2. Lizzie
2
LIZZIE
I don’t know where I summon the courage to speak up before he does. Perhaps it’s that sensation in my chest, the fear that staying quiet or waiting for him to initiate the conversation will be a regret that will haunt me later. Perhaps it’s the deep coolness of his eyes, concealing something both peculiar and strangely familiar.
“Oh, hi,” I say. “You must be…the doc.”
He glances over at me and arches a brow. “Hi. And yes, I am.”
Oh my stars. His voice! It’s deep, captivating, and carries a distinct velvety masculine quality.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, giving him one of my dazzling smiles. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
He studies me for a moment, clearly giving me the once-over. “Actually…I just sat down.” He still has his phone in his hand, which I think is a little rude but decide to ignore it.
“Good. Traffic wasn’t what I expected. Can I get you a drink, or have you already ordered one?”
“The latter.” He’s staring at me strangely as he speaks, almost as if he’s trying to figure out where he knows me from.
My stomach sinks.
Why is he looking at me funny?
I hope and pray he isn’t a patron of the club. The last thing I want is to be set up with one of my customers. Oddly enough, there is something familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Do you want to stay here at the bar, or do you want to get a table?” I ask, crossing my legs so the hem of my dress rides up just a smidge— oops, okay, maybe more than a smidge. (Oh well, not exactly hating it).
Normally, I’m not so forward on first dates, especially blind ones, but he’s so far from your usual date, I can’t help myself. I watch his eyes follow the movement, then lift back up. When his gaze meets mine, I detect a spark of interest, but there’s also a hint of reservation.
“I hate to have to tell you this,” he says, “but I think you have me confused with someone else.”
“I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself,” I reply, realizing my blunder. “I’m Lizzie.”
He nods politely. “Pleasure to meet you, Lizzie. Yet I’m still pretty sure there’s been a mix-up.”
“I’m Mrs. Loughty’s neighbor.” When he doesn’t react to the name, I frown, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I gesture to his pocket square. “Aren’t you Linda’s son? The doctor? You said you were a doctor. We’re supposed to have a blind date…”
“Well, I am a doctor. But I don’t think I am the doctor you’re supposed to meet.”
Just then, the door of the restaurant opens, and I glance over to see a man enter. He’s tall and thin, with downy red hair, and a suit that’s too big for him. Somehow, he thought the lime-green tie would work well with his red hair.
He’s talking loudly on his cell phone, absentmindedly scratching at the reddish beard on his chin.
Shit! There it is, right in his suit pocket: a haphazardly folded red silk pocket square.
Oh, no.
Oh, hell no.
The mysterious man by my side shifts his attention in the direction I’m looking. He must have seen the red square because he chuckles. “I take it that’s your blind date. What are the chances of two doctors wearing an identical pocket square in the same restaurant at the same time?”
“Yeah, I’m betting on slim to none.”
I take a chance to peek in his direction again. Heart sinking, I watch Doctor H squint my way, before looking at his phone again. He seems to be checking something over, shifting his gaze between the phone and me.
I should have known that fate wouldn’t be kind to me.
For a brief moment, I entertain the idea of turning to the handsome stranger and suggesting we pretend that we’re dating.
It’s a flawless plan. Just a tad ludicrous.
I observe Dr. Actual-Date’s gaze ping-pong between me and Dr. Wrong-Date, landing back on me.
I turn to the stranger and sink one last time into the depths of his gaze. I want to say something semi-funny like “Ha, wrong target!” or “Unexpected plot twist!” or “That was the shortest blind date of my life,” but I can’t get around to it.
A heart-stopping flash of determination in his eyes is the only warning I get.
He cups the back of my neck and pulls me into a kiss.
All thoughts fly out the window.
Dear God.
His lips are soft and hot.
He tastes like black coffee, hot male, sin, and—matching the sea in his eyes—a little bit salty. His curious tongue licks the inside of my mouth as I lean into him, encouraged by his hand on the back of my neck holding me. His thumb strokes my hairline, tender and firm and with just the right amount of pressure. Heat shoots into my lap and spreads like wildfire. It’s like he’s stroking right over my clit. I’m wet within seconds, my abdomen clenching half in pleasure, half in pain as his kiss grows more urgent.
Whimpering in the back of my throat, I clutch the front of his jacket, curling my fingers around the soft and at the same time firm material. Not because I’m interested in the quality of the fabric—I need support. His kiss makes me dizzy with a kind of want I didn’t even know existed.
