Good Time Doctor

by Penny Wylder

“Second?” I smirk. “I wasn’t aware that what we did last night counted as a date, in your book.”

  “All right, a first date, then.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” I pretend to scratch my chin, considering. “Does that mean we’d have less time together holed up in a hotel room next time? Because I have to say, that’s more than a little frustrating to imagine. You ran away and left me wanting this morning…”

  “I sent you breakfast,” he points out.

  “Yes,” I agree. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to put in my mouth.” My cheeks flare again, but I ignore it and keep my expression sober, fixed on him.

  He cracks a smile first. “I see. Well then, what if I promised that wherever I took you on this first date of ours, it would be followed by plenty of chances for us to both satisfy our every… desire… with one another.”

  “Mm… I suppose I could work with that,” I reply slowly. “Depends, though. See, I got into this injury today, and it’s making me really impatient to see my doctor again as soon as possible.”

  His smile widens. “You don’t have any problem seeing an escort a second time, then?” He arches both eyebrows, studying me. I feel a pinch in my arm and gasp, only to look down and realize he’s removed the IVs from my arm.

  “Well. Now that I know you have a respectable job and all.” I smirk right back.

  He laughs. “All right, then, Naomi.” He stands, and I resist the urge to reach for him and drag him right down onto my bed here and now. His gaze drifts toward the door, as though he’s having the same thought I am. “Get that bed rest,” he tells me again. “I’ll meet you tonight, if you can make yourself wait that long, Ms. Insatiable.” His eyes sparkle with mirth as he says it.

  “I’ll try my best,” I promise, even though I can already tell it’s going to be difficult. My heart keeps beating faster long after he’s left the room, as I set about climbing out of the bed and gathering my things. It turns out the mystery around my mystery man is only getting deeper.

  6

  “And you’re sure you’re feeling all right now?” Monica studies me sideways in the dim car. I spent most of the evening at her house lying on the couch napping. Becca was on nurse duty, bringing me ice cream and soda and snacks from the kitchen, even long after I groaned and protested that I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  “You have to eat enough to get better,” she insisted, even when I laughed and promised I was fine.

  Now, I stifle a smile at her mom acting the same way, still worried about me. “Dr. Robinson said I’d have shown more symptoms by now if there was anything really wrong. It was just a few bruises in the end, nothing serious.”

  “Hmm,” Monica replies, clearly not entirely satisfied by the answer. She checks the rearview, then makes a turn to take us closer to the hotel where I’m still staying. After another pause, she checks on me again. “Dr. Robinson, huh? He was pretty fine.”

  I stifle a smile. “Not the worst face to wake up to, I have to admit.”

  “He took pretty well to you blatantly propositioning him too.” Monica smirks. “Anything I should know about?”

  My fierce blush probably gives her all the answer she needs.

  “Well.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Far be it from me to blame you for going after a hot rebound like that. Especially after everything you’ve been through lately. God knows you deserve a hot guy who knows a thing or two about anatomy.”

  “He definitely knows that,” I answer without thinking, and then realize what I just admitted.

  “Oh, my god.” Monica swerves a little, and I’m surprised we don’t wind up in a second accident for the day, before she corrects the car and stops at the next red light. Then she whirls on me, her expression torn between scolding and approving. “You did not.”

  “Did not what?” I reply with an attempt at an innocent smile.

  “Naomi Jordan, I know your ‘I’m so innocent’ face, and I’m not falling for it.” She shoots me another glare, but the light turns green, and forces her to tear her eyes back to the road. “What, did you guys hook up in the hospital bed? Or sneak to a supply closet?” She shakes her head, still trying to stay mad at me, I can tell, although part of her is laughing. “Honestly, though, props, girl. I mean, with the way he looks, can you imagine how often he gets propositioned? Kudos on convincing him to act on it for once.”

  My face flares all over again, this time because I can’t stop my mind from immediately jumping to the bathroom wall where I found his number. Oh, I can guess how often he gets propositioned, actually. I clamp my mouth shut over that reveal. There’s one conversation I don’t want to delve into with her, especially not if it might startle her into giving me another almost concussion. “We didn’t hook up in the hospital,” I protest.

  “Oh, what, so you banged in the ambulance on the way in?” She snorts.

  “No! I… he was…” I chew on my lower lip, trying to think of a way to phrase this without giving myself away. “I met him at the hotel,” I finally admit. True, really. That was where I found his number and where I first met him face-to-face. “We hooked up.”

  “How long ago did you actually sign your divorce papers?” Monica casts me another sideways glance.

  I grimace. “Um. Yesterday.”

  “And when was this hookup?”

  “Last night,” I mumble under my breath, already knowing what’s coming.

  She breathes out a long sigh through her nose. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, or anything. And seriously, good for you for rebounding with a hot life-saving doctor. Like… we can all only be so lucky. But…” She purses her lips, and casts me another quick glance. “Just, be careful, okay, Naomi?”

  If possible, my face could have started a small fire by now. “We used a condom, thanks Mom.” I groan.

  “I don’t mean that!” She taps on the steering wheel. “Well, okay, I mean, that’s a good idea too. But, Naomi, I mean be careful to… jump in. Again. So quickly.”

