Renaissance: A Contemporary Erotic Romance (Iris Series Book 5) (9 page)

“Hey,” he said, sounding a little off.

She paused, then said, “Everything okay?  You sound tired.”

“Just a rough night.”

“Sorry.  The surgeries?”

There was silence then she heard him sigh into the phone.  “We lost a patient tonight.”

She made a sympathetic sound.  “I’m sorry, Drew.”  She allowed a moment of silence to pass.  “You didn’t have to call me tonight.  You must be exhausted.”

“I wanted to call.”  More silence passed and Tiffany couldn’t help but feel elated that he wanted to talk to her.  He should’ve been calling Katrina.  Maybe he had already.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

“There isn’t really anything to say.  There was just too much damage.  We all did what we could.  Sometimes it’s hard for the families to understand that we’re not God.  There’s only so much you can do.  Doesn’t make it any easier, though,” he mumbled.  It sounded like he was rubbing his face.

“Where are you right now?”  She wished she could hug him.  She couldn’t imagine the stress a surgeon had day in and day out, especially when he specialized in trauma and gunshot wounds.

“I’m in a cab on the way home.  Are you at your place?”

“Yeah,” she said, snuggling deeper into her pillows.

“You’re on the Upper West side, right?”

“Yeah.”  She swallowed, wondering if he was going to say what she thought he would say.

He did.

“Do you mind if I stop by for a minute?”

Holy shit.
  She looked down at her jeans and silk top she was still wearing from the girls’ night.

“Not at all,” she said, slightly flustered and rattled off her address to her place on West 89
th
Street.  She heard him give it to the cab driver. 

“I’m not far from you actually.  I live on West 70
th
near Broadway. What’s it like in your neck of the woods?” he asked conversationally.

“It’s nice.  Quiet.”

“Good.  I need quiet.  I should be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”  She swallowed her nerves down.  “See you soon.”

They disconnected and she catapulted up out of her bed, straightening her comforter and then running to the bathroom to check her face and wet her cheeks.  Her face felt on fire, her eyes were overly bright.  She ran to the kitchen next to get another bottle of wine ready, opening it so it could breathe.  She knew he was a wine drinker.  After that, she pulled out the cookies that the girls hadn’t finished.  Maybe he could use a little comfort food.

Breathe, Tiff.
  She could almost hear the girls in her head.

Her buzzer went off a few minutes later and she went to the call button to let him in.  She looked down at herself, brushing down the raspberry colored flowy silk top she had on with her skinny jeans.  She was barefoot.  Should she put socks on?  She started to make her way to the bedroom to grab some when she heard the knock. 

Tiffany fluffed her hair, rubbed her lips together, and then turned the knob to open the door.

Drew stood before her in jeans and white sneaks, wearing a long sleeved white Henley covering his chest.  The ribbed shirt showed off his muscles to perfection.  Her mouth went dry.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he said quietly, smiling softly.

“Come on in.”  She let him walk in then closed the door.

“Great building,” he said, dropping his messenger bag on the floor.  He turned to her.  “Are you sure it’s okay I just stopped by?”

Um, yeah.
  “Of course,” she said sincerely.

“I just needed to see a friendly face.”  His mouth kicked up.  He really did look tired.

“You look like you need a hug.”

“If you’re offering, I’ll gladly take one.”

Don’t overanalyze anything.  Don’t push.  Just be a friend.

She looked into his eyes and stepped up to him as he put his arms out then pulled her close.  She was immediately surrounded by him while he nuzzled her hair.  She wrapped her arms around his neck with his around her waist and sighed contentedly.

He smelled good, like freshly laundered clothes.  Clean.

“Thanks,” he murmured into her ear.  “I needed this.”  He pressed her hard to him, his whole front touching hers, from toes to shoulders.

“That’s what friends are for,” she said back, and she meant it.  She wondered why he wasn’t going to Katrina.

He stepped back, looking drained but peaceful.

“Do you want some wine and cookies?” she smiled.

His eyes widened.  “Does Superman wear a cape?”

She chuckled.  “Go sit on the sofa.  I’ll bring it in.”

“I’ll help.”  He followed her to the kitchen.  “You’re place is nice.  Very you.”

“Thanks.  How is it ‘very me’?” she asked, curious, just making conversation.

“Classy, beautiful.  With a touch of comfort.”

She looked at him after she put the wineglasses on the counter. 
Don’t babble, don’t babble, don’t babble…
  “That was sweet.”

He shrugged.  “It’s true.”

They grabbed their wine and dessert, and went into the living room, getting comfortable on the twill burgundy sectional she’d gotten from Pottery Barn.  She tucked her feet under her, sitting a couple of feet away from him, resting the wine glass on the side of her thigh.

