The Procedure

by Tabatha Vargo

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until we’re in the privacy of my office?”

  That sounded sexual. I hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, but evidently, she picked up on it because she blushed sweetly.

  “What I meant to say was…”

  She cut me off. “I get what you’re saying.” She smiled at me from across the table, looked away, and focused on the thin stem of her wineglass.

  “You should feel sexy,” I blurted out. To hell with my bloody mouth. It had a mind of its own today apparently.

  “Excuse me?” she said, her blush deepening in color.

  “What I mean to say is, wear something that makes you feel attractive.” I choked on my words and took a deep swallow of my wine before finishing. “The way a woman feels is usually reflected in her eyes. When you feel attractive, it shows to the world. Confidence, Samantha, is the sexiest accessory a woman can wear. If you’re feeling confident, it relays well.”

  God help me. She was going to show up at my office looking as delicious as the food in front of me, and I was going to want to eat her up. It occurred to me that I was torturing myself. How something as simple as meeting with a patient had turned into this was beyond me. I was attracted to this woman, in a way I hadn’t been with anyone else in a long time. And I was about to make it whole lot harder. Pun intended.

  “Okay, I’ll figure it out,” she said with a smile.

  Another thing I was learning about myself—I loved to make her smile. Every time she did, it was like I’d accomplished all I needed to for the day. It made me feel strong—manly. It was a pleasant feeling.

  We finished up dinner, I paid the bill, and we awkwardly went our own way outside of the restaurant.

  When I got to my office the following day, I had three more appointments. I tried to give each patient the attention they needed, but still, my mind kept wandering back to Samantha and what she’d be wearing when she got there.

  STANDING AT THE wall of windows in my office, I watched the sidewalk across from our building. I hardly ever had time in between patients to sit and think, but I knew Samantha was coming and I needed to get my head in the game.

  I’d spent the night running all the reasons my feelings and thoughts for Samantha were wrong, and I woke with a stronger willpower. She was my patient, I was her doctor, and I’d made a promise to help her. So help her I would, but it would end there. There would be no more heated kisses or touches. There would be no more naughty thoughts. I’d make sure of it.

  I turned at the light tap on my door to find Belinda, a new nurse, standing there with a smile.

  “Dr. Blake, Ms. Aldridge is here to see you.”

  Nodding, I adjusted my coat before I took a seat behind my desk. “Please let her in.”

  I prepared myself for whatever sexy clothing Samantha had worn, but when she stepped into my office, I was surprised to see her in a pair of slacks and a simple blouse.

  She smiled at Belinda and came to take a seat in front of my desk. The door shut, leaving us all alone in the room. My eyes moved over her face and down her neck before settling on the top of the loose collar. I wasn’t sure how she was managing to do it, but she made even the simple clothing she was wearing look sexy.

  “Samantha.” Her name rushed past my lips a little too breathlessly, and I paused to gather my wits. “How are you doing today?” I asked.

  She patted nervously at her hair as she looked down. “I know you said to wear something sexy, but I’m not sure what’s sexy and what’s not.”

  Either she was completely clueless or she was lying. The night at the bar when she walked in, in that short black number, my cock stood at attention for her and stayed that way all night. She was sexy and whether she realized it or not, she knew how to dress that way.

  I stood tall behind the barriers I’d spent the morning building, but when the office walls began to press against me, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I started tearing those down for Samantha. Standing quickly, I moved around the desk and toward the door. I needed to get out of the room, the place where I was alone with Samantha and breathing in her sweet perfume, and I needed to get out fast.

  She sat in front of my desk, staring over at me like I’d lost it.

  “Are you coming?” I asked.

  “Where are we going?”

  I opened the door, the fresh air from outside my office rushing in and moving over my face. “Shopping. Now get up and let’s go.”

  I stepped out of the office and she was soon on my heels.

  THE RIDE TO a pricey boutique on Miami Beach was a quiet one. Both of us were aware of each other, neither of us knowing what to say, and it was hard not to mention the night in the limo and apologize again. I was tipsy, but I knew well enough what I was doing, and I also knew how badly I wanted to do it again.

  Holding the door open for her, I followed her into the establishment full of women’s clothing. I felt out of place, but at least we weren’t alone. I was doing my job without the chance of throwing caution to the wind again since we were surrounded by people.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Now we shop,” I responded.

  Out of habit, I placed my hand on the small of her back and ushered her deeper into the store. I heard her inhale deeply and quickly removed my hand from her body.

  Standing to the side, I watched as she picked through the clothing. A salesperson came over and asked if we needed any help, but we assured her we were doing just fine on our own. Although, after thirty minutes of watching Samantha shop, I felt bad for her. She really had no idea what looked nice on her.

  “Um. Help would be nice,” she said, grinning over the clothes at me.

  She was adorable.

  “Hmm… let’s see,” I said as I peered around the store.

  My eyes stopped on a golden dress across the store from us. The silk at the bottom billowed like cascading liquid gold, but the top was strapless, leaving me to picture Samantha’s beautiful shoulders and neck being completely uncovered.

