by Blair Grey
Leila carefully peeled off the bandages, examining how the wound was healing up. “It’s okay,” she said. “But it could use a little more cleaning. Are you okay with that?”
“Whatever you have to do, doc,” I said, winking when she started to protest, again, that she wasn’t a doctor. I thought it was cute, hearing how worried she was that someone might mistake her for a doctor. But I could tell she was all about the professionalism, and I was sure she didn’t think it was professional for me to call her that.
It made me want to keep doing it.
I held still while she cleaned out my arm. I had taken a lower dose of painkillers that morning, and now I almost regretted it, as I tried not to let her see how much she was hurting me with the disinfectant and her gentle but painful dabs at the area where the stitches were.
We were both silent while she worked, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. She finally finished, wrapping bandages back around the newly cleaned cut. She looked up, seeming surprised at how close our faces were. “Just make sure you keep changing those bandages,” she said, her voice breathless.
I wanted to pull her close to me and kiss her until she was really out of breath, but I could sense that if I did that now, I would be kissing all my chances with her goodbye. Instead, I smiled at her. “How about I take you out for lunch?” I suggested. “You said you were headed out anyway, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Leila said, frowning and chewing on her lower lip. “But I don’t have a lot of time. There’s this sandwich place down the street; I was just planning on going by there.”
“Sounds great,” I said easily. “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Leila said, seeming almost bewildered. But she led the way out of the hospital. And she was the one who started the conversation once we were seated with our food. “So you know what I do. But what is it that you do?”
“A little bit of everything,” I said, shrugging. “Call me a jack of all trades.”
Leila rolled her eyes at that. “And a master of none?”
“I guess not,” I said. “Is that a bad thing?”
Leila paused, thinking that over. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I guess it depends on what sort of business you’re caught up in.”
“Fair enough,” I said, knowing she was probably thinking back to Friday night and my knife wound. And that was a side of my business, so it wasn’t as though I could protest about it. But I didn’t want her to think of me like that for some reason. “Most of what I do is computer-based stuff. Consultancy for big companies, that sort of thing.”
“Consulting on what?”
“A little bit of everything,” I joked. I shrugged. “Technical solutions, finances, whatever they’ll pay me for. And when it’s not things they’re paying me for, I’ve dabbled in coding and a bunch of other things, too.”
“Interesting,” Leila said, and it sounded like she really meant it, not like she was just trying to find some way to respond.
“What about you; what do you do in your free time?” I asked. “When you’re not saving the lives of the many idiots of Las Cruces.”
Leila grinned crookedly. “I do a lot of sleeping,” she said.
I laughed. “Come on, that can’t be all that you do. Not that I’m opposed to the idea of you in a bed.” I paused. “Unless, of course, you have a boyfriend.”
“No, no boyfriend,” Leila giggled. She shrugged. “I have a really weird schedule, so I can take all the sleep I can get. Other than that, I spend a lot of time with my friend Rachel. She’s got an adorable little four-year-old son, and I guess they’re both sort of like my family now. I’ve known Rachel forever.”
“Always good to have family, or at least people to stand in as family,” I said seriously, thinking about the guys in Red Eyes. I didn’t want to think about the MC and our problems at the moment, though. I definitely wasn’t going to talk about any of that with Leila. Something told me she wouldn’t approve.
Suddenly, there was a beeping noise. “Shoot,” Leila muttered, looking down at her lap. “That’s my pager.”
I chuckled. “What year is it?” I quipped. “You still have a pager?”
“It’s for work,” Leila said, rolling her eyes, but I could tell she was amused as well. “Speaking of which, that means that I have to get back.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Because there are that many people coming into the hospital at noon on a Wednesday?”
“No, but we have some senior programs set up for the afternoon, and I have to make sure everything is ready. Sounds like they’re having a hard time locating some of the stuff we need, so they need me.”
“You’re their superwoman?” I asked.
“Something like it,” Leila said, smiling wearily. “I don’t know how they’d ever function without me.” Then she frowned. “That’s a really horrible thing to say.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said easily. I shrugged at her. “I can tell that you work hard. And what’s more, you seem like you have a pretty solid head on your shoulders. That means that you’re invaluable in a working situation.”
She blushed and ducked her head. “Thanks again for buying my lunch.”
“Anytime,” I said seriously. I caught her wrist as she stood up. “I really mean that,” I said. “Anytime. I’d like to see you again.”
Leila looked down at me, conflicting emotions flitting across her face. Finally, she shook her head. “I can’t do that, Marcus,” she said. “You seem like a nice guy. A little full of yourself, maybe, but a nice guy. But I’m super busy. And whatever you think could come of this, it just won’t.”
“Why not?” I pressed.
“Just because,” Leila said, shaking her head. “I really have to get back to work, though.”
