The Dashing Doc Next Door

by Helen R. Myers

  The pensive question yanked Brooke’s attention back to her aunt. Not only did Brooke not like that Aunt Marsha was sounding so anxious, this was the third time she was having to reassure her.

  “There’ll be no need,” she replied, crossing the room to lower the blinds and pull the curtains shut before returning to her aunt. “I told you, I’ll be here waiting.”

  “Oh, that’s way too long for you, and what if it’s busy at the shop?”

  It didn’t matter if Brooke was eighteen or thirty, she was still a child in her aunt’s eyes, ever in need of older and wiser direction. But in such a gentler way than her father. “I’ll go in early to check the computer and phones,” she replied patiently, “and take care of whatever is necessary. Naomi is going to fill in while I’m here. Later, when you’re in recovery, I’ll go back to the store, and return here after we close to see if you’re awake yet and ready to be moved to a room again.”

  “I feel like I’m causing you all too much trouble.”

  Brooke sat on the edge of the bed and took her aunt’s hand in both of hers. “Not in the least. I have to lay down the law to get any time with you at all. The phone rings if I’m at the house, the store... People want to help. You’d blush if you knew how concerned and kind everyone is being.”

  It was the truth. Every day someone came by for an update on Marsha, or to offer to sit with Brooke during the surgery, to help clean the house, or to cook once Marsha returned home. There were plenty more messages left daily on the answering machine at the house. She’d never experienced anything like that in the city. You were definitely surrounded by more people there; however, unless your house caught fire, or you called 911 for another emergency, people tended to leave each other alone. Of course, most of them were professionals and focused on careers, or had families involved in lots of activities, she thought wryly. She only knew one set of neighbors well enough to converse with beyond “Good morning” or “How are you?”

  “I’m so blessed,” Marsha said, squeezing Brooke’s hands. “Pastor Wilson came by just before you arrived. He’ll stop by tomorrow, too.”

  “See? You have the power hitters in your corner. What more could you ask for?” Leaning over, Brooke kissed her aunt good-night. “Now you really have to settle down and get some shut-eye, dear. I don’t know that they’ll want to give you anything to help you what with having to use anesthesia tomorrow.”

  “Then I’m going to be watching TV all night. You can’t sleep in these places otherwise. There’s something going on all the time, and if you do doze off, they come in to check your numbers again, or to take blood, or give you a pill.” Marsha paused, her thoughts drifting elsewhere. “You said Gage and Humphrey are waiting for you outside, didn’t you? Go! Get something to eat—I think you lost weight since I last saw you. You don’t want to end up scrawny like me.”

  “You’re as beautiful as ever, Aunt Marsha, you’re just not feeling well enough to eat.”

  “It would be nice to crave a cheeseburger again. Give my boy a good snuggle for me, will you?”

  Brooke kissed her again. “I will, dear. I love you.”

  * * *

  When Brooke climbed into Gage’s truck, Humphrey—sitting on the backseat— wagged his tail in welcome and woofed softly. She leaned back there and rubbed his neck and scratched his ears.

  “Yes, you did good, you ham. To hear Aunt Marsha tell it, she thinks you’re ready for a Hollywood agent.”

  As she turned forward and pulled on her seat belt, she said to Gage. “She thought you were pretty terrific, too.”

  Although he looked pleased, he scoffed, “I doubt she even noticed me. I saw who she was getting all excited over.”

  “I told her this was your idea.” Brooke reached over to stroke his arm. “Thank you for that—and for us using your truck.”

  “My pleasure. How’s she doing otherwise?”

  “Trying to put on a good show, too. But she’s so anxious, her mind is skipping all over the place. So if she gave me instructions on Humph, or the store, or feeding you once, she repeated herself three times over. I’m as ready for this to be behind her as she is. This behavior is so unlike her.”

  Gage stroked her hair, free and flowing straight down her back tonight. “Stress will do that to people, especially older people.”

