Reluctantly in Love (16 page)

“Yes, six. And a white picket fence and a big ass minivan.”

My eyes flew open. “Really?”

He laughed. “No. But Gen told me you were worried I was looking for that.”

She was really going to get it. Big time.

“Are you?” I peeked an eye open. His face was so close that my gaze zeroed in on his lips. They were nice lips—full and soft, and kissable.

Those lips smiled. “Not at the moment. And, six is a really large number of kids to have in this economy.”

I closed my eyes. “Too many. But they make big ass Suburbans for that kind of thing.”

“Yes, they do.” There was laughter in his voice.

“Can you imagine how much it would cost to feed six kids?”

“Not to mention college tuition.”

“Exactly.” I smiled, and realized I’d relaxed onto the exam table. He was really good at putting his patients at ease.

Until he said: “I’m starting the sutures now. There won’t be any pain, just a little pressure and tugging.”

“Oh, gross,” I moaned, my stomach turning.

His hand was on my shoulder again. “It won’t take long. After the first few stitches you won’t even notice what I’m doing. You won’t need many.”

Not know what he’s doing? Not likely. I decided to distract myself. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“Internist.”

My eyes flew open. “You’re an intern? Like, a beginner?”

Not that I doubted his skill with a needle and thread, but the idea of a huge scar on my forehead worried me a little. Like, a lot. When my mother showed up for my birthday—if she really showed up—it would be the first thing she’d see and want to lecture me about.

“No. Internal medicine.”

I closed my eye again. “That sounds like a big deal.”

“I suppose to my patients it is. And to my mom. She cried after I passed my boards.”

“She cried? Your mom sounds really nice.” My dad hadn’t made it to my graduation. He was at some meeting for a new restaurant he was opening in Miami. The entire day I had to listen to my mother mumbling about what an ass he was.

“She’s great,” he said.

“So how old are you, anyway?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Wow, that’s old,” I teased.

“Thank you.” When I smiled, he said, “Easy now, or I’ll mangle your stitches.”

I zipped it so he could concentrate.

“All right. You’re all finished.”

I blinked my eyes open. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He stood and held out his hands. “Here, let me help you up.”

I let him pull me to a sitting position.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I lied. I hoped I never needed stitches again. “Thank you.”

“You’ll want to keep the bandage in place for a couple of days. Just make sure to check the wound for discolored oozing.”

“Oozing?” I grimaced. “That’s gross.”

“Infection is gross.” He smiled, removing his gloves and dropping them in the receptacle. “They’re dissolvable so you won’t need to return to have them removed. Unless there’s infection.”

He made me do a few tests to make sure I didn’t have a concussion—follow the pen light with my eyes, hold my arms out and touch my pointer fingers to my nose, and such. When he was done, he stepped closer to help me off the table. I pretended to need it. I landed on my feet in front of him, so close that I could feel the current between us, hot and intense. I didn’t want to move. I was lost in his eyes, and my pulse raced when he raised his hand to brush my bangs away from the small bandage he’d taped over the stitches.

I held my breath. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end, electrified. Did he feel it too? I nibbled on my bottom lip and struggled with what to do about it. This was new to me—I’d never felt anything so intense, this
almost-maybe, do-I-or-don’t-I
.

I could walk out of this room and stick to my guns, making him off-limits—my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. A whole hell of a lot of trouble, that’s what my gut kept telling me and had been telling me ever since Gen first mentioned setting me up with him.

Or I could live in this moment—as I did with every other aspect in my life—and trust this unexplainable attraction that made me lean into him just to feel his warmth.

I didn’t do well with missed opportunities. Two years ago I almost stopped for a lottery ticket at the gas station near my hair salon. I didn’t because I was running short on time and figured I could do it later. The next morning I woke up to see some old guy holding a winning ticket on the local news, purchased from the same gas station. That could have been my winning ticket.

What would suck even worse than not winning the lottery, would be if I died tomorrow of a slow brain bleed—
without a last kiss.
It had been so damn long since I kissed anyone; I felt the ache all the way down to my toes.

