Authors: Billie Green
Waiting for Lila (5 page)
The night was as soft as velvet. Silver waves slid gently across the sand, and a salty breeze whispered through the palms, blending with the music from a distant mariachi band. Delilah and Bill walked hand in hand along the deserted beach toward the cluster of hotels, talking quietly as the night sounds played in the background.
"What does this remind you of?" Bill asked.
"This, the sand and water and sky? Or this, the tickling thing you're doing to my hand?"
"All of that. The night and us, what does it remind you of?"
She thought for a moment. "It reminds me of sand and water and sky and you doing tickling things to my hand."
"Boo, hiss. What are you, some kind of Scrooge? It's as plain as the nose on your face. This is Camelot."
"This is Acapulco, and my nose has never in its life been plain," she said flatly. "I've been told more times than I can count that it's elegant."
"All right, it's as elegant as the nose on your face that this is Camelot."
"It's Camelot?" she asked with a sly smile.
"It's Camelot."
"Then dive into the water and bring me Excali-bur."
He shook his head sadly. "You have to have something you can hold in your hand before you'll believe? All you have to do is listen to the magic. Hear that? That's Merlin telling you to wise up."
"Merlin?" she asked skeptically. "It sounded more like crickets to me. But I'll take your word for it. Although I suspect that maybe a few teeth have worn off your gears, I'll take your word for it."
"That's a good attitude," he said, then laughed as though he had a secret. "Try to hold on to it."
Maybe it did feel a little like Camelot, and maybe the crickets did sound like Merlin, Delilah thought with a smile. At least they might if she were the nice, pleasant woman she was pretending to be. If she were the kind of woman who believed in listening for magic.
And tonight I am
, she told herself.
Tonight I'm exactly that kind of woman
.
Suddenly she threw her hands up in the air as she whirled around and shouted, "Hello!"
Bill laughed again, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and caught her waist with both hands. "Hello yourself, but you don't have to yell, I'm right here."
She loved the rich sound of his laughter. It made her feel even warmer than his smile did. "I wasn't helloing you," she said haughtily.
"Oh? Who were you helloing, Merlin?"
"Don't be silly, I never talk to crickets," she said regally. "That was simply my way of making my presence known. I was beginning to feel awed by everything—the night and the sand and the water and the sky." And you, she added silently. Most of all you. "That's not good. Awed is not good at all. I want to be a part of it, not a spectator."
He stared at her for a moment, smiling as though he found her and her silliness enchanting. Then he threw his head back and shouted, "Hello!"
She listened as his voice joined the wind, the water, the mariachi band, and the crickets. Then she laughed with pleasure. "You see? Now you're a part of it too."
"Now we're both a part of it," he agreed softly.
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Do you feel peculiar? All floaty, as though you were walking on the moon? I don't think it's the wine—that was excellent wine, by the way—because I had only two glasses."
"Three glasses."
She waved a dismissing hand. "Two glasses, three, it doesn't matter. Alcohol doesn't affect me. The group and I used to have parties that would last for days. I don't see how we all lasted through medical school. Booger and Jack can come up with some of the most lethal concoctions. There was one they called the Fuzzy Navel. It was—"
She broke off and looked up at him. "Whoops," she said quietly.
His lips curved in a slow smile as he moved a step closer. "Well, what do you know about that? Lovely Lila is a doctor. You know what this means, don't you?"
She backed away warily. "It means if you break your leg, medical attention is close at hand?"
He laughed and took another step toward her. "Not close enough." Catching her hand, he placed it firmly on his neck. "Not nearly close enough. It's time to pay the forfeit, lovely Lila."
She stared at him for a moment, then she shrugged and stood on tiptoes to press her lips to his. Delilah had intended the kiss to be a perfunctory one, a salute acknowledging the fact that he had won. That was what she had intended. She wasn't sure how the kiss went astray, but the minute her lips touched his, she knew it had.
She had never felt such compelling sweetness, had never expected to feel it. But there it was just the same. It swirled through her, pulling her closer to him, and even closer, because although she had never felt it she knew instantly that she wanted more.
Only a tiny part of the old hardhearted Delilah remained active, and that part nagged at her, demanding that she think logically.
It's the wine and the moonlight,
the remnant of Delilah said. It's being far away from the restrictions of home.
It's because he's a stranger you'll never see again. That's the only reason it seems so special.
