Jacqueline Diamond - Prescription: Marry Her Immediately

“Thanks.”

After he rang off, Quent was glad to see the rain slackening. It was growing dark, turning from daytime into Saturday night. After years of overwork, he loved to party, and rarely got the chance. Now where had he put that flier?

He dug through a handful of papers on the passenger seat. There was a staff memo from Dr. Fingger about the Thanksgiving holiday schedule, filled with exhortations not to be late or ask for changes. The guy really needed to loosen up.

Beneath it lay a reminder about the annual pre-Christmas soiree hosted by the Doctors Circle administrator, Patrick Barr, which this year was going to double as his wedding reception. It made sense to Quent that the guy was getting maximum bang for the buck.

Here it was! He pulled out the flier he’d been handed by Rob Sentinel, a new obstetrician at the clinic. Rob was hosting a bring-your-own bottle party tonight, promising loud music, lousy food and nowhere near enough chairs. Perfect!

It would be more fun if Amy could go, but he suspected she’d be busy settling in at her aunt’s. Well, the two of them weren’t joined at the hip.

After the grind of medical school, Quent had sworn to take it easy when he got the chance. He’d had less time for fun than he expected during his residencies, and now he seized every opportunity to blow off steam.

He put the SUV into gear and headed to a convenience store. He’d better pick up some taco chips and spray cheese in case Rob ran short. It wasn’t fair to let one guy shoulder the whole work of staging a party by himself.

Amy was almost asleep when the cell phone rang on her bedside table. Thinking it might be one of her clients, she shook off her daze as she grabbed it. “Amy Ravenna,” she said.

“Quentin Ladd,” came the response. He sounded utterly mellow. The background noise of conversation and music gave her a clue why.

Amy checked the clock. Nearly midnight. “You went to that party of Rob Sentinel’s, didn’t you?” She tried to quell a spurt of jealousy that came from knowing plenty of single nurses must be present.

“Bingo,” he said.

“And you’ve had a few beers.”

“Two,” he said. “I never have more than two.” He made a point of never drinking to excess.

“Is something wrong?” she asked sleepily, and hoped the ringing phone hadn’t disturbed her aunt Mary or seventeen-year-old cousin Kitty, who’d both gone to bed an hour ago.

“Yes,” Quent said. “You’re not here.”

Warmth seeped through Amy. “I thought of going, but Aunt Mary and I were figuring out what to fix for Thanksgiving.” It was only a few days away.

“Throw on some clothes and come join me.”

She’d rather he took off his clothes and joined her. Uh-oh. She hadn’t said that aloud, had she? “I’d better not,” Amy said. “I’m tired and it’s raining.”

“It’s stopped. Besides, we have some unfinished business.” His tone wasn’t exactly suggestive, and he certainly wasn’t applying pressure. It was more of an open invitation, leaving the decision to her.

Amy knew how she had to respond. “It’s best left unfinished.”

“We’ll see.” A couple of short breaths revealed that he was yawning.

“You’re tired,” she said. “Go home.”

“I needed somebody to tell me that,” Quent admitted. “I hope I’m not getting too old to party hearty anymore.”

“You’re nearly thirty.”

“Ouch!”

“A little maturity will look good on you,” she said.

“That’s encouraging.” In the background, someone turned up the volume. Nearly shouting, Quent added, “That could damage my hearing!”

“You’re definitely too old for that scene,” Amy said. “Go put on your tasseled nightcap and heat a water bottle for your tootsies. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Count on it,” he said.

After ringing off, Amy couldn’t resist picturing what might have happened if she’d accepted his invitation. They’d have ended up alone at his apartment, stroking each other, kissing, sinking onto the couch with no one to interfere and no inconvenient tree to collapse on top of them….

She pushed the image away and picked up a psychology journal from the bedside table. It was half an hour before her eyes drifted shut again.

SHOES. Who knew they could be such a problem?

Amy’s size must have been wildly popular, because on Sunday her favorite department store was out of stock in all the pumps that appealed to her.

She didn’t blame Quent. She hadn’t mentioned packing her shoes, although heaven knew what the guy had been thinking.

Uh, wait. She did know. He’d been thinking about their hot-and-heavy madness on the couch. What else was a twenty-something guy supposed to think about?

Not to mention a thirty-something woman.

Amy tried not to survey the men as she raced down the mall to a specialty shoe store. She didn’t want to compare their butts—unfavorably—to Quent’s, or to notice how their hair lacked the wild springiness of his.

She was not going to view him as a sex object. He was her buddy and her respected colleague. And way too eager to make love to the woman of the world he assumed her to be.

If only they had met in an alternate reality where mindless fun carried no consequences, they could indulge themselves and go right on being friends and coworkers. If that were true, her images from last night would already have become a sizzling reality.

Giving herself a mental slap, Amy entered the store and picked out several pairs of pumps. At last, she found a pair that fit and finished paying barely in time to meet her two closest friends for their appointment at the bridal shop.

