Mr. Doctor - A Hot Doctor Romance (Mr Series - Book #1)

by Ivy Jordan

  MR. DOCTOR

  By Ivy Jordan

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan

  Click here to get my book The Sexy Billionaire for FREE

  Chapter One

  I tapped the nail into the wall, hanging the last picture to complete my new home. It wasn’t much, just a one-bedroom apartment, but at least it was located closer to my dad and sister.

  I sat back on the couch and smiled at the picture of my family. It was from the good days, when mom was alive, before she got sick, and when I thought she’d be around forever. She’d be so proud of me right now, finished with nursing school, and ready to start living my dream.

  A giggle escaped as I remembered my sister, Caroline, telling our mother she wanted to be a princess when she got older. “You’re already a princess,” she whispered in her ear, causing my sister’s eyes to light up like a Christmas tree.

  Well, her dream nearly came true. She may not be an actual princess, but she certainly was living like one. Her fiancé, Todd, owned several large fitness centers in the San Diego area, and had enough money that she’d live like royalty, even if she wasn’t.

  Me, and my dream, though—ugh! That was going to take some time, I guessed. When I moved back here from Sacramento after graduation, nursing jobs had proven to be scarce. It was going to happen though; I knew that. I believed that. I had to believe that.

  My large front window overlooked tall palm trees, a row of expensive beach homes, and just beyond that, a small glimpse of the ocean. It was good to be back home, but there was a part of me that missed my life in Sacramento. There was a calmness to San Diego though, something more mellow about the people, the way of life. It was beautifully tropical, and it reminded me of the high school parties down by the beach, and the surfing lessons given by an older boy named Randy. Ahh, I still got weak in the knees when I thought of his deep-blue eyes. I’d never seen another set so blue, so calming, and I was certain I never would again.

  I picked up my laptop and searched through the job postings again, just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I was signed up with a temp agency, and the only thing they found for me was an administrative assistant position at the local high school. The title sounded more sophisticated than what it really was. I answered phones, called kids to the office over the intercom when needed, and called parents to make sure the students absent that day were sick and not playing hooky. There was nothing about the position that excited me, other than it being a job with a paycheck.

  A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts, from my recollection of old times, and the sense of self-pity based in the present day.

  “Are you ready to go?” Caroline asked as I opened the door.

  She stood there in a sheer wrap, her bikini top, with a large wicker satchel thrown over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you forgot?” she asked.

  I stood there, still wearing my night shirt and sleep pants, hair a mess, and the vague memory of telling her we’d spend the day at the beach together floating through my frazzled mind.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologized as I motioned her inside and shut the door.

  “Well, get ready,” she pushed.

  I nodded, taking one last sip of my coffee before setting it down and rushing to my bedroom. How could I have forgotten?

  I quickly stripped out of my night clothes, tearing through drawers to find my bikini. I’d been here nearly two months, but hadn’t once been to the beach, or even to the apartment pool for that matter. “I have an extra one,” Caroline said, holding a bright green bikini in her hand as she stood in my doorway. I smiled, loving the fact that my sister knew me so well. I hadn’t ever been very organized. I was better now, but still not together like she was. I knew I’d never be that together. No one would. No one but Caroline.

  She handed me the bikini with a warm smile. “What’s that on your breast, Claire?” she asked curiously.

  I gripped my bare breast in my hand, lifting it to see what she was pointing at. “A mole, I guess,” I said.

  It was the first time I’d seen it. “It’s a little bit odd though, for a mole,” Caroline said in her mature, motherly tone.

  She had been thirteen when our mother died, and I had been just nine, so she had taken over the maternal role in the family, and even now wasn’t ready to give it up.

  I moved to the mirror, examined the blotch on the underside of my left breast and shrugged. “Looks like a mole to me.”

  “How long’s it been there?” she asked.

  “I never noticed it before,” I admitted, now feeling a little concerned myself.

  “Well, you should really get that looked at,” she warned.

  “I still need to make all my doctor appointments,” I said quickly rushing into the bathroom to dress.

  Once alone, I stared at the blotch. It wasn’t exactly a perfect circle, but I wouldn’t call it odd. It was nothing. I was sure of it. But, just to appease Mother Caroline, I’d make an appointment.

  “God, I wish I had your body,” Caroline sighed as I walked out of the bathroom.

  “Why? Yours is perfect!” I exclaimed, shocked by my older sister’s envy.

  “Far from it,” she moaned, pulling at her belly, trying her best to find some fat to show me. She was perfect. There was nothing at all wrong with Caroline; mom was right, she was always a princess. “But you look like a swimsuit model,” she teased.

  I had lost a few pounds after my move. I was broke, or at least close to it, so I’d been living on ramen noodles for the last two months. I smoothed my hands against my sides, realizing that for the first time I had very defined hips. Caroline was only a few inches shorter than I was, but I’d always envied her for that. I’d always felt lanky, towering over the girls and most of the boys in my class during school, and she had never been anything other than cute and petite. Now, being five feet eight inches tall was considered sexy, especially with my small frame and curvy hips.

