Dr. Irresistible

Yeah, right. Family problems, Pru repeated to herself now. His problem was that he hadn’t wanted a family.

She sighed with heartfelt frustration, pushed the sad memories away and sat down in her chair at the nurses’ station. She knew she was better off this way, that any life she might have tried to build with Kevin would have come tumbling down around her feet in no time flat. Better that she had discovered what kind of man he was before Tanner’s birth, than to risk having Tanner grow attached to his father and suffer the grief of his loss.

A baby needed to be loved and wanted. Kevin had obviously felt neither emotion for his son, and Tanner would have eventually figured that out. But Pru had enough love and want in her heart for two people and then some, and she gave it all to her child. Someday, she was confident, she would meet a man with whom she could share those feelings, too, a man who would be both perfect husband and perfect father material. For now, however, she was truly content to be alone.

Well, pretty content to be alone, at any rate. Kind of content. In a way. Being alone was certainly better than being with someone who didn’t love her. Of that much she was absolutely sure.

“Why, Prudence Holloway, as I live and breathe!”

Pru’s head snapped up at the summons, and her gaze fell on a woman who appeared to have exited from one of the patient rooms that surrounded the nurses’ station. She studied the woman intently in silence for a moment, and although she looked a bit familiar, Pru couldn’t quite place where she might have met her.

“Yes?” she said, not quite able to hide her confusion. “I’m Pru Holloway. Can I help you?”

The woman drew nearer and frowned at her, but the gesture seemed playful somehow. She wore a pale-lavender dress that shimmered beneath the fluorescent lighting overhead in a way that only pure silk can. Elegant pearls circled her neck and were fastened in her ears, and a good half dozen rings—all quite sparkly in a rainbow of hues—decorated the fingers of both hands. Her cosmetics were artfully applied, her strawberry-blond hair swept back from her face by an expert hand.

In no way was she the kind of woman who traveled in Pru’s social circle. This woman was obviously wealthy and refined, and used to the finer things in life.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me,” she said. “Easton High School? Class of ’90?”

Pru studied the woman harder. If this woman was, as she seemed to be claiming, a member of Pru’s senior class, then Pru should definitely remember her. No way would she forget anyone at Easton High in her native Pittsburgh, in spite of there having been 240 members of her graduating class, and in spite of the fact that she had gone out of her way to avoid every last one of them for the past ten years.

No way would she forget the people who had dubbed her, in the year book’s senior class superlatives, “Most Irresponsible.”

The dubious distinction had only crowned what had been four years of taunting from her classmates, and it had brought with it many chuckles throughout her senior year. Pru, however, had never been the one laughing. No, that particular pleasure had fallen to all her classmates, who had delighted in replaying, time and time again, all the instances when she had behaved a bit…oh…irresponsibly.

Pru herself had never understood the humor everyone else had found in having awarded her such a label. Even if she had been a tad, oh…irresponsible…over the years, that was no reason for her high school class to have voted her such.

And then to have printed the distinction in the senior yearbook.

Beside a photograph of her dangling upside down over the side of a cliff, with a rappelling line wrapped around her ankle after she had…irresponsibly…tried to climb it without the benefit of lessons.

And above a list of other activities—at least a dozen of them—that had been a trifle, oh…irresponsible.

For everyone to see. For everyone to laugh about. For all eternity.

It really wasn’t so much that Pru had been irresponsible, she tried to reassure herself now, as she had for so many years. No, it had just been that she just didn’t like to be bothered with taking the extra time out to learn to do things or read the instructions or follow rules.

These days, of course, she was nothing like she had been in high school. Nothing at all. No way. Motherhood had brought with it an enormous amount of responsibility. And Pru was proud of herself for having risen to the occasion so nicely. She took good care of her son, provided a life for him that was, if not luxurious, certainly more than adequate. And these days, those rash impulses that had been the bane of her youth were nowhere to be found.

At least, she was pretty sure they were nowhere to be found. It had been quite some time since she’d behaved rashly or impulsively. And she tried very hard to keep it that way. Of course, one could argue that her incessant preoccupation with one Seth Mahoney might be construed as slightly, oh…irresponsible. But she hadn’t acted on that preoccupation, had she? She hadn’t done anything there that might lead to behavior that was, oh…irresponsible. She hadn’t been at all impulsive or spontaneous or impetuous or even irresponsible.

Well, not yet, anyway, a little voice at the back of her head taunted her.

Ignoring the voice, Pru turned her attention back to the woman who had summoned her, resolved to decipher her identity.

As if sensing Pru’s determination, the woman smiled and said, “Oh, all right, I admit it. I’ve changed a bit.” She touched a finger to a delicate curl dancing over her forehead. “I used to be a dishwater blonde,” she confessed. “And I’ve lost about twenty-five pounds since we sat next to each other in Mrs. Clement’s literary social criticism class.”

Pru gaped, then covered her mouth. “Hazel Dubrowski?” she said.