Natalie Winford, a blond divorcée with a wicked sense of humor, was getting married in two weeks to the administrator of Doctors Circle. A pediatrician who’d left his practice to work full-time as director, Patrick was the son of the clinic’s late founder.

Natalie, his longtime secretary, had nursed her secret love for years until the two of them got carried away one night after a party to raise money for the center’s Endowment Fund. Now here she was, due to deliver a baby next May and deliriously happy after discovering that Patrick had been secretly in love with her, too.

Several weeks earlier, the attendants had picked out their turquoise bridesmaids’ gowns along with matching hats. The problem, once again, was the shoes.

“I’m sorry,” the store proprietor said, holding up a pair of emerald pumps. “They came out the wrong color. I called you as soon as I saw them.”

“Dye another batch,” Natalie said promptly.

“The company we use is backlogged, and so is everyone else,” the woman said. “I’m terribly sorry. I’ve called all over Orange and Los Angeles counties and I haven’t had any luck.”

“We could wear white shoes,” suggested their friend Heather Rourke, an obstetrician who was on two months’ leave for personal reasons. “Or would we be stepping on the bride’s toes?”

“If that was an intentional pun, I’m going to stick you with a diaper pin,” Amy said.

Heather laughed. “I don’t think they make diaper pins anymore. Everything’s got Velcro or tape.”

“You should know.”

“Just call me Diaper Lady!”

The beautiful redhead had recently admitted to her two closest friends, after swearing them to secrecy, that she’d given up a baby for adoption while in her teens. Following the deaths of the adoptive parents, her daughter Olive had contacted her, and they’d become close. Then Olive became pregnant.

Heather had taken leave to coach her daughter through childbirth while Olive’s fiancé served overseas in the marines. Now the new mother and baby Ginger were staying with Grandma, which seemed to Amy an absurd title for such a young-looking thirty-six-year-old. No one else at the center knew anything about the situation, and Heather, who prized her privacy, intended to keep it that way.

“I wish my sister hadn’t had to work today so you could all pick out your shoes,” Natalie said. “We’re getting awfully close to the wedding.”

“Candy doesn’t have to wear the same shoes we do,” Heather pointed out. “She’s the maid of honor.”

“I don’t see why any of our shoes have to match,” Amy said. “Who’s going to notice? We’ll look weird enough as it is, wearing turquoise at the reception. I assume the Barr mansion will be decked out in red and green as usual.”

Every year, Patrick hosted the Doctors Circle staff and supporters at a holiday party the first week in December. Since he and Natalie had become engaged at the end of October, they’d had such a short time to prepare that they’d decided to let the annual event do double duty.

“I thought about having a Christmas-themed wedding,” Nat admitted. “But red is too far out and I couldn’t stick you guys with bright green dresses.”

“Thanks, more than you’ll ever know,” Amy said.

She couldn’t imagine how brides kept track of all the details and conventions, anyway. If she ever got married, she’d have to elope, because otherwise she would make a whole series of embarrassing faux pas.

“I’m glad you picked turquoise and silver,” Heather said. “The church will be beautiful.”

“Silver! That’s it!” Although Amy had the fashion sense of a sea slug, she knew she’d hit on something this time. “Last year at Patrick’s Christmas reception, there were silver bows on the staircase. If we wear silver shoes, they’ll work at the wedding and the reception.”

“Silver would be lovely,” Natalie agreed.

“I don’t suppose you have any silver shoes on hand, do you?” Heather asked the proprietor.

“I’m afraid not.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon traipsing around the mall, and found two attractive styles of silver sandals that would look fine side by side. Heather’s had a higher heel, which evened things up a bit, since she was five inches shorter than Amy.

“Candy can pick up a pair next week,” Natalie said. “Hooray! We’re done!”

A few minutes later, the bride waved farewell, since she’d parked near a different exit than her friends. As Heather and Amy sauntered in the opposite direction, Heather said, “Now that we’ve got a moment alone, I’d like to ask a favor.”

“Is it baby-sitting? I don’t have much experience, but I’d be glad to give it a try.” Amy had been fascinated by the babies she’d seen through the nursery window en route to talk to Quent on Friday.

“Thanks, but it’s not baby-sitting,” Heather said. “It’s about the Moms in Training program.”

Both women volunteered at a program for pregnant teenagers. Amy offered counseling and collected donations from the community to help the young women. Heather gave advice about healthy pregnancies. In private conversations with some of the girls, she had also confided about her own experiences as an unwed mother and how adoption had helped her get her life on track.

“What can I do?” Amy asked.

“I’d like a pediatrician to come discuss child development. The director asked me to try to set something up for next Saturday. It’s Thanksgiving weekend, but most of the girls want to meet anyway.” Heather tore herself away from the shop window. “I’d also like you both to talk a little about child discipline.”

“Great idea,” Amy said. “I’d be glad to help.”

They were passing her favorite video-game store, and she couldn’t resist eyeing the display. Half hidden in one corner was a copy of Global Oofstinker, a goofy game about a cartoon skunk trying to take over the world.