Forever…Again Page 2

  She swung her legs off the edge of the desk in a graceful sweep that caught his attention despite his better judgment. But hell, he was male, wasn’t he? Only natural that he should notice a pair of shapely legs. And as she slid her feet into the high heels that did absolutely amazing things for her calves, he told himself there was nothing unusual about looking. It was touching that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow himself.

  Not that he wanted to touch.

  He groaned inwardly and focused his gaze on her big brown eyes instead. He wasn’t entirely sure which view was safer.

  She stood up and her bold red suit seemed to cling to every curve. And, God help him, she had plenty of curves. She wasn’t very tall, no more than five-six or -seven, but every inch of her was solidly packed.

  “I can give you another copy if you like…”

  “Not necessary,” he said, already backing toward the door. Coward his brain whispered.

  Damn right, he countered silently.

  “If you’re worried about the clinic, you needn’t be,” she said.

  Instantly Ron’s attention shifted to where it should, hopefully, remain. On business.

  “You’ll forgive me if I go ahead and worry anyway.”

  “Of course you will.”

  The sigh behind her words had him asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She eased one hip onto the corner of her desk, perching gingerly against the antique furniture. “I only meant that people like you will worry whether there’s cause or not.”

  “People like me?”

  She lifted her left hand into a brief wave, and that bracelet of hers chimed musically. “You know, stuffy, stalwart types.”

  Stalwart he could live with. Stuffy seemed a little…insulting.

  “And you figure you know my ‘type’ quite well, do you?”

  “Not hard to guess.”

  Leave now, he thought. Leave before you get drawn into yet another contest of wills with a woman who had absolutely no “back-up gear” in her. Naturally though, he couldn’t do that.

  “I’m fascinated,” he said dryly.

  She smiled briefly. “Oh, I can see that.”

  “Please, explain my ‘type.”’

  She paused, watching him, and even the air between them hummed with expectation. Then she started talking.

  “Okay…” She pushed off the desk and walked across her ridiculously expensive and out-of-place rug to stop just inches in front of him. “I grew up around people as sturdy as you, you know. So I speak from experience.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  One corner of her mouth twitched, and his gaze fastened on the curve of her lip, damn it.

  “You always do what’s expected of you.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “Just boring.”

  “And boring is a crime?”

  “Just tedious.”

  “Oh,” he said, giving her a slow nod, “do go on.”

  “All right.” She walked a slow circle around him, and Ron could have sworn he felt her gaze sweep him up and down as if he were an interesting slide show in a biology class. “You make decisions based on what’s best for ‘the family.’ Never any side trip into interesting…just a long, slow trip on the main highway. Go where you’re supposed to be and get there in the prescribed manner.”

  He shifted position uncomfortably. She managed to make him sound like an automaton.

  “And you prefer the side roads?”

  “Of course.” She shrugged.

  “Don’t you get lost?”

  “See new territory, discover new things.”

  “And you don’t believe in maps, then, either?”

  “Maps.” She shook her head. “They’re for outlining the road, and what fun is that? You might as well stay at home and draw red lines on an atlas. If you’re not open to discovery, why go at all?”

  “Are we still talking about stodgy, stalwart lives or have we moved on to summer road trips?”

  “I said ‘stuffy’ not ‘stodgy’,” she corrected. “And isn’t life the same thing as a good road trip?”

  “How do you figure?” Somehow he’d lost control of this conversation. That happened all too often around Lily Cunningham. She seemed to have her own sort of logic that defied description.

  She stopped in front of him again and tipped her head back so that she was looking directly into his eyes. The soft scent of jasmine lifted from her hair, and before he could remind himself not to notice…he had.

  “Everyone starts out on the same road. Some of us stay on the highway—some of us take the back roads.” She smiled again. “Just like life. Some of us never look away from the goal long enough to be sure there isn’t some other goal that would be just as good if not better. You miss a lot when you never get off the highway.”

  “Maybe,” Ron said. “But you don’t run into many dead ends that way, either.”

  Chapter Two

  Ridiculous, but hours later Lily was still thinking about her conversation with Ron Bingham. There was simply something about the man. That could be good…or bad. But either way, he was spending far too much time in her thoughts.

  Deliberately turning her mind away from him, Lily swung her leather bag over her shoulder and left her office for the day. Heading down the hall, she walked in step to the music drifting through the speakers. Passing through the waiting room, she smiled at a little boy holding up his scribbled drawing of what might have been a pony—if ponies were allowed six legs. Tired mothers and pregnant women still crowded the waiting room and Lily knew Mari wouldn’t leave the building until every last one of them had been seen and reassured. The woman really was a wonder, Lily thought, admiration flaring.

  Dr. Mari Bingham was determined to make the clinic her grandmother had founded the best of its kind. Even that, though, wasn’t enough for Mari. The biomedical facility she wanted to build would not only bring needed jobs into Merlyn County, it would spearhead research into infertility and stem cells and other life-saving—though possibly controversial—areas.

