by Alisha Rai
“…turn your skin lighter!”
She frowned and readjusted the phone between her shoulder and her ear. “What?”
“I said, your aunt told me that your cousin used this cream that promises to turn your skin two shades lighter in a month. You know Rabiah got engaged last week.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to bleach my skin so I can land a husband?”
“It’s a cream. It’s not a bleach.”
“What it is is a gimmick. Come on, Mom.” Really, why was she surprised? Her mother was constantly trying to fix her defects so she could become more attractive to a good man.
Men do like doctors, sweetheart, but try not to act too smart.
It’s nice that you have height, so why don’t you wear flats? That way you won’t tower so much.
You need to get out of those scrubs. None of your colleagues are going to be attracted to someone they see as just a coworker.
“I think it could work.”
“I like my skin the color it is, Mom,” she said, as mildly as she could.
“You’re getting irritated.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I think I’ll come down and visit you.”
Without making a sound, she slapped her hand against her forehead. Her parents lived about two hours away. When she’d taken this job, it had been a nice change to be within driving distance of her family after she’d been across the country for college and medical school.
She was an idiot.
“I need to go visit Sonia and the baby soon anyway. I’ll stop by to visit you once I’m done there.”
Her older sister lived between her and her parents. Sonia, as her mother reminded her often, had married a nice Pakistani-American man right around twenty-five, and popped out an adorable baby ten months later. Well, maybe her mother would get so satisfied seeing her sister’s perfect life, she wouldn’t need to spend anytime harping about hers. Maira could dream, couldn’t she?
“Mmm. Oh, look, my pager’s beeping. I have to go.”
“Don’t frown.”
“What?”
“When you’re rushing and stressed you tend to frown. It’ll leave lines on your forehead.”
Argh! What the hell? Maira caught a glimpse of her face in the framed mirror on the wall. The frown that was so obviously reflected back at her only made her more irritated. She consciously relaxed. “Goodbye.” She placed the phone down and then leaned back in her seat, stretching. Her mother was going to kill her.
She could get a man, if she wanted…
Maira stopped mid-stretch. Because that little sentence, which usually worked wonders on her self-esteem after one of these discussions with her mom, didn’t really apply anymore, did it?
She had wanted. She hadn’t gotten.
She closed her eyes and tried to push thoughts of that particular man out of her brain. So, what? So she’d chosen unwisely. It certainly wasn’t her. It was him.
You’re not too smart.
Nope.
Or too tall.
She was the perfect height.
Or not pretty enough.
She could be pretty. She glanced down at her usual uniform of light blue scrubs. Maybe not every day, but she had a hectic job, and the scrubs were comfortable. She was pretty when she tried. Hell, she’d gone all out for him the other day.
She’d gambled, she’d lost, and that was that.
Any minute now, she’d stop thinking about him and how monumentally stupid she was.
Her shoulders sagged. Gah, who was she kidding? In one way or another, he’d been on her mind for the past five days, since that horrible farce in his kitchen. After she’d sobbed her heart out for a full day and night—clutching a pillow against her chest, teen-heartbreak style, no less—she’d quickly traded shifts so she could throw herself into work, but she was off again today. She’d come in anyway, hoping she’d find something to distract her. Lord knew, she was too practical and reasonable a person to stomach much more mooning.
Plus, vulnerability in any form didn’t fly in her line of work. The E.R. was still a boy’s club. For a woman to play, one needed a certain degree of arrogance and confidence. Self-doubt was an insidious creature, worming over from agonizing about looks and desirability to affecting the skills she needed to perform effectively.
With a determined shove, she pushed back from the desk and promptly hit the filing cabinet behind her. She gathered six bulging bags of toys that sat on the floor. In an effort to avoid going home last night—not because she was avoiding thinking of that man, she just didn’t want to go home—she’d decided to pick up a couple of little gifts for the two kids who had fought their way out of the intensive care unit. The other children from the attack had already been discharged.
Since she’d felt bad about excluding the other children in the ward, she’d picked up enough to cover everyone. It had taken a chunk of change, but, well, she had no one else to spend her discretionary income on.
She was almost able to forget him as she distributed the presents. The children’s enthusiasm lightened her grey mood. By the time she reached the last door, she was pleasantly energized.
That is, until she opened the door and saw a very familiar face sitting negligently in the armchair next to the young boy she’d come to visit. She would have retreated quietly and shut the door, but Sasha turned his head, his black eyes flaring when he looked at her.
Well now you’ll just look stupid if you back out. She fixed a determined smile on her face and entered the room.
Carefully avoiding looking at him, she studied the little boy in the bed. “Hey there, Dylan. How’s it hanging?”
“Hey, Dr. Khan. Did you come to visit me too?”
“Just for a minute.” She wiggled the small box in her hand. “Thought you might be getting bored. Your mom said you like puzzles, so I brought one for you.”
