THE MONDAY AFTER the gala dawned clear and warm, a typically beautiful Florida day, but Nychelle had to drag herself out of bed. Yawning prodigiously, she contemplated whether to forgo her usual yoga workout. She thought she’d slept fairly well, once she’d actually got her brain to shut up long enough for her to doze off, but her bone-deep weariness seemed to indicate otherwise. Pushing herself to exercise seemed the right thing to do, and she felt somewhat revived by the time she got into her car to go to work.
Yet in the back of her mind the events of Saturday night kept swirling, just as they had all Sunday. It seemed as though her brain was caught in a loop, replaying the kiss she’d shared with David over and over. And every time she thought about it waves of hot and cold chased each other through her body.
Oh, she had no doubt he regretted it had happened; he’d made that crystal-clear with his reaction and the cold way he’d told her to forget it. That was good advice. She just wished she could follow it as easily as she’d agreed to do so.
Besides, she must have been crazy, giving in to his kisses like that. There was no room in her life for that kind of nonsense—especially with a man who seemed able to turn off his emotions so easily. Just because he hadn’t made any attempt to impress her parents didn’t mean she could trust him. Getting burned by Nick was more than enough embarrassment for one lifetime.
As she made the turn off the highway a couple blocks from the office she realized she was grinding her teeth, and forced herself to stop. By the end of the day the entire building would know she had gone to the gala with Dr. Heat. If she wanted to retain any sanity she was going to have to convince everyone they were just friends, even with the memory of his embrace refusing to go away.
After climbing out of the car at the office, she slammed the door closed a little harder than was strictly necessary.
Gina, of course, cornered her almost before Nychelle had a chance to put on her lab coat.
“You sneaky thing, you. I heard you were at the FMA gala with Dr. Heat. Why didn’t you mention you were going on a date with him?”
Nychelle pulled her head out of the supply locker to give the other woman a bland look. “It wasn’t a date—more of a mutual favor. He didn’t have anyone to go with, and neither did I.” Then she smiled, which at least came naturally. “You should have seen my mother’s face when I walked in with him. That was definitely worth the price of admission.”
Gina looked disappointed, but then perked up again almost immediately. “Did he make a pass at you?”
“Nah.” Thank goodness she’d gone back to gathering the samples her office was low on, so Gina couldn’t see her face. “He was a perfect gentleman.”
The sound Gina made was filled with a mixture of disapproval and disappointment, and it made Nychelle snicker. Then the receptionist moved a little closer, and whispered, “That’s crazy. Do you think he’s gay?”
“What? No!” Nychelle glared at the other woman. “I’m sure he isn’t. It’s just that...” She remembered how David had convinced her to go with him, and grabbed onto the words like a lifeline. “We work together. It was more like...um...carpooling than anything else.”
“Huh.” Gina tossed her head. “Well, I guess it’s not a bad thing, really, that he behaved himself. But, sheesh, I’d have thought—”
“You’re too much for me this morning, girl.” Nychelle forced a laughing tone into her voice, thankful there were only a few more minutes before the clinic officially opened. “I’ve got to get going.”
Gina glanced at her watch. “Gosh, yes. Me too.”
Nychelle sighed as the receptionist walked away. Hopefully the rest of the day wasn’t going to be more of the same.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected—mainly because the clinic was so busy. Which was why she was so surprised to notice that all the appointments after three o’clock were gone from her schedule. When she buzzed through to the medical office assistant who handled her schedule she was told Dr. Hamatty’s assistant had called down and asked for it to be done, and couldn’t stop a little spurt of anxiety.
“Did she say why?”
“No, Nurse Cory. She just said there was to be a meeting at three Dr. H. wanted you involved in, and told me to clear you for the rest of the day.”
Unusual, but she refused to get herself worked up until she knew there was a good reason for it. “Where’s the meeting?”
“In your office.”
The woman sounded harried, and Nychelle could hear phones ringing in the background. The questions flying around in her head would just have to wait, apparently.
