Dance with the Doctor

by Cindi Myers

“The owner. He doesn’t like this kind of disruption.”

  Such a polite word for a brawl, or what would have been a brawl if the other guy hadn’t toppled like a tree. “Does this sort of thing happen often?” Mike asked.

  “Occasionally. Usually the guy’s had too much to drink. I put him off and Dileep escorts him away and suggests he leave and not worry about paying for his dinner. Most of the other diners never notice anything’s wrong.”

  Mike was pretty sure at least half the room had seen him deck the guy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. I just saw his hands on you and…” He shook his head.

  She uncrossed her arms. “You surprised me. I didn’t think you were the type to do something like that.”

  “I’m not. At least, not usually.” He grimaced.

  “Is your hand all right?”

  “It’s not broken, but it smarts. Serves me right for pulling such a stunt.”

  “Let me see.”

  “No, it’s fine. Really.” But she took his hand, cradling it in hers. Her nails were painted a bright pink, her fingers long and slender. She held him gently, her skin soft and warm as only a woman’s could be. He was a man alone with a beautiful woman he suddenly wanted very much.

  The strength of his desire surprised him as much as the punch had. Tonight was obviously an evening for every long-suppressed emotion to rise to the surface, so he didn’t fight the feeling, merely brought his free hand to rest against the exquisite tenderness of the hollow of her throat.

  When her eyes met his, questioning, he brought his lips to hers. Answering the question.

  Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined, and as warm and welcoming as he’d hoped. She arched into him, and he put his hand at the curve of her waist to steady her, his palm resting against her bare skin.

  There was no hesitation or awkwardness in this kiss, no fumbling of strangers. Her lips parted in invitation and he accepted. She tasted sweet and earthy, like everything sex should be.

  He kissed until he was breathless, reluctant to break the spell of the moment. Then he realized she was trembling, and he was trembling too. He raised his head but kept his hand at her waist. “If you want me to apologize for that, I won’t.”

  “No. No, I don’t want you to apologize.” She rested her palm against his chest, her cheeks flushed, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. They stared at each other, the amazement he felt reflected in her eyes.

  Finally, she took a step back. “Let me change clothes and we’ll go somewhere and talk.”

  He waited for her in the hall. While he was standing there a burly man in a dark suit approached. “Is Darcy in there?” he asked.

  “Are you Dileep?”

  “Dileep Aswan.”

  “Darcy’s changing. I’m sorry about tonight. I’ll pay for my meal, and for that man’s, too. And any other damages.” He reached for his wallet.

  “No, no.” Dileep waved him away. “I have a wife and three daughters. I understand how it is.” His expression grew more stern. “But don’t come to watch her dance anymore. Some men can sit back and watch others admire their woman, but you cannot. I cannot. We’re too hot-blooded, so we must stay away.”

  Mike had never in his life thought of himself as hot-blooded, but he nodded. “Yes. I’ll stay away. I promise.”

  When Darcy emerged a few moments later, dressed in jeans and a red parka, Mike told her he’d spoken to Dileep.

  “I heard,” she said.

  “He seemed more amused than anything, as if I’d done what any man would.”

  “You didn’t tell him I wasn’t your woman.”

  “Explaining seemed too complicated.” After the kiss they’d just shared, he wasn’t sure how he’d characterize their relationship. He’d punched a man because of Darcy, then kissed her passionately—it seemed clear they’d moved beyond casual friendship, though he could think of half a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea. “Where do you want to go now?” he asked.

  “There’s a coffee shop two doors down. Let’s go there.”

  She left her costume in her car and they walked down to the coffee shop. At this time of night it was quiet. She ordered a chai latte and Mike asked for black coffee. Now that the adrenaline had faded he was starting to drag.

  They sat at a table near the front windows. In the harsh fluorescent lighting the stage makeup she’d worn to dance looked overdone, like a girl playing dress-up. “I usually go straight home after I dance,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.

  “I usually fall asleep on the sofa in front of the television on the nights Taylor’s away.”

  “Tonight was certainly more exciting than that.”

  “I’m sorry I overreacted with that guy. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you in trouble with the owner.”

  “It’s okay. By next Friday it’ll be forgotten.”

  “I think Dileep may have the wrong impression now about our relationship. I hope that’s not going to be a problem. I mean, if you have a boyfriend…” He had a sudden image of some big bruiser looking him up and warning him away.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not really at a place in my life where I want to date anyone, either,” he said. Better to be honest with her, in case she expected that kiss to lead to something more. As much as the physical pleasure of kissing her might lead him to wish they could take things further, he wasn’t one for casual affairs, and his failed marriage proved he wasn’t good at emotional entanglements. “It’s only in the past few months I’ve felt comfortable letting Taylor out of my sight for more than a few hours.”

  “Is her health really that fragile?”

  “So far she’s progressing remarkably well. But the best way to deal with setbacks is to anticipate them.” If he’d anticipated problems earlier on he might have been able to spare Taylor so much of the suffering she’d gone through.

  “I guess I’d be overprotective in your situation, too.”

