Paging Dr. Hot (12 page)

“I’ve seen his column.” Harrison’s tone is flat and unimpressed.

“I’m hoping he’ll agree to chair my Bowled Over charity event.”

“Well…good luck with it.” Harrison’s tone might be cool, but his expression isn’t. He studies me with glittering emerald eyes as the muscles contract in his hard jaw.

“Thanks.” I give Harrison’s hand a gentle squeeze to lighten his suddenly tense mood. Big mistake—the contrast of my soft palm with the back of Harrison’s muscular hand gives me a jolt that goes clear to my toes…and other places. From the look on his face, he felt it too.

Damn
.

“Do you think it’s possible to have strong feelings for two men at once?” I ask Fizzy, while I glide a wand of Nars “Deep Throat” lip gloss on my lower lip, adding the finishing touch to my makeup. I’m in my bathroom getting ready for my date with Dr. Escobar aka Dr. Heart, as Fizzy sits on the bathtub ledge keeping me company.

Every time I wear the lip gloss, I remember how Chloe and I ran to the big Sephora store at Time Warner in the Upper West Side to buy this shade. Delighted about our “deep throat” mission, we giggled like silly schoolgirls.

Fizzy gives me a funny look as she pets Romeo, who has taken over her lap. “Are you practicing your seduction for your date with Dr. Escobar?” she asks when I purse my lips in the mirror above the bathroom sink.

“You haven’t answered my question. Do you think it’s possible?” I ask again.

“Of course. How do you think the Bachelorette feels when she has to make her final rose decision?” Fizzy asks, cackling.

“True. But this isn’t a TV show. And everyone knows that those reality shows are staged,” I say, giggling too. “I’m telling you, Fizzy, Harrison is looking pretty hot these days.”

“Rrrrr,” she growls like a tigress. “You can say that again. I saw him in his jogging shorts.”

“I know, it’s almost sinful how good he looks, but it’s not only that. I like his personality…a lot. I’m having feelings for him that I don’t want to feel,” I admit.

“So? What’s wrong with that?” Fizzy looks at me as if I’m an alien.

“It complicates things. My sights are on Dr. Escobar. I haven’t even had my first date with him and Harrison is playing havoc with my head.” Not to mention my girly parts.

Fizzy makes a strangled sound, causing Romeo’s ears to stand at attention. “Gawd, Frankie! You sound like you’re living in the last century. Why aren’t you calling him by his first name?” She gives me an incredulous look. “By now he should have said, ‘Call me Alex’,” Fizzy mimics in a deep, male Cuban accent.

“Maybe he doesn’t feel it’s appropriate in his office?” I give an impish shrug. “Privately, he’s my Dr. Heart.”

“I thought you were looking for Dr. Hot.”

“Hot, heart, what’s the diff? He’s both.”

“Sweet,” Fizzy says, grinning.

“I gotta hurry up. I don’t want to keep Alex waiting.”

I run out of the bathroom and slide my feet into high-heeled sandals, then glance in the full-length mirror. Smoothing my jade green mini dress over my thighs, I twirl around, checking the mirror to make sure the dress covers my backside and thighs.

“Do you think this dress is too short?” I fret.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

I should have known better. Look who I’m asking—Fizzy,
who thinks Lady Godiva was overdressed.

“I hope you’re not wearing any armor,” she warns, making a gagging face.

“I only wear control top pantyhose when I’m on camera,” I say, wounded.

“Good. Latin men
love
women to dress sexy and they appreciate curves, especially plump ones. They like jiggle too.”

“I have the curves all right.” I pat my hips ruefully. “Maybe I shouldn’t work so hard to eliminate the jiggle.”

“There’s nothing succulent about a scrawny chicken, as my Cuban lover Santiago says,” Fizzy confides.

“Santiago? I’ve never heard you mention a Cuban lover before.” I give her a measured look. “Why have you been holding out on me?”

“He’s a long story and you know I’m not the kiss-and-tell type.” She twirls a long, red curl around her finger and then points it at me. “Better concentrate on working your mojo tonight.”