“Okay, Marion. Has my next patient arrived yet?”
By two-forty-five her last patient had left and Nychelle had entered her notes into the records system, which gave her plenty of time before the meeting. More than enough to have her once more wondering what it was all about.
Encircling her right wrist with the fingers of her left hand, she convulsively twisted it back and forth—a nervous habit she’d had from when she was a young child. Why was she so on edge? Lauderlakes was a busy, vibrant place, and special projects and situations arose all the time. There really was no need to be this tense about an unexpected meeting, but she’d been as jumpy as a flea since the gala.
Telling herself it was because she would know within a few days whether the IUI had been successful or not didn’t quell the nervous flutters in her stomach. Maybe because she was honest enough to admit that wasn’t the entire reason.
She took a deep breath, trying to ease the rush of sensations firing through her body, but didn’t succeed.
Despite not trusting him, she’d found herself building fantasies, both sexual and otherwise, around David when her entire attention should be on the future she was trying to create for herself. All her emotional energy needed to be focused on the life she hoped was growing inside her—not on a man who had clearly stated he wasn’t interested in fatherhood.
Perhaps she was using him as a distraction—a way to not have to concentrate on Wednesday and the tests her obstetrician would have run by then. That was hopefully the day she’d start planning her life as a mother. She had no time to waste on David Warmington.
Luckily, she had no reason to see him very much going forward, other than in passing here at the clinic. After the kiss they’d shared, which neither had mentioned again once they’d gone back inside to the gala, he’d been the perfect gentleman. Polite. Polished. Amusing.
And subtly distant.
While she’d appreciated all the former attributes, that last one had stung. Which annoyed her no end. It was what she wanted, right? In fact, what she needed. It should have put her at ease, erased the heightened awareness she felt in his presence—not left her still shivery and aroused, flustered and unhappy. The unreasonableness of her reaction annoyed her even more.
It was definitely time to put all that behind her and concentrate on going forward the way she’d planned—including making sure her work here at the clinic was exemplary. This was a job she intended to keep for a very long time. Stability would be especially important when she became a single mother. In three months there’d be another free clinic, this time for adults, and because of the insane preparations necessary to make it a success the committee meetings started that evening.
Pulling up the list of first steps they’d compiled after much trial and error, Nychelle started going through it, making notes on what should be changed or adjusted. She was so immersed in her chore, it was only when the intercom buzzed that she realized it was already ten minutes past three.
“Yes, Marion?”
“Dr. Warmington is here for you, Nurse Cory.”
What? David? Why?
Thankfully, professionalism was so deeply ingrained in her character she didn’t say the words aloud, even though they’d risen into her suddenly dry throat.
Knowing her silence was on the verge of becoming ridiculous, she said, “Send him in, please, Marion.”
David blew in through the door, giving Nychelle only a couple of moments to gather her wits and arrange her expression into a mildly surprised one.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, as soon as he was in her office. “I just finished a meeting with Dr. Hamatty.”
Her heart rate, which had jumped when she’d heard David’s name, ramped up a little more, but she kept her response to, “Oh? What’s going on?”
He glanced at his watch and, although she waved a hand toward the visitor’s chair on the other side of her desk, stayed on his feet.
“He’s requested that you and I handle an off-site intake. The patient flew in today by private jet from New York, and we need to meet with her, receive her records from the medical team who flew in with her, and do an evaluation.”
“Okay.” It was a little unusual, although not unheard of. Some of the patients Lauderlakes attracted were extremely wealthy, and demanded special attention. “Where are we seeing the patient and what time do we need to get there?”
David gave her the address, while looking at his watch again. “The medical team has to leave by four thirty to get back to the airport, and since I’m not that familiar with the area I think we should leave immediately. I can fill you in on the way there.”
The clipped tone and the way he hardly even glanced at her gave her the sense that whatever friendship they might have developed had evaporated. She wasn’t sure whether to be angry or relieved—wasn’t even sure what the achy feeling growing in her chest could be. So she ignored it, storing it away for later consideration. If he wanted a cool, professional relationship that was exactly what he’d get.
