The Girl of His Dreams Read online

  Sarah patted her nearly useless legs. “I’ll be there. Even if I have to crawl.”

  Kayla waved the words away. “Never. We’ll send the royal jet for you. Maybe one or two young men to rub your feet on the way, too.”

  Sarah laughed. “You are a love. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  Kayla leaned forward and hugged her. “I’ll miss you, too. That’s the only bad part about leaving.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Sarah put on her reading glasses and picked up a letter on the nightstand. “I’ve written to my friend Marie. I told you about her. Danny and I met her when we visited Paris. She’s answered me and says she would be delighted to introduce you to her granddaughter, who is only a couple of years older than you.” She smiled. “You’ll have friends when you arrive.”

  “Thank you.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, then Kayla collected Rip and promised to return at the end of the week. Downstairs, she found Patrick talking to Mrs. Grisham. Mr. Peters caught her eye and motioned to Patrick, then winked. Patrick turned and caught the gesture. He glanced at Kayla and shrugged, as if to say, “What can we do?”

  “Did you vaccinate the cat?” she asked, walking toward Patrick.

  “Whiskers is the picture of health, and safe for another year,” he said.

  She remembered his attempt to vaccinate Whiskers last year. “Did she scratch you?”

  He held up his left hand. A long red welt curved across the back, from his little finger to his wrist.

  She winced. “At least it’s not as bad as last time.”

  “Small comfort.”

  “You could have asked me to help.”

  He looked insulted. “I can handle an eighteen-pound cat on my own.”

  “It must be tough being so macho.”

  He reached around her and tugged on the end of her braid. “I’ll write you up for insubordination.”

  “Go ahead. I’m friendly with the boss, and I’ll appeal.”

  Kayla realized all the residents were listening intently. Mrs. Grisham caught her gaze and nodded encouragingly.

  Perfect, she thought, then called Elizabeth to her side. “We’d better be going,” she said cheerfully, determined to ignore the not-so-subtle matchmaking. “I’ll be back on Friday.”

  Patrick picked up Trudi’s leash, and they said their goodbyes as they left the building.

  “Are they always that bad?” Patrick asked as he stowed his medical bag behind the driver’s seat.

  “About getting me in a relationship?” She nodded. “Yeah, they are. It’s worse when you’re with me. Then they want to turn us into a couple. When you’re not around, I’m usually bombarded with pictures of grandsons, nephews, or told to check out the guy cleaning the pool.” She secured the latch on Rip’s cage.

  “Have you told them about your plans to seduce Prince Albert?”

  She grinned. “Only Sarah. I don’t think the rest of them would approve. I suppose it’s sweet of them to care about me.

  “Why wouldn’t they? You care about them. You started this program two years ago, and they’ve never had to miss a visit. If you weren’t around, you made sure someone else was. They appreciate that.” He slammed the rear door of the van. “You’re not going to be easy to replace.”

  She moved toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was five foot seven, but Patrick towered over her by six inches. When he hugged her back, she rested her head on his shoulder and inhaled his familiar scent.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she said.

  “Compared to your rich prince, I’m pretty forgettable.”

  She smiled up at him. “No way. I bet he can’t cook as good as you. And he would probably be very upset to know that I would like to encourage a romance between Duchess and Mr. Cookie.”

  “I’m very upset to hear that. They’re both purebred animals. Besides, have you thought about how the pups would look?”

  She stepped back. “Not to mention the logistical difficulties of Mr. Cookie trying to—”

  “Kayla.” He growled her name in mock anger.

  She laughed and went around to climb into the passenger’s seat.

  “What are we doing tonight?” she asked as he pulled out of the driveway.

  “We aren’t doing anything. I have a date.”

  Kayla’s throat closed unexpectedly, and she found it difficult to ask, “Anyone I know?”

  “Maybe.”

  Usually, his teasing made her laugh. Today she felt a tightness in her chest. She couldn’t explain the reaction, and it made her uncomfortable.

  “Have a wonderful time,” she said, relieved that her voice sounded completely normal. What on earth was wrong with her? “Don’t forget we have a lot of work to do in the living room before I leave.” They were stripping off old wallpaper and replacing it with something less floral. “Of course, if the relationship works out, you can get her to help you,” she added.

  “Gotcha,” he said.

  She turned toward him. “What? You don’t have a date?”

  He normally wore his hair brushed back off his forehead. By the end of the day, a few strands always tumbled forward. He pushed them away. “You deserved it, telling me I was getting old and should get married.”

  “I never said you were old. I said in the seven years I’d known you, you’d never been involved in a serious relationship.” She folded her arms over her chest and looked out the window. “I hate it when you’re difficult,” she muttered.

  “I thought you hated it when I was agreeable.”

  “That, too.”

  “So are you coming over to help me tonight?”

  “I shouldn’t. I should let you finish on your own.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “Are you cooking?”

  “Grilled chicken and a salad. I thought I could cajole you into fixing rice.”

