***
I was in solid meetings at the office until noon. I had texted Will first thing in the morning to make sure he was feeling okay and told him I’d drop by to bring him lunch. At the hotel, I knocked on his door, waited, and then sent a text letting him know I was here. After no answer and five additional minutes, I started to get worried. That’s when I slid my in-case-of-complications-and-him-dying-emergency-key into the slot.
“Will,” I called out. The bed sheets were rumpled, but there was no sight of him. But then there he was in all his glory, wrapped only in a not-quite-small-enough towel around the waist. He was obviously fresh from the shower.
Evidently, hot Australian men without their shirts made me lose the power of stringing together coherent sentences. “Knocked and, um, lunch. Was worried.”
He grinned. “Sorry, I lost track of time and was in the shower.”
I finally came to my senses. It wasn’t as if I’d never before seen an attractive, half-naked man. Being in fashion, I’d viewed plenty of shirtless models. “Right, sorry. I brought you lunch, but I’ll set it on the table and leave you to change.”
“Let me grab my clothes and go into the bathroom to get dressed. If you have a few minutes, do you want to eat with me?”
I nodded. “Sure. Okay.”
Blowing out a breath when he shut the bathroom door, I thought, Catherine, get it together. The poor guy had just had surgery. Yet here I was lusting after him like some teenager. Although I certainly hadn’t had this sort of dirty thoughts running through my head when I was in my teens.
By deciding to busy myself with setting out lunch on the small table over by the window, I was able to recover by the time he came out in shorts and a T-shirt. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better after a good night’s sleep.”
“Good, but hopefully you’ll stay here the next two nights to ensure you get more rest. It’s what you need to heal.”
He regarded me thoughtfully while eating his soup and then spoke quietly. “I’ve been thinking and want you to know I meant what I said in Vegas. I have no intention of telling anyone your secret.”
My face heated with the unfortunate reminder of Club Travesty. Then it dawned on me why he was bringing this up. “You think that’s why I’m helping you?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “To be honest, I’m not sure. But if it is, I wanted to tell you it’s unnecessary.”
“I know enough about you through Haylee and Josh to have trusted you when you gave me your word the first time. And I don’t feel an obligation if that’s what you’re worried about. I just didn’t feel good about leaving you post-surgery on the floor in your apartment where no one even knew or seemed to care about what had happened.”
He sighed. “About that. I’m hoping since I can trust you’re not telling anyone about my second job, that you’ll also not mention the apartment to Haylee and our other friends.”
“I would have no reason to, but can I ask you something?”
He shook his head. “It’s not a subject I want to discuss if it’s about money or why I live there.” His jaw was set.
“Okay, then.”
“Look, it’s personal, okay?”
I lifted a brow. “And would it be terrible to share something personal with me after I confided some pretty private things about myself with you?” Frustrated that I’d go there, I cursed internally. “Forget I said that.” Why was I hurt he didn’t want to share something with me? It wasn’t as if we had the type of relationship where the unbalanced information should bother me.
He met my eyes, clearly not willing to let it drop. “You mean the list of your most intimate fantasies?”
Flushing at his bluntness, I muttered, “Yeah, so maybe you could see that document is shredded.”
“I could, but only if you have a copy for yourself. The fact I now know who you are doesn’t change what the list is about. It’s about expressing and opening yourself up to new experiences. Nothing we talked about in that room was fake, Cath. If you want, I’m happy to still see you at the club.”
So not happening. “No offense, but I don’t see myself returning to Club T. And how did we even get on the subject?”
“Nice nickname for the club and I’m sorry for bringing it up, I just feel bad that we didn’t finish.”
“You shouldn’t, and it’s fine.”
There was an awkward silence while we both ate our food until he suddenly broke it. “I send the money that I earn home to my family to help them out.”
“Oh.” He’d caught me off guard with his admission. My tone softened. “I didn’t mean to guilt you into telling me, but I appreciate that you shared it.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t want you thinking I had a gambling problem or something. Which by the way, the trip to Vegas—I had a sponsor thing that paid for the flight out on Friday, and then Josh invited me for the weekend.”
There was a touch of defensiveness in his tone, as though he needed me to believe he wasn’t taking frivolous vacation weekends. And because I couldn’t contain my curiosity, I flipped back to the previous subject. “Would you adjust anything about the advice you gave me as Calvin now that you know my identity?”
“Mm, it’s not like you followed my instructions in Vegas, Ms. Opting-For-The-Spa instead of going out and trying new things. Not to mention, you enlisted your friends to help you with the flirting via text assignment.” A smile curved his lips with the memory.
“I did feel a pinch of guilt over the spa, but I’d already made the appointments when you knocked. And in my defense of group texting, I learned a lot from the girls. I even downloaded emoticons.”
He laughed heartily before leaning back to study me. “You mentioned your dates go to shit and you don’t know why. Now that I’m aware of who you are, I could put a microphone on you and listen in. It would allow me to offer my feedback afterwards. I’ve done it with a couple of clients who were okay with me knowing their identity.”
