New York Doc, Thailand Proposal

by Dianne Drake

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Probably not.”

  “Now that’s a solid answer, if I ever did hear one.”

  “I like the people, Arlo. And the challenge of the medicine, even though I’ve complained about it. It makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt alive before. I think I’ll miss it when I go home.”

  “You’re really going back to that?”

  “It’s who I am. At least, who I know me to be.” She took a sip of the wine, then looked up at the stars. Beautiful dots of twinkling diamonds set against a black backdrop. “Do you think I could take some of that with me?”

  “I think you can have whatever you want, Layla. Your heart’s desire, if your heart is involved.” He pulled her to her feet and into his embrace. “Do you remember the nights we’d sit outside on the balcony and just...breathe?”

  “Those were nice nights, Arlo. Sometimes after a long, hard day they were the only thing that made sense.”

  “I still do that. Sit on my wooden step, shut my eyes and just breathe. It puts things into perspective when I think my life is getting too hard, or that I’m just not good enough. And when I’m sitting there, sometimes I can almost feel you sitting there with me. Going through the same struggles, thinking the same thoughts, trying to put things into perspective.”

  She leaned her head against his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. Everything about Arlo was steady. She’d always loved that about him, especially as nothing in her life ever seemed steady. “I don’t have a balcony now, and my front steps—I live in a brownstone and they open straight onto the sidewalk.” And she didn’t have him there with her. That, more than anything else, made the difference.

  “Does it have a real front door?” he asked.

  “It does, with a proper lock.”

  “I could be jealous, you know.”

  She leaned her head back and looked up at his face—his beautiful face. His eyes. His curls. His neck. All with so many memories... “I could send you a proper door when I get home.”

  “Or give me a proper kiss now,” he replied.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he took her mouth, the stubble of his beard rough on her skin. But she liked the rugged look of it, the intense feel of it against her, primitive and wild. More sensual and appealing than the clean-shaven face she’d kissed all those years ago.

  She wanted to resist him now, knew she should, but nothing in her would acquiesce to that insane notion, and a faint moan recklessly escaping her lips affirmed how very little she could, or would, resist. And all it took was that whisper of a moan to ignite Arlo, causing him to press hard into her, hold her harder, kiss her harder.

  Layla’s knees went weak with her desire for more of him, and as his mouth roamed without discretion, leaving a trail of heat against the soft curve of her throat then the delicate flesh of her ear, he was the one who groaned, but loud and guttural. For the stars in the heavens to hear.

  Layla’s arm, where it pressed against Arlo’s, burned. But with her free arm she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, through the curls she’d loved so dearly for so long. Then stood on tiptoe to kiss his neck. Baby-soft kisses, the ones that always gave him goosebumps. That ones that did so even now. “What do we do about this?” she asked, her voice so overcome with want and need it was barely audible. Dear heaven, she wanted the man she’d always wanted, and didn’t know how to have.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE HOTEL ROOM was hot and stuffy, and basic by any definition of the word. But by the time they’d secured the room for the night none of that had mattered. In fact, it hadn’t been until just now that Layla had seen the lizard on the wall opposite the bed. Make that lizards—plural. Three of them, simply hanging there and watching.

  “They’re staring at us,” she said to Arlo.

  He was sprawled in bed next to her, the bedsheet coming up only to his waist. She, on the other hand, had her part of it pulled up to just below her chin.

  “They’re just small house geckos,” he explained. “Jing jok, as they’re called here. Harmless. Oh, and they’re supposed to bring good luck. So we have three times the luck going for us.”

  She looked at their clothes piled in a heap on the floor. And two empty bottles of wine on the dresser. They’d stopped for another on their way to the hotel. Regrets? Not at all. In fact, she would have been contented to stay there all day, lounging, making love, spending the day the way they’d occasionally done when they’d both managed to have the same day off with nothing to do.

  “Breakfast in bed would be nice,” she said, looking at the chip and candy wrappers wadded and tossed at the trash can, but not into it, littering the floor.

  “Actually, that would be brunch. And I could go down to the vending machines and grab us more junk food, since this place doesn’t have a restaurant.”

  She shook her head. “I think after the way we indulged last night...”

  He chuckled. “We sure did. Three times, if I remember correctly. But all that wine is kind of blurring my thoughts.”

  She scooted over next to him and laid her head on his bare chest. “I’ve never been in a hotel like this before.” She looked across at the walls. Cement blocks painted yellow. And the furniture—one bed, one rickety chair and a dresser. “Is this where you bring all your women?” she asked, twining her fingers in his soft mat of chest hair.

  “What? You’re not impressed?”

  “I saw the sign informing us we have to pay extra to use the shower.”

  “But it’s in the room. That’s better than many of the budget hotels offer. And the room came with a sheet, no extra cost.” Arlo rolled slightly to his side and pulled her into his arms. “Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. We’ve got a hospital to attend, and the nurse who went down to stay there for us has to leave later this afternoon.”

  “How did he manage to show up at just the right time?”

