By Mutual Consent Page 3

  “So,” Rob said, his thick eyebrows raised in challenge. “I overheard someone saying that she’s your date. Aren’t you going to at least introduce me to her?”

  Joss nearly choked on her shrimp. “My…date? Introduce you?”

  “Okay, look. Obviously she’s taken. And doesn’t play for my team. But I’ve absolutely got to meet the woman who can wrap Pritchard the Prick around her little finger like a ribbon. And you, for that matter.”

  “Whoa now, hold on a second. Where did you ever get the idea that—”

  “C’mon, let’s go. Pritchard’s just been hauled away by his wife.”

  Rob tugged her toward the red-haired beauty, who settled a dazzling smile on them that all but sparkled. It was almost hypnotic and it embraced them, as though she’d been waiting just for them. The effect it had on Joss nearly made her knees buckle.

  “Joss, hi,” the woman said sweetly, touching Joss’s arm as though she’d done it a thousand times before. When she stood on tiptoe to peck Joss’s cheek, a ripple of dizziness washed through Joss. “I’m sorry I was a little late getting here.”

  “Oh…I…ah…” What?

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman directed her attention to Rob and the loss of it to Joss was as jarring as a spotlight being turned off. “How do you do? I’m Sarah Young. I’m Joss’s…” Blue eyes darted to Joss, then back to Rob. “Friend.”

  “I’m well, thank you. I’m Rob Spalding. A colleague of Joss’s both here at the school and the hospital.”

  “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Rob. Can I prevail upon you to find me a glass of champagne so I can have Joss all to myself for a moment?”

  “You most certainly can.” He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But first. What in hell did you ever say to Pritchard to light him up like a Christmas tree?”

  “You mean that nice elderly gentleman? I just wished him a happy birthday and told him he didn’t look a day past fifty.” Her smile turned sheepish, and she batted her eyes with eyelashes so long and thick, they reminded Joss of Tennessee Indiangrass. “And there might have been something to the effect that if he’d been my doctor, I would have kept finding reasons to visit him.”

  Rob laughed and nudged Joss’s shoulder. “I think you need to bring Sarah around this place more often. I can give her a long list of people to charm.”

  Joss felt dumb, unable to produce a witty response. Or any response, for that matter. Coming up with small talk was a chore for her. Torture, really. Her social awkwardness was what had propelled her toward books and schoolwork from such a young age, because she could immerse herself for hours and not have to speak to anyone.

  “Oh, right,” Rob said. “The champagne.” He winked at Joss, as though he wanted to say more but didn’t dare. “Excuse me.”

  “Certainly. Thank you,” Sarah said, lightly resting her hand on Joss’s forearm again, instantly imprinting Joss’s skin with a warm tingle. “I really am sorry I was a few minutes late. I can assure you, I don’t make a habit of it. My car wouldn’t start, except I kept trying, and I think I wore down the battery. I finally took a cab.”

  Joss had the disorienting feeling that she’d been thrust on stage without a script in the middle of a play. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Was I expecting you?” And who the hell are you, Miss Sarah Young? She’d speak if she could, but those soft sky-blue eyes made it nearly impossible to form full sentences. Or to ask questions that didn’t make her sound like a third grader.

  “Our arrangement today,” Sarah continued, her smile faltering briefly, her face paling a shade to reveal faint freckles. “You…Oh, no. Your mother didn’t tell you about it, did she?”

  Her jaw quickly turning to cement, Joss tried to keep her voice level. “I see. My mother put you up to this. I sincerely apologize for her actions. She was misguided in whatever arrangement she made with you.”

  “Actually, your mother and my stepmother made the arrangement. I’m just following instructions to be your escort at today’s birthday celebration for Dr. Pritchard.”

  Heat shot to Joss’s face and a few choice curses stormed through her mind. “Well, that’s just perfect.” She’d been clear with her mother about this crazy idea, and yet Madeline had defied her. And made a fool of her. Annoyance threatened to flare into full-blown anger.

