Mother Knows Best Read online

  "I can't move," he said as she headed toward the solarium. "They won't let go."

  She turned and saw her nieces unabashedly clutching his kneecaps and beaming up at him in girlish admiration. "Kath! Jenny! Leave the nice man alone."

  They upped the wattage on their baby-toothed smiles and Diana swooped them -- and the cereal box -- up into her arms, grunting at their combined weight.

  "I think they like me," Gregory Stewart said, tugging at one of Jenny's golden curls.

  "They like all men," Diana said, heading once again toward the solarium. "They're incorrigible flirts." They also had splendid taste; Dr. Stewart was easily the most glorious male it had ever been Diana's pleasure to behold. Where some men's sex appeal was restrained, hidden behind a three-piece suit, Gregory's sex appeal was unabashed. His blue-green eyes flashed with it; his perfect white teeth gleamed with it; his muscular body rippled with it. He was "man" in capital letters and Diana would be the first to say, "Vive la difference."

  She stopped at the entry to the solarium and inclined her head toward King Boris in his chrome and brass castle. "Your patient awaits," she said, then turned to leave.

  "You're not staying?"

  "Far be it from me to come between a man and his stethoscope."

  "What if I need help restraining Boris?"

  She grinned at him over her shoulder. "Call 911. I'm sure Boris won't mind."

  His rumbling baritone laugh followed her all the way to the kitchen. "Not bad, girls," she murmured as she sat them down on the shiny tiled floor. "Not bad at all."

  If only it were Labor Day and she was fifteen pounds lighter, two shades blonder and officially ready to embark on her great husband hunt. Doctor Stewart would have more than the twins to worry about....

  #

  Of course, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Boris the Bad -- at least nothing that a little attention wouldn't cure. After listening to the bird's heartbeat and asking him to open his beak and say "Ah," Gregory checked the condition of the cage, the food, the water and pronounced the mynah hale and hearty and destined to live to be a hundred.

  "You miss Laurence, don't you?" he asked, chucking the bird under the chin and laughing as he dodged a jab from a pointed beak. "That's what all this is about, isn't it?"

  "Mine not to question why," said Boris, hopping to the far end of his cage. "Mine but to do or die."

  "Not while I'm your doctor, pal." Gregory put his stethoscope back in his bag and snapped it shut.

  "Thank you," said Boris as Gregory turned to leave. "Y'all come back now, hear?"

  No one was in the huge entry foyer or the living room or the dining room but Gregory caught the sounds of laughter from somewhere in the rear of the house and he followed the trail of Cornflakes to the sun-filled kitchen where he found Diana Travis.

  The two little girls sat near the back door eating cereal. Diana was bent low over them, her blonde curls glittering in the morning sunlight. Her skin was smooth and tinted a pale apricot -- cheeks, arms, the long lithe expanse of leg bared by her shorts, all of it the same delicate shade. It wasn't hard to imagine that she was the same glorious apricot all over, juicy and ripe and --

  Married.

  Keep that in mind, Stewart. This woman looks as married as you can get.

  Those two little girls of hers weren't the product of Central Casting and he'd be doing himself a favor if he kept reminding himself of that fact. She leaned over to retrieve a plastic spoon and her top rode up, revealing the inward curve of her waist. He wished he were standing near the back door because he had the feeling the view from that angle would be even more intriguing. She had the kind of body that women's magazines hated -- and men dreamed about. Ripe. Touchable.

  An exciting combination of curves and possibilities that were --

  Married.

  Right.

  #

  "Ms. Travis?" He stepped into the room, feeling large and male and decidedly out-of-place.

  Diana turned quickly and looked at him, her hazel eyes wide with anxiety. "How bad is it?"

  "Not bad at all. Poor old guy's beak is out of joint."

  "He's looking for attention?"

  "Exactly. With Laurence roaming around the world and strangers coming in and out, Boris is voicing his displeasure."

  "Rather forcefully, I'd say."

  "Mynahs aren't known for shyness."

  "Where on earth did he learn terms like cardiac infarction?"

  "Have you ever met Laurence?" She shook her head.

