Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough (29 page)

He sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows raised in challenge. She wanted to smear butter all over the pleased look on his face. Blending into the background was more her style, not standing center stage, and he knew it.

But Ali would not let him win. “I’d love to dance, Jared.” Arms resting on the table, she leaned in, as he’d done a moment earlier.

Without giving her a chance to reconsider, he stood and offered her his hand. She stared up at him. God, he was gorgeous.

Entranced, she rose, and with his hand at the small of her back allowed herself to be guided to the dance floor, where he promptly left her standing all alone while he went to whisper something to the pianist. Deserted and on display, with dozens of eyes watching her, Ali was seconds away from walking back to their table when he returned.

“I requested a song that makes me think of you every time I hear it.” He took her into his arms and everyone in the room vanished, only the two of them existed. His left hand, mere centimeters above her butt, held her firmly against him. She inhaled the delicious scent of him and fought the urge to bury her face in his neck.

The notes from “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole filled the room. Jared hugged her close. Ali reveled in his strength and the smooth sway of his hips as they moved to the music. He dipped his head, his mouth at her ear, his breath hot as he quietly serenaded her, singing in time with the melody from the piano.

Her heart swelled with affection. No man had ever sung
to her so sweetly, so meaningfully. No man had ever made a gesture so poignant, so romantic.

Was this the practiced seduction of an accomplished seducer of women, or did he mean the lovely words sung so tenderly for only her to hear? And did she want him to mean them? Yes. Yes she did.

When the song ended Ali asked, “You woo a lot of women this way?” With flawless dancing and inspired singing. A niggling voice of reason urged caution.

He pulled her close. “I’m hardly the womanizer you think me to be, Ali.”

She wished it were true.

Jared was in heaven, holding Ali in his arms, their torsos pressed together through a second song. They danced like they’d been doing it for years, perfectly in sync. Her hair smelled like flowers in spring and he, like a bumblebee in search of her pollen, couldn’t get enough.

At one point she’d gone tense, tried to pull away. “Please,” he’d said, not ready to release her, not knowing if he’d ever have the chance to hold her again. “Not yet. One more song.”

She’d studied him, must have seen his desperate need, and stepped back into his embrace. Jared lifted her arms and told her to clasp her fingers behind his neck. He rested his hands at the concave curve of her waist and pulled her close, wishing their time together didn’t have to end.

But it did. She wanted marriage. And he couldn’t marry her now even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. When the song ended, Jared reluctantly released Ali and escorted her back to their table, where the waiter promptly served their entrées.

After eating a minuscule piece of her plain broiled
chicken breast Ali said, “I held up my part of the bargain, now it’s your turn. Start talking.”

“Bargain?” He put a forkful of veal marsala into his mouth. “I don’t remember making any bargain.”

She kicked him with her pointy-toed boot. “Tell me about your mother.”

Jared took a sip of water and fought the urge to take out a stick of gum. Ali stared at him, waited for a response. Way to ruin a perfectly good dinner. He blotted his mouth with his cloth napkin. Ali already thought him the worst sort of man. After this, any chance he might have had with her would evaporate.
Poof.
Gone.

Maybe it was for the best. Her opinion of him would be solidified, and he could stop entertaining the possibility of anything more than a professional relationship between them.

“I haven’t spoken with my mother in twelve years.” Since he’d returned from his high-school graduation to find all of his belongings packed into boxes stacked outside their apartment door, which had sported a shiny new lock to which he had not been given a key.

Jared knew what came next. What kind of son doesn’t talk to his mother for twelve years? What kind of son gives up his attempts to reconcile when he was the one responsible for the rift between them? What kind of son doesn’t fulfill his father’s dying wish?
Take care of your mother.

But Ali simply asked, “Why?”

Jared’s heart pinched. “Mom wasn’t at all happy I waited to call 911 after my father started complaining of chest pain, thus allowing my dad to die in his recliner chair before the paramedics could arrive to save him.”

