Playing Doctor (2 page)

Shaking her head at her friend’s outrageousness, Beth blotted her mouth with her napkin and pushed back from the table. “Okay, that’s it. You have definitely been watching more than your share of romantic—and I use that term loosely—movies, and as delightfully entertaining as this meal has been, I have a meeting with the architect this morning to go over the blueprints for the ER expansion and need to get a move on.” Beth made her way through the maze of tables and out to the cash register, Connie trailing along behind her. “Lick-o-licious,” she muttered, handing her debit card to the cashier. “That isn’t even a real word.”

“Sure it is.” Connie stopped to admire the five-pound Hershey’s chocolate bar on display. “I can even use it in a sentence: That candy bar looks absolutely
lick-o-licious.”

“I stand corrected.” Beth hooked her arm through Connie’s and led her out to the sun-washed parking lot. “Tell you what. If I see anything this weekend even remotely resembling lick-o-licious, I’ll buy you that candy bar.”

“Deal. And if you can snag one of Drew’s cameras, photographs would be appreciated as well.” Connie unlocked her car door and studied Beth over the top. “If a person
were
to think about having a weekend fling to work out a few kinks—and please feel free to interpret that in any way you choose—this would be her golden opportunity. An out-of-town weekend, a hotel suite all to herself, unleashing the inner vixen and playing out her fantasies with a hot guy she can walk away from the next morning…” She flicked her hand toward Beth’s car. “You know I’d give my ex-husband’s balls for a car like that, but I’m just saying it might be nice to get your hands on some muscle that doesn’t come with four tires, a three-hundred and fifty horse power engine, and a four-speed transmission sometime before menopause hits and your vagina stops working.”

“Yeah,
if
a person were so inclined,” Laughing, Beth opened the door of her 1969 Chevelle SS, tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, and slid behind the wheel. While Connie’s comment struck a tender nerve, their friendship was too old, too solid for Beth to take offense at the nudge to get on with her personal life. “But you know what?
I
control the power behind this muscle, every cubic inch of it.” She clicked her seatbelt in place and grinned at Connie through the window. “And my vagina is just fine, thank you.”

Beth backed her car out of the parking spot and waved at Connie as she drove away, aware that her friend’s concerned frown followed her as she pulled out of the parking lot. At the traffic light, she reached for her iPod, plugged it into the auxiliary jack in the stereo, scrolled down the playlist, and chose her favorite song. The car’s interior filled with the slow, sexy throb of Jace Everett’s,
Damned If I Do
. His low, gritty voice wrapped her in a sensual cocoon as he crooned of being damned for wanting his lover. A deep yearning coiled in Beth’s chest. How would it feel to have a man want you so badly that he’d walk the streets thinking of you, crying into the night,
I want you
? Loneliness welled up and caught her heart in a vice.

As the song played on, Beth tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music and stared out the windshield at the car in front of her. Could she lower her defenses long enough to indulge just once? Shrug off her insecurities and enjoy a man’s company, his touch, his body pressing into hers as he professed his need for her, for just one night?

The driver behind her blasted his horn, startling her out of her blue funk. She shot the car into gear, eased off the clutch, and turned into the early morning traffic. Thoughts of romance and one-night stands faded with the last notes of the song, and Beth channeled her thoughts to the day ahead, while a little voice taunted,
what if…?

There’s a code in the bride’s chamber: what’s said there, stays there.

While the hairdresser worked on the bride’s hair, her entourage lounged in the sitting area of the spacious bedroom suite, sipping champagne and gossiping. The hot topic of the moment was one Dr. Gabriel North. Although she wasn’t actively listening to the conversation, a snippet here and a comment there managed to catch her ear as she moved about the room assisting Drew while he took pre-wedding shots. They certainly seemed to know quite a bit about the good doctor.

“…gave up a thriving practice as a pulmonologist after his wife died. Works in the ER now…”

“…blamed himself for Rita’s death.”

“What is a pulmonary embolus, anyway?”

“…no social life to speak of, except for his family and friends…”

“Isn’t he one of the groomsmen?”

“…so handsome, and did you see that gorgeous hair?” A collective sigh trailed this comment.

