“If you don’t have a little crush on Dr. Do Me, why did you run away from him like a thirsty, hating-ass trick when that tramp walked in?”
Giva released air from her cheeks and raked her fingers through her braids. “I don’t knooow! Oh my God! What if he thinks I’m jealous? Sweet Baby Jesus! He might think I actually like him, Kyle.”
“And he would be right.” Now, facing each other head-on, their eyes locked through cyberspace.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is, GiGi.”
“You’re wrong, Kyle! Take it back!”
“Girl, bye. I know I’m right and so do you.” He chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “So, what? Dr. Do Me is a stuck-up jerk who gets on your last motherfucking nerve. He’s heartless, detached, and doesn’t give a damn about his patients. But you want that man, boo. You want to melt him down to some country gravy and sop him up with a Hungry Jack biscuit. He gives you fever. Admit it.”
Giva’s silence confirmed Kyle’s suspicion. She did have the fever for her sexy colleague! But she would never admit it because she was too damn stubborn. And because she was honest beyond irritation, she wouldn’t deny it either. Kyle reclined against the stack of pillows behind him and smiled victoriously. His pretty roomie needed a little bit of coaching in the dating slash romance department. She was so freaking green when it came to relationships with creatures of the masculine kind while Kyle was a veteran with many stripes and medals. There was no way in hell he would’ve left his back door open for that Hassan dude or any other man all these years.
No, Giva wasn’t carrying a torch for her ex beau. But she’d admitted to Kyle that if Dr. Control Freak was still single and willing to make her his bride by the time she was ready to settle down and get married and push out a couple of little ones, she would become his wife. That was if she hadn’t met her soul mate yet. The job she felt so passionately about and Atlanta would be in the rearview too because Hassan would insist that Giva return to Sierra Leone to assist him at his OB-GYN practice if they were to ever marry.
Kyle wasn’t about to let that happen. He couldn’t. Dr. Hogan McQueen was the first man his roomie had shown a tiny speck of interest in since they’d moved to the Dirty South a year and a half ago. And if he was digging her the same way she was feenin’ for him, King Kyle needed to perform a little bit of man-maneuvering magic on the situation.
“Uggghhh! Ah shit!” The loud guttural growl made Hogan’s throat sore as he released a glob of semen that splattered on the towel covering his lap. A stream of warm and sticky baby-making goo spilled over his palm and fingertips and ran down his muscular thighs. He twitched and cursed his way through a massive nut with visions of Giva, butt-ass naked, twirling through his psyche.
Another Friday night at home alone and horny was depressing as hell. Before the virus slammed into Atlanta like a tidal wave, forcing the citizens into quarantine, Hogan had been on a roll with the honeys. Pussy had never been hard to come by and loneliness hadn’t reared its head ever. The pandemic was killing Hogan’s social life slowly but surely. But for the sake of his good health and the safety of his colleague’s and the patients they cared for, he was committed to social isolation after hours. It was the only way to contain the spread of the deadly virus.
Now, in need of a shower after his vigorous workout in his home gym and his self-pleasuring session with his hand, Hogan wiped up the mess he’d made on his lower body and stood from the bench. Flipping off the light switch and ceiling fan on the way out, he headed for the master suite. He loved his Midtown loft with a panoramic view of the Atlanta skyline from his terrace. Although he had three bedrooms, only the master suite was used for sleeping. One had been converted into a home office and the other one stored his bass guitar collection and other string instruments.
Hogan rarely ever got a chance to indulge in his long-time pastime, but he still sought out expensive, one-of-a-kind guitars owned or once played by musical greats to add to his impressive collection. It was weird how once upon a time, thumping out bass lines to light rock, popular dance tunes, and some R&B classics, had been as important to him as getting into Harvard’s med school, and now he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d even turned on the stereo to listen to any music.
