Love M.D.
By Rebecca Rohman
Love M.D.
Copyright
© 2015 by Rebecca Rohman.
All rights
reserved.
No
part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic
form without written permission.
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This
book is fictional. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does
not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their
content.
For
information, email:
[email protected]
Book
& Cover Design By
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All rights
reserved.
For Laura
Rebecca
Rohman is a wife and designer currently living in the northeastern United
States. She was a sales manager for a tourist magazine, and for many years
prior, she was involved in marketing for a jewelry company and fine wine distributor.
About fifteen years ago, she started writing her first romance novel purely
to entertain herself. It was not until early in 2012 when she decided to
complete and release it.
Uncorked
was published in February, 2013.
Love,
Lies & The D.A.
, her second novel, was published a year later.
Love
M.D.
is her third release.
For
Updates and Other Information
Visit My
Website at
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Contents
Table Of Contents
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
The End
To My
Husband, Family & Friends
: Thank you all for your continuous love, and encouragement.
To my husband, your never-ending support is something for which I am forever
grateful. I would never be able to do this without your immense support.
To My
Beta Readers – Karen Louise Rohde Færgemann, Lio, Jonel Boyko & Sabrina
Nedelea
: Thank you for your input, time, valuable contribution and your
feedback. You all help me grow as a writer. I appreciate you all.
Laura
:
Day by day, you continue to teach and mentor me. Your intellect and great
insight is beyond priceless. I will always be grateful to you for the impact
you have had on my life.
Dr.
Vivian Jolley Bea, M.D.
Your expertise has helped make this book a reality.
Thank you for taking valuable time, especially at such an important time in
your life, to help me with some of the details of this book.
My Street
Team
: In your own way, you have each helped and contributed to my success—Aarati
Satheesh, Angela Hamlyn, Bridgette Ann Bandell., Brittany Alexander, Brooklynn
Kroner, Catherine Ketner Bates, Charmaine Butler, Cleo Scornavacca, Dana Lamothe,
Jeana Andrews Williams, Johnnie-Marie Howard, Kelly Fletcher, Kirstie Hicks,
Michelle McGinty, Nevena Read, Retta L. Rusaw, Sabrina Nedelea, Tina Leonard
& Tricia Gower Wilkins. I can’t say thank you enough for giving up some of
your time, some of you daily, to help make my books a success.
The Following
People
: A big thank you to you all. You take time, many of you every day,
to contribute to getting my name and my books out there and ask for nothing in
return. You will never know how much I appreciate all you do for me. THANK YOU.
Ashley Jasper, Barbara Gartman, Chris Kelly, Colleen Farrell, Dana Gallie, Jen
Wildner, Jennifer Rillera, Jessica Jocher, Kylie Liane MacKenzie, Laura Hutton,
Lindsay Errington, Liz Castillo & Michelle McGinty.
Bloggers
:
Last but not least, thank you to all the bloggers who support me in my endeavors
every day. Whether it is through reviews, spotlights, author takeovers, et
cetera, thank you for all you do.
Parts of
this book
are inspired by true events.
As an accomplished interior designer in San Francisco’s Bay Area, Zoë
Jenkins is used to transforming empty spaces into masterpieces. She leaves
little square footage in her personal life for anything outside of her thriving
business and a renewed relationship with her twin brother. After a decade spent
ripped apart by circumstance and an entire ocean’s distance, she depends on no
one but him. Until a sexy surgeon walks into her life.
Although Zoë can’t deny her attraction to the charming and benevolent
Morgan Drake, he’s on her mental list of everything she should avoid. Past
experience taught Zoë that dating clients compromises business. Add a
not-yet-dissolved marriage to the mix and
Doctor Hottie
is definitely
Doctor
Off-limits
.
Dr. Morgan Drake is surprised at the undeniable chemistry he feels when
he’s in the same room as Zoë. The strikingly beautiful and solitary designer he
hired to fill his new-start, new-city home makes it abundantly clear there will
never be anything between them. But twelve years of medical school breeds
persistence. He sets out to persuade the pants off Zoë Jenkins and show her
what her empty spaces are missing.