  “Why don’t we try to make the best of the situation?” Sarah suggested coolly, her eyes as inviting as a swimming pool on a hot summer day. It was damned tempting to dive in. “Start over again?”

  Joss couldn’t seem to open her mouth. Which was just as well, because she was still pissed off at her mother and feared that if she did try to speak right now, she’d sound like a horrible daughter—all petulant and self-absorbed.

  Sarah’s smile somehow maintained its charm and warmth. It made Joss want to say yes. To anything. “What do you say, Dr. McNab?”

  The longer Sarah’s gaze stayed on her, the more Joss melted from the inside out. This woman, she thought with puzzled admiration, knew exactly how to win people over. She still chafed a little, but already her anger toward her mother was beginning to fizzle. “All right. I’m Joss McNab. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sarah Young. And please, call me Joss.”

  “Thank you, Joss, and the pleasure is all mine.” She snaked her hand possessively through Joss’s arm as Stan Chalmers and his wife approached. “And to the public, we’re friends, right? Or is it special friends?” She lifted her eyebrows in mild flirtation, making Joss’s heart skip a beat. Transitory mild tachycardia brought on by sudden stress, Joss decided, the self-diagnosis giving her momentary comfort. And a steadying distraction, because she did not—ever!—fall for women who came along batting their eyelashes and flashing million-dollar smiles.

  “Joss, my dear, you’re looking handsome as always.” Stan’s wife Elizabeth kissed both her cheeks, European style. Stan shook her hand warmly before the couple turned expectantly to Sarah.

  “I’d like you to meet my, er, friend, Sarah Young.”

  Joss watched them smile warmly and shake hands with Sarah. How strange it felt that these people now assumed Sarah was her girlfriend. She’d never been closeted, not even when she was a medical student, and for the past three years she had sat on the medical school’s LGBT MD committee. But she’d never before brought a date to a work function. And while it felt foreign to be presenting herself as part of a couple, it mildly surprised her that it didn’t actually feel all that bad. The truth was, having Sarah by her side made her stand a little easier. Especially when Stan and Elizabeth Chalmers began engaging Sarah in animated conversation about everything from the Titans to last week’s symphony concert to the upcoming political election. Joss let Sarah do the talking while she tuned out and let her mind wander to the valvular stenosis she’d diagnosed late yesterday in a fifty-seven-year-old patient.

  “Your champagne, madam.” Rob handed Sarah a glass, then handed one to Joss. He finished with a little bow to Sarah, an elegant show of respect Joss had never seen him make before. She’d been skeptical until now that her friend was at all familiar with formal manners.

  “Well, I’m very impressed,” Elizabeth Chalmers whispered to Joss after a cluster of others had joined their little group.

  “Excuse me?”

  “With your date, Sarah. She’s a lovely young woman. I’ll make sure to include her on our Christmas guest list.”

  “Um, I…You don’t have to do that.” Surely, Joss thought, this little charade was a one-off that would be a distant memory by Christmas.

  “Oh, don’t be so modest. I was just saying to Stan last week that you need to find yourself a nice lady friend.” She squeezed Joss’s forearm. “And it seems you have. I’m so glad.”

  The reception flew by, Joss’s self-imposed deadline of leaving after the first hour having long expired. Nearly three hours later, the crowd having thinned, she took Sarah’s elbow so they could take their leave.

  “I think we should
talk about today’s little arrangement,” Joss whispered. “It’s either that, or I’m of a mind to string up my mama by the toes.”

  Sarah laughed. “I don’t think stringing up your mother is a viable option. But talking certainly is. We could go somewhere for dinner?”

  Joss glanced at her watch. It was five o’clock. A bit early for dinner, and besides, she wasn’t hungry after munching her way through the buffet table. “How about coffee?” She’d had two glasses of champagne and didn’t need any more alcohol.

  “Coffee it is. I know a great little café not far from here.”

  “The Mixed Bean, by chance?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Best coffee anywhere near campus.”

  “You work on campus?”

  “I teach two freshmen classes for the faculty of art.”

