Victor regarded his mother for a long, tense moment, then shook his head in disappointment. “I’m really sorry you feel that way, Mama. I was hoping to get through to you—”
“Get through to me? You’re the one who’s making a terrible mistake, mijo!”
Victor clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. “I love you, Mama,” he said, low and controlled, “but remember that I can be just as stubborn as you are. Don’t force me to choose between you and Tamara, because I promise you won’t like my decision.”
With a brusque nod at his father, he turned and stalked out of the house.
Chapter 14
Two days later, Victor was standing at the empty nurses’ station reviewing patient charts when a newcomer’s voice drawled, “You know, I hate clichés.”
Victor glanced around to find Dr. Balmer standing beside him at the counter. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said I hate clichés.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just what I said. I hate clichés, Dr. Aguilar, and that’s exactly what you and Dr. St. John have become.”
Victor frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”
“Two wannabe heart surgeons who can’t even diagnose the needs of your own heart.” She snorted, shaking her head. “Makes no damn sense.”
“It’s complicated,” Victor mumbled.
“So is cardiothoracic surgery,” Balmer pointed out, “but that didn’t stop you from choosing it as your specialty.”
Victor said nothing, returning to his paperwork.
“Everyone has noticed the way you and Dr. St. John have been avoiding each other—”
“Actually,” Victor said darkly, “she’s been avoiding me.”
“Which is downright ludicrous, considering the way she went to bat for you last week.”
Victor stopped writing. Lifting his head, he stared at his supervisor. “What do you mean she went to bat for me?”
Balmer arched a brow. “You didn’t know? Last week when she found out that Dr. Dudley was considering whether to take disciplinary action against you, she marched right up to his office to talk him out of it.”
Heart thudding, Victor eyed Dr. Balmer skeptically. “She did that?”
“Yup. Shocked the hell out of Dudley, too. She told him that you were the best intern out of your group—”
“What?”
“—and informed him in no uncertain terms that he’d be making a terrible mistake if he kicked you out of the program.”
Victor was floored. He’d had no idea that Tamara had gone to the chief of staff to plead his case. He’d accused her of being a conformist and having no backbone, yet there she was, putting her neck on the line for him. It was one of the most unselfish things anyone had ever done for him. He was incredibly touched, and humbled beyond words.
Watching his stunned reaction, Balmer smiled softly. “Do you know what else she told Dr. Dudley? She told him that you make her a better doctor.”
“She said that?” Victor murmured, husky with emotion.
“She did. And I’m inclined to agree with her. I think you both bring out the best in each other.”
Victor swallowed tightly.
“Now, I don’t know whether or not she changed Dr. Dudley’s mind,” Balmer continued. “Truth be told, I don’t think he was ever serious about kicking you out of the program anyway. Not when we’re already under so much scrutiny, and not when he knows you’re one of our most promising interns. But I can definitely tell you that Dr. St. John’s visit had an impact on him. He told me that in all the years he’s worked at this hospital, he’s never seen an intern go to bat for a rival intern the way Dr. St. John did for you.” She chuckled wryly. “Of course, now you’ve got him speculating about the nature of your relationship—”
At that moment, Tamara emerged from a patient’s room down the hallway. When she glanced up from the chart she’d been reviewing and saw Victor standing at the nurses’ station, she slowed her steps, then abruptly reversed course and headed in the opposite direction.
“We’ve got a runner,” Balmer intoned humorously.
Victor swore under his breath. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Without awaiting his supervisor’s assent, he left his paperwork on the counter and strode purposefully after Tamara.
“Make it quick,” Balmer called after him. “We’re trying to run a hospital here, not a relationship counseling service!”
Victor’s determined, ground-eating strides enabled him to catch up easily to Tamara. “We need to talk.”
She shook her head, her charts clutched to her chest. “I have patients to see, and so do y—”
Spying the door to another supply closet—perfect timing!—Victor grabbed Tamara’s arm and dragged her inside, kicking the door shut behind them.
She heaved an exasperated breath. “Really, Victor, this is becoming a rather bad habit—”
He didn’t let her finish. Cupping her face between his hands, he crushed his lips to hers, swallowing her startled gasp. When she dropped her charts on the floor, he pushed her back against the door, pinning her with his body. She made a helpless little sound in her throat, a sound of surrender that ignited his blood. As her arms went around his neck, he devoured her mouth, pouring all of the love, passion and gratitude he felt into a hot, searing kiss that left them trembling and clutching each other.
“I know what you did for me,” Victor whispered, running his lips along the satin arch of her throat. “I know you talked to Dr. Dudley to keep me in the program.”
“I don’t know what you’re—” Tamara broke off with a soft moan as he nipped the pulse beating frantically at the base of her throat.
“You can’t lie to me, cariño. I know your secret. You stood up to Dudley. You risked getting on his bad side just to protect me.”
“Don’t make such a big deal over it. This place would be dull without you.”
