Sweet Surrender (8 page)

In the car, Dr. Trent emerged. “Do you get these often?”

“No, only occasionally, I can usually sleep them off.”

“Have you seen your doctor about them? Do you have something to take? You should really see a neurologist; have an MRI, at the very least.”

“Excedrin Migraine does the trick most times. Really, Marc, they’re not incapacitating or anything.” He was worried and she was feeling guilty for her initial fib. As the icepick of pain wedged more sharply into her eye socket and the frontal lobe of her brain, Jessie understood the irony of bad karma. Still, she wished she’d said a stomachache rather than him imagining a brain aneurysm or a tumor. “I’m feeling better already,” she lied.

Once they arrived at her apartment, he walked her inside and up to her room, insisting she get into bed right away. When she came out of the bathroom in her pajama shorts and a tank, he was closing the blinds to block the sunlight flooding into the room. He turned at the ping her ring made on her nightstand. Only a blind woman would have missed the slow sweep of his eyes over her body. They moved deliberately from the top of her head, over her messy hair that she’d just pulled from its clip and hadn’t bothered to brush, then ran slowly down her body to the berry pink tips of her toes. She didn’t fail to notice how they lingered for a second longer on her breasts and bare legs than anywhere else.

“Hop into bed now; it’s an early bedtime for you. Where is the Excedrin?”

Ordinarily, she would have bristled at his bossy ways, but coming from him, his face full of concern, she simply did as she was told. Once she was settled, she swallowed two generic tablets with the water chaser he provided. Leaving the half-empty glass on her nightstand for later, he tucked the comforter around her and leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?” His hand reached out and brushed the loose curls off her forehead.

“I’m good.” She gave him a tremulous smile. He was being so sweet, she felt worse for misleading him. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll be okay from here, I promise. I’ll be asleep as soon as my eyes close.” Her hand came out and cupped his cheek, the scruff of his five o’clock shadow rough against her palm.

“Okay. I’d promise to call to check in but if you’re asleep I wouldn’t want to wake you.” His forehead creased as he thought about that. “Maybe I should stay.”

“Please don’t. I’ll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning, you’ll see. They never last past my nap. You should go and get some rest too. You’re on call this week, so you’re gonna need it.”

He frowned down at her, his eyes searching. At last, he nodded. As he pressed his lips lightly to her forehead, she heard and felt his whispered words brush along her skin. “
Dormi, la mia
bella ragazza.
”

“Italian is so beautiful. What does that mean?”

“Sleep, my beautiful girl.” He smiled softly once more and was gone.

* * *

As she exited the chart room days later, Marc came up behind her, grabbed her hand, and hauled her down the short hall to one of the dictation alcoves. It was Tuesday and he hadn’t talked to her since he left her in bed with a migraine. He’d called with no answer and sent several text messages. A brief text Sunday evening and another the following night was all he’d gotten in return, the first saying her headache was gone and thanking him for his concern, the second saying nothing other than she was late for class and couldn’t chat.

“You’re avoiding me, Jessie. What’s going on?”

“I had class and a paper due in—”

“Too busy to call, yet you had time to send off a bullshit text? I want answers.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but once I went to sleep on Sunday, I slept straight through until morning. On Monday, I was here for pre-op at six a.m., worked through lunch, and took over in recovery for one of the girls who had a sick child. I left here with only thirty minutes to get to my five o’clock class, which lasted until nine. Then I went to the library to catch up on homework and do some research that I was behind on because I went out with you twice when I really should have been studying. This is my last semester and I can’t afford to slack off or be distracted.”

“I understand being busy. You couldn’t have taken a minute to call and tell me that?” he demanded, convinced his anger was justified. Seeing the regret flicker across her face lessened his temper a bit. “So I’m a distraction, am I? That’s a relief at least. I thought I’d scared you off.”

“I didn’t intend to say, I mean—that isn’t what—I…” Flustered and making little sense, she clamped her mouth shut and glared up at him.

He couldn’t keep the grin from emerging at her nervous rambling. “Although your behavior doesn’t deserve a reward, have lunch with me?”

