“Peyton. Her name is Peyton Colfax. In addition to being an art teacher, she’s also a painter and a photographer.”
“Peyton likes to keep busy.”
“She’s really talented.”
“And I bet she’s pretty.”
“Breathtaking,” Alex murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Can you send me Marco’s cell number and the info about the wine tasting?”
“Sure. Marco’s showcasing a new champagne I’m thinking about adding to my wine list at the Slap. You can be the official taster and tell me what you think,” Derek said. “I have to go. Lex will be up in a little bit, and she’s going to be hungry.”
“Give both my ladies a kiss for me.”
“Give Noah and Chloe my love.”
Alex ended the call and lifted out of his chair. Going to Marco’s wine tasting sounded like fun. He wanted to go and wanted to ask Peyton to go with him. As luck would have it, she was on the campus today teaching a class in the neurology wing of the hospital. He’d seen the sign when he entered the building.
For a moment he paused, frowning. What if she said no? Sure they’d made peace at the farmer’s market, but that didn’t mean she wanted to go out with him. But he wanted to spend more time with her. If she said no, he would have to convince her.
He went out to his secretary’s desk. “Stella. What’s the quickest way to neurosurgery?”
“Take the elevator to the second floor. Make a right when you get out and follow the signs to the skywalk that connects the buildings. You’ll see more signs.” She stood. “Do you want me to take you?”
“No, I think I’ll find my own way.” He smiled. “I shouldn’t be long.”
She smiled back. “Take your time. You’re the boss.”
Alex straightened his tie as he caught his reflection in the door’s glass pane. He hoped she’d say yes.
* * *
Peyton walked the room, surveying her students’ work. There were six of them in class today, and they’d been painting for over an hour. The sun was filtering brilliantly into the room, casting a soft hue on the flower arrangement. She’d started with this particular group a few weeks ago and loved the progress she was seeing. Three of the students were recovering from brain surgery due to cancer, one had had an aneurysm, and the last was a professional baseball player recuperating from a concussion after being hit in head with a fly ball.
Some of them needed the pre-drawn templates she’d sketched freehand that morning, but a few were adventurous enough to start with a fresh canvas.
“What do you think?” Joe, the baseball player, said.
“That’s great, Joe. I think you’re showing a lot of promise.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this artsy stuff.” He shook his head. “Last month I was at a training camp hitting balls at one hundred miles an hour. My reputation is going to take a major hit if this ever gets out.”
She did research on all of her students. Joe’s excessive lifestyle was splashed all over the Internet. “So you’d rather be known as a hothead womanizer who hates authority?”
“Yeah. I can’t help it if I’m so good at what I do in both arenas. More money, more options.” He grinned.
“I hate to tell you, Joe, but that’s not very original. I think having a mega ego and treating women like playthings is a cliché gold standard in professional sports these days. For once I’d like to see someone who was spotlighted for loving one person and not being allergic to commitment, no matter how much money he has in his bank account.”
“You tell him, Peyton,” Flora, the aneurysm patient, yelled out.
“Is that why you said you wouldn’t go out with me after I get sprung from this place?”
“I’m your teacher.”
“You’re not a real teacher.”
“But I am here to help aid in your recovery. It’s a blurred line, but you should never become personally involved with someone who has an investment in your performance.”
“But I wouldn’t be a student.”
She shrugged. “OK. You’re not my type.”
“What? I’m every woman’s type.”
“I know you think you are, but that’s simply not true. Being self-aware can be a double-edged sword. Sometimes it promotes delusions of grandeur.” Like a certain doctor she knew.
“Yeah, yeah. So what is your type?”
“Maturity, for one thing.” She winked. “Now it’s time to exercise the right side of your brain. And doing that can help you heal. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a better baseball player too.”
Peyton continued walking the room and stopped at another patient’s easel. Flora was a natural artist and a kindred spirit. She was so good, Peyton wasn’t sure why she was taking the class. But she did enjoy their chats that lasted for hours after the class was over.
“Flora, that is beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’m still working on my brush strokes.”
Peyton peered closer at the canvas. “It looks good to me. I knew you’d stop being so jittery once you got back into the flow of things. An artist never loses their touch.”
“I used to drink chamomile while I painted. It helped calm me.” Flora dabbed her brush into a red color on the palette.
“I drink pinot noir.” She laughed. “Keep up the good work. I’d like to hang that one on my superstar wall when you’re finished with it.”
“I love this class. It’s better than therapy.” Flora touched her hand. “You should consider getting a degree in art therapy.”
“I thought about it, but I’m just happy the hospital lets me instruct you guys. I promise not to counsel, it’s part of my contract.”
“Don’t look now,” Flora whispered, leaning closer. “But I think your type just walked through the door.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a handsome young man standing by the door staring at you.”
Peyton turned to see Alex leaning against the door frame. What was he doing here?
Alex waved to her. “Ms. Colfax.”
“Dr. Popovich.” She waved back but remained rooted in her spot next to Flora.
“I don’t know what he wants,” Flora murmured, “but if you don’t go over there I will.”
