The Best Medicine (9 page)

The woman was already in her white coat, looking over a patient’s file, ready to begin her day.

Without so much as a hello, Dr. Atler only nodded her head at Lauren before addressing Prescott. “You have a patient waiting in Two.” Then she stalked back the way she came. Prescott followed close behind.

Lauren allowed her body to drop into her chair. She hadn’t been that tense in a long time. If that encounter was any indication of what the rest of the day would be like, Lauren was going to need a stiff drink later. Or maybe twelve. She already had plans to go to an exhibit at the gallery where Simone worked, so at least there would be some free wine waiting for her at the end of the day.

Lauren settled into her work, pushing all thoughts of Prescott and Atler from her mind. About an hour later, her desk phone rang. She answered it quickly, not taking her eyes off of the computer in front of her. “Hello, Jacobs’ Family Practice, this is Lauren. How can I help you?”

There wasn’t a response from the calling party, though Lauren thought she heard the rustling of papers.

“Hello?” Lauren asked. “Can I help you?”

Lauren heard a throat clearing before it actually spoke. “Sorry, Lo. It’s Scott.”

“Scott? Christ, you sound out of it. Are you okay?”

“It’s great to hear from you too,” Scott replied dryly. “Listen, I have an awful migraine. I need you to tell Atler that she needs to come over here and cover my appointments. The majority of them have seen her at one time or another, so she’s the better choice. I thought I’d be able to make it through the day, but I can barely open my eyes. I would just cancel everyone, but I have a few patients who absolutely need to be seen today. Just tell Tammy to reschedule who she can from Atler’s patient list today, and reassign the rest to Prescott. He normally runs light in that office anyway.

“Sure, no problem, I’ll tell them right now. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to sleep it off. I’ll be fine.”

Lauren had a twofold reason for the next words out of her mouth: one was that she had no desire to be left in the office alone with Prescott all day. The other was slightly more confusing, but no less pressing to her. She knew that Scott lived alone, and the thought of him being on his own when he wasn’t feeling well gave her an odd pang in her chest. “What’s your address? I’ll come bring you lunch.”

“What?” Scott sounded truly confused. “No, that’s okay. I don’t need you to bring me lunch. I’m not even hungry.”

“Aren’t you a doctor?” Lauren asked accusingly.

“Obviously.”

“Then you should know that it’s important to eat when you’re sick.”

“And where did you get this expert medical advice, the back of a Campbell’s Soup label? It’s a headache, not the flu. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’ve done just fine on my own for the past ten-plus years.”

The thought of Scott being on his own with no one to take care of him for the extent of his adult life didn’t sit right with Lauren. Not that she’d have told him that. “Listen, if you think I’m going to let you trap me in this office with Prescott all day, then you’ve got another thing coming. Now what is your address?”

“He was a dick, wasn’t he?” Scott sounded angry and apologetic at the same time. How he managed it with a voice that sounded exhausted, Lauren didn’t know. But it warmed her to her toes.

“No, he
is
a dick. And if you force me to stay in this office with him, then there’s a good chance I’ll be back in jail by lunch. Address, Scott.”

Scott sighed before rattling off his address to her. “And Lo,” he said just as she’d been about to hang up. “I like Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup.” And with that, the line clicked dead.

*   *   *

Lauren wasn’t sure what she was more perturbed by: the fact that Scott had basically dismissed her after placing his soup order or the fact that she’d still stopped and gotten it for him. She walked into his apartment building, her eyes immediately landing on the security officer
dressed in a burgundy suit jacket with the apartment complex name embroidered on the breast.
Of course the bossy bastard lives in a guarded fortress.

“Can I help you?” the large older man asked cordially.

Yeah, you can talk some sense into me.
“Yes, I’m here to see Scott Jacobs. My name is Lauren Hastings.”

“Ah yes, Miss Hastings. He told me to send you right up. Just take that elevator to the seventh floor. Take the hallway to the right and his apartment is the very last one.”

