Married in Haste. Roz Fox Denny

of me here slaving away.”

      The open phone line hummed following Abby’s statement. “Oh, if you need me to water your plants, Ben, I can easily swing past your apartment after work.”

      “I botched this call from the get-go, Abby. I want you to come with me. I happened to see the school calendar taped to Marlo’s fridge. My week off coincides with your spring break.”

      Abby’s skin prickled with excitement. What Ben was proposing would boost their relationship to a new level. Thus far, they’d gone to dinner, movies, concerts and an occasional school function together. In that time, Ben had spent one night at her town house and she’d slept at his apartment twice. Up to now, neither had suggested going beyond catch-as-catch-can dating. They tended to go out on the spur of the moment—if and when their busy schedules allowed. Which was why his invitation for a weeklong tryst silenced Abby’s tongue.

      “Abby? You’re not responding. Am I off base in assuming that we’re seeing each other exclusively? If so, please tell me straight out.”

      “You’re not. Off base,” she said quickly, her heart tripping madly. She quickly thumbed through her desk calendar. “Yikes! Spring break is next week. I’ve been too busy to notice, I guess. No wonder the kids are bouncing off the walls.”

      “I’ll understand if you’ve already made other plans. The clinic wasn’t something I could walk away from without a lot of finagling and appointment switching. I knew asking you this late was a long shot. And I’d like to leave Friday afternoon.”

      “Four days,” she muttered, minor panic building as she worried about finding time to dig her skis out of storage, not to mention dashing past the mall to stock up on a few necessities—like a sexy nightie and silky undies. Hers tended to be a hodgepodge of much-washed white cotton.

      “To be exact, it’s three days, twenty-two hours and fifty-four minutes from now. Jeez, I didn’t mean—uh, don’t think I was counting the minutes until I can get you into my bed,” Ben said. “Well, that, too,” he added, laughing. “What I meant, though, is that’s how long I have left to deal with all my outstanding cases.”

      “I knew what you meant. You said the other day you haven’t had a real vacation since you and Steve opened the clinic. Ben,” Abby murmured, “are you positive you want me horning in on your days off?”

      “Oh, yeah!” This time there was no mistaking the implication in his seductive growl.

      Abby pictured the two of them living together for seven whole days. And nights! Thirty-two-year-old, Benjamin Galloway, M.D., was the sort of man mothers the world over prayed their daughters would bring home for keeps. At six foot two, he honed his muscles with a daily jog. His light-brown hair, naturally streaked gold, was perpetually wind-tossed. Not only was he easy on the eyes, Ben was good to the bone. Intelligent. And articulate. He laughed easily, too. He genuinely liked people, especially kids.

      For most of Abby’s twenty-eight years, she’d watched his type gravitate to her prettier, sexier girlfriends. Abby suffered no illusions about her too red hair and the freckles that went with it. In high school she’d been drab. Abby supposed that if her good friends were asked to describe her, they might note her above-average intellect. Or perhaps they’d mention that she kept a cool head in a crisis.

      Big whoop! as her second graders would say. Given her meager dating history, the fact that a guy like Ben Galloway would invite her on a romantic getaway made Abby worry that he’d wake up tomorrow with second thoughts. “If you do change your mind or anything, Ben, you’ll let me know?” she blurted.

      He laughed. “I won’t change my mind. Can you be ready Friday by five-thirty? I’ll pick you up at your place. We can grab dinner somewhere between here and the Canadian border if that’s all right.”

      “Sure. It sounds fantastic. Uh…is there any chance of your coming over for dinner tomorrow night? My offer of a home-cooked meal stands.”

      “Tempting as it sounds, Abby, I can’t. I’m up to my eyeballs in dictation. As usual, I’ve put off completing paperwork far too long. The hospital records staff and my secretary are at the point of leaving death threats with my answering service. If I work my tail off all week, I might actually get to go with a clear conscience.”

      “Maybe I’ll do up lesson plans in advance,” she said. “In case I break my neck on the slopes. You do recall that I haven’t skied in more than two years?”

      “Ditto,” Ben teased. “Last time I skied was before we opened the clinic three years ago. Or is it four? Man…let’s hope we don’t both fall. One of us has to drive home. Or maybe not,” he added in that earlier suggestive tone. “Picture us stranded in a mountain chalet. The place I rented has a hot tub.”

      Abby fanned herself with a test packet. “Now, that’s something to consider. Careful, Ben, I may shove you off a cliff and leap after you—if only to ensure that we get stranded.”

      His delighted laughter was interrupted by an insistent bleat. “Oops, gotta go. That’s my pager. See you Friday. G’bye.”

      “I hope your page is nothing serious. I’m looking forward to spring break. I’d hate for anything to interfere.”

      “Nothing will, short of flood, famine or pestilence. Well, scratch pestilence. In my line of work that’s a marked possibility. Damn! Whoever has my pager number isn’t giving up. See you Friday, babe.”

      “Okay. Bye, Ben.” Abby gripped the receiver tight even after she heard the soft click. Ben’s calling her babe was new, too. Lordy, lordy—he was definitely turning up the flame. In spite of her shiver of anticipation, Abby was bothered by one teensy detail she hadn’t brought up to him.

      The Reverend Elliot Drummond.

      Abby’s older brother posed an obstacle for two reasons. In past years, during spring break, she’d always baby-sat for him and his wife, Blair. She’d started the annual treat as a way to repay Elliot for the numerous sacrifices he’d made after their parents died. Their folks had been volunteer counselors with a youth outing in the San Juan Islands when a sudden, violent squall struck the Strait of Juan de Fuca and capsized their rented canoe. All the canoeists were lost.

      Abby never thought of that period in her life without profound sorrow. Especially as the months before the accident had been nearly perfect. Her parents had left their mission in Calcutta. John had accepted a church in West Seattle, where his wife had grown up. Elliot had just left for Oxford on a Fulbright scholarship. The whole family was proud of him. And for the first time ever, Abby would attend regular middle school. She’d been elated at the prospect. As the daughter of missionaries, she’d always felt rootless.

      Bless Elliot. He’d given up his scholarship, returned home and gone to work at a grocery store to keep Abby out of foster care. Those had been tough years. Instead of making lasting friends, Abby was shut out by kids at school who blamed her parents for the disaster. As if they could control the weather.

      Elliot’s unswerving faith got Abby through. He attended college at night, and made her study hard as well. As a result, she earned a scholarship to Washington State University, where she earned a teaching degree. Teaching allowed her to make a difference in young lives. In Abby’s classes, every child counted.

      Considering everything Elliot had sacrificed for her, baby-sitting seemed a small repayment. Especially since he’d delayed his marriage to his childhood sweetheart because of his responsibilities to Abby.

      She broke into a grin. Once Elliot and Blair did marry, they set to work repopulating the Drummond clan with five boys. Two sets of twins and an only. It wasn’t hard to see that Blair needed a break from being a stay-at-home mom.

      But who was Abby kidding? This uncomfortable feeling wasn’t only a matter of not being available to baby-sit her brother’s kids. Quite simply, Elliot would disapprove of her going with a man. And Elliot liked Ben well enough. Her brother would never condone sex outside of marriage; the who wouldn’t matter. In Elliot’s mind, Abby