NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile

by Lynne Marshall

  For whatever reason, Polly had the right combination of charm and good looks to make his body involuntarily take notice. The thought was wrong on so many levels yet he couldn’t give it up. She worked for him, for crying out loud, and what about Lisa? Well, that was a whole other matter.

  Maybe having a piece of pizza with the new nurse and having his little fantasy of making love to her might add some long-overdue entertainment. That wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend an evening, would it? Compared to his usual Friday nights, a tasty slice of pie and a few naughty daydreams about the new nurse would be a welcomed change.

  “You’d actually bring me a couple of slices of pizza, no strings attached?” He could think of a couple of strings he’d like to attach to a place or two on Polly, but that would be wrong on so many levels.

  “Sure.”

  “You’re too nice for your own damn good, Pollyanna.”

  “What goes around comes around, right?”

  “That’s only when the world makes sense, and most of the time there’s no rhyme or reason about what’s going on in the world.” Especially now with these crazy thoughts about Polly, which seemed to be growing stronger by the minute. Man, he needed to get a grip.

  “Are we talking pizza or philosophy?”

  He smiled, letting her youthful beauty warm up his innards and tease at that other kind of appetite he couldn’t shake. “Maybe a little of both.” He sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. Was right now one of those life moments a guy was supposed to grab with gusto, or was he going off the deep end? “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t I scare you off like I do everyone else on the staff?”

  She smiled, took a few more steps toward his desk, and perched on the edge of the chair. He liked the way she kept her knees together when she sat, all prim and uptight. He liked the scent of whatever she’d splashed on her skin after work, too. “It takes a lot to scare me off.” She went silent for a moment. “You want the truth?”

  Did he really want to find out how a needy people-pleaser like Polly had become that way? It could ruin this perfect storm of a fantasy brewing in his mind. He glanced at Polly, so appealing and open. He needed to quit thinking only about himself. “Nothing but the truth. Lay it on me.”

  “My mom died when I was six and my dad couldn’t handle it. He took off without me. Later we heard he’d been killed in a car crash. After that I got shipped from one aunt or uncle to another. None of them really wanted me, though they pretended they did. Even a kid can tell when someone isn’t being sincere, you know?” She gave a wry, lopsided and totally appealing smile. “So it takes a lot more than what you dish out to scare me off.”

  Her story snuck around his chest like a vine and tangled up his already confused feelings. It messed with those more basic thoughts floating around in his head, too. She’d been kicked in the teeth, and she’d gotten used to jerks like him giving everyone a hard time. It didn’t settle well on his conscience that, in her world, he was one of the bad guys. Why did one person get kicked in the gut and become unbearable, while another learned to be sweetness and light. Exactly what kind of a heel had he turned into since 9/11?

  He had a sudden need to make up for all the times he’d been an ass to her. As hard as it would be, he’d banish those sexual thoughts she kept stoking in his head and show Polly some long-overdue respect. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you let me buy you dinner? I know a great Italian joint round the corner.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t let you do that.”

  “But you will.” He stood, took off and hung up his doctor’s coat on the rack behind his desk, and walked towards Polly. “Let’s go eat. I promise to have you back in time for your movie.”

  She stood and looked at her backpack and lunch container, and the small plastic bag with her soiled scrubs.

  “Leave that stuff here,” he said. “You can pick it up later. I promise to get you back in time for your movie. Besides, I’ve got to come back to say goodnight to the kids.”

  Her widened eyes showcasing those baby blues looked as though they were calculating a gazillion reasons why she shouldn’t let him take over her dinner plans, yet she stood mute. If she’d had any clue how she turned him on, looking at him like that, she would run for cover.

  Wondering how long he could keep his poker face, he took her elbow and nudged her along. “Come on, come on, let’s go, I’m hungry.” He’d use being gruff as his cover, because right now the feel of her skin beneath his fingers set off a whole new list of thoughts he hadn’t dared to think in ages.

