The Millionaire and the M.D.

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The Millionaire and the M.D. Page 9

by Teresa Southwick


  “Yeah, it is a worthy cause.”

  With an odd expression on her face, she met his gaze. “On second thought, I’d like to go with you. If the invitation is still open.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Good.”

  Her pager went off and she looked at it. “I have to go.”

  “Right. I’ll call you.”

  She nodded, smiled and hurried away.

  And just like that he had a date. A few minutes ago he had the sensation of get-it-on-get-it-over-with lust. It was easy to understand. He was a guy. He wanted her, but he also liked her.

  And that was the part that made everything so complicated.

  Rebecca stared at her reflection in her mirrored closet door and wondered if Gabe would notice any difference. It wasn’t scrubs or a white lab coat, but…A few days wasn’t much notice for an event that was getting a whole lot of local news coverage. Right after agreeing to go, panic had set in because she didn’t want to embarrass him. What did one wear to a high-profile benefit?

  A quick trip to Fashion Show Mall had been fruitless. She’d found one dress guaranteed to make his eyes pop out, but it cost enough to inoculate the children of a third-world country and was therefore not in her budget. Then she’d tried very hard to make herself believe she didn’t care. Her old dress would be fine. But panic set in again when she realized she did care how she looked.

  Grace came to the rescue. They were about the same size, and one of her dresses actually worked. It was black—always a good choice. The just-this-side-of-safe neckline was held up by thin straps and showed just a hint of cleavage, and the column skirt hit her just above the knee. What had seemed perfect that morning in the light of day now didn’t cover nearly enough skin. Her satin pumps were good and the black crystal chandelier earrings just enough jewelry.

  Grace had pronounced her “hot.” Rebecca thought she looked okay, but wished with all her heart she wasn’t so fashion challenged. More important—what the hell had she been thinking?

  She’d told Gabe no. N-O. He’d been fine with that—almost seemed relieved, and the awkward moment was successfully sidestepped. And then he’d mentioned the cause behind the event—a center that would help sexual assault victims. Her heart had skipped. Her pulse had raced. And blood flow to her brain must have been interrupted just long enough, because the words “On second thought I’d like to go with you” came out of her mouth. She wouldn’t have blamed Gabe for thinking she was crazy, but he’d said okay.

  Facing an evening with him was much like her dilemma of what to wear. She wanted to believe she didn’t care. But as she waited for him to pick her up, panic was settling in because she was afraid she cared too much. On top of that, it was difficult for her to welcome a man into her personal space.

  How she wished he was a little less a gentleman and would have agreed to her suggestion to meet at The Palms. Public equaled safe. But he’d insisted on picking her up. Checking the clock on the nightstand beside her bed, she calculated fifteen minutes to spare. Time enough to put her key, credit card, cash and identification into her evening bag. When Gabe arrived she would be wearing her wrap, and after opening the door they would simply walk out. Problem solved.

  As she was going downstairs, her phone rang. When she answered, it was Gabe at the security gate and she had no choice but to buzz him through. He would be there in less than a minute. Before she had time to do more than pull her wrap out of the closet, the doorbell rang.

  She looked through the peephole and could clearly see him in the porch light. Not only was he a gentleman, he was early. What was that about?

  Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door. “Hi,” she said brightly. Too brightly. She sounded like a perky idiot.

  “Hi.”

  The peephole hadn’t done him justice! The event was black tie optional and he’d taken the option. In his traditional black tux with crisp white shirt, he looked incredibly handsome and sophisticated. And she was so out of her league.

  She glanced down and smoothed her skirt when she noticed he was staring at her. “Is something wrong? The dress isn’t right. I knew it—”

  He reached over and touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “You look beautiful.”

  Was it her imagination or did his voice sound just a bit huskier than usual?

  “I didn’t know what to wear. This is actually Grace’s dress. She let me borrow it. I’ve never been to one of these benefits, and it was such short notice. I hope I look okay. You guys have it easy. A tux is a tux. But dresses can be too casual, too dressy. Too—” The amused expression on his face stopped her. “I’m babbling.”

  “Most charmingly.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “I don’t think you’re the fishing-for-compliments type. And I’m not the kind of guy who says something he doesn’t mean. So, one more time. You look beautiful. In fact, you take my breath away. Believe it.”

  “Okay.”

  They stared at each other for several moments and he said, “Are you ready to go?”

  She wished. This was the moment she’d hoped to avoid by being prepared to walk right out the door. He was so dashing, so sexy, and she’d never wished more to be normal than she did at this moment. In a normal world she wouldn’t give a thought to inviting a man into her home. It only took that one time and the subsequent betrayal and violation that followed to change her forever.

  “I…I’ll be ready to go in a second. I just have to throw some things in my evening bag.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “What?”

  He looked down and blew out a long breath, then met her gaze. “I just want to apologize.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “I haven’t been out with anyone since—” He stopped, and the muscle in his jaw jerked. “Since before Hannah. It’s been a very long time for me and I’m rusty.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “No. It’s not. Hell of a time to think of this, but I should have brought flowers. A corsage. Something. Right?”