Nychelle turned the address over in her mind. “That’s in Las Olas. I know the way, so I may as well drive.” Without waiting for his reply, she added, “That way you can concentrate on bringing me up to speed on the patient without having to keep your eyes on the road.”
By the time she’d finished speaking she already had her phone in her hand and had dialed. David’s lips parted, but she held up one hand to forestall him when she heard Marion answer.
“Hey, I’m heading out for an off-site intake. If anyone asks, let them know I’ll be back in time for the committee meeting this evening.”
As she hung up the receiver David said, “I can drive and talk at the same time.”
At any other time the disgruntled tone would have made her smile. Just now, though, she felt anything but amused by him. She stood up and made tracks for the door, striding right past him without even a sideways look.
“No doubt—but I’m driving anyway.”
Then she walked out of the office without another word.
* * *
David didn’t bother to argue with Nychelle. He knew that expression all too well. It was the same bland, don’t-mess-with-me look his mother often got when she put her foot down about something. It was probably wisest not to complain—not even about Nychelle’s sedan being so small he was forced to push the passenger seat all the way back to get enough leg room. The atmosphere was frosty enough without risking another layer of ice being added.
It was what he’d aimed for, wasn’t it? This impersonal, professional distance? He knew that after that kiss they’d shared, and the erotic dreams he’d had about her since, dialing back their relationship was imperative. So why did he have this intense need to get back on friendly terms?
Nychelle drove the same way she did everything else—with smooth, calm competence. Turning out of the clinic parking lot, she went east for a while, and then turned south on Highway US1. She didn’t seem at all perturbed by the silence that had fallen between them, and David rubbed the back of his neck, wondering why it was bothering him so much.
He found himself searching for something to say—something that would make her smile, or at least start talking to him in that easy, cheerful way she had.
“I’m surprised you drive a stick shift.”
As the words left his mouth he had to swallow a groan of disgust. His comment bordered on insulting, and Nychelle seemed to think so too, if her response was anything to go by.
“I’m not sure why.” There was that cool, uninterested tone again. “Why don’t you tell me about the patient?”
The snub was deserved, although it made heat spread uncomfortably across his nape and up into his scalp.
Opening the small laptop, he cleared his throat, hoping to sound normal and professional—not to mention as cool as she did—while he spoke. “Twenty-year-old female, Carmen Fitzpatrick. Hemoglobin SS Sickle Cell Disease.”
“In crisis?”
“Had one—” David checked the notes “—four days ago. She’s a musician and was just coming off tour when the crisis occurred.”
“Ah. Now I realize why her name sounded familiar. That’s Carmie-K.”
Surprised, he looked over at her. “You know her?”
Nychelle shrugged. “Just her music. She sings a fusion of rap, reggae, blues and soul. It’s not bad, actually. And, before you ask why someone my age listens to her, Martin’s kids love her music, and, after hearing it first through them, I do too.”
He’d just gotten over his first round of embarrassment for the stick shift comment, and now she’d put him back on the spot.
“I’d never ask something like that.”
Good grief, he sounded defensive even to his own ears, and Nychelle just pursed her lips, her gaze firmly on the road and the traffic around them, her expression both skeptical and annoyed.
He was racking his brain for an appropriate follow-up comment—one that would get him out of the doghouse—when she asked, “Did Dr. H mention why she was here in Fort Lauderdale? I got the impression that she lives in New York City.”
While he was relieved at this return to business, David had to fight the urge to take the conversation back to a more personal level. He didn’t want her thinking of him as some condescending idiot, but keeping the conversation on the patient was probably a good idea.
“She bought a house here a while back and planned to move here after the tour. I get the impression her hematologist in New York wasn’t too happy about her making the trip, but she was determined.”
Nychelle checked her rearview mirror before changing lanes. “Does she have a hematologist lined up here?”
