn’t ignore the warm wave that had washed over her, waking every cell in her body and reminding her she was alive.

All right, be rational. She couldn’t pretend that moment hadn’t happened, but she could understand her reactions. After all, she hadn’t had anyone special in her life for a long time—since she’d come back to Button Gap, in fact. She could hardly be surprised if working in close quarters with an attractive man roused feelings that were better left sleeping.

Grant was attractive. With his classically handsome face and his assured manner, he looked like what she suspected he was—a sophisticated, upper-class urbanite who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. A greater contrast to herself couldn’t be imagined.

Well, she wasn’t trying to measure his suitability for her, was she? She’d simply recognize the feeling for what it was and shut it down. She’d shut down worse emotions than this in her life. She could handle it.

She shuffled the charts into a stack and plopped them firmly on the desktop. No problem.

The exam room door opened. Grant came out with a patient—old Isaiah Martin, come to see if the new doc could do anything about his “rheumatiz.”

“Just see if those new pills help you.” Grant carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper gingerly in one hand. “Check in with us next week.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Isaiah tucked a handful of pill samples into the pocket of his dusty corduroy jacket, waved to Maggie and limped out, banging the door behind him.

Grant turned to her with a grin and held out the package. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

A parade of butterflies fluttered through her stomach at the grin. Okay, maybe she hadn’t eliminated the feelings. She could still settle for controlling her reactions so Grant never suspected.

She took the parcel and peeked inside. “Well, I’d suggest refrigerating it until you’re ready to eat it.” At his blank look, she smiled. “It’s venison sausage. Haven’t you ever had any?”

“Not that I can recall. I take it the barter system is alive and well in Button Gap.” He leaned against the desk, way too close for her state of mind. “Don’t they realize that the county pays the bills?”

She carried the package to the small refrigerator. “People here don’t like to accept charity. I’ve tried explaining that their tax dollars support the clinic, but most folks still want to pay their way.”

He shook his head. “They’re out of step with society, then.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No.” His smile warmed those cool blue eyes. “Anyway, you can have the sausage if you want it.”

“What’s the matter? Too rough for your sophisticated palate?”

Instead of responding with a smile or a jibe, he studied her face for a moment, as if wondering what lay beneath the skin. “That sounds like a criticism,” he said. “And I’m not sure why. What do you have against me, Maggie?”

She shouldn’t have let the remark pop out of her mouth. She knew better.

Grant waited, expecting an answer. At least he didn’t look angry.

“Sorry.” She forced herself to be honest with him. “I guess the problem is that I see the volunteers come and go. Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. We couldn’t run the clinic without them.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” He folded his arms across the front of the white lab coat he wore over a pale blue dress shirt.

She shrugged. “But sometimes they’re more trouble than they’re worth. And sometimes I get the feeling that the only reason they’re here is to fill in the line for public service on their résumés.”

“That’s a pretty harsh judgment, isn’t it?”

That was what Aunt Elly had said, in different words. She’d reminded Maggie that being judgmental was a sin.

“That’s how I feel. If I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”

He shoved himself away from the desk and came toward her, frowning. She had to force herself not to back up. He stopped, inches from her, his gaze intent on her face.

“Okay, fair enough. Why are you here, Maggie?”

Not for any reason I’d like to confide in you. “That’s a long story.”

“Give me the condensed version.” He didn’t look as if he intended to move until she did.

She looked up at him, then was sorry. He was too close for her state of mind. The tiny refrigerator was at her back, and he filled the narrow confines between the desk and the wall. She couldn’t walk away without brushing against him, and she wouldn’t do that. She had to say something.

“I worked in Pittsburgh for a time after I finished school, but I never got rid of my longing for the mountains. Button Gap felt like home to me, and I heard the county needed someone to run the clinic. So I came. End of story.”

“It’s a nice story.” His voice had lowered to a baritone rumble that did funny things to her. His fingers brushed hers. “You’re a dedicated person, Maggie.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Warmth seemed to emanate from his touch, flowing through her. She wanted to lean into him and feel that warmth encircle her.

She couldn’t.

What she’d told him wasn’t the whole story, and a large part of her particular story wasn’t nice at all.

That was just one more reason why she shouldn’t be letting herself feel anything at all when Grant was around. Unfortunately, that seemed easier said than done, especially when he looked at her with what might be admiration in his eyes.

“Grant, I—”

The door sounded, flooding her with relief. He moved, and she slipped around him. Aunt Elly came toward them. The heavy wool jacket she wore had probably belonged to her late husband, and she carried a basket over her arm, with a napkin tucked over something that smelled of cinnamon.

“Those aren’t cinnamon buns, are they?” Maggie leaned against the counter, smiling in welcome.

Movement beyond the plate-glass window caught her eye, and the smile faded. A county sheriff’s car pulled into the parking space in front of the clinic.

She felt instantly guilty, and it didn’t do any good to tell herself that the presence of the sheriff’s car meant nothing. It might well mean trouble if Grant was here when the occupant of that car came inside.

She rounded the counter quickly, taking Aunt Elly’s arm.

“You’re just in time to see the doctor.” She glanced meaningfully at the car, then back at Aunt Elly’s face. “Keep him busy,” she mouthed.

Aunt Elly followed her gaze, startled, then nodded. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s good. I want to talk to the doc about my knee.”

“You go on back.” She yanked open the file drawer to pull out Aunt Elly’s chart and hand it to Grant. “Dr. Hardesty’s coming right now.”