The hairdresser grinned at Beth as she wove a string of antique pearls through the bride’s upsweep. “I have to agree with them because between you and me, from the way the doc fills out his tux”—she made the
oooo
face—“I’m betting that gorgeous head of hair and cleft chin comes along with a rocking hot body. One I wouldn’t mind getting
my
hands on as well.”

Unsure of how to respond—she was feeling a touch of sympathy as well as a smidgen of curiosity about the doctor herself—Beth simply smiled and handed the hairdresser another pin.

After a final shot that captured the sister of the bride tenderly fingering the pearls in the bride’s hair, Drew motioned for Beth to follow him out of the room. As Beth headed to the door, one of the bridesmaids stood and smoothed out the skirt of her silver, curve-hugging gown.

“Well, the female population of Lexington is being sorely deprived of a prime example of the male species, and I think it’s high time someone set Gabe on the return path to the land of the living.” She made her way across the room, checked the fit of her gown in a trio of cheval mirrors, and then pouted at her reflection. “And if I wasn’t madly in love with my main man, I’d be tempted to hand him the map myself.”

Murmurs of agreement floated around the room, which incited another discussion on the best way to bring Dr. North to the dark side.

The redhead’s comments reminded Beth of Connie’s parting remarks at Cracker Barrel suggesting that she get on with her own personal life.
Friends. What would we do without them?

“Mom?” Drew’s gentle prod turned Beth’s focus back to the present and with one last glance around the room to ensure no equipment was left behind, she followed him out of the suite.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of activity. More often than not, Beth had to jog to keep up with Drew as he dashed from one place to another in order to capture a unique shot. Her toes throbbed, a testament that a great-looking pair of shoes did not guarantee long-lasting comfort no matter the advertising on the box.

Now, with the wedding over and the reception in full swing, Beth’s current mission was to locate the bride and her maids and usher them to the next area for photos while Drew finished a long line of family shots. Several times now Beth had observed yet another wedding guest approach him, chat for a moment, and then take his business card. Her pride in him overrode the ache in her feet each time she watched him smile and shake hands with a prospective client.

Heading toward a large flowing hedge for some shade and a chance to catch her breath, Beth took a moment to scan the sea of guests milling around the reception area. Adjusting the camera strap draped over her shoulder, she panned the area for Drew.

A burst of raucous laughter drew her attention to a group of men standing a little off from the crowd. With a grin that split his handsome face from ear to ear, the groom stood within a circle of men, the recipient of a round of good-natured back thumping. Odds were he was getting pointers on how to conduct his wedding night. A grin tugged at Beth’s lips. Maybe she should send the groom to the women from the bride’s chambers for a few ideas as well because if he managed half of the dirty things they’d dreamed up for the doctor, his bride would be one happy woman.

Beth thought back to her own wedding day as she watched the groom swipe his hand over his dark hair and laugh at something one of the men said. Shortly after exchanging their vows, she and Jamie had ducked into the coat closet at the church, of all places, for a quickie. Oh, how smug they’d been, so young and eager for each other, sure they’d managed to sneak away from the wedding party without being seen. And how embarrassed she’d been when they stepped out of the closet to the thundering applause of their groomsmen and bridesmaids.

If only they had been able to hold on to that feeling…

One of the men stepped away from the group and pulled a cell phone from the inside of his tux jacket. He studied the screen, gave it a flick of his thumb, and then stuck it to his ear, his other hand braced on his hip. The infamous Dr. Gabriel North.

She’d seen him earlier when Drew took pre-wedding shots, then again during the wedding ceremony. She’d thought him handsome, standing under the flower-covered arbor beside the best man. His expression had been solemn, his attention on the bride and groom as they exchanged vows.

She had to give the bridal chamber gals credit—he really did have great hair. Pulled back and secured at the crown of his head, the lower half of his golden brown hair was free to brush broad, Armani-clad shoulders. And yep, he did a
fine
job filling out that tux. She was still admiring the view when Drew came loping up, his smoky-gray eyes gleaming with excitement.