Something about being called a client turned me off from the idea completely. “I’d have to think about it.”
He smirked. “Translation: not a chance in hell.”
His eyes held amusement and made me smile at his candor. “Pretty much, but I appreciate the offer. Um, I should return to the office, but I can bring you dinner.”
He hesitated before answering. “If you’re sure I’m not taking you away from other plans.”
Aside from drinking wine alone while shoveling something into my face over my kitchen sink or at my desk in the office, not so much. “No plans this evening.”
“Any luck with Melanie?”
And just like that, we were back into weird territory with this reminder of Calvin’s suggestion for a matchmaker. “I have my first date on Friday, actually. Anyhow, I’ll come by after work tonight, about seven o’clock. Any requests for food?”
He stood up gingerly, walked over to the nightstand, and grabbed his wallet. “Nope, I’m not very picky. Here’s a twenty. Since you got lunch, let me buy dinner.”
I was about to argue but realized it was important to him. So I took the money without a protest, promising to meet him later.
***
I wasn’t sure what to get for dinner with Will, and after spending fifteen minutes perusing menus, I realized I was spending way too much time stressing over it. This wasn’t a date, and I wasn’t out to impress him. This was a guy recovering from surgery who needed sustenance and company. And maybe breakfast for the morning while I was at it. I had my assistant, Erin, place the order before she left for the day.
When I showed up at Will’s room with food in hand, I was amazed to see him looking so good—I mean recovered—when he answered the door. His blue eyes appeared brighter, and his skin color had returned to normal.
“You look much better.”
“I’m feeling better after sleeping most of the day. I can’t remember the last time I’ve channel surfed and napped like this.”
We took seats at the small table, and I took out the contents of the bag I’d brought, which included pasta, chicken, and garlic bread. Nothing said comfort quite like carbs. “Your body needs it. My dad wanted me to ask you if—” I took out my phone to read the text. “If you have any sign of fever, redness, or warmth around the incision site?”
“I don’t feel feverish, and the incisions seem good, I think.” He pulled up his shirt to reveal the bandages, peeling them back slowly. His eyes met mine, and he apologized. “Sorry. You’re not squeamish about this stuff, are you?”
I shook my head. Nope, but I was in the process of becoming completely stupid at the sight of his impressive body. “No, I’m a doctor’s daughter. It looks like it’s healing.”
We ate in silence until he inquired about my date coming up on Friday. “What do you know about him?”
Deciding it was easier to show him, I brought up Melanie’s email with my date’s profile information and handed it over. Will took a few minutes to read it, and I found myself wondering what he thought. Paul was an investment banker, divorced, with no kids. He was forty, loved to play golf, and appeared to take care of himself if his profile picture was any indication.
“It appears he checks all of your criteria,” Will commented, handing my phone back to me.
His voice sounded flat, but I decided I must be imagining it. “Yes, he sure seems to.”
“Tell me about your family. You said your dad is a heart surgeon?”
“He is. My younger brother is a doctor, as well.”
He raised a brow. “Impressive. Is he in Boston, too?”
“No, he actually does Doctors Without Borders and has been in Africa the last few months. Although he’s brilliant and amazing for doing that, I think secretly he does it to get away from my meddling mother.”
Will laughed. “She tries to set him up with all available females?”
I smirked. “No, it’s worse. My brother is shy and because of his medical studies and travel doesn’t date much which of course led my mother at one point to think he may be gay. And in order to show her unwavering support of either preference she’d test him by whispering very loudly, ‘What about her? Are you attracted to her? Or how about him, dear? Do you prefer the penis?’ Obviously, it’s beyond embarrassing and sent him all the way across the world.”
Will nearly spit out his soup. “You’re kidding?”
I shook my head and recalled another story, enjoying the conversation shift to our families.
***
Tonight was Will’s last night in the hotel, and I found myself making up an excuse to go see him with dinner even though we hadn’t discussed it. My plan was to bring up a modelling opportunity with a photographer with whom he’d previously worked. I didn’t dare examine why I was practically giddy about seeing him again, but I did acknowledge I’d grown accustomed to his company.
We’d taken some time getting to know one another last night. I’d learned he had an older brother and a younger half-sister from his mum—still adorable when he called her that. His father and mother had divorced when he’d been ten. He’d moved to the States with his father, who was American, before returning to Australia where he’d attended college. Then he’d moved to New York when a modelling scout had taken notice of him. He took classes part time and hoped to be a counselor some day and work with people. I could see it. Will was very easy to talk to.
After knocking on his door, I smoothed down my hair and waited. I rapped one more time and sent a text telling him I’d brought dinner by. Not that it was a bad thing to walk in on him fresh from the shower, as experience dictated, but I didn’t want to make it a habit. So I waited five more minutes before sliding my key in. But instead of turning green and letting me in, it only clicked red. His incoming text message explained why.
“Sorry, I had a modelling gig that I received a call for down in Miami. I checked out this morning so they would credit your account with the unused points. I can’t thank you enough, not only for taking care of me, but for your company over the last couple of days. I’d like to think of us as friends now.”