  “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing a beach towel and hastily shoving it into Caroline’s bag. I slid into a pair of cotton shorts, and pulled a t-shirt over my head. Just because Caroline chose to believe I looked like a model, didn’t make me believe it.

  “I can’t believe Todd bought you this for an engagement present,” I said as I slid into the leather passenger seat of her brand-new Ferrari 458. It was the most sleek, sexy car I’d ever seen in my life.

  “He’s so good to me,” she gloated, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  With a simple click of a button, the roof lifted and was tucked securely into the car. I was amazed. Good to her? Shit, he was more than just good to her. “What did this cost?” I gasped.

  She giggled. “We don’t talk about money.”

  “Since when?” I laughed.

  “It’s just not polite,” she said sweetly.

  Yeah, because you have it and I don’t.

  My head fell back against the seat as she took off at a wild speed. “Holy shit, that’s fast,” I exclaimed.

  “This baby will hit sixty miles in just three seconds,” she boasted.

  “Oh, so we can talk about how great your expensive little car is, but just not how much it cost?” I teased.

  She smiled warmly and then laughed. “You know I don’t feel comfortable with extravagant gifts like this. I’m certain he spent a small fortune, but I didn’t as
k,” she admitted.

  Everyone stared as we pulled into the parking lot of the public beach. I felt like a movie star as I opened my door and stepped out onto the black asphalt.

  “So, how’s your job going?” she asked.

  I followed her through the deep sand toward a set of wooden chairs with fluffy cushions with an oversized umbrella set between them. “It’s going.”

  “You don’t like it?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s just… not what I thought I’d be doing.”

  “It’s only temporary. I’m certain something will come up soon,” she assured me.

  I wasn’t so sure. Everything I did find, a bachelor’s degree in nursing was required. I planned on going back to school, but I needed a job to help pay for the costs if I wanted it to happen.

  “Do you need money?” she asked, again with the motherly tone.

  I did. I needed lots of money, but I didn’t want hers, or anyone else’s for that matter. I wanted to earn my own way.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, and offered up a convincing smile.

  “I hate to see you struggle,” Caroline sighed, and made herself at home in the comfortable lounger.

  I stripped out of my shorts and t-shirt before sitting down beside her. I loved that she still looked after me the way she did. But, it was time I started looking out for myself.

  Her eyes lingered on my bikini top. “Don’t forget to get that looked at,” she warned.

  “I won’t.”

  “Do you need me to find you a doctor?” she asked.

  I shook my head and smiled. I let my head rest against the soft cushion while closing my eyes. The ocean lapped against the shore and the nearby rocks as children played in the water, and lifeguards sounded their loud whistles. I was home. It may not have been everything I expected, but I was finally home again.

  Chapter Two

  My family doctor couldn’t get me in for another month, and I knew Caroline wouldn’t stand for me waiting that long to find out the blotch on my breast was merely a mole and not some form of flesh-eating cancer. I entered the date into my calendar and then called the gynecologist she recommended. I hadn’t had a pap smear since I’d left for college and after a five-minute lecture from the front office lady, Mildred, I wasn’t going to show up there next month without at least an appointment made.

  I dialed the number and entered the digits to get to the appointment center as the recording instructed. Finally, a human voice sounded on the other end of the phone. It was a woman, her voice sweet, and her tone cheerful. “Dr. Andrews’s office; how can I help you?” she asked.

  I gave her my information, explained that my family doctor highly recommended their office, and then waited as she pecked on her keyboard to find an open appointment.

  “I’m afraid we won’t be able to get you in until the end of November,” she said, still working her cheerful tone in my uninterested ear.

  “November? That’s over three months away,” I gasped.

  She sighed as she began tapping on her keyboard once again. Her tone was no longer cheerful, but took on an edge of aggravation as she tried to accommodate my own frustrations. “I have a spot on my breast,” I said calmly.

  “A lump?” she asked.

  “It’s more like a mole, but its turning red, and there’s a small lump underneath,” I explained.

  “Plus, my birth control prescription from my Sacramento doctor expires this month,” I added.

  I refrained from giggling as I have her that excuse. I had taken my birth control religiously every day for two years while away, but hadn’t needed it once. “You need to get laid!” Caroline had screeched at me when she heard I’d stayed celibate for so long.

  “College is for partying. It’s the time when you sow your wild oats. What on earth did you do?” she gasped.

  “I studied,” I explained.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty of opportunities to date, or even just to hook up. But I was on scholarship, and my grades had to come first. Besides, I knew I wasn’t going to stay in Sacramento after college, and most of the students on campus had homes to go back to. Why start something up with someone I’d probably never see again? I didn’t get the whole “wild oats” thing, anyway. I’d never been one to run around, have one-night stands, or even date much at all, for that matter.

  “Okay, we can squeeze you in this afternoon. Can you get here by two o’clock?” the woman asked, suddenly cheerful once again.