Intense passion and amazing sex have a way of masking secrets—secrets
that unravel a dangerous web of fraud, corruption and conspiracy that turn Zoë’s
quiet spaces into a world where nothing is as it seems. With her life on the
line, the good doctor responsible for her fiercest betrayal might just be the
only one worthy of her finest interior masterpiece—this time, of her heart.
What a hot
summer Monday. With the Golden Gate Bridge
in sight, my brother Zach calls. Change of plans. Since he’s home early from a
business trip to Greece, I agree to meet him at one of our spots, The
Waterfront Café. I turn my Volvo C70 Convertible around and head back to the
city by the bay.
Twenty minutes later, I join my
brother in the outdoor section of the café that overlooks the bay. The sun has
started its descent. The San Francisco Belle, with her stern paddlewheel and
elaborate fretwork, floats by.
Zach and I run a design,
architecture and construction business together. He had travelled to Greece to
check out a hotel site that our largest client, and my friend Jada Kole—formerly,
McLean, is building.
“Why are you back so soon?” I ask,
after a warm embrace.
“Do you want the good news or the
bad news first?” he responds with a sweet smile.
I know I’m not going to like this. “Good
first.”
“The hotel is ahead of schedule…”
“I sense a
but
coming.”
“I promised Jada that we would have
the property ready in time for next summer.”
“You what?”
“Don’t be mad at me. You know she
drives a hard bargain.”
“You won’t be the one working
overtime to make sure all the detailing and finishing touches are complete. Not
to mention, it’s not like it’s just down the street.” We pause as the waiter places
some fried calamari and rock shrimp on the table between us.
Zach continues, “I know. But I
promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“How? By buying—”
My phone rings before he has the
chance to answer. I glance at the screen. “Speaking of the devil, it’s Jada. Hello.”
“Hi Zoë.”
“Hey, doll. Zach was just telling
me about his promise. How are you?”
“I’m great. A little tired.”
“What’s up?”
“I think I might have a new client
for you. However, you’d need to see him tonight. He’s leaving the country
tomorrow for two weeks.”
“Do you know anything about him?”
“Not really. I didn’t meet him.
Jonathan met him at an event at our waterfront property this evening, and when
he saw your work, he asked for your contact information. He just moved here
from Seattle. It looks like he purchased a house at Belvedere that might be in
need of some aesthetic appeal.”
“He didn’t give any clues to what
he wanted done, did he?”
“Sorry, he didn’t. He sounds older—somewhat
easy going. I got the impression that he may be one of those clients that might
let you have your way.”
I chuckle at her response and get
his information from her. We end up in a bit of an extended conversation while
I eat.
“What is it?” Zach asks, as the
server clears our plates.
“She has a new client that I have
to see tonight. He’s leaving the country tomorrow.”
“Nice,” he replies, winking at me. “
He
…”
Zach sings.
“Give me a break. She said he was
older… and besides, I don’t need a
he
in my life right now, much less
one that may be a client.”
“You know batteries and your
fingers can only do so much.”
I burst out in laughter. “Well batteries
and fingers don’t cheat.”
“It’s been two years, Zoë. Don’t
you think you’ve spent enough time being angry and cynical about men?”
“I’m not angry and cynical about
men. Look how nice I treat you,” I take the bill from the waiter. “Dinner’s on
me tonight.”
“Thanks. I’m not talking about me, and
you know that.”
“Like you’re doing so much better in
that department. You’re thirty-four and not married or settled, just like me,
so who are you to judge?”
“You know I’m not judging, little sis.
I just want you to find someone who makes you happy. And I’m not talking about
the types you see for a few weeks and banish from your life when things get too
serious.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. I have a
feeling there’s something going on with you. I’ll pull it out of you some other
time.” I rise to my feet and kiss Zach gently on his cheek. “I have to go. I
love you much…”
“I love you more. Call me later.”
Belvedere. The name
of my next stop reminds me of my
life growing up in France. Seeing the small island in the distance as I drive
along Tiburon Boulevard, my mind drifts back to my time in the small village
just outside the Côte d’Azur named Belvédère.