“Liar,” he murmured, sucking gently at the pulsing nerve in her throat. “You talked to him because you care what happens to me. Why? Because you care about me more than you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.”
“I do care about you,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair as she brushed tender kisses across his temple. “But it doesn’t matter, Victor. We can’t be together.”
“The hell we can’t,” he growled, rolling his hips against her, making her body arch. “We’re already together, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“But your parents—”
He lifted his head, pinning her with a fiercely intent gaze. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time. We’re together, Tamara, and I intend to keep it that way.”
She tenderly framed his face between her hands. “I want to be with you, Victor. God knows I do. But I don’t think I can handle all the drama with your parents. And I don’t want to come between you and them.”
“You’re not coming between anyone. I’ve already told my parents what I want, and now the ball’s in their court. But I’m not waiting around for them to come to their senses. I’m moving on, Tamara, and if you think I’m letting you go without a fight, you’d better think again.”
She gazed at him. “Victor—”
“I put down the security deposit for the condo, so we can move in whenever we’re ready. The sooner, the better.”
She hesitated, her dark eyes probing his. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“You don’t think we’re moving too fast?”
“Right now, sweetheart, I don’t think we’re moving fast enough.”
She grinned, shaking her head in exasperation.
“So what do you say?” he prompted.
She bit her lip, still wavering. “I don’t know…?.”
“Say yes.”
“Victor—”
“Say yes,” he warned, a wicked grin curving his mouth, “or I’m getting down on my knees, pulling down your
pants, and burying my mouth between your legs. And when I make you scream—”
“Okay! Okay!” she relented hoarsely. When she shuddered against him and closed her eyes for a moment, Victor was sorely tempted to make good on his threat anyway.
He leaned down, nibbling her lush bottom lip as he smiled into her eyes. “Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll move in with you. Sheesh.”
“Good.” He stroked his tongue over her lip, felt her shiver with arousal as his own body hardened. He toyed with the drawstring of her scrub bottoms. “Maybe we could just hang out here a lit—”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she warned, shoving him back before dropping quickly to the floor and scooping up her fallen charts. She stood and opened the door, checked the empty hallway, then darted out of the closet before Victor could stop her.
He chuckled softly as he watched her go, consoling himself with the reminder that once they were living under the same roof, he’d have her whenever he wanted her.
Which would be pretty much all the time.
Chapter 15
Tamara removed a carton of milk from Victor’s refrigerator and sniffed at the opening, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
“Does this man ever throw anything away?” she muttered, pouring the spoiled milk down the drain and chucking the empty carton into a large trash bag teeming with other junk she’d already discarded.
Over the past few days, she and Victor had been helping each other pack their belongings in preparation for Saturday’s move. Since Tamara had gotten off from work earlier than him that evening, she’d driven over to his apartment to get a head start on cleaning out his refrigerator, which he’d sheepishly warned her was a mess.
He hadn’t exaggerated. Though the rest of his sparsely furnished apartment was surprisingly neat, the refrigerator was crammed with old take-out containers, moldy vegetables and other items that had long since passed their expiration date.
As Tamara reached for a cloudy jar of pickles, the doorbell rang.
Shaking her head in amused exasperation, she closed the refrigerator and left the small kitchen to answer the front door.
“Don’t tell me you lost your key before we’ve even—” She broke off, the teasing admonition dying on her lips when she found herself staring at an attractive young blonde leaning seductively on the doorjamb, her silk blouse unbuttoned to reveal her ample cleavage.
“May I help you?” Tamara asked coolly.
“Um.” Straightening from the doorjamb, the woman checked the number on the door as if to confirm she had the right apartment. “I’m looking for Victor.”
“He’s not here.”
“Ohhhkay. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Natalia. I’m his neighbor.”
Judging by the way she’d been posing in the doorway, Tamara thought darkly, she was—or had been—a hell of a lot more than Victor’s neighbor.
Glancing down at the rubber gloves Tamara wore, Natalia chuckled softly. “I see he finally decided to hire a maid service. Good for him.”
Tamara bristled. “I’m not his maid.”
Natalia frowned. “You’re not his—”
“No.”
Coolly appraising green eyes looked Tamara up and down, taking in her fitted pink tee, denim skirt and bare feet. “Oh, I see,” Natalia said with an understanding nod. “You must be Victor’s new roommate, then. Something else he once talked about get—”
“I’m not his roommate.” Tamara paused. “Not yet, anyway.”
Natalia’s eyes narrowed on hers. “I’m sorry,” she said tightly, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Tamara.”
“And you are…?”
None of your damn business. “Look, I was in the middle of something, so I’ll let Victor know you stopped by.”
As Tamara moved to close the door, Natalia blurted out, “Would you mind if I wait for him?”