  “Did you make your secret barbecue sauce?”

  “Does Mr. Cookie want Duchess?”

  She laughed, her good humor restored. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there.”

  As she watched the familiar scenery slip by, her world righted itself. Next to her two sisters, Patrick was her best friend. She needed things to be okay between them. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Sarah’s photo album. He would understand what those old pictures meant to her. He always understood.

  Chapter Two

  Although the sun had long since set, light spilled onto the back patio from the kitchen window and the malibu lights set around the garden. Warmth lingered from the sunny day, although by ten the temperature would drop into the low sixties. Patrick pushed against the concrete deck and sent the swing rocking.

  Kayla sighed and rested her head against the soft cushions. “I could spend the rest of the night right here.”

  She reclined on the swing, her back supported by the swing’s right arm and a throw pillow she’d brought out from the living room. She rested her bare feet in Patrick’s lap. He rested one hand on her ankles. With his other hand, he stroked the delicate arch pressing against his thigh.

  “You’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes,” he said.

  She opened one eye and gazed at him. “But I cooked dinner.”

  She was the picture of innocence and contentment. All an act, he thought, and grinned. Inside, she had the heart of a pirate. “You cooked the rice and set the table. I did everything else.”

  “I kept you company by the barbecue. That was work.”

  He grabbed her feet and tugged, pulling her down so that she lay flat on the swing seat. She tried to giggle and yelp at the same time, the noise she made sounding like a seal.

  “Patrick, no,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t.”

  “Too late. You’re trying to weasel out of the dishes.”

  “No, no, I’ll do them. I’ll do all of them. I’ll even wash the floor.”

  “Cheap talk.”

  He wrapped his arm around her ankles to hold her still.
Then, with his free hand, he brought his thumb and forefinger together like a crab’s pincer.

  “Patrick, don’t!” She gasped with laughter as he moved his fingers closer to her feet bottoms. She tried to sit up, but she was laughing too much. “I give. I give!”

  He released her. “Let that be a lesson to you.”

  She collapsed back on the swing. Her jean-clad legs fell across his lap. “I swear I’ll do the dishes,” she said, and inhaled deeply. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

  “Lightweight.”

  She tucked her arm under her head and gazed at him. “We can’t all get by on six hours of sleep and running five miles a day. Some of us like to conserve our energy for other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like sleep.”

  He rested one hand on her shin, the other just above her knee. “You need energy to sleep?”

  “Sure. If it’s done right.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Kayla had interesting theories on almost everything in life. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this one.

  When he didn’t speak, she blinked flirtatiously. “You’re not going to bite?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s a great explanation.”

  “Thank you, no.”

  “Fine. Be a toad. See if I care.” She pouted.

  He didn’t respond. She was silent for about ten seconds, then poked his thigh. “You always win,” she said. “Why is that?”

  “I’m a naturally superior being.”

  That took a heartbeat for her to register. Kayla didn’t disappoint him. She sprang up and grabbed his hand, trying to twist it behind his back. He let her tug and grunt, but his arm didn’t budge.

  “You’re not strong enough,” he said mildly.

  “I hate that.” She gave up on his arm and settled for squeezing his fingers together as hard as she could. She generated enough pressure to make him notice, but not enough to really hurt.

  A strand of hair drifted onto her face. She released him and brushed it away impatiently. Settling back on her knees, she said, “I’ve got to start working out. When I’m strong enough, I’m going to kick butt.”

  He touched her cheek. “I’m a runner, Kayla. You’re going to have to catch me first.”

  “Figures.” She smiled. “I swear, you’re not winning this one. If I have to, I’ll hire someone to kick butt.”

  “Just like I always say. You have the heart of a pirate. When did you get to be so bloodthirsty?”

  She twisted around and sat next to him. He dropped his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his chest. “It’s part of my charm. You love it.” She snuggled closer. “Any news on the grant?”

  “Nothing yet. I’m hoping to hear in the next few weeks.”

  “I know the wait’s the worst part, but it’s going to work out. They have to give you the money. You’re the best candidate. I just know it.”

  Her faith touched him. “Thanks, Kayla. You were a great help to me. I couldn’t have finished the proposals without you.”

  While Patrick’s private veterinary practice was successful, in the past couple of years he’d found himself growing restless. In college, he’d spent as much time as possible working in the research lab studying disease in house pets. His goal had always been to return there.

  “Is the lot you were looking at still for sale?” she asked.

  “It was the last time I drove by.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t get your hopes up too much. This is a very ambitious project. Not only does it require building an entire six-story building, but then it has to be staffed. We’re talking about millions of dollars.”

  “What about the clinic?” she asked. “Will you still work there?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I’d prefer to focus on the research for the first couple of years. Of course, it’s going to take some time to get the building constructed. I’ll hire a couple of vets and ease them into the practice.”

  ”A couple? You think you work that hard? ”Her voice teased.