  Lily sighed as she stood in the center of the lobby and let her gaze drift from one woman to another as they read magazines or chatted. What were they thinking? Oh, she knew they’d come for prenatal care and that was all to the good. But Lily had also heard the talk flying around town. Gossip about Mari and her plans, and about the high-powered backers who’d pulled out their monetary support for the facility. There was just too much gossip, Lily thought. Of course, in a small town, you really couldn’t avoid it. Still, one would think that the very women Mari was working so hard to serve would be willing to defend her rather than talk about her behind her back.

  Mari worked like a dog to make sure the women in this part of Kentucky could have good prenatal care—and a clean, welcoming place in which to give birth, whether the women wanted to use a midwife or a doctor. But sometimes, Lily told herself, it was the people who owed you the most who enjoyed talking you down. Maybe people just didn’t care to be beholden to anyone.

  The chatter around her lifted and fell, then dropped away completely as she pushed through the glass door and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. The weather was close, as it had been all summer. Humidity made the air thick enough to chew. But beyond the misery of the heat, there was a clean freshness to the Kentucky mountain air that she’d never found anywhere else.

  New York’s crowded streets with their racing pedestrians and noisy cabs seemed a world away, and Lily was glad for it. She’d needed this change. This chance to step off the treadmill and enjoy her life a little. The work at the clinic was challenging enough to keep her happy—while giving her time to explore the new world she found herself in.

  She’d only been in rural Kentucky a few months, but already it felt like home. Here, no one cared if she wanted to walk barefoot down Main Street. There were no reporters ready to snap a picture of Lillith Cunningham being anything less than dignified. And, there was enough of a buffer zone between her and
her family that Lily felt free, for the first time in her life.

  Two or three pickup trucks dotted the parking lot, alongside a couple of minivans and a station wagon that looked to be on its last legs. Sunlight speared from the sky and glanced off the asphalt until heat waves shimmered in the air.

  “Like walking with a wet electric blanket wrapped around you,” Lily muttered as she slipped out of her suit jacket and stepped out of her heels. The parking lot felt red hot against the soles of her feet and still it was more comfortable than walking another step on three-inch heels.

  For all the problems crowding in on the clinic, Lily didn’t for a moment regret moving here. Binghamton, Kentucky, was as far removed from New York City as the moon was from the sun. Everything was different here. Even she was different.

  All right, maybe not so different. But at least here, Lily thought, her differences fit right in. Growing up in an “old money” family, she’d been the black sheep almost from the moment of her birth. Born in the family limousine on the way to the hospital, Lily had never lived down her “undignified” entrance into the world. In fact, she’d pretty much done all she could to live up to it.

  In high school she’d dyed her hair purple, worn her skirts too short and dated all the “wrong” boys. She drove too fast, listened to what her parents called “appalling” music and took part in protest marches. By the time she left home for college, Lily could have sworn she could actually hear the stately old Boston family home breathe a sigh of relief. Heaven knew, her parents had.

  At college things were different. At UCLA she’d discovered a whole new world. In California life was more relaxed, less rigid. There were fewer rules, and no one thought of wearing anything more formal than a pair of clean jeans. Lily had found a place where she fit in. She’d thrived on the distance from her caring, but stiffly formal family. She’d even fallen in love.

  “But then,” she muttered as she hit the button on her keychain that would unlock her car, “nothing’s perfect.”

  Her marriage hadn’t started out badly. Everything had been fine. Until the day a doctor told Lily she couldn’t have children. And just like that, it was over. Jack was packed and gone within the week—the divorce was final six months later.

  Lily opened her car door and tossed her purse across to the passenger seat. Tilting her face up, she looked at the cloud-scattered sky and blew out a breath. The past didn’t matter anymore. Whatever paths she’d taken in her life, they’d eventually led her here. And that was all that mattered.

  Sliding into her car, she jammed the key home, turned it and instantly flipped up the volume on her radio. An oldie but goodie came pouring out of the speakers and as Lily put the car in reverse, she started singing along.

  She turned left out of the lot and headed toward downtown. In no rush to hurry home, she decided the heat of the day called for a reprieve. Driving to South Junction Burgers, she kept singing as she imagined getting her hands on one of the burger joint’s famous milkshakes.

  The air-conditioning hit her like a slap, and Lily almost reeled with the impact. The diner felt like heaven. Only a handful of customers were inside, and Lily smiled at them as she headed back to her favorite…and luckily empty booth.

  She slid onto the worn Naugahyde and didn’t even bother picking up one of the menus tucked between the sugar and the salt and pepper shakers. What would be the point? South Junction wasn’t fine cuisine. People came here for one reason.

  “Hey, Ms. Cunningham.”

  Lily smiled up at her waitress. “Hi, Vickie.”

  Vickie Hastings had a mountain of blond hair, pulled up on top of her head and then lacquered into complete submission. Her blue eyes were lined heavily with black eyeliner, and her mascara had been layered on so thickly, she looked as if two caterpillars were taking naps on her eyelids. She snapped her gum and wore her short uniform dress way too tight, across breasts she seemed inordinately proud of, but she had a nice smile and was always friendly.