  "Laurence McClellan is a first class worrier. Rumor has it he's claimed everything from dysentery to beriberi to a four alarm heart attack."

  "Is there anything wrong with him?"

  "Not a thing. He and Boris are both hale and healthy and hypochondriacal."

  "So I don't have to administer CPR to Boris?"

  "Just feed him and talk to him. That's all it takes."

  "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's administering TLC." She gestured toward the corpulent Abyssinian stretching in the sunshine near the door. "See what I mean?"

  "Afraid so. What would you say to a medically-supervised feline diet?"

  "I'd say it's between you and Ignatius. I have my own avoirdupois to contend with."

  There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by the sound of the two little girls crunching dry Cornflakes and sprinkling the crumbs on top of the cat. He wanted to say she looked pretty damn good to him but knew it would sound like the worst kind of come-on since hubba-hubba. Besides, there was his hard and fast rule about married women. Diana shifted from foot to foot then broke the silence.

  "Thanks for coming by so early. Even TV repairmen don't make house calls these days. Your kind is a dying breed."

  He offered a mock salute. "It's part of the job, ma'am."

  "How much do I owe you?"

  "Nothing. Larry keeps me on retainer. His office will pay me."

  "Lots of luck, Dr. Stewart," she said. "Mr. McClellan doesn't seem to be in the greatest shape financially."

  He glanced around the empty room. "There's no furniture in here."

  "You just noticed? There's also no furniture in the solarium, the living room, the dining room, and all points east, west, and north."

  "You rented an empty mansion?"

  "This was a surprise development."

  "You're a good sport."

  "You're the second person to say that. I'm beginning to wonder if I should be more upset."

  "What does your husband have to say about it?"

  "Not much, I wouldn't imagine. He's too busy getting ready to marry his pre-pubescent bride."

  Despite himself, Gregory's eyes widened. "Did I miss something?"

  "We're divorced," she said, taking the cereal box away from the little girls. "He's giving up his hard-won freedom on Independence Day."

  "He has a sense of humor."

  "Not so I ever noticed."

  "Your daughters look just like you."

  That impish grin of hers reappeared. "Their mother won't appreciate that. My sister thinks they're her clones."

  "I'm getting extremely confused." Not to mention hopeful.

  "I'm babysitting," she said, pouring cereal into one of the Fraggle Rock cups on the counter top. "Paula and Art ended up in Monte Carlo instead of the Hamptons. I inherited their vacation and their daughters for the month."

  He whistled low. "Gull Cottage for a month. Not too shabby, even without furniture."

  "I don't want to keep you from your breakfast, Doctor. Your wife must be waiting for you."

  "No wife."

  "Divorced?"

  "Never married." She looked surprised and he laughed. "Heterosexual," he said. "Irredeemably, I might add."

  "How wonderful for you," she murmured, pouring cereal into a Sesame Street soup bowl.

  "Now and then, it has been." He'd spent a lot of energy a few years ago proving to himself that he was as hale, hearty, and healthy as everyone else believed.

&
nbsp; She met his eyes and couldn't hold back her answering smile. "No girlfriend waiting up for you with fresh coffee and croissants?"

  "No girlfriend."

  "I don't suppose you'd like to stay for Cornflakes."

  "Am I invited?"

  "Yes, but -- "

  "Thanks," he said, reaching for a Fraggle Rock cup and a plastic spoon. "Don't mind if I do."

  Chapter Six

  "You're kidding." The words were out before Diana could stop them. "You really will stay for breakfast?"

  His blue-green eyes narrowed. "You're rescinding the offer?"

  "No, nothing like that. I just didn't expect you to say yes." She gestured toward the bowl of Cornflakes on the counter top. "This isn't exactly gourmet fare I'm offering you."

  "I'm easy to please."

  "Why is it I doubt that? You strike me as the Eggs Benedict type." "Where'd you get that idea?"

  "The Corvette. The expensive watch. The Ralph Lauren shirt." The fact that you have privileged written all over your gorgeous face....

  "Don't hold the shirt against me. It was a birthday present from a friend who thought I should dress more 'East End.'"