But as he pulled her down to the sand with him, pressing his lean, hard body to hers, it felt like more. It felt like so much more.
Endless moments later, when she was drunk on the sweetness and wonder, he raised his head slightly to stare into her astounded eyes. "Lila," he whispered huskily.
"Yes?" Her voice was even more husky than his.
"That's all. Just Lila."
She drew in a deep breath. "We should probably . . . you know, start back or something."
"Or something," he agreed.
Although it was difficult to think with his body pressing into hers, the bit of hardhearted Delilah was growing stronger. "No, really." she said as firmly as she could. "We need to get back to the hotel."
He touched her face and said deliberately, "I'm a doctor too. Do you know what that means?"
"It means you can fix your own broken leg."
He chuckled. "It means that we have even more in common than we thought, but more important, it means that it is now my turn to pay the forfeit."
"No—"
But it was too late. He had already lowered his head, bringing his warm mouth to hers. And that was all it took for the incredible sweetness to begin again, as fresh and new and wonderful as the first time.
Life had rules. It had certainties. One certainty was that the woman who was Delilah Jones stood for reality. Delilah Jones was a hard-nosed, hardhearted realist.
That had been a certainty yesterday. An hour earlier. Five minutes earlier. But it was no longer the case, for the realist seemed to have disappeared. In Bill's arms reality was suspended. There was no painful past. No uncertain future. Only this moment. This moment stretching into forever.
"Lila . . . Lila ... Lila," he whispered against her throat.
"Yes . . . yes . . . yes," she whispered back, then they both laughed, at nothing, at everything.
He moved his fingers slowly up her throat, then cupped her face with both hands. They were strong hands, hands to depend on. And as he stared again into her eyes, Delilah saw a different world there, real but different from anything she had known. She felt herself being pulled into the world in his eyes. It was a place of warmth and happiness. A place where darkness wasn't allowed.
"Delilah?"
Although the wcrd was spoken tentatively, it was nonetheless intrusive. Delilah reluctantly looked away from Bill and found Booger standing a foot away, shifting his feet as he looked down at them.
"Hello, Booger." Her voice was unrecognizably dreamy. "Isn't it a beautiful night?"
"I hate to bother you," Booger said hesitantly, "but Addie and I have joined forces, and we've got someone we want you to meet."
Bill didn't take his gaze from Delilah's face when he said, "He's too tall, Booger."
"Too tall?" Booger repeated in confusion.
"Or too round or too square. Too hot or too cold," Bill said, smiling down at Delilah. "He's the wrong one, Booger."
"Dee?" Booger said hesitantly.
"Listen to the man," Delilah said, returning Bill's smile. "He seems to know what he's talking about."
She didn't notice when Booger walked away because she had stepped again into the wonderful, secure world contained in Bill's eyes.
"I can't understand why you have that silly little piece of green in your eye," she murmured. "Is it there just to please me?"
"Why else would it be there? My mother says it's the devil in me trying to get out, but if it pleases you, then that's reason enough for it to be there."
"It pleases me."
"You please me," he whispered, his voice going hoarse again. "Everything about you pleases me because everything about you is special. If someone had asked me to dream the perfect woman, you would have been my dream."
She felt a hot wave of guilt wash over her, spoiling everything. The woman he was talking about, the special woman, wasn't Delilah. That woman didn't exist. She was a fabrication, a product of an imagination Delilah hadn't known she possessed until she had met Bill.
She couldn't let it continue. She had to stop it now, before it got too far out of hand. Bill was a wonderful man and shouldn't be made a fool of. Too wonderful.
"Bill, I'm not who you think I am," she whispered. "I'm not special. I—"
The rest of her confession was lost in his kiss. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to contradict a man who's kissing your neck," he murmured as he moved his lips to her throat. When she shivered in sensual response he drew back a fraction of an inch to stare into her eyes. "I know what you are; I know who you are. You're the melody that's been playing across the back of my mind for years. Elusive, haunting, and so incredibly beautiful."
"I am?" she asked weakly.
"You are."
She wasn't, but, sweet heaven, she wished she were. At that moment she would have given anything to be the woman Bill thought she was.
What could it hurt to pretend for a while longer, she asked herself. The deed was already done; a few minutes more couldn't possibly make any difference. For just a little while she wanted to be someone special.
