A Taste of Sugar

by Marina Adair

  So when she rounded the corner to her hallway and saw Ben standing by her door, waiting with a stack of patient files in hand, she turned right back around and headed straight for the vending machine to have a moment alone with an ice-cream bar.

  She made it as far as the entry to the waiting room when Ben caught up to her. “I wouldn’t go that way.”

  “It’s the quickest way to the ER.” And the vending machine.

  “And half the JV Sugar High football team who miscalculated the length of the wick on the M-80 they stuck in Mr. Ferguson’s cow chip pile.” He flapped the file in his hand. “And right here is one measly patient.”

  “If it was measly then you wouldn’t be trying to hand it off to me.” But she took a hard left anyway, heading through the ob-gyn ward. Charlotte knew every possible route the hospital had to get to that vending machine.

  “The Jam-Off contestants cleaned out the machine. It doesn’t get refilled until Monday.”

  “Lord help us.” Charlotte stopped and let out a deep sigh. When she opened her eyes Ben was standing in front of her. “I really wanted an ice cream.”

  “And I really want to make my tee time.” That was when she noticed that Ben wasn’t dressed for the ER but for playing golf. And because he was sporting a pair of khakis and a fitted polo that stretched over his broad shoulders, every woman in the area paused to check out his goods. “And it’s my day off. My only day off in two weeks since I covered for you Wednesday.”

  “Which I thank you for.” Charlotte started walking back toward her office—and the roll on mini-doughnuts she kept stashed in the back of her desk.

  Ben fell easily in step with her. “Lester Koozner is in room 6. He picked up some Viagra on his recent trip to Mexico and he and the missus wanted to see if it worked.”

  Charlotte slid Ben a sidelong glance. “Did it?” He handed her the file and she read the nurse’s notes. “Wow, he took it two days ago.”

  “Yeah, his wife is in room nine suffering from dehydration, exhaustion, and a mysterious rash she won’t talk to any man about.”

  Charlotte looked at Ben, then at his cleats, and sighed. This is what she signed on for when she moved back to Sugar. She knew that she’d be leaving behind her position at the forefront of medical advancement for snakebites, poison ivy, and the occasional Viagra overdose. But she’d also left behind all of the pain and disappointment that came with living in Atlanta. Sugar helped her heart heal at a time when Charlotte wasn’t sure how to go on, and now it was her turn to repay that kindness.

  “I’ll take Mrs. Koozner, but page my dad. If Lester is here he’ll want to see my dad, not me.”

  Ben gave Charlotte a concerned look that hit her straight in the chest. Taking her arm and steering her into the hallway, he lowered his voice. “Your dad’s not here, Charlotte, which is why I was called in.”

  It also explained why she’d been double-booked, and why she hadn’t seen her father once since her return from Atlanta. In fact, she hadn’t seen or heard from either of her parents since their phone call.

  “He called in sick?” Even as she said the words she knew that answer. The great Reginald Holden never called in sick—that would be admitting weakness.

  Ben’s face went soft—too soft. “He left yesterday for a business trip.”

  The pounding in her chest stopped. Her heart? That stopped, too, because her father never booked out-of-town meetings in the middle of the workweek. God forbid he left the clinic to someone else’s care. And there wasn’t anything on the calendar, which could only mean it was a last-minute meeting. And Charlotte had a terrible feeling just who that meeting was with. But she heard herself asking anyway. “Where did he go?”

  Ben’s face curled in on itself in anger, because if there was one person who had worked as diligently as she had this past year to get the Grow Clinic up and running, and who understood what it meant to Charlotte, it was Ben. He also had firsthand experience with just how difficult Reginald Holden the Third could be. “He went to Nashville.”

  Charlotte’s expression must have been as shattered as her heart, because Ben swore, then pulled her away from prying eyes and toward her office. “Son of a bitch, he didn’t tell you, did he?”