I swallowed hard with disappointment even though I knew it was stupid to go there. I hoped being on a plane this soon after his surgery wouldn’t cause him any pain. But obviously, he wasn’t going to turn down a job when he needed the money, especially with his unplanned medical expenses. And that reminded me; I had a phone call to make that would hopefully help ease his burden.
CHAPTER SIX
It was Thursday. It had been three days since I’d last seen or spoken with Will, but I was slammed with work, which proved to be a welcome distraction. With New York Fashion Week coming up next month, including many events I’d be attending, my fall was shaping up to be quite packed, per usual.
I’d put the latest issue of my magazine to bed and finally could start thinking about my date tomorrow night. I’d already made a list of things I could talk about and another of the items off limits. Funny how the not to talk about list was longer, topped with the subject of my divorce or anything having to do with my ex-husband. I’d learned my lesson. The topic was an instant turnoff, and I would steer clear of it. Knowing my date had been married previously took some of the pressure off, though, since we’d have that in common.
As I was about to pack up and call it a day, Erin buzzed me. “Ms. Davenport, a Will MacPherson is here to see you. He says he doesn’t have an appointment but, uh—” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s freaking hot as hell, and it could be my pregnancy hormones talking, but if I were you, I’d make it a point to see him.”
I smiled at my assistant’s assessment. “Okay, then. Send him in.”
Standing up when the door opened, I then had to grip the edge of my desk to keep from having a physical reaction to how good he looked in his slacks and button-down shirt. Unfortunately, the distraction of his appearance left me unprepared for his anger after he shut my door.
“Did you pay my hospital bill?” He didn’t raise his voice, but the tone and the pulsing of his jaw left no doubt regarding how pissed he was.
“No,” I replied without hesitation. But I was clinging to a technicality, and he had my number.
“Fine, let me ask the question another way. Did you make an anonymous donation to New York Presbyterian Hospital which covered my expenses?”
Shit. I tried a new tactic. “Will, I make a lot of charitable donations, and they took very good care of you there. I expressed my gratitude and wanted to—”
“Cut the bullshit, Catherine. It’s a yes or no question.”
I sighed heavily and took a seat. I had no idea who at the hospital had told him his bill had been paid, but clearly my anonymity hadn’t been as guaranteed as I’d hoped. “Yes.”
He paced my office, irritation evident on his face. “How much was it?”
“I only have an estimate.” And that was the truth. I’d donated thirty thousand, knowing it would cover the surgery. Even on the high side, that would only rise to twenty five thousand, but I knew they’d put the extra to good use. I hadn’t asked for an actual invoice.
He swallowed hard and took a seat across from my desk, eyes fixed on mine. “Why?”
I wasn’t sure I had a good answer for him, aside from the fact it made me feel good to do something nice for people when I had the means to do so and that I’d hoped he’d never find out. “I give money every year to hospitals. With my dad being a surgeon, and my brother also a doctor, we’ve always made such donations a priority in my family. So for once, why shouldn’t I have that gift go towards someone I know who can use it rather than to a faceless stranger?”
“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in agitation. “I pay my own way, always have.”
“I don’t doubt it, but that’s what makes people want to do something for you. You didn’t ask to get appendicitis without medical insurance. And given that you send the money you do make home to your family, I have nothing but r
espect.”
He appeared to calm some, but it was short-lived. “I’m paying you back once I find out how much it was. What was the estimate?”
“Twenty-five thousand on the high side or seventeen on the low.”
He sucked in a breath at the staggering amount. Even I’d been taken aback initially. I could only imagine how much a more complicated procedure involving many days in the hospital could cost without insurance.
“Holy shit. Imagine if I’d spent the night.”
“I know.”
He suddenly looked as though he had an idea. “Your date is tomorrow night, right?”
Of all the things for him to ask, this particular question I hadn’t expected. “Yes, why?” There was a good amount of trepidation in my voice.
“Since I can’t pay you that amount of money right now, I’m going to work it off.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need assistance with your dates, and I need to pay you back.”
“This isn’t—I mean, I don’t need help.”
“Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come to Club T in the first place.”
My face heated with the reminder, and I shook my head. “Can’t you just take the donation for what it was?”
“No,” he said simply. He was being stubborn and clearly felt it important not to take charity from anyone.
And the truth was, maybe I could use his help. But the reason I didn’t want it at this point had more to do with my attraction to him and less to do with any lingering awkwardness.
Sensing my hesitation, he used a tactic I wasn’t expecting: Vulnerability. “It would mean a lot if you’d let me do this. You wanted to help me, and now I’d like to return the favor.”
How in the hell could I say no? But I needed terms to ensure this didn’t drag out. “If I let you do this, then you agree that for every hour a thousand comes off the total. And we go with the low estimate of seventeen.”
“One thousand is too much…”
“It’s what I paid at Club T.” I realized he had no clue how much clients paid by the expression on his face. It made me wonder what he ended up earning out of that thousand.
Teach Me Something (Something Series Book 4) Page 7