Raising one finger to outline his lips, she whispered, "Maybe you'd better kiss my neck again so I won't be able to contradict you."
Delilah wasn't sure how long her "little while" with Bill lasted. She knew only that the moon had moved quite a distance in the sky by the time they stood up and walked arm in arm back to the hotel.
Outside the door to her suite he leaned down and kissed her again, but this time it was as soft and light as an angel's kiss. Their eyes met for a moment, then she opened the door and went inside.
❧
As soon as the door closed behind Delilah, Bill leaned against it and closed his eyes, a peculiar smile twisting his strong lips.
Lila
Over and over again the name echoed through his mind, through his body, right to the center of him. There was no room for anything else because she filled him completely. Only Lila.
He was just an ordinary man. Why had he been chosen to receive such a gift? How could he have been so lucky? He had wanted to get away for a few days to take care of business and visit old friends. Then suddenly, without warning, heaven had dropped into his arms.
Bill didn't question the fact that he had fallen in love with her so quickly, so absolutely. He knew only that he had. But swiftly, he reminded himself to move slowly and carefully with her. She had loosened up a little tonight, but she was still a realist who didn't believe in Camelot or guardian angels. And she had been hurt badly. Life had taught her to be skeptical. It was going to be a tough job convincing her that magic had been at work tonight on the beach.
He laughed softly, remembering her wary reaction in the restaurant when he had told her he recognized her. He could imagine what she would say when he tried to convince her that they had found each other for a reason; that it wasn't merely a medical conference that had brought them both to Acapulco; that something fantastic had happened between them. She wouldn't believe him.
Walking toward the elevator, he whistled softly under his breath. She would be a tough nut to crack all right, but he had never looked forward to anything so much in his life. He would convince her. He had no doubt about it. One way or the other, he would.
❧
Delilah leaned against the door in the darkened room. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. There was a sweet, warm fog in her brain, and it made everything feel out of kilter. The whole world had shifted sideways with the first touch of Bill's lips.
She couldn't understand it. Cool, calculating Delilah Jones was not supposed to feel this way. Never, never had she been carried away by emotions. Until now.
Was it possible that she had become so involved in the game of pretending to be a "normal" woman that she had begun to have the reactions a normal woman would have? That had to be it, she told herself firmly. She had simply been getting into her part. That was what made her feel so free, as though she hadn't a worry in the world.
Pushing away from the door, she frowned. Her life had never been without worries. There was always something dark lurking in the corners of her mind, memories from the past, fears for the future.
The fact that there was no darkness now made her positive that what she was feeling was not real. And Delilah needed reality. It was her only base. She wouldn't feel secure until she was her old pessimistic self again.
She shook her head. This conference was turning out to be more than she had bargained for. Everything had seemed so clear-cut, even this morning when she had walked off the plane. She remembered—it seemed ages ago instead of only hours—following her friends into the suite they had booked especially so they could all be together like in the old days. She had looked around at each of their faces, letting the feeling soak in.
As Delilah unpacked, lighthearted, nonsensical talk floated around the room. The scene was familiar and warm, bringing her a twinge of homesickness for the past.
So many times during their years of medical training the group had gathered exactly like this. That was back when they were all sharing a shabby old two-bedroom apartment, back before Glory married Alan, before they had all gone their separate ways to practice medicine.
Delilah looked back on those days as the most secure of her life. She hadn't been chosen a member of the group; she had more or less forced herself upon them. But they had accepted her. More than that, each in his own way had pulled her in and made her a part of his or her life.
She let her gaze linger on each of them in turn. Athos, Porthos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, and Moe.
That's what they had called themselves back then. They were an unlikely quintet, but somehow it worked, she thought, acknowledging their differences while giving thanks for the fate that had brought them all together back there in the beginning.
First there was Arnold Schlumburger, Booger to his friends. Even his name made her want to laugh. Booger, with his semi-psychotic sense of humor, was a genius. He was also the most loving person Delilah knew. He was a man who made secret sacrifices in order to boost the sagging ego of a friend in need. His brain and his humor had helped Delilah survive the ruthless years of medical training.
With his intelligence Booger could have gone into any field of medicine he chose, and he chose to practice family medicine as his father and grandfather had before him. Somehow, for Booger, it seemed right. After his residency in Dallas, Booger had gone home to Kansas to accept a partnership in his father's practice.