Currently, Hogan’s life was all about work, COVID-19, and saving lives by any means. He missed dropping by Open Tabs, his favorite bar, after work to throw back a few beers and an occasional shot of strong whiskey with some of the regulars. They used to have some lively conversations during competitive games of pool while hot chicks held on to every syllable they spat. But faster than a stripper’s shimmy, the deadly virus had changed everything for everybody, especially Hogan. A life of quarantine had robbed him of so much, and the self-imposed celibacy that came along with it was driving him out of his fucking mind.
Hogan looked in the mirror, assessing his five o’clock shadow as steam filled the spacious master bathroom. He’d set the powerful spray on the hottest water temp he could stand. The soothing effects of the rainfall showerhead reminded him of showering outside in Brazil a few years ago. Hogan and a group of his med school buddies had ventured to the South American paradise for a little bit of chill time and pleasure. On their second night in Rio, he and his best friend, Byron, met and quickly got chummy with a pair of runway models from São Paulo at a popular nightclub. After hours of dirty dancing and drowning in several bottles of cachaca, the two young doctors and the pair of beauties finished off the night at their oceanfront cabana with buck-wild sex on the beach underneath a tropical rainfall.
The erotic memory caused a smile to creep across Hogan’s face. Those were the good old days when he was still young and reckless. Life was simple with no worries about wide-spreading disease plaguing the planet. His only concern back then had been maintaining his condom stockpile and making sure he didn’t piss off Ben, his accountant and financial advisor, by spending his fortune foolishly.
Stepping inside the double shower stall, the pounding hot water welcomed Hogan like an old friend. He grabbed his bath sponge from its hook and saturated it with his sandalwood and coconut designer body wash. When his eyes closed on their own accord, a crystal clear vision of Giva took up residence in his head. Immediately, his cock stirred back to life, standing tall and proud, thumping against his belly button. His meat was so stiff that his balls began to hurt. He hardly even knew the chick and he wasn’t even sure if he liked her, but a simple mental image of the gorgeous West African physician had him about to waste more of his precious seed on the smooth marble tile underneath his feet and watch it disappear down the drain.
“Damn you, Gwyneth!” Hogan punched the black and white wall tile with a side fist. “You fucked me up tonight. Fuck!”
The truth was Hogan didn’t own a crystal ball that could tell him how things would’ve unfolded between him and Giva on their impromptu coffee date. They might’ve made a positive connection or she could’ve found him to be as repulsive as she already thought he was. Hell, because of Gwyneth’s surprise, unwanted appearance, he’d been left hanging. Her interruption had cost him dearly and now he would lose sleep wondering what he would be doing right now if she hadn’t shown up in the doctors’ lounge.
Hogan needed another chance to spend some personal time with Giva away from the hospital. There was something about the woman that fascinated him and it wasn’t her bedside manner either. She was smart and a phenomenal physician. And damn, she was hotter than a habanero pepper. In all honesty, Dr. Kamara was the most beautiful woman Hogan had ever laid eyes on. And he wanted her. He wanted her bad.
5
Giva threw her head back and released a full-belly laugh as she clapped her hands. An electric current of enthusiasm weaved its way through the atmosphere, and everyone appeared excited. The loud chimes from the bell in the CV19 Unit represented sweet victory, another medical triumph. A group of masked doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, and support staff members stood around clappi
ng and cheering as the latest survivor of the dreadful Coronavirus left the unit.
It was a great day and Giva couldn’t have been happier. Her raw emotions were evident by the tears she attempted to fight back, but couldn’t contain no matter how hard she tried. Watching the sixty-eight-year-old wife, mother of four, and grandmother of thirteen who had spent eleven days on a ventilator, leave the unit, made her heart sing and smile. Giva felt like dancing in the streets like her people back home in her beloved country did at the sign of victory and accomplishment. She could just hear the skillful drummers beating out festive cadences as the women stomped, gyrated, and swayed energetically. Oh the memories…
“Goodbye, Mrs. Moretti!” a group of nurses waved with tears in their eyes.
Lynn, a unit IT staffer, yelled, “So long, sweetie! You rock!”
