What the Heart Wants ; Sealed with a Kiss

by Donna Hill

  She got down on her knees, felt for her slippers and pulled them toward her. “Possessed,” she muttered and shoved her feet into the cushioned warmth. She shuffled into the bathroom, took care of her bladder then turned on the shower.

  * * *

  Refreshed and moderately caffeinated, she picked at her toasted everything bagel while scanning the front page of the Washington Post. Religion and politics were two topics that could make the good go bad, break up families and friends and incite wars. All very good reasons why she didn’t engage in those conversations. However, as she fumed from one headline to the next, one image after another, it was impossible for her to contain her horror over what was happening in the world. If only the fix to all things that were wrong in society could be repaired like a bad heart she would jump right in. But that was a pipe dream.

  She finished off her coffee and the last bit of her bagel and hopped down from the stool. The great outdoors was calling her. Yoga pants, sneakers, oversize sweater and infinity scarf, and she headed out with no particular destination in mind.

  The sun bounced off the windshields of parked cars and squinted the eyes of morning walkers and joggers. She held her face upward, smiled, then began her stroll. In the months that she’d been a transplant to Chocolate City, she’d made it a point to seek out places of interest and there were many. She decided to walk over to the National Mall—or the Great Lawn as some called the long expanse of green, flanked by museums, memorials and history—maybe buy a giant salty pretzel from a street vendor or if she was lucky find the artist who drew caricatures for fifteen dollars.

  She stopped at a curbside vendor that advertised an extensive list of smoothies that promised to help everything from exhaustion to improving eyesight. She opted for a green smoothie that claimed to boost her energy and continued her stroll along the pedestrian walkway. Even midweek the Great Lawn teemed with hand-holding couples, moms pushing strollers and children too young for school rolling and tumbling on the emerald-green grass. Coming from a place like California, she was accustomed to Rollerbladers on sidewalks, to scantily-clad women in open-top convertibles heading for the beaches, to the designer-suited businessman ready to close the next deal all within the space of a few feet of each other. But the first time she’d sought the sunshine of the North and found the National Mall, nothing could compare to seeing the Washington Monument rise toward the cloudless sky, against the backdrop of the US Capitol on one side and the Lincoln Memorial on the other. It took her breath away, leaving her with a sense of humility mixed with anger over America’s tumultuous history, especially when she visited the National Museum of African American History and Culture for the first of many times. She made a point to take the tour at least once per month to reinforce her commitment to make a difference in any way that she could.

  Today, however, she simply wanted to bask in the sunshine, inhale the aroma of hot dogs and spicy mustard, listen to muted conversations and lilting laughter.

  She spotted the perfect vantage point and walked off the concrete path, strolled up the emerald slope and settled beneath an unoccupied tree. Leaning back against the ancient knotted bark she jabbed the plastic straw through the hole on the cover of her smoothie and took a long sip. Not bad.

  Her gaze slowly roamed along the rolling landscape. It seemed like such a short time ago that this very lawn was covered with a mass of humanity that stood for hours in the bitter January cold to witness the first African American president being sworn into office. She’d stood side by side with her colleagues in the doctor’s lounge, some stoic, others brought to tears, but all awed by the spectacle, and filled with hope in their hearts for the future. That was then. Much had changed since then including her leaving the life she’d known to move across the country.

  A soccer ball bounced off her foot and snapped her out of her musings.

  “Sorry about that.” A long sweater-covered arm reached down for the ball.

  Dina’s gaze rose. She squinted against the sun, cupped her hand over her eyes. “Dr. Grant?” Her pulse raced.

  He straightened, tucked the ball under his arm. His eyes widened in surprise. “Dr. Hamilton...”

  “Hi.” She rose to her feet in one fluid movement. “Playing soccer? Didn’t know you had kids.”

  “I don’t. Unless you want to count my younger brothers,” he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

  Dina’s gaze followed his direction and spotted two men, one more gorgeous than the other. Must run in the family. “Oh.”

  “You here alone?” He scoped out the immediate area.

  “Yes. Actually. Needed to get out of the house.”

  He nodded, shifted his weight. “Well I’d better get back to the game. Enjoy your day. See you...at work.”

  “Sure.”

  He lifted a hand in a wave and jogged off.

  “Have a good game.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  “Took you long enough,” Monty groused and grabbed the ball from Franklin.

  “Who was that?” Alonzo asked, lifting his chin in the direction of Dina.

  “Doctor from the hospital.”

  “She could cure my ills any day,” Alonzo said and that earned him a fist bump from Montgomery.

  “We gonna finish this game or what?” Franklin asked.

  “She single?” Monty quizzed.

  “Don’t know. It’s none of my business whether she is or not.”

  “You should find out. You do need a date for the party,” Alonzo reminded him.

  Franklin snatched the ball from his brother. “Let’s play.”

  * * *

  Whatever peace and tranquility she thought she’d find beneath the yawning branches of the tree was totally upended. Her heart still raced. Working with Franklin Grant in the hospital setting was difficult enough. Seeing him out of his element added another layer that she wished she could peel back. But it was clear from his near-indifferent manner that there was no interest on his part.

