Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
LUKE
It’s all I can do not to confront them as they walk out of the restaurant.
I vowed I wouldn’t come to Mickey’s to spy on Austin and Melissa.
It’s a bit pathetic and desperate—okay, very pathetic and desperate, which is why I vowed I wouldn’t do it.
I was going to go to the gym. Walk along the lake and watch the sunset by myself.
Watch a hockey game, drink beer, and eat Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
Anything but think about Melissa and Austin.
But despite my good intentions, I couldn’t keep my mind off the fact that Austin was taking Melissa out.
Which is why I wound up at Mickey’s, resisting the attentions of two undergrads while trying not to stare at Austin and Melissa.
Tortured myself watching her smile and laugh with my friend, and wondered if Austin ordered pickles on his hamburger.
If I were a better person, I’d have warned him that Melissa hates pickles.
If he kisses her with pickle breath, she won’t enjoy it.
Then Melissa’s mom showed up to complete the farce, and we both pretended not to stare at Melissa and Austin. Who are now walking past me out of the restaurant, looking like a very cozy couple.
Melissa can’t go home with Austin. All the confusion of the past few weeks—the Medical Board rules, the fact that Melissa’s on the rebound, the way our relationship ended—seems to crystallize into one simple fact. Melissa can’t go home with Austin, because Melissa belongs to me.
But I can’t confront them here, in a restaurant, in front of Melissa’s mother.
I still can’t believe Mrs. Lawrence had the nerve to show up here tonight.
She was always in our business when Melissa and I were in high school, and it drove me mad then too, but I could understand it.
Melissa was a teenage girl, I was a teenage boy, and I was thinking exactly what Mrs. Lawrence feared I was.
But there’s no excuse for crashing Melissa’s date when she’s a thirty-one-year-old woman with kids of her own.
Then again, I can hardly claim the moral high ground, since I’ve done the same thing. But it feels different for me somehow.
Because Melissa belongs to me.
I glance down at my phone and pretend to read a message, then give Mrs. Lawrence an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m on call. I have to go in to the hospital.”
It’s a lie and she knows it, but she plays along. “I should get going, too.”
“Right.” Damn. Now I’ll have to walk her to her car.
The bartender finally brings the bill, which I barely glance at before tapping my card to pay.
I walk Mrs. Lawrence outside, and—finally a piece of luck—find that her car is parked right in front of the restaurant.
As she says goodbye, she gives me a wink that tells me she knows I’m going after her daughter.
As I hustle to my car, I scan the street for Melissa and Austin, but there’s no sign of either them or his BMW.
But I’m pretty sure Melissa has the kids this weekend, so they’re probably at her house with a babysitter.
If he’s taking her to her place, the night will probably end with a goodnight kiss in the car.
But if he’s taking her to his condo. . .
If he’s taking her to his condo I know just how the night will end. How could it not, with the way Melissa looks tonight? Bee-stung lips, lush curves, eyes a man could drown in . . . And she looked like she was into Austin, too.
I jump in my car and head for Austin’s building.
My building, too, I guess, but right now my attention is focused on Austin’s unit, and whether he and Melissa have made it there already.
They were less than five minutes ahead of me, so I should get there before anything happens.
He’ll offer her a drink, maybe put on a movie.
Or will he? I’m sure Austin would usually behave like a gentleman, but with the way Melissa looks tonight . . . If I were in his place, I’d carry her straight to my bedroom.
I glance at the speedometer and realize I’m over the speed limit by quite a lot, so I force myself to ease off the gas pedal.
At last, I whip into my parking garage, and yep, Austin’s BMW is already in his spot. I park and jog toward the elevator, but stop as I pass Austin’s car. Austin and Melissa are still sitting in the BMW.
Melissa opens the passenger door and steps out.
Her eyes are huge, but it’s not with surprise—it’s almost as though she expected me to show up.
But her eyes are nervous and hopeful and beautiful, and I’m tempted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the elevator.
I’ll take her to my own condo, away from Austin, who’s clearly wrong for her.
Shit. I’m not a caveman, but there’s something about this girl.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. As though there’s nothing unusual about interrupting her while she’s on a date with another man. I glance at Austin to see how he’s taking this, but he looks more amused than annoyed.
“Yeah,” Melissa replies. “You got my text?”
“What? No.” I pull out my phone and see that she sent a message ten minutes ago. I was so distracted, I must not have heard the ping of the phone.
Melissa: Can we talk? Austin’s taking me to your condo
I meet her eyes again, trying to read what this is about, but the answer isn’t clear. She wouldn’t have asked to meet just to call me out for showing up at her date? To tell me that she and Austin are together now, and I need to butt out?
“Yeah.” My throat is dry, and it comes out hoarse. “I’ll take you up.”
I nod to Austin, who has the tact to stay in his car, and lead Melissa toward the elevator. She’s careful to keep a couple feet of space between us. It’s almost as though she knows that if she lets me touch her, I might not let her go.
The elevator ride seems to last forever, as does the walk down the hall to my door. Finally, I’m closing the door behind us, and we’re inside. Alone.
