The Marriage Experiment

“Which departments, Olivia?” Grant inquired.

“Maternity and the Outpatient Clinic, for a start, but—”

“Their situations aren’t as critical.”

“No, they aren’t. But under the circumstances, I feel that—”

“How you feel isn’t the issue,” he said tersely. “We’re talking about saving lives here. With all due respect, childbirth is a normal function which the female body is superbly designed to deal with, and most deliveries are free of complications—”

“But not all of them, Dr. Madison,” she cut in, any inclination she might have harbored to view him in a more kindly light fast disappearing. “Although you can be forgiven for having forgotten that, since it’s never been an area of particular interest to you.”

For a second or two they locked gazes, and she knew from the faint flush that ran under his skin that he recognized the private condemnation behind her remark. But he recovered quickly and overrode it so thoroughly she might as well have saved herself the bother of airing it. “I don’t wish to be offensive, but you’re scarcely qualified to determine priorities here. The Outpatient Clinic, by definition, is not an acute care facility. Anyone requiring round-the-clock supervision would be admitted to one of the wards.”

She laid down her pen and said very distinctly, “I know.”

“I don’t think you do, since you’re clearly unable to view the matter with any kind of objectivity. You need to consult an expert before you—”

“Dr. Madison,” she interrupted, taking great pleasure in cutting him off for a change, “I don’t presume to tell you how to do your job. I’d appreciate it if you’d afford me the same professional courtesy and not try telling me how to do mine. Now, if I may continue?”

He gave a condescending little smile, as though she were a child he had to humor. “Please do.”

She could have choked him! “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome.”

Aaagh! Fairly spitting out the words, she went on, “I have completed an exhaustive study of the various proposals put forward by the members of this committee, and it is my recommendation that we divert existing funds to those departments who’ve already appealed to us for help. That would leave us free to direct the proceeds of our next major fundraiser to the Cardiac Unit.”

“Would it, indeed?” he said, in a somewhat more deferential tone. “I see.”

But she was in no mood to be conciliatory when he’d done his best to belittle her in front of her colleagues. “You’d have seen a lot sooner if you’d had the good manners to let me finish a sentence without interruption.”

“I stand corrected,” he said, bathing her in his most charming smile. “Would it be out of line for me to ask how soon this major fundraising event will take place?”

“In August,” she snapped, aware that no one was missing a syllable of their exchange and that to continue the battle of one-upmanship was not only likely to end in defeat for her, but would also add to the gossip already circulating. “At the hospital’s annual carnival.”

“Carnival…? Oh, of course, that day-long shindig culminating in the Sunflower Ball! How could I have forgotten?”

How indeed, since the only one he’d attended had been during those hungry pre-wedding days when they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other, and, while everyone else had been sipping wine between waltzes, he’d whisked her out from under her father’s nose and spent most of the evening making love to her in the rose arbor at the Country Club!

“Very easily, I’m sure,” she said, stuffing her papers into her briefcase as everyone else began drifting toward the coffee urn set up on a trolley at the far end of the room. “But if you care to have your memory refreshed…” she indicated Daphne, hovering expectantly well within earshot “…speak to Mrs. Jerome, here. She chairs the social end of things and I don’t doubt she’d be delighted to fill you in on the details. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Dismissing him with a nod, she slid a sheet of paper across the table to Daphne. “Here’s a list of our latest sponsors, which I’ll leave for you to present to the others when the meeting reconvenes. If any other names come up, you can let me know later.”

“Aren’t you staying for coffee, dear?”

“Not today. I have another meeting to attend.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Grant said.

Plainly disappointed that the circus was over for the day, Daphne said, “What a pity you both have to leave, just when we’re about to take a social break. But I suppose you’d prefer to be alone to catch up on each other’s doings?”

“Not at all,” Olivia said stonily. “Dr. Madison and I no longer share anything in common, at least not on a personal level, so by all means feel free to enjoy his company.”

Deciding that was about as good an exit line as she could come up with, she made a beeline for the door.

He wasn’t about to be shaken off so easily, however. She’d barely left the room before he came striding out after her. “Just a minute, Olivia. You and I need to get a few things straight.”

But she’d had enough for one day, and when she saw the green arrow light up above the polished brass doors of the elevator at the end of the hall, she seized her chance to escape another lecture.

“Some other time, Doctor,” she said breezily, and, sprinting forward, managed to squeeze into the crowded car just before the doors slid shut in his face.

That afternoon, the temperature shot up into the low nineties. Not even the breeze off the river was enough to stir the air, and by the time Olivia got home, shortly after five, her smart linen suit was clinging to her like warm, limp lettuce.

Dropping her briefcase on the hall table, she propped open both front and back doors, flung wide all the windows, and hauled herself upstairs, intent on stripping down to the barest essentials and submersing herself in her swimming pool with all due speed. Add a little background music, a glass of cold white wine, and nothing but the fragrance of the heliotrope growing in pots around her patio to disturb the peace, and perhaps she’d begin to unwind from a day which had never quite recovered from the encounter with Grant.

Stupid, she knew, to let him get under her skin like that, but the way he’d behaved at the meeting had floored her. Though always something of a maverick, the young intern she’d once known and fallen in love with had been the least pretentious man she’d ever met, and had borne no resemblance at all to this morning’s arrogant nitpicker.

But the memory of his remarks, the scornful tone of his voice, his patronizing smile and confident assumption that she’d jump on command if he ordered her to, continued to mock her, even after she’d swum several lengths of the pool and collapsed on a chaise in the shade of a large sun umbrella.

You’re scarcely qualified to determine priorities…you’re clearly unable to view the matter with any kind of objectivity…you need to consult an expert….

“The nerve of him, condescending to me like that, as if I were still the wet-behind-the-ears girl he married!” she muttered indignantly, taking a swig of her wine.

A second later, the glass all but slipped from her fingers as a familiar voice inquired, “Do you often get plastered and start talking to yourself, sweet face? Because if you do, you should be aware that it’s a very dangerous habit to adopt which can and usually does lead to serious and long-lasting consequences.”

CHAPTER THREE

LOOKING supremely at ease, and for all the world as if he had every right to be there, he lounged against the frame of the French doors leading from her living room, his shabby attempt to look grave sadly undermined by the supercilious little smirk on his face.

“How did you get in here, Grant?” she spat, doing her best to sound both dignified and affronted—no easy task given that she was sprawled out practically naked before him and he was making no secret of the fact that he’d noticed.

“I let myself in,” he said, staring his fill at great leisure. “The butler doesn’t seem to be on duty. I thought perhaps you’d given him the night off.”

“I don’t have a butler.”

His smirk grew. “What, and no maid, either? Gee, it must be tough, having to do for yourself!”

“It is. But somehow I manage.” Aware that her strapless bikini top was precariously close to letting all it was supposed to contain fall out before his amused inspection, she tried rather unsuccessfully to cover herself with a towel.

Of course, if he’d had a grain of decency in his make-up, he’d have averted his eyes and let her fumble in private, but he’d never been long on chivalry. “You don’t seem to be managing that too well,” he drawled, shoving himself away from the door frame and ambling toward her. “Need any help?”

“Not from you,” she fumed, slapping the towel in his direction to keep him at a distance.

“No need to get all exercised, Olivia,” he said mildly. “I didn’t come here with seduction in mind.”

“What did you come for, then?” To her horror, the question emerged loaded with unintentional petulance, a fact he was also quick to pick up on.

“You sound almost disappointed, sweet face, as if it’s been a long time since a man reminded you how it feels to respond like a woman. Am I to take it that Hank from the Bank is no great shakes between the sheets?”