  “Sylvie called him when she knew we probably wouldn’t make it back for quite a while. She was actually in the village, having a pastry from Dusit’s stall, when she saw what was happening, so it worked out well for us.”

  “I was dreading the ride back so late last night. After everything that went on...” She shook her head. “I suppose as good doctors we should check in on Virote before we leave.”

  “As good doctors I suppose we should conserve water when we shower.”

  “Hope it’s warm,” she said.

  “Anything’s better than a dribbling hose sticking through a window. And it does have a stopcock, so the dribble isn’t continuous.”

  Layla laughed. “You know what? Even the thought of that shower doesn’t ruin my mood. After last night...”

  “What about last night?” he asked, tucking his index finger under the edge of the sheet and starting to edge it down from her neck. “And do you suppose we should, um, get our money’s worth out of this luxurious room before we leave?”

  “Depends,” she said, sliding down slightly in the bed, then yanking the sheet entirely off him, exposing every bare inch of the most glorious body she’d ever known.

  “On what?”

  “On if you can put blindfolds on those geckos. Good luck or not, I don’t want them watching what I’m about to do.”

  “Sounds interesting.” He rolled totally to his side and propped up his head on his hand. “So, tell me, what would that be?”

  She smiled, wrinkling her nose, tossing away the sheet altogether, then also turning on her side to face him. “Let’s just say it’ll be well worth the effort of blindfolding the geckos.”

  “Blindfold them, hell. They’re going out to the garden.”

  “Then be glad we rented a room with a window, because I’d hate to see you parading down the hall in nothing but a sheet, carrying three geckos.” She looked down and grinned. “Especially in that
condition. On second thought, I think the geckos can wait.”

  * * *

  His preference would have been cuddling up with Layla for the rest of the day. It was nice, getting away. Nice not having to worry about so many things. Nice simply feeling human again. No expectations of him. No patients running after him. No nothing. And while he did love his hospital, getting away from it occasionally was necessary.

  Unfortunately, that rarely happened. Not because he couldn’t get medical coverage for a day or two. He could. But there was nothing that motivated him to go off somewhere alone. And that’s where he’d been most of his time here. Somewhere alone. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with anybody for anything other than a few quick moments.

  The last person, in fact the only person he’d ever spent an entire night with, was Layla. And that had been so long ago, and they had been in such dire straits by that time, most of the memory was a blur. But he had a new memory or two now. And as he pulled the SUV off to the side of the road, just under the giant fig tree, he laid his head back against the seat, closed his eyes and sighed.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Just trying to hold on a little longer. Right now, we’re still lovers, basking in an afterglow. When I go past the fig tree, we’re doctors who will be facing a dozen or more people who missed us when we were gone. I’m just not quite ready to pass the fig tree yet.”

  “You do know that we’re probably going to be up working all night, don’t you?”

  “You do know that I don’t have to care until I’m on the other side of the fig tree, don’t you?” He reached over and took hold of her hand. “It was good, Layla. And I’m not just talking about the sex. It was good just being with you, talking, doing nothing, doing everything. Sort of like old times, the way we used to do.”

  “But you know we’re not those two people anymore.”

  “Life really got in the way, didn’t it?”

  “I think it does for most people. When you’re younger you hope you can capture a single, perfect moment and spend the rest of your life in it. Then add some age, and experience, and you realize that perfect moments are just that—perfect moments. You can’t capture them, and you certainly can’t spend the rest of your life inside them because reality does finally rear up and show its ugly or even not-so-ugly face.”

  “And a fig tree is just a fig tree, no matter which side of it you’re sitting on. Anyway, I promised a house call sometime later today or this evening,” he said, starting the engine again. “And I need to check some stitches I put in one of the children a couple of days ago. And one of us has to go give another pep talk to Dusit...”

  What was the point of even thinking about anything personal between them could ever be more than what they’d just had? That one perfect moment or, in their case, night. She had a mission and she wasn’t going to stop until she’d completed it. And he was only the means to her carrying out her mission.

  He knew that, but it didn’t take away the feelings for Layla that were growing. And they were growing fast, which was a huge problem. Because what he was thinking about was something he couldn’t have. Just like last time. And what he had was something Layla wouldn’t deal with for more than her allotted two months. So, where did that leave them? On a bumpy road back to the village. That’s where.

  * * *

  “You awake?” Layla poked her head into the hut, only to find Arlo stretched out on his mat. They’d spent all of last evening and the whole day today chasing down minor complaints, he going one way through the village and she another.

  “Pensri Buajan will be by in a while with food. Apparently, several of the women got together and cooked for us again—actually, they cooked for the whole village, in celebration of saving Virote’s life. So we’re to be the guests of honor at another celebration.” She raised her foot and nudged him in the shoulder, only to have him turn on his side, away from her. “You don’t get to sleep through it, Arlo. A lot of people have gone to the trouble of doing this for us, and the least you can do is show up.”

  “Bad bedside manner, Doctor,” he mumbled. “You’re never supposed to kick your patient under any circumstances.”

