Best Medicine, The

by Brogan, Tracy

  “I guess it’s not such a bad thing after all, getting caught in the rain,” he said.

  I smiled into his shirt. “I guess not.”

  Panzer walked around us and sniffed at the air, his wavy coat now bedraggled and dripping. He’d had a rather dignified air to him before. Now he just looked like a wet dog, and my heart broke a little more on his behalf. This was no way for him to spend his last day. It was too unfair, having your life cut short just because you were on the oldish side and no one wanted you.

  I looked up at Tyler.

  “I’ll take the dog,” I said.

  He shook his head, sending droplets to the floor of the gazebo.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I want to. I’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  That earned me the dimples, and my knees turned to water.

  “I’ll help you with him, you know.”

  Now it was my turn to smile. “I know you will. Even if I don’t ask you to.”

  It seemed we were agreeing to more than just the dog. We were making a pact, forming a frail sort of union, entwining our lives, if only for the moment.

  This was my point of no return. If I was going to step away, this was the time.

  But I didn’t.

  And he knew I wouldn’t.

  Tyler’s hands moved slowly up my back and over my shoulders until his fingers cupped my face, as if I were as fragile as I felt. I was a bubble about to burst, but his lips were soft, grazing over mine in a tease more than a kiss. I sighed, a feminine little flutter of breath I couldn’t hold back. And then he did kiss me. Really kissed me, with pressure, and certainty, and a confidence that made me forget my own name.

  I kissed him back, not caring that we were standing in a public park where anyone could see. Not caring that he was too young for me. Not even caring that he’d never marry me. For right now, I just wanted him to keep kissing me.

  And he did.

  Chapter 16

  “I HAVE THE PERFECT MAN for you,” Hilary said, pulling me into her office. “If I wasn’t married, I’d take him myself.”

  She shut her office door and practically pushed me into a chair.

  “Good morning, Hilary,” I said sardonically. “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

  I’d only been in the office for five minutes. My hair was still wet from my walk in the rain, but nothing could dampen my spirits—except maybe having to tell Hilary that I’d just played tonsil hockey with Tyler Connelly in the public park. Perhaps I’d keep that little secret to myself for a while.

  “Good morning. Yes. Whatever. We don’t have time for that. Here, read this.” She shoved a stack of papers into my hands. “His name is Chris Beaumont, and seriously, this guy looks like a keeper. And thankfully, he’s got nothing to do with that cheese-ball website.”

  I looked down. Stapled to the corner of the papers was a picture of a very handsome man with thick dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Next to that were the words curriculum vitae. I flipped through the stack.

  “This isn’t a dating profile, Hilary. This is somebody’s résumé and credentialing paperwork.”

  She grinned like one of those animated dogs on a commercial with oversized human teeth. I hate those commercials.

  “I know,” Hilary said. “Score for me, huh? He’s applied for privileges at the hospital because he just joined a dermatology practice in Bell Harbor. He’s single, grew up in Grand Rapids, and he wants to settle down here and start a family. I tell you, Evie, he’s perfect for you.”

  I looked at the paper again. He was strikingly handsome, and he certainly had nice stats. So why did my stomach drop as if I were staring at a photo of a swastika?

  “How did you get this? What makes you even think he’s interested in dating?”

  “I got the full scoop from Reilly Peters. She’s that slutty physician recruiter. Remember her? Honestly, three cosmopolitans and that woman will tell you anything. Don’t ever ask about her trip to Jamaica.”

  Duly noted. “She had no business sharing his personal data with you. It’s inappropriate,” I said.

  “So is bringing wine to an intervention, but she did that once too. She said it was rude to show up empty-handed.”

  That sounded like the Reilly I knew.

  Hilary shrugged and leaned back against her desk. “Yeah, OK, so she’s not particularly bright, but in this case, I think her intel is dependable. I mean, look at this guy, Evie. He graduated from University of Michigan, did his residency at Stanford, and now he’s here looking for a wife. He’d have regular office hours, little or no call, and he’ll make a shitload of money.”

