Romancing the M.D.

by Maureen Smith

  “Maldito sea!” Victor exploded, cutting her off with a disgusted wave of his hand. “Can you really be this naive? They’ve been trying to cut back on costs for months, and this lawsuit just gave them a convenient excuse to do so!”

  Tamara gaped at him. “You can’t be serious! Are you actually suggesting that they’re happy about this lawsuit? The Matthews family is dragging the hospital’s name through the mud and withdrawing their financial support. In what alternate universe is that a good thing?”

  “I’m not saying they’re happy about the damn lawsuit,” Victor ground out through tightly clenched teeth. “I’m saying that they’re capitalizing on their misfortune at the expense of advancing medicine.”

  Tamara scowled impatiently. “What part of ‘putting a freeze on funding’ did you not understand? They didn’t say we’re never getting the money. They’re just postponing the funding until the lawsuit has been resolved.”

  “Do you have any idea how many years that could take? Do you have the slightest clue how long this hospital could be tied up in litigation?” Victor shook his head at her, torn between incredulity and exasperation. “My God, you’re naive.”

  Tamara bristled. “I’m not naive!”

  “The hell you aren’t!”

  They didn’t even realize that the elevator had reached their floor until the doors opened and an amused voice intoned dryly, “Uh-oh. The Bickersons are at it again. We’d better wait for the next one.”

  Tamara and Victor didn’t bat an eye as the doors slid closed, leaving them alone like two heavyweight boxers slugging it out inside a ring. Intent on finishing their heated bout, Victor punched a random button, setting the elevator in motion again.

  “I am so sick and tired of your maverick bullshit,” Tamara snarled, enunciating each word with a sharp poke to his muscled chest. “I’m tired of the way you saunter around here thinking that you’re smarter than everyone, that you have all the answers—”

  “And I’m tired of dealing with a Goody Two-shoes who can’t take a shit without making sure it’s done by the book,” Victor snarled back, eyes glittering with fury as he got in her face. The heat between them was scorching enough to set the entire building ablaze.

  Heart pounding erratically, Tamara glared up at him, eyes narrowed to cold slits. “It would serve you right if Dudley tossed you out on your ass.”

  Victor laughed caustically. “Funny that you should mention my ass, when yours is the one Dudley couldn’t take his eyes off as you left the room. But you were so busy trying to rescue me from myself that you didn’t even notice.”

  Heat stung her face. “You think I give a damn about that?” she fired back. “Everyone knows what a total lech Dudley is. But what does that have to do with you being a complete jack—”

  Without warning, Victor caught her face between his hands and crushed his mouth to hers.

  She gasped, and instinctively grabbed for his arms. As his thick, hard muscles flexed beneath her palms, she tried to summon the willpower to push him away. But she couldn’t. Not right then. His lips were so soft and warm, more temptingly lush than any man’s had a right to be.

  She trembled as his tongue snaked out and traced her lips, then plunged inside her mouth with a demanding hunger that left her senses reeling. As he stroked and sucked her tongue, arousal pounded between her thighs, wetting her panties.

  Another moment of this, and she’d be begging Victor to screw her right where they stood, consequences be damned.

  Stricken at the thought, she wrenched her mouth from his and stumbled backward, staring at him in stunned disbelief.

  Something like guilt flickered in his smoldering eyes. “I’m sor—”

  She slapped him across the face. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she hissed.

  They glared at each other, the air between them charged with an explosive combination of anger, hostility and raw animal lust.

  When the elevator stopped on an empty floor, Victor growled, “I’ll take the stairs.”

  Tamara watched him stalk off down the hallway. As soon as the elevator doors closed, she brought trembling fingers to her swollen lips and sagged weakly against the wall. Her nipples were hard, and her clit was throbbing so violently she felt the reverberations in her skull. She couldn’t have been more shaken than if an earthquake had rattled the ground beneath her feet.

  “Dear God,” she whispered.