When we draw away from each other, I swear I see stars. He leans in close, his breath ghosting across the shell of my ear as he whispers, “I would say I’m sorry for chasing him away, but I’m not.”
I’m so lost in the tingling sensations traveling throughout my entire body , I’ve got no idea who he’s talking about. “Who?”
His eyes never leave mine as he nods over my shoulder, and I peer back to see that my actual date has slunk away in defeat.
“Oh, right. Oh, my.” My head is still spinning, and it’s suddenly extremely warm in here. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I couldn’t help it,” Dr. Kiss-Me-Senseless growls.
One moment.
Those words…the tone in which he says them… I can’t stop my mind from racing, but it isn’t just because of the desire-inducing kiss or because I stood up the other guy. It’s because of the memory it seems to jog. “We’ve done this before.”
The doctor arches his brow curiously. “Have we?”
We have. I’m sure of it. I nod, still racking my brain. “I’m sure I’ve heard this ‘reason’ before, and I swear we’ve kissed before—oh, my God.”
It hits me like a freight train. Dillan Maxwell.
“Dillan?” I ask.
Hazy memories from my teenage years come flooding back: seeing him from across the room and feeling the little butterflies in my tummy. The celebration. The flirting. His arm around me. Us snuggling on the couch.
Dillan was my first crush and my first kiss. It had been so long since I’d thought of that particular memory, but our kiss had awakened sensations in me I’ve only ever experienced then. We never had sex or officially dated. But we had a ton of fun, just chilling at parties or other social events.
By the expression on his face, I can tell it takes him longer to remember me. I’m not surprised, though—I’ve changed since high school. A lot .
It’s entertaining to witness the moment when it finally clicks.
Dillan’s cool exterior cracks ever so slightly. His eyes widen to nearly twice their size, and his mouth falls open slightly. “Wait… Lizzie ? Is that really you?”
I smile brightly. “In the flesh.”
“Good grief.”
“Yup.”
He observes me intently for a few long moments. “How did we not recognize each other right away?”
“Poor lighting.”
“Apparently so.” He shamelessly scans me from head to toe again. “You’ve changed.”
He makes it sound as if I looked like a mess back then. Which, honestly, I did. I used to have thick glasses, hair that screamed “no style,” and I was pretty chubby—and definitely not dressed like that.
“Right back at you. Wait, so when did you return to New York? Are you going to stay?”
“Yep, that’s the plan. I found a great place, and I’m glad to be back. I always wanted to return someday. The city has a certain energy, a rhythm that’s hard to find elsewhere. Besides, being closer to family and old friends has its perks. It’s like coming full circle. So, here I am, ready for the next chapter.”
The evening is already weird, and yet somehow, it has gotten weirder, but in the best possibly way. Regardless, I’m much more comfortable catching up with an old friend than having an awkward dinner with a stranger (a debt my guilty conscience insists I’ll need to repay somehow). Whatever anxiety I was experiencing before immediately melts away.
“Glad to hear it. Anyhow. Sorry I interrupted your evening,” I apologize.
He smiles that crooked grin I’d loved back then. “I’m not. Sorry, I mean.”
His response is a bit cheeky, but try as I might, I can’t resist returning his smile. “If I remember correctly, you said almost the same thing to my father.”
Dillan lets out a mock groan. “We were finally alone in your room, and what happens? Your dad storms in, catching us in the act, demanding to know why the hell I’m kissing my girl.”
I was his girl ? “And you said,” I chime in, “ because I couldn’t help it .” We both laugh. “Then you got up?—”
“Which was the bravest act of my life, by the way,” Dillan interjects.
“…and bravely faced the wrath of my father. ‘I have no regrets,’ you said.”
“Because I didn’t.”
I choke back tears. It’s one of the most intense memories of my life, and reliving those moments makes my heart feel lighter than it has in ages. “You took all the blame and even claimed that you talked me into that kiss.” Which, after a single glance at my blissful face, my father didn’t buy for a second.
Dillan’s eyes glide over my face, then sharpen.
With a tilt of his head, he leans in, gently cups my cheeks, and his breath brushes my lips. I’m absolutely certain he’ll kiss me again, and this time, I’m ready for it.
Someone in the immediate vicinity clears their throat. It’s the bartender.
