Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough (33 page)

“He didn’t look right.” Gramps shrugged. “All I did was tell Allison. How’d he make out?”

“I checked before I left the hospital. He was admitted overnight for observation.”

“I saw you on the local news at ten last night and again this morning. You’re a regular celebrity,” Gramps said.

“There was a press conference last night?” Ali asked. How had he been interviewed without her knowing?

“School bus accidents are big news. A bunch of reporters showed up at the hospital looking for a story. The chief of staff dragged me out there to give them one.”

“Where was I?” she asked.

“Taking that nine-year-old boy with the concussion up to Pediatrics. It took all of five minutes. And this isn’t what it looks like, sir.”

“I thought I told you to call me Gramps.”

“Okay. Gramps. I drove Ali home from the hospital last night. We were both exhausted. I sat down for a minute, and the next thing I knew it was morning.”

Nice try. He’d passed her kitchen chairs and her couches to sit on her bed? Makes perfect sense. Not.

“You don’t need to explain, son. What Allison does with her life is her business.”

Huh? Since when?

“I’m just here to deliver breakfast,” Gramps said as he reached into the box on the table, snatched out two vanilla frosted donuts and headed for the door. “I’ll be on my way.” He blew Ali an air kiss, and with a big grin said, “From now on I won’t use my key unless it’s an emergency,” and escaped before she could grab back one of the donuts.

“I’ve got to head out, too,” Jared said, picking up his stethoscope, ID and watch from the kitchen table, and stuffing them into his coat pocket. “I have to go in tonight.” He kissed the top of her head. “May I come back after work?”

She smiled. “To pick up where we left off?” He hesitated.

Ali looked up. Their eyes met, held. Fifteen days left. In two weeks he’d be gone from her life. Ali accepted that. Did she want to squander the time remaining, sleeping alone, holding out hope for a Mr. Right she might never find, who might not even exist? Or did she want to spend them wrapped in Jared’s arms?

No contest.

“I’d like that,” she said with a smile, feeling happy and excited about the days, and nights, to come. “But only if you agree while we’re together, no other women.”

“None,” Jared said. “I promise.”

Jared couldn’t believe his luck. He slid out of his twelve-year-old Toyota Camry, sidestepped a slushy puddle and jogged toward his rental. After four days out sick with the stomach flu that had decimated hospital staffing, Dr. Reynolds arrived at the E.R. three and a half hours
before his assigned shift to give Jared some much-needed time off.

He unlocked the apartment door, dropped his keys on the counter and his coat on the couch. If he rushed, he could be at Ali’s by 5:15 p.m., sharing dinner with her by five-thirty and slipping into her bed to pick up where they’d left off that morning by six.

After major consideration, speckled with rationalization, Jared could find no benefit to sharing his marital status with Ali. No one in Madrin Falls knew about his marriage. Soon he would be gone. It seemed senseless to upset her.

He picked up the phone, ordered a pizza and jumped into the shower. Half an hour later, a bottle of Merlot in one hand, a steaming meatball and mushroom pizza in the other, Jared knocked on Ali’s door.

Unfortunately, the look she gave him when she cracked open her door just wide enough to stick out her head wasn’t the look of adoration and longing he’d hoped for.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not inviting him in. “I wasn’t expecting you until later tonight.”

“I got off early.” He held up the pizza and wine. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

She didn’t move.

“May I come in, please? It’s freezing out here.” Especially as his hair was still wet from his shower.

She looked over her shoulder at something inside her condo, then back at him. Was that guilt he saw in her expression? She hesitated before stepping back, opening the door just wide enough for him to follow the pizza box inside.

“I sort of have plans,” she said. As if her kitchen table set for two, with a small bouquet of fresh flowers in a crystal vase in the center wasn’t explanation enough. She had plans all right, and they didn’t include him. Suddenly
it hurt to breathe. Ali had plans to share that pretty little table with someone else. Disappointed didn’t come close to describing how he felt at that moment. It must have showed on his face because she rushed to add, “Let me explain.”

A knock at the door preempted what she was about to say and something inside Jared snapped. Ali was his. She’d been on his mind all day, and he was desperate to hold her, to feel her and taste her. The last thing he wanted to do was share her.

