Chapter Six
C al ignored the zip of warmth as Deirdre’s soft, warm palm pressed against his. He ignored how perfectly their hands fit together. He ignored the curve of her full breasts under that silky, cream-colored blouse or the cute wiggle in her walk that those slacks showcased perfectly.
Ignored all of it. Because his was a business deal, born out of necessity. He had been driven to this decision by friends and family who had way too much free time. Technically, this farce was all their fault.
Technically, he and Deirdre weren’t really dating.
Technically, he had no feelings for Deirdre.
Damn it.
In medicine, he had learned early on to respect his patients when they described a sense of impending doom.
He had that same sense right now, settling heavy on his shoulders. Had he permanently altered a friendship of so many years, all for a self-serving lie?
If that was the case, so be it. This was a mutual decision with mutual benefit. Hey, Cal lived to be helpful to others.
He completed the handshake and eased back in the seat.
“So, how are we going to go about this… thing?” she said, her gaze sliding past his right ear to somewhere behind him.
Inappropriate answers, each one more sensual than the last, fast-forwarded through his mind.
Somehow, he focused and choked out, “An agreement. An informal verbal contract.”
Deirdre bit her lower lip, burning the image into his brain. A bolt of desire shot through him, and he shifted in his seat to manage his quickly changing anatomy.
“Go on,” she said, cheeks pink.
“We need terms. Rules.”
“You want me to get a pad and paper? We might need a notary public.” She took a few steps to her desk, returning with writing materials.
Cal laughed. “I think our handshake deal is solid.”
“I don’t know. How binding is this agreement? Do we need witnesses? I mean, you seem trustworthy enough.” She tilted her head and pushed her short hair behind both ears with a mischievous expression.
His abdomen tightened. He wanted to touch her pink cheeks and see if they were as warm as they appeared.
He curled his hand into a light fist. “Absolutely trustworthy. You can check my doctor ratings at RateYourDoc.com to verify. I also have references upon request. No malpractice claims either, knock on wood.”
“That’s medicine. This is dating. Maybe I should contact references?”
“In full disclosure, I don’t have a real extensive history on the résumé when it comes to dating.” He wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. Busy schedules made for limited relationships.
Guilt about his best friend and years of conflicted feelings about his high school crush didn’t help his dating activity. No partner had ever come close to Deirdre-level quality. At least, not the ideal version of Deirdre he’d created in his mind years ago. He had added layers to the iconic image as memories blurred. The person he envisioned now was darn near untouchable in a competition with any other woman.
Deirdre tapped the pen, making small blue marks on the pad. She didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“We’re making an informed decision, weighing out the risks versus benefits.” He took a fortifying sip of coffee. “I sure as heck don’t want to play twenty uncomfortable questions about how I should be seeing someone. Not on every shift, and not with my parents.”
“I understand completely.” She heaved in a big breath and rolled her lips. “Then let’s do this. Ground rules? Terms?”
Rubbing his chin with his index finger, he said, “First of all, we have to sell the scenario. We’re already under a microscope. If there’s any doubt in our sincerity, then the social examination is going to get worse, not better. I don’t want to give Mom and Pop too much to chew on.”
“What do you mean by sell ?” she asked.
His gaze studied her slender neck as she swallowed. Was she affected by him like he was by her? No way.
“We should incorporate the Breakup Festival into our plans,” he said.
“Agreed. That will calm the rabid hordes of matchmakers. How about… going out one day per week and attending the Breakup Festival together.”
“That feels too light,” he said. He wanted to spend more time with her. This contract gave him a great excuse. “No one’s going to buy it. Not around here. They’re like starving dogs spotting a bone.” He smiled at her involuntary snort. If only he could bottle that happiness and sell it. Or save it for future times when he needed it. “We have to go all-in.” He looked up at the tiled ceiling, then back to Deirdre.
Her chest rose and fell. “What do you think it will take?”
No way was he touching the real answer trying to claw its way out of his chest. “How about two casual but intentionally public dates-slash-outings each week and then attending the Breakup Festival and dance together?” He expected to be heading back to Seattle shortly after the festival, so the timing would work.
“I could fit that into my calendar. How about you?” she asked with a tentative but game grin.
How the hell am I having this conversation? The stagecoach horses are stampeding away without anyone at the reins.