  “Yes. I’ll be there,” I agreed, quickly jotting down all the instructions she gave me and hanging up my phone.

  It was already noon, and the office was thirty minutes away. The woman on the phone had told me to arrive early enough to fill out paperwork, so that didn’t give me much time.

  I hated pap smears. They were embarrassing, almost degrading. Those metal speculums looked like torture devices. Ugh! I wasn’t looking forward to this at all.

  I stripped down, jumped in the shower, and began grooming my vagina to prepare for such a close inspection. Dr. Andrews? I was wondering if that was a woman or a man. God, I hoped it was a woman.

  I shaved my bikini area, then the small hairs that were growing wild around my labia very carefully so as to not end up with razor bumps. After cleaning myself thoroughly, I found a modest pair of panties, not one of the thongs I normally wore. I remembered my last visit with Dr. Jackson in Sacramento and how I got lectured for wearing the strings that she said would do nothing but irritate my sensitive skin. Still, I hated panty lines, and to me, they weren’t irritating.

  I didn’t bother dressing up; after all, it wasn’t me the doctor would be looking at, it was my hoo-haa.

  I made it to the office thirty minutes early, giving me plenty of time to fill out the huge stack of paperwork they required for new patients. As I looked around the waiting room, I suddenly felt self-conscious about my choice to wear yoga pants and a t-shirt. My long, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and only a small dab of makeup had made it to my face. All these women were impeccably dressed, their hair in perfect place, and their makeup looked like it had been professionally done. Wow, I had no idea you needed to dress formally to visit the pussy doctor. I tried to stop myself from giggling at the thought, but as one woman snarled at me with a fake smile, I couldn’t help myself.

  Her perfectly manicured nails tapped on her phone as she turned her attention away from me. I reached for a magazine from the table in front of me and started pretending to read. The article I opened up to was about how to ask a man out on a date. I’d never asked a man out, and I certainly didn’t think I’d ever have the nerve. I quit pretending and started reading. I was amazed at how the author felt women should take stronger roles in their dating lives.

  “Don’t wait for the man,” she wrote. “Men love strong women,” she added. I was intrigued. I always felt I was a strong woman, and Caroline always told me men were intimidated by me, and that was why they didn’t ask me out. “Why would you be home on a Saturday night?” Girls from college had always asked me that. I didn’t really understand their bewildered tone, nor believe my sister, until I finished reading the article.

  “Men are scared to be rejected, so the most beautiful women are often avoided.” Wow, the author’s words were exciting me a little bit. Maybe this would be my turning point, the one where I’d finally take a few risks, ask a man out, and maybe, like Caroline suggested, get laid.

  “Miss Carson,” a tall blonde called out my name as she opened the back office door.

  “That’s me,” I said, placing the magazine back in its place and following her down a narrow hallway.

  “Right in here,” she said warmly, motioning to the open exam room.

  I walked inside. It wasn’t much different from any other gynecologist’s exam rooms I’d seen. The walls were painted a calming blue, and a white curtain hung from the ceiling on tracks that would allow privacy around the bed. The notorious paper gown that all women hated was
on the paper-lined bed. I stared at the stirrups for a moment, my stomach growing anxious as the nurse instructed me to get undressed and sit up on the table and get comfortable. Yeah, comfortable…right!

  “He’ll be in shortly,” she said with a smile and closed the door.

  He’ll? So it is a man. Shit!

  I stripped down, neatly folding my clothes into a pile on the chair by the table. I slid the gown on, leaving it open in the back without much choice since I couldn’t find any strings. I stepped up onto the small foot stool and slid up on the table. I scooted my ass as close to the edge as I could to avoid having to do it with the doctor’s face between my legs.

  A small tap sounded before I watched the knob turn and the door slowly open. The doctor, Dr. Andrews, peeked inside with the warmest smile I’d ever seen. His sandy-blond hair rolled into loose waves from his face, flowing down from his head, nearly touching his shoulders. Holy shit, he is gorgeous.

  “You must be Claire,” he said, extending a hand to me.

  I gripped his hand. It was strong and warm, and so very smooth. “Yes,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks start to burn. Why didn’t I fix myself up? Now, all those women in the lobby made sense.

  “I hear you have a spot on your breast that is concerning you,” he said.

  His deep-blue eyes penetrated my soul as I stared into them. I couldn’t even answer for the first few seconds. All I could do was fall hopelessly into his gaze.

  “Yes,” I finally said, snapping out of my trance.

  “Let’s get a look at it,” he suggested.

  I slid down my gown, exposing my left breast to this man who made my pussy tingle. “It’s on the underside,” I explained nervously, trying to lift my breast so he could see.

  He pulled out a small light from his coat pocket, and moved closer to me. His hand took the position of mine, holding my breast without a glove. I tingled as he lifted my breast, examining closely the spot that had my sister so concerned. “It looks like an irritation of some kind,” he said quickly shutting his light off, and stuffing it back into his pocket.