So I leaned up and went for it.

His lips were soft against mine, full and thorough as he kissed me. He didn’t question it—he wrapped his arms around me, his hands pressed to the dip of my lower back, pulling me against him. Everything about him was warm, strong, and I molded myself into his embrace as if I couldn’t get enough. And I couldn’t.

He felt too good—tasted too good.

Without a thought, I tightened my grip around his neck and lifted. His hands cupped my butt and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My insides warmed to a simmer, quickly heating to a boil.

This is happening!

His tongue slid against mine in a hot, silken caress. I nipped at his bottom lip, tasted it with my tongue before drawing it between my lips. Reason flew out the window; he kissed me so thoroughly that I forgot to breathe. My legs tightened around his waist, and I wanted to feel him—every part of him—against me.

A buzz vibrated through the room.
Hell yes, I’m buzzing!

He gently, but firmly, extracted himself and took his lips with him. Dazed, I blinked at the storm of blue gazing back at me as I slid down his chest to stand on my weak legs. The intensity of his stare consumed me.

Another buzz filled the room, and my cheeks grew hot. It was the intercom.

“What was that about?” he asked, his voice deep. A bedroom deep. A morning after deep.

Holy freakin’ Hell.
My body was on fire.

Brushing my hair behind my ear, I said, “Um, just in case I really do have a subdural hematoma.” The heat in his gaze faded just a little to make room for the smile in them. I added, “And die. Last kiss—you know.”

The smile enveloped his lips. “Last kiss. I hope it was worthy?”

“Damn straight,” I said, and the buzzer went off again.

“Dr. Walker. Your next appointment is here. Should I send a nurse back to help with your patient?”

His gaze was like warm syrup. “No need, Sarah. She’s good as new.”

“Better than new,” I whispered, and his smile deepened.

Some kind of strange gravitational pull wouldn’t let me step away. My hand was still pressed against his chest, because curiosity wouldn’t allow for anything else.

“Your next patient will be waiting in exam room three,” Sarah the mood-wrecker-receptionist said.

I played with the ends of my hair, brushing the locks over my shoulder while Chase’s thoughtful gaze studied mine, as if he were considering his next words.

“It was really good to see you again, Roxanna.”

“You too,” I said.
Like, really, really good to see you.

“Now you can go tell Gen the good news.”

He held the door open for me.

“The good news?” I asked.
That I jumped your bones in your examination room?

“That you don’t have a subdural hematoma.”

Now that I was all stitched up, the subdural hematoma thing sounded a little dramatic. My cheeks warmed. “Right. I’m sure she’s been worried about that.”

I lingered too long in the hallway, staring up into his insanely gorgeous gaze. I worried I suffered from a hero complex. But if that was true, I couldn’t think of a sexier man to don a cape. “Until next time.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “And hopefully the next time is not because you’re injured from ghost hunting.”

I smiled. “Hopefully.”

We parted ways in the hallway. I took a couple of steps before pausing to glance over my shoulder. He stood in front of an examination room, reading a medical chart. I faced forward again before I walked into a wall and made an ass of myself.

I liked Chase. A lot. So much, it surprised me. I hadn’t felt this way about a man in a really long time. He was different than any of the guys I’d dated in the past. It had nothing to do with him being a doctor, though his intelligence was definitely a turn on. But what continued to draw me in was his sense of humor. He regarded everything around him with ease. I liked the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. I liked that when he laughed, it started somewhere deep in his belly before resonating outward. Being with him was a strange mix of excitement and comfort.

Something about him made me throw caution to the wind. Next time I saw him I would have more self-control. There’d be no jumping him in an exam room.
That’s for sure.
I would behave.

Maybe.
Grinning, I sucked in a deep breath and let it out on a content sigh.

I had a sudden, exhilarating urge to hurry home and write.
That kiss . . .
Wow.

Chapter Fifteen

The next night the phone rang, rousing me from sleep. Groaning, I rolled to my side. The alarm clock on my night stand glowed blue—it was just after three in the morning. I had only been asleep for thirty minutes.

