Most women react the same way when I tell them what I do for a living. They’re impressed. Visions of me in a white coat with a stethoscope around my neck, and a luxury apartment bordering Central Park dance in their heads.
The reality is that I spend the bulk of my time in scrubs as a means to pay off the debt I incurred while studying to be a surgeon. Expertise isn’t cheap and my apartment speaks to that. It’s a bare-bones bachelor in Morningside Heights.
It’s a place for me to crash when I can. It’s all I need right now. That and five more minutes with Jane.
“What’s your real name?” I ask as she opens her pouty pink lips to respond to my comment about my absence from the café every morning this week.
Her mouth slams shut. She looks around before her gaze levels back on my face. “I told you my name is Jane Smith.”
I step closer to her as a guy slips past me on his way to the counter where three baristas are standing at the ready to prepare his overpriced water-downed, coffee. “Bullshit. Jane isn’t your real name.”
The corners of her lips jerk up into a smile before she thins them. “You don’t know that. You might be surprised to learn that there are women in this city who are named Jane Smith.”
“I’ve met some, many…most,” I stop myself before I confess my number to her. Hell, I don’t know it. Ballpark might be fifty… a year, multiplied by…
“Good for you,” Jane interrupts my less-than-stellar mental math skills. “I have to get to work. I’m running late today.”
“Have dinner with me,” I blurt that out as if I’m a regular nine-to-fiver who controls his life and schedule. “I’d like to see you again.”
She looks at me, her gaze scanning my face. “When do you want to have dinner?”
Tonight, but I know that’s not possible. I’m scheduled for surgery at three this afternoon. My dinner is going to consist of a candy bar I purchase from the vending machine once my patient is alert and awake in recovery.
“If you give me your number, I can call you when I know I have a free night.”
She looks to where my phone is peeking out of the top of my coat pocket. “How many Jane Smiths are listed in your contacts?”
Four; they’re referenced by hair color and eye color.
“The other night was a lot of fun,” Jane goes on before I can get a word in. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now, and you’re obviously a very busy man.”
I’m a fucking doctor who sold his soul for a lousy paycheck and the chance to save lives. It’s worth it for the most part, until you want more.
I want more now.
“What are you doing at noon today?” I pat my phone. “I don’t need your number, Jane. Meet me for an hour so we can get to know each other better. We’ll start with your real name.”
She tilts her head as her gaze narrows. “You want to meet me for an hour today? For lunch or something else? You didn’t say anything about food.”
I raise an eyebrow. I’m all for skipping food for a good fuck. I can’t read this woman so
I clarify because my cock is swelling and the sudden rush of blood to it is cutting off any chance I have for rational and clear thought. “Are you going to be hungry at noon, Jane?”
She shakes her head from side-to-side, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “I ate a big breakfast.”
Why the fuck is that turning me on?
I throw caution to the wind because I want this woman. Fuck do I want her. “There’s a Bishop Hotel on the corner. We can meet there if you think that’ll work for you.”
“That works for me,” she says as she shifts her briefcase from one hand to the other. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at noon, Evan.”
I have to wait for three-and-a-half hours to touch her. This is going to be the longest morning of my life.
Chapter 10
Chloe
Since when do I agree to meet men for nooners? I think that’s the appropriate term to use when you arrange an hour-long meeting in a hotel in the middle of the day.
I have no idea what came over me back at the café when I saw Evan. My first response was disbelief. That was washed away almost immediately with a wave of excitement.
When he proposed the idea that we meet at noon, I assumed it was for sex. My desire to be with him again is to blame for that. I don’t know if he was planning on talking over a club sandwich or not. It doesn’t matter at this point.
I’m meeting him in an hour so we can fuck.
“You’re drifting in daydream land, boss,” my assistant, Gabriella, walks into my office. “I have to admit I’m right up there on cloud nine with you. Closing the Peterson file early calls for a drink. We should go out for lunch to celebrate.”
Closing the Peterson file early was a relief for both Gabriella and me. I fought hard against the construction company that had unceremoniously fired Carl Peterson from a job that he held for more than thirty years. Their reasoning was thin and my case was strong.
I secured a substantial severance package for him that included the pension he’d been paying into for most of his adult life.
“I have lunch plans.” I try to keep a straight face since Gabi and I are more friends than boss and employee.
She looks me over, her brown eyes pinned to my mouth. “You’re holding back a grin. What are you doing for lunch? Is it business or pleasure?”
“You won’t believe me if I tell you.” I tip my chin up. She takes that as an invitation to sit in one of the chairs facing my desk.
She crosses her long legs. “You have to tell me now, Chloe. Where the hell are you going at noon?”
Visually, Gabi is the complete opposite of me. She’s tall with dark hair and an olive complexion. She’s also the ideal assistant since she has the ability to calm down every potential client who comes through the door.
Most people who seek out my services are trying to wage a battle against their current or former employer. They’re typically angry and hell-bent on revenge. Gabi reassures them so that I can talk reason into them.
