Night Shifts with the Miami Doc

by Ann Mcintosh

  “That’s true,” she agreed, unable to stop herself from smiling with him.

  There was just something about his wry amusement that sucked her in every time.

  She opened the car door and got out. While his earlier courtesy of opening for her was nice, she didn’t want him to think he had to do it every time.

  He met her at the front of the vehicle and offered her his arm.

  Inside, the restaurant was to the right, and had just one table of patrons, while the bar, which ran the length of the left wall, was occupied by four older men, all huddled together at one end. The bartender smiled when he saw them.

  “Dr. Herrera. Good to see you.”

  “You, too, Keith. How’ve you been?”

  Obviously Mateo spent quite a bit of time here, Regina surmised, as the two men chatted casually for a minute.

  “What will you have tonight, ma’am?” Keith addressed Regina, hands poised over the bar, as though just waiting to conjure a drink from thin air.

  “A glass of chardonnay, please.”

  What she’d really have liked was a whiskey on the rocks, but she’d been careful to limit her liquor consumption.

  Mateo was enough of an intoxicant as it was.

  After Mateo opted for a craft beer, he took her elbow to lead her out through open French doors, across a flagstone-paved patio, and down two stairs to a concrete walkway that curved above the marina itself. The area was beautifully landscaped, and the view across Biscayne Bay was gorgeous.

  Regina leaned against the balustrade and took it all in.

  The lights of Miami gleaming on the water, and the fabulous yachts rocking gently in the foreground gave the scene an almost dream-like ambience. And she was supremely aware of Mateo beside her, too, the heat of his arm resting on the concrete near hers, the smell of his cologne, his movement as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

  She had to stop herself turning to watch him drink.

  “How lovely,” she said, trying not to fall too far under the spell of moonlight and Mateo, keeping her voice level.

  “It’s one of my favorite vistas,” he replied, his low tone seeming to vibrate between them, causing goose bumps to shiver along her spine. “Whenever I want to think, or just catch my breath, I come here.”

  “I can see why,” she said.

  But she was aware of his having turned his back to the view. Now he leaned against the balustrade, and from the corner of her eye she could see him looking at her.

  “I was thinking,” he said, which was a conversational gambit that rarely boded well. “I have a villa down in the Keys. Why don’t you come down with me one weekend? I have clinics on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I can take Friday and Monday off and make it a four-day weekend. That will fit in with your schedule, right?”

  “It would...”

  Now she realized what it was about Mateo that confused her and made her hesitate to give him an answer.

  Usually by now, she would have a pretty good idea of where things stood on a date—whether the man in question was interested in her, particularly if he wanted her physically. Mateo had been fun, interesting and a perfect gentleman. Once or twice she thought she’d caught a glint of something hot and fierce in his eyes, but it had never lingered long enough for her to be sure.

  It made it impossible to know exactly what he was asking her when he offered to take her to the Keys, and because he hadn’t made his intentions clear, she wasn’t ready with a reply.

  She was always ready with a reply, wasn’t she? Always on the ball, knowing ahead of time what to say, how and when to say it. Instead, she floundered a little, feeling silly.

  Then she pulled herself together. This waffling wasn’t her style, at all.

  Facing him fully, she said, “It sounds like fun, but I haven’t decided whether to sleep with you or not, so I can’t judge whether it’s a good idea.”

  His eyebrows rose, and for an instant, his eyes flashed. Then a slight smile tipped the edges of his lips.

  “I don’t see what the problem is. If you don’t decide to be intimate with me, we’ll still have a fun weekend.”

  Taken aback, she instinctively asked, “And if I do decide to?”

  His smile widened and his eyelids drooped, giving him a feral, dangerous air.

  “Then,” he said, his voice low and intense, “we’ll have an even better time.”

  Was it her imagination, or had he moved fractionally closer? Even if he hadn’t, her reaction was the same as it would have been if he’d fully invaded her space. Her heartbeat kicked into high gear, and her skin suddenly felt too tight—hot and tingly.

  The urge to turn away, to hide, was so strong it was all she could do to hold his gaze, which had once more turned bland, without even a hint of amusement.

  “By the way,” he asked. “How will you decide?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted, taking a sip of her wine and turning back to the view. Trying for insouciance, although she felt anything but indifferent. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  Mateo threw back his head and laughed, the sound of his unfettered amusement taking her already wicked desire for him even higher.

  She wished he would just take a hold of her, kiss her senseless the way she wanted him to, but she had already worked it out: he wasn’t going to push or demand. Unlike her prior experiences with men, this man was determined to, on at least this level, force her to make the decision on her own.

  No coercion.

  No coy hints or attempts to get her to agree.

  It was, for her, a novel situation.

  Not that she was a pushover, just going along if a man crooked his finger. Far from it. If she wasn’t interested, she had no problem saying so. But, looking back, she’d also never been the pursuer or the instigator—she was always too busy with her life and plans to expend the energy.

