Not Quite Forever (Not Quite series) (3 page)

“Which means I need to kiss some ass.”

Mary laughed. “You don’t kiss anyone’s ass.”

If it’s cute enough I will.

“Ten minutes, at the coffee shop.”

“Fine!” Mary twisted on her heel and waved behind her. “Be nice, Dr. Laurens.”

With a laugh, Dakota opened the door and slid inside.

The room was a postage stamp, and it appeared that Dr. Eddy had quite a following. The chairs were filled and several people were standing along the walls.

“. . . are you saying we should use duct tape to stop the bleeding?” The question came from a man in the fifth row.

Dr. Eddy stood leaning against the desk. His hands clutched the sides, his eyes met those of the man asking the question.

“I’m saying that if you’re the only one there and duct tape will keep your patient alive, then you damn well better use it.”

“But if the removal of the tape—”

“Skin issues don’t mean a whole lot on the dead, Doctor.”

The door behind Dakota squeaked as one of the conference volunteers entered and signaled that Dr. Eddy’s time was up.

His hazel eyes skidded past the volunteer and landed directly on Dakota.

He paused and the fierce passion he had for the discussion started to fade.

“That’s all the time we have now. I’ll be available to answer individual questions outside and throughout the conference.”

Funny, he was addressing the class, but looking at her.

The hair on Dakota’s arms stood on end.

Just like during her classes, some people moved from the room while others lingered.

Dr. Eddy stood where he was and pulled his gaze away from hers, directed it to those who approached him.

She eased her way to the front of the room, smiled at those who passed her and offered an appreciative glance.

“Thank you . . .” one of the conference attendees said while shaking Dr. Eddy’s hand. “One of the things that worried me most about joining Borderless Doctors you just blew out of the water.”

Dakota stood back and listened to the exchange.

She knew Dr. Eddy watched her out of the corner of his eye as he gathered his material and shoved it in his briefcase.

“Why did you choose emergency medicine, Dr. . . . ?”

“Daniels. Sounds cliché but I wanted to help the helpless. The ones in severe crisis.”

“Let me guess . . . politics, insurance . . . malpractice . . . everything gets in the way of you doing the right thing for the patient?”

Dr. Daniels let loose a long sigh. “Exactly!”

Dr. Eddy met Dr. Daniels’s eyes. “You’re no different than anyone else in the room. A few weeks of your life a year and you’ll remember why you lived on coffee during your residency.” He slipped the younger doctor a card and shook his hand. “We have our own set of politics, but it’s nothing like it is in your paying job.”

Dr. Daniels glanced at the card and walked away with a smile.

Another suit-wearing man, probably another doctor, lifted his hand to Dakota so that she might have her turn with Dr. Eddy.

Walt stood, snapped his case together, and waited.

“I believe I owe you a drink, Doctor.”

Somewhere behind his eyes, a smile grew . . . but it had yet to make an appearance.

“It’s a little early for alcohol, Miss Laurens.”

He remembered her name. The thought had her holding back a smile.

Beside them, the man waiting to speak with Walt watched, and Dakota wasn’t oblivious to the scene and how it might play out to an unsuspecting audience.

All of it . . . every second recorded in her brain as a scene from one of her novels.

Sometimes life did imitate art.

“Coffee is a drink.”

There was his smirk.

Damn it was beyond sexy.

“You’re talking about coffee?” He didn’t look convinced.

She made a motion of looking at her watch. “I have a meeting with my editor . . . perhaps something with more punch . . . later?”

His full-watt smile brought fire.

“You do owe me.”

Dakota lifted her chin. “Seven?”

Dr. Eddy agreed with a mere tilt of his head and Dakota turned and walked away.

Chapter Three

He needed to know . . . couldn’t stop himself from taking a little walk through the second floor.

The hallways and corridors were overflowing with massive posters featuring authors and their work. Tables lined the walls with bookmarks, pens, and postcards. Walt dipped his hand into a basket and pulled out colorful condoms with an author’s website printed on the packaging.
Sexy Swag to Live By
. He found himself pocketing a couple of giveaways, telling himself it was for the guys he worked with back in California. Lip gloss, emery boards, squishy stress balls, colorful trinkets of all sizes and flavors . . . romance authors had healthy imaginations. He turned down another hall to find it filled with the same.