  “Melissa says I go too far. She was always able to detach better than I was.” He took a long drink of coffee. When he’d met Melissa, he’d been drawn to her energy and drive. Her confidence had been contagious. Later, after Taylor became ill, he saw her darker side. “As you might have noticed, she can be a bit self-centered. I suppose I let her get away with too much. I hate to fight in front of Taylor.”

  “She wasn’t the only reason I left last night,” Darcy said.

  He’d wondered…. “That picture upset you. The one of Taylor in the hospital.”

  She nodded. “It looked so much like Riley the last time I saw him. Except he was already dead. Brain-dead, anyway. The machines were just keeping his organs healthy until they could be donated.”

  “Losing your husband at the same time must have made everything ten times worse.”

  “Yes.” She gripped her cup with both hands and sipped her tea.

  “Are you able to talk about this?” he asked. “We can change the subject.”

  “No, I’m okay. It’s good, really, to talk to someone.”

  “Tell me about your husband, then. What was he like?”

  “Pete was…he was charismatic. The kind of guy who made friends easily. We met while I was at the University of Colorado.” She smiled. “He gave me a traffic ticket, then called the next day and asked me out.”

  “He was a cop?”

  “Yes. And I was a very serious postgraduate student, working on my master’s degree in community relations.”

  His surprise must have shown on his face. She laughed again. “I know. What happened to that woman? A friend talked me into taking a belly dance class and I was hooked. By that time, Pete and I were pretty serious. I told him I wanted to quit school and become a dancer and he urged me to go for it. That’s when I knew he was a keeper. We got married a few months later.”

  Mike was sure he would have told her she was crazy to abandon her education.

  “You know what they say
about too good to be true,” she said. “That was Pete. I didn’t realize until after we’d married that he had a drinking problem.”

  “He was an alcoholic?”

  “That’s not what I called it at the time. His drinking never interfered with his job, so I rationalized it wasn’t so bad. He just liked to drink hard when he was off, and once he started, he wouldn’t stop. He was never mean or violent when he drank. He just wasn’t there—he was off in some other world where Riley and I didn’t matter.”

  “Did you say anything to him about his drinking?”

  “Oh yes. We had some spectacular fights. He always made the excuse that he worked a stressful job and was entitled to a release. And then he’d promise to cut back and we’d kiss and make up. For a while, things would be better.”

  “So you stayed with him.”

  “When he wasn’t drinking, Pete was a great guy. A terrific father. Riley adored him. And I loved him. When you love someone, you forgive their shortcomings. I thought if I stuck with him, we could work it out.”

  “I hoped Melissa and I could overcome our problems, too, but she didn’t share that hope.”

  “In the end I think I did overlook too much.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Pete always promised me he’d never drink too much when he was alone with Riley. I suspected that wasn’t always the case, but I pretended it was. I couldn’t believe he would ever do anything to endanger his son.”

  “My God—the accident?”

  “Pete had been drinking that evening. He lost control of the car on an icy road. It rolled down an embankment and he and Riley were both killed. No other cars were involved, but a man saw them go over the edge and reported it.”

  Mike shuddered. He could picture the scene, see the bodies, as he’d seen so many others when he’d worked a rotation in the emergency room during his training. “Where were you that night?”

  “Dancing at a private party.”

  She’d left her son with a man she knew might not stay sober—to go work. On the surface it was such a damning statement, as damning as “he was a doctor and never realized his own daughter was sick.”

  “It was my job,” she said. “I’d made a commitment and needed to keep it. But I’ve never stopped feeling guilty about it, asking myself, what if I’d stayed home that night?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t give up dancing.”

  “I thought about it, but it’s what kept me sane. Through the worst of it, I could turn on the music and dance and forget, at least for the space of one song. Without that refuge, I think I would have lost my mind.”

  “I’ve always wondered how someone survives a tragedy like that,” he said.

  “I think part of me died with them that night.

  The part that trusted easily and believed everything always works out. But I didn’t want to become a sad, bitter woman who lives in the past. Life goes on and I have to move forward, too. To do otherwise feels like it would be dishonoring their memories, somehow.”

  “You’re remarkable,” he said.

  She shook her head. “The grief has a way of am bushing me. I’ll be fine one minute, then something will happen and it’s like it’s brand-new all over again.”

  “Like the picture of Taylor in the hospital.”

  She nodded and blinked rapidly, her eyes shining.

  He slid his hand across the table and twined his fingers with hers. She gripped him tightly, holding on, and again he felt the pull of attraction.

  He wanted to comfort her—to make love to her and, in doing so, to comfort himself. He wanted to protect her, and to protect himself and Taylor from the kind of tragedy Darcy had suffered. She’d lost everything, and he had come to the very brink of the pit she was climbing out of.

  Being with her forced him to face the reality that he only imagined he was in control of his life. She proved he wasn’t. The idea repelled him and made him want to turn away.