“Okay,” I said gently, letting go of her wrist. She hurried off, but she glanced back over her shoulder at me as she left the restaurant, and I counted that as a win.
She wanted me; that much was clear. Between the way she had led me back to one of the examination rooms at the hospital to check on my arm, to the way that she had looked at me just now, I knew I hadn’t seen the last of her.
She was just playing hard to get. And I liked that. Enough so that I could feel my dick twitch with interest in my pants again, and I was already thinking back to my masturbation session from Friday night.
I didn’t know exactly what it was about her that got my blood so hot (but in a good way, not like the way it boiled in reaction to the Unknowns). But whatever it was, I wanted to see her again. And I was going to find a way to make that happen.
10
Leila
Thursday
On Thursday, during my break, I sat in the staff room sipping tepid coffee and staring down at the pamphlets we had about artificial insemination. They listed everything I would need to know about the procedure, including prices.
Could I do this? Would it feel like I had somehow cheated?
I wasn’t worried about what would happen once I was pregnant. I might not have a man by my side to go through all the stages of pregnancy with me, to help me out around the apartment or to rub my sore ankles. But Rachel would help me out as much as she could, and anyway, I was a strong and independent woman. I always had been.
And once the baby was born, I’d obviously need to look at scaling back my work duties. Taking on fewer night shifts, that sort of thing. But I knew there were plenty of resources here at the hospital to help out us new moms. All part of the employment package. I didn’t have to worry about that.
The main question was: did I really want to do this? What if I got artificially inseminated, only to meet the perfect guy the next week? That was just the sort of things that the universe might do to me.
“Hey, Leila?” one of the other nurses asked from the doorway. “I know you’re still on your break, but there’s a patient here who’s refusing help from any nurse other than you.” She rolled her eyes to let me know what she thought of that, and I had to laugh.
“No problem,” I said, dumping the rest of my coffee down the sink. “I was just about done anyway.” I scooped up the pamphlets and put them back on the wall where they belonged. I thought about taking them with me, but I knew all the information, and they were right there if I ever needed them.
Should I do it? I just wasn’t sure.
I followed the other nurse out of the break room and down the hall, wondering who could possibly asking for me. Usually, we rotated through, even with the regular clients. It wasn’t like we were doctors, who had to know all the specifics of a case.
“What’s wrong with the guy anyway?” I asked. Maybe that would give me some sort of clue.
“He’s complaining about chest pain, but he won’t let any of us put leads on him,” she said. “For all I know, he could just be making it up.” She pushed open the door to a room, and I walked in.
Of course. Marcus.
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself. “Seriously?”
Marcus widened his eyes innocently. “Is that any way to greet a patient?” he asked. “I could be dying, for all you know.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” I muttered, shutting the door behind us. The last thing I needed was one of the other nurses thinking that this was something I’d planned. Like I had asked my boyfriend to come visit me at work and take up some of my valuable time.
I quickly got down to business, snapping my gloves on. “I heard you’re complaining about chest pains?”
“Yeah,” Marcus said.
“Take your shirt off,” I sighed, even though I could tell that obviously wasn’t the case. He was just here to see me. I tried to decide how I felt about that. Even though I knew I could never go out with him, I was kind of pleased to see him. But I was way too busy to date anyone, and he wasn’t my type anyway.
Of course, then he took his shirt off, and all my reasoning for why I couldn’t date him went straight out the window. Fuck, he had nice abs. Nice pecs. Nice everything.
A sudden thought struck me: if I had just a one-night stand and happened to get pregnant off it, wouldn’t that be almost the same as artificial insemination, just less… clinical? But I banished the thought immediately afterward. I couldn’t just go around sleeping with random dudes and hoping to get pregnant. It would be messy and complicated, and even if I finally managed to achieve the end result that I wanted, I would feel obligated to tell the father about it and deal with all of those consequences.
I busied myself with putting some leads on his chest and going through a checklist of all his vitals. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He was doing perfectly fine. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to walk right out that door right now,” I sniffed.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” Marcus said, catching my wrist and drawing me in close to him. He reached up to lightly brush back a stray lock of hair, and I couldn’t help but shiver as his fingertips lingered against the shell of my ear. I was glad I wasn’t the one hooked up to the machines, or else he’d be able to hear just how fast my heart was beating.
His own heart was beating at a maddeningly slow rhythm, the same as it had been the whole time I’d examined him. Damn it.
“If I go to dinner with you, will you leave?” I asked. “We need this room for patients who actually need it.” My voice was breathless, and it was clear how badly I wanted him to agree.
Marcus grinned like the cat that got the cream. “That might make me feel good enough to leave,” he agreed. “I’ll also need your number, just in case.”
