Dr. NEUROtic

by Max Monroe

  Charlotte.

  One click and her name was there, just waiting for me to type up something witty or charming or in any way interesting and push send.

  Me: Hi.

  Fucking hell. Well, that went well.

  It’d been just a little over a week since I’d met Nick Raines and a few days since I’d seen him in the flesh.

  Not bare flesh, sadly.

  But, as I was finding out, you could learn an awful lot about someone through text messages.

  We’d been messaging each other nonstop over the past several days, slow and steady, getting to know each other, sharing tidbits of our days, and little, careful insights into our pasts. It was a nice change of pace from the usual quick and reckless leap that most people made into the world of dating.

  But, fuck, okay. That’s kind of bullshit.

  Because I was starting to grow tired of the slow.

  I wanted more than just his words through the inbox of my phone. I wanted to spend actual, face-to-face time with him. I wanted to see that sexy smile of his in person. I needed to ease this incessant craving for more.

  More bare flesh, my vagina whispered. She wasn’t wrong.

  Thursday nights were notorious NYC dance club nights, and my closest girlfriends in the city, Harper and Ivy, had already started their normal chattering about it since early this morning. They wanted me to meet them at one of our favorite little dive bars, the Iron Horse, for some drinks, and most importantly, dancing.

  Harper: Just come out, ya loser. It’s been forever since we went dancing.

  Ivy: YES! Harper’s right, Char. You’ve been back in the city permanently for almost a month now, and we still haven’t had a Thursday dance night.

  I’d really only been back for two weeks, the assholes, but I understood that excitement sometimes influenced hyperbole. Plus, Ivy wasn’t especially good with things like time and distance. She’d once told me something was just up the block when it was ten. Ten fucking blocks instead of one.

  Even though they’d been annoying the shit out of me all day, I couldn’t deny that a night out sounded like a much-needed reprieve from a long week of workweek monotony.

  As I sat behind the large desk in my office, I glanced around the room and got an idea. I tapped out of the group text with the girls and pulled up my last conversation with Nick.

  Me: How’s the world of brains?

  Nick: Stimulating. How’s the hunting of heads?

  I grinned at his response and typed another message.

  Me: Surprisingly boring. You’d think it’d be messier, but there’s nary a stain on me. Is today an office day?

  Nick: Keeping my mouth shut about stains on you. And yep. No surgeries scheduled until Monday.

  I shivered at his innuendo. Holy fuck, look who brought his A game.

  Perfect. I knew Nick’s schedule well enough by this point to understand that an office day meant he wouldn’t call it a night until at least seven. Which meant I could stop by his office on my way to the Iron Horse and kidnap him for drinks and dancing.

  No doubt, he’d be surprised, and probably more than a little hesitant, but if I’d learned anything from trivia night, he’d eventually come along.

  The man worked his ass off, and when he wasn’t working, he was usually spending time with his daughter. It was all very noble, but at some point, a person needed to let loose.

  Get ready to live a little, Nick.

  Me: Mind if I stop by your office on my way home?

  Nick: As long as your reason for stopping by doesn’t include you trying to convince me to move to Alaska for a job opportunity.

  Me: LOL. No, smartass. I’m stopping by because I want to see you.

  Nick: Then, in that case, please do stop by. And how about we grab dinner together?

  Me: Perfect.

  Obviously, he didn’t know that dinner actually meant alcohol and dancing, but those were just minor details, right?

  Once the plan was in place, I opened up the group text again and sent Harper and Ivy a quick text.

  Me: Fine. You’ve convinced me. Iron Horse tonight? Meet there around 8?

  Harper: HELL YES!

  Ivy: I’m so in!

  Me: Just FYI: I might be bringing someone.

  Harper: Someone? Details, please.

  Me: Honestly, it’s all pretty new and fresh. No major details yet.

  Ivy: What is his name?

  Me: Nick.

  Harper: Job?

  Me: He’s a doctor.

  Ivy: And exactly how long has this been going on, missy? I’m a bit peeved you didn’t mention anything until today.

  Me: Calm your tits. I met him through work a little over a week ago.

  Harper: Have you done the sex?

  Me: No.

  Ivy: Have you at least seen his penis?

  Me: No.

  Harper: Do you want to see his penis?

  My friends were perverts.

  I mean, obviously, the answer was a big fat hell yes, but I sure as fuck wasn’t going to get into that with these two. I had work to finish up before the day was through, and I didn’t have time to play “guess what Nick’s penis looks like” for the next hour.

  Me: Yeah, I’m done with this insane Q&A. You’ll meet him tonight.

  Maybe. Probably. No, fuck that. I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Ivy: Boo! You’re no fun.

  Me: All right, I have to head into a meeting. I’ll see you crazy biotches tonight.

  There was no meeting. Only me trying to keep my sanity and not regret the plan of bringing Nick along for a night out with my girlfriends.

  Harper: You’re such a liar. But I’ll let this one slide since I get to see you tonight. :)

  Ivy: Woo-hoo! Charlotte is back in NYC, and the equilibrium of the world has finally been restored! See you tonight!

