He perked an eyebrow. “No shit.” But the bitterness was gone from his voice. He cocked his head slightly to the side, and looked at her like a paleontologist might look at a newly uncovered fossil.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “I had to get to work, and I was in a rush because I was late. I always go this way, and usually there isn’t anybody on the street so early, so I didn’t expect to find anyone, especially not you, so I wasn’t paying attention, and—”
“Not me?” the man interrupted. Sandra could see the hint of a beguiling smile play on his lips. “What do you mean, not me?”
“I mean, not anybody I’d seen before,” Sandra stammered. “Not somebody so… distinctive.”
“So if you bumped into Mary Sue from the cleaners, you wouldn’t be as nervous as a schoolgirl talking to her first crush?” he asked, amusement twitching those luscious lips.
“I’m not…” …nervous, she tried to protest. But he swept right over her, stepping closer.
“I saw you looking at me in the coffee shop. Why?”
“Why?” She stumbled at the direct question. Because I thought you were hot, and maybe knew you from somewhere? “I mean, there aren’t many strangers in town, and…”
As she tried to find the right words, to sort out the millions of different thoughts tumbling through her head, she realized the man’s body was shaking. Shaking? She was too caught up in imagining what it would be like to run her hands all over his skin to understand why. Then she heard the deep rumble coming from his throat, and belated realized he was laughing. Laughing!
“Do you always stare at men so openly?” His mouth curved in an amused, self-satisfied smile. He was mocking her! “It’s unbecoming.”
“I’m not… staring.” She frowned at him, trying to put on an indifferent front. She forced her eyes to the ground, away from his glorious body. She hated how off-balance she felt around him, but secretly loved the way he made her feel so fluttery inside. And yet, her words were again betrayed when a flood of heat rushed into her cheeks for being called out.
“Oh? Then what would you call it?”
“I was concerned for you, that’s all,” she snapped, irritated at her body’s insistence on making her blush at the worst possible moments, “to make sure you weren’t too badly burned.” Sandra had to retain some dignity in this interaction. “Although it serves you right, for walking without paying attention to where you’re going! It takes two people to crash into each other, you know. Besides, if you weren’t so engrossed in that phone in your hand—”
“Relax.” He reached out to touch her arm, and a sudden jolt of electricity ran through her body. She shivered. His voice was so confident, so smooth. “I’m teasing,” he said softly.
Sandra cleared her throat. She shouldn’t be reacting so readily to a complete stranger. “Well, I’m glad I could give you your gratification for the day. But, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to get to work.”
She tried to shuffle around him, but he stepped into her, invading her personal space. It made her dizzy to have him so close. She could feel the heat of his body radiating against her bare cheeks. “I think you owe me a little more than that,” he said smoothly.
Sandra blinked. The way he said that made it sound so dirty… if he thought she would jump all over him just because she thought he had an attractive body, he was way off base. “I—”
“You owe me a new shirt,” he said, smirking at her as if he could read her mind.
A mixture of relief and disappointment gurgled up inside of her. Sandra had no idea why she felt so high-strung. It was probably a combination of too little sleep last night, coupled with the totally off-kilter interaction with this stranger. “Me?” she clarified. “It was an accident. I can try dry cleaning it, maybe, but…” She knew she couldn’t afford to buy him that type of shirt. The way the man looked at her now, arms crossed against his chest, expectation clear on his face, made her feel like she was facing the stern owner of a china shop demanding compliance with his “you-break-it-you-buy-it” policy.
He shook his head. “It was no accident. You meant to do that.”
“I meant to do it?” Sandra was incredulous.
“I wasn’t born yesterday. You women all think the same way. You see a well-dressed man, and immediately start scheming the best way to sink your claws into him. You claim ignorance, but your ‘accidental’ encounter was obviously planned. Hell, I bet you timed it, too.”
Sandra’s mouth dropped open as he spoke. Any attraction she felt for him vanished when she heard that. Was he for real? Just how full of himself was he?
“Here.” Sandra shoved the blazer back into his hands, and stalked past him. She wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
“Hey, hey, I was joking, hold on,” the man called after her. She ignored him. She could hear his callous laughter follow at her back. She didn’t care. If he wanted to be an overconfident asshole, she had no intention of sticking around.
Chapter Two
Sandra worked in a fury as she struggled to make up for the time lost by her late arrival. There was so much to do, and not enough time to do it. The first patients would start filing in soon for their morning appointments with Doctor Baker. The desk she sat at wasn’t small, but it felt cramped with the overflowing paperwork that had built up this week.
She could manage it all, of course, but it would take time. As the only full-time receptionist at the clinic, she had to deal with medical bills and insurance papers, make calls to absent-minded patients who forgot their appointments, call pharmacies to make sure they were giving out the right drugs at the right dosages, and finish a hundred other things. Sandra also had to prepare Doctor Baker’s schedule of appointments, remind him of his upcoming anniversary with his wife, and make time at noon to sneak out and grab him a lunch that he all-too-often forgot. Then there were the dozens of unidentifiable loose papers, notes, and to-do lists that she would have to organize into some semblance of unity if she was to have any hope of ever catching up on them all.