Lauren’s eyes followed where the man was pointing and then she nodded at him before setting off for the elevator. As she boarded, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was willingly walking into the dragon’s lair. But before she could get too anxious at the prospect of ending up burned by him, she remembered that more often than not, the dragon was the one who got slayed. And my oh my, how she wanted to slay Dr. Scott.

She followed the security guard’s instructions and found herself in front of Scott’s door. She knocked softly, not wanting to make his headache worse. She was about to observe Scott in his natural habitat. The thought gave her a sudden urge to adopt an Australian accent and invite a camera crew to document the experience. She waited for a bit, and when he didn’t answer she knocked again, louder this time. Again, there was no response. She stepped closer to the door to listen for sounds from inside. Nothing. She knocked on the door again and this time spoke loudly. “Scott, if you’re making me wait out here as some kind of weird show-her-who’s-boss thing, you’re really missing the mark.”

Finally the door swung open, and she was greeted by
a weary Dr. Scott as he walked away from her. “It was open,” he said gruffly.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll add mind reader to my list of skills to brush up on.” Scott plopped down on his couch and covered himself in a thick blanket. Lauren looked him over as she walked into his apartment. “You look like hell.”

Scott glared at her. Or at least she thought it was a glare. It lacked the ferocity she was sure he intended.

She continued toward him and sat in a chair next to the couch. “Did you take anything?”

“Are you really playing doctor with me right now?”

“Not if you’re going to be such a shitty patient,” she replied calmly. “I brought you your soup. Do you want any?”

“No,” Scott said as he closed his eyes and curved his body into the fetal position.

“Aren’t you supposed to keep your strength up?” she asked, unable to keep the slightly patronizing tone from her voice.

Scott’s eyes flew open. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the office working?”

“Nope. My boss lured me to his apartment so I could take care of him.”

“I somehow find that very hard to believe.” Scott winced suddenly, reflecting how much pain he was actually in. Once he seemed able to speak again, he continued. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’m fine.”

“Clearly.” She took a moment to take in his apartment. It was . . . expensive looking. The wall behind the couch was made up almost entirely of windows and offered a great view of Fort Taylor Park, a historic site in Falls Church. The brick wall behind where Lauren sat led
all the way to the exposed beam ceiling that betrayed this building’s original use as a factory of some sort. His dark-stained wood floors complemented his gray furniture and black accessories. It was very masculine-chic. When Lauren looked back to Scott, his eyes were shut again and his breathing had evened out. “Guess I’m great company,” Lauren muttered to herself as she set off for the kitchen. The apartment was an open-concept, the living room separated from the kitchen only by a breakfast bar with stools. She dropped the grocery bag that contained the soup, a couple lemon-lime Gatorades, and a liter of ginger ale on the granite countertop and began looking for a pot to boil water.

Ten minutes later, she was carrying a bowl of soup and a glass filled with ice and Gatorade into the living room. She set them on the coffee table and sat down on the edge of the couch beside him. Pushing his sweat-slicked hair back, she brushed her hand against his forehead again.

“It’s a crime to molest the unconscious.” Scott’s voice was weary.

“Well, since you’ve obviously developed a brain tumor overnight, I doubt I have to worry about you ratting me out.” Lauren let out a gentle sigh. “I made you soup. And brought you some Gatorade. Which do you want first?”

“Neither,” he muttered before dimming the lamp beside him.

“That wasn’t one of the choices.”

“I make my own choices.”

“Not today, you don’t,” Lauren informed him. “Gatorade it is. Sit up.”

Scott gripped the blanket tighter.

“Scott, stop being a baby. If you drink it like a good boy, I’ll give you a lollipop.” Lauren’s voice was playful, but her eyes were trained on him, letting him know that he wasn’t going to win, so he may as well give in.

“Ugh, fine.” Scott propped himself up on his forearm and took the glass from her. The exasperation in his voice didn’t faze Lauren in the least. He eyed her over the glass as he took a sip. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like anywhere other than here?”

“No, Doogie, I don’t. Now shut up and have some soup while you’re up.”