  Smiling at the last message, I locked my phone screen and set it down on my desk.

  Now, I just had to make a few calls, respond to, like, fifty emails, schedule six prospect meetings for next week, and top priority out of everything, figure out what in the hell I was going to wear tonight.

  No doubt, it needed to be something sexy, maybe even a little skimpy.

  Add a shopping trip to the list, I thought to myself as I scrolled through my emails. And when I saw one with a subject line that read, CALL YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER! in all shouty caps, I also added, call Mom and Dad to the list, too.

  The last time I’d seen my parents had been about a month before I’d moved back to the East Coast. They’d scheduled a week-long vacation to spend time with me, before they headed back home to Boca Raton in the sunny state of Florida.

  Yes, my parents were those retired people. Born and raised in NYC, once my dad was able to retire from his law practice, he and my mother had sold their apartment on Fifth Avenue and moved to a warmer climate with palm trees and early-bird dinner specials.

  Sure, it would’ve been nice to have my parents still in the city, especially since I was now here to enjoy time with them, but Dave and Sue were happy in their little bungalow close to the water, and when it came down to it, that was all that mattered.

  Plus, there were always some advantages to having several states between you and parental units. I mean, obviously, I loved my parents. Being an only kid, I had a childhood that revolved around both my mother and father doting on me constantly. But there was no denying that when I considered the fact that my mother had a tendency to meddle, the distance had its benefits.

  So, being the good daughter I was, I’d make sure I called them before I left the office.

  Otherwise, Sue Hollis might call the local police and have them file a missing person’s report.

  “You can stop right here,” I instructed the cabbie as he pulled in front of St. Luke’s main entrance.

  He slipped the engine into park. “That’ll be fifteen bucks.”

  “Thanks. Keep the change.” I handed him a twenty-dollar bill and slid out of the c
ab. Stilettos safely on flat ground and not in one of twenty cracks in the concrete, I shut the door and headed up the walkway toward the lobby of the hospital.

  Dressed to the nines in a slinky little gold sequin dress and nude heels—and not, say, covered in blood—I imagined I was an odd sight for a hospital visit. Hell, I could literally feel people glancing curiously in my direction as I walked through the doors and onto the elevator.

  A little after seven, I walked through the reception area of Nick’s office to find absolutely no one still working. Everything was silent as a mouse, and besides the tip-tap of my stilettos against the hardwood floor, no sounds reached my ears until I was within a few feet of his office door. It was partially open, and behind it, the sounds of fingers tapping against a keyboard filtered through the cracks.

  He was still working.

  I honestly wondered when he actually found the time to sleep.

  With a gentle push, I opened the door, the fresh light of his office contrasting with the mostly dark hall and illuminating handsome Nick Raines, sitting behind his desk, sexy reading glasses covering his face, and his full lips pressed into a firm, focused line.

  “Knock knock,” I announced my arrival, and he looked up from his laptop.

  Waves of satisfaction filled my belly as he took an extra long perusal of my body. His gaze started at my face and slowly, oh so slowly, worked its way down my chest to my hips and on to my legs, and then repeated one more time before finally settling back on my eyes.

  “Wow,” he muttered and opened and closed his mouth twice before adding, “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.” He nodded, and then he shook his head. “Wait…where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded and bit my lip. “Grab your shit, Nick. I’m ready to show you a good time.”

  “Wow. Okay.” He stood up and shut his laptop. “Going by the way you’re dressed, I guess it’s safe to assume this isn’t a Fleetwood Mac’s Sex Pants kind of thing?”

  I winked. “That would be a correct assumption.”

  For a man who stuck to a schedule that very rarely deviated, I knew it said a lot that he didn't ask any more questions as he shrugged on his suit jacket and tossed his keys, phone, and wallet into his pocket.

  “I have a feeling it's a good thing I'm not on call tonight,” he said, and I grinned.

  “That is a very good thing.”

  Nick rounded his desk and met me near the door. I went to move, ready to get the night under way, but he stopped me with a press of his hand to the bare skin of my back. My front effectively drawn to him, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss to my cheek.

  My panties prepared themselves for a deluge.

  But that was it, an innocent kiss and done before turning me, his warm hand still fresh on the skin of my back as he led me out of his office and toward the elevator.

  As we stood in front of it, waiting for the cart, he wrapped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side. His warm breath brushed the skin of my neck as he whispered into my ear. Fuck yes, more physical contact. “You look amazing tonight, Charlotte.”

  I felt high off his words, like any second I could orbit into space, when I saw what I thought was a light down the hall. It disappeared just as quickly, though, and Nick’s whole body felt like a heating pad for my own. I didn’t have time to bother thinking about fucking lights.

  “Thank you,” I quietly whispered back.

  His deep, chocolate gaze locked with mine. No words exchanged, just my eyes searching his and his searching mine.

  I wasn't sure what either of us was looking for, but the butterflies fluttering inside of my belly told me neither of us needed to search anymore. Everything we wanted was standing right in front of us.