Beth sighed at the familiar tug to her insides. When had her little boy turned into this tall, handsome young man standing before her? She reached up, tenderly touched a cheek rough with stubble that, not long ago, would have been smudged with dirt. He hooked a beefy arm over her shoulders and squeezed.

The tinkle of feminine laughter floated through the hedge. Grinning, Drew reached past her and parted the foliage to reveal the bride and her maids sitting on a pair of white wicker benches beneath a huge tree bursting with fragrant white blooms. Sunlight filtered through the blossoms, catching the sequin-and-pearl trim on the bride’s gown and casting a magical glow to the scene.

Stepping around the hedge, Drew lifted his camera and captured the shot. “I’ve got this,” he called over his shoulder, “Why don’t you take five?”

Shooting him an appreciative thumbs-up, Beth shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her feet begged for a break, and sitting down out of the sun for a moment sounded heavenly. She glanced around. A tent-covered sitting area beckoned a short distance away. She stepped toward the shade, and then slowed on an intake of breath. Prickles of awareness shimmered up her spine. She looked over her shoulder, straight into the sharp, assessing gaze of Dr. North.

He stood with his legs braced, his black tux jacket open and held back by hands casually tucked in his trouser pockets. The collar of his pearl gray shirt lay open, baring the strong column of his throat, his black bowtie hanging loosely to the side.

Something lazily seductive in the way he looked at her sent her pulse skittering alarmingly. Those dark, compelling eyes took their time, lingering here, pausing there, leaving in their wake the warm sensation of a lover’s caress. Then he smiled. A slow,
tell me what you need and I’ll make damn sure you get it
smile that punched her pulse a little higher.

The groom called out and motioned Dr. North back into the flock. When he looked away, and stepped back into the circle of Y-chromosomes, Beth had to remind herself to breathe.

Oh, yeah, he’d been hot before, but now, seeing him up close, with all that intensity focused solely on her…

Oh, mama!
Every tiny cell in her bloodstream sprang to attention, doing the happy dance and pointing excited little fingers in his direction. Deep, sensual urges that had lain dormant for so long broke free of their slumber and demanded his attention.

Beth wobbled on her heels, tugged on the hem of her jacket, then wobbled again, the ache in her toes long forgotten as she contemplated that look, that smile, and more importantly, her reaction to them.

Damn. Lick-o-licious indeed!

Chapter Two

Gabe hooked his thumbs in his pants pockets and looked out over the guests. He enjoyed weddings—the public proclamation of love, the festive atmosphere, great food and good music… Well, the music could go either way. Fortunately, the local band hired for the wedding reception was doing a surprisingly good cover of The Beatles’
Twist and Shout
. Several of the wedding guests were enthusiastically shaking it up, especially the groom’s uncle, Albert Montgomery.

A week ago, Albert presented to the ER during Gabe’s shift with a complaint of reoccurring chest pain. Gabe did a cardiac workup on him and admitted him for an overnight stay in the hospital for observation, with a cardiac stress test scheduled the following day. The next morning, Albert signed himself out against medical advice prior to having the test. Now he was doing his damnedest to impress his considerably younger girlfriend, and at fifty-nine and being moderately overweight, Albert was having a hell of a time doing it. A sad day, Gabe decided, when you found yourself paying less attention to the enticing gyrations of the blonde and more to the extremely diaphoretic, scarlet-faced idiot with her.

He watched Albert grunt and flail to the music. Although it had been a while since he’d done the Twist, Gabe didn’t recall the rather odd move with the left arm and shoulder as being a part of the dance.

Shit
.

Gabe had learned the hard way what overlooking even the most subtle signs and symptoms could cost you. How by the time you stepped away from taking care of someone else’s loved one and realized what was going on with your own, it was too late. So he believed in being prepared, and the medical bag he kept stowed in the back of his CR-V was what he liked to call
Standard Plus
—the plus being anything else he could stuff into it that he might need.

He made a mental calculation of the distance between the reception area and his car, which he had parked at the house, and considered going to get it just in case, then decided against it. He could get there and back in less than two minutes if necessary. While he wasn’t particularly superstitious, there was no point in jinxing things by bringing it out now.