On the other hand, he was ready for his staff to get back to business without looking over their shoulders to see if she was watching. He was ready to stop calculating the ROI of every procedure and meeting and bandage.
He sighed. He was ready to stop wishing maybe she was more than a colleague.
“You want coffee?” Molly appeared at his elbow. “No offense, but you look like hell.”
“Thanks, Mols. I hear that a lot these days.”
Molly sat down across from him, probably grateful for a break. The woman defined Italian spitfire, but he could tell she’d been run ragged by the dinner crowd. Her parents had owned the restaurant since she was just a glimmer in their eyes, and although she had a business degree and a full-time job at the Snowflake Village offices, she still pulled more waitressing shifts here than she had when they’d been seniors at Echo Lake High.
She twisted her dark hair into a ponytail, fanning her neck with a menu. “Ethan joining you tonight?”
“Nope.”
Molly shook her head. “Told you this would happen when they got married. Now they just want to stay home all the time.”
“If you lived in the owners’ half of Avery’s House, would you ever want to leave?”
“Nope. But I gave all that up when I let Ethan marry Josie instead of me.”
Josh laughed. “Is that how that went?”
“Something like that.” She fluttered her fingers. “Or, y’know, they’d been in love since they were in diapers and finally realized it. One or the other.”
“Right.”
“You eating alone?”
Josh sighed. “No, actually.”
“Omigod, do you have a date?” Molly’s eyes went wide.
He looked around, sure the entire pub had heard her. “Could you maybe try not to sound like that would be such a miracle?”
“Wouldn’t it, though?”
“Shut up, Mols.”
She laughed. “Just kidding. Is it a real date, though?”
“No. It’s not any kind of a date. It’s a business dinner.”
“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Boring.”
“I wish.”
It definitely wouldn’t be boring. Not with Delaney, anyway. The biggest challenge would be keeping his attention on her little notebook full of questions, rather than on her silky neck, or the way her hair fell right to her collarbone, or the way her lips—
Molly raised her eyebrows. “Well, it’s Friday night. Maybe it can turn into a date after the business part is done.”
He cleared his throat, blocking the visions. “No, it can’t. We work together.”
“Oh. Right.” Molly nodded sagely. “I forgot. Nobody at that hospital ever dates anyone else who works there.”
“Did I say shut up yet?”
“At least once, yes. But I’m used to it because you’ve been saying it since third grade, and I know you don’t really mean it. Plus, you’re meeting her here, which must mean you want me to check her out for you and thumbs-up or thumbs-down her potential, right?”
“God, no.”
“Oh.” Molly tried to look hurt. “But I’m practically a professional at it. Did I not totally call Cherise?”
He grimaced, remembering the traveling nurse who’d come through one spring. She’d been bubbly and fun … and completely psychotic in the end.
Molly raised her eyebrows. “Well? Did I?”
“Yes, you totally called Cherise.”
“And Melody?”
“Melody, too.”
“Ooh, and who was that one—you know—with the crazy hair?” Molly circled a hand over her head.
“Dara.”
“Right! Dara.” Molly laughed. “Yeah, that was scary. You’re lucky I had a fake kitchen fire that night.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “I’ll give you that one.”
Too bad none of them had figured out Nicole before it was too late.
Molly got up, tapping him on the nose and squeezing his shoulder. “Just give me the signal if you need me to pretend the place is on fire again.”
He rolled his eyes. “I won’t need the signal.”
“You don’t know that. Coffee with three creamers if you need an extraction. I can go less dramatic than fire.” She leaned down and planted a kiss on his head. “Have fun. I’ll be back when she gets here. Ten bucks she orders seltzer with lime. And a salad.”
She stuck her hand out to seal the bet, and again Josh rolled his eyes, but he shook her hand. “Ten bucks she goes for the special.”
As soon as Molly cleared the counter and headed back into the kitchen, Josh looked toward the front door, and had to actually catch his breath as he saw Delaney standing there. She’d changed from her scrubs into a sweet little sundress that he’d swear matched her blue eyes, and she’d pulled her hair into some sort of half-up-half-down configuration that—with the sundress—made her look like she’d just barely left college.
And though he knew she must not have had more than ten minutes at her house to get ready, it even looked like she’d put on makeup. Just a touch—there was a little color in her cheeks, and a sheen to her lips that he hadn’t noticed before—but it was enough to make her look like a woman meeting … a date.
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, then got up to go meet her, wishing for an insane second that it was.
* * *
When Delaney walked through the front door of Bellinis, she could practically taste the garlic, and her mouth watered. She just hoped her stomach didn’t growl again before dinner got to the table.
And then she spotted Dr. Mackenzie sitting in a back booth across from the petite brunette whose parents owned Bellinis. They were laughing like old friends, but then the waitress stood up and kissed him fondly on the head, and Delaney felt her stomach clutch.
Oh.
Maybe the good doctor wasn’t single, despite Megan’s pipeline information that he most assuredly was.