Slowly, Dillan straightens up, with a touch of reluctance in his movement. I notice that he hasn’t drained his glass yet. His eyes meet mine, silently inquiring about my drink preference. Heat has crept into my cheeks, and without a doubt, my face is flushed.
I respond with a smile, “I’d love a glass of wine.”
I’m surprised that after all these years Dillan can still make me blush. Or maybe I’m blushing because we’ve been caught red-handed once again, this time by the bartender instead of my father.
“A glass of red wine for the lady,” Dillan orders. “Bring the best you have.”
The bartender nods curtly. “Another Scotch, signore?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very good, signore.” The bartender sounds like an Italian trying his hand at English butler and has successfully brought us back to the present.
It’s one thing to be on stage in a breath of nothingness and dance a professionally seductive choreography; hoping for another kiss with Dillan while experiencing the skill and artistry of a grown man is something else entirely. Even though I’m fully dressed, I feel like my whole body is on fire. Dillan has always been handsome, but now he’s downright breathtaking.
Just as my eyes wander off to his lips, my phone buzzes. It’s Pippa’s rescue call. Instead of assuring her with an immediate “Oh no, Mum, I’ll be right there,” I find myself chirping “Thanks, I’ll text you later, Mu…I mean, Pippa.”
Just as I hang up, the bartender slides a glass of wine in front of me, saying, “Signorina, here’s your wine. Enjoy.” With a nod, he quietly retreats to the other end of the bar.
“To unexpected reunions,” Dillan proposes and lifts his Scotch.
Only too eagerly, I clink my wine glass against his. “To the twists of fate.”
He quirks a brow, placing his glass to a pair of full, delectable lips I want to kiss again. Worship. Lick. Suck. Okay, my mind has decided to head straight to gutter. Clearing the metaphorical cobwebs from my head, I take a sip before putting the delicious wine back down.
“So, what have you been up to all these years?” I ask.
“Getting a doctorate.”
I smile. “Oh, right. Hence the whole doctor thing.”
“Exactly, fully committed to the medical profession,” he says, a twinkle in his eyes. “What about you? What do you do?”
There’s no way I can drop the “I’m a dancer in a burlesque club that was an infamous strip joint not too long ago” bomb on Dr. Dillan Maxwell.
“I dance,” I say with an innocent shrug.
He nudges me with his elbow. “Hey, that’s great! In the theatre or on Broadway? That’s what you wanted to do, right?”
“That’s right, I did. I can’t believe you remember that.”
I’ve wiggled myself out of telling him the truth. But for a moment, I imagine telling him I’m an exotic dancer with pasties on my nipples, parading around in a glittering thong with ostrich feathers on my naked ass, just to observe the expression on his face. It would be priceless .
But no, now is certainly not the time.
“You’re a hard woman to forget. Wow. A dancer. That’s amazing. I’m not surprised. You were always headstrong and determined.”
That’s what I had to be to become a dancer with a curvy figure like mine. Even as a teenager it was clear to everyone—including me—that I’d never have the boyish figure of a classic prima ballerina. It had been hard not to despair.
“Flatterer,” I say with a playful grin.
Dillan shakes his head, expression firm. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”
He’s always been a smooth talker, and that clearly hasn’t changed. If anything, combined with his good looks it’s more intense. He was attractive before, but the older he’s gotten, the more handsome he’s become. It’s not just his muscular physique—his features have sharpened up. Those expressive eyes of his now hold the gaze of a man who always gets what he wants.
Here and now, he wants me.
“Probably not, but I’m still going to call it that,” I declare. “So, aside from being a big hot-shot doctor—what else do you have going on?”
I’m determined not to come across as a shy schoolgirl with a crush, like I did when we first hung out in high school. I remember being a babbling, rambling mess back then. Yet, while I am experiencing a sudden degree of nervousness about reconnecting with Dillan, it isn’t nearly as bad as it was all those years ago.
“Well, besides the ‘big hot-shot doctor gig,’ I’ve been delving into advanced training in my medical field, tiptoeing on the precarious edge of the ever-evolving healthcare landscape. And, of course, the ongoing quest to find the perfect Scotch—because even hot-shots need their preferred spirits.” His tone carries a hint of amusement, and I can’t help but laugh. “Weekends are all about the roar of motorcycle engines. Got a few buddies here in New York who share the same love for the open road. We meet up, ride, and let the wind sort out the rest. Other than that, work keeps me pretty busy, especially with the move and all the extra responsibilities.”