  She glanced down at her own cut-offs and faded tank top. "Like me?" she asked with a rueful grin.

  His gaze travelled slowly up her body, warming her calves and knees, lingering on her thighs, then gliding over hips and breasts until he met her eyes. It was a wonder she didn't spontaneously combust.

  "Like you," he said, his voice lazy and sexually-charged. "You look good to me."

  The man was amazing. For a moment she felt positively beautiful. "I doubt if the Ralph Lauren set would agree with you."

  "Public opinion means that much to you?"

  She poured cereal into his cup and hers then took the milk out of the almost-bare refrigerator. "Actually I live for public opinion."

  "What are you, a politician?"

  "No." She took a deep breath. "I'm Mother."

  "I thought these kids were your sister's."

  "They are. I mean, I'm Mother Knows Best."

  "I thought Mother was a sixty year old lady with grey hair and sensible shoes."

  "Thanks a lot. We were aiming for warm and maternal."

  He took another assessing look at her. "You don't exactly look like the happy homemaker type."

  "Everyone thinks I look like someone's wife or sister or mother. It was inevitable that I turned it into a profession."

  "You didn't exactly have a handle on things yesterday when you came looking for a bathroom."

  She thought about her chocolate-stained sundress, the baby wipes she'd sent him out for, and the missing red sneaker. "That wasn't me yesterday. I'm basically an organized, competent person."

  He arched a brow.

  "I'll have you know I'm a wizard with window cleaner and a magician with a Handi-Wipe."

  "I'm having trouble believing this," he said, spooning up some cereal. "I saw you on TV a few years ago. You had grey hair and glasses."

  "That was my mother. Mother was the first Mother Knows Best. She specialized in writing columns about my father's military approach to housekeeping."

  "Didn't she go on Carson once and recommend keeping an egg timer on the bathroom sink?"

  "We won't go into that," said Diana, remembering the tooth-brushing speed drills the General had been so fond of. "My parents both believed in a place for everything and everything in its place -- as fast as humanly possible." Quickly she explained how her mother had handed Mother Knows Best over to her struggling daughter to fulfill the last months of the syndication contract only to have Diana turn it into a full-blown phenomenon practically overnight.

  The gorgeous Dr. Stewart swallowed his Cornflakes. "You give sexual advice, don't you?"

  Her cheeks warmed. "Only in the nicest way."

  "Last week you recommended lighting candles in the bedroom."

  "Strictly to cut down on power costs."And, the better to see you with, Dr. Wonderful....

  "What about the perfume on the light bulbs?"

  "More efficient than room freshener." L'Air du Temps, strategically placed on her each of her pounding pulse points for him to discover one by one by one....

  "You're a practical woman."

  "I believe in prioritizing."

  "I hate words like prioritize."

  "You're extraordinarily opinionated for a man who makes house calls on mynah birds."

  "Are you always this touchy? Talking to you is like sitting on a cactus."

  She considered him for a moment then threw caution to the winds. "You weren't exactly the most hospitable of hosts yesterday evening."

  "I brought you the baby wipes, didn't I?"

  "You seemed annoyed."

  "I was annoyed. You had me blocked in the driveway."

  "I moved, didn't I?"

  "Took you long enough. I thought I'd have to call for a tow truck to get you out of there." He grinned broadly. "Where's the egg timer when you really need it?"

  "In my overnight bag. Mother aims to please."

  "I know. I read your column on fifty ways to lure a lover."

  "Now I know why so many writers hide behind pseudonyms. Maybe I should have tackled a gardening column."

  "And waste your natural resources?"

  "If that's a polite way of telling me I'm fat -- "

  "Fat?" He looked genuinely puzzled. "You look great."

  "Great is a size six."

  "You're not one of those bean sprouts and strained yogurt types, are you?"

  "I wouldn't be a size ten if I were, Doctor."

  "Gregory."

  Was she crazy or did she hear the faint, but highly exciting, sound of a Scottish burr way back there in his throat? A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Diana."

  "Boris has a habit of bringing people together."

  "I promise to keep it to a minimum."

  "McClellan wouldn't like it if Boris's needs were neglected."

