Date With Dr. Frankenstein Read online

  Moving in a slinky gait that had every male salivating, Daphne walked over to Andie and air-kissed her. “It was nice of you to include me. These neighborhood gatherings are so charming. I’m glad I wasn’t booked tonight.” With the sure instinct of a predator scenting its prey, Daphne looked beyond Andie and gave a delicate shimmy of pleasure that drew attention to her assets. “Please do introduce me to the gorgeous man behind you.”

  Andie stole a glance at Eli. He was looking, but he wasn’t instantly besotted. Give him time. She made the introductions and gestured toward the food. “Eli just bought the house beside me. I bet he would love to hear some of your decorating ideas. Why don’t you two get your food—”

  “Where’s Fletch?” Eli asked, looking around the yard.

  Daphne raised a dark eyebrow. “Fletch?”

  Andie felt the slightest tinge of nervousness. Daphne wasn’t known for her way with children. “Fletch is Eli’s son,” Andie explained. “He’s over there by the hot dogs. Isn’t he adorable? Look, why don’t I look after him and make sure he gets some food while you two eat?” she asked, and made to leave.

  Eli stopped her by encircling her wrist with his hand. “You don’t have to.”

  Oh, yes, I do. His thumb skimmed over the sensitive spot where her pulse skipped at an alarming rate. “It’s no problem. I like him.” She pulled her hand away at the same time that she saw Daphne wrap her hand around Eli’s arm. Andie felt a different twinge, but ignored it. “Enjoy yourself.”

  She walked toward Fletch and nearly brushed her hands together at the done deal. Some things never changed. The sun rose in the east, rivers ran to the ocean, and Daphne Sinclair seduced men.

  Samantha joined her and shook her head. “You’re shameless. She’ll have her claw marks on his bedpost within a week.”

  “Better she than me.” Andie waved Fletch toward her.

  “I don’t know if this is going to work, Andie. Eli’s still watching you.”

  Andie resisted the urge to look around. “He’s watching Fletch, not me.”

  Sam smiled. “Denial is a powerful psychological tool. I only have one question. This is the first time I’ve actually seen Daphne in the flesh.” She lowered her voice. “Are they real?”

  Andie just laughed.

  Two hours later, the barbecue broke up. As Andie tossed paper plates in the trash, Eli appeared at her side. “Thanks for inviting us. You’ll have to let me take you out for dinner in return,” he murmured in a low voice that skimmed over her skin.

  “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that,” she told him and felt his gaze measuring her. “Did Daphne have any suggestions for your house?”

  “She made some suggestions,” Eli said dryly.

  “I hear she’s very talented.”

  Eli gave a noncommittal shrug. “Possibly. She reminds me of my ex-wife.”

  Andie stopped midmovement and met Eli’s gaze. She saw masculine cynicism in his green eyes and struggled with an urge to soothe.

  Fletch walked toward Eli and leaned against his leg. “My stomach hurts,” he announced forlornly.

  Eli glanced down at his son. “Too much ice cream, maybe?” he muttered and brushed his hand over Fletch’s hair. Hauling the boy up into his arms, he sighed. “Bedtime for you. Thanks again, Andie.”

  Her heart caught at the sight of them, and something twisted at the way he said her name. Feeling a sinking sensation, Andie hoped she hadn’t cause Eli any pain. “I—uh—” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry about Daphne. I didn’t know she would—”

  Eli’s lips twisted bitterly. “No big deal. She reminds me of a lot of women. Big on beauty, short on logic. Somewhere down the line, I end up out of luck.” He nodded briefly. “‘Night.”

  * * *

  “Get some sleep, Fletch.”

  Fletch sighed and nodded. He watched as his dad paused at the door and said, “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Okay. G’night, Dad.” His dad closed the door and Fletch heard his footsteps on the steps. Wide-awake, Fletch stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. As it often did when Dad turned out the light at night, his mind began to spin and reel. He thought about clocks and numbers.