It didn’t help that she was still flustered by the interaction that occurred outside the coffee shop.
Sandra knew she shouldn’t have been so amped up by it, but Sandra couldn’t stop replaying the morning’s events in her mind. Running head-first into the gorgeous man, spilling her coffee all over him, and then—worst of all!—being mocked and laughed at for an honest mistake was mortifying.
He was an asshole, she decided. An overconfident, pompous asshole. To have the audacity to suggest that she planned to spill her coffee over him… it was reprehensible.
Sandra shook her head. There was no use in getting so worked up over it. So what if she had found him alluring at first? He had turned out to be too damn presumptuous for his own good. Besides, after her last boyfriend—the one she left had two years ago—Sandra had little patience for men who weren’t to her liking.
Now, if she could just focus and prepare everything for today…
She looked at the clock. It showed twenty minutes to nine. The first patient was booked for the end of the hour, the same as every day, which meant she had little time to get ready.
The sound of contented whistling drifted down the hall. Doctor Baker was there, sitting in one of the little offices, enjoying the morning paper before his first appointment. He liked to come in an hour early to ‘relax’, as he called it, away from the stresses of home. Sandra suspected he only did it at his wife’s insistence, as a way for her to get him out of the house during the hectic struggle that happened every morning as Mrs. Baker prepared their four young children for elementary school.
The door to the office opened, letting in a gust of cool air that ruffled the papers. Damn! Sandra thought. I forgot to lock the door when I rushed in. That’s what I get for being distracted by that disaster of an encounter with the rude man.
“I’m sorry,” Sandra started to say, setting down the papers in her hand, “but we’re not open yet—”
She stopped
short when she saw who had come in.
The man from the coffee shop.
Sandra could not believe her luck. The man from the coffee shop was standing in her office. He’d changed into a tight-fitting crewneck white undershirt. It looked odd combined with his black dress pants and fancy shoes.
What was he doing here?
Recognition flashed in his eyes as they met hers, and a satisfied grin crept across his lips. Sandra blinked, unsure of what to do. Had he followed her here? She opened her mouth to reassert what she’d just said, and to send him on his way. Before she got the chance, Doctor Baker bustled out of his office.
“What’s this? Did I forget an appointment? Sandra, it wasn’t on the schedule you printed for me today.” The doctor stood there, regarding the newcomer with a curious look. Doctor Baker was a kindly man with a full head of graying hair and a neat white beard that made him look a little like a cross between Christopher Lee and Santa Claus.
“No,” she said, “this—”
She was interrupted as the man in the room spoke to the doctor directly. “Someone spilled hot coffee on me this morning,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he glanced at Sandra. “I thought I was fine, but the burn is a little irritated. I thought I might get some antiseptic.”
“Oh.” Doctor Baker frowned. “Well, we can take care of that, no problem. Where is it that you were burned?”
The man motioned across his chest, the lean muscles in his arm dancing as he moved. It wasn’t fair that he had the best body Sandra had ever seen. But since she’d had a glimpse of his true personality, seeing his masculine figure barely stirred any feeling in her now. Barely.
The doctor nodded. “Come on in. Sandra, this won’t take a moment. No need to take payment or charge for this.”
“Thanks.” The man smiled, shooting a roguish grin at Sandra before following the doctor.
Sandra heard the door to Doctor Baker’s office click shut. She put her head down and tried to return to work, but thoughts about the stranger dominated her mind. Why did he look so pleased with himself when he came in? Was he looking for me? The thought was ridiculous. He had no idea where she worked. If he was just passing through town, there was no way he’d have known to look here. Maybe it was just chance that he came into this clinic. Maybe he really only wanted something for the burn.
Yet, somehow, Sandra could not imagine his arrival being mere happenstance.
She realized her pulse was erratic. As well it should be! The infuriating man had no right surprising her here like this! Well, she would only have to withstand seeing him one more time when he left. Then this whole ordeal would be over.
She tapped her pen against her lips, irritation spreading through her. Thinking about the stranger was not going to make her workspace any cleaner, so she put the pen down, and started sorting through the papers, shuffling and matching them with a fierce determination, all the while trying to restrain her raging emotions.
A short while later, Sandra heard the door in the hall open. She stopped what she was doing, sat upright. Footsteps sounded down the hall. She directed her gaze forward, to the door, so she wouldn’t have to say anything to the man as he walked by. She saw him approach the exit in her peripheral vision. Relief flowered within her when she realized he was not going to make the encounter any more awkward than it need be.
He reached the door—and stopped. Then, he chuckled and shook his head, as if reevaluating something.
Sandra’s heart missed a beat when the man turned, ever so slowly, to face her. A confident smirk showed on his face.
In two purposeful strides, he was at the counter, staring down at her. A wave of heat from his gaze washed over her body. She tried to push the sensation away.
She cleared her throat, hating how her body still responded to him. The flush of heat between her legs was totally inappropriate. “Can I help you?”
“No.” His jaw clicked shut, he tsked, and the smile disappeared. “I mean—yes.”
