Doctor, Mommy...Wife?

by Dianne Drake

  “I think the card says it all. You did read the card, didn’t you?”

  “You mean the one with the very vague thank-you?”

  “I don’t see that as vague. In fact, I think it’s pretty direct. I was thanking you.”

  “But for what?”

  “Ah, now comes the real reason for the phone call. The lady wants to know what I’m thankful for.”

  “The lady is curious.”

  “You’re acting like nobody’s ever sent you flowers before.”

  “I’ve had flowers before, even from you, but I usually know why they’ve been sent.”

  He chuckled. “Not knowing bothers you, does it?”

  “Well, if it’s for the kiss...”

  “Which kiss, specifically, as we’re beginning to develop a habit?”

  “It’s not a habit!” she exclaimed. “And the one this afternoon...”

  “Stolen kisses are often the best, don’t you think?”

  “So that’s what you’re thanking me for?” She’d hoped it was for something more than a pure physical urge. Maybe in the grand scheme of things she did want him to admit that his feelings for her were growing stronger, and the roses signified that. But they were for that silly little kiss at the exam-room door? Yes, she was disappointed. The thing was, she seemed to be wanting some big romantic gesture on one hand, and on the other she didn’t. Which clearly indicated she was confused by the whole prospect of the man called Simon Michaels.

  “What I’m thanking you for is a whole conglomeration of things—your friendship, your kisses do have some play in there, for being a great colleague...”

  “And for not firing you when you manhandled me in the hallway today?”

  “You looked at that as manhandling?”

  “I looked at it as inappropriate.”

  “Then you’ve never watched any of the medical shows on television because they’re always doing inappropriate things in empty rooms, halls, supply closets. X-ray is a particular hotbed of activity of that sort,” he continued, then laughed. “Were you a woman of the world, you’d know.”

  “I am a woman of the world. I just didn’t appreciate—”

  “And here I was thinking you were calling me to thank me for the flowers. How disappointing that you turned it into an argument.”

  “You didn’t even sign your name to the card.”

  “You’ve got that many men calling on you that it required my name?”

  “You know I don’t have any men calling on me. So what’s this about, Simon?”

  “Dinner tonight?”

  She huffed an exasperated sigh into the phone. “You think food will fix whatever’s ailing us?”

  “What’s ailing us, Del, is you. You’re too suspicious. I invited you out for a simple dinner, and all that requires is a yes or no. Yet look what you go and do. You blow it up into something that it’s not.”

  “But you’re the one making advances.”

  “And you’re the one rebuffing them. All I did was ask you out to dinner.”

  “You sent me flowers,” she reminded him.

  “For a totally separate reason, not to be confused with anything in the future.”

  “So you consider dinner tonight the future?”

  “Well, it’s certainly not in the past, is it? Especially since the evening is young. Oh, and I know you’re alone because I ran into two people pushing a baby carriage with a baby in it who bears a striking resemblance to Charlie. Nice people, by the way. They asked me to accompany them to dinner.”

  “So let me guess. You told them you hoped to have other plans in the near future.”

  “Actually, they told me to call you and ask you to come along.”

  “Which you didn’t do.”

  “Which I’m doing now.”

  “Because you knew I’d call you.”

  “Something like that.” He chuckled. “And for what it’s worth, I’m willing to take romance off the table this evening, if that’s what you want. In fact, since you’re so darned suspicious of them, I’ll even take the flowers back.”

  “I’m keeping the flowers. And I’m not going out with you to have dinner with my parents.”

  “Then where would you rather go? Over to Maria’s Italian Kitchen? That’s always good.”

  “What’s always good is a night alone with Charlie.”

  “Which you can’t have because he has other plans.”

  “So what are we fighting about, Simon?”

  “Nothing, as far as I’m concerned. I sent you some flowers and asked you out to dinner. You didn’t thank me for the flowers and you haven’t accepted my invitation. Does that about sum it up?”

  “Did anybody ever tell you that you can be frustrating?”

  “I’ve heard that said a time or two.”

  “So then it’s not just me who thinks that?”

  “Why would I admit something like that to you? We all have our peculiarities, you know.”

  “Mine being?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Your attitude. You’re so...evasive. And you’re sure as hell one of the most doubting people I’ve ever known. I mean, I sent you flowers and look at the way you’re acting about it. You’d think I’d sent you something toxic instead of roses.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, dinner.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Didn’t you ask me?”

  “I asked, but I didn’t expect you’d accept.”

  “Do you want me to turn you down? Because I can.”

  “No. No. I asked, and I wanted you to accept. But with the way we are...”

  “How are we, Simon? Tell me, how, exactly, are we?”

  “If you know, you tell me, because I don’t have a clue.”

  “Well, then, should I have said no?”

  “You should have said exactly what you said. But without all the bickering in between the question and the answer.”