Belvedere, San Francisco,
however,
is
a very affluent community on a little island outside of San
Francisco. I’ve had clients in the area in the past, but not recently. I
navigate through the narrow street then pull up to the stately open gates. As I
drive down the steep, zigzag driveway, it almost feels like I’m driving down
Lombard Street in San Francisco.
Soon, the elegant contemporary with
well-manicured grounds shows her beautiful face. With an attractive stone front
and cubed windows that touch the gables, I know the inside of this house will
be flooded with light. Through the trees at the bottom of the hill, San Francisco
Bay shimmers.
Glancing at my watch, I notice I’m a
few minutes early. I take a second to make sure my satchel and portfolio are in
order and touch up my make-up.
I knock on the door and tap my boot
lightly on the beige and grey slate porch. I’m ready to get this consultation
over and done with. I love my job, but after driving to San José today plus
meeting three other clients, I need a bed.
I ring the doorbell. When I get no
response, I ring a second and third time. I know someone must be home because
faint sounds of
OneRepublic’s
Counting Stars
filter
around the glass entry doors. A black motorcycle and a black Tesla are parked in
the attached garage. In a detached garage at the end of the driveway is a black
Land Rover. Rows of vibrant rainbow-colored paper line the walls, a total
contradiction for a lover of all things black.
Just as I’m about to pull my cell
from my pocket to search for the number Jada gave me, I hear a distant, “Just a
minute,” from inside.
A younger man, probably a year or
two older than me, opens the door. He’s practically naked—dripping wet with a buff
and rugged body, black hair and hazel eyes. Despite my five-inch heels, he
hovers at least six inches above me. Wearing only swimming trunks, he’s hot as
hell. My first thought is Zach telling me “
your fingers can’t do the job
forever
.”
Perhaps he can.
I find myself distracted by the specimen
that stands before me, and for a second, I forget why I’m here.
“Yes. May I help you?”
His deep voice snaps me back to reality.
“Oh, yes. I’m here to see Doctor Drake, please.”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
Surprised, I ask, “You’re Doctor Morgan
Drake?”
“That would be me.” A dimple
appears on his left cheek.
I feel a bit warm inside.
Oh là
là.
“Oh… I’m sorry. I was
expecting someone much older. I’m Zoë,” I say, outstretching my hand to shake
his.
He hesitates, “Zoë?”
“Yes, Zoë Jenkins… your eight o’clock.
Jada Kole set this up.”
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” he says, raking
his fingers through his wet hair. “I thought you’d be here at eight in the
morning.”
“She must have misunderstood. I
apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back then,” I say, about to
turn away.
Quickly, he takes my hand then
brings his other hand in to sandwich mine. “No, Zoë.”
His hold is firm yet tender, and
despite the dampness that surrounds my hand, an unusual warmth accompanies his
grasp. Our eyes meet, and for an instant, we stare at each other in silence. At
the same moment, we pull away. The connection between us perplexes me, and a
few butterflies flutter inside me.
“You’re here. Please come in.” He
steps aside and gestures me in, directing me around the droplets of water that
circle his feet.
“Are you sure? It’s not a problem
for me to return in the morning.”
“I’m sure. If you’ll excuse me for
a moment, I’ll go throw some clothes on. Then we can talk.”
Pas à cause de moi, je l’espère...
[Not on account of me, I hope…]
“Please… make yourself as
comfortable as possible,” he says before heading up the glass staircase.
As he walks away, I take a moment
to admire the delightful creature that climbs the stairs—his firm ass, well
defined back, and from that tan, I guess he spends a lot of time in that pool I
see in the distance. Every contour starting from the top of his broad shoulders
to his well-toned calves clinches as he climbs the stairs, and I feel the heat
rise in my body.
Très, très, très, sexy…
Walking into the empty space, it
immediately becomes apparent why I’m here. With the exception of a small set of
table and chairs, the space is empty. The floors are unfinished, and wires poke
through the walls where sconces should be. A turquoise lit pool with a beautiful
cove fills the patio’s foreground, while Angel Island provides a picturesque
backdrop. In daylight, the bay’s waters would be a vivid aqua, but now that the
sun has mostly set, everything is in silhouette against purple and pink skies.