The class made immature kissing sounds as she made her way to Alex. Well, everyone with the exception of Joe who decided to boo. When she reached Alex, she motioned for him to step back so she could close the door. They’d already been an interruption for the lesson.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“I thought I’d come say hello and see you in action.”
“Not much to see, really. They are my rowdier bunch.”
“I see you have a fan.” He pointed to the glass-paned door. Joe had stopped painting and was looking at them.
“Joe suffers from the hazards of being young, rich, and reasonably attractive. We get celebrities in here who think the world revolves around them.”
“I like how you responded to him. It’s good to let those rich types know they can’t take whatever they want.”
“You heard that?”
“I’ve been here for a few minutes. Partly because I didn’t want to interrupt, but then it became entertaining. I thought you reserved all that fire for your interactions with me.”
“No. I’m this way everywhere I go.” She ran a hand through her hair, but quickly put her hand back down. She normally did that hair move when she was enjoying flirting with someone. And she did not want to flirt with Alex.
“I think Mr. Baseball will be here a bit longer.”
“Why?” Her eyes widened. Was there a new development in Joe’s diagnosis? She knew he probably wouldn’t tell her. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all. Joe was a bit of a pill, but she didn’t want anything else to be wrong with him.
“He clearly has the symptoms of early onset megalomania.” Alex laughed.
“And in his case, probably incurable.” She laughed too, liking Alex�
��s smile. It was genuine and made her feel warm inside. She could tell he didn’t take happiness for granted.
“Listen, I dropped by because I wanted to ask—”
“Aleksandr, so lovely to see you again,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted from down the hall.
It was an older woman dressed very chicly, who was accompanied two men. One of them was Jeff, the head of the neurology department. The other was a man she’d never seen before. As they ventured closer, the older woman’s face became much clearer. It was Enid Prendergast, one of the hospital’s biggest contributors and obviously a friend of Alex’s.
“Mrs. Prendergast.” Alex smiled. “You’re looking well.”
She beamed. “I feel fabulous. Meeting you has done wonders for my heart.”
Jeff flashed a tight smile. “I see formal introductions aren’t necessary.”
“Aleksandr and I know each other intimately.” Mrs. Prendergast winked.
Everyone looked at Alex.
“She’s my patient,” Alex asserted.
“Dr. Cranford was giving me a strong sales pitch. It’s donation time, and he wants to make sure I allocate funds to the neurosurgery wing.” Mrs. Prendergast sighed. “I’ve made an appointment with you as well, Aleksandr. I can’t wait until we get together. We could meet in your office, but I wouldn’t turn down a dinner invitation if you wanted to try and persuade me.”
“I would never insult you by stroking your ego. If you do donate anything to cardiology, it’s because you know it’s the right thing to do.”
“He’s so honest and direct it’s refreshing,” Mrs. Prendergast said. “What are you doing in the art therapy wing?”
“I was just stopping by to say hello to Peyton.” Alex motioned in her direction. “Not only does she teach classes here for the patients, but she’s also my kids’ art teacher. You should check out her photographs. She has a unique and unflinching view of the world in all its natural splendor. She paints too.”
Peyton bit her lip. “I don’t know about all that.”
Alex grinned at her. “She’s just being modest.”
“It’s obvious you have fans, my dear. Take the compliment. Your name isn’t familiar. Have you had a gallery opening recently?”
“No. I’m still trying to put one together.”
“I love young artists.”
Jeff coughed. “I hate to interrupt. But I have to finish showing Mrs. Prendergast around.”
“Bye, Aleksandr.” Mrs. Prendergast kissed him on the cheek. “Peyton, I’ll keep an eye out for your gallery opening.”
As soon as they continued down the hall, Alex straightened up and became serious. “I’ve been invited to a wine tasting at the Paloma Vineyard in Napa. The owner’s a friend of the family. I know it’s short notice, but I just learned about it today. Would you like to join me? It’s likely to be an all-day event.”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up on Saturday around nine. I just need your address.”
Peyton took out her cell phone and once Alex gave her his number, sent him a text with her address. He thanked her with one of those warm smiles that heated her from the inside out and he headed down the hall. She watched him for a few moments before she went back to her class.
“Who was that?” Joe asked as soon as she stepped inside.
“That was Dr. Popovich, the head of the cardiology department.”
“Fitting.” Flora giggled. “He gave me heart palpitations.”
Joe frowned. “So that’s your type?”
“Back to work, Joe. If you paid this much attention to the flower petals, you wouldn’t have to paint over them every week.”
Flora held up her palette, so Peyton walked over to her.
“Do you have a date?”
“Yes.” She playfully rolled her eyes.
“Good. You look like you could use a day to have some fun.”
“Thanks, Flora. I think.”
“Now I know where you got the inspiration for this color you mixed for me.” She pointed to the blue on the palette. “Glacial blue, you called it? Funny how it’s the same color as the handsome doctor’s eyes.”
“Just a coincidence.” Peyton scurried back to the front of the class.
Leave it to another painter to see what she’d done. She’d really be embarrassed if Flora ever saw her studio at home. The blue of Alex’s eyes had haunted her since the day they met. It had given her a jumpstart on her painting again. She tried her best not to over-analyze the motivation for him asking her to the wine tasting. Spending the day in Napa with fine wine and a handsome, intriguing doctor was just what she needed right now.