  “Nope,” Charlotte said, holding the file against her chest so that he wouldn’t see her hands shake. “He didn’t. He took over my call Wednesday with Mercy Alliance, and I guess he forgot to mention to me that there was a face-to-face meeting that came from it.”

  It was a lie and they both knew it. Reginald had not only intentionally kept her out of the loop, but he also completely hijacked her project. She didn’t know if it was because he liked to be in control of his world or if he did it out of sheer habit. Either way, it proved that her father didn’t trust Charlotte’s ability to do her job. And after everything she had sacrificed to come home and work in the family clinic, and the lengths she’d gone to prove she was good at what she did—including giving up any kind of real life—his lack of faith in her stung.

  “It is because of you that the meeting even happened,” Ben said softly. “But your dad knows what he’s doing, what this endowment means, he won’t blow it.”

  Yeah, but Charlotte knew more, understood that the way to break through peoples’ hesitations was through their heart. Which was why she should have been the one to go. Only she had been too busy ending her marriage to even know there was a meeting scheduled. “I know. It was just bad timing. My trip took longer than planned.” Everything was taking longer than planned. “I was distracted, and my dad jumped in and took over.”

  Story of her life. Her old life, that was, because Charlotte was tired of men screwing with her plans. This was her endowment, her center, her future. And she needed to start acting like it.

  “You never said why you went to Atlanta,” Ben said as she opened her office door.

  “Yeah, Doctor. Why were you in Atlanta?”

  Charlotte’s heart leapt into her throat at the sound of the deep male voice coming from her private office. The door swung open and a hot flash of irritation rose because there, not even ten feet away, leaning back her chair, boots kicked up on her desk, acting as though he owned the place, was Jace McGraw looking bigger than life.

  Maybe it was the way his eyes twinkled with challenge under the brim of his ball cap. Or maybe it was the battered jeans and black tee that clung to his broad chest with the day’s work in that real men get dirty kind of way. But one look at him sitting there with that easy smile and a different kind of heat altogether skittered through her body.

  “What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked with her most intimidating glare.

  The man didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. He just gave her a deceptively playful smile and said, “Wanted to follow up with you. The lady at the front desk said I should make an appointment. I thought about you walking into the exam room with me in nothing but one of those little robes you all hand out, that never seem to cover enough.” He lifted a single brow. So much was said in that one movement that her thighs quivered. “But you were booked solid until next week, so I decided to come and find you.”

  Ben’s eyes narrowed at Jace and then he took a step forward in a clearly territorial move. “Well, Mr., um…”

  “Jace.” He stood, all his six-foot-four inches of masculine intimidation, and crossed his arms over his impressive chest. He was the poster boy for laid-back and unaffected, but there was a lethal edge to his stance that was tangible if you really knew him. “Jace McGraw.”

  “Well, Mr. McGraw,” Ben said, studying Jace, every muscled inch, and Charlotte had to give the man credit, he didn’t back down. Although she could tell he was a little nervous. “You should make that appointment, because patients aren’t allowed back here.”

  “Oh, I’m not a patient.”

  “Then what are you?” Ben demanded.

  Jace’s eyes twinkled as he lifted them to Charlotte. Then he leaned against the desk and raised a brow as if saying, You
want to take this, darlin’? Which really chapped her hide. Not because he was letting her take the lead, that was actually sweet and thoughtful. But because he knew she hated it when he called her darlin’, and that cute brow raise always translated into darlin’. So she chose to say nothing at all. Except the men in Charlotte’s life were never big talkers, so it was no surprise when both men got comfortable, waiting for her to speak.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, walking farther into the room and dropping the file to her desk. The escalating level of testosterone was giving her a headache. “Jace, this is Ben Clark, a doctor on staff here at the clinic.”

  “Right, Ben.” Jace drawled because Jace knew all about Ben. Knew that they had dated in medical school. Knew that her mother had taken one look at Ben’s last name, his strong Southern family with deep roots and deeper pockets, and started picking out wedding dates.

  “And Ben, this is Jace, he’s my…”

  My what?

  My friend, my ex, my husband?