Looking out at the illuminated pool,
I have visions of
Dr. Hottie
stepping out with water trailing down his
firm, muscular form. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice what a
beautiful stud he is. I wonder if there is a wife or girlfriend in the picture.
That said, since my marriage to my
ex, Todd, ended, I made myself a promise that I’d never get involved with a
client again. Todd was the owner of a restaurant that Zach and I were
remodeling. Two years and six months later, after a six-month marriage, I
caught him cheating on me. I immediately asked for a divorce, and he tried to
ruin my business and me in the process.
“I’m so sorry about this
misunderstanding.” Morgan’s deep voice behind me interrupts my thoughts. He
speaks clearly, pronouncing each word to perfection, like someone who grew up
in a household where slang wasn’t allowed. Sharp contrast to my so-called
strange
accent,
and over the years, I might have picked up a bad word or two…
“No worries,” I reply, turning to
face him.
He’s now wearing faded blue jeans
and a grey t-shirt that hugs his biceps. His wet hair is combed to the back,
showing off his beautiful hazel eyes. A few tendrils fall onto his forehead,
and as he pushes them back, on his third finger, I see the light ring of
untanned skin where it looks like a wedding band might have been.
As I look up toward him, I realize
he’s staring at me. I can’t read his lingering gaze. I feel the heat in my
cheeks and immediately look away.
“Divorced,” he says, answering my
thoughts.
“Fresh start?”
“Something like that. I’m from here,
originally. I guess I’m just returning home.”
“Great. So tell me… how do I fit into
your future? I mean, picture? I mean how do I fit into the picture?” I quickly
correct myself, pulling my gaze away from his stare.
“You see yourself in my future?” He
asks with a flirtatious grin.
I almost drop the notepad I’m
holding but quickly regain my composure and hold onto it. I’m nervous like
crazy on the inside, but I hope like hell that I’m doing a good job of putting
up a tough-as-nails exterior. “Let me rephrase that. How can I help you with
your fresh start?”
“Well, as you can see, everything.
Anything you do will be better than what’s here. The only room that is
functioning to capacity right now is the master bath and my swimming pool—if
you can call that a room.”
“One of your must haves?” I tip my
head in the direction of the pool.
“Couldn’t do without it,” he
laughs. “I have this intense obsession with swimming.”
“Good to note. You’ll need me to
work on the entire house?”
“Yes. Is that possible?”
“Anything is possible. Depends on
your budget and timeline. Why don’t you take me on a tour and explain your
needs to me.”
He looks at me and raises his brow.
Goose bumps cover my skin.
“Yes,” he says. “My needs… yes, let’s
get to what those needs are.”
I’m thankful when he heads to the stairs
because, again, I’m blushing like a stupid schoolgirl. I need to get a hold of
myself. He’s a client.
As he takes me on a tour of the
four-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath contemporary, I see it has great bones. I
know that with a few touches here and there, I could really make this place
sparkle. Right now, it’s a clean slate. I’m excited to hear his thoughts on how
he’d like to see this place completed.
In the master, a lone box spring
and mattress occupies the center wall with no other furniture. A massive wall
of cube windows kisses the vaulted ceilings and overlooks the water view. Ten
to twelve suitcases occupy another wall in the room.
“I assume you have some furniture
pieces on the way that you’d like me to use?”
“No.”
I do a double take when I hear his
response. “No?”
“No,” he says seriously. “Start
from scratch, everything new.”
Bizarre, but I move along, not
wanting to impose. “What about bedding, appliances, dishes?”
“All new. I have some artwork in crates
in the garage but that’s it. And I’ll need you to create a special room for all
my books.”
“How many books are we talking?”
“Enough to fill the walls of a 9 x
14 foot room.”
“Wow. What about your design style?
Would I be correct in assuming that you’d want things kept in the style of the
house?”
“Yes. You have free reign. Do
whatever you want. I saw what you did at Bleu Resorts, and you had me sold.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but two
people can look at the same room and respond to very different things. Was it
the ambiance, the colors, the fabrics, the furniture?”