  She finished off her smoothie, took a final gaze at the trio of brothers as they made looking ruggedly sexy as easy as breathing, then headed in the opposite direction, taking the long way to the exit.

  Chapter 3

  The reserved parking space in the hospital’s underground garage was one of the perks that Franklin truly appreciated, especially on a day like this one. Even at 7:00 a.m., the horizon remained in darkness, heavy gray clouds trolled the heavens emptying themselves in sheets and swirls. Flooding alerts dominated the forecast with no end in sight for the rest of the week. Days like this not only flooded the streets but also the emergency room, filling it with weather-related accident victims. Good day to stay in bed with a medical journal, but he had surgery in three hours.

  The private elevator hummed softly as it rose to the cardiac wing on the third floor. The instant he stepped onto the hospital floor a surge of energy flowed through his limbs. He’d never get enough of that rush, fueled by the beep of machines, the hushed steps of cushioned feet and the sense of urgency and purpose that pumped like a heartbeat.

  “Good morning, Dr. Grant,” the head nurse greeted.

  “Morning, Grace. Is Dr. Hamilton in yet?”

  “She’s in with a patient. Six B.”

  “Thanks.” He continued down the corridor lined with glass-fronted rooms occupied by patients in various stages of pre and post heart surgery. The clanging of metal carts being rolled down the hall by orderlies were the daily music to his ears. He either conducted the surgeries himself or oversaw the work of Dr. Hamilton, Jameson Memorial’s newest fellow. She was a skilled diagnostician and brilliant surgeon, he’d give her that. But she was also opinionated and too often she questioned and tested his decisions. The fact that she was the best cardiac surgeon he’d worked with in much too long made up for her lack of regard for hierarchy. None of
that was his real issue with Dina Hamilton. The real issue was that she was sexy as hell and threw him off his game with her very presence. That ticked him off and turned him on at the same time.

  Franklin shrugged out of his jacket, hung it on the hook in his office in exchange for his white lab coat, then went in search of Dr. Hamilton.

  * * *

  “Everything looks good, Mr. Vincent.” Dina checked the flow of fluids and the stats on the machines monitoring her patient’s vital signs. “I want you to rest for the next day. Then we’re going to get you up and walking.” She patted his shoulder. “I’ll check on you later this evening.”

  She turned, stopped short at seeing Franklin Grant standing in the doorway. Her stomach fluttered. He had an uncanny ability to unmoor her with those penetrating looks that dipped down into her soul and stirred all kinds of things that she couldn’t pin down. The fact that he towered over her five-foot-six-inch height only added to the feeling of being swallowed whole.

  “Dr. Grant.” She stuck her laser pen in the pocket of her lab coat, and gripped her iPad.

  “Dr. Hamilton.” He lifted his chin toward the patient. “How is he?”

  “Came through surgery fine. Vitals look good. How did the game go yesterday?”

  He almost smiled. “Same as usual. Cheaters.” He checked his Rolex. “I thought we could take a few minutes to go over the chart and the plan for the surgery.”

  “Your office?”

  Why does the question sound more like an intimate invitation than a request for a meeting? He cleared his throat. “Sure.”

  Dina made notes to the patient’s chart on her iPad, hit Send to upload to medical records and walked with Franklin toward his office on the opposite side of the corridor.

  It was faint, the soft scent of her that dared you to draw closer and experience it. Franklin shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. How was he supposed to concentrate on a complex surgery when she wore that scent? Something new? He wasn’t sure, just annoyed. Suddenly seeing her yesterday, out of the hospital, totally shook him. Gone was the starched professional. In her place was a carefree, sexy woman. And all night long he couldn’t get the image of her out of his head. The way her eyes lit up in the sunlight, the light coating of something glossy on those full lips or the white T-shirt that outlined the lushness of her breasts, those skin-hugging pants... He pushed the images away.

  Franklin opened the door to his office, held it open for Dina and when she passed he couldn’t help but inhale her. This time it was her hair. His lids drifted down. He started to close the door but left it partially open.

  Dina made herself comfortable in the chair next to his desk and crossed her legs.

  Franklin came around his desk, sat and turned on his computer. Within moments the medical history, films, test results, visits and recommendations came up on the screen. The surgery would take at least four to six hours.

  “I’d like to use the robotics for the first half of the procedure.”

  Franklin looked across at her, brow raised. She gazed back, unblinking. “You’re more than ready.”

  She smiled and nodded. “That I am.”

  “You’ll have an audience of interns in the theater.”

  Her eyes lit up. She gave a half shrug. “Won’t be the first time. That’s how we learn, right?”

  He half grinned. “Let’s hear your plan...” He turned the screen toward her.

  Dina pulled her chair around to Franklin’s side of the desk and leaned in for a closer look. Franklin’s jaw clenched. She pointed to several areas of the patient’s heart projected on the screen while detailing the plan for reconstruction of the damaged valves and how she would use the robotics to initiate the laser incisions.