  “It’s not all about money.”

  “That’s easier to say when you’ve got some. But either way, this guy has the whole package, including the actual package.” She giggled at her own joke. “Gabby showed me your list. You want intellectual compatibility, economic equality, and sperm. This guy has all that.”

  I looked at his picture again. Even if he was only half as good-looking as the photo suggested, he’d still be damn good-looking. At first glance, he certainly met my criteria.

  Hilary eyed me suspiciously. “I don’t get it. What’s the hesitation? I thought you’d be elated.”

  Ruh-roh. I brushed the hair back from my face.

  “Um, no hesitation. He looks great. It’s just, how am I supposed to meet him if he’s not actually a part of Bell Harbor Singles?”

  That wasn’t my only hesitation, of course. There was the little matter of Tyler. My lips still tingled from his kiss, and I was fairly certain that tonight when he came over to bring me my dog, there might be some unleashing.

  Hilary made a checkmark in the air with her index finger. “Already handled. You’re having lunch with him next Tuesday.”

  “What?” The floor beneath me wobbled. These sisters were driving me crazy. First Gabby, and now Hilary.

  “Yep, at Jasper’s. You’re welcome.” Hilary’s smile was smug.

  “Tuesday’s not going to work,” I blurted out.

  “Why? I checked your calendar. You have patients until one, and then you’re off for the afternoon.”

  Think fast, Evie. Think fast.

  “Exactly, I’m off for the afternoon because I’m meeting some new decorator at my house. I want to get it painted before I move in.” Maybe I should just admit to her about Tyler, but I wasn’t ready, and it wasn’t even really a thing, so there was nothing to tell. What would I say? I’d like to take a break from husband hunting to fool around with a man young enough to be my yard boy?

  “Who’s your decorator?” She said it as if she didn’t believe me.

  “Some guy named Fontaine Baker. I got his name from one of my patients.”

  “That’s not until four o’clock. I told you, I checked your schedule. And by the way, I know Fontaine. I hope you like feathers and animal prints.”

  “Animal prints?”

  “Yes, but don’t change the subject. You can do a late lunch on Tuesday, right?”

  “Um . . . ?”

  Damn it! I had no explicable reason to say no. This Chris Beaumont looked like the real deal. And maybe a date with a decent guy would help me see Tyler Connelly for the speed bump that he was. He was slowing me down from my real destination. Marriage. A husband, some kids, a real, grown-up relationship.

  “Yeah, OK. I think I can manage lunch. But could you change it to that sushi place on the corner? I’ve been craving sushi.”

  I wasn’t, of course. But I couldn’t risk lunch at Jasper’s. If Tyler had been upset about Marty Cable, he certainly wouldn’t be happy about this guy.

  Chapter 17

  TYLER WAS BRINGING PANZER TO my apartment, and they should arrive any minute. I’d rushed ar
ound for the last half hour tidying things up, but in the scheme of messes, the figurative one I was making was far worse. I had stopped at the shelter at lunch and filled out all the adoption forms. Now all there was left to do was wait. Officially, the dog was mine. And unofficially, so was Tyler.

  Earlier this morning, standing in rain, I’d been so certain of my decision. Taking in the dog had seemed like the right thing to do. I’d felt a rush of altruism and good-deedliness. I was saving a life. We doctors love that sort of thing.

  I’d been certain about Tyler too. The wind and the storm and his arms and his mouth. It had all proven too irresistible. Even now, the thought of him sent blood whooshing to every erogenous zone on my body.

  But this afternoon, I’d taken some time to look over Chris Beaumont’s credentials, and that had caused a little whooshing as well. Everything Hilary had said about him seemed true. The only part she’d left out of her description was his dedication to charity work, his multiple awards and publications, and the fact that he was the child of two physicians, just like me. I did want to meet him. And I had every right to meet him.