Ali glanced at the door but made no move to open it.

Jared placed the pizza box and wine on the kitchen counter, took a deep, calming breath and, praying for restraint, strode to the door. Even though physical violence was totally out of character for him, he visualized opening it, punching her date in the face and slamming it shut. Only Ali, being the caring person she was, would probably fawn all over the loser lying on her front porch, and
he
would be on the receiving end of Ali’s caring concern and tender touches. Jared would likely get chastised and sent home, alone, which was absolutely not part of his plan for the evening.

Plastering his most intimidating look on his face, Jared whipped open the door to stare down the intruder trying to cut into his private time with Ali. Way down, it turned out, because the person before him couldn’t be more than four feet tall. Even with her thinning white up-do teased and hairsprayed, adding at least another three inches to her stature, she didn’t come up much past the middle of his ribcage. Her posture hunched, her skin wrinkled, she looked to be closing in on the century mark.

“This your new fella?” the woman asked as she banged him in the shin with her metal quad-cane and used his moment of shock and discomfort to limp past him. “He’s
got the manners of a baboon, making an old lady stand outside in the cold.”

Her thick, rust-colored down coat zipped up to her nose, the hem an inch or two above her ankles, would likely keep her warm down to thirty below zero, he figured. But she was right. “Sorry. You caught me by surprise.”

“Come in, Mrs. Tupper,” Ali said, rushing to the woman’s side to take the plastic grocery bag she carried and help her out of her coat. “My friend was just leaving.”

Her friend? Was that all he was? A mere friend? For some reason the term irked him. Did all her “friends” have the same benefits he did? They’d better not. And why should he care? Because as long as he was in town, Ali was his.

“He doesn’t have to leave on my account.” She held out her hand. “Martha Tupper, Allison’s next-door neighbor. Who might you be?”

Jared took her small cold hand into his. “Jared Padget. Ali and I work together at the hospital.”

The woman stiffened, yanked back her hand and looked him up and down with equal parts distrust and distaste. “You a doctor?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tupper,” Ali intervened. “Yes, Jared is a doctor. But I didn’t invite him here to see you. Lord knows, I’ll never do that again. Not after last time.” She turned to him. “Mrs. Tupper doesn’t like doctors.”

That explained Ali’s initial apprehension about letting him in.

“A doctor killed my Melvin,” Mrs. Tupper said. “And had the nerve to deny it.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Tupper,” Jared said. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your dinner plans. I’ll be heading home now.” He almost choked on the words as he said them. He didn’t want to go to his empty rental with
its smelly sofa and five-channel black-and-white television set.

Ali looked torn, like she didn’t want him to leave but didn’t know what else to do.

Mrs. Tupper looked back and forth between them. “Now, hold on. There’s no need for you to rush off.” She walked over to a chair. Jared slid it out from beneath the table, and she lowered herself into it. “I guess if you can keep your doctor mumbo jumbo to yourself, I can keep quiet about my opinion of some members of your profession,” she said to Jared. “I haven’t had dinner with a looker like you in ages.”

Jared glanced at Ali, who smiled. “Consider my mumbo jumbo mute,” he said.

“Dinner’s ready whenever you are,” Ali said.

Jared shrugged out of his coat so fast the sleeves turned inside out. “Smells good.”

“Homemade beef barley soup and cranberry walnut wheat bread fresh out of the oven.”

Jared’s mouth watered. Ali’s soup smelled delicious. It reminded him of delectable homemade meals his mother had prepared before his father had died, when they’d sat down at the table together every night, a loving family, joking and discussing their day. He’d hoped to recreate that tradition with his own family. Stupid him for ever thinking life would turn out the way he wanted it to.

Ali set an extra place at the table.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jared asked as he washed his hands, noticing how cute she looked in her red “Kiss the Cook” apron. He couldn’t wait to kiss the cook.

“Nope. Just dig in and enjoy.”

Jared did just that. For years he’d eaten alone in low-budget restaurants, crowded hospital cafeterias or at
whatever rental he called home at the time. Sitting around the table with Allison and Martha, in Ali’s cozy kitchen, eating homemade soup that tasted as good as it smelled, and engaging in friendly conversation, he felt like part of a family, included and accepted. He hadn’t felt any of those things in a very long time.