  “I know. This side of my brain grasps that very well,” she said pointing to her left temple. Then she pointed to her right side. “This part of me wants to catch the next flight to... I don’t know where, and pretend none of this is happening.”

  “Never mind that flying business.” Gage contorted to open his arms, careful to avoid bumping her or the windows. “Here’s all the island fun you can handle.”

  As Humphrey barked, clearly thinking this was the start of a new game, Brooke laughed softly, grateful for Gage’s willingness to be silly in order to lighten the moment. “That is tempting. Does this offer include lounge-chair drink service?”

  He narrowed his eyes as though flipping through memory files. “Do you remember where we put your liquor inventory?”

  “In the pantry. Thank you for reminding me that I need to relocate it somewhere else before Aunt Marsha gets home. She’s no teetotaler, but if some of her friends come to visit or help, I wouldn’t want to put her in the position to be embarrassed.”

  Gage nodded his agreement and added, “I seem to recall packing tequila. I can have you a margarita made before you can kick off your shoes and feed the pooch.”

  “Seriously, let’s save that for the recovery celebration,” Brooke replied. “I would like to have a clear head tomorrow. I’ll join you if you have the Chivas, though.”

  Minutes later, Gage drove into her aunt’s driveway and parked. He lifted the basset hound out of the back and set him on the driveway, where Humphrey trotted, tail wagging, leading the way to the back gate. Walking beside Gage, Brooke felt as though they were a married couple returning home for the day. Amazing for someone she’d known such a short time—and how sweet this taste of domesticity was.

  As though sharing the same thoughts, Gage said, “If I don’t have any late calls tomorrow, I’m going to mow both of our lawns.”

  Their yards were getting a bit overgrown compared to their neighbors’, but for good reason. Since their return from Dallas on Monday, Gage had been nonstop busy as well, and their contact had been mostly hit-and-miss, or at best brief catch-up calls.

  “Are you sure? I was going to look through Aunt Marsha’s telephone book to see who she used before you began helping her so much.”

  “Never mind him. He’s the other reason that I started doing Marsha’s yard when I did mine. If things don’t level off, we’ll discuss options.”

  Once inside, they went in opposite directions to wash up and get comfortable. As Brooke removed her heels and hung her rosemary-green linen jacket by the stairs, she smiled, replaying Gage’s comments. She’d never liked the way Parker had always thought he knew best and tried to direct their every decision, even though he was usually repeating someone else’s advice—as Andi had pointed out. On the other hand, Gage said “we” not “I.” They hadn’t even been intimate yet; nevertheless, she felt as though they had been. She felt as though she could trust him with anything.

  Well, she amended, not completely intimate, she mused as her thoughts went back to last night in those few minutes before Gage had received a call and been forced to rush off on an emergency. She’d been left weak-kneed and yearning for more of his talented touch.

  The memory of those minutes, and his kisses, left her feverish, and she brushed her hands over her matching slacks and silk eggplant-colored top as she returned to the kitchen. Seeing Gage was making their drinks, she checked the answering machine on the kitchen bar. Two calls left no messages and were only identified as “local” on the screen, while the other two were peop
le from the church asking about Aunt Martha.

  “I’ll hold off on answering those until after the surgery tomorrow,” Brooke said, for her own benefit as much as Gage’s.

  “I’m all for that,” he replied. The intimate look he sent her way spoke of his own desire for some alone time with her.

  With a whimper, Humphrey gave up sitting expectantly by his food bowl and slumped down on to his belly.

  “Yes, sir, I’m on it right now,” Brooke assured him.

  Once she had the pooch fed, Gage had their drinks on the kitchen table. “Or do you want to go sit on the porch?” he asked.

  “Here’s good,” she told him. “It’s cooler, and Humph won’t rush in his eagerness to join us.”

  “Listen to you,” Gage teased, as they sat down. “Aren’t you turning into a real animal person, concerned that he’ll get indigestion?”