  “I am so not the right person to ask.”

  That’s when she realized he was still standing on the porch because she hadn’t invited him inside. She stepped back and pulled the door wide. “Please come in. I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Thanks.” He followed her inside and looked around. “Nice place. Good location, too.”

  She lived in the Inspiration Point condo complex off Paseo Verde between Green Valley Ranch Parkway and Pecos Road.

  “I like it here. Not far from my office and The District is just down the street.”

  “I hear it has great shopping and restaurants.”

  “I hear that, too.”

  “You haven’t been there?” he asked, surprised.

  She shook her head. “I don’t go out much, either.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants.

  “I’m a busy doctor.”

  “You’re also a beautiful woman.”

  What did she say to that? God she hated being a geek. One could never go wrong being polite. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “But it’s nice of you to say so,” she amended.

  “Stating the obvious isn’t nice. Just the truth.”

  “Would you like a tour of the place?” she asked, suddenly eager to take the attention off herself.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I liked the open concept. This is the great room with fireplace. The kitchen is there,” she said, leading him farther inside.

  “Nice fireplace. The black granite in the kitchen is really dramatic with the white cupboards, too.”

  “Yeah. It’s one of the things that sold me on the place. And the view.” The whole back of the condo was sliding glass doors and windows that showed off the lights from The Strip.

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “Three be
drooms and a loft. And more view from the master bedroom.”

  “Sounds nice,” he said, still looking around. “How long have you been here?”

  “Not long.” She followed his gaze to the stack of boxes in the corner and said, “I’m still unpacking.”

  “I can see that.” He looked at his watch. “We should probably get going.”

  She’d been on guard for an invitation to see her upstairs and was surprised when he suggested leaving. Good to know they were on the same page. Although, the fact that he didn’t ask was more disappointing than she would have thought. In fact, he was nothing like she’d expected.

  She’d been braced for aggressive behavior. He was so charmingly uncomfortable, so refreshingly honest, that he put her at ease. It was both good news and bad.

  “Right. Let me just get my things.” Her purse was sitting on the window seat in the entryway and she quickly grabbed the essentials. Then she slid her black shawl over her shoulders and said, “I’m ready.”

  “Okay.”

  Gabe opened the door and let her precede him outside where she turned and locked up. Then he took her hand and settled her fingers into the bend of his elbow as he walked her down the several steps to where his silver car waited at the curb.

  For the first time since Grace had said it, Rebecca felt hot. All over. And it had nothing to do with the way she looked. It was all about how Gabe made her feel. This must be what it was like to be the prom queen who had a date with the most popular guy at school.

  She was grateful they were leaving, but not for the reason she would have expected.

  It was herself she didn’t trust.

  Chapter Eight

  It wasn’t often Rebecca was a passenger and could enjoy the lights on the Las Vegas Strip. She loved the way the castle turrets of the Excalibur were lit up. And Paris’s Eiffel Tower. And the elegance of Bellagio. After driving north on the 15 Freeway, Gabe exited at Flamingo Road and turned left, passing the Rio before turning left into The Palms Hotel. The BMW’s smooth ride didn’t hide its harnessed power and somehow that increased the level of her excitement. She would have preferred canceling altogether before Gabe had confessed his nervousness, and she upgraded her present condition from critical to guarded. She was out with a man and so far it wasn’t awful.

  They pulled up to the valet, left the car in good hands, then walked inside, assaulted by the sound of ringing slot machines and the buzz of voices. Following the wooden floor in a circle, they spotted the signs directing everyone to the event, then took the elevator up to the appropriate floor. After checking in at the registration desk, they joined the crowd already gathered for the benefit. Gabe took two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and handed one to her.

  He held up his glass. “What should we drink to?”

  Before she could answer let’s drink to geeks gone wild, microphone static and a call for attention drowned out conversation. Everyone turned to an area at the front of the room where a fortyish woman in a floor-length royal-blue gown stood.

  “Welcome. I’m Trish Kendrick, Director of the Southern Nevada Rape Crisis Foundation, an organization committed to helping those touched by sexual violence to heal from the trauma.” Vigorous applause followed and when it waned she continued. “We know there are many worthy causes in need of your support and we are incredibly grateful that you chose us.

  “Thanks to your generosity we can continue to fund many worthwhile programs.” Trish put her hands together and clapped as she let her glance scan the whole room. “We’re dedicated to assisting victims and their families, but education is the key to creating a community free of violence where all of us can live without fear.”

  Cheers and enthusiastic applause erupted when she paused.

  Trish nodded her approval. “Some of our education programs are presentations to age-appropriate high school students. Too many are under the impression that this crime is perpetrated by a stranger jumping out of the shadows. Unfortunately that happens, but over half of the people attacked are acquainted with their attacker. Teens and college age students often experience the violence. And we need to get the message out. Don’t keep rape a secret. And you are not alone.”