“He told me he’d be okay in a few minutes. He said it was indigestion,” Jared had said to his mother, trying to justify not making the call until after his father had lost
consciousness.
He hadn’t mentioned the fact that while all that was happening, his mom had been out at the store, buying the antacids her husband had requested.

“You stupid boy. Can’t you tell the difference between indigestion and a heart attack?”

Years later Jared realized his mom had likely been as angry with herself as she’d been with him. Although at the time her anger at Jared had consumed her, and was the only emotion she’d let him see. Coping mechanism? It didn’t much matter now.

“Jared, you were what, fourteen, fifteen years old? What kind of mother blames something like that on her child?” Ali asked.

She surprised him, choosing to question his mom’s actions rather than his. “An angry one.” Someone who had been jealous of the close relationship between her husband and his biological son who’d come as part of the package when she’d married. One who’d wanted a daughter of her own, but had got stuck with an adopted child she resented, unhappy when the man she loved devoted his time and attention to anyone but her.

“What did she expect you to do?”

“Let’s see. I should have dialed 911 immediately and left my dad to run next door to get our neighbor, who was a nurse. Turns out she’d been home. Mom checked.” But at the time, obeying his father, staying with him so he wouldn’t be alone, had seemed like the right course of action.

“I’m so sorry, Jared.” She placed her hand on his forearm. Not at all what Jared had expected. She studied his face, saw something that made her say, “You have to know his death was not your fault.”

Yes. But on rare occasions, a small part of him still wondered … what if. What if he hadn’t waited to call 911? What
if his father had received prompt medical attention? Would he have survived? “Irrelevant. Mom needed someone to blame.” He shrugged. “I was handy. It all worked out. She barely acknowledged me for a bunch of years.” At a time when a guilt-ridden, grieving teenage boy had desperately needed the love and understanding of the only mother he’d ever known. He’d tried so hard to earn her forgiveness, taking on two after-school jobs, maintaining the house, the yard and then their apartment, shopping for food, making meals she’d refused to eat.
You will never be the wonderful man and husband your father was, so stop trying.
Many years later, it was with those hurtful words in mind that he’d proposed to his wife, determined to do better, to prove his mother wrong. Turned out she’d been right.

“It gave me plenty of time to work like a dog to get my grades up and earn money for college, apply for scholarships.” To become a physician so no kid would have to go through what he’d gone through. How naïve he’d been.

“And after so many years you still haven’t worked things out?” Ali asked, with a look of disbelief.

Jared shook his head. His sadness over his father’s death and hurt at his mother’s subsequent alienation had barely lessened with time. Chances were his mother’s anger and resentment toward him hadn’t either.

“The day my mom took her life, we’d had a terrible fight,” Ali said, looking up at him with sad eyes. “I told her I hated her. Those were the last words she’d ever heard me say.”

He didn’t know how to respond so he put his hand over hers, which still rested on his arm.

“For years I’ve regretted not being able to apologize or tell her I loved her with all my heart. There was a time, if I could have bargained a few years off my life to get my mom a message up in heaven, I would have.” She took his
right hand between both of hers and looked up at him. “You have a chance to make things right with your mother, before it’s too late. You have to do it, Jared. Don’t wait.”

From time to time he’d considered it, but doubted his mother would be interested. Did he want to give her an opportunity to reject him? Again?

“You’ll at least think about it?” she asked, looking hopeful.

He didn’t want to disappoint her. “I will.” Maybe he could enclose a quick note in the next monthly check he mailed her, or at least put a return address on the envelope in case she wanted to contact him.

“It seems we’ve both overcome difficult childhoods to get where we are today,” Ali said. “Something in common.

Who knew?”

“Oh, we have lots in common,” Jared said, ready for a change of subject. “We are both well-respected healthcare professionals, outside work we are both snazzy dressers, and …” he leaned in close for the last similarity “… we are both hot for each other.”

She swatted his arm, laughing. He loved the sound.

Sharing bits of their past seemed to put Ali at ease. For the rest of the meal they chatted and teased. Jared couldn’t remember ever enjoying a dinner date more. While they waited outside for the valet to retrieve his car, the temperature below freezing, she didn’t balk when he pulled her close to warm her. Progress.