The wrinkling of her brow and the little moue of her lips as she tilted her head sideways charmed him thoroughly. That all changed with her words. “I can’t. I brought my lunch and plan to do some last-minute cramming for an exam tonight.” She took a step back; in the small alcove there wasn’t much space and she came up against the desk chair, knocking it into the wall. Rattled, she looked away, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. This was not a good sign.

“Although I had a wonderful time with you, this isn’t a good time for me, Marc. I have to focus on school. For the first time in a long time, I see the light at the end of the tunnel that for once is not an oncoming train.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s—”

“Can’t you look at me, Jess?”

Turning, she faced him, although her eyes zeroed in on his chin. “This is awkward. We work together, we shouldn’t—”

“There are no rules prohibiting doctors and nurses dating.”

“No, but if it’s awkward now, imagine when it’s over.”

“So, you’re ending it before it begins. How do you know it will be over, Jess? There’s a spark between us. We’ve both felt it. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit it.”

“We’re very different.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“We’re from two different worlds.”

“You’ve been listening to hospital gossip again.”

“No, I Googled you.”

“You did?”

She ignored his pleased grin.

“Yes. Son of David Trent, plastics mogul from Bloomfield Hills, you were educated at U of M and Columbia Medical School. For Pete’s sake, there’s an educational endowment named after you in Ann Arbor. You’re also a member of Forest Hills Country Club and the Detroit Yacht and Sailing Club. You played lacrosse in high school and college. I don’t even know what that is. We have nothing in common. I’m the daughter of a single, hardworking, blue-collar waitress from the much less influential suburbs. My mother still lives in the trailer park I grew up in. She works two jobs, which barely pays enough to cover her rent and utilities. We’re too different, it wouldn’t work out.”

“Do people look down on your mother for what she does, how much she earns, and where she comes from?”

“Every day.”

“Do you think it’s fair when people judge her like that?”

“No!”

“Aren’t you doing the same to me?”

Her mouth opened, but only a small, choked sound came out. Her eyes lifted; they were liquid pools of emotion, hiding nothing. He could see he’d struck a chord. Since she had softened and her shields were weak, he pushed forward, on the offensive.

“I’m not asking you to spend the rest of your life with me after two dates,
cara.
I’d like for us to get to know each other better and explore the possibilities. If you don’t give it a chance, how do you know we don’t have a forever in our future?”

A sheen of tears misted in her eyes. Blinking rapidly to keep them from overflowing, she looked away. “After the way I acted, why on earth would you want to try?”

“Because you’re sweet, funny, and sexy as hell, and despite your warped assessment of who we are, we do have a lot in common. We’re both in the medical field, wear scrubs eighty percent of the time. We enjoy dancing, stinky animal cages, cotton candy, and five-layer lemon cake.” His wit earned him a small laugh and a watery smile. “Plus, we are both attractive as hell and I like the way we turn heads when we walk by.”

“You’re conceited, and at the risk of making your head bigger, I think it’s you they can’t keep their eyes off of.”

“Bullshit, they’re drawn to that wealth of red curls, your sky blue eyes, and killer ass.”

“Marc!”

“Don’t give up on us yet, Jess. I swear to give up Beluga and Cristal and I’ll tell my butler Jeeves he’ll have to find other work.”

Her face crumpled, “I sound like a big snob, don’t I?”

“You’re the first girl to give me the brushoff because I have money. It’s actually rather refreshing.” He wiped away the lone tear that escaped with his thumb and claimed her lips in a gentle kiss. “When’s your next night off that you don’t have to study?”

“Thursday.”

“Shit, I’m on call Thursday and Friday. After that?”

“My last mid-term is Friday, so I suppose the weekend.”

“Excellent, I’ll pick you up at one on Saturday. Wear jeans and sneakers.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly, still doubtful. Marc wasn’t the least bit discouraged, appearing to welcome the opportunity to turn the dark shadows of doubt into glimmers of hope. In fact, he seemed determined to make it so.