This was Dakota Laurens’s world. The overload of half-naked bodies had a strange way of turning up the heat in the room. From five yards away, Walt zeroed in on her name. The
D
scrolled on the page, the ass of a naked woman, her head tossed back with dark hair flowing down her back while a man leaned over her, lips to neck, filled the cover. “
New York Times
Bestselling Author” blasted above the banner.

Surrender to Me.

He read the title and had a strong desire to find the nearest bookstore to grab a copy.

Women, and a few men, slowly trickled from the conference rooms and began to funnel into the hall.

“Dr. Eddy?”

He heard his name, twisted toward the voice calling him.

“Did they mess up your room again?”

The blonde, Dakota’s friend, glanced behind him and began to grin.

He was so busted.

“No . . . ahh, I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Mary,” she said, not offering her last name. “It’s a great cover . . . don’t you think?”

Walt turned toward Dakota’s banner. “It certainly catches the eye.”

“It’s her best seller to date. And that’s saying something.”

Someone bumped into him and he moved aside for the women passing.

A heavy-set fortysomething stopped midtracks and turned a smile his way. “Oh, are you one of the models?”

“Excuse me?”

“Alice!” she said to the woman at her side. “Take my picture with him.” She juggled her bag and removed a cell phone from her back pocket.

“He’s not—”

Alice shoved in and suddenly Walt felt the woman’s arm slip around him. The impromptu paparazzi moment was met with a flash.

“Thanks,” the woman managed right as he felt a distinct pinch just south of his waist.

He blinked, repeatedly, and stared at the women as they disappeared around the corner.

Mary began laughing, the chuckle started low and built. Walt felt himself smiling right along with her. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

“Entertaining! That’s what that was. Dakota isn’t going to believe it.”

“No, really? What?”

Mary stepped closer. The hall was neck-to-neck women now, some pushing in between them to reach the free swag on the tables.

“There are about a dozen models running around, brought in by the magazine hosting the convention. Cover-model types that pose with the women for pictures.”

Someone beside Mary turned when she heard the word
picture
. A redhead with more aggression than the previous woman and too much makeup for Walt’s taste turned her attention his way. “Oh, what’s your name?”

“Walt,” he said on impulse as he tried to ignore her lean body as she pressed it against his.

She squeezed her eyes together as if his name made her look twice. “You have the businessman-suit thing going. Very sexy.” She leaned in, snapped a picture herself with her cell phone, blew a kiss, and walked away.

All the while Mary laughed.

“I think I need to get out of here.” He said the words aloud but his feet didn’t move.

“Hey, Mimi,” Mary called over her shoulder.

“Can you take our picture?” She handed Mimi her cell.

Walt lost his smile while Mary glanced behind him, pushed him to where she wanted him, and posed. “Smile, Doctor,” she told him. “Your friends back home are going to want to see this.”

They would.

He smiled.

Dakota’s phone buzzed right as her editor, Loretta, ordered a salad. “Is it too early for wine?” the woman asked.

Dakota laughed and turned to the waiter. “We’ll have a bottle of champagne and two glasses.”

“We have several to choose—”

She waved her hand in the air, cutting him off. “Your most popular under a hundred fifty bucks.”

“One of the many reasons I love you,” Loretta said as she pushed her beyond-petite frame into the plush seat.

“How many times do I have to tell you . . . when the publisher is paying the bill, tell them I asked for the wine by name. What are they going to do . . . say no?” Dakota knew they wouldn’t rack up half the bill on a lunch date as they would a dinner. Loretta was a young mother, a kick-ass editor who simply “got” Dakota and didn’t cut loose often. In the beginning of their relationship, it was Dakota who worried about stepping on toes. Those roles reversed when her sales blew through the ceiling and every publisher and their brother called her agent and asked for her next three books. Mumford Publishing topped her last advance with a special seven-figure deal that kept her and Loretta in a working relationship. A publisher willing to part with that many zeros wasn’t going to complain about a bottle of bubbly.

But because Dakota really valued Loretta’s friendship, she leaned in and said, “You let me know if there’s ever
any
pressure to cut back on these lunch dates.”

“Oh, Dakota.”

Loretta was corporate to the core but as easy to read as a diary with a paper lock.

Dakota’s phone buzzed again, but she ignored it.

“
Succumb to Me
has officially been accepted. Not that there was any question.”

Dakota broke off an edge of a cracker. “I never assume.”

“Are you kidding? Your fans are clamoring for the end of this series.”

