First Kiss

by Bernadette Marie

  And she was wallowing in said bathroom while the most perfect, most amazing guy, who declared his love for her on a daily basis was—

  Steve! She’d left him out there with Mark—what if Jen was wrong about Steve, and he’d come back to pick up their relationship where they’d left off? What if Mark and Steve got into a fistfight over her and trashed Outpatients? It could happen. She slid off the toilet and skidded around the corner. She had one hand on the door handle when she noticed her reflection.

  Okay, cold water on the eyes, wipe away the mascara streaks, and a quick run of her fingers through her hair. She’d moved up a notch, from disheveled to tousled. It would have to do.

  She was an adult. She could handle this. All she had to do was smile and be professional, and everything would be fine. Besides, she was probably overreacting—a lot could happen in a year. And really, what were the chances that Steve and Mark would get into a fight over her?

  Steve hadn’t exactly looked complacent.

  Fueled by a burst of adrenaline—but mainly guilt—she heaved the washroom door open.

  Uh-oh. Mark and Steve seemed to be involved in some kind of macho glaring match. She had to separate them. Now. She pasted a brilliant smile on her face and increased her pace to a trot, like a blonde Baywatch beauty in rescue mode. All right, so she didn’t have silicone implants that slapped her face when she ran, but she did have the hair.

  Halfway to her goal, she veered to avoid trampling an old woman cruising past in a wheelchair. The woman huffed, but Ancy just flashed her teeth and swerved back on course.

  “Miss Robertson!”

  Ancy’s shoes squealed on the floor. Doris was headed her way, black unibrow in full descent.

  “What is the meaning of this?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Ancy had trouble not feeling threatened by the gesture, despite the fact that Doris’s head only came up to Ancy’s chin.

  It was hard to ignore what Mark and Steve might be getting up to on the other side of the room, but she tried for a direct, serious gaze at Doris. “I was hurrying so I wouldn’t throw off my schedule.” Over Doris’s head, Ancy saw Steve hold up Mark’s shirt, then toss it down like a challenge.

  Doris frowned. “I expect my staff to show more decorum than that.”

  “I won’t let it happen again.” Mark wouldn’t tell Steve about them. Would he? Ancy’s breathing was still fast, and her cheeks felt warm.

  “Are you quite all right, Ancy? You don’t look well.” Of course she didn’t look well. How could she look well when Steve was back, tearing her heart apart and flinging it all over Outpatients like confetti?

  In a valiant struggle to suppress a nervous giggle, she came out the victor. Barely. “I’m sure I’ll be fine as soon as I get back to work.” A big grin. “Thanks for your concern though.”

  “Very well.” Doris stepped aside, and Ancy continued at a slightly more sedate pace, conscious of Doris’s gaze following her. Evaluating her. She gave her hips a little extra swing, hoping for a smooth gliding effect. Swish, left. Swish, right. Yeah, she was starting to feel like a department head already. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Doris turn away.

  Finally able to devote her undivided attention to Mark and Steve, Ancy hurried toward them. “How’s it go—”

  Her right foot implanted in something sticky, and the left one flew out from under her. The room performed a swift gyroscopic maneuver, and she was suddenly flat on her back, trying to figure out why her head didn’t hurt. She looked around and deduced that Steve, in a lightning-fast reflex, had broken her fall.

  Which would explain why she was nestled snugly against his rock-hard pecs. Her head swam with memories she’d thought were safely tucked away in a locked compartment marked Top Secret, Do Not Open. More than just her head was swimming.

  Down, girl.

  It would probably also explain the murderous expression on Mark’s face.

  “I am so sorry!” The heat in her face before was nothing compared to this. She’d be willing to bet even her hair had given up its natural blonde color and opted for a stunning shade of boiled lobster.

  Spilled wax had spread into a giant puddle and was hardening on the floor around them.

  “Don’t mention it.” Steve wasn’t making any effort to let go of her. Pressed against his chest, she was surrounded by the heady scent of his cologne—mmm, they didn’t call it Obsession for nothing—and the secure strength of his arms. Her mind was again flooded with awareness of muscle groups, and she couldn’t help but compare Steve’s whipcord physique with Mark’s bulky muscularity. It was so wrong that being in Steve’s arms again should feel so right. So why did it?

  Finally her brain kicked in, and she gracefully returned to an upright position. Almost as graceful as Bambi learning to skate.

  Doris glided past. “Your next patient is waiting, Ancy.”

  There was a gray-haired gentleman in the waiting area with his arm in a sling. “I’ll be right with him.”

  Ancy looked at Mark. Professional. She had to be professional. “I’ll see you again the day after tomorrow.” She offered a platonic smile suitable for public viewing.

  “Right.” He coughed. “Our appointment.” Was that a smirk?

  “Good to meet you, Mark.” Steve extended his right hand, and then offered the left one instead. “Whoops, I guess you won’t be using that for a while, will you?”

  Chest puffed out, Mark rounded the bench.

  “Wait,” Ancy said, “the—”

  Mark went down just as fast as she had.

  “Wax.” Now it was Mark’s turn to scramble out of Steve’s embrace. His expression was less than pleased.

  “Are you okay?” She rushed to inspect his hand, but Steve beat her to it.

  “Why don’t you go ahead with your next patient, Ancy?” He gestured toward the mess on the floor. “I’ll make sure this gets cleaned up before someone gets hurt.”

  Without so much as a shoe-squeak or a swish of her skirt, Doris was back. “Is something wrong?”