Sandra looked up at him, keeping her face completely still. “Well?”
“Look, I think you got the wrong impression before.” With the smile gone, an icy intensity now radiated from his powerful gaze. He reminded her unnervingly of a wolf that’d zeroed in on his prey. “I wanted to—” he cleared his throat, “—to apologize.”
“Oh.” Sandra looked away, pretended ignorance. “About what?”
“You know. What I said to you.”
“When?” If he could make her feel uncertain about herself with just a glance, she owed it to herself to try to knock him off-balance, too.
“When?” he snarled. “When do you think? Outside the coffee shop, when you went stomping away.”
Sandra hid a smile, taking secret pleasure in his irritation. He did not look like a man who was used to apologizing. This entire interaction seemed foreign to him. “Why did you say it, then?” she asked innocently.
“I didn’t expect you to take it so close to heart,” he growled, the words grating out of him. He sounded so focused, now, so determined, that Sandra almost believed him.
Sandra kept her eyes off him. “It’s my fault,” she corrected. “I was the one who ruined your shirt—”
“Forget the shirt!”
The outburst startled her. Sandra looked up, shocked by the fervor in his words. The man looked frustrated and… agitated? His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightened, and an angry vein pulsed on his neck. “Can’t you see I’m trying to apologize to you?”
“No need,” Sandra said quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. He was making her feel very uncomfortable, glaring down like that. “You’re forgiven.” She cleared her throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, some of us have things to do to get ready for the day.” She buried her head in her papers again.
“Dammit, you’re not listening!” he snarled.
She looked up at him again.
“Look,” he continued, “there’s no excuse for the way I acted. I—”
“Sure there is. I ruined your shirt. I should be apologizing to you.”
“And you did—dammit! Can’t you just let me finish?”
She put her papers down and looked at him without saying a word. Clearly this was important to him, and clearly he wouldn’t leave her alone until he got whatever it was off his chest. Well, the sooner he got it over with, the better.
The man growled. When he wasn’t smirking, Sandra realized, he had an alarming tendency to do that.
“What I’m trying to say—what you’re making infinitely harder for me to do—is that I want to make it up to you.”
Sandra raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Let me take you out.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command.
Sandra blinked. That had come completely out of the blue! He was asking her out? Here? Now?
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sure you have plenty to do without me getting in the way.”
“I want to.” He leaned in, directing his stunning eyes at her. She watched as the tension in him melted, replaced by… that look.
“Sorry, but we have a do-not-date-the-patients policy here,” Sandra made up on the spot. She couldn’t think of anything better to say with him looking at her like that. “I have to comply by it. Anyway—”
“Not a date. An hour. Listen—” he said, making his voice as soothing as an autumn breeze rippling through a flowing dress, “—I don’t want you getting the wrong impression. I know what you think of me. I can see it in your eyes. Give me an hour, later tonight, to change that.”
Well, Sandra thought, he certainly is persistent. And annoyingly good to look at. Still, she shook her head. “I’m busy—”
“What’s this I hear?” Doctor Baker asked, emerging from the hall at the worst possible moment. “Did somebody mention a date?”
“No,” Sandra responded firmly. “Your new patient here was just leaving.”
“Not without getting an answer from you.”
/>
“The answer’s still no!”
Doctor Baker gave both Sandra and the man a bemused look. “Sandra, dear, you’ve worked for me for two years and I haven’t seen you with a man once.”
Heat flooded Sandra’s cheeks.
“Two years?” the stranger mused. He didn’t even try to hide his grin. “That’s quite a dry spell.”
“More of a break than a dry spell,” Sandra replied primly, staring daggers at Doctor Baker. “Guys are annoying.”
“Indeed we are, my dear, and that’s why we need women to keep us in check.” Doctor Baker agreed, chuckling. “This fellow is asking you on a date and you’re refusing him? I won’t stand for it.”
“An hour,” the man clarified. “That’s all I need.”
Sandra glared at the man. She glared at the doctor. Then, for good measure, she glared at the man again. “Why did you come here?” she asked him.
“I was looking for you.”
Sandra was taken aback by his honesty. Somehow, she got the feeling that it was all just a game to him. Yet, she’d never known anyone confident enough to be so forward with her. She considered her options. Maybe she could overlook the way he’d blundered on the street.
Besides, between Doctor Baker and the stranger, she was trapped. They seemed to have some type of secret agreement between them to bedevil her. So, he wanted an hour, did he?
“Fine,” she said. “I get off at five.”
A victorious grin split the man’s face. A grin so triumphant, so satisfied, that butterflies returned to Sandra’s stomach. And my, is he ever pretty in a rugged, don’t-give-a-damn sort of way when he smiles.
Doctor Baker clapped his hands together and positively beamed. “It’s settled then.” He winked at Sandra before retreating down the hall, calling over his back, “I’ll make sure we’re done by five!”
She scribbled her cell number on the back of a business card, and handed it to the man. “Here. You can call me then and see if I’m still up for it.”
He took the card, turned around, and started for the door—without even saying goodbye!
Yours to Savor Page 3