  “You’re such a good teacher, I’d be pitiful if some of your experience and advice didn’t rub off on me.” She leaned toward him to touch her cut-crystal glass to his. “Thank you yet again.”

  “My pleasure,” he murmured, his blue-gray eyes tender. “You’re starting to act like a natural, you know.”

  “Oh, you are a sweet fibber. The idea of dealing with cat litter on a daily basis, let alone attempting any of the number of things you’ve told me about doing on calls, is science fiction to me.”

  “But you’d easily change baby diapers, wouldn’t you?”

  “This is not a subject I want to deal with sitting at the table.”

  “The key is to focus on the satisfaction you get in making things better, especially if you’re saving a life.”

  “I’ll settle for singing your praises.” After taking a grateful sip, she swept her hair over one shoulder and sighed as she rolled her head to ease out the kinks. “I am so grateful the waiting is over.” Then she grimaced. “We should have stopped at a drive-through somewhere and gotten you something to eat.”

  “Me? What about you?”

  “I split a sub sandwich with Kiki for lunch, and I swear it’s still lying like unbaked dough in my stomach.” She started to rise. “Let me check the fridge. I forgot that Naomi sent lasagna over yesterday. Aunt Marsha says she makes the best—”

  Before she could pass him, Gage slid his arm around her waist and drew her backward, onto his lap. Slipping his hand under her hair, he directed her nearer, until his mouth could close over hers. Their lips and tongues tasted cool from the ice in their drinks, but they soon grew warm as they yielded to deeper appetites.

  “There’s hungry, and then there’s hungry,” he said, when he finally took time to catch his breath. “That couldn’t wait. I want to taste the skin along your neck...and other places,” he added, his gaze drifting down over her breasts. “But I didn’t have time to shave before we headed for the hospital.”

  “I appreciate the care, considering that I’ll be spending some time visiting with Aunt Marsha’s minister tomorrow, and who knows who else?” Brooke brushed his jaw with the backs of her fingers, then slid them down the taut tendons of his throat to the V-neck of his white T-shirt. He’d shed his maroon clinic jacket back at his house. “This reminds me... I thought about you today,” she added, playing with the soft hair curling there.

  Looking as pleased as he was intrigued, Gage smiled. “I’m all ears.”

  “The UPS man came in with a delivery today, and the top two buttons of his shirt were open—no doubt due to this growing heat. He looked like he had a nice chest, too.”

  “That’s not even remotely amusing,” Gage muttered.

  “Be patient. It’s coming.” She touched her index finger to his lips. “I thought, as attractive as he was—and Kiki was very impressed—he didn’t hold a candle to you.”

  With a soft growl, Gage nipped at her finger, then kissed the tip of her nose and chin. “Better. You didn’t imagine kissing him, did you?”

  “No!”

  “It would be like cheating, wouldn’t it?” Gage tightened his arms, bringing her closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest and they were sharing the same breath. “That’s how I feel. I don’t want to spend a minute with another woman, only you.”

  Although old habits were hard to break and Brooke’s initial instinct was to remind him that he was all but asking for a commitment she couldn’t yet give, she realized she could still be honest. “I feel the same way.”

  Focusing on her lips, he rasped, “One more kiss and then I’m going to finish this drink and get outside and mow after all.”

  “Gage, it’s a steam bath out there, and it’ll be dark in an hour.”

  “That’s all I need.”

  When he took slow possession of her mouth, Brooke felt it all the way down to her womb. Then he took her head in his hands and showed her that she’d experienced nothing about desire and sensuality until now. That made it impossible to keep her own hands still. When hunger coiled more tightly inside her, she shifted on his lap, triggering a groan from him, and suddenly they were both standing upright, and he was pacing, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Sorry,” she offered softly. “I got carried away.”

  “Believe me, it’s my fault.” After a deep breath, he reached for his drink and downed it in two swallows. Then his gaze slid to her mouth and he winced. “Sweetheart... Crap.”