  When I moved across the boutique, she followed behind me.

  “That.” I pointed at the dress. “I’d love to see you in that.”

  “I don’t know about that, Roman,” she said nervously at my side.

  Ignoring her worries, I called over the salesperson. I had her get the correct size and take it into a dressing room for Samantha. She fidgeted as the saleslady secured the dress and moved out of the way for Samantha to enter.

  I sat outside the room and waited. “I want to see it before you take it off,” I called out from my perch.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” she joked.

  I heard her inside struggling—a few tiny curses whispered behind the door. I couldn’t help but chuckle softly to myself.

  “Need some help in there?” I asked.

  The minute the question left my lips, I kicked myself. Being alone in a small space with a half-dressed Samantha Aldridge wasn’t a smart move.

  “Actually, I could use your help,” she called out.

  Again, I kicked myself.

  Standing, I stood outside the door and waited for her to open it for me. And then there she was, standing beautifully in the gorgeous gown. The light above her made her skin shine—her shoulders looked even more kissable. My eyes clashed with hers, and a tiny blush covered her cheeks. Her brown eyes looked darker than usual, as if all the great mysteries of the world were locked behind them.

  I swallowed hard and stepped closer to her. She turned, lifting her hair from her shoulders to show me that she couldn’t get the back zipped up. The urge to press my lips against the back of her neck was strong. Clearing my throat, I reached out and pulled the zipper into place.

  “There you go,” I said.

  And then I caught her openly staring at me in the mirror, and my eyes were caught in hers. She was beautiful. Beyond beautiful.

  I covered her shoulder with my palm and let my hand slide down her arm. Our eyes remained locked, and I watche
d as another pretty blush covered her cheeks.

  “You’re so beautiful, Samantha,” I whispered.

  And then she looked down at herself and took a deep breath.

  “I look bloated and old,” she said, pulling at the extra fabric at the bottom of the dress.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked.

  Her eyes clashed with mine in the mirror again. “Do what?”

  “Every time I think we’re making progress and you’re finally starting to open up and see how amazing you are, you say something bad about yourself like that.”

  Looking down, she shook her head. “Honestly? I don’t know. I guess it’s programmed in me or something.”

  “Look at yourself, Samantha. Look at how beautiful you are.”

  Still, she wouldn’t look at herself. I’d noticed that. She could look at me in the mirror, but she couldn’t look at herself. Instead, she looked down at the clothes as if that were enough.

  “No. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror,” I said, lifting her chin so she could see.

  She pulled away, turning her head and looking down again. My finger slipped around her chin and down her neck. I felt her strong pulse banging against my fingertip.

  “You’re supposed to look in it, not down,” I said, tilting her chin higher so she was able to see herself.

  Again, she turned away.

  “This is ridiculous, Roman.” She gave a fake chuckle. “I know how to look in a mirror.”

  “Is that so?” I asked. “Then how come you’re not doing it? In fact, you’re doing everything but looking in this mirror.”

  And she was. Now that she wasn’t looking at me, her eyes were all over the room, as if seeing her reflection would disgust her.

  I pressed her closer to the mirror and, again, she pulled away and turned her head. “Look in the mirror, Samantha,” I said sternly.

  She closed her eyes and sighed in aggravation. “Again, I’d like to say for the record that this is ridiculous.”

  Still, she hadn’t looked into the mirror.

  “Fine,” I said softer. “It’s ridiculous, but please just try it. For me.”

  Her eyes clashed with mine in the mirror and held, knocking the air from me again and making me look away. Finally, she adjusted her eyes and stared in the mirror at herself. The happiness in her eyes from before slowly drifted away and I felt the loss. I felt like kicking myself for making her smile melt away.

  “What do you see?” I asked.

  I knew what I saw, and it was a woman in her prime. A woman waiting to be released from her pent-up shell of boredom. I saw a woman… period—soft and sweet with curves I’d love to skim with my fingers. A woman so sweet and innocent that she still blushed. One that longed for her husband’s touch and begged with her eyes for even an ounce of attention from anyone.

  “Don’t do this to me,” she whispered sadly.

  Her shoulders were tense again. Her face strained.

  “Don’t do what?” My voice broke.

  The room was too quiet around us. The sounds of her breathing too loud. An intimacy I hadn’t expected bloomed from the moment.

  “Don’t make me say what I see.”

  I wanted to hear her response more than ever. Maybe it was selfish of me to put her through this. Especially since she was begging so sweetly, but it needed to be done. She needed to know there was so much more in that mirror. Something men like myself would give everything for.

  “Tell me what you see,” I repeated.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, taking a small piece of my heart with it.

  “I see a girl who can’t keep her husband happy, and an old woman who wishes she could be as beautiful as the girls her husband desires.” Another tear fell. “I see someone whose husband hasn’t touched her in over a year because she’s too disgusting.”

  Before I could stop her, she started for the door. Quickly, I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She collapsed into me, crying into my chest. And even though I knew it was wrong, I turned her away from the mirror and held her as she cried.