CHAPTER SIX
Alex woke up in a good mood, looking forward to spending the day with Peyton, but that good feeling was immediately replaced with a major case of jitters. He hadn’t felt this way since his early days of surgery. He flexed his left hand. It felt naked. He’d taken off his wedding ring last night. He’d wrestled with the decision into the wee hours of the morning but finally decided it was time.
No sense in lying in bed and fretting. Aubrey would be there in a bit to look after the kids. He went downstairs, put on the coffeemaker, and paced like crazy until he heard the doorbell. He opened it to find Grayson standing there with his car keys dangling in the air.
“What’s up?”
“We’re switching cars today.”
“Why?” Alex gave him a quizzical look.
“Because convertible sports cars are sexy, romantic, and you have a better chance of getting laid.”
“Hey.” He looked back to make sure the kids hadn’t come down stairs yet. “I’m not trying to get laid.”
“You really should. A roll in the hay would do you some good. Take away some of that I’m-working-way-too-hard intensity. I’m pretty sure you could start a car battery with one hand.”
“Don’t worry about my intensity. And SUV or not, a Porsche is still plenty damn sexy.”
“That’s a Porsche too?” Grayson squinted in the direction of his car. “Wow. You’ve managed to give an expensive, sultry foreign car brand a mini-van vibe.”
“Ha ha.”
“Here’s a list of wine I want you to get. They have a special bottle that they don’t normally sell to the public, but I’m hoping you can snag one for me.” Grayson shook his head and looked at the car again. “I guess I’ll have to tootle around town in that.”
“Like I want to be seen in a phallic symbol on wheels with the plate 2HNDSUM.”
“Self-awareness is not a crime. And I find the double entendre amusing.” He chuckled.
“What are you going to be doing in town?”
“I got roped into attending a town council meeting. You yammering on about that mobile clinic awoke my civic pride.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “What’s really going on?”
“I was thinking of doing cosmetic consultations at the next town event.”
“I can’t tell you how many things can go wrong with that idea. Let me make you a cup of coffee and I’ll list them all.”
“No can do. I was roommates with you, remember? No stalling, you have to get ready for your date.” Grayson grasped his shoulders. “Dress comfortable but not too relaxed. You’re not going vegetable picking at the farmer’s market. Wear something blue, to bring out the color of your eyes. Scale back on the cologne and don’t shave. Women dig the rugged look. Be attentive, and for heaven’s sake, enjoy the wine and especially the company.”
“Thanks.” Alex grabbed his keys out of the bowl on the foyer table and switched with Grayson. “The registration is in the glove box.”
“Ditto. Have a good time.” Grayson started toward Alex’s SUV. “Oh. There’s a black bag in my trunk. It has a cache of condoms in it. Feel free to use a few. You may want to do a few stretches beforehand. It was has been a while.”
“Keep it down.” Alex rolled his eyes and closed the door.
A half hour later, Aubrey fina
lly arrived. He went over the emergency numbers and protocols if something should happen, but he knew he was doing it mostly for his benefit. Aubrey was a sweet girl and she was smart. The kids loved her, and they were always fine when he returned home. Now all that was left to do was remind the kids he would be out.
He was still mulling over telling them he was going out with Peyton. Would it be weird? No, he needed to be honest with them and answer their questions. During breakfast, he thought he was being cool, but his anxiety must have shown. Noah moved the orange juice out of his way after he nearly knocked it over twice.
“OK, lady and gent,” he said. “I’ll be gone for most of the day, but Aubrey’s going to take good care of you.”
“OK,” they said in unison and went back to their cereal.
“And if you need anything, you know my cell.”
“OK.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No.” Noah shrugged. “Have a good time.”
“Love you and be good.” He gave them each a kiss on the head before slowly walking out of the kitchen.
Aubrey linked arms with him and walked him to the door. “Don’t worry, Alex. The kids and I will be fine. I have activities lined up after I check their homework.”
“If you can’t get me, call my brother Derek or my friend Grayson.”
“If anything comes up, I’ll follow your instructions.”
“Thanks, Aubrey.” He slowed his pace when he walked by one of Rachel’s photos. “I should be home by midnight.”
“If you wanted to stay over, I cleared my evening schedule and I have a bag in the car.” She smiled.
“Oh.” A pink sheen spread across his face. “No. We’ll definitely be back tonight.”
“You never know if you’ll get a flat tire or run out of gas.” Aubrey smiled. “Or some other ruse you older folks used back in the day.”
“You do know video games were up and running when I was born, right?”
“Yeah, my dad had an Atari too.” Aubrey gave him a hug and gently pushed him out the door.
It was what he needed to get on with the day, some encouraging words from someone who hadn’t had their butt kicked by love yet. He wanted this to be just another ordinary Saturday, only he knew it wasn’t. He tried to convince himself it was no big deal. He’d been on plenty of dates before. It had been a hundred years ago, but he was still familiar with the mechanics of interacting with a woman in a social setting.
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