  She’d survived the desertion of her father, and the years of poverty and uncertainty that had followed. She’d survived being hospitalized after a common cold worsened into life-threatening pneumonia. She’d even survived the rigors of medical school, and was coping with the stressful, grueling eighteen-hour days demanded of her.

  But after everything she’d been through and had successfully conquered, it staggered Tamara to realize that her downfall might ultimately come in the form of a tall, dark, blue-eyed devil.

  Chapter 6

  “Is it true?”

  Victor glanced up from the discharge summary he’d been working on to watch as one of his fellow interns, Ravi Patel, sat across the table from him.

  It was Saturday afternoon. After making his morning rounds and ordering lab tests for two patients he suspected of having coronary artery disease, Victor had grabbed some paperwork and headed outside to the hospital’s landscaped courtyard to enjoy something he rarely experienced anymore—daylight.

  He frowned at Ravi. “Is what true?”

  “Did you get into an argument with Dr. Dudley yesterday?”

  Victor grimaced. No wonder he’d been getting strange looks from his colleagues all morning. “Where’d you hear that?” he asked warily, though he could take an educated guess.

  “Dr. Dudley’s assistant has been telling everyone that you told him off, accused him of withholding money for a grant and called him a bureaucrat right to his face. Is that true?”

  “Mierda,” Victor muttered, tossing down his pen and scrubbing a hand over his face.

  “Holy shit!” Ravi exclaimed, staring at him with an expression of awe and incredulity. “You really did say those things?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ravi grinned broadly, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. “You’re crazy, man. Dr. Dudley’s the chief of staff. No one talks to him like that.”

  “I know,” Victor said darkly. “Believe me, I’ve already heard more than an earful.”

  “His assistant says he was royally pissed for the rest of the day. He even told Dr. Balmer that he’s thinking about taking disciplinary action against you.”

  Victor blew out a deep, ragged breath and shoved his hands through his hair. “Great.”

  Ravi’s grin widened. “I don’t know if telling him off was the smartest thing you’ve ever done, Aguilar, but I definitely admire your cojones. You’ve got some brass ones.”

  “For all the good they’ll do me,” Victor grumbled.

  Ravi laughed, shaking his head. “Here’s my suggestion. If Dudley threatens to bounce you out of the residency program, just tell him you’ll sue the hospital like Terrence did, and that should make him back off.”

  Victor smiled grimly. “Thanks for the advice, counselor.”

  “Anytime.” Leaning back in the chair, Ravi pushed his wavy black hair off his forehead. The gesture reminded Victor of Dr. Balmer’s running commentary about him and Ravi needing haircuts.

  “So what’s going on between you and Tamara?” Ravi asked abruptly.

  The question caught Victor off guard. He stared at his colleague. “Nothing,” he lied automatically. “Why?”

  Ravi gave him a knowing look. “Come on, man. You don’t think anyone has noticed the way you and Tamara have been acting this week?”

  “We’ve hardly even been around each other.”

  “Exactly. It’s like you’ve both been going out of your way to avoid each other. And then yesterday, Jaclyn and Isabelle overheard you two arguing on the elevator. They said you didn’t even notice them standin
g there.”

  Victor scowled. “Don’t you people have better things to do than gossip about your fellow interns?”

  Ravi grinned unabashedly. “What can I say? We have to have something other than Terrence’s lawsuit to talk about. And quite frankly, you and Tamara are far more interesting.”

  “Why?” Victor groused. “Because we were caught arguing? That’s nothing new.”

  Ravi gave an amused snort. “Tell me about it. Why do you think we call you two the ‘Bickersons’? You’re always at each other’s throats.” He paused, a note of sly insinuation entering his voice. “It kinda makes some of us wonder…”

  Victor didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “Wonder what?”