  Tonight his stomach interfered with his usual thoughts. It felt really full, like it was going to burst. Dad had told him it wouldn’t, though. Fletch flipped over on his stomach, hoping that would make it stop hurting. He lifted his hand and touched the soft hair of his stuffed llama. His mother had brought it back from one of her trips. His stomach hurt worse when he thought about his mom.

  He missed her.

  She was pretty and she smelled nice. He remembered that she had smiled at him a lot. She used to touch his hair when she put him to bed. Just like the way Andie stroked his hair and talked with him, he thought. It made him feel good inside to play in her yard with Stud.

  But at night after the light was out and he was too tired to think about numbers, he thought about his mom and his stomach and head would hurt. Sometimes he cried.

  Fletch squished his eyes shut and tried to swallow past the big, hard lump in his throat. He wrapped his arm around the llama and wished he could call his dad. He was afraid to call him. He was afraid Dad would find out the truth about his mom and not like him anymore. Then Fletch wouldn’t have anybody and he would be lonely all the time.

  His nose was running, so he sniffed. His eyes felt hot like they always did right before he cried. Fletch rubbed them hard, then hugged the llama and tried to think about clocks.

  * * *

  “Okay, okay. I feel guilty,” Andie confessed when Samantha wouldn’t let up. Folding some dollar bills into her pocket-sized purse for a girls’ night out, she stole a glance out her window. She wasn’t really in the mood to go to a bar tonight.

  Leaning back in the blue wing-back recliner, Samantha rolled her eyes. “He’s a big boy, a Viking in a past life, for Pete’s sake. He can take care of himself. Although I’m sure Daphne will do her best to wear him out for a while.”

  Andie shot Samantha a reproving glance. “His wife recently died.”

  Samantha shrugged. “Ex-wife. He probably hated her guts.”

  “Your compassion astounds me.”

  Samantha sat up, whipping the recliner into the closed position. “You’re stalling. We’ve got to meet Donna and Yvette. You know how cranky they get when we’re late.” She craned her neck to look out the window. “What are you staring at?”

  “Nothing.” Andie felt Sam’s skeptical glance. “Sometimes he goes running about this time.”

  Samantha shook her head in disapproval and stood. “It’s definitely time to get you out of the house.”

  Andie twisted the strap of her purse. “You know, I’m a little tired....”

  Samantha shook her head again, more vehemently this time. “What are you going to do? Stay home and do needlepoint?”

  Andie should have known Sam wouldn’t let her back out. “I don’t do needlepoint. And what’s so wrong about enjoying my home? I work hard. If I want to relax here, who’s to say I should be doing something else?”

  “I’m to say. You’d cloister yourself like a nun if you could. Since Paul—”

  “This has nothing to do with Paul,” Andie cut in, although there were still times when she felt like licking her wounds. “I just don’t like bars that much. I don’t like the kind of men I meet at them.”

  Samantha nodded sagely, then extended her hand and pulled Andie to her feet. “All men are jerks. They’re only good for one thing. You can’t trust them as far as you can throw them.”

  Andie’s lips twitched as Sam dragged her to the front door. “You sound like Yvette.” The older woman had recently gone through a difficult divorce, but was determined to keep her social life alive.

  “That’s right. And if Yvette can brave the prospect of close encounters with the opposite sex, then you can, too.”

  Andie opened her mouth to correct Sam’s convoluted logic. “But—” Sh
e stopped herself just before she plowed into her friend.

  Samantha stood in the doorway, shaking her head. “My, my, my,” she exclaimed.

  Andie followed the direction of Samantha’s gaze. Her stomach gave a strange twist. She watched Eli walk toward Daphne Sinclair’s house. Even from this distance, she could see the purposefulness in his long stride. The waning evening sunlight glinted off his hair. His broad shoulders outlined by a stark white shirt, he lifted his wrist to glance at his watch. He was probably concerned about being late, she thought and felt another twist.