  “The usual?” Vickie asked, pulling her pad and pen from her apron pocket.

  Lily laughed. Good God. She was a regular at a diner. Her mother would be hysterical. And that cheered Lily a little. “You bet. Only tonight, make the milkshake strawberry for a change.”

  Vickie chuckled. “I don’t know. Living dangerously. If you don’t have a chocolate shake on Thursday nights, the world might stop spinning.”

  “Let’s risk it.”

  “You got it.” Vickie filled out the order pad, but didn’t move away.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Well.” The waitress threw a glance over her shoulder at the long counter behind her and the open pass-through to the kitchen where her boss was cooking. When she was assured no one was paying attention to her, she turned back to Lily and said, “Now that you mention it…”

  The air-conditioning had done its job. Lily felt refreshed enough to handle whatever it was that had Vickie worrying her bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m uh—” she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice “—pregnant.”

  Lily blinked. This kind of news wasn’t usually delivered with all the stealth of a CIA man making a hand-off to his partner. “Congratulations?” she asked, unsure if Vickie was wanting to celebrate or commiserate.

  “Thanks.” A brief smile curved Vickie’s mouth and then disappeared again a moment later. “Billy’n me’re real happy about it. But the thing is,” she leaned in even closer, and soon, Lily thought, the two of them would be nose to nose. “I was wondering. You work at the clinic.”

  “Yes…” A flicker of irritation started at the base of Lily’s spine, and she told herself to fight it. She didn’t know what Vickie was going to say so there was no point in getting angry or defensive.

  Yet.

  “I wanted to ask you if going in there is really safe.”

  There it was.

  That tiny flicker of irritation became a flame and quickly jumped to an inferno as it climbed her spine, jittered her nerves and settled, unfortunately for Vickie, in Lily’s mouth.

  “For heaven’s sake, Vickie!” Lily leaned back, but kept her gaze locked eyeball to eyeball with the younger woman. “You’ve known Mari Bingham all your life. And you can ask me something like that?”

  Vickie’s expression tightened, and a flash of what might have been shame darted across her eyes, but it was gone again in an instant, so it was hard to be sure. “I’m just askin’,” she said, defending her right to badmouth an old friend. “There’s been talk.”

  “There certainly has,” Lily snapped, then belatedly remembered to keep her voice down. She shot a quick look around the diner, then focused her gaze on Vickie again. “And its being spread by people too foolish or too ignorant to know any better.”

  “Now, Ms. Cunningham…” Insulted, she straightened up.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Lily said, grabbing Vickie’s hand as the woman started backing off. “You asked me a question and you’re not leaving until you’ve had your answer.”

  But Vickie was obviously regretting saying anything. Her gaze darted around the room, and even Lily could see that Danny, the cook and owner, was watching them from the kitchen. It didn’t stop her.

  “Now, you listen to me, Vickie.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Mari Bingham is the most dedicated, caring, loving person I’ve ever known. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever seen and she’s devoted herself to making sure you and every other woman in Merlyn County get the kind of care you deserve.”

  “Yes.” Anxious now, Vickie was willing to agree to anything as she tried to pull her hand free of Lily’s grasp. She didn’t succeed.

  “Any problems that are going on have nothing to do with Mari or her clinic and you should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking that they do.”

  “Ms. Cunningham…”

  But Lily’s temper was up and there was just no stopping her. Her voice dropped a notch, but none of the fury
left it. “Do you really believe for one instant that Mari Bingham is dealing drugs?”

  Vickie sucked in a breath, clearly horrified. “Course not, but—”

  “No buts. Do you trust Mari? Do you know her?”

  “Yes—”

  “Then don’t you think you’ve answered your own question, Vickie?”

  “I guess so, but still there’s—”

  Lily’s eyes narrowed and Vickie shut up fast, keeping whatever she’d been about to say to herself. Just as well, Lily thought. It would do no good to browbeat the populace of Binghamton one at a time. For heaven’s sake, if they didn’t believe in one of their own, how on earth could she, an outsider, convince them? And Lily had no illusions about her status. She could live in Binghamton for the next fifty years and she’d always be considered an outsider.

  Taking a deep breath, she blew it out again quickly, then forced a smile she didn’t feel and released her grip on Vickie’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving the waitress’s hand a belated pat. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  “It’s okay,” Vickie admitted. “My Bill, he’s always saying I’m enough to drive a saint right out of Heaven.”

  “Well,” Lily said with a short laugh, “I’m no saint.”

  Vickie took an uneasy step backward but shared the laugh. “And the Junction sure isn’t Heaven.”

  “Too true.” Lily smoothed her hair back from her face, then calmly and coolly folded her hands together on the scarred tabletop. “So, I guess I’ll be staying. Could I have that milkshake right away, Vickie. I think I could use a little cooling off.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “I mean, yes, ma’am. Coming right up.”

  As the younger woman scurried back toward the counter, Lily sucked in another deep breath and told herself she was going to have to take it easy. It wouldn’t help Mari’s or the clinic’s case at all if word got around that their PR director was running around town shouting at people who disagreed with her.