“Hello?” I answered and rubbed at my eyes.

A new case had come in, so I’d spent the last two nights staking out the husband of a wealthy executive. Tonight I’d snapped the money-shot she needed to prove he’d broken their prenup, and all I’d been looking forward to was a full night’s sleep.

“It was here.” Beverly’s voice shook. “In my house.”

I sat bolt-upright in bed. “Inside? The alien was inside?”

“Yes. I heard noises coming from the dining area so I got up and turned on all the lights. The patio door was wide open. I—I caught a glimpse of
it
in the dark before it ran around the house.”

I rooted through my dresser drawer, searching for a pair of sweats to pull on. Sure, the idea of aliens had been exciting in the beginning, but now it was getting creepy.

“That bastard is taunting me. Next time I see it, I’m going to blow it to kingdom come.” Her voice shook.

I almost tripped over my pants leg as I tugged them up. “What do you mean?”

“I have a shotgun.”

“Um, we’ll talk about that when I get there. I’m on my way over right now.” Hurrying through my bedroom door and into the hall, I adjusted the waistband of my pants. “Did you call the cops?”

“Yes. They’re on their way.”

“Good. I’ll be right there.”

I hadn’t found anything but a ghost at the Garrett Mansion, and the only responses I received from distributing Pretzels’ flyers around town and online were bogus sightings from reward-seekers. Tonight’s sighting was the first step in solving this crazy catnapping mystery.

An angry old lady with a shotgun made me nervous, though.

I hit Leo’s number on speed dial. The speaker filled the car with ringing and I placed the phone in the holster on my SUV’s dashboard.

When Leo answered, I said, “My catnapping case just got hot again. Some . . .
one
was in Beverly’s house.” I still wasn’t comfortable leaking the alien detail. It was too early in the morning for a lecture. “She called the police. Can you meet me at her place? Last time I had to talk to police they laughed at my business card.”

Leo chuckled. “Yeah. Text me the address.”

“You know, this wouldn’t be an issue if you’d let me put ‘Private Investigator’ on my card instead of ‘Private Investigator Associate’.”

“Yes, but that would be lying. And you haven’t completed the required field hours yet, or the criminal justice course needed to take the test.”

“Test-shmest. It’s all a technicality.”

“A required technicality,” Leo said.

“I’m enrolled. That should count for something.” I barely paused at the stop sign at the end of my street. The street was dark and quiet—no one else in my neighborhood was up at this hour. “Are you bringing Lexie?”

“She would kill me if I woke her up right now. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Thanks, ’cuz.” I hung up and concentrated on not breaking the speed limit.

There was one cop on-scene and parked in the driveway when I arrived. I parked at the curb in front of Beverly’s house and glanced around the neighborhood. The only other house lights on belonged to the crabby neighbor. The curtain in the side window shifted and I caught a glimpse of Meredith before the curtain dropped into place. Had the commotion woken her or had she already been awake?

Beverly and the uniformed cop stood together near the patio door when I walked into the house. The cop glanced at the camera with the wide scope hanging around my neck, then at my frumpy pajamas, before making eye contact. He appeared to be in his thirties and in good physical shape. A quick glance at his notes showed me he’d taken the prowler report seriously.

What he wasn’t impressed with was me, after introductions. He drew up to his full height and regarded me down the length of his nose. “The police force has this covered, ma’am.”

I gave him what I meant as a charming smile. “I’m sure you do, sir. But I’m here representing Beverly, regarding her missing cat.”

“Missing cat?” he looked to Beverly.

“My cat was stolen a week ago.” Beverly’s eyes grew misty. “I told the police about it, but they weren’t interested in Pretzels.”

“We don’t investigate missing animals, ma’am.”

“Which is why she came to me,” I said. “There were three prior incidents of a possible prowler before the cat went missing. Another prowler incident the night the cat disappeared, and now her house has been broken into again. I find that interesting, don’t you?”

“You’re a missing animal investigator?” He sounded so amused; I wanted to stomp on his black boot.