  Tyler and I weren’t a thing. We were hardly even a fling. Maybe I should just take my dog and say good night. For both our sakes, maybe I should end this road trip before it even began, before our emotions got tangled up in the bedsheets, and each good-bye felt like the final one.

  I jumped like a hot kernel of popcorn when my doorbell rang. They were here. I was ridiculously nervous, as if the dog might reject me and not want to live here. Or even worse, he’d love it and want to stay. And so would Tyler. What was I doing?

  I wiped my palms over the front of my shorts. I’d put on a sundress after work, but moments earlier had changed into navy-blue shorts. With a belt. A complicated belt. It had three prongs and two loops. If Tyler was going to get to me, he was going to have to work for it.

  I breathed deep and slow, trying to recall what my yoga instructor had taught me. Then I remembered—I’d never taken yoga. That’s how rattled I was right now. I made a mental note to give yoga a try—because clearly I needed to learn its relaxation properties—and then I opened the door.

  There they were, all sunshiney and happy bright. Panzer’s tail was wagging as if he knew I’d saved his life. Tyler leaned over and kissed my cheek, a natural gesture, as if we’d been easy lovers for a decade instead of virtual strangers with barely twenty hours of conversation between us. Somehow it felt like more. My left ventricle slammed twice as hard as normal against the right as the two sides tried to regulate.

  I pulled the door open wider. “Come on in.”

  Tyler was carrying a couple of white grocery bags. The plastic crinkled as he set them on my counter. “I have some other things for you in the car. Some dog food and bowls, stuff like that.”

  Dog food? Bowls? I hadn’t thought of that. See? That’s how bad I was going to be at taking care of this animal. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. Not for any of it. But my Boy Scout was. He made two more trips in and out of my apartment, bringing in various canine necessities, including a fresh new doggy bed made of Sherpa material.

  “Where do you want this?” he asked.

  “Um, in my bedroom, I guess.”

  His smile was equal parts sexy and playful. “Lucky dog.”

  I pointed to the bedroom door, trying to look unfazed and probably failing. I followed behind him, noticing his nice, broad back in the process. “Put it in the corner, please.”

  He set down the bed and patted it. Panzer strolled over, sniffed it, and then made three circles before settling down with a wumpf and a doggy sigh.

  Tyler turned to me, bright and satisfied. He brushed his palms together and stood up. “Well, he’s all moved in.”

  “I guess so.” I tapped my hands against my thighs. This was when I should tell him thanks very much and buh-bye. He’d done his good deed for the day, and so had I. Now I needed to nip this budding romance right in the . . . well, in the bud.

  “Want some wine?” I asked instead.

  Excellent, Evelyn. Alcohol is definitely the way to shore up those defenses.

  Tyler stepped a little closer. His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered so long it nearly felt like a kiss. I wondered if anyone had ever burst into flames from the heat of his stare. Something indefinable about him set off reactions in me I’d never felt before. I understood biology well enough, but none of this made sense. It was like when I’d tried ice-skating as a child and had no control over where my feet went. No control over the slip-slide of my body. The lack of certainty over where I was headed felt like falling. Endlessly.

  He took another slow step and rested his hands on my hips, tugging me gently toward him. I had the resistance of a magnet.

  “Wine sounds good.” His voice had gone all husky, in that I’m-about-to-kiss-you-blissful tone.

  Run away. I should run away.

  My head knew it, but the message went no farther. My hands eased up his arms and slipped naturally around his shoulders, drawing him near when I should be doing just the opposite. Wherever we were headed was a dead-end road. There was no future for the two of us. But Tyler Connelly seemed like a worthy destination all on his own. An all-inclusive resort, and suddenly I needed a vacation.

  I lifted up on my toes, rubbing against him as I rose and enjoying his sharp intake of breath. I wasn’t completely without wiles.

  “We should have wine,” I whispered, my lips so close to his I could already taste him.

  He nodded. “Later.” He hands moved fast, wrapping all the way around me until I was tight in his embrace, and then he kissed me, thoroughly.