“So.”  She let the word hang a moment while she toyed with the stem on her glass.  Eventually, he turned his head and his eyes met hers intensely.

“So.”  He continued watching her.

Her heart fluttered and she had to focus so she didn’t begin talking uncontrollably.  “Do you want to talk about what happened?  You know, about the surgery earlier?”

His eyes burned into hers and for a second, a sheen of emotion settled over them.  He finally looked away and swigged his wine, appearing shaken.  While staring into space, he said quietly, “My little brother died of a gunshot wound.”

She blinked in shock.  “God, Drew.  When was this?”

“A long time ago.  2004.” He didn’t meet her eyes, just continued staring off into his memory.

She’d had no idea that he’d even had a brother.  He’d only mentioned his parents and sister.  She was sensing that he was struggling with something so she reached over and touched his hand.

“You can talk if you need to.  I’m happy to listen.  Or if you just want to sit quietly,” she said, letting her voice drift off at the end.

He squeezed her hand but didn’t look at her.  “I usually don’t do many surgeries on male teenagers.  It brings up too many memories so I usually pass them off to Rob.”  He turned to her briefly.  “He’s the other surgeon who specializes in gunshot wounds.  I’m fine to do them, I just don’t
like
doing them.”

She nodded.  “I remember last year how you didn’t do the surgery for Kevin.  I wondered,” Tiffany said, referring to a boy they knew in the mentoring program who’d been shot by his step-father.  Both she and Drew had been on the scene that day, and although Drew had kept him alive, and traveled with Kevin in the ambulance, Tiffany had learned later that Drew hadn’t performed the surgery.  

He looked down at their hands.  “I never talk about this.  And I have no idea why I am now.”

She squeezed his hand again.  “You don’t need to analyze it.  Just talk if it will make you feel better.”

“
You
make me feel better,” he whispered, still not looking at her.

She wanted to cry at his words.  Instead, she squeezed his hand and asked quietly, “How did it happen?”

He took a deep breath and let his head hit the back of the sofa cushion.  Then he closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them, he began talking.

“Iraq.  He had just enlisted.  He was one of the greatest kids you could ever meet.  Very much like my mom and Carly.  Loud, exuberant.  Full of life.  Only 18.”  He closed his eyes again.  “When I knew he was enlisting, I got involved with the Red Cross.  I went over to volunteer so I could be near him.”  His eyes opened and he stared.  “So I could be close to him, be there for him if he needed me.”  He shook his head.  “As a family member to an enlisted soldier, you know going into it that something horrific like that could happen, but you never really truly believe it will.  And when it does,” he swallowed.  He never finished his statement; just let it hang in the air.  After a moment he shook his head again, trying to clear the memory, then looked over at her.  “Sorry for all the gloom and doom.”  He moved his hand from hers and scrubbed at his face.  “Shit,” he murmured. 

“I thought you were an army medic.”  Right before Christmas, he’d told her that he’d been in Iraq practicing medicine, but she’d assumed he was doing that as an enlisted medic.  Someone had interrupted their conversation and she’d never followed up with him about all of her questions.

“No, I volunteered.”

Every time she learned more about him, Tiffany knew she could fall for this man, and hard.  But knowing she was getting ahead of herself, she stopped that line of thinking and waited for him to take the lead in the conversation, giving him a moment to get his thoughts together.

“Anyway, he was shot by enemy fire, died instantly.  I didn’t even have a chance to
try
to save him.  He would be 29 if he were still alive.  And if he were sitting here, he’d smack me upside the head and say, ‘Man, you need to snap the hell out of it.’  He died doing what he wanted to do.  He’d tell me to stop getting depressed whenever I think of him, that life’s too short for that shit.”  He chuckled.  Eventually he shook himself out of his funk and blew out a loud breath.  “The patient tonight, he was a 20 year old kid.  Just some kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  He let out a sigh, sat up straighter, and looked more in control.  “Sorry.  I usually don’t get this way too often.  But whenever it’s a kid, it hits close to home.”

“It’s completely understandable, I’d say,” she said quietly.

He looked her in the eyes, a smile tugging at his mouth.  “You’re a good listener.”

“Thanks.  And here you thought I was just a good talker,” she said dryly.  God knew the poor man had experienced firsthand her countless babbling attacks.

“You are a good talker,” he said in an amused tone.  “A damn good talker.  It’s one of your most charming qualities.”  His gaze bumped down to her mouth.

Her tongue shot out of its own volition, licking at her bottom lip nervously.  She swallowed.  “You were able to talk to Carly?”

His eyes moved back up to hers.  “Yeah.  She said she’d love to see the warehouse.  So we were thinking maybe we’d stop by late afternoon there, then if you want, we can all go out to dinner before she and I head off to the concert.”

