Doctor Holy Hotness (50 Shades of Grey's Anatomy Book 4)

by Katy Connor

  “Why? What have you heard about me?”

  I winked. “Nothing good. I promise.”

  That made him laugh, the kind that transformed his entire face. Alex was already a timeless kind of handsome. If I had a black-and-white photo of him, no one would be able to tell if it was recent or from a hundred years ago. Mostly because his features favored classic lines; square, angled geometry. The seduction of symmetry.

  He was almost too good-looking, if that made any sense. But I was learning there was much, much more to him.

  His laugh made everyone notice us again, or at least have the courage to give him a lingering gaze. Almost all of the women—and a lot of the men—were staring at him, covetous eyes and mouths and hands, all signaling they could be his. All he had to do was place his order.

  Speaking of…

  “Hello, welcome to Vesna. My name is Natasha, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”

  Our waitress had a shiny sheet of long black hair and legs up to her throat, with big amber eyes set firmly on Alex. Not that I could blame her.

  If I saw the two of them walking arm-in-arm down the street together, I would say, “See those two right there? They fit.”

  So why the heck am I here right now?

  But, as it turned out, while I was watching her, Alex was only gazing at me.

  Holy hell, did he just move even closer to me?

  That delicious tower of Russian bear-man seems to be all about me and my particular flavor of dorkasaurus. Hmm, imagine that.

  We weren’t touching, but he was near enough that I could feel the warmth of him through my dress. I blushed. He moved a piece of hair out of my eyes with the tips of his fingers. I swear, his delicate touch seared my skin and gave me goosebumps all at the same time.

  “Is there anything you don’t eat?”

  “Excuse me? …Oh, you mean food,” I said like a moron. “No, I eat everything. No food allergies.”

  His nostrils flared, but he let my comment go and proceeded to order for us in Russian, and I stared at his mouth while he did it. I didn’t understand a word, but Alex could’ve been talking in Klingon and I would’ve still been mesmerized. His voice slid through me like cool, smooth vodka.

  Another server brought over a bottle of red wine I knew must have cost more than my car payment. Alex insisted on pouring for me, all without saying a word. He simply eyed the waitress, who handed over the bottle, gave a half bow, and left.

  Wow. That was, like, James Bond–level kind of coolness.

  “I took the liberty of choosing for us. Let me know if you like it.”

  I didn’t know the first thing about wine, except not to buy it in a box. I was about to tell him this when he gently placed his finger on my lips.

  “This is not a test. You won’t be graded,” he said with a slight chuckle, letting his hand drop. Damn, I liked him touching me. “All you have to do is savor the wine and let me know if you like it or not.”

  “Okay.” I let out a nervous laugh. Without taking my eyes off of him, I took a sip, letting the liquid swirl around my mouth before I swallowed. There were hints of blackberry and licorice, with something earthy that I couldn’t place. If the best of everything in life had a flavor, this wine was it.

  “This tastes like heaven in a glass,” I told him.

  That earned another smile.

  He poured for himself and drank, seeming perfectly content to not say anything, to enjoy the quiet.

  For some reason, the silence was making me self-conscious.

  “So, um, is your specialty going to be surgery or medicine?” I asked, kicking myself for not learning a few more social skills along the way.

  His lip quirked. “Are we going to play that game?”

  Jenny, you are soooo in over your head.

  Quiz me on organic chemistry? I’ll rock your world before I blow it up.

  Test my ability to flirt and make conversation? Yep—a big, fat zero.

  “Sure, but tell me first if I’m right,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he dragged out, being playful. “Why do you think surgery?”

  Okay, this I can do—and he’s humoring me. He must sense I need the Hail Mary.

  “Well, for one thing, you have the hands of a surgeon.”

  Bet you know exactly what to do with them, too.

  I went on. “You’re what my nana would call one tall drink of water. What are you, six-ten?”

  He chuckled. “Six-four. Go on.”

  “And you’re built like a brick house, like a big bear. So, my guess is…orthopedics?”

  He rested his head in his hand, a dreamy look in his eye. “Good call,” he said.

  “Oh cool! Now do me,” I said.

  One of his brows shot up.

  “Um, that’s not what I meant.”

  He was kind enough to let my faux pas slide.

  “Now, my turn,” he said as he squinted, pretending to study my face, taking my hands in his, inspecting those too. My nails were clean, kept short. My nana used to call them “doctor hands,” which was her nice way of saying I needed a manicure, like yesterday.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “All right, being serious,” he said. “When you’re not studying or sleeping or briefly showering, what do you like to do?”

  I drew a blank. “What? You mean, like, hobbies or something?”

  He drank some more wine, his tongue running across his bottom lip. Then, he smiled.

  No words.

  I liked that, how he let the silence speak for him. Even if I didn’t know where he came from, that alone would tell me he wasn’t from this country. Americans are like a nation of latchkey kids: constantly making white noise so we won’t be spooked by the quiet. I should know, I was one of them.