  "Then I'll be a slave to his every whim." She glanced down at her hand which was still held firmly in his. Delightful it was, but growing awkward. "As a matter of fact, I should begin by learning where the local bird seed store is located."

  He noted her glance and released her hand. "Not a problem."

  She reached for her notebook propped up near the stove. "Can you also show me a supermarket, a video store, a bank and a post office?"

  He snapped his fingers. "Nothing to it."

  Her heart fluttered foolishly, as if this were something more than a mild flirtation as practiced by a man who was obviously an expert in the art. This proved just how out of touch with life she'd become, buried under Mother's ample skirts, writing about freezer burn and ring around the collar.

  "I come as a package deal," she said, gesturing toward the girls who were covered in cornflakes and milk.

  "I realize that."

  "I only have two hours to shop."

  "I'll take what I can get." He put a sexual twist on his words that had her wondering whether to call the vice squad or just save time and surrender. She watched as he quickly drew a map and handed it to her. "Meet me at the animal hospital in an hour and a half."

  "You don't have to do this, Gregory," she demurred.

  He took a step toward her. "I made myself a promise a few years ago not to do anything I don't want to do. I haven't broken it yet." There was a flash of menace hidden in that movie-star gorgeous face. "If you want my help, say so."

  Say no, her common sense warned. Get out while you still can. She was there for work, not romance. She wasn't ready for romance. She wouldn't be ready for romance until her Labor Day starting date. "Ten o'clock," she said, after a moment. "The animal hospital."

  "Good," he said, heading toward the door.

  "Crazy," she said, locking it behind him.

  "No fool like an old fool," called out Boris from the solarium.

  And, at the moment, Diana was in full agreement.

  #

 
It was chaos as usual back at the East End Animal Hospital. Dave and Peggy's baby had once again decided to stay put and Dave, wide-awake and anxious, was running some blood work in the lab. Daisy also had yet to deliver and she thumped her tail lazily as Gregory raced into the office after leaving Gull Cottage.

  "You look lousy," said Mary Ann Marino as he bent down to stroke Daisy behind the ear. "Bad night at Black Rock?"

  "Emergency call from our friend Boris." He nodded his thanks as she handed him a cup of steaming black coffee.

  "What was it this time: heart attack or an aching back?"

  "Cardiac infarction."

  Mary Ann rubbed her hands together in mock glee. "The old boy's getting inventive. I like that."

  "Damn bird has a better medical vocabulary than I have."

  "I'm surprised McClellan fell for Boris's malarkey again."

  "McClellan's out of town, remember? Gull Cottage is being rented."

  "Ms. Piper, wasn't it, and all those wonderful show business types?"

  "The show business types are gone."

  Mary Ann arched a brow. "Boris made the call himself?"

  "You are one nosy woman, Marino."

  She sat atop her desk, looking for all the world like a starstruck adolescent. "I won't make a scene -- you can trust me. Who is it? Which movie star hottie rented the place?"

  "A woman, two kids and a cat."

  "Where's her husband?"

  "Doesn't have one."

  "Single mother and she can afford a month at Club Paradise? I'd like to compare child support checks with her."

  "They're not her kids. Her brother-in-law rented the place and she's here to work."

  Mary Ann narrowed her eyes and pretended to concentrate. "Don't tell me -- let me guess. She's tall, blonde and beautiful and you've appointed yourself her guardian/protector."

  "She's blonde. She's small, and the rest is none of your business."

  Her blue eyes, so like her son's in expression, twinkled and Gregory ruffled her curly red bangs.

  "I'm going to shave and change my shirt," he said. "Hold down the fort."

  Mary Ann muttered something unprintable and, laughing, he heading for his office in the back.

  It didn't take long to change into a clean shirt and pants or to comb his unruly black hair. He ran a hand along the underside of his jaw and felt the quill-like bristles of a day's growth of beard. Unless he wanted to look like a Don Johnson also-ran, he'd better do something about that so he headed back into the tiny office bathroom and pulled a straight razor and shaving cream from the medicine cabinet over the sink then set to work. She's not your type, he thought as he maneuvered the blade along the angle of his jaw.