“Nice place,” Melissa says. Her tongue darts out and licks her lower lip. I know it’s a nervous gesture, but it’s still mesmerizing.
“Melissa.” I step toward her, but she moves away.
“No, Luke.” She crosses her arms across her chest, pushing up her lovely breasts. “If you touch me I won’t be able to think.”
I want to take her in my arms and show her that thinking’s overrated, but I force myself to take a step back. To hold my hands up, palms forward, to show her I’m backing off. “Okay.”
Melissa takes a deep breath. “What is this, Luke? Some alpha male possessive thing? You don’t want me yourself, but you can’t stand to think that another man might?”
“You think I don’t want you?” I blurt incredulously. “Melissa—”
“What am I supposed to think?” she interrupts.
“When Claire was in the ER, you acted like we were strangers. And I understood, Luke! After the way we broke up, it was what I deserved. But the night she was sick in the ICU, you arranged for your mom to watch Liam, and read to me until I fell asleep. I thought maybe you’d forgiven me. ”
“Melissa—”
“Then I asked if you wanted to meet for coffee, and you said no,” she says.
“Because I’d just operated on your daughter, Melissa!
There are rules against dating a patient, or a patient’s mother.
Claire was better and you were grateful, and it would have been wrong to take advantage of that.
Not to mention it could’ve gotten me in trouble with the Medical Board.
” I push out a sigh. “I was trying to follow the rules.”
She nods slowly, and I can tell she never thought about this. I probably should have explained it weeks ago.
“But the phone calls?”
“I convinced myself that was different.”
“Different,” she repeats. “Luke, that last time, I thought we were going to have phone sex!”
I can’t suppress a chuckle. “I was hoping for it, yeah.”
An indignant flush creeps up Melissa’s cheeks. “But then a woman showed up at your door!”
“What?”
The shock in my voice makes her pause.
“I heard a woman’s voice at your door,” she insists, but she looks a little less sure of herself now. I’m confused for a minute—no one would mistake Ethan’s voice for a woman’s—until I realize she must have heard Janine.
“That was my neighbor. My friend Ethan—Dr. Atwell, you met him at the hospital—knocked on Janine’s door instead of mine, so she walked him over.”
“Oh,” she says softly. “When I met Sloane at your hockey game, I assumed it was her.”
“Milly, I broke up with Sloane two months ago.”
“Oh.” She looks up at me as though she wants to believe it, but she’s still not fully convinced. “She said she was your girlfriend.”
“She was, and she wanted to get back together, but I shut that down real quick. Didn’t even consider it, and you know why, Milly?”
She shakes her head slowly. Her eyes, those beautiful big eyes, are round and wide, and I can’t resist anymore. I take a step toward her, then another until I’m only inches from her face.
“Because you’re the only woman I can think about.”
Her mouth falls open in an O of surprise.
“I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you in the ER,” I admit.
“And the rules?” she asks softly. “The Medical Board?”
“It’s been long enough. Claire’s recovered, and I’m not treating her anymore. The Medical Board won’t care.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” The truth is, I’m not entirely sure—the rules are so stupidly vague. But I am sure I don’t care what the Medical Board thinks. If they want to try to discipline me for this, I’ll deal with it.
Melissa takes the last step, the one that closes the distance between us. Before I know what’s happening, her arms are around my neck and she’s pressing her lips into mine.
I’ve wanted this for so long that my body responds automatically. There’s no finesse to this kiss; it’s wet and rude and delicious. I haven’t kissed a girl this way since I was a teenager. Since I was kissing Melissa.
I pull her into me, savoring the feel of her breasts against my chest. My hands drift lower, cupping the curve of her ass. Her breath hitches as I pull her core against my cock.
“Couch,” I mutter, because the bedroom seems too far away, and we stumble toward the couch together.
My hand slips under her top, caressing the soft skin of her belly.
When I first saw her sweater, I thought it was a work of art, the way it clung to her curves.
Now it seems like a travesty, because it’s keeping me from Melissa.
The sweater needs to go, and I tug it upwards—
“Stop!” Melissa blurts.
The urgency in her tone stills my hands before my brain can even process what’s going on. A moment ago, she seemed as into this as I was—hell, she kissed me—but now she’s pulling away, and I’m damned if I know what changed.
“Okay.” I take a step away from her and sit on the couch, trying to show her I’m willing to take this at whatever pace she wants.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, tugging her sweater back down.
She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor as she moves to the far side of the sofa.
Sits down in the corner, as far from me as she can get while still sharing the same piece of furniture.
It’s almost like she’s never done this before, which is ridiculous.
I know she’s done this before, because she’s done it with me.
But ten years have passed since we were together, and a lot can happen in that time.
“Did someone hurt you?” I have to fight to keep my voice even, because the thought of someone hurting my girl triggers a swell of rage in my chest.
“No!” she exclaims. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Okay.” Some of my tension eases. “Okay. I didn’t mean to push you too fast, Milly. We don’t have to do anything unless you want to.”
“I want to!” she blurts. “I’m just afraid . . . “
Her voice is so soft I have to strain to hear. “Afraid of what, Milly?”
“Afraid you’ll be disappointed if you see me naked.”