  “How about we don’t bicker tonight?” she asked him.

  “No bickering. No romance. Anything else?”

  “No more flowers.”

  “Then next time I should send chocolates?”

  * * *

  “I thought I’d order out and bring it home,” he said when she arrived at his door later that evening. “Didn’t know what you’d want so I have a sampler of several different dishes. I recalled you like Italian.”

  “I love Italian,” she said, stepping into his condo. It was a converted warehouse, huge on space, and lacking furniture. But very esthetically pleasing. Immediately she began to decorate it in her head. Some easy chairs, a dining-room set, some bookshelves, a sofa... Right now all he had were a couple of chairs, a coffee table and a coat tree. “And I love this condo.”

  “Like I said, it’s too much for me. I bought it with the intention of fixing it up for Amy, but now, since that’s a no-go, I just haven’t gotten around to doing anything with it.”

  “You could fit two of my condos in it. Charlie would love all the space.”

  “Really, at six months old? He’s an advanced kid if he’s that cognizant of the amount of space around him. Of course, babies are amazing little people, but I doubt the size of this place would really impress your son one way or another.”

  “Maybe in a few years.”

  He took her jacket and showed her to the counter in the kitchen, where he’d laid out his array of food. “You feeding an army?” she asked.

  “Depends on how hungry you are.”

  “I can tell you right now that I’m not that hungry. Looks like you’re going to be eating Italian leftovers for several days.”

  “You and Char
lie can always drop by and help me.”

  “Or I can always stay at home and feed Charlie something less messy.”

  “At his age, is there anything less messy?”

  She laughed. “He doesn’t quite have his table manners down yet. But we’re working on that.”

  Simon pulled two plates from the cupboard and handed one over to Del, who was busy deciding what she was going to eat. “I opted out of spaghetti because that’s too messy. But if you want spaghetti I can run back over there and...”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “What you have here is fine. I’m always good with penne and garlic bread.” With that she dished up a plate then stood and looked at him. “Where do you propose we eat this?”

  “On the floor at the coffee table.” He held up a bottle of wine. “It’s red. Hope that’s OK with you. I know you don’t drink much but you’ve got to have wine with a fine Italian meal.”

  “Red’s fine. And I’ll take half a glass.”

  “It really does affect you, doesn’t it?” he asked, pouring the wine.

  “When you’ve seen what I’ve seen...” She shrugged. “I spent my whole pregnancy being so careful, not eating or drinking anything that wasn’t good for my baby, not engaging in risky activities. I know you can’t prevent all the misfortunes that can happen in birth but I sure tried hard to be as good as I could be. And my resolve not to drink...well, let’s just say that, while I’m not against it, I don’t see enough people exercising wisdom when it comes to what goes into their bodies.”

  “I’m sensing all the carbs in the Italian might not be the best thing I could have done.”

  “Carbs are fine. We need them. But I saw a pregnant woman the other day and she was smoking and I really wanted to tell her what she could be doing to her unborn child, but I stopped myself before I caused a scene and remembered that it’s her right to smoke if she wants. It’s not a good choice, in fact it’s a lousy choice if you ask me, but she wasn’t asking me.”

  “And the kids with FAS you treat—they’re the reason you don’t drink much.”

  “I got used to it in med school. My parents were never heavy drinkers—they’d have the occasional glass of wine but that was all. And as for me, the first time I saw a child with FAS I was glad I didn’t drink too often as I would have given it up on the spot.”

  “I like a woman with conviction.”

  “I like a woman who controls her impulses,” she said, on her way back to the living room, where she set her plate on the coffee table then sat cross-legged on the floor. “Or a man.”

  “You’re referring to the kisses?”

  “I might be.”

  “They were natural. A perfectly nice way to end the evening.”

  “What about the one you stole today?”

  “I’ll admit. I should have done better.”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?” she asked, reaching out to take her paper cup of wine.

  “What if I’m not?”

  “Then I probably shouldn’t have come here.”

  He laughed out loud. “You’re safe here, Del. Short of my getting drunk and manhandling you, you’re going to be just fine.”

  “OK, so maybe that was a pretty strong word for what you did. I’m sorry that’s the way I phrased what I think you see as a little innocent mauling,” she said, then took a bite of her pasta.

  “Mauling?”

  She shrugged. “What else would you call it?”

  “A kiss, pure and simple. A short, nearly circumspect kiss.”

  “Not circumspect enough.”

  “So it left an impression?” he asked.

  “Not an impression so much as chapped lips.”

  “Whoa now. I wasn’t there that long. If I’d really kissed you hard enough to chap your lips you wouldn’t be eating tomato sauce with such gusto tonight. You’d be wincing between bites.”

  “I’m wincing on the inside.”

  “All this over one little stolen kiss. I wish now I’d made a production out of it. Swooped you into my arms, parted your lips with my tongue, run my hands over your...well, anything of yours would do fine.”