  Daphne would ply him with food and soft music. Andie’s imagination took the scenario a couple steps further. Daphne would learn what pleased him, and she would be the recipient of all the passion Andie sensed was brewing just beneath Eli’s surface.

  The image of Eli’s eyes, full of male need, his naked body aroused, made her skin hot. An ache, secret and insistent, began to build deep inside her. She swore under her breath. Brushing her hair back from her face, she took a mind-clearing breath. Her plan had worked. She should feel triumphant, relieved at the very least. She felt neither. Andie realized she should have known better. She wasn’t a schemer. She had neither the heart nor the knack for it.

  “Looks like Daphne didn’t waste any time,” Samantha said with a broad grin.

  For some reason, Andie didn’t share her friend’s amusement. “Looks like Eli overcame the fact that she reminds him of his ex-wife,” she managed dryly.

  Sam made a tsking sound. “Don’t be too hard on Daphne. She’s got a lot to make up for.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Sam got that mysterious knowing glint in her eyes. “Daphne was once a nun.”

  * * *

  Eli slowed to a jog as he noticed his red-haired neighbor bent over the open hood of her car. Dressed in loose-fitting pants and top and white nurse’s shoes, she was obviously headed for work. Or, at least trying to go to work, he amended. He didn’t get much closer before he heard her swearing at the machinery. The feminists would probably kill him for thinking it, but Andie Reynolds was damn cute when she was mad. “You have the nerve to call yourself transportation. A horse would be more reliable,” she grumbled.

  “The feed and vet bills would be too high,” Eli pointed out.

  Andie jerked her head up, and the color instantly rose to her cheeks. For the moment she just looked at him, clearly torn between frustration and embarrassment. Her gaze swished over him from head to toe, making him return the favor and wish that someone would redesign nursing attire. It was a crying shame her legs were covered by loose pants.

  Her color intensified and she blinked, fixing her gaze somewhere around his chin. “I was having a private conversation with my vehicle,” she explained as if it were the most rational thing in the world to do.

  Eli’s mouth twitched. “And what does it have to say?”

  Andie shook her head. “It made a rude noise when I first tried to start it. Now it just clicks.”

  Eli frowned. “Mind if I take a look?”

  Andie shrugged. “Feel free. I think it’s ready for the great junkyard in the sky.” She looked at him curiously. “What do genetic engineers know about ten-year-old Ford Mustangs?”

  “Most probably don’t know much,” he said, checking the fluids and the battery. He checked her oil and shook his head. Talk about thick sludge. “How long has it been since you changed your oil?”

  “A while,” Andie hedged. “How do you know so much about cars?”

  Eli glanced up. “My father required my two brothers and I to learn automobile mechanics. We were...” He hesitated, and eliminated the words that had been used to describe him—genius, gifted, major egghead and, once or twice a very long time ago, geek. “Academically inclined. Dad said all the book knowledge in the world wouldn’t help us if we were stranded on some highway with a broken car. So every Saturday morning, he dragged us down to the service station he owned and made us learn about cars.” Eli chuckled, remembering the mess they used to make. “My middle brother resented it, so he takes it out on the cars he owns now. He probably changes his oil about as often as you do.”

  “I resist getting maintenance done on my car,” Andie confessed. “It’s not rational or responsible, and I usually end up regretting it, but I hate going to the service station and putting up with the mechanics calling me ‘little lady’.”

  Eli nodded thoughtfully. “Would you rather they call you ‘big woman’?”

  “No,” she told him and laughed past her disapproval. “My name would be just fine.”

  “I haven’t thought about it much, but I guess women have to put up with a lot in male-dominated service areas,” he said and slid behind the wheel of her car. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his longer legs. “Men get their hassles in other areas.”

  She stood beside the open door. “Like when?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Enforcing visitation rights.” Eli was certain the reason he was having such a tough time with Fletch now was that his ex-wife had constantly dodged his efforts to spend time with his son. Glancing up, he saw Andie’s face shadowed with sympathy. That annoyed him. He didn’t want sympathy from her. He turned his attention to the ignition and heard the same clicking noise she’d described.