“God bless you, ma’am,” Dr. Patel said with a smile.
Ardaijah blew a kiss through her mask. “We love you, Mrs. Moretti, but don’t you come back here, girl.”
Giva’s heart swelled with pride over the fact that she had contributed to the older woman’s recovery. Moments like this only confirmed that she’d chosen the right profession and her expertise made a difference in the lives of others.
“May I have a word with you, Dr. Kamara?”
The deep rasp in his voice caused her to shiver in place. Damn, he’s too close to me for my sanity!
“What do we need to talk about, Dr. McQueen?” Giva began a forward trek down the hall, refusing to turn around to face him. She was in a hurry to find refuge in her cubicle. “I have lots of charting to do.”
Hogan started a slow chase. “I owe you a cup of coffee and I’d like to make good on my debt.”
“No worries. Your debt is forgiven. I’m not a big fan of coffee anyway.”
Hogan grabbed her elbow with a discreet but firm hand, preventing her from taking another step. “We need to talk, Giva. And we will talk today. I promise you that. You’ve been avoiding me for the past four days now and I want it to stop.”
“Avoiding you?” She laughed faintly. “What makes you think you’re important enough for me to deliberately avoid? That would require far too much of my time, brain power, and energy. You mustn’t flatter yourself, Doctor.”
“I want to talk to you. There’re some things I need you to know about me and I want to learn more about you. We made a connection the other night. I felt it and I know you did too. I want us to become friends or maybe even more, Giva. Have coffee with me after work.”
“I don’t think so.” She wiggled her arm subtly to free it from his grasp before turning to finally face him. “I had a temporary lapse in judgment the other night when I agreed to have coffee with you, but it will never happen again. I’m actually grateful Little Mama showed up when she did. Because of her, I dodged a bullet.”
Giva’s parting words had come directly from her head because her heart was singing a totally different tune. The clash between her mental and emotional processing was serious and oh so real. Honestly, Giva wanted to know what made Hogan tick. He was like a covert human phenom or some superhero with a top-secret identity. Women worshipped him and men simply gave him his props for being one helluva physician and the guy most women would gladly cough up a lung for.
The rumors, as well as the mystery surrounding Dr. Do Me, had piqued Giva’s interest from day one when they’d met a year and a half ago. But now that they were working side by side and he had expressed a slight personal interest in her, she wanted to become better acquainted with the sexy doctor. The need to peel back his many layers to discover the real man, the authentic Hogan McQueen, had magnified with great intensity. But Giva was too afraid to act on her curiosity. She refused to lower her standards and chase him like all the other female employees at Grady, and she’d never slow down so he could catch and conquer her in his sudden chase. Oh, but he was so freaking charming and sexilicious.
Maybe I should have coffee with him.
A quick flashback of Little Mama entering the doctors’ lounge and the shrill of her voice calling out for Big Papa paid Giva’s brain a visit. She had been just moments away from spending time with the infamous Dr. Do Me before the petite, bleached-blonde PA burst in.
Nah, girl, keep it moving. Bullet dodged.
Hogan stood in place watching Giva sashay down the hall like a supermodel on a Parisian runway. The woman mesmerized him. He had never been dismissed so thoughtlessly by a female in his life. In fact, Hogan couldn’t recall ever being rejected by a woman. Hell, most times, honeys went out of their way to spend time with him, whether it was an innocent coffee date or a raunchy ride between the sheets. Was the good doctor losing his touch? He smiled confidently in the negative.
“So, she wants to play hard to get, huh? Cool. Get ready, babe. Game on.”
Hogan headed toward his cubicle, but he wasn’t pressed to do any charting. He had some other important business to take care of at the moment. However, he needed some advice first and he knew just the person to call.
“Has anyone spoken to Hogan? I’ve been calling him nonstop over the past two weeks, but he never picks up or returns my call.” Celeste McQueen lifted her glass of champagne from the red linen tablecloth. Before she took a sip, her eyes glided smoothly around the table at her husband to her right and their three older children.