  She took another bite of her penne and shook her head. “You’d better not be running your hands over anything of mine,” she said after she swallowed.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? To get a little adult stimulation?”

  “Adult, yes. Stimulation, definitely not.”

  Simon held up his paper cup for a toast. “Here’s to not stimulating you, even though you know you want it.”

  She pulled her cup back from his. “What I want is to eat my dinner without being verbally assaulted.”

  “But I’m not assaulting you.”

  “You said you weren’t ready for a relationship. That’s why I’ve been keeping company with you. Because I took you at your word. Thought you were safe.” She tore off a corner of the garlic bread and popped it into her mouth.

  “But I am safe. And whether or not I’m ready for a relationship...honestly, I don’t know. I tell myself I’m not, but when I’m with you...”

  Del thrust out her hand to stop him. “No! Don’t say it.”

  “Say what? That I’m attracted to you? Because I am.”

  “And I have a child.”

  “Which I’m fully aware of. That’s the reason I’m not in this to commit to a serious relationship because I still mean what I said. No women with children. Not in the long-term.”

  “But short- or long-term, I’m a package deal and nothing about that’s going to change.”

  “So we can’t play at a flirtation?”

  “Why bother?”

  He set his paper cup down hard, and some of the wine splashed out on the hardwood floor. “Damn it,” he grunted, jumping up to run to the kitchen to grab a rag to clean up his spill. When he got back, Del was shrugging into her jacket getting ready to leave. “What’s this about?”

  “We won’t work. We can play at it, or play around it, but that’s still not going to make it something it isn’t.”

  “So that second kiss. When you kissed me back, and I might add it was pretty hard, it didn’t mean anything to you.”

  “It meant we were getting too close.”

  “Which is your cue to run away. Right?”

  “I’m not running. I’m just avoiding the inevitable.”

  “By walking out my door.”

  “Look, Simon. We haven’t got our wires crossed here. We both know what the other wants, so why tempt fate and broken hearts?”

  “Because we do know what the other one wants.”

  “How does that make sense?”

  He shrugged. “I had it all worked out in my head before you came over tonight. Thought we could actually get through a semi-romantic evening and end our day on a good note.”

  “Well, the part you hadn’t thought through is that you’re getting too close. If and when I ever meet a man I want in my life, I don’t want him conditionally, and that’s all you can be—conditional. You don’t want a woman who has children and that’s a huge condition. And I’m not saying that I want to be alone for the rest of my life because that’s certainly not true. But I want a man who wants Charlie in his life, too, and who’ll love my son as much as I do. That won’t be you. It’s not your fault, though. The thing is, as much as you try to fool yourself into a relationship with me, it just won’t work because I’m not who you ultimately want.”

  “Which makes me not who you ultimately want.”

  “Does that make sense?”

  “You want to know what makes sense?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.

  He was so close she could smell the tinge of garlic on his breath. “This won’t make it right for us, Simon,” she said breathlessly.
/>
  “Who the hell cares what’s right or wrong?” he said, his voice so thick with need it was almost a growl.

  Dear God, she wanted this, and she wanted him, too. Just one time. Like their stolen kiss, a stolen moment of intimacy. In that very moment all her resolve just melted away—she forgot all the reasons why this wasn’t the sensible thing to do and just gave in to her desires. She wanted Simon. Now.

  “Do you have a bed?” she asked, twining her fingers around his neck. So what if they hadn’t defined their friendship in terms of how it was going to be? She was an adult and she could certainly be adult about a one-time fling. Or maybe it would be more than once. Who knew? Who even cared at this point? It wasn’t as if they were a couple of kids groping around in the backseat for a fast slap and tickle. They could do this...she could do this without regrets because she genuinely cared for this man. Maybe she was even falling in love with the type she said she’d never have a relationship with. It didn’t really matter, though. None of it did. She wanted him here and now and she could tell he wanted her just as much. So, all things considered, what was one night out of her life? Not much, that was what.

  “King sized.”

  “With sheets?”

  “Just put on clean ones because I was hoping...” He bowed his head down to hers and pried her mouth open with his tongue, and delved in urgently.

  The kiss was rough and demanding, like the one she’d been waiting for and had never before had. It was so full of need as he explored the recesses of her mouth and pulled her so tightly to him she could feel his erection pushing against her belly.

  “Are you sure?” he panted as he removed her jacket.

  “One time only,” she said as her own breaths started coming in short bursts. “Read nothing into it, Simon,” she said, as he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

  “Hell, reading is the furthest thing from my mind.” He threw her down on the bed and landed on top of her. “Oh, and so you know, once is never enough.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  DEL WAS NAKED, basking in the steamy spray of the shower with Simon, not anxious to leave his condo, torn between the knowledge that she wanted to stay and couldn’t, when his cell phone went off.