Chapter Six

Pouring a single glass of the red wine he’d brought, she carried it to where he stood, leaning against her kitchen counter, watching her. His relaxed stance had his butt resting up against the curved Formica edge, his arms crossed, his muscled forearms bared by the rolled up cuffs of his cotton shirt. The man did crazy things to her mind and body. As if to prove she went a little nuts in his presence, instead of handing him the glass meant for him, she took a swig to wet her dry mouth. Immediately, her lips drew together in a pucker as a shudder passed through her.

He chuckled. “Too dry for your taste?”

“It’s fine.”

His voice was soft as he shook his head at her obvious fib. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,
cara
.”

Glancing up at him thoughtfully, she decided he was right and passed him the glass. “I’m not much of a wine drinker actually, so it’s all yours.” Going to the fridge, she pulled out a berry wine cooler, unscrewed the top, and took a big swig of the cold, sweet, fizzy drink. “Mmmm, that’s more like it. No bite, no cringe, no pucker.”

“I’ll remember cold and sweet for next time,” he said with a smile.

“Would you be offended if I stick with my redneck wine courtesy of Mr. Bartles and Jaymes?”

“Absolutely not, but I’ll bring a sweet red next time and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it either, deal?”

“Deal. Dinner won’t be ready for a bit. Would you like to sit in the living room?”

As he settled into the corner of her couch, his big body dwarfed what to her had seemed a roomy piece of furniture up to now. She slid two coasters on the coffee table and sat in the other corner. It was the first time she’d had him to her apartment and cooked for him. Usually they went out to a restaurant or some kind of social function with others present, a few times Jared and Stacy had joined them and acted as a buffer. Tonight it was just the two of them—alone—and she felt a little nervous. After dating for six weeks, which had been going quite well, they had fun and enjoyed each other’s company, but she wondered if he would ever make a move beyond cuddles and kisses, and if tonight would be it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move. He took her drink from her hand and set it alongside his on the table. The next moment she let out a tiny squeak of alarm when he lifted her and set her on his lap.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

“You were too far away.”

Slightly off balance, she clutched at his shoulders to keep from toppling over. It was unnecessary, however, because his big hands held her safely, steadying her easily before skimming up her back. One stopped and splayed wide in middle while the other continued up past her shoulders, gliding up the side of her neck and cupping lightly along her jaw. His eyes, level with hers, were only inches away and gleaming with heat. Mesmerized, her breath caught in her throat as his thumb swept her lower lip. On the next swipe, as if by a will of its own, her tongue slid out and she licked it.

His answering growl rumbled through his chest, vibrating beneath her palms as his hand speared into her hair, wrapped around the back of her head, and pulled her in for a kiss. Her fingers curled along with her toes as his lips claimed hers. She melted into him, her blood racing through her body like a current, igniting a fire in her veins. Marc’s hand swept down her back, running over her ass and thighs, before slipping under the hem of her skirt. As he cupped a cheek in his large palm, Jessie released a long passion-filled moan into his mouth as she rubbed her electrified body against his.

Abruptly, a high-pitched buzzing seeped into her consciousness—the oven timer. Lips still touching, she stated the obvious. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Leave it.” His tongue dove into her eager mouth, and she did exactly that. She left it, not thinking about anything except his hands and mouth on her, until the smoke alarm screamed.

The ear-piercing shriek startled them both. “My lasagna!” she cried, jumping off his lap and rushing to the kitchen. Greeted by billowing smoke rolling from the oven, she threw open the door. A wave of intense heat hit her in the face, making her recoil. Her eyes searched frantically for oven mitts while she waved her arms ineffectually to clear the rapidly growing gray cloud in her small kitchen.

Strong hands moved her aside and with a folded kitchen towel around his hand, Marc removed the smoldering pan. Jessie rushed to the window, pushed it wide, and switched on the exhaust fan.

Taking a few steps away, he reached overhead—in a move that for her would have necessitated a step stool—and removed the plastic cover from the smoke alarm. Instant quiet filled the kitchen, much to her relief.