  As she stared up at him, he saw the light from the window reflected in her green eyes. Cat eyes, he thought. All-knowing and beautiful. She’d showered before she came over. She rarely bothered with perfume, so her sweet scent came from soap, shampoo and her smooth skin. Her hair hung loose down her back, the natural curls teasing his forearms.

  He remembered her as a slightly awkward, shy eighteen-year-old. Over the past few years, she’d become an attractive woman. While they’d never been a couple, they were good friends. He was going to miss her when she was gone.

  “You’re going to need two replacements, as well,” he said.

  Her mouth straightened. “You think so?”

  He nodded. “I’ll get a part-timer in to take care of the grooming. The more difficult problem is finding someone to take over the visitations to Sunshine Village.”

  She ducked her head and leaned against his chest again. “I know. I’ve been worrying about that, too. We’re going to have to find someone who really cares about the people there. I think I’ll start asking around. Maybe someone at one of the colleges, or a stay-at-home mom looking for something different to do while her kids are in school. I’ll make sure it’s right before I leave.”

  “Are you going to find me a new best friend, too?” he asked, only partly kidding.

  She wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed. “Oh, Patrick, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll be back, and we’ll stay in touch.”

  “I know, kid. It’ll be fine.”

  He heard the smile in her voice as she said, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “I know.”

  He could feel her breast pressing into his midsection. Reminding himself that Kayla was just a friend didn’t stop a sliver of interest from sparking to life. He ignored the sensation. He’d felt the occasional spark before and done nothing about it. He preferred Kayla in his life as his friend. That way, there were never any scenes, angry words or false expectations, and there was no risk of breaking up.

  If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t want her to go. But not wanting her to leave him wasn’t enough to convince him to ask her to stay. Kayla had spent years planning this trip. Her whole dream in life was to travel. She wanted to see the world. He’d grown up moving from one military base to another. What was the old cliché? She wanted wings, and he wanted roots.

  He cared enough about her to wish her well on her journey. When she was gone, maybe he would take her up on her suggestion that he start dating. That would distract him from the hole her absence would create in his life.

  He pulled his arm free of her and stood up. “You’re trying to make me forget that there are dishes to be done. Don’t think I’m going to let you get out of your duty.”

  She grumbled under her breath, then held out her hands. He pulled her to her feet. “All right, Mr. Tyrant. I’m coming. Maybe you should chain me to the sink so I can’t escape.”

  He lightly kissed the top of her head. “Whine, whine, whine. And here I was going to be nice and let you dry.”

  She darted in front of him and spun until they were facing each other. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed. “Yes, Patrick. Please let me dry. You know I hate washing.”

  Ten minutes later, he was up to his elbows in soapy water. Kayla sat on the counter next to him, holding a dish towel and waiting for the next glass.

  “I’m sorry I got so weird when you said you had a date tonight,” she told him. “It just sort of caught me off guard.

  With so little time before I leave, I guess I selfishly want you to spend your free time with me.”

  He smiled, remembering her cranky expression. “No problem.”

  She took the glass he offered and began to dry it. The overhead light reflected off Kayla’s hair, turning blonde into spun gold. She wore a plain white T-shirt tucked into clean, worn jeans. Her feet were still bare. Loafers rested by the f
ront door. The first thing she did upon entering her home or his was to kick off her shoes.

  “Do you ever think about getting married?” she asked.

  He rinsed a plate, then handed it to her. “Sometimes. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

  “You’re thirty-one.”

  “So you reminded me earlier today.”

  “What aren’t you ready for?”

  He shrugged. Marriage was a big step. “I’ve avoided long-term entanglements,” he said. “Much as you have.”

  She tossed her head and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m saving myself for Prince Albert. What’s your excuse?”

  He reached for the pot she’d used to cook rice and pushed it under the water. The bay window in front of him wasn’t curtained, so the glass acted as a mirror, reflecting his image and the room behind him. He stared at the reflection for a couple of seconds.

  “I don’t have one,” he admitted at last.

  Kay la leaned toward him and touched his shoulder. “It’s your dad, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. I guess. According to what everyone told me, my folks were really in love.”

  “But that’s a good thing. You should want that, too.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have a memory of it. She died when I was two. What I do remember is my dad mourning her. It was as if he’d lost a leg and was forever cursed to walk with a limp. Except the missing part of him was his heart. He lived another twenty years, and there wasn’t a day that he didn’t pray for her to return.”

  Patrick remembered coming home from school early once. He must have been nine or ten. He hadn’t known his dad was in the house, so he’d let himself in the front door, using the key he wore around his neck. He’d found his father in the dining room. The older man had sat at the table, the wedding album open in front of him. Silent tears had poured down his face. He hadn’t made a sound as he turned pages and wept.

  The memory was as clear today as it had been then. He’d felt his father’s pain. The depth of the wound had terrified him. As a child, he’d feared being abandoned by his only living parent. He’d crept out of the room without letting his father know he’d seen him.