Starting with a Kiss. Barbara McMahon

probably a very tired, familiar story. I thought there was more to a relationship than a certain man thought.”

      “Jeb Stuart.”

      Abby caught her breath. Greg was too sharp. “I didn’t mention any names.”

      “I could feel the tension between the two of you at the banquet. And I have eyes. The woman he was with was a knockout. Hence the change of style on your part, I suspect.”

      “Which did nothing but make me look like an idiot.”

      “I don’t know. I liked the dress.”

      Abby doggedly continued, “I wanted a change, but obviously I don’t have a clue about how to do it.”

      “Do it?”

      She blinked and frowned. “Make the change.” Heat flooded at the echo of his words. Suddenly she wondered what it would be like to do it with Greg Hastings. What would it be like to kiss him, have those surgeon’s hands touch her intimately? Have his mouth cover her with passion? Pushing away the image, she frowned. Even fantasy had its limits, and this was one in which she dared not indulge. How would she ever face him at the hospital if she spent her free time daydreaming about the two of them together, intimately entwined?

      It was warm in the apartment. She rose and walked to the window to crack it open a bit.

      Intimate images refused to be dispelled, and began to dance in her mind again. Suddenly she envisioned him pursuing a reluctant female until she was totally captivated—just as Rose predicted.

      “I guess I don’t understand why you want a change. You’re never going to look like that woman with Jeb last week. If that’s his type, you don’t have a chance.”

      “I heard you have a reputation for blunt speaking. Thanks for offering hope.”

      “False hope does no one any good. Are you hung up on Jeb Stuart?”

      “Of course not! But I’m not exactly flooded with invitations for dates, either.” She took a deep breath, deciding she knew where this was leading. “Don’t worry that you’ll be coerced into taking me to the ball. I’ll find someone by then!”

      She closed her eyes. Had she really told him all that?

      “You make it sound like a quest, or a challenge. I bet I could get you lined up with someone with no trouble.”

      “Great, another setup. I didn’t like Dr. Taylor’s solution, so I don’t want yours. I have to go. Please forget we had this conversation.”

      She hung up the phone and headed for the bedroom. Even if he called back, she’d refuse to pick up. She’d had enough—and revealed far too much!

      Only Carol had known why she felt uncertain around men. She’d been the only one to whom Abby had given the full details of her fiasco with Terry Bolton. She couldn’t seem to shake the lasting anxiety in her own femininity that debacle had engendered. Well, not anxiety precisely. More distrust. Uncertainty. She didn’t trust her own instincts anymore.

      Getting ready for bed, she thought about Jeb. She’d misread that situation, obviously. But they’d been friends for so long. And when Carol died, they’d seem to become even closer. Nothing had ever been said, so when had she begun to assume they’d get married one day?

      By Saturday, Abby’s curiosity about Greg’s sister’s boutique had grown. Dressing casually in dark brown slacks and a cream blouse, she decided to spend the morning just browsing. For a few minutes she debated enlisting Kim’s help, but decided against it. Somehow the dress Kim had talked her into hadn’t been the success she’d hoped for.

      She could hear the echo of Jeb’s scathing comment.

      Then she remembered what Greg had said. Maybe it hadn’t been totally bad.

      It was early when she reached Maiden Lane. None of the trendy shops were yet opened. Passing time by gazing into the windows, Abby questioned what she was doing. Just because some arrogant man had suggested she try the boutique wasn’t any real reason to do so. If she had her way, Dr. Greg Hastings would never know whether she had taken his advice or not. So why was she here?

      The shop she stood in front of opened its doors. She checked her watch and headed back down the short street to the boutique. Finding it now open, she entered and was immediately impressed with its understated elegance. The place was larger than it looked from the small storefront, displaying suits, dresses and evening wear with loving care. To the right, frothy undergarments denoted the small lingerie section.

      There were none of the tightly jammed racks she was used to in department stores. Here and there a few special dresses hung for ease in viewing, with mannequins displaying choice items.

      Abby found herself gazing at a long, sultry slip dress in midnight-blue that whispered sex appeal. That’s what she’d like to wear. But would it look as good on her as the mannequin?

      Jeb’s words echoed once again.

      “Hello, may I help you?” A tall, slender woman appeared from the back. Her friendly smile relaxed Abby instantly.

      “I’m just looking, thanks,” she said, stepping to the rack nearest her. The silky feel of the blouses delighted her senses.

      “Took my advice, I see.” The masculine voice surprised her. She looked up—into Greg Hastings’s amused eyes.

      “What are you doing here?” Abby asked, surprised to see him. She almost groaned aloud. So much for keeping her activities secret.

      “I took Pam to breakfast. I dropped her off here and was ready to leave when I heard you.”

      Embarrassed to be caught, Abby nodded stiffly. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to see what she had.”

      “A friend of yours, Greg?” the other woman asked.

      “Dr. Abby Trent, meet my sister, Pam Schuler.”

      “Ah, how do you do, Dr. Trent?” Pam smiled, glancing at her brother.

      Abby knew he’d said something to his sister about her and wished she could just spin around and dash away. But that would be bad manners and she already had enough on her plate with Dr. Hastings.

      “You have a lovely place,” Abby said, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Why wouldn’t the man just leave?

      “Thank you. Anything special in mind?” Pam asked genially.

      “No. Just browsing.”

      “Get her a few things for evening and all. And something for the ball, don’t forget,” Greg said irrepressibly.

      “I can choose my own clothes, Dr. Hastings!”

      “Mmm.” His gaze roamed over her from the open neck of her blouse to the tip of her toes.

      Abby raised her chin and turned away. “I think I’ll come back another time.”

      “No, don’t go,” Pam said. Turning to her brother, she frowned at him. “Thanks for breakfast. Now if you don’t want to ruin my business, take yourself away!”

      “I’m not ruining anything.”

      “Go!”

      “Maybe Dr. Trent would like me to stay.”

      Abby met his dancing eyes. “I don’t care what you do, I have other errands.” She turned as if to head for the door, feeling as foolish as a ten-year-old caught out spying on her older sister.

      “Greg!” Pam said sharply.

      “Okay, I’m going. This is the thanks I get for treating you to breakfast?”

      “Next time you can drop me at the door. Goodbye!” Pam said, glaring at him.

      “Dr. Trent, don’t let Greg’s teasing drive you away. I’d love for you to look around and see if