  I buried my face into her hair and took a deep breath. Her scent filled me, and I knew I was the lowest of the low in that moment. There she was, having a breakthrough, and there I was, taking her moment and selfishly breathing her in.

  The feel of her in my arms was amazing. I never wanted to let her go, but I had to. She wasn’t mine to keep. She’d never be mine.

  I turned my head to the side as I held her, looking at us in the mirror. We were pushed together tightly as she clung to me. She’d stopped crying, but she still held on tight. My eyes dragged from her long, blonde hair and down over her body. That was when I saw it.

  A nasty, black bruise marked the top of her arm. The obvious imprint of fingers marred her beautiful skin, and anger I’d never felt before struck me deep. Pulling away and forgetting all about her earlier tears, I touched her arm and she flinched.

  My eyes moved to hers to see her reaction, but there was none. Instead, I looked down into a pair of reddened eyes full of hurt and embarrassment.

  “Who did this?” I asked, running my finger over her bruise once more.

  She tensed before a forced grin covered her lips. “No one. Just me being clumsy again,” she responded.

  A lie. She was lying to me, and I knew it. I could see it in the tightness of her smile, in the tenseness of her eyes. That bastard had bruised her, and while I’d do anything to make sure Samantha was happy, I would not sit by and let her get abused by the man she loved.

  I pulled away. “We need to get back. I have an appointment in an hour,” I lied.

  The truth was that I couldn’t stand looking at her bruise anymore. The truth was that I needed to get out of the small space before I erupted. The truth was that I loved Samantha… and I’d hurt anyone who hurt her.

  ROMAN’S PROCEDURE ONLY worked when I was with him. He was building my confidence. When I was with him, I smiled more. I was happier, which was something I tried to keep tucked away in the back of my mind.

  After his sweet words in the dressing room, I felt like I could take on the world. Roman thought I was beautiful. He’d said it before, but something about the way he said it the last time made me feel like he was telling the truth. I felt it in the way he treated me—in the way he looked at me. I needed everything he was giving me, but I had to remember that I needed those things from Michael, not Roman.

  After leaving Roman’s car when we got back to his office, I got in my car and went back to the boutique. The saleslady helped me pick out a few things that looked ‘sexy’ on me, and I left there with a bag of goodies that I fully planned on wearing for Michael.

  I lugged my bags into my house and dropped them with a sigh. Tossing my purse on the table next to the front door, I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom to start digging through my bags.

  “Where have you been?” Michael asked from behind me.

  I turned to find him standing in our bedroom doorway, his brows pulled down in anger.

  “I did some shopping,” I said, turning away to continue to pull out my new clothes.

  I could practically feel his eye roll behind my back before I heard him sigh. Then he was beside me, lifting a pair of black lace panties up after I’d pulled them out of the bag.

  “Trying again, I see,” he murmured.

  It was then I noticed there was a slight slur to his words. I turned to look up at him to see that his eyes were glazed over. He had been nursing his scotch bottle already today, which had to mean he’d lost a case.

  Tugging on the sleeves of his expensive coat, he adjusted his tie. He looked nice, but I wasn’t about to waste my breath telling him that. I could tell by the look on his face he already knew it anyway.

  For the first time in a long while, I found him unattractive. The knowing smirk on his face and his perfectly gelled hair was kind of embarrassing. Roman, on the other hand, had a sweet smile—one with dimples and honesty. His hair was never perfect, bu
t the tousled style was attractive on him. He wasn’t perfectly shaved, and the memory of his rough cheek against mine in the back of his limo made me shiver.

  Suddenly, I had no desire to dress pretty for Michael. Why couldn’t he love me just the way I was? Why couldn’t he be turned on by me without me having to jump through hoops?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not trying anything.”

  Stepping around him, I slid against the wall and walked away.

  He followed me down the stairs, right on my heels. I entered the kitchen and ruffled Duke’s head before I turned to find him standing there with his hands on his hips.

  “What’s going on with you?” he asked.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said honestly.

  There was nothing going on with me. I was simply getting tired of trying when it came to him. Nothing I did changed anything anyway. What was the point? I was starting to have a hard time remembering exactly what I was fighting for.

  “No. You’re different. You never walk away from me that way, and if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I like it very much.”

  Again, I looked at him and again, he looked different to me.

  “Seriously, Michael. Don’t be such a child. You look like you were about to go somewhere important. Go. I’ll see if I can’t keep myself occupied while you’re gone.”

  I turned away from him. Opening the door to the refrigerator, I began searching for a bottle of water.

  “You aren’t going to at least ask where I’m going?” His voice echoed against the kitchen tile.

  There was a hint of insecurity in his voice that made him sound like his old self, but still, I was beginning to get annoyed. Any other time, he would leave without regard to me, but then again, wasn’t he doing exactly what I wanted him to do?

  Standing, I shut the refrigerator door and leaned against it. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Where are you going?” I asked.

  His eyes moved down my body before he looked me in the eye. It was a rare occurrence and any other time, I would have relished in his eye contact, but I couldn’t. I looked away, pretending to adjust my shirt.