  Franklin nodded and murmured in his throat, but if someone were to ask him what she’d said, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to recall. She was too close. That scent too lush. The way the waves of her hair framed her face, too appealing.

  “What do you think?”

  He adjusted the screen to give him a moment to reclaim his thoughts. “Our patient is in good hands.”

  Dina grinned, looked into his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. It means a great deal.”

  An awkward silence went up like a wall between them.

  “So...what do you do to unwind after a grueling surgery?” Dina finally said. “Me, a martini usually does the trick.”

  “I’m more of a bourbon guy.”

  She tilted her head to the side in appraisal, then nodded. “Yep. Bourbon fits you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, when I’m drinking alone, which I usually am, guys like you drink bourbon.”

  His lips twitched a moment. “First, why are you drinking alone and two, guys like me?”

  She held up a steady hand, long slender fingers, short nails—a surgeon’s hand. “Second question first.” She looked him straight in the eye. “What I meant by guys like you was men who know who they are, sometimes the strong silent type. They don’t make waves, just make moves.” She licked her bottom lip. “And to your first question I know that drinking alone may make me look desperate, but to be honest, I don’t know many people here in DC to hang out with when I need to hang, and drinking alone in my apartment is definitely not a good look.” She blinked rapidly, glanced away, then back at him.

  That would explain why she was alone in the park, why he rarely saw her engaged in any way other than in some professional capacity with any of the other doctors, and apparently she wasn’t seeing anyone. Coast clear. Franklin cleared his throat. “We can’t have that. Uh, maybe you’d like to come with me to an anniversary party.” Did he sound casual or creepy? “Still a few days away, but you’d get to meet a bunch of cool people and still have that martini.” What did he just do? “I mean you don’t have to feel obligated to go or anything...”

  “I... I’d really like that. Thank you.” Her brows knitted together. “Whose anniversary?”

  “My parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

  “Wow!” Her eyes widened. “Fifty years. I think my longest relationship was six months. And that’s a generous estimate.” She laughed.

  “Commitment issues?”

  “Hmm.” She frowned. “Not really.”

  He waited for some kind of clue to what she meant, but she didn’t elaborate.

  Dina slid her chair back, then pushed it to its place beside Franklin’s desk. She jammed her hands into the wide patch pockets of her lab coat. “I should get ready.” She picked up her iPad from the desk and walked to the door. “Open or closed?”

  Franklin blinked. “Uh, open is fine.”

  “See you in the OR.”

  Once Dina disappeared from the threshold of the doorway, Franklin plopped against the cushioned backrest of his chair. He pushed out a deep breath. He didn’t even realize he’d asked her to the party until he’d heard her answer. The words tumbled out of his mouth like some dazed school kid smitten by the prom queen. Now he was stuck. He couldn’t very well rescind the invitation. Working with her was becoming more difficult by the day. She was a distraction. Thankfully it wouldn’t be for too much longer. When the time came in the next couple of months, he’d sign off on her work at Jameson Memorial and she could move on. The upside was that he’d gotten a date out of the deal and he’d win the bet with his brothers. At least there was that.

  Chapter 4

  Dina walked back to her office in a bit of a daze. The last thing she’d expected was to be asked out by Franklin Grant. Dr. Grant was as inaccessible as the cure for the common cold. Aloof, some would say. She attributed his standoffish persona to more of a defense than offense. Then again, she was probably projecting her own issues onto him.

  She unlocked her office door and stepped inside. Fantasizing about him was one thing while they roamed the halls tog
ether and conferred on cases in tight spaces, complemented each other’s skill in the operating room, but a night out with him was something different. She wasn’t even sure why she’d agreed. The last time she’d been on a “date” was before she’d left Los Angeles to come to DC. Paul Greene. It was a disaster. After months of beating around the bush and flirting he’d finally asked her to dinner. Sometimes fantasies are best left alone.

  She could always change her mind. A woman’s prerogative. Then again that was a problem in itself. The last set of adjectives she wanted to be associated with was indecisive and flighty. The world of surgery was still dominated by men. They existed in a special kind of rarefied air that women still struggled to inhale. She wanted, no, demanded, the respect that was due her and she didn’t want her gender and all the “isms” associated with it to cloud the perceptions of her as anything other than a brilliant surgeon.

  So, if she couldn’t say no, guess she would have to find something to wear. In the meantime, surgery awaited.

  * * *

  After nearly five hours of open-heart surgery she felt energized rather than exhausted. The procedure was a resounding success. She replayed every minute in her head. Damn she was good. Having Franklin nearby overseeing her every move, encouraging and directing, could have been nerve-racking for someone else. For her, she rose to the challenge.

  “Nice work in there.”

  She glanced over her shoulder while getting out of her surgical garb. “Thanks.” She dumped her gown and gloves in the bin, then turned to look up at Franklin.

  He swiped his cap from his head.

  Her heart thumped. “I’d like to lead the team on the robotic training.”