“I met a man at Leanna’s wedding.”
Her brow furrows. “Is he someone famous?”
I laugh as I skim through the inbox folder on the open laptop that’s on my desk. “He’s not famous although he’s good-looking enough to be in the movies.”
“So, he’s not famous? Explain to me why I wouldn’t believe that you met a hot guy at a wedding. Don’t tell me it’s someone I know. That’s it, isn’t it? You two started talking about your lives and put two-and-two together and he’s one of my exes.”
I take a second to absorb all of that. Gabi’s personal life has put mine to shame the past two years. She’s all about taking chances and if she feels there’s no spark within the first hour of meeting a man, she’ll let him know.
I admire that about her. She sees the value in every second that life gifts her with and she uses it to her full advantage.
How am I supposed to know if Evan is one of her exes? The chances may seem slim on the surface, but there’s always a possibility. “Do you know anyone named Evan?”
“Evan?” she asks quietly. “The guy you met is named Evan?”
I trust that’s his name although it could be anything. I’m still hiding behind a fake name. I have no idea if he’s doing the same thing. “Yes. Evan. He looks like he’s in his early thirties with brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes.”
She runs the tip of her index finger over her bottom lip. “I’ve never met an Evan. He sounds hot. Are you two getting together for lunch?”
The details of my mid-day meeting with Evan aren’t important. If I tell Gabi that I’m going to hook up with him before my two o’clock conference call, I’ll spend the rest of the day evading a barrage of questions.
“We are,” I answer truthfully before I try to deflect. “Can you have the Cooperman file on my desk when I get back? I want to go over it before my call at two.”
She leans back in the chair, her gaze narrowing. �
��I’ll handle it, but after that call is over, we’re going to talk more about Evan and lunch.”
We’ll see about that.
Keeping details about Evan to a minimum means fewer complications and interference from my well-meaning friends and family.
It also means I can keep what’s between us purely physical and after what I’ve been through the past few years, that’s exactly what I need.
Chapter 11
Chloe
I step into the lobby of the Bishop Hotel at noon. It’s busy. There’s a line of people waiting to either check-in or out. I assume it’s to check out since every hotel I’ve ever stayed in wants its guests to clear their rooms by twelve o’clock so they can ready them for the tourists who arrive later in the day.
I scan the faces of the people waiting to approach the reception desk. Evan isn’t there. I glance over at a small seating area. There are two leather sofas and three chairs. Four people are gathered there, but they’re all women.
As I turn in a circle to take in the entire lobby, I glance at every dark-haired man that I see. Not one of them is Evan. The excitement that has been buzzing inside of me since I saw him this morning starts to fade.
He might have stood me up.
The thought of Evan bailing on me after our conversation this morning stings.
I know that I wasn’t imagining the way he was looking at me. There was hunger in his eyes when he saw me. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.
I start toward the lobby doors, intent on getting my ass back to my office where life is safe and predictable. I’m in control there. I know how to do my job and at the end of each day when I get home to my apartment, I’m content.
Maybe my life is as dull as watching paint dry. At least, I know what to expect almost every minute of every day.
“Jane?” A female voice calls from the left.
I ignore it because the only person who refers to me that way is Evan.
Just as I feel a light tap on the shoulder, the woman repeats the name. “Jane. You’re Jane, aren’t you?”
Before I can say another word, a bouquet of bright flowers is shoved into my hands.
“Evan told me to find the most beautiful blonde woman in the lobby, so you have to be her.”
I take the flowers before I look at the woman next to me. She’s a blonde too, the same height as me with blue eyes and a cheerful grin. She’s dressed in a white wool coat, black pants and knee-high black boots.
“You’re her, right?” She skims her fingers over her chin. “He didn’t have a picture of you, but the description he gave me was spot-on.”
I look around, not exactly sure what I’m searching for. “Where’s Evan?”
“He’s at the …” she stops herself mid-sentence. “Evan was called into work. I’m Vanessa, a friend of his. He asked me to come by and give you these.”
My gaze drops to the flowers in my hand and a white envelope that is tucked into the top of the bouquet. I tug it out from between the fragrant blossoms.
There’s only one word written on it in blue ink.
“Jane.”
“I need to get back to work.” Vanessa slides on a pair of black leather gloves. “I’m glad I found you. Evan told me not to come back until the flowers and note were in your hands, so my work here is done.”
***
I read the note Evan wrote me for a third time.
His handwriting is messy and uneven. The ink trails from one word to another but I can make out the message just fine.
“Jane,”
If I were an accountant or a lawyer who takes a normal lunch break, my cock would be in heaven right now.
Inside of you – heaven – that’s how good it feels.
Look, my life is controlled by fate.
It calls. I run like the wind.
Fate called today.
I’m sorry that her timing is completely fucked up.
I’ll be back at the Roasting Point Café the first chance I get.
Don’t give up on me.
I like your beautiful face and the rest of you.
Evan (That is my real name, “Jane.”)
P.S. I’m going to fuck your real name out of you the next time we’re together.