  This was the first time she’d ever been in a position where she had to explain what Jace was to her. And Charlotte wanted to explain, she really did, if anything for her own clarity, only none of the previous titles seemed to fit.

  And wasn’t that the problem?

  Jace was her ex and her husband and the biggest unanswered question in her life all at the same time. He was also so much more. And no amount of explaining could make sense of how they’d ended up here, but she could tell by the underlying challenge in his eyes that was exactly what he wanted her to do, and a deep disappointment welled up at the realization before she quickly pushed it back down.

  This wasn’t her situation to explain, it wasn’t her choice. Charlotte had made her choice, she’d chosen Jace and he’d chosen to walk away. So Charlotte went with the one title she could stomach. “He’s my mechanic.”

  There, cut and dry, clearly stated and no room for misinterpretation. For herself or anyone else.

  She could tell by the way he held his shoulders that she’d hurt him, but she couldn’t worry about that right now.

  “I’m more of an engine specialist,” Jace said, his comment sounding more like a promise.

  His eyes never leaving hers, he held up her keys by two fingers and shook them for added emphasis, and a small part of her sank inside.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed for the keys as he lifted them out of reach. But Charlotte was no delicate flower, she had long legs, longer arms, and deadly elbows. Not to mention years of working in pediatrics had given her quick reflexes. Only Jace was quicker, so when she went for the one-two to the ribs then grab move, he deflected her easily and moved the keys to his other hand.

  “Give me the keys, Jace.”

  She was so close she could give him a kiss, something that didn’t slip Jace’s attention because he leaned in farther and whispered, “That’s Mr. McGraw, certified engine specialist, and first, I need to talk to you about that last tune-up I performed.”

  They both knew he wasn’t talking about her car, but about his skill in revving her engine, and Charlotte felt her face flush. Jace’s grin widened at her unease, and he stuffed the keys in his pocket—his front pocket—then put his hands up in surrender as if to say, You want ’em, come and get ’em, baby.

  Because the big jerk knew that the only word Charlotte hated more than darlin’ was baby.

  A weighty silence pressed in on the room as he waited until she was good and flushed and she’d retracted her hand before looking to Ben, who was staring at Charlotte as though she’d grown a third eye.

  “If you could give us a minute,” Jace said. When Ben didn’t budge, he nodded to the open door with his chin. “In private. What with doctor-patient confidentiality being what it is.”

  “I thought you weren’t her patient,” Ben challenged.

  “Oh, I’m not,” Jace said, and the way he pitched his voice, low and assertive, had her thighs tightening. “But she’s my doctor.”

  Ben was smart enough not to push any further, because they all knew there was a big difference between him being her patient and her being his doctor, especially when Jace waggled a brow.

  “Ben, could you go check on Mr. Koozner? And tell Mrs. Koozner I will be there momentarily.” Ben still didn’t move, except to cross his arms defiantly. With a sigh, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I need a minute with Mr. McGraw to discuss a sensitive, um, automotive matter.”

  “Uh-huh” was all he said, but after a final stern look at Jace he left—stationing himself right outside the door, which Charlotte closed with a gracious smile. Or tried to, only Ben grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her halfway into the hall.

  He studied her for a long, hard minute, then his face softened with understanding. Whatever epiphany he’d had Charlotte didn’t know, but she’d do just about anything to find out. Because the smile he gave her had a lightness to it that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

  “Holy shit. That’s him,” he said, then gave a low whistle.

  “Him, who?”

  “Him.” Ben looked at her again and shook his head, his smile turning so big Charlotte wanted to ask him what was so funny. “The reason we never worked out.”

  * * *

  Well, shit. Jace knew this was going to be a challenge, but he didn’t expect Dr. Fucking Perfect to be here. In Sugar. With Charlotte. Situating those fancy letters and starched degrees right between Jace and his goal.