  Damn, Joss thought. She’d have remembered if she’d ever seen Sarah around campus, although the medical school and the art department were at opposite ends. “I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before.”

  “I’m not. Art and medicine aren’t exactly bedfellows around here.”

  “True.” The med school was extremely insulated. It wasn’t that it was the sun with everything else revolving around it, but rather that it was alone in its own galaxy.

  They set out on foot in the direction of the café, the late afternoon warm and breezy, and Joss realized the day had gone much better than she’d expected. She’d been dreading attending Pritchard’s birthday reception. She didn’t think anything would trump that unpleasantness until she’d discovered her mother’s manipulations. But now as they passed a handful of people on the leafy sidewalk, Joss felt an unfamiliar tickle in her belly and a buoyancy to her mood that she could only attribute to the presence of the woman beside her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she caught herself nearly smiling as she held open the door of the café for Sarah.

  Oh, this was so not good. Because nothing this good, this easy, ever was, in her experience. She could only compare herself to an animal that had walked into some kind of trap, not yet realizing the severity of its situation.

  Oh, Mama, what did you do!

  Chapter Four

  As they took their seats in the café, Sarah watched Joss’s face harden to a deep scowl in a matter of seconds.

  “I’m sorry my mother’s devious plan wasted your time today. I’ll certainly compensate you for it, and I can assure you this won’t happen again.”

  The rapidity with which Joss had turned cool and distant surprised Sarah. She had been a little stiff at the birthday reception, a tad detached and somewhat impatient, like she didn’t want to be there. She had had the good manners to be polite about it, however, and had even found a modicum of humor about it. Sarah couldn’t really blame Joss for being less than pleased about the afternoon; clearly she wasn’t a fan of Dr. Pritchard and, worse, she had been caught off guard by Madeline and Linda’s machinations. Sarah expected that Joss was very much the type who did not suffer fools gladly and abhorred being publicly embarrassed.

  But there was no reason now for her frostiness, unless perhaps she was still feeling embarrassed by Sarah’s ambush at the party. Sarah had taken satisfaction in the easy way they’d managed to camouflage Joss’s surprise and discomfort, with Sarah smoothly working the room and Joss following along as though they were an actual couple making the social rounds. Things had gone as well as they could. Hadn’t they?

  Joss stood. “I’ll go place our order. What can I get you?”

  “Cappuccino, please.”

  Joss’s long strides to the counter appeared hurried, impatient, angry. Sarah could see that the arranged date was continuing to rattle her, though if she were to be honest about it (she wouldn’t!), the whole thing was actually kind of amusing. No harm had been done, and their little performance at the birthday event gratified Sarah because they’d pulled it off as if they’d rehearsed it a dozen times. Or as if it wasn’t a performance at all.

  Moments later, cradling her cappuccino on the table in front of her, Sarah considered how to be delicate with her words. “When I was in high school, my dad went behind my back and arranged for the son of one of his law partners to take me to my prom. I didn’t realize what he’d done until the end of the date, when neither of us was interested in making out.” Sarah smiled at the memory of her and Tom Whitfield sitting in his car, both of them embarrassed, both of them not wanting to admit the truth at first. “Turns out we were both gay, and our dads had set us up.”

  Joss’s answering smile fell short of the mark. “I don’t need my mother setting up dates for me. And this isn’t high school. These are my colleagues. This is my profession, and my mother had no right to do what she did. To either of us.”

  Was it really that bad? As far as Sarah could see there was nothing to be embarrassed about, because nobody else needed to know the truth. But clearly Joss was in no mood to be mollified. “Okay, look. Let’s figure this out together.”

  Joss had closed up tighter than a furled flag, and it wouldn’t have surprised Sarah if she bolted right now, good Southern manners or no. But instead, her fingers slowly relaxed their grip on her cup of black coffee, and she leaned back in her chair. It was a good sign that she seemed willing to hear Sarah out.