On the drive home he took a chance, removing her mitten and taking her hand in his, skin on skin, settling both on her thigh. “I had a nice time tonight.”

She didn’t pull away. “Me, too.”

Later that night, in her bed, Ali tossed and turned, restless and unable to sleep. Each day she learned or noticed
something new about Jared, started to like him a little bit more. Eighteen days. Whenever she thought about him leaving it was as if, in the background, a gigantic pendulum ticked away each second, reminding her time was running out.

The telephone rang.

She fumbled in the dark, trying to locate the receiver on her nightstand. Finding it, she glanced at the orange glow of the numbers on her alarm clock as she picked it up. It was almost midnight. Had something happened to her granddad? An emergency at the hospital? Her pulse sped up. “Hello?”

Jared’s deep voice, smooth as a shot of blackberry brandy, soothing her, warming her from the inside out, said, “I called to say good night.”

“We already said good night.” An hour ago, her back pushed up against the outside of her front door, with a mind-altering kiss that’d had her on the verge of dragging him inside her condo.

“And,” he rushed to add, “to see if you’re thinking about me like I’m thinking of you?”

She was. “I might be.”

“We never had dessert. I think I can rustle up half a box of chocolate-chip cookies. How about I bring them over?”

“I’m in bed, Jared.”

“Perfect.” He sounded like he was smiling. “Dessert in bed. I like it.”

“I don’t think so.” Although, boy, did it sound tempting.

“You want to know what I’m doing right now?” he asked. The teasing, sexy tone of his voice gave her some idea.

“I’m naked, in a big bed, all alone, thinking of you,”
he said. “Wishing you were here.” His voice dropped an octave. “Pretending my hand is your mouth, driving me wild.”

The mouth in question watered. She swallowed. “You have got to be kidding me. Phone sex? That’s why you called?” She pretended to be outraged but the idea had some appeal. Satisfying her urge for him without tender touches and caring words that put her heart at risk.

“I’d prefer real sex, but I’ll take what I can get. Now, pretend your hand is mine. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

For weeks, while alone in her bed, she’d pretended her hands were his, roaming her body. Hearing his voice made the experience more real. Unable to stop herself, she wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder, and slid her hands up her flat abdomen. “You’re cupping my breasts while your thumbs flick over my nipples.” Her ultrasensitive nipples, sending a shockwave of arousal to every nerve ending in her body.

“Are they hard?” His voice roughened. “Your nipples.”

“Yes.” She moaned, pretending her hands were his, her hips rocking, searching for what wasn’t there. “Are you wet?”

“So wet.” So aroused, so hot. She wanted so much more. “Oh, Jared. I wish you were here.” “Hold that thought,” he said.

“Jared? Jared!” she yelled into the phone, talking to the dial tone. “Dammit!”

She paced the hallway from her bedroom to the kitchen, twirling a lock of hair around her finger over and over until it knotted. A frantic pounding broke the tense quiet in her condo. She jumped, waited, hoping he’d give up and go away. Like that might actually happen. When the knick-knacks on the shelf by her door began to rattle she knew
it was only a matter of time before her neighbors began to peer outside.

The robe she’d put on was no protection from the blast of freezing-cold air that blew in when she yanked open the door. “Come in before—”

It turned out no invitation was necessary, because he pushed inside before she could finish, a man possessed, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his boots.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“I’m subletting in Building B. I ran over.”

His heavy breathing didn’t slow him down one bit. In two giant steps he had her in his arms.

“What, no cookies? You said you’d bring cookies.” She tried to distract him.

Not going to happen. He buried his face against her neck. “God, what you do to me, Ali.” He held her tight, kissing up to her ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you, dreaming about you, wanting you.”

“This is a terrible idea, Jared,” she said, trying to push him away, hoping that saying it out loud, hearing the words coming from her own mouth, would counteract the enormous surge of lust overwhelming her good sense. She wasn’t an eighteen-days-of-fun kind of girl anymore. Though, through the thick fog of arousal, she couldn’t quite remember why.