“Yes. Dr. Yuen at Broward Health.”
“And Lauderlakes is to be her primary health provider.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “Will she come in to the clinic after this, when she’s feeling better, or will she want house calls going forward?”
“I don’t know. That’s something we’ll have to discuss with her.”
Nychelle had turned off US1 onto Las Olas Boulevard a while back. They’d passed a high-end commercial area, then gone over a bridge, and now she navigated a construction zone.
“She’s notoriously private,” she said in a thoughtful tone. “Leighann, Martin’s daughter, is obsessed with Carmie-K but she’s never said anything about her having sickle cell disease, so I don’t think it’s common knowledge. It would explain why she bought a house here, rather than in South Beach or Miami. Less chance of being stalked by the paparazzi.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.” He was watching her profile, enjoying the opportunity to do so without it seeming weird. “Paparazzi are as far outside of my experience as traveling into space.”
“Mine too, but I guess Carmie has to think about things like that. Remind me of the address.”
She slowed down, and after reading it out to her David turned his attention to where they were going. One of the myriad canals that crisscrossed the city was on their left, and on their right were large houses, just visible behind high fences and verdant vegetation.
“Nice area,” he said.
The houses were on what seemed to be a series of manmade peninsulas, separated by canals. Looking along the canals, he could see the backs of mansions with neat lawns flowing down to the water. Berthed behind most of the houses were boats of varying sizes—none of them dinghies, by any means.
“I didn’t know this was here, but I haven’t spent much time exploring the city.”
“My parents live just down there.”
She pointed to the road they were going past, and David looked. More mansions.
“Is it just the two of them?” Considering her parents’ positions, he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. Part of him still found it difficult to reconcile what people had in comparison to what they needed. “Not to be rude, but I don’t see any small homes around here. Isn’t it a lot of house for just two?”
“Yep.”
She sent him a sideways glance, and he thought there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. Seeing it made his neck and shoulder muscles suddenly relax, although he hadn’t been aware of how tight they’d become.
“It’s rather wasted on them—especially since neither of my parents like the sea, so they don’t own a boat.” She chuckled. “Not that you have to have a boat when you live on the water, but it makes sense. No, that house is a showplace for visitors and a giant, fancy peapod for the two of them to rattle around in.”
She’d turned onto one of the roads off Las Olas, and they both started looking at the house numbers to figure out which house they were going to.
“I think it’s all the way at the end,” she said. “That’s where the biggest lots are. They were told we were coming?”
“Yes.”
She’d been right about where the house was located. Once there, they were faced with a tall stucco wall with bougainvillea trailing over the top and an ornate metal gate. Pulling up close to a freestanding post with a speaker imbedded into it, Nychelle wound down her window and pressed the intercom button. When she told the man who answered who they were, the gate immediately began opening.
“Please follow the driveway to the right,” the disembodied voice instructed. “Someone will meet you at the car park.”
“Thank you,” Nychelle called out, putting the car back into gear.
It was time to deal with their patient, but David resented the end of the trip. Despite Nychelle’s initially cool attitude he’d enjoyed her company, as always, and they’d gotten back on a friendly footing. He didn’t want that to fade away.
“By the way, your cousin Martin invited me to go out with him and his family next weekend.”
Nychelle flicked him a sideways glance, then veered the car to the right, as instructed, and followed a brick-paved drive around the side of the huge Spanish-style house.
“They’re lots of fun,” she replied. “You should go.”
Rounding the corner, she passed a fountain in the center of a wide paved area. Parking the car next to a high-end SUV, she turned off the ignition.
“Are you invited too?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, although the tightness was back in his shoulders. “I mean, I hardly know Martin, so I figured he’d ask you to come along as well.”
Swinging her legs out of the car, she replied, “Nope—and you’ll be fine without me.”
As he reached for his bag on the back seat David had to stop himself from arguing. And the fact he was supposed to be keeping his distance did nothing to alleviate his dissatisfaction when he thought about going without her.