  Rebecca looked up at Gabe and saw the intense, angry expression that made the muscle in his jaw jerk. She knew he was thinking about Amy and her own suspicions about how the baby was conceived. How she hoped she was wrong.

  Trish continued, “Our educational programs include guidelines on something as simple as what yes, no and maybe mean. But there’s no maybe about my gratitude. Thank you for coming. Have a wonderful evening. And don’t forget to visit the room next door where items are on display for the silent auction.”

  Rebecca was lost in her own thoughts as the applause decreased, then faded away. A sensation of sadness slid over her. The violence she’d experienced had been so incredibly personal, intimate and vile and she’d done everything wrong. She’d kept it a secret and handled the consequences alone.

  “Rebecca?”

  She looked up. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  Ghosts of the trauma that would never go away. She tried to smile. “It’s nothing.”

  “Were you thinking about Amy?”

  She nodded, glad she didn’t have to lie. But she’d also been thinking about herself. Then something occurred to her. “Did you buy tickets to this fund-raiser because of what I said about my suspicions?”

  “It tipped the scales,” he admitted.

  “The center is there for family members, too. I don’t know that I’m right about your sister, but clearly she doesn’t want to talk about how this pregnancy happened. And it’s probably not a good idea to force the issue. You might want to contact them for counseling on how to deal with the situation.”

  “I might just do that.” He held his glass up again. “Let’s drink to communication.”

  “Good idea.” She smiled, then tapped her glass to his.

  “Let’s go check out what’s up for auction so I can spend some more money.”

  “I would be very happy to help spend your money.”

  “Excellent.”

  They moved through the crowd, and Rebecca felt his hand at the small of her back, guiding and protective. It was courteous, thoughtful, qualities of a man well brought up. His mother would be proud. That didn’t come close to describing Rebecca’s feelings. The touch sent shivers of awareness over her skin, making her tremble.

  Gabe looked down. “Are you cold?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  After waiting in a short line, they made it inside the room and wandered past several tables displaying items donated by local businesses and individuals. There was jewelry, spa packages, hotel stays, paintings and blown glass contributed by a prestigious gallery.

  Rebecca stopped to admire a porcelain figure titled “Woman.” The sign also said suggested bids started at a thousand dollars. “This is really beautiful.”

  “It is,” he agreed.

  But when Rebecca glanced up, he wasn’t looking at the figurine. He was staring at her with a sort of painful intensity that made her heart race.

  “We’re holding up the line,” she said, wishing that she was more witty, glib and entertaining. This was on-the-job training, practice in the field and maybe next time she would handle it without turning into the crowd control police.

  Rebecca had always been busy with classes and studying and skipping grades in school. She’d never acted like a schoolgirl when she was one, but probably this awkwardness is what it would have felt like. Now she was too old for it, and falling on her face.

  Maybe if her parents had known how to guide their gifted daughter, things would have been different. Maybe if someone had advised her to slow down and savor the moment instead of worrying that she wasn’t doing justice to her high IQ she might hav
e learned to be comfortable in her own skin. But now her skin was hyperaware every time she brushed against Gabe. When he casually put his arm around her, she wanted to giggle and sigh and tremble like that schoolgirl she’d never been and indulge this attraction that just kept growing.

  And her reaction proved the old saying. “You could dress the dweeb up, but you couldn’t take her anywhere.” Not if you wanted to have a good time.

  Except, Gabe wasn’t after a good time. He hadn’t asked her here. Not exactly. Jack had practically shamed him into it. Something she would do well to remember.

  “Hold on,” he said. He took a piece of paper from the table and wrote on it, then put it in the box provided.

  She blinked. “You made a bid?”

  “Yes.”

  “More than the minimum?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Of course. Because millionaires could do that. But millionaires were also human. No matter how much it seemed that guys like him were perfect, she knew that wasn’t so. He was a golden boy with a broken heart. And he’d said it would never heal. It was a bitter pill for a healer to swallow, but the woman in her would be wise to heed the warning.

  The evening progressed with dinner and dessert. Afterward, the results of the silent auction were announced and Gabe’s bid had been accepted. He made arrangements to have the figurine delivered to his home, then they got to the dancing portion of the evening. A dj took over the microphone and played a variety of up-tempo songs that by silent agreement they ignored. Then the slow, smoky strains of a ballad began.

  Gabe sighed. “I haven’t done this for a really long time, but if you’d like to dance, I’m game.”

  He was leaving her an out. If she were smart, she’d take it. “I’d like that.”

  Apparently she wasn’t as smart as everyone thought. But this was about wanting more than anything to have an acceptable excuse to be close to him, spend time with him.

  As they made their way to the floor in the center of the room, he did the hand at the back thing. Then she turned and he took her in his arms and settled her securely against him. It was quite a lovely place to be, and she wanted to snuggle into the warmth and sigh with contentment. Instead she concentrated on following his lead, stumbling only once or twice.

 

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