  “First, let’s get something straight,” Sarah said. “You don’t really have a problem getting your own dates, right? I mean, if anyone has left a blazing trail of broken hearts behind them, it’s probably you.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d made a tactical mistake. That square, handsome jaw of Joss’s clamped down so hard, the ropey muscles of her neck began to bunch up. If her coffee cup had been someone’s neck, they’d be strangled about now.

  “What I mean is…” Oh God. Heat shot up Sarah’s throat and into her face. This was not smoothing things out at all. “You’re smart. And nice, of course. And successful. What I’m trying to say is, you’re a good catch. A great catch, I’m sure. And you must be, like, going on dates all the time, right? Not that I mean, like, that you’re breaking hearts left and right…Oh dammit!” Coffee sloshed over Sarah’s cup and onto the table. She sopped it with her napkin, which quickly became saturated.

  “Here.” Joss wiped up the rest with her own napkin.

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, her face still hot, and she knew it was splotched with red patches. It was the worst thing about being so fair-skinned—she couldn’t hide her emotions worth a crap. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t.” Joss smiled for real now. “But it was amusing watching you try to walk it back.”

  Sarah’s temper sparked. “Well, I’m glad I can at least provide you with some entertainment.”

  “Hey.” Joss awkwardly placed her hand on Sarah’s, then quickly retracted it. “Let’s start this conversation over, all right?”

  “Fine. I didn’t mean to insult you. I know you don’t need anyone making dates for you.”

  Joss looked away, her fingers tapping an ardent beat on the tabletop.

  Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You do have trouble getting dates.”

  The truth of it was written all over Joss’s face, and yet the idea of it was unfathomable. She was a doctor, a successful surgeon. She came from a wealthy family, and she was very good looking, even if it was in a starched, conventional way. Her blond hair was functionally short but stylish. Her green eyes were clear, intelligent, a little mysterious in their skill at hiding all those emotions. She was tall and had a runner’s body. She was everything other women would find attractive.

  “I don’t have time to date,” Joss countered.

  “Okay. But you’d like to go out with someone once in a while, would that be fair to say?”

  “It would be helpful for my work, I suppose.”

  “Then maybe your mother was simply trying to help.”

  “And what about your stepmother? Was she trying to help you?”

  “Ye
s, I suppose she was.” Sarah sipped her cappuccino and decided to be honest. “I’m basically your starving artist, and she was fixin’ to set me up with a part-time job, so to speak.”

  Joss paused for a long moment, her thoughts unreadable. “What kind of starving artist?”

  “I paint. Landscapes mostly, but some abstracts as well. As I said, I teach part-time on campus, but it’s not enough to make a living. And my paintings, well…they’re not exactly in high demand. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I see.”

  Under Joss’s scrutinizing gaze, it was like she was a specimen under a microscope—a feeling she wasn’t unfamiliar with—but she didn’t much like it. She didn’t want to seem pathetic. Or desperate. She mentally counted to five and returned Joss’s gaze. Perhaps it was the certainty in those eyes or the strong angles of her broad shoulders, but she seemed to be the kind of woman who could handle the truth. “My father—he’s a corporate lawyer in town—has been my benefactor, but he’s made it clear he thinks I should give up this painting ‘silliness’ and get a real job.”

  Joss frowned. “He calls your work silly? As in frivolous?”

  “Yes, mostly. Although ‘hogwash’ is usually his word of choice. I think he was willing to indulge it through my college years, probably because he thought it was some kind of phase that would pass. Now, he’s…” Sarah’s voice faltered as her thoughts drifted to the uncompromising look on her father’s face at dinner last week, when he’d told her she needed to stand on her own two feet. His financial withdrawal hadn’t been the painful part. What hurt was that he didn’t believe in her talents, in her determination to be successful at what she loved to do. He’d never truly believed in her—something she typically tried to downplay to everyone but her stepmother and her roommate Lauren. Joss was the first stranger she had confided in about her father’s disapproval.

  “I’m sorry,” Joss said. The warmth in her voice, the understanding and quiet self-possession in her eyes that said everything would be okay made Sarah fall apart inside for a moment.