“Where have you been this whole time?” I absently toy with the rim of my glass.
“A couple of different places. Practiced in South Africa for a couple of months, then in the UK, then moved to Tennessee. Right now, I work at a joint clinic with a few other doctors.” He pauses for a moment, taking another good look at me. “I take it you’re not seeing anyone?”
My heart skips a beat.
“I was, but we broke up recently. What about you?” I feign casualness, hoping my eagerness to know doesn’t seep through. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Are you married?” I ask, maybe a bit too quickly.
He shakes his head. “No, not married. No kids.”
A flicker of happiness dances in my thoughts. No ring, no kids . This just got interesting.
“Why no kids?” I ask after taking another sip of wine.
“Ah, the eternal question. Honestly, never wanted kids for some reason. Not that I don’t appreciate the idea of a family, but I’ve always been engrossed in my medical career. It’s demanding, and I love the sense of purpose it gives me. As for kids, I believe in giving them the time and attention they deserve, and my focus is on my patients.” A glint of sincerity shines in his eyes. “Plus, I value the quiet moments of serenity when I’m not at the hospital. It’s a lifestyle choice, really. I’m content with where I am now.” He casts a lingering gaze, his eyes sparkling with a depth that goes beyond words. I don’t even try to play it cool. I’m captivated by the authenticity in his gaze. It kind of feels like I don’t have to pretend to Dillan, and that feels good. “Enough about me. I want to hear more about you . How have you been?”
“Also busy. But I’ve got to say, today has definitely been a highlight for me,” I admit. “In all honesty, I really appreciate you getting me out of that date, although I would have gone through with it.”
“No problem,” Dillan says, and finishes his whisky. “Of course, as a savior of the damsel in distress, I get three wishes as a reward.”
“Ha! You’ve got it all mixed up.” I smack his arm playfully. “First, only fairy godmothers grant three wishes, and I’m definitely not a fairy godmother. Second, if anything, I’m a self-rescuing princess.” I pause dramatically, enjoying the twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. “However, since today was the most unexpected night in ages, I might just grant your three wishes...or maybe I won’t.”
“Oh, it’s inevitable.” He raises a brow, challenge in his features, then he winks at me. It’s the cutest wink I’ve ever seen. His lashes are long, thick, dark, and I’m pretty sure I feel my nipples perk up. Clearly, my excitement over the evening’s possibilities has reached a new high.
“Bold assumption, Doc.”
“It’s as good as done.”
I trace the rim of my glass with my fingertips. “All right then—what do you have in mind?”
“Let’s see.” His eyes lock with mine. “For my first wish, I want to create a new memory with you. One that we’ll both cherish…deeply.”
If my nipples weren’t already standing at attention, they would be now. The lilt in his husky voice leaves little room for misinterpretation.
Leaning in closer, I align my body alongside his, asking, “How about we have another round and you tell me about your other two wishes?”
His head moves closer, his cheek grazing my ear and an electric thrill shoots through me. My heart races with a mix of excitement and anticipation.
“Or we can get out of here instead,” he rumbles.
The suggestion hangs in the air for a moment, sizzling hot.
When he straightens, his eyes burn into mine.
An electric charge passes between us.
Moisture seeps into my panties.
I try my best not to leap up and break into a happy dance on top of the bar. My internal voice is screaming, “Yes, yes! A thousand times, yes!” (Phew, my internal voice is a hooker and a half tonight.) And yet, I don’t answer right away.
I’m a lady.
I take a few seconds to appreciate the moment.
I want to commit everything to memory.
It isn’t every day that you sit there with damp panties after accidentally meeting up with your high school crush who, who, let’s be real, is more swoon-worthy now than all the Johnny Castles, Tony Maneros, Ren McCormacks, and my other youth idols combined. Not only that, but judging by that kiss , he seems as interested in me as I am in him.
He must have read the answer in my eyes because Dillan pulls out his wallet and slips a few bills on the table.
“You’re probably one of the few men who know where the clit is.”
Jeez. I really hope I didn’t say that out loud.
“Oh, I know where it is.”
Flashing me that knee-buckling smile, he slides off the stool. He extends his muscular arm when I stand, and with a thrill of excitement, I link mine around his.
As he leads me from the restaurant, he places a strong hand over mine, and I’m suddenly extremely glad I agreed to that blind date. Mrs. Loughty, you’re a gem!