She smiled.  “That sounds great.  I’d love to show off the place.”

“I’d love to see it.  I haven’t seen the inside finished product yet.  Is everything done?  How’s it looking?”

“It’s great.  Todd, the architect, has done a phenomenal job.”

Drew nodded.  “I’m sure you had something to do with how great it looks, too.”

She shrugged but smiled.  “Regardless, it looks good.  I think the neighborhood is going to like it.”

“I’m sure they will.  As my mom used to say, the more ‘good’ you bring into a neighborhood, the more ‘bad’ gets pushed out.  It’s up to all of us to bring the ‘good’ in.” He smiled at her then took a sip of wine.  After putting the glass down on the coffee table, he grabbed a cookie.  Once the chewy morsel was in his mouth, Drew began making sounds of pleasure, chewing slowly.

She got wet from watching him.  Her eyes focused on his mouth as he ate her homemade
polvorones
, a Spanish cookie similar to shortbread.

“God, this is good,” he said around the sweetness in his mouth.  “Is this one of Janie’s or Ayanna’s?” he asked, knowing about their catering business.

She clucked her tongue, acting insulted.  “Of course not.  It’s mine.”

“You made this?”

She nodded, enjoying his reaction.  He made more sounds and she almost had to look away.  She couldn’t help but picture him having sex.  He licked the sugar off his fingers and she almost exploded on the sofa.

“What kind of cookie is this?”

“It’s a polvorón.  Polvo means ‘powder’ in Spanish.  It’s a shortbread cookie with some nut flavoring, and powdered sugar on top.”

“Who taught you how to bake?”

“My mom.  She’s an excellent cook.”

He leaned back against the sofa cushion with his wine in hand.  It was almost empty, so she took the bottle and filled his glass back up.

“Thanks.”  His eyes continued staring into her blue ones.  He stroked at his trimmed goatee, looking like he was thinking about something.

“What?”  She was starting to get nervous.

He shrugged.  “This is nice.”

She gave him a flustered smile, then bit her lip, trying to stop the words before they spilled out of her.

He watched her for a good five seconds and she almost lost her battle of the babble but he finally spoke. 

“Tiff?”  Humor tugged at his mouth.

“Hm?”

“Why do I make you so nervous?”

She licked her lips and blinked. 
Perfect time to tell him, Tiffany.
  “I,” she stammered, about to say
I don’t know
when she finally answered more truthfully.  “I have a couple of thoughts.”

He looked like he enjoyed that answer.  She pressed her lips together in irritation.  He smirked even more.  “Will you ever tell me?”             

She cleared her throat.  “Why you make me nervous?”

He nodded.

Say it, Tiff.
 

He interrupted her before she could speak.  “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, you know.”

She cocked her head and glared good naturedly.  “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”  Then before she could stop herself, “I’m sure Katrina doesn’t babble like an idiot.”

He examined her for a second, then said, “No, she doesn’t.  And you’re never an idiot.”

She snorted.

“You never come across as anything other than sweet, classy and intelligent...and adorable,” he chuckled.

A moment passed, then Tiffany had to ask.  “Why aren’t you with her right now?” she asked quietly.

“Kat?  She’s in Los Angeles visiting her mom for a few days.  Her mom has pancreatic cancer, and Kat goes out to visit her as much as she can.”

His words made her pause.  That explained why he was there then.  So, she was the consolation prize.  She tried not to be depressed by it and said sincerely, “I’m sorry.”  Then she added.  “I know with your protective side, you’re probably wishing you could do something for her.” 

He shrugged.  “There’s not much I can do but listen.  I know what she’s going through.”  Then he smirked.  “Was that ‘protective side’ comment a crack about our previous conversations?”

When they’d gone out to dinner months earlier, their most heated discussion had been the various societal roles between men and women.  His philosophy came through when he opened the doors for her, pulled out her chair, paid for the meal.  He was adamant about his views.  She laughed lightly.  “I know.  It’s part of your DNA.”

“It is.”  He stared into her eyes. “And as I said to you when we had dinner, it’s not because I don’t think the woman is capable of taking care of herself.  It’s just my default.”

“You’re a doctor.  You like to fix and protect and care for people.  It makes sense that you chose that profession given your beliefs.”

“I don’t feel like I need to be that way with everyone.  Just some.”  He continued to watch her.

She cleared her throat.  “So, what’s the prognosis?  For Katrina’s mom, I mean.”

“She’s going through radiation and chemotherapy.  Kat’s sister lives out in LA, too, and she helps her mom as much as possible, but they’re all close and Kat tries to see them as often as she can.  They all grew up there, so...”