  Ancy glanced at her watch and saw she was running six minutes late. “Just a little spill. Steve’s taking care of it.” She turned to begin her next session.

  “One moment, Ancy.” Doris unfolded her arms. “I’ve rearranged a few schedules. Steve will be working with Mark from now on.”

  Had Ancy’s face fallen off? Because if it were still attached, she’d be able to feel it, right? She bit her lip, which had gone numb. Or wasn’t there. Who knew?

  “All right.” No! Not all right. It would’ve been so perfect—if it were anyone but Steve. She looked at Mark, who was standing again. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. Take it easy with that hand.”

  “Yeah, I will.” He slid his gaze sideways, and she couldn’t read his emotions. “See you around.”

  One foot, then the other. Each step she took put space between Steve and her, but the distance had no effect on her out-of-control pulse. How could he have thought for even an instant that the two of them could work together? Even apart, they were like two sticks of dynamite with a single fuse.

  His coming back had lit the fuse.

  She wasn’t sure she could make it through the rest of the afternoon without being a danger to the patients. Why had he come back?

  She made her way across Outpatients and picked up the chart for her last patient of the day. “Mr.…” First name, Donald. Last name, Fu—there was no way she was calling him that!

  The man turned his head, and a smile creased his face. “It’s all right, you can just call me Donald.”

  She forced a weak smile. “Well, Donald, let me take a look at your elbow.” She asked him all the regular questions, and ascertained that although he didn’t play tennis, he’d given himself tennis elbow by overdoing it with a screwdriver. To remove any doubt, she pressed firmly on the joint line.

  Don’t think about Steve, just do your job.

  “Yaaaaah!” Donald jerked his arm away.

  “It’s a
little tender, isn’t it?”

  Donald’s brows drew together. That was when she noticed the color of his eyes. The irises were ice blue, rimmed with indigo, and looking into them made her heart give a sudden lurch. She’d seen those eyes before, but only in pictures of her father—and in the mirror.

  Get over it, sweetheart, you have to stop seeing your father in every blue-eyed, middle-aged man.

  She laid a hot pack on Donald’s elbow. Well, she got it on his elbow after dropping it on his foot, because her hands were functioning at around 30 percent. Not that they’d been injured, it was just that she was shaking and couldn’t seem to hold on to anything. He should have just stayed away. She’d almost gotten her life back together, and it was falling apart all over again.

  “Young lady, you look as though you could use a kind word.” Donald’s tone was gentle. And he had at least thirty or forty years on her—loads of life experience. Why not?

  “Can I ask you for some advice?” She removed the heat from his elbow and gently rubbed her fingers across his damaged ligaments to align the scar tissue.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  Steve. Steve was on her mind. And the way she’d broken it off with him, telling him she’d needed time to figure out how she felt. He was gone the next day. For the next few months, he called every day. Then their phone conversations grew further apart. After he stopped calling, she’d thought he wasn’t going to come back. His number didn’t work anymore. She’d thought she couldn’t count on him.

  But he did come back.

  “Well, I made a promise to… a friend, and now I can’t keep it.”

  “That puts you in a difficult spot, doesn’t it?” At her direction, Donald flexed and then extended his arm. “Perhaps if you explain your dilemma to her, she’ll understand.”

  She? Okay, she could work with that. “What if she doesn’t?”

  He leveled his gaze at her, the disconcerting blue of his eyes—there was no way her long-lost father would suddenly show up as a patient, was there?—intensifying his solemn expression. “A real friend will try to understand.”

  When she thought about it for a minute, she decided he could be right. Of all the things she’d shared with Steve, the fact that they’d been friends their whole lives, at least until the last six months, had to count for something.

  “I’m glad we talked. I feel better.” Ancy jotted down some instructions for Donald to follow for the next few weeks. “Now I know it’s hard, but you have to rest that elbow. And don’t be afraid to ask for help next time you want to build something—we all need a hand sometimes.”

  He thanked her, and she watched him walk away. It would’ve been nice having a father who loved her enough to stick around. Not having one really stunk. Turning away, she banished thoughts of her deadbeat dad. Life was what you make it, right? And Donald had given her some great advice.

  Okay, all she had to do was explain to Steve that she wasn’t going to get back together with him. Of course he’d understand. So she wasn’t ready to get married last year—if he was as ready as he thought he was, he wouldn’t have given up on her after just six months. What was she supposed to do? Any woman would’ve fallen for Mark and his gorgeous eyes and the way he gave to the community. Working with Habitat for Humanity said something about a man’s character, right?

  Once Mark’s injuries healed, she could relax. Department head would be hers. And her dream, the one that had always seemed too far away to reach for—maybe it wasn’t as impossible as she’d thought. Not for a department head. Things were looking up.

  Ancy said good-bye to Jen and grabbed her purse from her locker. Then she saw the shopping bag hanging beside it. The Ultimate Wedding Planner. When she’d bought it on the way to work that morning, she’d thought it would banish all her wedding anxiety, streamline the planning process, and leave her free to concentrate on work. Hugging the book close to her chest, she leaned her head against the bank of lockers. The man she’d loved. The man she loved now.

  She would not think of the way she used to feel about Steve.

  She wouldn’t.

  Yeah. Not working.

  Meet Susan Lohrer

  Susan Lohrer grew up in more towns in western Canada than she has fingers to count them on. She currently lives in southern BC with her husband of more than two decades, their two teenagers who are still at home, three dogs, and far more aquariums than a reasonable household should contain. She believes life is always better with a healthy dose of humor.