She hated how her stomach fell, felt stupid that she’d taken the extra minute to dash on lip gloss. Felt really ridiculous for waking up three times this week with dreams of him fresh in her mind.
But this was good to know, right? Before she harbored any stupid delusions of being more than a colleague?
Yes, it was definitely good to know.
And when had she started harboring delusions, anyway? She shook her head. She needed to focus. So she’d reapplied her mascara and made sure she’d tamed her hair into some semblance of order before she left the condo. So she’d tried on three different dresses and left them flung all over the bedroom when she’d left. So she’d headed out the door, then back inside to spray just a teeny bit of perfume on her wrists.
It was just a business dinner. Nothing more, nothing less, even though her pulse had started racing when he’d invited her. It was pretty pathetic that a business invitation had made her stomach jump and her cheeks flush as she’d raced home and gotten ready.
She took a deep breath, gathering her stupid senses. This was not a date. Not. A. Date.
And then he spotted her, and she saw him take a breath before he pasted on a smile and got up to greet her. Fabulous. He looked like he was dreading this dinner just as much as he’d dreaded having her on his floor all week. Heck, he’d probably worked out an extraction signal with his girlfriend while he’d been waiting for Delaney.
She walked toward him, and he showed her to the booth and waited politely while she sat. As he settled into his side, their knees bumped, and though she’d have much rather let them brush idly throughout dinner, she pulled hers back immediately.
“Sorry,” she blurted, then felt her cheeks heat. Good Lord, she’d blushed more in the past week than she had in years.
“No, I am.” He grimaced. “I always forget how—cozy—these booths are. I should have chosen a table, but I figured it’d be easier to talk back here.”
Just then, his girlfriend appeared at the table, smiling widely. “Hey there. I’m Mol
ly. Can I get you a drink?”
Delaney suddenly felt stupid for wasting those precious minutes on mascara and perfume. Molly here was a petite little Italian beauty with gorgeous hair and a killer bod, and Delaney had watched her flirt up customers for years. She and Dr. Mackenzie would make adorable children.
Delaney cleared her throat nervously, kicking herself for doing so. “Could I just have some seltzer? With a lime?”
“Absolutely.”
She saw Molly bite her lip in amusement as she turned to Dr. Mackenzie. What was so funny about seltzer with lime? “And for you, doc?”
Doc?
He tipped his head in consternation, rolling his eyes. “The usual, Mols.”
“Coming right up.” Molly spun and headed back to the kitchen, and Delaney picked up her menu, trying not to look at the man who was clearly already spoken for.
But it was impossible. As he glanced down at his own menu, she took in his dark brown, thick hair and impossibly long eyelashes that she knew hid those gorgeous blue-green eyes. He’d removed his tie, leaving his shirt open at the neck, and an image of her lips on his collarbone made her swallow hard.
He looked up, catching her watching, and she felt heat envelop her cheeks.
Again.
“See anything good?” His eyebrows were up, and she couldn’t tell if he meant the double entendre, or if she was just hearing it that way.
“Um, yes.” God, yes. “Everything looks good … here.”
She closed her eyes and slid the menu upward to hide her face. She needed to get a grip. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dated, like, ever. She had proverbial notches on her bedpost. A few, and they were faded, but still.
Sitting here in this booth, in this dimly lit pub, with this drool-worthy man was kicking off all sorts of fantasies she hadn’t even known she harbored.
Molly chose that moment to arrive back at the table with their drinks—Delaney’s seltzer and some sort of foamy draft beer for him. She flipped open her pad, and after Delaney ordered a salad, she knew she saw Molly wink as she turned to get Dr. Mackenzie’s order.
“I’ll have the special.” He slid his beer over. “Delaney? Don’t you want something besides rabbit food?”
“You know what? Actually, I do. I’ll have the special, too. Thank you.”
She saw a triumphant look pass from him to Molly, and now she knew they’d been talking about her before she’d come in. She just wished she knew what he’d said.
When Molly headed back to the kitchen, Delaney reached for her notebook. She was getting the strong sense that he was anxious to be free of this dinner—and her—so she might as well get started putting him out of his misery.
However, when she set the notebook on the table and went fishing for a pen, he picked up the little pad and put it down on the seat beside him.
“Later,” he said. “Until I have food, I can’t think. And since you’ve worked at least as many hours as I have today, I imagine you could use an hour of downtime before we tackle this, right?”
“Maybe?” She wasn’t sure what to answer. He suddenly didn’t sound like a man quite so eager to be free of her.
He picked up his beer and handed her the glass of seltzer. “Shall we toast?”
She laughed uncomfortably. “Depends on whether you still think I’m the enemy.” She peered into her drink. “Did you have your girlfriend spike this, by any chance?”
“My—” He looked confused until she pointed at Molly. “Oh. Molly. No, not my girlfriend.”
“Oh. Sorry. I thought—”
“Just friends,” he said, and was she imagining the firmness in his tone? Was he making really sure she knew? Her stomach commenced its earlier gymnastics at the possibility he really was single.