The other woman’s smile turned radiant. “In person.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Pru cried, stunned by the transformation. “You look incredible.”

“Yes, I know,” Hazel agreed without a trace of modesty.

Now that Pru knew the woman’s identity, she could definitely see signs of seventeen-year-old Hazel Dubrowski lurking there. Still, ten years—and heaven knew how many trips to the salon—had given her old schoolmate a totally new appearance.

“It’s actually Hazel Debbit now,” she told Pru as she strode forward, pausing at the counter of the nurses’ station to drum perfectly manicured, plum-colored fingernails over the Formica covering. “I got married three years ago. My husband is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company that his father founded.”

“Is that what you’re doing here in South Jersey?” Pru asked. “Do you and your husband live here?”

Hazel shook her head. “No, we live in Pittsburgh, but my in-laws are here.” She jutted a thumb over her shoulder, toward the room she had exited a moment ago. “My father-in-law was in having some tests done. Nothing major,” she hastened to add. “He’s fine. In fact, my husband is helping him pack up his things now, because he’s just been released.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

The other woman nodded. “And now I run into you after all this time. Prudence Holloway. I can’t believe it. Small world. So what have you been doing since graduation? Nobody’s heard from you since you left Pittsburgh, especially now that your folks moved.”

Yes, well, there was a good reason for that, Pru recalled. Namely that she didn’t want to speak to anyone in Pittsburgh, especially now that her folks had moved. But she didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Hazel that.

“I’ve been living here in South Jersey for about six years now, ever since getting my nursing degree. I needed a change,” she said casually by way of an explanation. At least, she hoped she’d sounded casual. Because it really hadn’t been so much because she needed a change that had made her leave Pittsburgh. It had been more because she had needed an entirely new life.

“Wow,” Hazel said, obviously surprised by this news. “You got a nursing degree?” She shook her head in disbelief. “When I saw you standing out here, I figured you must be a hospital volunteer or something. I had no idea you were actually a nurse. I mean, that takes drive and ambition. You really have to dedicate yourself. I can’t believe you lasted through four years of college and nurse’s training. That’s amazing.”

Yeah, Pru thought morosely, and now that Hazel did know she was a nurse, she’d probably be wondering if her father-in-law had been safe while assigned to this unit. Because, hey, to everyone at Easton High, Prudence Holloway would live forever as “Most Irresponsible,” dangling upside down from a rappelling line.

“I mean,” Hazel added, as if she really, really, really wanted to drive home her point, “I can’t imagine anyone giving you a degree in something like nursing. It just sort of defies logic.”

Pru drew herself up with all the dignity she could muster. She was remembering Hazel pretty well now and recalling that, by their senior year, she had been like everyone else at Easton. Always looking for a new way to tear Pru down. Always poking fun. Always laughing.

“Yeah, well, even more astonishing,” Pru couldn’t help adding, “I graduated from nursing school at the top of my class.”

This time Hazel was the one to gape. “Get out,” she said. “Where did you go? Did you take one of those International School of Bartending nursing courses?”

Somehow, Pru managed to keep her growl of discontent to herself. “No. I went to Penn State,” she said.

Hazel only shook her head slowly as she studied Pru. “Boy, you just never know with some schools, do you?”

What Pru knew was that there was no reason to continue with this conversation. Just as everything—and everyone—else in high school had, it would only serve to demoralize her further. She’d come a long way in the ten years that had passed since graduation, and she wasn’t about to go back. Hazel Dubrowski Debbit just served as a reminder of how good Pru had it these days, having left all that behind.

“Well,” she said coolly to Hazel as she picked up a file from the counter that she really didn’t need at the moment. “It was good seeing you again, Hazel. Give my regards to everybody in Pittsburgh.”

She hoped she’d made clear her subtle but suitable hint that their conversation—and all other contact—was concluded, but Hazel obviously didn’t take it. Because even when Pru glanced down as if looking for something else, her old classmate closed what little distance remained between her and the station, then folded her arms over the counter. When Pru glanced up, arching her eyebrows in silent query, Hazel only smiled.

“You’ll be at the reunion next month, right?”

Although Pru had received her invitation—wondering, frankly, how and why the reunion committee had tracked her down—she had ignored it. No way would she subject herself to something like a ten-year reunion. Hey, she was happy these days. Why mess with a good thing? Especially since, considering her present situation of single motherhood, she would only be laughed at all over again?

Because what could possibly be more irresponsible than being knocked up and abandoned, right? The last thing Pru needed was for her senior class to be hearing about that. “No, I hadn’t planned to attend,” she said. Then, unable to quite quell the ten-year-old hurt that had haunted her, she found herself adding, “Do you honestly think I want to go to a ten-year reunion and see a bunch of people who voted me ‘most irresponsible’ in the senior class superlatives? Why should I put myself through that? High school was bad enough the first time around. Who needs to go through it a second time?”