  “Well, you know how the saying goes. There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

  Victor swallowed hard, thinking of the brief but explosive kiss he and Tamara had shared yesterday. Or, rather, the kiss he’d stolen from her. He couldn’t help himself. Arguing with the damn woman turned him on like nothing he’d ever encountered before. One moment he’d want to throttle her. The very next moment, he’d be struck with a fierce, powerful urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless. So that’s what he’d done. And she’d felt and tasted so good, he’d nearly lost control of himself. If that kiss had lasted a second longer, he would have lowered her to the floor or taken her against the wall—whichever got him inside her faster.

  Last night he’d lain awake for hours, his body burning with lust as he tortured himself with mental replays of the steamy encounter. As he fought the urge to get himself off again like some horny adolescent, he’d thought of Natalia’s offer to help relieve his pent-up sexual energy. He knew that, even at three in the morning, he would have been welcomed into her bed. But even if he’d been willing to use Natalia that way—which he wasn’t—he knew that no other woman could satisfy his craving for Tamara.

  Ravi was watching him intently, a speculative gleam in his black eyes. “So you’re sure there’s nothing going on between you and Tamara?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Victor muttered darkly, grabbing his ballpoint pen to signal that the conversation was over. “So spread the word.”

  “Okay.” Ravi heaved an exaggerated sigh of regret. “But the others will be sorely disappointed, and not just because they’re looking for something other than the lawsuit scandal to gossip about.”

  A wry, indulgent smile quirked one corner of Victor’s mouth. “And why will they be disappointed?”

  Ravi shrugged. “Despite the way you and Tamara bicker all the time, some of us think you might actually make a good couple. You know, because opposites attract and all that.” He paused. “But what do we know, right?”

  Victor just stared at him.

  Ravi grinned. “Well, I’d better get back inside and check on some patients. Unlike you, I wasn’t smart enough to bring paperwork outside.” He stood, clapping Victor on the shoulder. “Stay out of trouble, my friend.”

  Famous last words, Victor mused grimly as he returned to the discharge summary he’d been drafting for a patient who’d been sent home yesterday after being treated for congestive heart failure. Most interns loathed having to write discharge summaries, but since the reports were a necessary evil, Victor was learning how to make his as concise as possible.

  But his concentration was shot, and before long he found himself lifting his head and idly glancing around. From the courtyard he had an unobstructed view of the front parking lot. When he spied Tamara walking toward the main entrance of the hospital, his pulse thudded.

  She wore a fitted skirt that showed off a pair of toned, curvy legs that made him salivate even from this distance. After months of working with her, he knew that she preferred wearing ponytails, which she usually assembled as soon as she’d finished changing into her scrubs in the locker room. But for now her hair was loose, the dark strands lifting in the breeze to caress her face. Victor thought she looked radiantly beautiful.

  Only problem was, she wasn’t alone.

  Walking beside her was a tall, brown-skinned man with a clean-shaven head.

  Victor clenched his jaw, his gut tightening as he watched the couple stroll across the parking lot. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed they seemed with each other, like a pair of old friends or reunited lovers. When the man leaned down and murmured something in Tamara’s ear, she threw back her head and laughed.

  Victor felt a sharp stab of jealousy that surprised him. He had no reason to feel possessive over Tamara. They weren’t dating, and probably never would be. Yet seeing her with another guy rubbed him the wrong way. And that was putting it mildly.

  He glared as Tamara and her companion headed into the building.

  And then he gathered up his paperwork and followed suit.

  “So who was that fella you brought to work this afternoon?”

  Tamara glanced up from reviewing patient charts to meet the inquisitive gaze of the forty-something redhead manning the nurses’ station. She smiled wryly. “Does anything get past you, Sheryl?”

  “Nope. I’ve got spies all over this place.” The woman grinned unabashedly, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Jerome happened to be downstairs when you and your mystery man strolled through the lobby earlier. Jerome told me he walked you to the elevator and kissed you on the cheek like you were ending a date.”

  Tamara chuckled, shaking her head at the mention of Jerome Stubbs, a male nurse whose infectious sense of humor had made him popular with most of the staff. He also had a penchant for getting the scoop on any brewing scandals at the hospital.