He sipped his beer. “And no, I am pretty convinced you’re not the enemy. Never thought you were. As for the spiking, as far as I know, you haven’t given her any reason to take out her Italian temper on you.”
“I hear a yet at the end of that sentence.”
He laughed. “She is sort of a mama bear in a tiny package. Better be careful.”
“Gotcha. Did you work out some sort of signal before I got here, in case I try to talk about cutting your favorite programs? Like, one blink—add chili pepper to her mostaccioli—two blinks—chili pepper and jalapenos?”
“Absolutely.” He laughed softly as he set down his beer and looked at her intently. “So just a request for you. Any chance you could stop calling me Dr. Mackenzie and use my first name? I’m pretty sure you know what it is by now.”
Delaney cringed. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Because?” He drew his eyebrows together.
“Because the voice of my father—who is very much alive, I should clarify—will haunt me. He beat a lot of things into my head over the years, and one of them was thou shalt always address doctors with their appropriate title.”
“I’m going to take a wild stab here and guess that he’s a doctor?”
“Surgeon, actually.” She nodded. “Cardiothoracic.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”
“That’s a pretty standard reaction.” She tried to quell the feeling that always rose when people got unduly impressed with his position, but had never met the man.
“One that’s gotten old over the years?”
“Little bit, yeah.” She tipped her head, feeling guilty. “But he deserves it. He’s worked hard for a long time to get where he is.”
“That’s quite a pair of shoes to fill.” He shrugged. “Unless he’s one of those dads who’d be happy with whatever career choice you made, of course.”
“He’s not. Doctor or bust.”
“Ouch. But you’re in medicine, at least.”
“Not the same, unfortunately. I don’t get any fancy initials after my name.”
Dr. Mackenzie tipped his head. “MBA doesn’t count?”
“They’re not the right initials.”
“Ah, I see.” He took a sip of his beer. “Finance is a perfectly respectable field. I mean, it’s no secret between us that it’s my least favorite department at Mercy, but it’s—necessary.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”
He laughed. “Sorry. So did dear old dad have med-school dreams for you?”
Delaney nodded. “Despite the fact that I fainted on frog dissection day in tenth grade, yes.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” She lifted her hair and pointed at her right temple. “I still have the scar from where I hit the lab table on the way down.”
He leaned closer, then reached out his index finger to trace the scar. She swallowed hard at his touch.
“Ouch,” he said. “You must have gone down hard.”
He brushed her hair back down over the scar, and maybe it was her imagination, but he didn’t seem to want to pull his hand back.
“Ten stitches. That should have been my first sign that med school would be a disaster.”
“Wait. Did you actually go to med school?”
“Did.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “Did you want to go? Or did you have to?”
“A little bit of both, probably, but I really did want to be a doctor.”
“Wow.” He raised his eyebrows as he drank another swallow of his beer. “What happened?”
She took a deep breath, still feeling the choke of failure every time she pictured herself throwing up in the ladies’ room outside the dissection suite. “I dropped out during hands.”
He set down his beer, studying her, but instead of making her feel uncomfortable, it made her feel—warm. Then he reached across the table and touched her fingers with his—just a light stroke, not even a squeeze—before he pulled back.
“Hands were the worst for me, too.”
“Really?”
“Totally. And I didn’t expect it. That was the hardest part.”
“Exactly.” She sipped her seltzer, grateful for his understandi
ng.
“So that was it for you? You never went back after that?”
Delaney shook her head. “I just—couldn’t. Straw, camel’s back, you know. Other—stuff—had happened, too.” Like two weeks before that, when she’d seen the bulletin board in the oncology suite’s break room, full of pictures of children who were no longer here, and had run out of the building in tears.
“And yet after all of that, you still chose to work in a hospital?”
She nodded. “In the executive wing, as you’ve pointed out on more than one occasion. We deal with numbers up there, not humans.”
Molly appeared with their salads, sliding them onto the table and setting down silverware. “Enjoy! Dinners will be out in a few minutes.”
Delaney tossed her salad with her fork, dying to dig in, but not wanting to appear half-starved. “Does anyone call you Joshua?”
“Um, my mother used to when I was in trouble. Millie does sometimes when she’s perturbed at me. Why?”
“Because I’ve been thinking of you as Dr. Mackenzie all week, and you just asked me to call you Josh, and … I’m sorry. It’s just—you seem like more of a Joshua to me.”
“Huh. I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I’m sorry.” She waved her fork. “Just struck me. I’ll try to call you Josh.”
“I answer to either, but if I twitch first, it’s because I think I’m in trouble.” He winked. “However, I think it’ll sound much better coming from you than it does from Millie.”
Delaney felt her cheeks heat up at his words. Was he flirting? Sort of? It’d been so long since she’d played the dating game that she couldn’t even tell anymore.
Not that this was a date. Of course it wasn’t.
But in the garlic-scented air, in a booth small enough that they kept bumping knees, just close enough that she could tell he’d jumped in the shower before coming here to meet her, it was hard not to imagine what it might be like if this was a date.
And despite the professional ethics that should have had her running the other way, all she wanted to do was stay.
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