“I will. I can’t wait for my date with Dr. Heart,” I feel excited about having him all to myself tonight…and I’m a little nervous.

She grins wickedly. “Wiggle your cute ass. Latin men love that.” She would know. “And while you’re eating, casually lean forward and give him a glimpse of your cleavage, so he wants a taste of that too,” she adds in a knowing voice.

“It’s not as if he’s hired me for the night, Fizz.”

“Better work it, girl. No prim miss tonight. Got it?”

“Got it. I need to get going, Fizzy Pop.” I grab my purse and head toward the door.

“You don’t have to hurry. Don’t you know that Latin is another word for late? I doubt he’ll be on time. Santiago always keeps me waiting, and honey, he is worth it.” Her dreamy eyes sharpen with frustration. “But damn, he’s gone again.”

“What do you mean? Did you two break up?” I don’t want to let it go. Fizzy might be a closed book about her love life, but she seems to enjoy a healthy one.

“No, nothing like that. We reconnect—literally—whenever he’s in town, but sometimes I don’t know how long he’ll be gone. Don’t give me that look. It’s complicated.” She heaves a dramatic sigh. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Yes, and I want details. I’m holding you to it.”

“Sure,” she says, waving me off. “I’m kidnapping Romeo tonight. We’re gonna watch the funniest pet videos and then I’ll bring him back in the morning.”

“You spoil him, Fizz. He’ll be impossible to live with tomorrow.”

“That’s your problem,” she says with an unrepentant shrug. “Romeo and I are going to have fun. Aren’t we, baby? Aren’t we, you cute little fur ball?” she asks rubbing his ears. Romeo coos in return, his eyes glowing with devotion. “We’re going to have a pajama party. I haven’t had a man in my bed in a long time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Shoot, Fizz was right. I check my watch—eight thirty. Dr. Heart…er Alex is half an hour late. I’m sure the note he gave me said:
Ortanique tomorrow night at 8.
For what seems like the hundredth time, I glance around the tropical themed restaurant where rich, natural woods blend beautifully with hand-painted flowers and fruits on yellow walls. No Alex—I sure hope he remembered.

I content myself with checking out the menu again. Ortanique is a foodie’s dream come true. I think I just made my decision. I’ll order the jerk double pork chop with guava Bacardi rum sauce, topped with drunken raisin fruit flambé. I close the menu and finish my glorious mojito
.
Tonight the lime juice, rum and crushed mint leaves are blended to perfection.

I’m tempted to motion to the waiter for another
one, but I don’t when I hear a deep male Cuban voice call out, “Frrrancesca.”

My head whips around and I see Alex striding toward my table in a white open collar shirt, navy blazer and tan pants. A giddy rush of excitement washes over me and my heartbeat quickens. He is just my type—tall, dark and handsome.

“
Hola, linda
.” Ooh,
linda
means pretty in Spanish. We’re getting off to a good start!

Alex leans forward and kisses my cheek. (No air kissing here). I enjoy the feel of his warm lips on my cool cheek.

“
Hola,
Alex,” I murmur with a welcoming smile. Might as well get chummy from the get-go.

“Sorry I’m late.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “A patient came by the office with an emergency and I had to check her into the hospital. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“No worries. I just got here,” I fib. Who am I to complain if he’s been tending to a sick person? “I hope your patient is okay.”

As soon as Alex sits down, a young blonde waitress comes to our table and greets him by name. She seems delighted to see him. He must be a regular here, probably a good tipper too.

“Allow me to order for us,” Alex says.

“Sure, go ahead,” I say, even though I’m not thrilled about it. I prefer to order for myself, but since Alex invited and it’s our first date, I graciously go along with it. “I like most anything, except raw food like sushi.”

Alex nods and orders without opening the menu. “We’ll start with the macadamia crusted crab cakes and then we’ll have the black grouper with orange liquor.”

So much for the jerk double pork chop and those yummy drunken raisins. I guess the fish is healthier. I don’t really mind, his choices sound delicious too. I wonder what I’ll have for dessert (besides Alex).