  “It wasn’t really a date,” Tamara said, uncomfortable, as always, with discussing her personal life at work. “We just went somewhere for breakfast.”

  “Sounds like a date to me.” Sheryl Newsome leaned forward, eyes alight with avid curiosity. “So who was he?”

  Tamara hesitated, silently cursing Morris’s insistence on walking her inside the hospital. She should have known that one of her colleagues would see them and speculate about the nature of their relationship. But she hadn’t wanted to hurt Morris’s feelings by rejecting his chivalrous offer. She’d been pleased when he called two days ago and asked her out. Although she knew she had no room in her life for romance, she’d looked forward to catching up on old times with Morris. And she’d been secretly hoping that going out with him would, at least, take her mind off Victor for a while. But no such luck. She’d found herself thinking about Victor over breakfast with her ex-boyfriend. Which was really a shame, because Morris was smart, handsome and a great conversationalist, and she’d genuinely enjoyed his company. But she’d felt no spark of attraction for him. Whatever chemistry they’d shared as teenagers was long gone.

  At the end of the meal when Morris asked her out again, Tamara had been honest with him, gently telling him that they could be friends, but nothing more. The last thing she wanted to do was lead him on.

  “Well?” Sheryl prompted, watching Tamara expectantly. “Are you gonna give up the goods or what?”

  Tamara sighed, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. “Since you insist on being all up in my business—”

  Sheryl grinned. “I do.”

  “—his name’s Morris Richmond. We dated in high school.”

  “Ohh, how adorable,” Sheryl cooed. “Your high school sweetheart. You should have brought him upstairs and introduced him to everyone. Right, Victor?”

  Tamara stiffened, then reluctantly turned around to watch as her nemesis joined her at the nurses’ station. As usual, his hair looked like he’d been running restless fingers through it, and at least five days’ worth of stubble darkened his square jaw. He was sexier than any man had a right to be, damn him.

  “Dr. Aguilar,” Tamara said coolly.

  He inclined his head. “Dr. St. John.” Setting a folder down on the counter, he asked Sheryl, “What were you asking me?”

  The nurse grinned. “I was just telling Tamara that she should have introduced us
to her date. I don’t know about you, but I’d love to see what her type is.”

  “Hmm,” Victor murmured, his hooded eyes probing Tamara’s. “That would be interesting.”

  She flushed, averting her gaze to look at Sheryl. “I don’t have a type.”

  “Come now,” Victor drawled with lazy insolence. “Everyone has a type.”

  Tamara smirked at him. “You don’t, apparently.”

  Sheryl burst out laughing. “She’s got you there, Dr. Caliente.”

  Victor scowled. “Yeah, whatever.”

  Grinning, Sheryl wagged her head at him. “Are you finished with Mr. Armstrong’s chart?”

  “Finishing it now,” Victor muttered, removing a pen from the pocket of his lab coat and opening his folder.

  “Take your time, honey.” Sheryl propped her chin on her hand and smiled up at Tamara. “So where did Morris take you for breakfast? Not some coffee shop, I hope?”

  “No,” Tamara said with a chuckle. “We went to the Carlyle in Arlington.”

  “Ooh. Very nice,” Sheryl said approvingly. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about that place.”

  “I can definitely see why. It’s a great restaurant, kind of upscale. Brunch is really their specialty.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told. So what’d you have?”

  “The brioche French toast. Mmm-mmm. And their mimosas are delicious, too.”

  “You drank alcohol before coming to work, Dr. St. John?” Victor drawled without glancing up from his paperwork. “Tsk tsk.”

  Tamara shot him a withering look. “I had one glass.”

  “Still. You’re a doctor. I’m surprised that you would take such a risk.”

  Tamara took umbrage, incensed by the suggestion that she would deliberately endanger patients’ lives. “Why don’t you just mind your own business?”

  “We’re a team,” he countered evenly. “So, technically, everything you do around here is my business.”