  Or maybe just not as interested as she’d thought she’d been at the time. Every intimate relationship she’d had seemed easy at the time. The man chased; Regina decided whether or not she wished to be caught.

  Now she was faced with a man who wasn’t planning to make it easy for her, and something about that lit a fire in her belly.

  Which was both arousing and scary at the same time.

  “Well, let me know when you decide, both about the trip and about me,” he said, the laughter in his tone still apparent. “Your next weekend off would be good, but I need to let them know by Monday if I’m taking those days off.”

  “I’ll let you know by then,” she replied, keeping her voice firm. Businesslike. But she already knew what she was about to do when she put down her glass on the ledge and turned to him. He was watching her, and she didn’t allow herself to hesitate. She stepped close, as she had when they danced, but then closer still.

  And kissed him.

  Not just a peck, or a light brush of her lips. Regina, having decided on a course of action, never went with half measures. Nope. She went in hot, letting her intentions be known.

  But although she instigated it, cupping his face and taking the kiss straight to erotic, Mateo didn’t hesitate, either. In a blink he took over, one hand tunneling into the hair at her nape to angle her mouth into the perfect position. The other hand settled, hot and firm, on the small of her back, pulling her flush against his body.

  She’d thought of it as an exploratory foray, a way to discover whether her interest in him was worth pursuing. In the past it had always been easy to separate her brain from whatever physical pleasure her body was experiencing. It was, she thought, a part of her nature—detachment was her stock-in-trade, and it had served her well over the years.

  Being able to maintain critical thinking at all times was of paramount importance. It was what made her good at protecting herself from distractions, and great at her job.

  Yet, in
Mateo’s arms, with his lips on hers, detachment deserted her before she even realized it was happening.

  Sensation after sensation fired through her system, until she was a quaking column of need. His body, hard and hot, against hers. His lips, firm and masterful, not coaxing but demanding response. The sound of their breath, rushing, rushing from lungs laboring to take in enough.

  Her head was swimming, and a moan rose in her throat.

  That was when she pulled back, and was both relieved and bereft when Mateo let her go immediately.

  Forcing herself to turn away, to modulate her breathing, to act as though the ground hadn’t rocked beneath her feet, Regina reached for her wineglass. Only as she was lifting it did she realize her hand was shaking.

  One more thing to try to get under control.

  Putting the glass to her lips, she sipped, but not even the crisp tartness could erase the taste of Mateo from her consciousness.

  She scrambled for something to say that would break the unbearable tension tightening her muscles and turning her legs to jelly. A witty remark. An off-the-cuff joke. But her brain was too busy reliving the kiss to spare her the time.

  But there was no way she’d reveal to him just how shaken up she was from their brief, explosive embrace. So, gathering every ounce of the containment she was known for, she gave him a cool smile.

  “I’ll let you know about the trip to the Keys,” she said, inordinately proud that she was able to keep her voice level. “By Monday.”

  “Okay,” he replied, before picking up his beer bottle from beside him. Regina hadn’t even realized he’d put it down, but the memory of his hands on her told her he must have. “Ready to go?”

  He didn’t sound as though he cared one way or another. Not just as though he didn’t want to kiss her again, but as if the kiss hadn’t even happened. And here she was, struggling not to turn back into his arms and do it all over again.

  “Sure.” Hopefully, she matched his indifference.

  And she made certain to pull herself together enough to make light conversation on the way back to her place, although every nerve ending in her body was still vibrating.

  She got out of the car as soon as he pulled up outside her building, and he walked with her to the door.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he said, causing her to search his expression, which turned out to be unhelpfully neutral.

  “Thank you, too.” Fishing her keys out of her purse gave her something other than him to concentrate on, and she stiffened when his hand touched her shoulder, and his lips brushed her cheek.

  “Good night.” His breath was warm against her cheek, and Regina steeled herself not to turn her face and put her lips against his again.

  “Good night.”

  It came out a little breathless, and she stepped away, annoyed, and used her pass card to open the outside door, then walked through without giving him another look.

  When she got into the elevator and turned around, he was standing at his open car door, watching her, and even through the glass his gaze caused heat to flare across her chest and back.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MATEO STOOD WAITING for the elevator to go down to the fourth floor the following Thursday, impatiently tapping his toes.

  He really shouldn’t be this eager to go and see one of his dialysis patients, who’d fallen and been admitted to the hospital, but Rex Knowles was under Regina’s care. Mateo hated to admit it, but at this point he was almost desperate for even one glance of the delectable internist.

  She’d texted him on Monday, as she said she would, and was as to the point as ever.

  I don’t think the Keys is going to happen. Thanks for the offer, though.

  He’d considered that message for a long time before replying. There were certain responses he was sure would lead to more trouble than they were worth. Asking why was one. Trying to cajole her in some way was another.

