His Four Poster Bed (Bedroom Secrets Series Book 2) (8 page)

When Marcia called me to the front of the room to go through the week’s study results I just avoided eye contact with him.

“As you can see from the graph,” I said, quickly parsing through the curve. “Patients one through ten are all responding very well to the new protocol. We’ve seen reductions in tumor sizes across all patients. Patient three has shown particular improvements . . .” It was good news, something that distracted me from my worries about Marco and the night before. The new chemotherapy was helping these children live, it was making a difference.

I may not have known exactly what I was doing with Marco Amador, but I knew what my job was the minute I walked through the doors of that hospital. I was there to save lives, to help children fight a bit longer, maybe even beat their cancer into remission.

Besides I didn’t know Marco well enough to have real feelings for him. We’d had great sex, that was it. Great sex didn’t mean we felt anything but lust for each other, I hardly knew the man. I also wasn’t looking for a relationship. I wasn’t wired for happily ever after and I didn’t want to be.

If that’s true, then why did I care a gorgeous woman was drinking tea at his breakfast bar? I really wished that little voice in my head would take a rest.

I buried my conflicting emotions that day diving deep into work. I walked the halls, heel clicking, dodging Dr. Mike’s sad eyed stare focusing on my caseload and the patients that we were helping.

“Dr. Starr, these are for you,” one of the young candy stripers working the main desk called to me as I was heading to the lab to check on some results. The singsong quality of her voice made me think the news was good at least.

An enormous bouquet of flowers sat on the desk in front of her. There were hydrangeas, roses, and orchids tightly bundled together. It was a gorgeous and ridiculously expensive display of peaches and creams. I loved it, every glorious petal of that over the top flower arrangement.

“Thank you,” I said, cheeks burning as I unwrapped the plastic wrap and read the attached card.

Dinner tonight . . . 7:00 p.m.? - Marco.
Followed by his number.

The strong lines of his writing made my knees go weak.

“Somebody has an admirer,” the young girl behind the desk sang, grinning at me.

I shrugged and smiled, my heart pounding as I picked up the flowers. I turned and almost smacked right into Dr. Mike. He cleared his throat and raised a single eyebrow as he stepped out of my way and walked past.

Once again, I’d managed to unintentionally piss off and probably hurt my ex-lover. I felt badly about Dr. Mike seeing the flowers, they were not the kind of flowers that came from family and Dr. Mike knew enough about my strained relationship with Mom and Dad to know that this was from a different kind of admirer.

I took a moment and rubbed my forehead.

I’d have to talk to him, apologize maybe but for now I had work to do and a choice to make.

After the disastrous run in with Veronica this morning, would I actually see Marco Amador again? My mind said no, but my body said yes, a thousand times yes.

“You like him,” Shea said, pouring me a glass of red wine from my kitchen. She had stopped by unannounced after work and was currently camped out at my kitchen table.

“I enjoyed him,” I said, taking the glass from her outstretched hand. “There is a difference.”

“What does your gut say?” Shea asked taking a seat. Her strawberry blonde hair piled high on her head, she had changed into work out gear for another run.

“My gut says it was fun, really fun, amazing actually.” I sighed as I sipped my wine remembering the feeling of his hands against my body.

“None of that sounds bad, you realize that,” Shea said.

“Right, but what good can truly come from this. I promised myself to take a break from relationships. It’s getting weird at work and I’m afraid Marco has secrets, things he’s not telling me. The sex is good, but no sex is that good,” I said, lying to myself.

The sex was not just good, it was mind-blowing. My gut told me that the kind of sexual connection I shared with Marco wasn’t something to walk away from without a fight. My body wanted to stay. I craved him.

“Marco is complicated,” I said. “He is definitely more complicated than Dr. Mike.”

“Maybe it’s time you did something a bit . . .” Shea hesitated and grinned, “harder.” She burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it was too easy. Harder, you get it?”

“I get it, I get it,” I said, laughing. “You are a total goofball, you know that, right?”

“I am the best kind of goofball,” Shea said. “And you know I’m right.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said, still smiling. I took another drink and glanced at the clock. I still hadn’t responded to Marco’s dinner invite. “I’m afraid to trust him. Every time I see him that other woman shows up.”

“That is weird, I’ll admit that,” Shea said. “And he said she works for him, doing what?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You should see her Shea, she is gorgeous.”

“So are you.”

“I don’t trust him,” I said, cringing. “I think about all the shit my parents went through. The divorce was awful. My mother is still not functional.”

“You can’t keep denying yourself happiness based on the past. At least give Marco a chance to explain himself. Don’t punish the guy because of something your parents did.”

I arched an eyebrow in response. I hated it when people used my personal history against me. “So I trust the guy who has a security detail at his door and a list of woman allowed upstairs.”

“First, you said it was a bellboy named Todd and second, did you see this list?”

“No, but there is a book and my name was in it.”

“He’s a billionaire,” Shea said, slowing down for emphasis. “He probably gets wackadoodles trying to get upstairs into his place all the time. For all you know, you are the only woman on the list.”

I shrugged remembering Marco’s comments that morning about not being used to really wanting someone, the way he had looked at me with those sad brown eyes. I froze. “He seemed sad this morning,” I said, remembering his expression. “When we said good-bye he wanted me to stay but he also seemed a little upset. Isn’t that strange?”