Next came Addie, a top-notch pediatrician. Addie was practical and prosaic and tough as an old boot on the outside. But on the inside she was as soft and vulnerable as a newborn kitten. Addie, the original California beach bunny, had surprised them all by joining Booger and Dr. Schlumburger in Kansas.
And then there was Jack. Mr. Moto seemed always to be preening. It was an integral part of his personality. The first things a stranger noticed about Jack were his straight black hair and the sexy eyes that were a gift of his Oriental heritage. But after a few minutes in his presence everything was overlooked in favor of his most outstanding characteristic: his giant ego. Jack was totally and happily self-absorbed—until one of his friends needed help. Then he became D'Artagnan and truly believed it was all for one and one for all. Jack was now a surgeon on staff at a prestigious Chicago hospital.
And last was Gloria Wainwright Spencer. Glory was more than Delilah's best friend. She was Delilah's heroine. Glory was what Delilah would give anything to be like. The younger woman had been loved and protected all her life, not only by her wealthy father, but by everyone who met her. However, that wasn't the part Delilah envied—at least not much. What Delilah envied most about Glory was her strength of character. She hadn't allowed her pampered background to weaken her. She fought for what she knew was right. Glory had great integrity and refused to compromise it. Glory and Delilah were internists and had both stayed in Dallas to practice medicine. Glory at a teaching hospital, Delilah in private practice.
Delilah cared very much for each member of the group, but she would never tell them so. And she wouldn't let them know how desperately she had missed them in the years they had been apart. She had built an image for herself that didn't allow for sentimentality. The group expected her to be sophisticated, reserved, and fearless, and Delilah saw no reason to change that.
"Okay," Jack said, grabbing Delilah's arm to pull her down to the bed. "Tell me why some man hasn't lassoed you by now."
Delilah smiled carefully. "It's not all that difficult to understand," she said, keeping her voice casual. "I happen to have exacting standards, uncompromising standards. I want a man who is intelligent, personable, and who happens to be very, very wealthy. Is that too much to ask?"
They all laughed just as she had intended them to. "I told you all a long time ago that I became a doctor only so I could make lots of money," she said matter-of-factly, "and because as a doctor I would be thrown into the company of wealthy men, which meant I would stand a good chance of marrying a man who also makes a lot of money."
Glory gave an inelegant snort. "Yes, that's what you told us, and that may be why you got into medicine initially, but it's not why you stayed with it. I've seen you with patients, remember? I would give my eye teeth to be even half as good a diagnostician as you are."
Delilah ignored her. "I've managed to stake a claim for myself in Dallas, but you all know what it's like for new doctors. Does anyone want to talk about the cost of malpractice insurance?" For a second every face looked grim. "A doctor's income simply isn't as secure as it used to be. Which is why I'm looking for someone who has a healthy practice already established. And to be perfectly frank, I can't afford to waste any more time."
As Delilah glanced around at her friends, she realized they couldn't possibly understand what was driving her. They were too secure, too normal to comprehend the desperation behind her decision. They couldn't know that the reason she so much envied Glory's integrity was that Delilah couldn't afford that particular luxury.
"It was when I saw that a nonmedical man wouldn't work that I changed my mind about coming to the conference several days early like the rest of you. It's time for me to get serious."
She paused, letting her gaze pass over each of them in turn, letting the suspense build until they were all looking at her expectantly.
"At this conference I'm hunting," she said slowly, then smiled. "At this conference, my friends, I'm going to bag me a man."
The silence in the room became electrified, and looking at her friends' stunned faces, Delilah had trouble maintaining her usual Madonna smile.
After a few moments Booger cleared his throat noisily and rose to his feet. "For a friend, I'm prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice." He took Delilah's hand, then dropped to one knee. "Marry me, Delilah. Come with me to Kansas. Be the mother of my warped little children—twelve or thirteen would be nice. I'm not rich yet, but I'm my father's only heir. Dad will love you ... we can swear he's senile, stick him in a nursing home, and—"
"Booger!"
"Okay, okay. We'll kill him. Then we can live the good life until they catch us. What do you say?"
Arching one brow, Delilah stared down at him for a long moment. "It sounds interesting, not to mention macabre, but in a word, no."