  She lifted her brows higher, which seemed impossible, as if she’d felt something in his touch, too. “Okay, Johnny.”

  The Italian restaurant named Giovanni’s was less than two blocks away, and though Polly’s wedge heels weren’t exactly made for walking—she’d planned to change into flats before heading for the subway home—she enjoyed the exercise. Being in a big, noisy, polluted city, surrounded by skyscrapers and cement—albeit with many well-kept neighborhood parks, not to mention Central Park to soften the blow—made her miss home. John looked after her as they juggled their way through the passing crowds, ignored crossing lights, and jaywalked to their destination.

  Giovanni’s was everything she’d hoped for in a restaurant—quaint, quiet, romantic, with tall, thin bread-sticks waiting at each table and a handsome young waiter ready and willing to serve the diners. For a Friday night, the place was half-empty, and Polly wondered if it had anything to do with the food. Or if the time being only six-thirty in the city that never slept might have something to do with the small turnout.

  Johnny knew the waiter by name and ordered a bottle of Chianti and a medium cheese pizza plus two dinner salads, without giving Polly a chance to change her mind about pizza for dinner. The list of pastas and seafood was impressive, but she had said she was going out for pizza, so she didn’t fault him for that. She even kind of liked John’s take-charge approach to all things in life.

  While in his office she could have sworn there had been a flash or two of something in his eyes, after he’d ordered he gazed at Polly as if noticing her for the first time that day. That interesting curl of his lip stretched into a regular smile, like he was surprised and happy at what he’d found sitting across from him.

  “I’m going to be straight with you and say I like your hair down,” he said, shaking out his napkin and putting it on his lap, sounding more like he was reading the first order of business at an admin meeting than paying her a compliment.

  “Thank you.” A warm flush moved in a wave up her neck to her cheeks. Polly couldn’t exactly say the sensation was unpleasant, and by the appreciative glint in his eyes he must have found her turning red appealing, which made her face heat up even more.

  She’d noticed a few things about him on their walk over, too. Like the fact that he filled out his slacks really well and his broad back made even a man of his size look like he had narrow hips. He walked like a guy on a mission, too, which made it extra-hard to keep up, especially dodging traffic and crossing streets in her wedge-heeled shoes.

  The Chianti came quickly, and after downing half a glass of her ice water Polly looked forward to sharing a glass of wine with her boss.

  “So,” he said, crossing his hands on the table top. “How did your first week at Angel’s go?”

  “Really well, thank you.”

  He nodded then took a long draw on his wine, all the while staring into her eyes. He seemed to hold the wine in his mouth before swallowing, as if savoring the flavor and aroma. Oddly, his sensual care with the wine set off tingles across her shoulders. He soon diverted his stare over her shoulder and, she assumed, through the window to the busy street.

  “I’ve got to say, I’m rusty with this sort of thing,” he said.

  “What sort of thing?”

  “Taking a woman out to eat.”

  Dr. John Griffin didn’t date? Even with his gruff she
ll, that surprised her. He was a good-looking man, a doctor with a gentle heart for his young patients, a … well, she wasn’t sure what else he had to offer, but she’d figured he had a full life.

  “Don’t think twice about it. I practically forced you to do it, so …”

  He hushed her by putting his hand on top of hers, and with a no-one-forces-me-to-do-anything look stared her down. “I wanted to.”

  His touch sent her reeling, and though she thought she might jump out of her seat, she settled and went all quiet, taking in the full significance of his message. Why would he want to spend time with her? She was a country bumpkin, a girl still searching for herself. Sometimes it was better to drop all the questions and just be polite. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He shook his head. “Knock off the ‘doctor’ nonsense. We left that back at Angel’s, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, as she took her first sip of the strongly flavored wine. “Johnny.”

  That got an interesting look out of him, one that made her replay her earlier blush.

