Free Banjo Man by Sally Goldenbaum Page B

you got a fever?”
    Before Laurie could protest, Ellen was perched on the windowsill, one palm resting flat against Laurie’s forehead, the other hand circling her wrist. “Uh-oh, just as I expected. Temperature elevated, pulse erratic; I bet your blood pressure’s sky-high. Did you have a good time last night?”
    Laurie had to laugh at the obvious non sequitur. “Thank you, Nurse Farrell. It’s nice to know you make house calls.”
    “Anything for a friend. So tell me, how’s Rick Westin?”
    “He’s fine,” Laurie said, taking a sudden interest in the sunrise.
    “Aha!” Ellen chortled with delight. “Pulse racing! Pressure mounting—”
    “Ellen, stop it.” Laurie laughed, jumping off the chair and out of reach. “You’re supposed to be on
my
side.”
    “But I am! I’m hoping you fall madly in love with the fellow, because he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met. And you’re my best friend. The two of you deserve each other. Besides”—her hearty laugh bounced off the walls—“it’ll be a wild and crazy love affair, that’s for sure! I could write it up for
Woman’s Day
and make a fortune.”
    “Ellen!”
    “No, I’d never do that. I promise.” She held up three fingers in the Girl Scout oath, and then added with a wink, “But I am anxiously awaiting confirmation of my diagnosis.”
    Laurie avoided her friend’s eyes, turning away with her hands clasped behind her back. “The patient isn’t sure herself yet.”
    “Ah, understandable, considering the patient’s recent case history.”
    Laurie licked her suddenly dry lips. “Is it your considered opinion that the patient could survive exposure to such a disease?”
    “Oh, sweetie”—Ellen stepped closer—“it’s life that’s the disease. Love is the cure.”
    Later, standing beneath the hot spray of the shower, Laurie tipped back her head and let the water wash over her upturned face. But instead of soothing her, the water’s rush added to her restlessness. She felt fidgety, itchy, all in a dither! Out of nowhere a scene from an old western movie popped into her head: a captive tied up on top of a red-ant hill. That was just how she felt! It was as if her skin were alive, every nerve ending aflame, every synapse relaying a single message over and over again:
desire.
    His kiss. His touch. The heat of his body.
    She wanted Rick Westin.
    But if she got him, what in the world would she do with him?
    Laurie dissolved into heated laughter, and turned the cold water on full force. There had to be some calm, logical, mature way to deal with this entire situation. Trouble was, she couldn’t think of a thing.
    She turned off the water, stepped from the shower, and covered herself with a fluffy terry towel. Rubbing herself dry, she was suddenly and totally aware of her body and its own secret, teasing promise.
    What would it be like to make love with a man? What would he think of her body, these narrow shoulders and small, pink-tipped breasts, these hips? Were her hips too bony to be provocative? Were her buttocks too flat? Did men like that, or did they want full, curving bottoms to cup in their hands? And her knees … and her feet … and the parts of her body she was carefully not naming, not even to herself! Could she ever let a man look at her naked?
    The thought sent horrified shivers racing down her spine from her reeling brain.
    But her traitorous body was busy with its own fantasy. Her heart was turning somersaults in her throat, her stomach was tied in a knot, and her skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat.
Naked.
What would it be like to stand in front of a man naked? Or in front of a naked man?
    No sooner thought than imagined! With her mind’s eye she saw Rick Westin, with his dark, flashing eyes and the now-familiar smile tugging at his lips. And what else? Well, he had broad shoulders, and dark hair on his chest. But was there a lot? Just a little? She had been too scared to notice. Which would she like better?