Two hours later, I don’t know what I have eaten or how much I’ve drunk (I think it was two mojitos). All I know is that Alex is amazing. He told me he became a cardiologist because he lost his father to a heart attack when he was in his twenties. From the way he talks about his mom and sisters, I can tell he’s a real family man.

And best of all, when I told Alex about the Bowled Over charity idea, he said, “What a brilliant idea.” He even agreed to chair it.

I think I’m in love or lust…or both as I gaze into his exotic, black eyes.

We’re polishing off the creamy mango gelato when Alex’s iPhone rings. He takes the call and seconds later, signals the waiter for the check.

His expression is grave. “I’m sorry, Francesca. I have to go to the hospital. The patient I admitted tonight is in a crisis.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the check.” A doctor’s wife must be prepared for those types of emergencies, I tell myself, even if I’m very disappointed.

“Thanks. I’ll reimburse you later and make it up to you tomorrow night.” His black eyes glisten in a way that leaves no doubt he’ll make it up to me. “Give me your address.”

I jot my address and phone number on a napkin and hand it to him.

“Pick you up at seven. Dress casual. We’ll be going out on my boat.”

Uh, did I hear him correctly? He’s taking me out on his boat tomorrow night? Tiny tingles snake up and down my spine at the image of tall, dark and handsome Alex navigating the dark sea with me at his side. (I hope the sharks will be sleeping.)

“
Encantada,
” I say, making sure I’ve used the right word for “delighted” this time.

“
Ciao
,
linda
,” he says, thrilling me again with the compliment. Alex plants a kiss on the top of my head and shrugs his broad shoulders into his navy blazer. I hold my breath as I watch him stride out of the restaurant to save his patient’s life.

Wow.

Romeo: Now this is more like it. First I got to hang out with Scout at the park, then I wolfed down Doggy Gourmet, and now I’m at Fizzy’s pad. We’re having a pajama party, Fizzy style, with funny videos and chewy bacon treats.

A little while ago, she opened a bottle of wine and we grooved to Reggaeton music with me in her arms. Now I’m lying on top of her with my snout resting on her plump bosom.

Fizzy is passed out, snoring. Must have been all that wine…

Chapter Ten

I’m getting ready for my sailing date with Alex as I lie on my bed and pull on my skinny jeans. Somewhere under the mounds of discarded clothing, I hear an irritated yelp from Romeo who was snoozing. I toss aside the outfits I tried on earlier and find him underneath my pink camisole. Poor little guy, I almost squashed him.

“Romeo, are you alright?”

He emits a shuddering groan, gives me a dirty look and promptly goes back to sleep.

I gaze in the mirror and think I finally have the look I was hoping for—not fussy, but casual and cute. If I don’t, I can’t do anything about it now. There is no time left to change or to pick up the mess I’ve made. Alex will be here in fifteen minutes!

My iPhone rings. I follow the sound and find it next to Romeo, whose drowsy eyes pry open briefly before falling back asleep with a muffled growl.

“Aw, poor little guy, you can sleep all you want when I’m gone.” I check caller ID and answer.

“Hey, Elise. Sorry we’ve been playing phone tag. How are you and the twins?” I feel bad about sounding rushed but Dr. Heart is on his way.

“I’m feeling much better now that I’m home,” Elise says. “Mom and Dad have been a huge help. You should see Jake and Josh, they are getting so cute.”

“I can’t wait to see them again.”

“When can we get together and go over work stuff?” Elise asks, sounding professional and more like Elise BC (before children).

“Whenever you want. I could use your guidance. We’ve been swamped at the station.” (And I’ve been too preoccupied with Alex). I admit this only to myself, feeling a little guilty. I need to get a move on with Alex. Antoinette is going to kill me if I don’t get him in the station ASAP for the interview.

“How about breakfast on Sunday morning? After I feed the boys, I can meet you at Bob’s Bagels. It would have to be early though, like eightish.”

“That’s fine,” I say.

“Great. I’ll call you Saturday to confirm.”