  Midway into her second piece of pizza she’d finished her wine and let John pour her another glass. Another sip or two later, plus more pizza, and she remembered what had really been on her mind since earlier in the week, and why she’d gone to John Griffin’s office in the first place.

  “May I run something by you?” she said.

  “Sure.” His mouth was full of the best pizza Polly had tasted since she’d gotten to New York.

  She took another drink of wine and placed the glass on the sparkling white tablecloth. “I’m in a dilemma about something and don’t know what to do.”

  He, swallowed, looking very interested in her line of conversation. “Go on.”

  “I’ve had a bad history of men walking all over me and, well, last year I got dumped by a guy back home. I’d really had it with men after that, and part of the reason I moved to New York was to move on and start a whole new life.”

  She could read his body language. Shoulders hunched over the table, his chewing had slowed down. He squinted. This was not a topic of conversation he was interested in but she needed to discuss her options with someone, and tonight that someone was John Griffin.

  “So, anyway, a couple of days ago I got a call from Greg, the guy who dumped me without warning last year. He’s coming to town and wants to take me out to dinner. He doesn’t mean anything to me any more, but I’m thinking he at least owes me a nice dinner, plus he mentioned something about taking me to a Broadway play, too. I know it may sound superficial of me, but I was thinking I deserved some kind of explanation and maybe he’d tell me what was up last year.”

  He sat perfectly still, hands fisted on the table for a few silent seconds, his expression impossible to read. “He wants to screw you,” Johnny said curtly, before taking another drink of wine.

  She winced from what felt like a slap in the face. “You don’t think I should see him?”

  “That depends if you want to get screwed or not.” His irritated gaze delved into hers, sending a crazy mixed-up message right down her center. Had she just annoyed him? She sat straighter, using the table to help her balance. Did she want to have sex with her ex? Had she even thought about it in the last six months?

  No.

  Not until the last few days, that was … and Greg wasn’t the face to come to mind when she did think about sex. Oh, cripes, could Dr. Griffin read her mind? Did he have any idea she had the hots for him?

  “I’m sorry,” she said, putting her napkin across her plate. “I should never have brought up the subject. It’s just that I don’t have anyone to talk things over with. The lady I rent a room from is probably eighty if she’s a day, and my best friend works evenings in Pennsylvania, so it’s not like I can pick up the phone after work and talk.”

  “You asked my opinion.” He tugged on his earlobe. “I’m giving it to you straight,” he said, his eyes darting around the room in an agitated way. “Unless you want to have sex with the jerk who dropped you last year, don’t go near him.” He looked at her as if she needed to have a psych referral.

  “You’re right. I was leaning in that direction, too,” she said, mostly to her plate. “I won’t even call him back or text him. Thanks for helping me see that more clearly.”

  Polly sensed a change in John’s suddenly irritated mood when she spoke those last words. He inhaled subtly and took another drink from his wineglass, then glanced at his watch.

  “We should probably get you back to the hospital to pick up your stuff so you’ll have time to get to that movie,” he said.

  She lifted her chin and gave an exaggerated nod. “Right.” She’d blown it. A perfectly lovely dinner with her boss. Until she’d opened her big mouth about some other guy. Could John be jealous? Of course not.

  The walk back to the hospital was quiet between them, but the streets, which had come to life with people heading out for the Friday night, weren’t. Across the way, Central Park looked hauntingly beautiful in the twilight. John strode on, not saying a word, hands in his pockets, a man on a mission. She did her best to keep up, but her feet were killing her.

  “Thank you for buying dinner, Johnny,” she said, the only words she could think of. Hoping to remind him he’d given her permission to call him that.

  “Any time, dumpling.”

  That got a smile out of her. He was a paradox. She’d been around many gruff men in her life, but had never cared what they’d thought before. Staring at his profile in the dimming light, she saw a proud man, a talented surgeon, a man respected, if not liked by his peers, yet a man loved by his patients. A man she suspected hid something awful behind his gruff demeanor. Truth was, she found him more and more intriguing and attractive by the moment.