Calvin wiped a sweaty palm on his scrub pants. “Yes. I will manage two dates per week until the Breakup Festival.”
She laughed out loud again. “I mean, if it’s going to be a hardship…”
The hardship wouldn’t be the dating part. Not with Deirdre.
It would be the not-dating part.
He considered his coffee, wishing it contained something to better fortify his courage. “Let me do a teach-back communication technique.”
“Again with the learning modules. Seriously?” Deirdre waved her fingers. “Fine. Go on with demonstrating your patient communication skills, which in turn will increase your Press-Ganey scores.”
“My Press-Ganey scores reflect on the institutions that I serve. It is in everyone’s best interest for those scores to be high.”
“I don’t know how you can keep a straight face, but I’m all ears.”
He pressed his hand against the table. “Ahem. Here’s what I am hearing from our conversation. Please let me know if I have misunderstood anything.”
Her brows rose. “You bet I will.”
He held up index and middle fingers. “We have agreed to have two dates per week”—then the thumb of the other hand—“for one month. Then a grand finale date at the Breakup Festival.”
“Financial considerations?”
“I’ll pay for the dates.”
“But—”
“We have to make it look good. People will talk if we split costs.”
“I can pay you back.”
“I’m pretty sure my credit card can handle the burden of an extra mouth to feed.”
“Now I’m a burden?” Even as she narrowed her gaze, her blue eyes twinkled.
The words left him before he could stop them. “You are anything but a burden.”
Uncomfortable silence was punctuated by an overhead page for environmental services to the med-surg unit. He and Deirdre waited until the page repeated three times, per hospital protocol.
His heart thundered against his ribs. “Let’s talk about actionable items.”
“Sorry?” Something in that wide-eyed expression… he couldn’t stop staring.
“We need to act like we’re dating.”
“Not while we’re working,” she interjected.
“We can be casual and friendly at work. Appropriate. Nothing overt. But we can make it look good in other venues. How about PG-rated PDA during those two dates a week?”
“Define PG-rated.”
For a solid ten seconds, he could only come up with R-rated or higher examples that made him want to lick and nibble her neck and lips. He wanted to kiss and paw at her like the voracious non-boyfriend he was.
He shook his head, trying to loosen those ideas. “We will proceed as though we’ve never dated anyone before, ever. Start with gazes, handholding, and hugs. We can consider a public kiss in the moment, if we agree on it and if we need a witness.”
“For the sake of pretense.”
“Of course.”
“I can get on board with that.”
Cal couldn’t. Proximity to Deirdre was dangerous. Period.
She leaned forward, providing a hint of shadow between her breasts that tempted him to imagine more. “Topics of dating conversation?” she asked. “Are there any relationship progress benchmarks we need to achieve? Metrics?”
“You’re such an administrator. Next you’ll want me to use evidence-based communication in fake-dating.” He went still and stared at her.
Deirdre’s eyes glinted. “Don’t worry. We won’t use AIDET customer service training in our dating life!”
“Really? Could be fun.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, deep in contemplation. “All right. Appearances count more than anything. Given that we’re not in this for the long haul, I vote no deep topics. No probing questions.”
“Light and breezy sounds great to me!”
“Then we break up after the festival with no hard feelings, and I return to my regular life in Seattle. You go on about your business, secure in the fact that you both satisfied and thwarted the devious local matchmakers.” His stomach clenched.
The frown and droop to her lips lasted a split second.
This was what they both wanted. Wasn’t it?
“Works for me.” It was impressive how Deirdre had mastered the art of remaining objective and neutral.
Cal hoped he also had that skill right about now. “Do we shake on it or… hug on it?” He stood up when she did.
Deirdre seemed to freeze for a moment, her hands gripping the edge of the table. After a pause, she said, “Well, we have to start somewhere.”
“How about we practice the PG-rated PDA?” Cal extended his arms to the side.
Deirdre took a few steps to meet him, sliding her arms around him with such a light touch, that at first, he questioned whether she even made contact. He put his arms around her. Tender. Friendly. His heartrate spiked. The gentle press of her frame that tucked perfectly against his shifted something in his brain. They fit too well.
He inhaled deeply her light floral and crisp linen scent. Some things never changed.
Every muscle in his body relaxed. Her presence did that to him.
Damn it, this could turn out to be a terrible decision.