Dylan’s small face lit up. He was a sweet, towheaded little boy, the last one to be upgraded from critical to stable two days ago. A bandage was wrapped around his head where a bullet had hit him. Another was wrapped around his chest. All in all, Maira knew it was considered something of a miracle he hadn’t died.
“Thanks. Lieutenant Karimi came by to visit me.”
Since she couldn’t completely ignore Sasha now, she cast him a dismissive glance. She was startled to find him watching her with a steady black gaze. There was no anger or disgust in his look. It snared her, made it impossible to look away. She gave a slight incline of her head. “Lieutenant.”
“Doctor.”
His voice sounded deep and gravelly. With great effort, she tore her gaze away and smiled at the boy. “That’s very nice. It’s great to have visitors.”
“When I heard Dylan here was doing so much better, I had to come and say hi.” Sasha stood and reached out a hand to gently pat the boy’s leg. “I better get going though.”
Thank God. She felt immediately uncharitable when Dylan’s face fell. “Will you come back?”
“Sure. Your parents said they didn’t want to tire you out though, so it may be a couple of days.”
The kid had no small amount of hero worship for the big cop who had saved his life. No doubt he’d heard the story. Sasha was easy to idolize. Not only did he look like a hero, he acted like one too.
Stop thinking about him like that.
Nothing wrong with admiring the way a man does his job.
He stopped briefly in front of her. She had the feeling he was going to say something, and she just couldn’t stand it. With a quick nod, she stepped aside.
The moment passed and he left the room without speaking further.
She spent some time chatting with Dylan, but left after a few minutes, hoping that would be enough time for Sasha to have left the floor. Hell, the building. As she traversed the corridor, she tried to avoid thinking of the man by making her grocery list. In alphabetical order.
She’d only gotten to cauliflower when a pair of footsteps fe
ll in place next to hers. Her skin prickled, the fine hairs on her neck rising up. She didn’t even need to glance over to confirm her suspicions. The best defense… “May I help you?” Her tone was pure stiff snootiness. So much for trying to act unaffected.
“I need to talk to you.”
“No thank you.”
“I went by your place yesterday, but you weren’t home.”
She masked her surprise. “I was working.”
“Maira, look at me.”
She kept her gaze firmly on the sterile tile in front of her. No way she’d take the elevator back down to her office. It was harder to ignore a person on the elevator. She kept grimly silent as they passed the nurses’ station and walked down the isolated hallway that led to the stairs. She quickened her steps. She had such long legs, people usually had a tough time keeping up with her, but not Sasha. He easily lengthened his stride to match hers.
He sighed. A second later, a strong hand wrapped around her arm, and she was hauled through an open door. The darkness closed around her as Sasha shut the door behind him. The lock made a clicking noise as he slid it into place. The slight hint of ammonia swept over her.
Janitor’s closet, was her first thought.
What the fuck, was her second.
“What the fuck?” she growled and spun around. She could just barely make out the basic shape of his hulking body.
“Ms. Maira, are you cursing?”
His teasing tone, so utterly normal and common before everything had exploded, fanned the flame of anger in her chest. Before she could think, she hauled back her arm and punched him in the stomach.
He didn’t even flinch, the bastard. “You’ve got potential, but you hit like a girl.”
She was equally furious and alarmed. She’d never hit anyone, not in her entire life. She was usually calm to the point of being comatose. “You may not realize it, but I am a girl.”
His shadowy hulk froze. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. “I realize it.”
The anger drained away, as quickly as it had come. Why was he torturing her like this? Did he just want to punish her some more? “What do you want?”
“You wouldn’t talk to me.”
“So you’re detaining me inside of a janitor’s closet until I do?”
“Yeah.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“I know. I didn’t think I’d actually have to lock you up to get you to listen to my apology.”
Wait, what? Apology? Now she was really startled. “Mr, I-never-back-down is apologizing?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
Her heart raced. It doesn’t mean anything. “What are you apologizing for?”
“Um. Because of what I said, the other day. I mean, I’ve known you awhile. I should know well enough that you’re a good person, you’re not like others. You’re not a fake and you’re not a groupie. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. And, I’m sorry.” He hesitated. “Is there something else I should be apologizing for?”
Yes. You should apologize for not loving me the way I love you. You should apologize for not seeing how perfect we are together.
“No,” she said tightly. “Sounds about right. Thanks.”
She moved to get past him, but he seized her by the arms. “You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m fine. Thrilled. Let me go.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
God, didn’t he get that it was killing her to be so close to him in such close confines? The heat radiating from his body was torture. “I have to go.” She shoved her body weight against him, taking him by surprise. His hold loosened, and she managed to scoot past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when his body pressed up against the back of hers. She froze, the thin cotton of her scrubs doing nothing to keep her from feeling all of him.
His hands encircled her waist, his cheek pressed against hers. He inhaled and exhaled right next to her face, and she realized they were breathing in tandem.