  His gaze caught on a small square sign hanging from her rearview mirror. It was the kind of sign many drivers displayed in their rear windows. Eli suspected she’d purchased it for her own enjoyment instead of sending a message to the world. He wondered what that meant. “Nurses do it with care,” he read aloud, and studied Andie. “My mind is filled with...questions.”

  “Which will remain unanswered. What do you think is wrong with my car?”

  Eli sighed and got out of the car. “Either the starter or the alternator. I can get the parts tonight. Depending on how much Fletch wants to help, and I use the word in its loosest form, I can fix it tomorrow morning. If you’ll give me a minute to get my keys, I can take you to the hospital now.”

  Andie blinked. “N-no. I don’t expect you to fix it,” she said, sounding appalled at the notion. “I just thought you were looking at it to tell me if it could be fixed.” She slammed the car door and ran a hand through her auburn hair. “And you certainly don’t have to take me to work. I can call—”

  “Why?” Eli cut in.

  Disconcerted, she shook her head. “Well, you probably have plans tonight, and—”

  “I don’t.”

  Her warm brown eyes widened. She hesitated, tilting her head to one side. “It’s an imposition for you to—”

  Impatience flared. “It’s not.” He studied her, trying to understand her reaction. “You have a problem. I can solve it.”

  She watched him silently for a full moment, and Eli felt the hum between them start up again. “Just like that?” she asked, a faint smile tilting her lips. “I have a problem. You can solve it, so you will.”

  It was eminently logical to him. “Yes.”

  Eli was oddly loath to leave her at the moment. He sensed her approval and for once, she wasn’t trying to bolt away from him. His car, however, was not going to magically appear. Eli cleared his throat. “I’ll get the keys and pick you up in a minute,” he told her and jogged away.

  Andie stared after him. She’d never met anyone quite like Eli before. He obviously possessed a formidable intelligence and appeared impatient with social protocol, yet he was deeply concerned about his son and was determined to be a good neighbor to Andie.

  Neighbor. That little light feeling inside her chest dulled. She’d do well to remember that Eli’s interest in her was just neighborly. She’d do well to forget how those running shorts had emphasized powerful thighs and the bulge of his masculinity. If she had any sense at all, she would pretend she hadn’t noticed the way his broad shoulders stretched that old T-shirt and wondered what it would be like to be held by him.

  By the time Eli had pulled his sporty sedan into her driveway, Andie had reined i
n her thoughts. She opened the door and slid into the seat before he had a chance to get out. His proximity made something inside her tighten. “This is very nice of you, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to fix my car.”

  “I don’t feel obligated,” he said in a tone that rang with finality. “Since I’m new to Cary, you’ll need to give me directions.”

  Andie did, and for the next few minutes, Eli drove quietly. She looked out the window, focusing on the coming night’s work.

  “Is this what time you usually go to work?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “I was going in a little early, because it’s my baby’s birthday. He’ll be—”

  Eli jerked to glance at her, then quickly looked back at the road. “Your baby!” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you had a child.”

  Andie laughed. “No, no, no. I work in the pediatric intensive care unit, and we tend to get a little possessive with our patients. When I say ‘my baby,’ I mean my patient.”

  “Oh,” he said, still sounding slightly confused. “So you’re in PICU.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Sounds tough. Working with seriously ill children all the time.”

  “It can be,” she agreed. “I like it because there’s a lot more one-on-one care. We have a small unit, so I have time to give my kids—” she smiled and corrected herself “—my patients the attention they need.”

  “Do you always work night shift?”

  “Most of the time. I like it,” she confessed. “At night it’s quiet. I feel like I have a little more control over my own responsibilities.” Andie thought about the time last year when she’d considered quitting so her schedule would mesh better with Paul’s. She stiffened her spine. “Since I’m single, my time is my own. It’s not as if it interferes with family life.”

  Eli silently digested that. “And this baby with the birthday,” he said. “What’s his problem?”