  Aware of what he was seeing, since her lips were stinging, she took an ice cube from his glass and started rubbing it over her lips. “It’ll be okay in a minute.”

  “Yeah, right. You’ll be lucky if it’s better by morning.” He looked thoroughly disgusted with himself, only to stop and say quietly, tenderly, “I want you, Brooke. You blind me to everything else. You’re staking claim to every corner of my head.”

  “You must have downed your drink too fast.” Bemused, Brooke warned, “I don’t think you’re ready to get on any monster mower.”

  Ignoring that, Gage headed for the door. “Take Humph out one more time and then get him inside, and open the back gates for me. You’ll save me time in having to get on and off the machine.”

  His frown of concentration and brusque directives were almost amusing. “Aye, aye, Captain. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, cut me a strip of that lasagna and put the package on the back end of your car. I’ll grab it as I lock up for you. I can nuke it at my place.”

  Now she was convinced that he was serious. “You can’t come in here and eat it afterward?” she asked, incredulous.

  “No, angel, I can’t. I’ll be sweaty and dirty, and once I shower and get all good-looking and irresistible—” a twinkle of humor lit his eyes “—you won’t be able to keep from throwing yourself at me. I’m only human. Besides, a deal is a deal, remember?”

  The man was a sweetheart and gentleman—along with being a bigger ham than Humphrey. “I remember.” As the corners of her lips twitched from the urge to laugh, and her eyes flooded with tears of mirth and adoration, she admitted, “I can’t tell you how you make me feel.”

  “Your ears aren’t old enough to hear how I feel,” he muttered.

  * * *

  When Gage let himself into the back gate of Marsha’s property at five o’clock the next morning, it was still dark. He came around the tall camellia bushes along the winding sidewalk, only to end up face-to-face with Brooke, who suppressed a scream down to a squeak, as she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Coming to get Humph. I wanted to get to the clinic for as early a start as possible. I figured you might be thinking the same way, so you can get to the hospital...where I intend to be, hopefully, when Marsha gets wheeled into recovery.”

  He saw no reason to add that he’d tossed and turned all night, mostly because of her, since he doubted she’d done better herself—p
robably for different reasons, though, namely worry over her aunt. But he was determined to make the start of her day as positive as possible, which is why he’d used soaps and aftershaves from a reservoir gift drawer of things he never used to hide any hint of antiseptics or animals that might be lingering on his clinic attire. It must have worked because he was suddenly engulfed in a sweetly intense hug.

  “You are...incomparable.”

  She kissed him repeatedly, and he let her, since he’d shaved with a new blade this morning, too. Fighting a surge of renewed hunger, he replied gruffly, “Call me with reports...even if it’s about you being frustrated that there are no updates.”

  Back on her own two feet, Brooke was once again Princess Perfection as she smoothed her hands over her coral sheath topped by a matching blazer. “I’m not going to bother you like that.”

  “If I’m not there or tied up with a patient, leave a message with Roy. I guarantee you that he and the guys will be hovering over the phone like vultures today. Everyone is thinking about Marsha, and you.”

  Brooke touched his chest. “That’s so dear. Tell them thanks, will you?” She stooped to rub Humphrey, who sat watching their conversation, his tail wagging. “Be a good boy, okay? It’s extra important today.”

  * * *

  It turned out that Roy beat Gage to the clinic. The older man was busy mopping the front floor and—given his scowl and the fact that the floors weren’t part of his job—Gage immediately suspected something had happened.

  “What’s going on? Isn’t Vince Jenson coming this week?”

  Roy leaned on his mop and for a moment looked as if he was about to get physically ill. “With all that’s going on, I didn’t want to trouble you yet, Doc.”

  No good news ever followed such an opening statement, and Gage ushered Humphrey to the examination area to get him off the wet floors and shut the doors before he returned to Roy. “Consider me troubled. What’s up with Vince?”

  Looking as if he’d rather be enduring root-canal work without any Novocain, Roy said, “He’s been helping himself to inventory.”