  He wasn’t sure how he was so sure of those things, but he was. So he took his time thinking it through, before sending her a message.

  Offer still stands.

  And then he’d taken the two days off anyway.

  The way he looked at it was, he had at least a week to try to get her to agree to go to his house on Islamorada, and he was going to give it his best shot.

  After the kiss they’d shared, he’d be a damn fool not to.

  It had almost blown the top of his head off.

  He’d never experienced anything like it, and the memory had haunted him every moment of every day since it happened.

  The excitement of having her in his arms, the way her soft, curvy body fitted against his and how it trembled kept him awake at night, tossing and turning, as his brain fed him reminders of her scent and taste.

  When she’d pulled back, it was all he could do not to drag her close again, to keep kissing her, touching her, searching out the intimate places to make her as wild as he’d felt.

  But then she turned away, cool as a cucumber, and he’d thought she’d been unfazed by their encounter, until he’d seen her fingers tremble. Then he’d known she’d felt it, too.

  Of course, how she mentally reacted to the desire crackling between them was another thing altogether, and he didn’t think her the type to share her personal thoughts and feelings easily. Getting her to open up about what was happening, or not happening, between them wouldn’t be simple. She definitely struck him as a woman who could keep her own counsel.

  But if he could get her to discuss the situation, maybe they could have some fun together.

  The elevator came, and he stepped in, nodding to the occupants but still lost in his thoughts.

  Truth was, Mateo wasn’t in the market for a relationship. It didn’t feel like the right time for him, although his familial responsibilities had diminished markedly. Even if Regina had relocated to Miami full-time, he couldn’t see himself getting involved on any kind of deeper level than the purely physical.

  He’d put a lot of his ambitions and plans on hold when his parents died, and was only now in a place where he could start contemplating dusting off and reigniting his goals. While he loved his current job, and hadn’t come to a firm decision on whether to move on to something else, it was important to him to have enough space and time to think. In his estimation, getting into a relationship would just be a distraction.

  But that didn’t preclude a fun, sexy romp with Regina.

  If he could just get her to agree.

  Getting off on the fourth floor, he spotted the subject of his ruminations at the nurses’ station and, ignoring his body’s instinctive excited reaction, walked that way.

  She looked up and snared him with those lioness eyes. No smile, just a nod in his direction.

  “Ah, Dr. Herrera. Your patient, Rexford Knowles, was brought in after falling at home. I need some further information from you.”

  Just as he expected, she was as cool as cool could be, as though the kiss they’d shared had been erased from her memory. But although that stung, he had to put it all aside.

  “He’s due in next Tuesday for dialysis,” Mateo noted. “What happened?”

  Rex Knowles’s polycystic kidney disease was at the point where only dialysis was keeping him alive. His wife of almost forty years was looking after him at home with the help of their grown children, but Mateo knew how hard it must be.

  “He hasn’t been able to tell us exactly how he fell. His daughter stopped by to make him lunch and found him. He was awake but confused, and bleeding from a head wound, so she brought him in. When the ER staff pulled his record, they decided to admit him. My main concern now is for his mental state.”

  She started walking down the corridor, beckoning Mateo to come along.

  “The scalp laceration is over the occipital bone, but there’s no apparent fracture of the skull,” she continued.
“But I saw in your notes that he’s been suffering some memory issues recently, and would appreciate you evaluating him. Scans haven’t revealed any bleeding or swelling in the brain, but I’m worried about concussion. And with his current polypharmacy, we have to be extra careful.”

  “His wife was the one who mentioned the memory loss, and I had him evaluated for early-onset dementia, which was ruled out. I suspect it’s a direct result of his disease, and the corresponding need for frequent dialysis. He’s on the transplant list, but so far, we haven’t had any luck finding a match. His wife and all four of his children were tested, but discounted.”

  She made a little sound, just a soft click of her tongue, which he interpreted as sympathy.

  “He hasn’t had an episode like this before, has he?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, and his wife comes to his appointments to make sure he’s telling me everything that’s going on. We might need to adjust his blood pressure medication, and I’ll do some further testing to see if he’s suffering any physical impairment.”

  She paused at one of the doors and faced him squarely.

  “I hope you find him a donor, quickly. Is he on the living donor list, too?”

  “Yes. And I know, his condition has been deteriorating far too rapidly for my liking.”

  She glanced down at the tablet in her hand and scrolled back through the record displayed there. “He’s checked regularly for hepatic cysts?”

  “Of course. And I’d like copies of the brain scans sent to me, directly. It’s just about the time when he’s due for an aneurysm check, too.”

  She nodded, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead, and then, in a blink, it was gone, and she opened the door.

  “Come on,” she said, rather abruptly.

  And she was through the door and in the room before he could even reach for the handle, leaving him with the sense of having been somehow thoroughly dismissed.

  * * *

  There.