2. Prescription For Love

“But I didn’t,” Abby whispered. She was no fairytale princess, there was no prince in the guise of a drop-dead-gorgeous surgeon coming to save her when she didn’t need saving, and the only fairytale ending she needed was a nice stable life with no drama and a secure future for her and her son. And if her body thought otherwise, there were logical reasons for that. She was, after all, living breathing flesh, and she knew very well where desire came from: the pulse of blood, the rush of hormones, the burst of pheromones that ignited neural pathways. All perfectly rational and explainable. No reason to attach any extreme significance to that kiss. Okay, those kisses, plural. Now that she’d had time to slow down, take a metaphorical breath, she was simply aware of sensations she hadn’t had time to acknowledge before. And other than that, life went on just as it had before. Still the same responsibilities, the same obligations, the same plan to fulfill. And right now, that plan included taking care of her son and getting her butt—her naked butt—to work.

Instantly, she saw herself naked in Flann’s arms, and after seeing Flann’s bare legs more than once, she had no trouble imagining the rest of her unclothed. The pounding between her thighs jumped into overdrive. For a millisecond she contemplated sliding back under the sheets and finishing the fantasy with her hand between her thighs.

Wonderful. Now she’d regressed to the age of fourteen. When exactly had she lost all control of her senses?

Resolutely, she gathered up the crumpled scrubs and prayed the bathroom was nearby. A shower would make all the difference. At this point, she’d even try a cold shower and see if the old adage was true. Spending the rest of the day in a state of unrequited arousal was not her idea of fun. She halted at the end of the bed and took in the small wicker basket someone had placed just inside the door with a neat stack of scrubs and an array of toiletries. She opened the folded note atop the pile.

Bathroom is across the hall on your right. I thought you could use these. Talk to you later, Pres.

“I’m going to kiss you for this.” Abby quickly pulled on the old scrubs, picked up the basket, and dashed across the hall to the bathroom. The doors up and down the hall were closed and she couldn’t help wondering if Flann slept behind one of them. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she saw Flann and Carrie wrapped up together. The image prompted a mental snarl, and she twisted the shower dial hard enough to send a blast of water splashing onto the tiles outside the enclosure. She yanked off the old scrubs, pushed them into a clothes hamper in the corner, and stepped under the spray.

After the first few minutes with her arms braced on the wall and hot water beating a tattoo on her back, she started to think rationally again. She’d sent Flann on her way, not that she’d really had any choice. They couldn’t very well have sex in Presley’s house with half the hospital plus Flann’s parents and her son in attendance! That was beside the point anyhow—she didn’t want to have sex with Flann. Okay, she did, but not in the real world. Just in the little slice of fantasy world that had bled over into hers when she wasn’t looking. Flann and Carrie were a much better match—hell, Flann had practically described Carrie when she’d said what she was looking for in a woman. Bright, beautiful, sexy, and not ready to settle down. If Flann had pulled her Prince Charming routine on Carrie, all the better.

Yes. Better for everyone.

Abby resolved to put the whole issue of who had slept where out of her mind. After a long sumptuous shower, she dressed, toweled her hair dry, slipped into the clogs Flann had lent her what felt like a year ago, and headed downstairs.

Carrie sat alone at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. Abby hesitated at the doorway, that morning’s kiss suddenly looming large. If Carrie and Flann had something going on, the last thing she wanted to do was get in the middle. She not only liked Carrie, but Carrie was Presley’s good friend. Now she was even happier she’d sent Flann away. “Morning.”

“More or less.” Carrie grinned. “Hot coffee, biscuits on the counter, and ham in that covered dish next to them.”

“There is a fairy godmother,” Abby muttered, her hunger making itself known with a vengeance.

She poured coffee, grabbed a biscuit and several slices of ham, and sat down across from Carrie.

“Mrs. Rivers?”

Carrie shook her head. “Lila. Presley’s housekeeper. She was here a few hours ago, apparently.” “I forgot she cooks too.”

Carrie grinned. “That’s an understatement. I’m really gonna miss that when I move out.”

“I can’t believe the wedding is in just a few weeks.”

“And we’ve still got a lot of planning to do.” Carrie’s eyes brightened.

“Whatever you need me to do, just let me know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be plenty busy.”

Abby finished the biscuit and ham and got up for a coffee refill. “More coffee?”

Carrie handed her the cup. “Thanks.”