  Even worse, he didn’t know what Ben being here even meant. From what Charlotte had told him about Ben, and it wasn’t a lot, he knew that the guy could get a job just about anywhere in the country. The only reason someone like that would work in a small town like Sugar was if it were for a woman like Charlotte.

  Too bad for Ben that Charlotte was Jace’s woman.

  At least for another three weeks.

  Jesus, even thinking it had his stomach knotting and his soul sweating over what would happen when he was gone. Down in Atlanta, running his garage—and from his mistakes—with the taste of Charlotte fresh on his lips. Because she would be here, in Sugar, working herself ragged to prove to her father that she was enough, when she was already so much more than they even realized. Only he wouldn’t be here to remind her of that, but some other guy would. Some smart guy. Probably some educated, manicured guy who didn’t have a messed-up past, wore pants without grease stains, and had no problem living here in Sugar.

  A guy like Ben, who could give Charlotte everything she wanted, everything she deserved—everything that Jace couldn’t.

  Fuck!

  “What are you doing here, Jace?”

  Jace looked up from his hands, calloused and rough, to the primly dressed Charlotte in a white lab coat, with her hair pulled artfully back in one of those fancy little twists women like her mastered by age six, and wondered the same thing.

  “I came to bring you your car,” he said.

  “You could have left me a message.”

  “I did. You never called back.”

  “A message about my car,” she clarified.

  She had him there, and sure, maybe he should have, and then he wouldn’t have had to witness firsthand everything that Charlotte’s life had become. She was exactly what he always knew she could be and more. Amazing, successful, and so damn beautiful it tore him up. She’d done it, gone after her dreams and created a future all on her own, and he was damn proud.

  In his heart he knew she deserved that—deserved her life to be amazing. Deserved a good guy like Ben who shared her passions and understood her world. But even though he knew all of this, he couldn’t seem to walk away, not yet. Because beneath the formal tone was a spark of hope and what he was pretty sure was heat.

  For him.

  Somehow, beyond all logic, Jace in his worn-out shitkickers and lived-in attitude turned the pretty doctor on. To test that theory, he pushed off the desk—sure to flex his arms a little in the process—and moseyed a little closer, biting back a grin when she backed up—ri
ght into the door.

  And just like that, Jace wasn’t worried about Ben, or not being cut from the same cloth, because even though Dr. Fucking Perfect was a good guy, Jace’s brothers were the best men he knew.

  Had to be, because they were just like Jace’s dad, cut from McGraw cloth. And even though a lot of that didn’t transfer to Jace, he knew that he had to have some of his dad in him, the good parts as well as the stubborn ones, and this was the time to dig deep and go McGraw.

  “I didn’t come here because of the car,” he said, stepping even closer, and pulled out her keys because Spencer had been right. Jace had somehow convinced himself that holding on to her keys was like holding on to her. And it wasn’t even close. Because he had learned that the way to Charlotte wasn’t to take away her choices, it was to empower her with information and let her make her own decision. And he could only hope that she chose him. “I came here to let you know I can’t stop thinking about you—or that night. And I want more time.”

  “We had a deal,” she said, reaching behind her to grip the doorknob, conjuring up some kind of escape plan in that gorgeous head of hers. “One night, and then we walk away satisfied.”

  “That’s the problem, Charlie,” Jace said, closing the last bit of distance until he could smell the light floral scent that was Charlotte. “I’m not.”

  “Well, I am,” she said, right as he reached out and slowly slid the keys inside her coat pocket, noticing the little quiver that ran though her body at the gentle contact. He slowly pulled his hand back out, and when she caught his grin she sighed. “Okay, fine, it was amazing. Sex with you, it’s always amazing, but that was never our problem. It’s what happens after sex that gets tricky.”

  “I agree, then let’s simplify things.” He placed his hands on the door on either side of her head, then looked down into those eyes that he knew were so easy to get lost in. That they were dilated told him she was getting lost, too. “Have dinner with me, Charlie.”

  She licked her lips as though contemplating life’s meaning, then firmly shook her head. “I don’t think dinner with you is a smart move.”