  “Well, I love to read. I enjoy going to the movies, especially sappy rom-coms. Although, I prefer to go during the day when no one’s around,” I said, feeling the wine go to my head a little.

  “If I were to have my way, I’d love to live somewhere in the mountains, with a classic A-frame house near a good hiking trail. I don’t know, maybe the Berkshires, maybe somewhere out west. Boston’s been great, but I need a change in a big way.” I paused, taking him in. “What does that tell you?”

  His gaze went soft. “You’re a loner who appreciates the natural world. You took care of your grandmother until she passed. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.”

  I felt my mouth open. “H-how did you know about that?”

  “I pay attention,” he said while swirling the red wine by the stem of his glass, without really seeing it. “You walked around with a torn piece of black cloth pinned over your heart. That’s a Jewish custom for mourning, is it not?”

  I nodded, dumbfounded he had noticed me. There were over seven hundred medical students at Harvard. I usually kept to myself. I’m shocked he knew who I was, nevertheless about my nana or how I honored her by sitting shiva.

  God, I miss her so much. She would be thrilled to see me on a date. She would have also driven me nuts, texting me every ten minutes, wanting the details. My nana was a bit of a yenta. She loved gossip, but mostly, she loved love.

  “It was because of her, well…she influenced me a lot.”

  He smiled, as if he had all the time in the world. “Tell me about her.”

  I guffawed. “C’mon, no man wants to hear about someone’s nana on a date.”

  “I want to learn about you, Jenny. I’d like to hear all your stories, including the ones about your family.”

  The wine was definitely getting to me. “Does that mean you’ll open up and tell me your stories as well?”

  He scratched the underside of his jaw. “Over time, yes, but not all at once.”

  Ooookay.

  “You first,” he said, taking another taste of the wine.

  I shrugged. “What’s there to say? She was the only family I had left. She lived quiet, you know, wanting to set a good example for me. I never knew my father—her son
—and my mother… Well, I can tell you she was very beautiful…there was this wildness about her. Even when she was just doing normal, everyday things, she added her own flair to them. That was the charming part of her. My mom also had a lot of…issues.”

  He studied my face. “What kind of issues?”

  Ugh, my family sounds like an episode of A&E’s Intervention.

  “That’s kind of personal, don’t you think?”

  He stared. “What are we doing here, if not getting personal?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat while mindlessly picking at my cuticles.

  He placed his hand over mine, a gentle way to stop what I was doing. “I don’t mean to make you nervous. It’s just…I don’t waste my time with small talk.”

  Frankly, I was the same way. It bored me senseless.

  Okay, I can do this…be open. Vulnerable even.

  I let out a long breath. “Okay, well, my mother was a character, which is the polite way to say she had the kind of issues that made it virtually impossible to hold a job or pay bills on time. The kind that made you aware you’re not like other families from a very early age…the kind that left her with cirrhosis of the liver and dead before her thirty-fifth birthday.”

  Again, he didn’t respond with words, but he did thread his fingers through mine and give my hand a squeeze. Something inside my chest bloomed.

  Alex Petrinov was beautiful and intelligent, a worldly and enigmatic presence on campus, but now he was something else. Something more: a man I was comfortable with—and that rarely happened.

  “How old were you when you came to live with your nana?” he asked.

  I scratched the back of my neck with my free hand, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m not sure…around ten years old?”

  He nodded. “Makes sense, then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His dark eyes took mine in. “You have a sweetness, an innocence to you. No way you would have kept that if you’d been raised for long by an alcoholic. She kept you safe and whole.”

  “Some would call that being ‘sheltered,’” I countered.

  “Those are the jaded ones, Jenny. Don’t listen to them.”

  He wasn’t done.

  “So, I’m ready to guess your specialty.”

  He was giving me a subject change. I liked that he pushed when necessary, without becoming overbearing or aggressive.

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  He waited a couple of beats for dramatic affect.

  “Radiation oncology,” he said.

  He had just guessed my specialty.

  I was gobsmacked. No one ever guessed my area of interest.

  “H-how did you do that?”

  “It wasn’t that big of a leap. Your nana raised you, then suffered with cancer for a long time. It’s only natural that would influence your specialty. Plus, you prefer your solitude, which is why radiology is a good fit.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I’ve had friends in my life for years who hadn’t put all of that together.

  “You’re right.”

  I drank the red wine he ordered for us, but I was already drunk on his attention.

  Maybe that’s why I suddenly got the urge to be bold.

  “Alex, why am I here?” I asked.

  He turned my hand over, tracing the lines of my palm with the tip of his finger.

  “You read palms or something?” I asked, trying to read his expression.

  “Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I blurted out, but taking in his Cheshire grin, I didn’t think he minded. “And stop smiling at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Like me being in your bed is inevitable,” I whispered.

  He rested his hand on the curve of my neck, holding me still, keeping me warm. “I’m Russian, Jenny. That means the only things I see as inevitable are long winters and death. The rest, as Americans would say, is up to chance.”

  “So fatalistic,” I said under my breath.

  “Yes, that’s how I see the world,” he said.