“Chloe?” Rocco asks as he walks into my office. “Why is it that our father sees fit to send you flowers on a Thursday for no reason? Do you know how many flower arrangements the old man has sent me? Zero.”
I laugh as I tuck the note back into the envelope and shove it into the pocket of my black dress. “He signed you up for that craft beer of the month thing for Christmas. I didn’t get that. Do you hear me complaining?”
“Duly noted, counselor.” He settles into one of my office chairs. “Gabi said you were free so I came right in. You’re not busy, are you?”
I’m not. I stopped to pick up a turkey sandwich and a fruit salad on my way back to my office after I left the hotel. The flower bouquet I was carrying around the streets of Manhattan caught a few quizzical looks.
It’s cold enough outside that I know the flowers will wither and die within a day, but for now, they’re in a vase that Gabi found in her desk drawer. I put them on the windowsill next to my desk so they’ll fall into my vision line every time I look out at the view of the building next door.
I can’t afford an actual view, so I’ve grown accustomed to the red brick façade that greets me when I open the metal blinds each morning.
“I’m never too busy for you.”
Rocco rolls his hand in the air. “For you, my favorite brother. You forgot to finish your sentence.”
I don’t have a favorite. Rocco is the one I feel most comfortable talking to about life stuff, but even that has a limit.
“I stopped by because I was in the neighborhood and Pop said some guy was giving you grief.” He eyes the flowers. “Are those from him?”
I study his profile. I know he wasn’t in the neighborhood. The words my father said to him are what brought him here. I barely even mentioned Evan to my dad the other night, but the Jones men are fiercely protective. This awkward conversation is proof of that.
“Your conference call is in five, Chloe.” Gabi appears in the doorway. “I can entertain your brother while you take care of business.”
Rocco turns back to look at her. “It’s a tempting offer, Gabi, but I’ve got business of my own to handle. Maybe another time?”
There will never be a time when my assistant hooks up with my brother. She’s always flirting with him and he tactfully shuts it down with a reasonable excuse and a killer smile.
“Everyone out.” I motion to the doorway. “I’ll talk to you later, Rocco, and tell dad I’m a big girl.”
He stands and buttons his coat. “You’re the baby of the family. You should be used to it by now. No man is going to hurt you again, Chloe. We won’t let it happen.”
I won’t either. My heart is locked away and there isn’t a bouquet of flowers or a handwritten note that will change that.
Chapter 12
Evan
You know what they say about best plans to get laid…or is it best laid plans?
If I wasn’t the gentleman that I am, I’d say that Jane was the best lay I’ve ever had but I don’t fuck and tell.
I missed my second chance today because of a complication with a patient who Jordan worked on last week.
Where was Jordan when the call for help came?
No one fucking knows so they called the only person they knew would hightail it across town and scrub in. Me.
I cursed as I left the Roasting Point Café and hopped on the subway.
It wasn’t until I was at the hospital that the brilliant idea to send Vanessa on a mission to meet up with Jane hit me.
I took a chance when I asked Vanessa to handle picking up flowers for Jane. She agreed without question, so I wrote out a quick note, addressed it to Jane, and put some cash in my favorite nurse’s palm.
“You’re on fire today, Evan,” Jordan,
the bastard who turned his phone off earlier, walks into the staff locker room. “Two procedures in a row without missing a beat? Something tells me you’re going to steal employee of the month from me.”
I turn to look at him as I tug a T-shirt over my head. “Something tells me that you’re an asshole. That something is reality. Where the fuck were you earlier?”
His gaze drops to the floor. “I took my mom to the airport. She hung around for a few extra days to make sure her baby boy is taking care of himself.”
“You have a brother?” I deadpan. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
He tugs his phone from his pants pocket. “The battery died. I didn’t realize it was non-operational until an hour ago.”
I’d call bullshit but I’m not wasting another minute in this place. I need sleep.
“You’re covering my rounds in the morning.” I pat him on the chest. “Don’t bother trying to talk your way out of it. It’s happening.”
“I can handle that.” He nods. “I’m in a particularly good mood since my date with Kylie is only days away.”
Fuck, that’s right. I forgot about my chaperoning gig in the cafeteria.
“You should get a trim before the big day.” I jerk my chin up. “Kylie likes her men well groomed.”
He rakes a hand through his bushy blond hair. “Good point. I’ll take care of it. Mark my words, Evan, my date with Kylie is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”
Considering the fact that Kylie once graced the cover of three major fashion magazines in the space of year, I doubt that the upcoming mid-day rendezvous with Jordan and I will even rate in her ‘worst hours of my life’ list. It’ll be nothing but a distant memory to her before the clock strikes one.
“My rounds, Jordan.” I remind him with an elbow to his side. “Handle it, or I’ll tell Kylie your dick is a hairy beast.”
“He is a beast.” He grabs the front of his khaki-colored pants and squeezes whatever bulge is there. “And Kylie is the beauty.”
Hush (Just This Once) Page 4