"Okay," he said agreeably. "On to Plan Two. Someone help me up." When he was on his feet again, he glanced around at the others. "I propose—"
Addie snorted loudly. "You propose too damn much. You propose to waitresses who refill your coffee cup and to women who buy chocolate-covered doughnuts and to anyone, no matter what their gender, who is wearing jogging shorts."
"As I was saying," Booger continued, pointedly ignoring the interruption, "I propose that we help Dee find a husband by having a scavenger hunt."
Now, as she heard the echoes of that conversation, Delilah was doubly glad she hadn't let Bill know what she and her friends were involved in, hadn't let him know that she was on a cold-blooded husband-hunt. She didn't want Bill in her life, not her real life. It wasn't the place for a man like him.
She had made her plan and she would stick to it, come hell or high water. She would marry a man who could give her the security she so desperately craved; a man who wanted an intelligent, personable wife; a man who didn't expect or want the impossible from her; a man who didn't need her love. Because that was something she would never give away again.
Straightening her back in determination, she walked into the bedroom she was sharing with Addie and stood for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
"Delilah?" The light between the beds snapped on. Addie, squinting from the bright light and looking vulnerable without her thick glasses, moved her head, trying to locate her roommate. "I wondered if you were coming back tonight," she said to the cheval mirror.
"I guess I lost track of time. Is it late?" Delilah glanced at her watch and whistled in surprise. It was after three. "Where did the night go?"
Addie, guided by Delilah's voice, was now able to locate her general position. "Yeah, where?" she grumbled. "We expected to see you at dinner."
"Bill took me to a little restaurant down the beach. Then, as you know, we stayed on the beach . . . talking. I hope no one missed me."
"Booger did." Addie sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her sleeping attire consisted solely of a T-shirt with i don't do mornings printed on the front. "That's why he insisted on tracking you down so you could check out the man we found."
Delilah paused in taking off her clothes and glanced up. There was a strange tone in Addie's voice. "What's up?"
Addie leaned back against the padded headboard. "Dee, I need to talk to you."
Delilah took off her skirt and walked to the closet. "So talk."
"It's just—" Addie broke off and hit the mattress with both fists. "Dammit, you have men falling all over you . . . like that adorable Bill you were with tonight. You don't have to do anything, you don't even have to say a word. You simply walk into a room and they all start drooling. How can I do that? Short of plastic surgery, I mean."
"Don't be silly. You're very attractive."
Addie grimaced. "You're a friend. You have to say things like that."
"Bill said you were adorable, remember?"
Addie smiled. "He did, didn't he? But Bill's different. I think he would make any woman feel attractive."
Delilah frowned. Maybe Addie was right. Maybe she had run into one of those men who had a natural talent for making any woman he came in contact with feel special, feel as though she were the only woman in the world. That would explain what Delilah had felt tonight. What she still felt, she corrected herself silently.
Glancing up, she cleared her throat. There was no need to tell Addie her conclusions. "Bill wasn't pretending. He really thought you were cute. Everyone does."
"Cute," Addie repeated in disgust. "Cartoons are cute. Dogs are cute. Even some bugs are cute. I don't want to be cute. I want to be sexy as all get-out. I want men to lust after me, Dee."
"Cute was obviously a poor choice of words," Delilah said dryly.
"How about sexy?"
"Sexy is a subjective thing, Addie. I'm not qualified to judge that. Attractive certainly. Everyone thinks you're attractive."
"Not Booger."
Delilah was stunned. All the yearning in the world seemed to be in those two words. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You're in love with Booger?"
"I thought you knew. Glory does."
"Glory is extremely perceptive, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. I think that was left out of my original equipment," Delilah added with a shrug.
"I've been in love with him forever. Why do you think I gave up California? I mean, do I really look like a Kansas sort of person? People wear socks in Kansas. I traded beaches and 'anything goes' for tornadoes and 'quaint.' I don't fit in, but I can fake it if it means being with Booger. I had to do some really wild manipulating to persuade Dr. Schlumburger to take me into his practice along with his son."
"Hasn't working together brought you closer?"
"Sure." Addie's voice was heavy with dejection. "We're as close as any two buddies can be. He simply refuses to see me as a woman." Her lips trembled as she met Delilah's gaze. "What am I going to do, Dee?"
Delilah glanced away from the desperation in Addie's myopic eyes. "This is Glory's territory, not mine," she said gruffly. "She's the one who gives aid and comfort to people with problems."