  “Tell me something about you, something that doesn’t sound like you cheat-sheeted from a Dostoevsky novel.”

  That made him laugh, and I have to admit: I was enamored by the way his eyes lit up, how just a twitch of his lip or the subtle shift in his gaze said more than words.

  “I was born in Moscow. We lived in one of those townhouses, with an elevator inside. I remember how much I loved riding in it, pressing the buttons, like any other kid, I suppose. I remember the house always being quiet. I was an only child. Having a dog or cat was out of the question. I don’t even remember asking for one. I just knew not to ask, if that makes sense.”

  “It does,” I said. “Go on.”

  “I hardly ever went outside. My mother taught me at home. She was a brilliant woman, so she taught everything. I was told it was because I had a rare disease, that a common cold could kill me, so going to school with other children was not an option. It wouldn’t be until I was heading off to boarding school in America that I would learn the truth.”

  “What was the truth?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping at the ends before he let out a gust of air. “The truth was, my mother was a severe agoraphobe, terrified to leave the house. She was convinced something terrible would happen to me, to us, if we ever left. That fear would later prove…ironic.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  His hand cupped my jaw while resting on the curve of my neck, his thumb stroking the underside. I shuddered, my nipples becoming hard points, rubbing against the fabric.

  “No more for tonight. At least on that part of my life.”

  I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

  “You want to know more, Jenny Price?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitating.

  “What else, then?”

  Everything, I thought. Tell me everything and don’t leave anything out.

  But instead I said, “Whatever you think I should know now, Alex Petrinov.”

  He let out a small laugh. “I like hearing you say my name.”

  “I like saying yours too. Your name sounds like a character from a nineteenth-century novel.”

  He smiled, but unfortunately, he dropped his hand.

  “I’ve been in this country more than my own. I came for boarding school when I was ten and stayed on when I got into Harvard for undergrad.”

  “You were sent away at ten years old?”

  He shrugged. “It’s common where I’m from.”

  I was incredulous. “But weren’t you lonely?”

  I couldn’t read his expression. “No, not really. America is my home now.”

  Okay, good to know.

  “Oh, and in spite of the rumors, I am not in the Russian mob.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t heard that at all,” I lied.

  I had totally heard that one.

  He studied my face. “You are brilliant and beautiful, but you are a terrible liar.”

  “I am not!” I said, biting my lip and trying not to laugh.

  He barked out his. “It’s true, the worst I’ve ever seen. Your ears turn red when you lie.”

  I cupped both ears. They felt hot to the touch. Damn it.

  “Fine, I heard something, but I brushed it off. Satisfied?”

  He groaned. “Do me a favor and don’t ask a man who’s been into you forever if he’s satisfied.”

  My mouth went dry. “You’ve been into me? For forever?”

  “Absolutely. From the minute I saw you at first-year orientation.”

  Swirls of, like, ten thousand emotions circulated like a cyclone, as did snippets of memory:

  Standing by myself and off to the side in the school gym during my class’s eighth grade dance.

  The time when my high school lab partner got me to admit I crushed hard on a boy, only to have him roll his eyes when she blurted it out later on.

  Overhearing my college
boyfriend of two years tell his roommate that he liked me well enough, but he was mostly going out with me to have someone to sleep with, because sex was his only way to truly relax.

  Alex’s features got all tight, and I could tell he was misinterpreting my reaction.

  “You have to understand,” I began to say.

  Two lines pressed between his eyebrows. “Understand what?”

  I studied my cuticles. “Except for my academics, I’m not the girl who’s ever been anyone’s first choice.”

  I dared to peek under my eyelashes. I caught his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  Of course, that’s when Natasha arrived with our food. She explained the ingredients and preparation. I didn’t hear a word.

  As soon as she left, Alex reached for the curtain, and with one hand, he deftly unleashed the tie. Now we were hidden.

  “You should know, Jenny… You are not my first choice.”

  Of course not. I should have known. So, why did it sting so much?

  “You’re my only choice.”

  Wait, what is he saying?

  I was lost. “I don’t understand.”

  His expression was pained. “You’re the risk I was afraid to take. I’ve wanted to get close to you for so long… You’re not a choice. That implies something voluntary. You’re someone I know, within no time, I’m going to need.”

  I stilled, so happy that I was afraid to move for fear it would all disappear.

  “But why did you wait so long if that’s true? I would have gone out with you, if you’d asked.”

  He let out a breath as he dropped his head forward, scratching the back of his neck with both hands before meeting my incredulous gaze.

  “Because you’ve been in a self-imposed bubble ever since you came to Harvard Med. Everything about you screamed a million kinds of hurt and, I knew, I was only getting one shot, and if I took it and you said no, then I was stuck for years seeing you almost every day at school and knowing I couldn’t have you.”

  I let those words sink in. His eyes scanned for my reaction.

  “I’m strong, Jenny, but I’m still human.”

  “I still can’t believe I’m here with you.”

  The corner of his mouth curled up. “Yeah?”