Surprise Delivery(13)

But until I can make some positive changes in my life – until I am able to get out of the toxicity of that office – I’m not entertaining the notion of being with anybody. It’s just not worth it to me.

“So, Lexi,” Dom says. “See anything you like at the buffet?”

“I haven’t been just yet,” I respond. “But, if you two would like some time alone –”

Bri laughs and shakes her head. “He’s not talking about food,” she says.

I look at him and his smile is wide and charming. Then, I realize what he’s talking about and I feel my cheeks flare with color – which makes me glad my mask hides most of my face. I can be so gullible and naive sometimes.

“So, you’re in on this with her?” I ask.

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “We both just want to see you happy, Lex,” he says. “You deserve to be pampered and spoiled.”

“I’d settle for respect and genuine care,” I reply.

“Well, that’s a given,” Bri says.

“Seriously though, some of the doctors around here are really good guys,” he tells me.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the market right now, but thanks,” I say.

“Maybe not,” he replies. “But, there’s nothing wrong with doing a little window shopping, is there?”

I laugh. “I suppose not.”

Somebody calls his name and he gives them a wave, then turns back to me. “Mind if I borrow your date for a minu –”

“Go,” I encourage. “You two lovebirds have fun. I’ll be just fine.”

They both give me a smile, then head over toward an older man who’s smiling wide at them. I’m genuinely happy for Sabrina. Dominic seems like a really good guy – which gives me some small measure of solace and hope that maybe, one day when I’m ready, I can find one too.

It’s only a small measure though.

Carrying my champagne flute with me like some protective talisman, I wander over to the food tables, doing my best to stifle the discomfort I’m feeling. As I look around and see so many distinguished, accomplished people – in a field I want to be a part of in the most desperate way – I not only feel sorry for myself, but I also feel like a fish out of water. I catch snippets of conversations going on all around me – doctors and nurses talking about this medical procedure or that one – and wish I could join them, if for no other reason than to learn.

I don’t, simply because I don’t want to appear uneducated or ignorant. I mean, I know I am. I’m smart, I’ll never say that I’m not. My brains are something I take pride in. But, when it comes to practicing medicine, I just haven’t finished my education. I’d never be able to keep up. For that, I feel a sense of shame stealing through me and I suddenly start to question why I even came tonight at all.

Not finding anything on the table that interests me, I turn – and run smack dab into a tall man. My champagne sloshes all over his tuxedo jacket and I am instantly horrified.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t –”

“No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” he jumps in, his voice deep and rumbling – like thunder rolling in over the desert.

“Your jacket,” I say. “I can pay for the dry cleaning.”

As he dabs at it with a napkin and gives me a small smile, I let my eyes roam, taking all of him in. He’s a gorgeous man. Tall – maybe six-foot-two or so – and judging by the rock-hard feel of his body when I ran into him, he’s tight and toned. He’s got an athlete’s body, though he’s not nearly as bulky as a football player – a swimmer perhaps. His dark brown hair is stylishly cut, he’s got that sexy stubble that’s always fashionable on his face, and his brown eyes are like two bottomless pools of the richest, most decadent chocolate around.

I give myself a little shake, surprised and dismayed at my reaction to him. My body is humming with an electricity I’ve never felt before and my thoughts are spinning a thousand miles a minute – and most of them are disturbingly wanton. Kicking myself inwardly, I try to rein my thoughts – and hormones – in. This isn’t like me. It’s not like me at all.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Duncan,” he says, looking up at me. “Duncan Clyburne.”

“Alexis Martin,” I tell him. “You can call me Lex or Lexi. Most of my friends do.”

A sly grin touches his lips. “So, we’re friends already?”

“Oh, well, no, I just meant –”

His laughter is deep, and I can feel the rumble of it in my bones. There’s a churning in my stomach and a flutter in my heart that makes it hard for me to focus on what he’s saying, let alone formulate a coherent reply. I feel like I’m standing there sounding like a bumbling idiot.

“I’m only teasing you,” he chuckles. “And you can call me Duncan.”

I clear my throat and look up at him – and being only five-foot-four myself, I have to look up at him. His eyes latch onto mine and I feel my breath catch in my throat.

“You’re not wearing a mask,” I murmur, trying to gather my wits about me again. “And you’re not decked out for Mardi Gras. I thought this was a Mardi Gras ball.”