Hotshot Doc(49)

I have a hand tangled in her silky hair. I drag the pad of my finger across the sensitive skin just at the nape of her neck and she shivers. My dick strains against my pants. I could push us a little further. I could unzip the top of her dress and slide it off her shoulders. This could be a morning we’d never forget and maybe she knows that because she’s pulling back now, catching her breath.

Her lips are swollen and red.

Her dress sits slightly askew on her shoulder because I was tugging at it, wanting it gone, wanting to drag my hand down her smooth shoulder and collarbone, lower until I felt the small curve of her breast. Her chest is flushed with color and it matches her cheeks perfectly. The rest of her is still porcelain, and it’s a fitting combination: strawberries and cream. I want to lick her from head to toe.

Her hand presses against her lips like she’s checking to see if they’re still there.

I tug her hand away so I can lean forward and kiss her again. It’s meant to be suggestive. I take her bottom lip gently between my teeth and the move says, We could do this all day, Bailey, if only you’d let me.

Her eyes widen and she jerks back, out of reach. “Oh my god.”

That’s all she says, but the three words bring the real world crashing back down around us. We’re in my car, sitting outside Bailey’s house. She’s going to get out soon, disappear inside, and presumably enjoy the rest of her Sunday. Tomorrow, she’ll step back into New England Medical Center and she’ll be my surgical assistant, standing across from me at the operating table, off limits in so many ways.

She drags her hand down her face, and that’s when I notice she’s staring out the window, past my head. I realize then that the “Oh my god” she uttered wasn’t in reaction to our kiss. Fresh hope blooms in my chest.

“We have company,” she announces, biting down a smile.

I turn and sure enough, I spot a teenage girl’s face pressed against a large window in the front of Bailey’s house.

“That’s my sister.” She groans in embarrassment. “She probably saw all of that.”

I smirk and wave. The girl’s eyes widen before she ducks down out of sight.

“She’s gone now.”

“Yeah, right.” She grunts. “She’s probably just finding a better vantage point. I’d better get inside before she finds a pair of binoculars or something.”

So much for giving her a morning she’ll never forget.

I walk her to her door under the guise of chivalry, but really, I’m greedy for a few more minutes with her. I can’t take her hand or draw her back into a kiss; it doesn’t seem appropriate now that we’re outside. Whatever magic that was in my car is gone. I stuff my hands in my coat pockets in an attempt to keep them occupied, and then before I know it, we’re at her door.

In seconds, she’ll be gone and I’ll have an entire Sunday to myself. I’ll do what I always do: work out, go up to the office, prepare for tomorrow’s case. I’ll take work and inflate it to fill every crevice of my life so I don’t have to focus on all that’s lacking.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.” Her tone is self-deprecating. She thinks I won’t like where she lives. True, it’s an older neighborhood and the houses are a little rundown, but it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it seems like a nice place to call home. There’s a Christmas wreath hanging on her front door and a bright red welcome mat with HO HO HO printed across the center. I realize I haven’t put up a single decoration, but then why would I? It’s only mid-November.

“I like it—the house, I mean.”

She can’t look me in the eye, but she nods and rocks back on her heels. “Well thank you for the ride. I’d invite you inside, but…yeah…” She fidgets with her keys. “I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

Then she turns to go inside.

“Bailey—”

She shakes her head hard, cutting me off. “Be careful what you say—Josie is probably hovering on the other side of the door.”

“Oh, c’mon!” a voice says from inside. “Are you kidding me?”

The door swings open and I’m suddenly staring at a miniature version of Bailey. They have the same freckles, the same shock of pale blonde hair, though her sister’s is piled in a bun on top of her head. She’s scowling at us, but it’s cute, like a baby tiger practicing its growl.

She’s wearing mismatched pajamas and in her hand is an empty plastic cup. When she sees me staring at it, she jerks it behind her back.

“I was just getting some water,” she explains, feigning innocence.

Bailey groans and brushes past her to step inside. “No, you weren’t. You were trying to use that cup to hear us better.”

Her sister acts like the very idea of her spying on us is outrageous. “I was NOT. I would never do something like that to my own flesh and blood.”

“Uh huh, then why did I see your little face pressed against the window a second ago?” Bailey asks as she hangs her jacket on a hook by the door and tosses her purse on a nearby table.

“I thought I heard the ice cream truck coming.”

Bailey bursts out laughing. “You are so full of it!”

“Am not. And wait! Why am I the one under investigation? You two were just making out in broad daylight! I bet Ms. Murphy saw it too!”