“Well,” Shea said, eyes wide. “He does not seem like some asshole who is trying to use you and toss you aside. Will you just quit being an idiot and ask him about his secrets already? You have nothing to lose. You are always telling me to not over think things, to live my life, enjoy myself, live a little.”

“Am I supposed to take my own advice?” I laughed.

“You’re the best friend I’ve got this side of the mountains, and I just want you to be happy,” Shea reached across the table and grasped my hand. “You have seen some really sad stuff in your life, you see sad stuff every day. Give yourself some joy. Go, be with this guy again at least so I can live vicariously through you, do it for me, all right? Take one for the team.” Shea gave my hand a squeeze before taking the rest of her wine and pouring it into my glass. “You know helping you with your problems is going to interfere with my workout here.”

“You should go for your run,” I said, standing. I eyeballed the clock 6:00 p.m. I really owed Marco a response.

“Seriously I better run off some of my energy because God knows I don’t have anyone to fall into bed with like someone I know.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me and winked before heading out the door.

I took a deep breath and stretched as I walked towards my window. This was my life, apartment 304 in The Holiday Apartment building. Outside my window I had a luxury view of the alley and the neighbors run down backyard. It wasn’t a $1 million high rise, but it was my home, my space.

I wondered what Marco would think of it.

My body tensed at the idea of allowing him inside my space, my home, my bed. Would he judge me? Would he think it odd that I’d never upgraded after med school? I could afford something fancier but I liked The Holiday. I liked its brick exterior with crawling ivy, I liked the forest green trim and cream colored walls, and I liked the way the hardwood floors shone in the late afternoon. The Holiday had been a dance studio years before, then a boarding house for women only. Rumor had it the place was a brothel once upon a time as well, but I often thought that was just a rumor started by the owner to make the place seem more exotic.

It had seemed impulsive at the time, but I’d lived in this beautiful tidy apartment for almost five years and I had yet to regret a moment here. I also made it a habit to not bring men home with me. Dr. Mike had spent the night with me exactly three times, and every time had felt awkward to me. I always felt he didn’t belong with me in this room, inside these four walls.

I stood in the center of my sparely decorated apartment eyeballing my phone. It was 6:15 p.m., I really needed to cancel if I wasn’t going to be rude.

My fingers danced across my phone, it would just take a phrase, a simple dismissal.
Thanks for the flowers and the fun time, don’t contact me again. O.

Or I could postpone the inevitable with something like.
Need time to think. Thanks for the flowers. O.

The light outside changed quickly the sun disappearing so early in the wintertime, the night sky looked dark, and stars glittered overhead. I was instantly reminded of standing in Marco’s condo, our foreheads pressed against the glass. I had felt as though I could extend my fingertips into the sky and touch the stars, to feel their sparkling edges.

My phone beeped.

Pick you up at 6:45? Marco.

I stared at the screen. That was thirty minutes away. If I was going to cancel, the time was now. My fingers poised, I thought about Shea’s advice. I could get to know Marco, ask him about Veronica, tell him there could be no secrets between us.

That sounded a lot like a woman looking for a relationship, I thought to myself.

No, it’s dinner. Dinner did not mean sex. I was capable of going to dinner with Marco Amador and keeping my clothes on, wasn’t I?

It was time to find out.

I’ll be ready. O

I hit send. There was no turning back.

The buzzer rang at exactly 6:45 p.m.

“Be right down.” I said, my heart pounding. Marco and I were going to have a platonic evening together. At least this was the story I told myself as I gave my outfit a final look in the full-length mirror.

Black skirt and fitted black button down shirt, brown leather boots with knee high stockings with just a touch of thigh showing. To accessorize I wore a single long gold chain. My hair loose and wavy, I wore it pulled away from my face with a black head band. I thought I looked sexy but smart. I didn’t want to send Marco the wrong signal, or even worse the right one.

A touch up of my cat’s eyeliner and red lipstick. I blotted my lips twice, grabbed my red leather purse and jacket and locked the apartment door.

My heart raced a bit as I walked down the hall. I passed Billie and Bella on the second floor landing. From Billie’s red face, it was clear they were in the middle of a lively discussion.

“Madonna. My apartment is haunted,” Bella said, hands on her voluptuous hips. Bella lived on the first floor. We had been neighbors for a short while when she lived upstairs before insisting she needed an apartment with different
energy
. Originally from Venice, Bella was a source of constant entertainment. “There is some tragic unrest between the walls. Tortured souls in my bedroom.”

“You can have a séance, but you can’t set things on fire,” Billie said. “It’s not safe.” I could all but see her repressing the urge to roll her eyes.

“I just need to burn some of the spirit’s old clothes,” Bella said. “Set her free.”

“Have a good night ladies,” I said, smiling as I walked past. Billie and Bella would work it out. Bella is a big believer in the supernatural and must have offered to curse Dr. Mike for me about ten times after our break up. I told her it was unnecessary and to tell the truth, I was a little afraid of what might happen.

I looked out the lobby door and froze.

Marco. He took my breath away.

He stood outside the front door, bathed in a dim light from the single overhead lamp.