  “First, you’re not my patient. Second, I didn’t kick. I nudged.”

  “Nudge me again like that, and I’ll take you to the floor.”

  Layla laughed. “You’re such a faker, Arlo. Being mean-spirited doesn’t suit you. You can’t even pretend to do a good job of it.” For effect, she nudged him with her foot again, only this time he was too quick for her, rolling over before her foot contacted his shoulder, then grabbing it and holding it.

  “Put me down,” she warned him, balancing herself on one foot. “Or else—”

  “Or else what?” He grinned mischievously. “Tell me, Layla. What will you do?”

  “This,” she said, trying to twist away from him. Only she lost her balance and ended up on top of him.

  “Didn’t work,” he teased, holding onto her as she tried to struggle free. Truth was, he liked her there. Didn’t want to let her go.

  “I’ve been pinned down by worse than you, Arlo Benedict.”

  “Who pinned you?” he asked, his face dangerously close to her.

  “His name was James, big brute of a five-year-old. Launched off the exam table and grabbed me around the neck. But I made fast work of that. Took care of him in the blink of an eye.”

  “How?”

  “Bribery. Two lollipops. He was a sucker for a couple of suckers.”

  “Do you have two lollipops for me?” he asked, still holding on but now more like rubbing her back than latching onto her.

  “You had your lollipops yesterday, and the day before. Sort of like paying in advance.” She twisted a bit, only managing to find herself deeper in his embrace rather than being free of him.

  “And what if I want another one right now?”

  “We don’t have a door, and I’m not an exhibitionist. I don’t like giving you lollipops where everybody can watch us. And because the meal is coming to us—actually, to the hospital—since it’s large enough to hold more people than this place is, I think anything we might do would definitely be on exhibition.”

  “Why do you always have to make so much sense?” he protested, rolling over to his back then sitting up.

  “Someone has to.” She headed toward the door, then turned back to him. “I’m glad I came here, Arlo. And that’s not just about the promotion. It’s nice that we’re reconnecting, again. I’ve missed that. And you. I’ve missed you.”

  This wasn’t what he wanted or needed to hear. He was already soft in the head over this thing, and now with Layla going soft—No, it’s not what he needed because, like the first time, they both knew where this would end. Which made everything they were doing a game. They were simply playing games. “Look, I’ve got to go check on Achara now that she’s home again. I’ll be back for the party in a while.” With that, he pushed himself off the floor, grabbed his medical bag and was on his scooter, putt-putting his way down the road before Layla could say or do something to change his mind. He didn’t want to change his mind. This wasn’t going to work, and the games were going to stop. Otherwise the rest of her time here was going to stretch out into a miserable eternity he didn’t want. Not at all.

  * * *

  The party was long over, and Arlo had never returned. She understood why, and she also understood that her feelings and his were the same. They were going round and round, fighting something they couldn’t fight. And it wasn’t for the first time. This time they were experienced at it. Knew exactly what it was and where it was going.

  And with the better part of two months still stretching out ahead of them—this was a mistake. She’d known, when she’d volunteered for this duty, how it might work out. But there hadn’t been a day in the past five years that bits and pieces of Arlo
hadn’t been in her thoughts. He had always been there in some way. In a surgery she’d known Arlo was particularly skilled at doing, in the twinkle in Ollie’s eyes—the one Arlo had inherited from him—in his favorite pillow that she’d tucked back on a closet shelf and couldn’t bear to get rid of after he’d left her.

  She didn’t know if she had it in her to go back to that place. It had been so bad then, and now that she understood him even better—she didn’t even want to think about it. So, on her way from the hospital to the hut to which she’d been summoned, she tried putting everything out of her thoughts by counting steps. Eyes to the dirt road, counting out loud.

  “Well, you aren’t what I was expecting.” The man, her patient, was older, rugged and very handsome, with silver hair and a short beard with thin, neatly trimmed sides. Silver, like his hair. He was sitting up in the first bed of an otherwise empty hut. Looking flushed, breathing hard. But smiling. And he was not a native.

  “Who were you expecting?”

  “Well, specifically, Arlo. But you’re a pleasant surprise. It’s been a good, long while since I’ve seen a doctor, and seeing how you’re a lady doc, more’s the better.”

  He was charming. That much was certain. “Well, Arlo’s—Actually, I’m not sure where he is. Probably on a house call somewhere. I’m Layla. Layla Morrison.” She held out her hand to shake his. “And I’m assuming you’re one of the Dr. Benedicts. Since you’re not Arlo, and not Ollie, then you must be—”

  “Ward. Does the family resemblance show that much?”

  “Trust me, I’ve been around various Benedict doctors long enough that I can spot them a mile away. So, what’s the complaint?”

  “A bit of a snakebite, I’m sorry to say. Just above my right boot.”

  “Arlo wears sandals,” she said, as she rolled up Ward’s cargo pants to find that the bite mark was above the top of his boot. And also a cross cut mark, where he’d probably tried sucking out the venom himself.