Harley, the oldest McQueen sibling and only daughter, fidgeted slightly and placed a forkful of vegetable lasagna into her mouth. Her brothers, Harlan Junior and Hunter, continued eating without as much as a grunt in response to their mother’s question. Their father was equally as quiet. It was as if the family matriarch hadn’t inquired about the baby of the McQueen dynasty.
“You’ve spoken to him, haven’t you, Harley?”
Now, with four pairs of inquisitive eyes staring at her, Harley felt like a guilty traitor before a firing squad. “Yes, ma’am, I spoke to Hogan today. He called me this morning, our time, from work.”
“And how is my baby boy?”
“He’s well, Mother. He sends his love to everyone and hopes you’re all well and safe from the pandemic.”
“Ha!” Celeste slammed the empty crystal champagne flute on the table as her family watched in horror, obviously expecting it to break. Miraculously, it didn’t. “He’s worried about us catching that nasty virus? The nerve of him…”
“He’s not really worried, Mother. I guess you could say he cares about our safety and—”
“Never mind Hogan’s concerns! He should be home with us working with his family so his health won’t be in jeopardy.”
“That’s not going to happen, Mother,” Harley snapped. “My baby brother is very happy working in the special unit for COVID-19 patients in Atlanta. I think he’s crazy as hell, but I admire him.”
“Oh, dear God, Harley! You are impossible! Is that why Hogan called you instead of me? Are you his cheerleader, the one who gives him permission to waste his life away working in a goddamn ER down in the God-forsaken south?”
The loud screech Harley’s chair made when she pushed back from the table with force, got everyone’s full attention. Her father and two brothers stopped eating to stare at her. She stood abruptly and tossed her white linen napkins to the table. “No, Mother, I am not Hogan’s cheerleader. I’m the only person in this dysfunctional family who listens to his hopes and dreams of saving the lives of the less fortunate all over the world. Maybe if you, Father, and these two money-chasing sons you’ve managed to control all these years would treat Hogan better and show him the respect he deserves, he’d call you all sometimes. I’m leaving. My appetite has suddenly disappeared.”
“Sit down and finish your lunch, Harley. There’s no need for dramatics.”
“No, Father, I’m leaving. I think I’ll go home and spend the rest of the day with my children. I don’t want them to grow up like my brothers and I did. We spent more time with the nanny and maid than with our own parents.”
“That’s nonsense!” Celeste scre
amed.
“Of course, it’s not. Mamie Lee damn near raised Hogan. Why do you think he chose emergency medicine over the crap we all do? I’ll tell you why. When Mamie Lee died during Hogan’s sophomore in undergraduate school, from a mere asthma attack because she didn’t have medical insurance, it changed him. He swore that day that he would never augment a breast or plump up some actress’ lips with collagen or perform a facelift on any human being. He chose to save lives and make a difference instead. Get a clue, people!” Harley left the dining room in a huff.
“Come back, Harley! I insist that you come back this instance!”
Angrily, Harley swiveled around on her stilettos. “No, Mother, I will not stay here, but I will add this bit of news as a bonus before I leave. My baby brother has finally met a woman who challenges and stimulates him. I think she may be the one. And if she is, just imagine his wedding without you because he won’t invite any of you as long as you continue to give him grief about his career choice. You’ll miss all of his babies’ christenings too. Everyone knows how much he loves children, so he’ll probably have an entire band of little bass guitar players. It’s too bad you’ll never meet them.”
Satisfied that she’d shocked the shit out of everyone once again, Harley left her parents’ elegant dining room. Only this time, she didn’t return with another snippet of her conversation with Hogan. She had no plan to tell her family that the woman her baby brother was fascinated with was also an emergency room doctor, and she was black.
6
“Thanks, Elián.” Hogan took the black leather duffel bag from his butler. “Are you sure you got everything?”
“Yes, sir, I got everything on the list and a few other items.”
Feverish Love Page 3