They were. The question was what was next?

“Mumford would like to see you extend the series.”

Dakota released a sigh. She knew this was coming. Desi, her agent, had told her as much in an earlier conversation.

The waiter arrived with the wine, poured them both a glass. “To
Succumb
,” she toasted. “May it be as successful as the others.”

Loretta tilted her glass back, drained half of it. “About the next book.”

“This series is finished. Mathew and Cassidy are solid . . . a baby on the way.” God knew they screwed enough in the books to warrant another generation.

“Your fans . . .”

“Half would be happy it continued, the other half ticked that I’m squeezing another book out of the series.”

“You know we’ll work with you and Desi to make it worth your time.”

Dakota lifted a hand. “Stop. OK . . . I get it. Sex is the new vampire and you want more. It would be almost impossible for me to write outside of erotic right now . . . but I want to work on new people. New characters. Who knows . . . they could be even bigger than Mathew and Cassidy.”

When her phone buzzed again, she took the diversion and pulled her phone from her purse.

Facebook had lit up . . .

Mary . . . in all her blondeness stood beside a very sexy Dr. Walt Eddy with
her
banner poised behind them. The caption in the picture tagged Dakota and simply stated,
Found a doctor in the house checking out our favorite author
.

Her mind that took in everything went into overdrive. A single doctor . . . a volunteer . . . what makes him tick? Why is he single? He’s gotta be in his thirties. Mid or earlier . . . a little reserved but not the private practice type that lived for billing codes and top dollar.

“Earth to Dakota.”

Loretta waved a hand between them.

“Sorry.” She picked up her glass. “Where were we?”

Dr. Eddy became the
where’s Waldo
of the convention. Dakota followed the Twitter feed with the hashtag #sexydoctor and found several images snapped by convention attendees. Because Mary had linked her name to the picture, she had easy access to the gossip following the doctor at their conference.

Two steps into the bar and Dakota found herself surrounded by friends, colleagues, and faithful fans who she only saw at conventions. She allowed herself a good thirty minutes before she was to meet up with Dr. Eddy for the obligatory drink.

Unlike the night before, tonight people were three deep at the bar, and getting said drink might prove difficult. There were plenty of suit-wearing doctor types with their ties missing and their wedding bands stowed in a pocket.

Do they really think we can’t see the tan lines on their ring fingers?

Dr. Eddy didn’t have that tan . . . yet his skin tone told her he lived somewhere with plenty of sun. The
I’m married and stepping out
vibe just didn’t fill Walt’s aura. Not that she was a huge fan of the aura, but there was something to be said about the energy surrounding people.

“Did you hear about Jen Adkins?” her friend Cherry asked.

“A little something.” Dakota inched her way closer to the bar.

“She hosted a small party in her suite and damn near got kicked out of the hotel for making too much noise,” Cherry told her.

“Last night?”

“No . . . like an hour ago.”

“It’s early.” Who bitched about a party in the early evening?

“I know. That’s one for the books.”

Dakota squeezed between the fray and waved down the bartender as he sailed by. “Whiskey on the rocks.”

The only acknowledgment was a quick wave.

Mary slid up beside her, wine in hand. “There you are.”

“Hey. You’ve been busy today.”

“You saw that?”

“Did I see an overwhelming thread of a certain doctor . . . yeah, I saw.”

“Walt was such a good sport.” Mary turned and gave Cherry a quick hug.

“It’s Walt now?”

“That’s his name. He doesn’t really like being called Doctor. Said it reminded him of his dad.”

I knew it!
His dad was a doctor. Walter Sr. perhaps?

“Miss?” the bartender handed her a drink and a bill. She signed, placed her room number, and moved away so another needy conventioneer could take her place.

“What was Walt really doing on the second floor?” Dakota tilted the glass to her lips, savored the warm flow down her throat.
Nice.

“I found him staring at your banner.” Mary lifted two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

What woman didn’t like the thought of a man working hard to figure her out?

“Then random women stopped him, snapped pictures. You know how it is up there.”

“Some of those women are crazy,” Cherry added.

Dakota raised her glass toward Cherry’s. “With enough of these, you are, too.”

Instead of denying anything, Cherry lifted her glass in salute. “Who is he?” Cherry asked.

“One of the doctors from the other conference,” Mary offered. “The hotel mixed up his room with Dakota’s this morning.”