Scott swallowed a few spoonfuls before declaring that he was done and falling back onto the couch. He was asleep before Lauren could nag him to drink more. She watched him curl into himself again, a frown marring his beautiful face. Pulling the blanket up to his neck, she walked over to where she’d dropped her purse and fished out her phone. Looking briefly back at Scott, she typed a quick text to the girls, telling them that something came up and that she’d have to bail on the art exhibit that night. Thankfully, no one pressed her for details.

Then Lauren sat back in the chair she’d occupied earlier and settled in for a long night of watching Scott sleep.

*   *   *

Scott awoke and looked at his watch.
Shit, it’s almost midnight.
He didn’t remember much of the past twelve or so hours, probably because he slept through most of it. He vaguely remembered Lauren showing up and forcing Gatorade down his throat, but that was about the extent of it. He assumed she’d gone home hours ago, but a quick glance around the room proved otherwise. There she was, curled up on his oversized club chair, sleeping soundly.
He couldn’t resist staring at her for a minute, taking in how beautiful she was: her soft brown hair flowing over her shoulders, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the peaceful, almost angelic, look on her face. She’d taken care of him. Stayed with him on a Friday night so he wouldn’t be alone.
Who does that?
Though that answer was simple: the baffling, stubborn, intelligent, gorgeous girl sleeping in front of him. Before he could get carried away thinking about just how much he liked having her in his space, he sat up, rubbing his hands soothingly over his face. The movement made Lauren stir.

“Hey,” she murmured. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling a little better.” Scott rested his arms on his knees and raised his head to look at her. And as his eyes locked with her brilliant blue ones, he felt his breath catch slightly. “You stayed,” he said so softly he wasn’t even sure she heard him.

“You were really out of it. I didn’t want to leave you like that. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I never mind when you’re around, Lo. Thank you.” Scott wasn’t sure where the admission came from, but he was glad he’d uttered it, if for no other reason than it was the truth. But now that he’d put it out there, he was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “You’re the one who should mind. You probably had plans.” He started to get up.

“Nothing important. Do you need something? I can get it.”

“Nah, I’m just going to go to the bathroom and get some more medicine. Go back to sleep.”

Lauren nodded and closed her eyes again, settling back into the chair.

Once Scott was done in the bathroom, he wandered
back down the hallway. When he came to his bedroom, he thought about how it probably made more sense for him to sleep in there. He’d be able to stretch out on his bed
and
put some distance between him and Lauren. But as he walked into his room and grabbed the afghan from the foot of his bed, he realized that he didn’t want to be a room away from her. He carefully walked back into the living room, covered her with the afghan, and before he could talk himself out of it, placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, Lauren.”

*   *   *

As the morning sun streamed in through the windows and shone on Lauren’s pale skin, Scott decided she was simply too tempting. That’s the only excuse he could think of as he began leaving a hot trail of kisses down her exposed neck. He’d woken up an hour ago, feeling almost completely back to normal. He’d puttered around for a bit, brewed some coffee, taken a shower, and watched Lauren sleep. But now it was almost eight a.m., and he’d had enough watching.

Lauren grumbled, causing him to laugh softly as he kept up his assault. Pressing soft kisses to her smooth neck, then graduating to nipping and sucking when she refused to respond.

“Are you serious right now?” she finally groused. “Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“All better. And I have a debt to repay.”

“You can pay it later,” she groaned, still not opening her eyes as she tried to pull the blanket up higher.

“No can do. I am not one to put off until later what I can do right now.” He slipped a hand under the blanket and rubbed along her ribs.

It didn’t take long for Lauren to begin moving into his touch. And as a gentle moan left her mouth, he knew he had her. Her hands came up and pushed into his hair, the movement causing the blanket to fall into her lap. “Did you cover me last night?” she breathed.

“Yeah. Figured it was the least I could do. At least right at that moment. I can do a lot more now.” Scott sucked on her collarbone that was blessedly exposed, thanks to her tank top. “Is this what you wore to the office yesterday?”

“I had another shirt over it. But yeah. Why?”

“I was just thinking that I may need to change our dress code policy. This shirt gives me perfect access to your breasts,” he said as he nuzzled lower.