  “Who said anything about jumping anywhere?” I cast her a long, dubious sideways glance. “We hooked up. That’s all it was. Just sex.”

  Just the best goddamn sex of my life, part of me can’t help but add. And a day full of fantasies and torturing myself ever since, imagining him locking the door to that hospital room and taking me all over again, right then and there…

  I clear my throat a little louder than necessary.

  “Well, good,” Monica is saying. “In that case, carry right the fuck on.” She cracks a grin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the moment or nag you or anything. I just… I can’t help thinking about what happened last time.”

  “Believe me, neither can I,” I mumble. “Trust me, I’m in no rush to jump straight into something else right now, Mon. Hell, the ink on my divorce papers is still drying. And the last thing I need right now are more complications in my life.” Or a hot mysterious doctor who moonlights as a… what? A bathroom pickup artist? A sexual deviant?

  A shiver traces down my spine. If that’s how sexual deviants fuck, maybe I’ve been missing out by not calling for more good times.

  Somehow, though, I can’t help but feel that what happened with Jason was different. Unique. Not just for me, but for him too. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe Naomi is right, and I need to calm down the daydreaming.

  “You just have a tendency to leap in with both feet first, without consideration for the consequences. Like with Kevin. You guys moved so fast—”

  “And I didn’t listen to my friends when I should have,” I reply. “Trust me, I’ve heard the I told you so speech enough times before, Mon. From you and from just about everyone.”

  “You know we only give you that speech because we love you, right?” She casts me a sideways glance. “Look, Dr. Hotpants might be what you need right now in the boning department—”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. what?” I burst out laughing.

  “But what you need in the emotional departme
nt is some chill time with your friends, okay?” She reaches a hand over to the passenger side, and I grasp her hand, squeezing her fingers quickly.

  “Deal,” I reply. “Girls’ movie night this weekend?”

  “Only if you can convince Becca not to make us watch Moana for the 1000th time,” Monica replies with a laugh.

  “But Moana is the best,” I reply, and she groans.

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” She pulls up outside the hotel, and glances through the windshield at the building, her lips twisted into a disapproving frown. “You know, Naomi, you can always come stay with us for a while, if you want.”

  “I know I can.” I smile. “You’ve told me that only about a few hundred times since I moved out of Kevin’s, you know.”

  “Well, the offer still stands. You don’t have to stay in this…” She waves a hand toward the building like it’s personally offended her. “Cold, anonymous monstrosity.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I protest. “Free breakfast included. They even bring it to you in bed.” My pulse speeds up again, remembering this morning, the note Jason left me. Was it only this morning? So much had happened today. My head throbs again, not just from the sore spot where I hit it. “I like it, Mon. I needed a little… me time, I guess. After finalizing everything.”

  “I understand that.” She presses her lips together, clearly resisting the urge to say anything else. “Okay. Well. Enjoy your me time. Call if you need anything, as always.” She leans across the seat to hug me, one armed.

  I hug her back tightly. “Of course. You too.” I flash her a smile. “I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow, yeah?”

  She smiles back. “See you then.”

  With that, I slide out of the car, and pull my phone from my pocket. There’s a new message. I already know who it’s from, even before I open it and check the screen.

  Can’t wait to see you.

  I smile as I type out a response. Now who’s the impatient one?

  I should rephrase, comes his response almost instantly. I can’t wait to come over there and make you beg for me again.

  A shiver traces the length of my body, and my stomach clenches in anticipation. Still, I force my feet to move, and stride forward, into the hotel, as I type out my reply. Then what are you waiting for? I answer, as the elevator doors glide open on my floor. You know where to come and find me.

  But I can’t help thinking, as I hit send on that response, that maybe Monica has a point. Maybe I should try to take things a little slower this time. After all, the last time I leapt in headfirst, I got burned. Badly. What if my judgement is just as bad this time around?

  But even just thinking that, I almost burst out laughing in response to the question. Of course this is bad judgement, I scold myself. You’re hooking up with a guy you called for a good time. A guy who uses fake names and daylights as a doctor.

  A guy who knew my body better than I did. Who did things in the bedroom that I’d never even dreamt of trying before.

  Okay, so maybe I’m in danger. But if this is what playing with fire feels like, then I’m willing to risk a few burns.

  7

  He certainly wasn’t lying about being impatient to see me again. Barely half an hour after I send that message, there’s a knock on my door, and one peek tells me it’s not room service this time.

  I fling the door open, already dressed strategically in the cutest nightgown I own. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard—especially after he ordered me to spend the day on bedrest. But it’s silk and clings in the right places and strikes just the right balance between casual and please fuck me now.

  At least, so I hope.

  To judge by the way his eyes graze over my body the second I open the door, I have to think it’s working. His mouth quirks into a broad smile. “I see you took my suggestion of bedrest seriously.”

  I push the door open wide, and back up to let him inside. “I see you decided to join me in bed after all.”