“Of course.” I hurriedly scribbled it down on a Post-it note and handed it over to him. “I’m only agreeing to one dinner, though. On Saturday night. And I’ll meet you at the restaurant; I don’t need you coming to my house to pick me up.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Marcus said, his eyes twinkling as he put my number carefully into his wallet, like it was some great treasure. “Seven o’clock on Saturday. I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay,” I said. “Just one more thing, though.”
“I’m waiting,” Marcus said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Although let me guess: this is the point where you tell me not to take you to too nice of a place. You don’t want this to feel like a date-date; it’s just two friends getting dinner together. No dice on that one.”
“So you want to take me somewhere nice?” I asked, surprised at how coy I sounded. God, I wasn’t that type of girl. But something about Marcus made me almost want to be. I wanted to go out on a nice date, to end up back at his place, to kiss my way all along those tattoos that covered his chest and arms.
But that wasn’t what this was about. I’d let myself go out on one date. Mainly to get Rachel off my back, nothing more. I was not going to sleep with him.
Marcus slid off the examining table, his hands hot against my hips. His fingertips snuck beneath the bottom of my shirt, playing across the soft skin there. “I’d love to take you somewhere nice,” he purred. “Not least of which is because I’d love to get you out of these scrubs and into something more flattering.”
My mind felt like it was short-circuiting. I’d love to get you out of these scrubs… It kept replaying over and over as his fingernails dragged sensuously along the skin of my lower back. I swallowed hard, hardly able to breathe. But I wasn’t that type of girl. I was here, at work, and Marcus was taking up my time. Even if he had called me off my break, it was time for me to get back to my job.
I reluctantly stepped away from him, folding my arms across my chest. “One dinner,” I repeated. “And nothing after the dinner. I’ll go back home, and you’ll do whatever you would normally do on a Saturday night.”
Marcus laughed. “Can I at least walk you home?” he asked, all boyish charm.
“No,” I said shortly, already knowing full well that if he walked me home, I was going to invite him up to my apartment and we were going to do it. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him. And as much as I wanted to cave to my desires, to let him have me, I just wasn’t that type of girl.
The last thing I needed was for him to take it as an invitation to keep showing up here at work. And I didn’t want to get involved in whatever business he was involved in which had ended with a knife cut the previous Friday night.
Marcus was still smiling, though. “All right,” he said. “One dinner, no chauffeur service, and no sex at the end of the night.” He paused like he was thinking hard. “Does that mean that during the dinner, I can still drag you off to the bathroom and have my way with you?”
I gave a full-body shiver at the thought of that, and then I blushed, knowing from the way he smirked at me that he had definitely seen that. “Of course you can’t,” I said primly. “I’m not that type of girl.”
Marcus nodded seriously at me. “I know,” he said. “Just teasing.” He caught my hand and brought it up to his lips, lightly kissing my palm, and I continued to stare at him.
“What year is this anyway?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it of all those stupid, fuzzy, romantic feelings. I tried to remember what an arrogant ass he’d been when he first walked in there on Friday night. Hell, he was just as arrogant now, demanding that I be the nurse to help him out when there wasn’t even anything wrong with him! I should hate this guy. He should be the last kind of guy I would ever go out with.
But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to ignore my interest in him.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” I said, already heading toward the door.
“See you Saturday,” Marcus agreed, leaning back against the examining table, still smirking at me.
As I walked out, I could feel his eyes on me, watching me. I knew he couldn’t see much of my shape since I was still in my scrubs, but there was something intimate about it all the same. And I couldn’t help feeling turned-on by how interested he was in me, even though I didn’t fully understand it.
I shook my head, wishing I could forget all about him. But part of me was definitely excited for Satu
rday night, already trying to figure out what I would wear. I wanted something that would impress him, even though I couldn’t for the life of me say why.
I needed to talk to Rachel. She was the only person who would be able to sort me out, both mentally in terms of my feelings for this guy and physically in terms of my date appearance.
11
Marcus
Friday
On Friday, Cameron called and asked to meet me for lunch. I had still been racking my brain trying to figure out the next step, and I hoped this meant that Cameron was onto something. Even if his idea wasn’t perfect, it would at least be more than I had been able to come up with.
I headed over to the restaurant he wanted to meet at and found him already sitting at a corner table, his hands folded over his menu as he watched people walk by outside. He nodded at me as I slipped into a seat opposite him.
“What’s going on?” I asked immediately, sensing that this wasn’t just a social planning call. He seemed nervous, almost. And even though Cameron wasn’t too involved in Red Eyes outside of his bookkeeping duties, it was strange to see him this on edge.
But he waved a hand carelessly. “Let’s get our food first,” he said.
I stared at him for a long moment, but if that was how he wanted to play things, then so be it. Inwardly, though, I was thinking of all the other reasons he might have asked me to meet him here. Had one of the Unknowns gone after him? He had been with me that day at Pete’s place when we had made those stupid kids pay their bill. Maybe one of them had recognized him and decided that he’d make an easy target.