  The elevator dinged its arrival, and Nick guided me inside. Our night had just begun, and already, I was a fan.

  A big, big fan.

  Two hours later, we were surrounded by pounding pop music and chatty patrons inside of a little dive bar in the FiDi district. Known by locals as the Iron Horse, it was nothing more than a dingy open space with a bar in the back, a dance floor in the center, and several tables nestled near the front corner of the establishment. But what it lacked in visual appeal, it made up for in cheap drinks, happy energy, and kick-ass beats.

  Nick and I sat side by side, our hands intertwined and resting on Nick's thigh, as my friends continued to ask him anything and everything about his upcoming show, The Doctor Is In. They were naturally impressed when I explained that my date was a neurosurgeon by day, but once I told them about the reality docuseries, they nearly lost their shit.

  The era of the Kardashians, ladies and gentlemen.

  I couldn't take my eyes off of him, hungrily devouring every minute detail of his eyes, his lips, his cheekbones. I rubbed at the skin on the back of his hand with my thumb, every stroke of contact electric in intensity.

  His lips lifted into a soft smile as he chuckled at something Harper had said, and I swooned a little more.

  “No, Jesus. This is nothing like the Kardashians," he explained. “It's just a reality docuseries about three doctors from St. Luke's.”

  “Holy shit, Char,” Ivy exclaimed over the pounding music and slapped her palms onto the table. “Have you been on camera yet?”

  “Uh… I don't think so.”

  She quirked a brow. “What do you mean you don't think so?”

  “Well… I mean…maybe once. But I doubt it would get used.”

  “Oh my God! You're going to be famous.”

  “Uh…no.” A shocked laugh escaped my lips. “I highly doubt me meeting Nick at his office for lunch while cameras were filming equals fame.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What were you wearing?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “A black skirt and a pink blouse,” Nick chimed in.

  Holy hell, he remembered what I had on?

  “Wait… Was it the sexy black one that has a little slit in the back?” Harper asked.

  Nick grinned and offered a little nod of an answer.

  “Oh boy. If your face isn't on camera, no doubt your ass will be. It looks crazy good in that skirt.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I highly doubt my ass will be the focus of a reality series about medicine.”

  Harper opened her mouth to most likely refute my argument, but the bartender dropping off another round of beers and shots at our table stopped her before she could start.

  I was eternally grateful for the reprieve alcohol had just provided.

  “Shit,” Nick muttered with wide eyes. “More shots?”

  “Uh-huh,” Ivy responded with a wink and held up her shot glass. “Cheers, bitches,” she said and downed the amber liquid.

  I followed her lead, and Nick did the same. I couldn’t help but grin at his bitter facial expression after he’d successfully downed his third shot of the night.

  “Jesus. Was that whiskey?”

  “Yep,” I said with a laugh and stood on my heels. “Now, if you chatty bitches don’t mind, I’m going to drag him onto the dance floor.”

  Ivy and Harper grinned, but Nick stared up at me in confusion.

  “Wait, what?” he questioned. “Dance? I don't dance.”

  I grabbed his hand and tugged him out of his seat. “You do tonight.”

  With what felt like two cinder block feet, Nick followed my lead as I weaved us through the crowd until we stood in the center of the dance floor.

  The bar felt charged, everyone feeding off of the smiles and dancing to the beat of “Hotline Bling.” And I was more than ready. Ready to move. Ready to dance. Ready to watch Nick let loose.

  With a little smirk, I put his hands on my hips and started to slowly move my body like an uncoiling rope. Standing frozen in his spot, he looked uncomfortable and awkward but completely fascinated as he watched me d
ance. The feeling was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, and all at once, I was moving, one with the music, and once he gave in to the beat, one with Nick.

  Laughing and smiling like loons, and with his hands on my hips, we danced to music so loud that we’d probably end up deaf by the end of the night. Everything else was inconsequential. Nothing else mattered but Nick and me and us having fun together.

  I felt like I could go all night, my feet moving to the crazy beat like they belonged to the music. I moved in my dress like my hips were made to sway, the gold sequins of the material catching the soft lighting of the kitschy disco ball twirling from the ceiling, launching every shade of the rainbow into the room.

  In the darkness of the club, my gaze stayed locked on Nick. His high cheekbones, his mischievous brown eyes, and the way his mouth appeared to be fixed into a smirk. Once he gave in to the music, he danced like no one was watching.

  But of course, I was watching. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

  God, he looked sexy when he let loose.

  His hand drifted to my hips again, settling there and pulling me closer against his warm, chiseled-to-perfection chest. Why must he feel so fucking perfect?

  Our gazes locked. The heat, the warmth, the intensity in his eyes urged a sharp inhale to fill my lungs. I splayed my hand over the material of his dress shirt and left it there, and both of our breaths quickened.

  He nuzzled my neck with delicate kisses. So faint, they felt like whispers. My heart tripped into a quick and reckless rhythm as he angled his head to the side and his lips came closer and closer to mine.