  Beginning on Monday, she’d steer clear of him, especially after making a fool of herself by asking him for relationship advice. Whatever had made her think that was a good idea?

  Since there was no way in hell she’d ever have a chance with a man like Johnny Griffin, what was the point of being around him? Because she liked him? Found him sexy? The thoughts caused her to pause on the pavement.

  That’s when he reached for her hand, wrapping his long, strong fingers around it, and pulled her brusquely along the crowded street toward Angel’s.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  POLLY TAGGED ALONG behind John at a fast and challenging clip. They rushed through the hospital lobby towards the elevator, past the “welcome” clown pacing on stilts and the piano player, who was smack in the middle of “Old MacDonald”. Diverse entertainment for visiting hours. He moved like a man with a single thought on his mind—how to dump his dinner date. Yet he never let go of her hand.

  Still not saying a word on the crowded elevator trip to the sixth floor, he tugged her down the hall and, having left his office door unlocked, whisked it open, practically dragging her inside. Only then did he release his grip. She went directly for her bags and personal items, assuming he wanted her gone. Now.

  Why had she thought that offering John Griffin pizza was a good ice-breaker in order to bring up her question about whether or not to go out with an old boyfriend? All she’d done had been to tick him off.

  He stood off to the side, staring out the window, hands crammed into the pockets of his slacks, looking like he was doing battle with a slew of demons in his head. Had she done that to him?

  “I feel like you’re mad at me,” she said, stating the unmistakable.

  He turned abruptly. “I’m not mad at you, I’m angry about how you try to please everyone else and overlook yourself.”

  She bunched her hands into fists. “I’ve had a lifetime of practice. Old habits die hard, you know?”

  He tugged his earlobe. “I know.”

  Relieved that he wasn’t fuming at her but was more irritated at her situation, a wave of mismatched feelings swept deep, causing confusion in her mind and her eyes to water. She glanced away.

  “If you don’t mind—” her voice sounded congested “
—I’ll change out of these shoes for the subway first.”

  He turned and watched as she sat on the edge of a chair. “I thought you were going to the movies.” The man had gone tighter than a stretched rubber band and the muscle at his jaw twitched as he blatantly ground his molars.

  “It was a comedy, and I’m kind of not in the mood now.”

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  “It isn’t because of you.” She slipped off one shoe. “I guess I just realized how tired I am. It’s been a long day.” She stretched out her foot and toes. “A long week.”

  His gaze jumped all over her, from her face to her chest to her hips and legs and finally to her foot. His expression changed from indecision and caution to longing and oh-what-the-hell. Something had snapped in him, some decision Polly wasn’t privileged to know, yet his change was as plain as the sudden jangled nerves in her stomach. He made an abrupt move, came in front of her and dropped to his knees. Without a word he handed her his handkerchief for her teary eyes then removed her other shoe. His warm, strong hands caressed her foot, sending shockwaves through her.

  Polly stiffened as the idea registered of John Griffin giving her a foot massage. She inhaled raggedly while he gently worked the ball of her foot and the arch with amazingly talented fingers. Soothing sensations tiptoed up her calf, causing tingles behind her knee.

  Oh, my God, what do I do?

  A crazy answer popped into her mind as she wiped away the tears from her eyes with his monogramed handkerchief. Enjoy it.

  He splayed her toes and worked each joint right out to the tips of her nails. She tensed and sighed, and felt his touch all the way up the insides of her thighs, though his hands never left her foot.

  “The problem with women these days,” he said, increasing the pressure on her heel, “is they mess up their feet with these super-sexy shoes. All men want to do is get them off.” She looked down at his short-cropped, silver-salted hair, discovering a small endearing cowlick in the middle. His voice sounded hoarse, strained, like maybe he really was mad at her. Yet his hands told a completely different story. Was he turned on? “I say that as an orthopedic surgeon.”