  All the certainty I’d felt this morning came crashing back, a tidal wave of desire nearly drowning me. I wanted him. All of him. It had been two years—two years since I’d been kissed at all, and a lifetime since I’d been kissed so well.

  This was about to become a very, very good night.

  Light from the setting sun cast golden rays around the room, creating patterns across the bed as I pulled Tyler toward it.

  Yes, we should have wine first.

  I knew that.

  I was familiar with the protocol. A little wine. A little conversation. A little bob and weave while we pretended this wasn’t a sure thing. But we’d done that, in our way, and my partner didn’t seem to mind the rush.

  As soon as the backs of my legs tapped against the edge of the mattress, down we went. I’m not sure if he pushed or I pulled, but it didn’t really matter. Kisses scattered everywhere. He grazed his mouth across my neck, pressing here and there, biting just a little. I arched to grant him access gladly. The bed creaked as we moved, as if even my furniture was out of practice, but Tyler skimmed his warm hands over my warmer skin, and knowledge I hadn’t used in a while all came rushing back. This was just like riding a bike. Only so much better. I tugged his T-shirt up and over his head and thought my pulse might exceed my heart’s ability.

  Tyler in a shirt was a delicious vision.

  Tyler without one was a work of art.

  Impatient now, I pushed at his shoulders to roll him to his back. He laughed, but his humor turned into a throaty growl as I kissed my way from his navel up toward his chest. His hands tangled in my hair, tugging, caressing. I was alive, in the moment, with every nerve ending in my body shouting to be touched.

  Pheromones didn’t care about tomorrow. They didn’t care about education or employment or age. Their only job was clearly defined, and ours were working overtime.

  Tyler let me have my way for a minute, but then I was on my back again as he tugged at my intricate belt. I should’ve worn the sundress.

  “Damn it, Evie. Is this thing locked?”

  I giggled low, a sexy, sultry purr I’d never heard from my own throat before.

  “It only unlocks if you brought protection. Please tell me you brought protection along
with all those dog toys.”

  “I brought protection.”

  “Thank God.”

  Tyler laughed at my demonstrable relief, and so did I. Then I reached down to help him set me free of the belt, and free of any residual reservations.

  Laughter faded as tussling gave way to rolling waves, and flutters turned to long, sure strokes. I was hyperfocused on sensations, giving and receiving. I was happy.

  And then I was soaring.

  And then I was blissful.

  And then I was laughing, because when all was said and done, when the loving was over and our pulses had returned to almost normal, Tyler lifted his tranquil face from my shoulder and said, “Now will you go out with me?”

  “What’s this tattoo supposed to mean?” I traced my fingertips over Tyler’s deltoid as we lingered under the covers of my bed. The markings on his arm were a little harder to make out now that the sun had set sometime during the midst of round two.

  Tyler tucked his other arm up under the pillow as we faced each other.

  “Just my dad’s initials with some extra swirls.”

  My euphoria dimmed. I wished I hadn’t asked him, but the topic was out there now.

  “That’s sweet. How old were you when he died?” I rested my palm against the ink.

  “Sixteen. Grant and I both got them the day after the funeral. My mom was furious.”

  “Because it’s your father’s initials?” Surprise pitched my voice upward.

  He gave a tiny shake of his head, as much as the pillow would allow. “No. No, of course not. When we explained that’s what they were, she cried. But she was still mad as hell because she hates tattoos. Plus we took Scotty with us, and he was only ten.” He said that last part as if it were inconsequential.

  “Ten? What kind of place would agree to give a tattoo to a ten-year-old?”

  Tyler smiled, a lazy, sleepy smile. One weighted down by memory. “None, as it turns out. They almost wouldn’t do mine except Grant knew the guy.” A wistful sigh escaped him, and I recognized the longing. The missing of someone who was out of reach, as my father had often been. In a strange way, this was something we had in common, although my father’s absence had been voluntary.