  He shuts the door behind him and tilts his head, watching me for a moment. “I did.” He raises his hand, and for the first time, I see what he’s carrying. My eyebrows shoot up. “Chinese takeout,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d been hoping to take you out on a proper first date, but you should be careful not to overexert yourself , so… This seemed the best bet. Chinese was the only takeout spot open between here and the hospital. If you don’t like it though, we can order something else.”

  As if in response, my stomach growls, and we both laugh. “Actually, I love Chinese,” I admit. “And hell, Netflix and eating is actually my idea of a perfect first date.” He grins at that, and I add, “Though to be honest, I’d eat pretty much anything that isn’t a bowl of ice cream right about now.”

  He raises an eyebrow, and I explain about my little nurse in training Becca, stuffing me full of sugar all day, as he sets the Chinese on the small table and bustles around the mini kitchen pulling out plates and silverware for both of us. Before he sits back down, he turns on my TV and flicks to Netflix. My favorite show, an embarrassing reality TV show about terrible first dates, pops up right on the previous screen. My face glows bright red, but he just grins at me.

  “I love this show.”

  “Nobody loves this show,” I argue, rolling my eyes. “We just watch it because we’re addicted. Like eating Chinese food because of all the MSG in it.”

  He snorts and drops onto the couch beside me and hits play. “Says who? Much like eating an entire container of Chinese food, this show is the perfect way to shut your brain off after a long day of dealing with patients.” He raises an arm, and I snuggle under it, leaning into his warmth.

  Damn. Not only is he hot as hell, and a doctor who shares my love of trashy reality shows, but he’s also a really fucking good cuddler. I rest my head on his shoulder as I reach for my dinner. “Is that what you say about us patients after work?” I tilt my head back to smirk at him. “You complain about what big pains in your ass we are?”

  “Sometimes.” He runs a hand through my hair, grinning. “Today though, weirdly, I didn’t get annoyed by my patient. In fact, I found myself thinking about her all day, wondering what she was doing, if she was taking my advice and taking care of herself.”

  I tilt my head back to catch his eye with a smile. “Are you admitting you were worried about me, Doc?”

  “Maybe a little.” He kisses my forehead, and I smile, relaxing against him. “Then again, I knew you had the best medical care available to treat you, so I was sure you were going to be fine.”

  I laugh and elbow him lightly. “Y’know, I always heard doctors were arrogant, but I’ve never actually seen it in action before.”

  “It’s not arrogance if it’s the truth,” he protests, reaching for his own Chinese food.

  We eat side by side, with my favorite cheesy show playing, snuggling. He really is a damn good snuggler, I have to admit. In between bouts of drama on the show, we talk about the rest of his day—nothing about the patients, of course, thanks to that whole oath doctors take about not sharing. But he has some funny stories about the nurse’s station, and some woman who tried to sneak her husband out of the ER so they could go to the football game next door, even though he’d been told he needed to stay for more observation.

  We’re both laughing by the end of that. “That’s dedication to a sport,” I say.

  “That’s dedication to her husband.” Jason grins. “I hope someday I have a wife that devoted, that she’s willing to disobey doctor’s orders and risk the wrath of the whole hospital to help me out.” Something in his expression shifts as he watches the TV in front of us—just a little upturn at the corners of his mouth that make it look like he’s suddenly daydreaming. “I always imagine that’s what marriage will be like, you know? A real partnership-in-crime, two against the world.”

  I set aside my takeout box, my stomach suddenly churning. “Yeah, well. Don’t we all think that, at first. In practice, though… it doesn’t always
turn out that way.”

  He glances at me, eyebrows lifted. “I take it you speak from experience?”

  I sigh and snuggle a little closer against his side. “Unfortunately, yes.” I expect him to change the subject. I’m used to guys not wanting to hear anything about my exes, preferring to think they’re the first person to ever get close to me. But when I turn to steal a glance at him, Jason is watching me with his brow furrowed, a serious expression on his face. Almost like he actually cares what I’m about to say.

  I’m not used to that.

  “Can I ask what happened? Only if you feel okay to talk about it, of course.”

  Weirdly, with him looking at me like this, and with his strong arm around me, holding me against his side, I do. “Actually, I only just signed the papers to finalize my divorce…” I check the clock next to us, realizing. “Oh god, yesterday afternoon, really. Wow, it seems like a lot more time has passed.” So much has happened in the last day—calling that number, spending last night with this man, waking up next to him to. I blush all over, remembering. Then I blush even worse remembering how I wound up in his hospital after that crazy accident.

  But he doesn’t seem freaked out by this admission. He just rubs my arm gently, comforting. “Well, you have had a little bit going on since then,” he points out, with just a hint of a smile sparking in his eyes.

  “That’s the understatement of the year.” I grin. “But it’s been good stuff.”

  His eyebrows lift again. “What, even the car accident?”

  I flush. “Okay, mostly good stuff.”

  He laughs.

  I relax back into him. “Looking back, it seems crazy. My ex and I only knew each other a few months before we got married, and none of my friends liked him. They all tried to convince me to wait, to take my time, not rush headlong into anything. But… I guess I was just impatient, and I felt like, he was there, and nice enough. Or, not horrible.” I laugh, weakly. “Then, of course, he winds up cheating on me and making me feel like a complete idiot, before we’re even married a year, so…”