  But the woman herself compelled him to stay, the tension between them winding ever tighter, until all he could do was hold his breath and wait to see what the next words—or the next kiss—would bring.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ONE KISS DID NOT a relationship make. Darcy reminded herself of this whenever she thought of Mike during the next week. Granted, it had been a spectacular kiss and the memory of it left her feverish. But nice as it had been, she regretted she’d let down her guard so much. Mike was a great guy, but she’d never intended to reveal so much about her marriage—and her role in Riley’s death—to him.

  “What’s up with you?” Jane asked Tuesday night, when Darcy flubbed a move in the dance she was teaching Jane’s class. “You seem distracted.”

  “I just have a lot on my mind.” Darcy glanced at the clock. “I think we’ve worked enough for one night, ladies. Keep practicing at home. Only four weeks until our show.”

  Jane lingered after the others left. “Hannah says the girls’ class is going really well. She can’t wait for Wednesdays and she’s driving me crazy, changing her mind about her costume every five minutes.”

  “Hannah’s really patient with the younger girls.”

  Jane beamed at this praise for her daughter. “I’m glad you started the class. You obviously really enjoy it. You look…I don’t know, happier, lately,” Jane said.

  “I thought maybe you’d met someone.”

  Darcy silently cursed her tendency to blush so easily. Mike was someone, all right, but how to explain her relationship with him when she didn’t know how to define it? Mike was a friend, who knew things about her no one else did. But since when did she kiss a friend the way they’d kissed the other night? And since when did a mere friend punch out a guy for getting a little overenthusiastic about her dancing?

  She still couldn’t believe Mike hit that guy. It seemed so unlike the quiet, reserved doctor. Mike obviously had hidden emotional depths—depths she’d glimpsed again when he’d kissed her so passionately.

  “I’m not dating anyone, if that’s what you mean,” she said.

  “The offer’s still open to introduce you to Eric’s friend.”

  Darcy debated taking Jane up on it. It might be good for her to date someone. Someone without children. Going out with someone didn’t mean she had to make a commitment to them, right? “I’ll think about it.”

  She missed the days when she was young and her first thought at the promise of romance was of all the good times that lay ahead. Too much had happened to allow her to be that innocent again. Love could make a person happy beyond belief, and losing that loved one could damage her forever.

  That’s what Darcy was really afraid of, that she was too damaged to love again, that her heart was too broken for anyone to put it back together.

  BY WEDNESDAY Darcy was jittery with nerves, torn between wanting to see Mike again and determination to avoid him. She still hadn’t decided what to do, when the phone rang just as the girls were finishing their class. “Darcy? It’s Mike. I need to ask a favor.”

  “Sure, Mike. What do you need?” She was surprised by how calm she sounded.

  “I’m tied up here at the office this afternoon. Could you keep Taylor until I can get away to pick her up?”

  His words—so practical and businesslike, so focused on his daughter—brought Darcy back down to earth. Of course there was nothing between her and Mike. He wasn’t presuming anything based on a single kiss. She had nothing to worry about.

  “Of course I’ll look after Taylor,” she said. “I have a few errands to run, so why don’t I bring her to you at your office?”

  “Not the office. I’ve seen two flu cases this morning and have a possible third scheduled for this afternoon. I don’t want her exposed.”

  “I can take her to your house, then.”

  “I’ll have my neighbor come over and watch Taylor until I get home. She’s done that for me before.”

  “I don’t mind staying with her,” she said. “I don�
��t have any more classes this evening.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Thanks. Taylor would like that.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll look forward to seeing you too.”

  As declarations went, it wasn’t much, but it was enough to launch her back into giddy uncertainty. Which was silly. After all, it was only one kiss. She looked around the room for Taylor. “Your dad is busy at the office with a bunch of flu cases,” she said. “So I’m going to take you home.”

  Taylor made a face. “Do I have to stay with Mrs. Winslow?”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “All right! Mrs. Winslow won’t let me out of her sight for one second. I think she’s afraid I’m going to drop dead of a heart attack in front of her. If I so much as cough, she panics and wants to call Dad.”

  Darcy sympathized with the skittish Mrs. Winslow. While she didn’t fear an imminent heart attack, the knowledge that Taylor’s health was vulnerable was daunting. “I’m glad we get to spend some more time together,” Darcy said as they climbed into her car.

  “I’m old enough to stay by myself,” Taylor said. “I mean, it’s only an hour or so.”

  “Not my call,” Darcy said. Though she wouldn’t blame Mike if he refused to leave Taylor alone until she was eighteen.

  At Mike’s house, Taylor unlocked the door and they trooped inside. “Want to see my dad’s ties?” she asked. “He has some cool ones. I like to go through them and pick out ones for him to wear.”

  “I shouldn’t be going through your dad’s things,”

  Darcy said. “He’s entitled to his privacy. You wouldn’t want strangers coming in and going through your belongings, would you?”

  “You’re not a stranger. Want to see my troll doll collection instead?”

  “Troll dolls?” Darcy laughed. “They still make those?”

  “Sure.” Taylor led her into her room, to an alcove beside the bed lined with shelves. The shelves were filled with troll dolls, their wild hair in every color of the neon rainbow. “Someone at the hospital gave me one when I first got sick,” Taylor said. “I loved it, so other people started bringing them to me.”