Tamara frowned. “Actually, I—”
“Here’s the thing,” Natalia interrupted, looking sheepish. “There’s a maintenance man inside my apartment doing some work. I’m always uncomfortable with having strangers in my home while I’m there. You know, being a single woman living alone.” She eyed Tamara imploringly. “Can I just hang out here until he’s finished? I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”
Tamara hesitated for several moments, then opened the door wider and stepped aside.
“Thanks.” Natalia sashayed into the apartment and stopped short, her eyes widening with shock as she glanced around at all the cardboard boxes. “Wait a minute. Is Victor moving?”
“Yes.”
Natalia gaped at her. “When?”
Ignoring the question, Tamara gestured vaguely to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable. Like I said, I was in the middle of doing something.”
Natalia followed her into the kitchen. “Are you and Victor moving in together?”
“We are, as a matter of fact.”
“I didn’t even know he was dating anyone!”
The woman’s possessive tone set Tamara’s back teeth on edge. Her task forgotten, she leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “Is there something I should know about you and Victor?”
Natalia smirked. “Other than the fact that we used to sleep together?”
“Yes.” Tamara kept her expression neutral. “Other than that.”
Natalia shrugged, flashing more cleavage with the gesture. “What did he tell you about me?”
“Nothing,” Tamara said blandly. “He’s never mentioned you at all.”
Hurt flickered in the other woman’s eyes, but she recovered quickly enough to retort, “Then I guess he’s been keeping us a secret from each other, because I’ve never heard of you, either.”
Tamara just looked at her.
A malicious gleam lit Natalia’s eyes. “So I guess that means he didn’t tell you that I met his parents?”
Tamara congratulated herself for not flinching, though she was stung to hear that she wasn’t the only woman Victor had introduced to his parents. He’d led her to believe that she was special, and she’d foolishly fallen for it.
Natalia sighed contentedly. “Mr. and Mrs. Aguilar are such sweet, wonderful people. They were so excited when they found out that my family’s also from Bogotá. Can you believe that Victor and I were born in the same town? What are the odds?”
“Indeed,” Tamara murmured.
“They positively adored me,” Natalia continued, twisting the knife deeper. “And, of course, the feeling was definitely mutual. Have you met Victor’s parents, Tamara?”
She forced a smile. “Oh, yes, I’ve had the pleasure.”
Natalia gave her a deliberate once-over, her eyes glimmering with laughter. “I bet that was an interesting meeting.”
Before Tamara could respond—not that she even knew how to—they heard the jangle of keys outside the front door. They looked through the open entryway to watch as Victor stepped into the apartment, channeling Ricky Ricardo as he called out in a thickly accented voice, “Lucy, I’m home!”
He turned from closing the door, then froze at the sight of Tamara and Natalia emerging from the kitchen. He divided a wary glance between them. “What’s up?”
Folding her arms across her chest, Tamara said with exaggerated sweetness, “Hey, honey. Look who dropped by.”
His gaze shifted reluctantly to Natalia. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said, her voice laced with petulant accusation. “You didn’t tell me you were moving.”
He cocked an amused brow. “Should I have?”
“It would have been nice. I go away for five days on a business trip, and I come back to learn that you’re moving and you have a girlfriend.”
Slowly, deliberately, Victor set his helmet down on the stack of cardboard boxes pushed against the wall near the door. Tamara didn’t miss the way Natalia’s predatory gaze devoured him, nor
could she really blame her. She’d worked with Victor for more than a year, and her hormones still reacted to the sight of him in scrubs with those big black boots.
As she and Natalia watched, he sauntered across the room toward them. Stopping in front of Tamara, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. Her pulse quickened, and heat pumped through her veins.
Bringing his warm lips to her ear, he murmured, “I could get very used to this.”
She shivered. “What?”
“Coming home to you every day.”
She couldn’t suppress a pleased smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Natalia glaring at them.
Holding Tamara’s gaze, Victor drawled lazily, “Was there anything else you wanted, Natalia?”
“I guess not,” she retorted sulkily.
“Well, then…thanks for stopping by.”
She hesitated, then huffed out a breath and stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
In the ensuing silence, Tamara and Victor stared at each other.
“Sorry about that,” he murmured.
“Don’t be. Natalia and I had a very enlightening conversation before you got home.”
His eyes narrowed. “Enlightening?”
“Yup.” Tamara turned away, walking back into the kitchen.
Victor followed her. “What did she tell you?”
“What do you think she told me?”
“I’m sure she told you that we slept together.”
“Of course.”
He sighed. “I’ve never claimed to be a monk—”
“I know.” Tamara’s tone was mild. “I’m not mad because you slept with Natalia. She’s a sexy woman. You’d have to be a monk not to have slept with her.”
“So what are you mad about?”
“Who says I am?” she countered, opening the refrigerator and removing the cloudy jar of pickles.
“Come on, Tamara. I can tell you’re upset about something. What else did she say to you?”
“I’d rather not—”
Romancing the M.D. Page 13