A Family Affair(26)

And about five calls into their new relationship, she asked him what happiness meant to him. He said, “Successful surgeries, good sailing weather, minimal conflict in the neurosurgery department and it always feels good to be madly in love.” He seemed to add that as an afterthought.

She was in a fever of longing.

Finally the night of their dinner out arrived. They were going to a nice restaurant in the city and would walk around San Francisco after. She lived a quick commute to the city while he lived in the city so they arranged to meet. He waited outside the restaurant, and when she approached him, he smiled and stood stock-still, just staring at her. His eyes glittered. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

She smiled back and said, “So are you.”

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, giving her cheek a kiss. “Thank you for going out with me.”

And Jessie thought, Are you kidding me right now?

Here he was the most attractive, smartest, most successful doctor she knew and he was thanking her? She was just a thirty-one-year-old internist with a string of failed relationships in her past, and yet he was thanking her?

That fast, she was a goner.

He took her to an exquisite seafood restaurant in Union Square. It was elegant, dimly lit with plenty of dark corners and fancy specialty drinks. Other diners in the room would immediately know they weren’t married because of how intently they talked and talked. They entertained each other for a while with med school and internship tales.

They walked around the city after dinner, confessing to each other that it was such a nice change from last year when COVID had been raging and the streets and sidewalks were barren. Now there were more people about, though most restaurants had kept their occupancy lower than capacity. About half the people out and about still wore their masks in public, including Patrick and Jessie, especially in crowded places, though they had both received the vaccine and the virus was now so low in numbers it was no longer required. They talked a little about what a dark time that had been, especially for people in medicine. “For a while I was so lonely I answered the spam calls,” she told him, making him laugh, and he pulled her close for a squeeze.

“My house isn’t far from here,” he said. “I cleaned up before coming to get you just in case you’d accept my invitation for a nightcap. Or, if you’re not comfortable with that, I’d be happy to take you home.”

“Not comfortable? I know where you work,” she said with a laugh.

“I’m pretty harmless,” he assured her.

Nonetheless, she did a little math. They’d been talking on the phone for a week and change; she knew he was close to his mother and knew her name. He’d lost his father to a brain aneurism when he was young, which could account for his specialty. So he said, not her assumption.

“I bet you’re not, but I’d like to have a nightcap, and you can feel free to join me. I’ll be happy to Uber home.”

They took a cab to a Victorian atop a steep hill, a large home divided into three apartments. His was classically male, decorated in dark wood, off-white and tan paint, brown and beige furniture, a long curved sectional, a marble fireplace and a very impressive window seat from which there was a view of the city. She was drawn to that window seat and with a long, Ooh, she sat there and was captivated by the view.

“How about a brandy?” he asked.

“That sounds perfect. This is beautiful. How long have you lived here?”

“Just a few years,” he said. He kept talking from the kitchen. “One of the doctors I knew was renting it out right about the time I was looking for something and we came to an agreement in an hour. The closeness to the hospital and city—it was an easy decision. When he decided to sell, I was ready to buy.”

“I love it,” she said.

He returned with a brandy and sat down beside her. “What’s your schedule this week?”

“Monday through Thursday I have clinic and on Saturday I’m on call for the practice. You?”

“I’ll be working all week between clinic and surgery. But I’m not working tomorrow. Do you have any interest in going out on my boat? The weather is supposed to be perfect.”

“I’d love it. Aside from a ferry or party boat, I’ve never been sailing. I have no real experience.”

“But you’re willing to learn?”

“Absolutely, but I don’t want to be a lame sailor! Are you sure I wouldn’t be any trouble to take along?”

He grinned at that, shaking his head. His hand wandered to her shoulder and he gently massaged her. “It could be wonderful. We can just sail around the bay with all the other weekend sailors.”

She had already started to fantasize about sailing, pulling ropes and setting rudders and learning all the rigging moves. Then his hand was on her elbow, then stroking her arm. He moved close and his lips slowly touched her cheek. Then her neck. Then her lips. He took the brandy from her hand, put it aside and kissed her again. He investigated her mouth with his tongue and then took possession. His arms went around her, hers went around him, and their lips were locked together for a long, delicious kiss. Minutes, by her estimate. Several times his lips slid to her neck and he moved her long, dark hair away and inhaled her scent.

While he was busy kissing her, she was deciding what to do. Let him touch? She wanted to be touched. Desperately. It had been a long time. His caresses roved around a bit, sliding to her butt, her thighs, her knees. Then he whispered against her lips. “We could get more comfortable...”