Jared watched Ali. She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and smiled at Mrs. Tupper, her eyes warm and caring. She listened with interest to news of Mrs. Tupper’s grandchildren and her plans for a new afghan. Mrs. Tupper, a woman who looked like she didn’t smile often, beamed under Ali’s attention. Most people did.

He’d judged her unfairly. Thanks to Cici, no woman was above suspicion. He’d thought her an opportunist, trying to manipulate his friend, a successful physician, into marriage for her own personal gain. Later he’d thought her a plaything, something to entertain him until he moved on. Until he’d learned her soul was as damaged as his. Until he’d taken the time to really see her, a woman desperate to be loved, a woman committed to helping others, not only while at work but in her personal life as well. A beautiful, sensual woman intent on making the world a better place for those around her. A woman he’d be proud to call his.

Only he couldn’t, wouldn’t. But the more time he spent with her, the more the idea of weekend trysts, maybe the occasional mini-vacation in a location where bikinis were mandatory attire, increased in appeal. Not a relationship, but an if-you-don’t-have-anything-better-to-do-let’s-get-together sort of thing. Until she found a man to marry.

The thought of Ali with another man left him cold. He tightened his grip on his spoon.

“How’s your soup?” Ali asked, looking at him with concern.

“Delicious.” He smiled and ate the last few spoonfuls.

She stood. “Would you like some more?”

Without waiting for his answer, she took his bowl to the stove and refilled it, like his mother used to do for his father each night at dinner. Mom had served Dad, not because he’d expected it but because she’d loved taking care of him.

When Ali placed the full bowl of soup and another piece of bread in front of him, Jared croaked a thank you past the sadness and loss balled in his throat.

After dinner, Ali insisted on walking her neighbor next door to carry a bag of leftovers. Jared prayed she wouldn’t be gone long. He’d missed her every minute since he’d left her that morning, and couldn’t wait to get her back into his arms, for as long as he could, as often as he could, until the time came for him to leave.

Ali returned from accompanying Mrs. Tupper next door to find Jared relaxed on the couch, sipping from a wine glass filled with what looked like the Merlot he’d brought earlier. He patted the cushion beside him. “Saved you a seat.”

He looked so comfortable, like he belonged there. She could get used to coming home to him, having someone to talk to over dinner, to snuggle up against night after night.

But soon he’d be gone and she intended to make good use of the limited time they had left. She hid a yawn as she hung up her coat. Instead of sitting on the couch, she knelt at Jared’s feet, inserted herself between his legs and rested her hands on his thighs. “It was nice of you to agree to take a look at Mrs. Tupper’s heel ulcer.”

He shrugged. “I’m a doctor, it’s what I do.”

It was so much more. He’d offered to visit Mrs. Tupper in her condo, without Ali having to cajole or entice to elicit his involvement, like she’d had to do with Michael.

“What happened the last time you sprang a doctor on her?” He covered her hands with his.

“Michael came on a little too strong.” Too pompous. Too condescending. “He tried to scare her by telling her what could happen if she refused treatment. She developed chest pain and I spent the night with her in the E.R.” Michael had not been happy she’d chosen to stay with Mrs. Tupper instead of going home with him. Putting thoughts of Michael to one side, she looked up at Jared, knew what he’d like. His muscles tensed under her wandering palms.

“It’s all about gaining a patient’s trust.”

Jared’s particular area of expertise. She placed her mouth over the growing bulge in the front of his nylon sport pants and forced out a hot, moist breath. He moaned and opened his legs wider.

“Did you have your heart set on picking up where we left off this morning?” Ali asked, lifting her head briefly before releasing another burst of heated air against his groin. “Because I thought it might be fun to mix things up a bit.” She nuzzled his aroused flesh through the thin material.

He worked his fingers through her hair and held her head in place. “You know I like variety.” He swiveled his hips. “Mix away.”

She couldn’t contain the next yawn, and eagle-eyed Jared noticed.

“Hey. You don’t have to do that. Come up here,” he said, lifting her onto the couch. “You’re exhausted. You have bags under your eyes. You hardly ate your dinner.”