“Do you—do you make a habit of pushing women up against doors?” She hadn’t meant for the question to come out, particularly not in the half-flirtatious way it may have sounded to him.
“Only you.” He pressed closer and moved his mouth next to her ear. “You didn’t let me finish. The reason I was so mad, so crazy the other day, was because I felt betrayed and…disappointed.”
She held her breath until she felt lightheaded. “Betrayed?”
“Yeah. I mean, here I was all this time, liking you, slowly feeling you out, not trying to rush you, and suddenly I thought you were acting like every other woman out to get a piece of me. I was furious, yeah, but I was also hurt. It doesn’t excuse what I did or said, but, well, maybe you can better understand why I did it.”
Wait. Wait.
He’d bombarded her with so much, she couldn’t begin to process all of it. “Liking me?”
He sighed. “Yes. Maira, you’re more than just a friend to me.”
“Your sister.” She’d heard that before.
“No. Gross, that’s disgusting. I-I have thought of you in a…romantic way. But you’re also my friend, and the friend of my relatives, and you’re so sweet and young that I didn’t want to screw up.”
Slowly, it all pieced together, and she had to bite her lip against the pain in her heart. She was his buddy, and she worked with his brother-in-law. He was doing damage control. There was little the man wouldn’t do for his family. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You’re lying.”
“I never lie. And if I’d been in my right mind the other day, I would have known well and good that neither do you.” He brushed his cheek against hers, the move affectionate and intimate. “We’re the same like that, aren’t we, honey?”
When she didn’t respond, he turned her around. She was too upset to resist. “You’re going to make me go all the way, aren’t you?” Still cupping her waist in his hands, he slid down her body. She looked down, uncomprehending, her eyes only adjusted enough to make out his general shape in the darkness.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m getting down on my knees.”
His head butted against her stomach. Her muscles clenched, shocked at the touch, even through the layer of cotton.
“I’ve never begged a woman for anything before. Enjoy this.”
She tried to think of something sufficiently sassy. “Enjoy it? I can’t even see it.”
“It’s symbolic.”
While she was sure it was easier for proud Sasha to kneel in the dark, some of her certainty that this was an act fell away.
“I’m sorry, Maira. I swear, if you had…” He laughed, the sound exasperated. With himself, though, Maira thought. “Yeah, if I’d had any idea, ever, that you wanted more from me than friendship, I would have been all over you. You wouldn’t have been able to stop me. I’ve always been physically attracted to you.”
“You—you have?”
“What man wouldn’t be?”
“There are prettier women.” Was that bleating, insecure voice hers?
His fingers tightened on her hips. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to rise from his position, his head resting against her stomach. “Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous. Remember when we had that Fourth of July picnic last year?”
“Yes.”
“You were wearing this pink shirt. It drove me crazy.”
She frowned, thinking of her wardrobe. Her repertoire of sexy and slinky was close to nonexistent, not that she would wear something like that to a picnic with friends and colleagues. “What shirt?”
“It had these little pearly buttons down the front.”
“You get excited over button-down shirts?”
His thumbs swept over her hipbones. “I do when the top buttons keeps getting loose and you decide to help me set the table. All that bending and stretching…”
Indignation should have been the appropriate response, not the pleasure coursing thro
ugh her at his words. She did have a pink button-down with a tricky top button, which she may very well have worn to that picnic. He’s trained to be observant… But, still. “Dog.”
She could feel his smile against her. “Woof.”
The darkness made it easier for her to say things she would otherwise stumble over. “You never said anything.”
“I know I act all quick-triggered. But when it comes to my personal life, I’m pretty cautious. I don’t like casually messing around with women.” He sighed. “Instead, I acted like a jerk. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way I behaved the other day. There are no words. I was mean, and disrespectful, and I should have known better.” He nuzzled her stomach. “Please, forgive me. Please.”
Her heart twisted. He wasn’t just the man she loved; he was her friend. His pride was almost as big as his heart. Sasha didn’t beg. That he’d do it for her, after getting down on his knees, made her a believer. “Get up.”
“No.”
“The floor’s probably dirty.”
“It’s a hospital. How dirty can it be?”
“Your leg. You shouldn’t be kneeling.”
“It barely hurts anymore. Only when I’m doing the therapy. Forgive me,” he repeated, and rubbed his head against her stomach more insistently. The muscles of her abdomen clenched when he turned his dark head. She felt his lips brush against her stomach, once, twice. He leaned back. “Touch me. Put your hands on me.”
She didn’t question him. As if she was in a trance, she sank her fingers into his hair. She’d never had any reason to touch it before. The strands were cool, the texture like coarse silk, and they clung stubbornly to her fingers. She wished for a brief moment that she could turn the light on, to see her skin next to his hair.
But, no, this was better. The dark stripped her inhibitions away, the ones that often tied her tongue up with the right thing to say, the ones that worried over how to properly conduct a relationship with a man. As she stroked his hair, his fingers lightly brushed up and over her hips.
