Dr. Tempt Me - A Possessive Doctor Romance

I couldn’t put any of that into words though. “I’m not taking on new patients right now.”

She smiled, only a fraction of an inch. “I bet you’re not.”

“And anyway, you couldn’t afford me.”

She snorted and tugged at her hair. “I should get back to work.”

“If Maria comes to you again, tell me. In the meantime, I’m going to do some more digging and see if I can’t figure out some more details.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

I was tempted to give her an honest answer: she could take off her clothes and straddle me until we both came in shivering gasps. Instead, I only shook my head. “Don’t worry about it for now.”

She turned to the door and put her hand on the knob, but hesitated. “I don’t date doctors, you know.”

“I don’t date nurses.”

She looked back at me. “What’s the point of this then?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t bother.” I stared at her, daring her to agree.

She smiled slightly. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

She turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

I lingered there then sat down in my chair and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, my mind whirling so fast I could barely control myself. That kiss, her lips soft and strong and proud, and her taste on my tongue, and goddamn, that kiss.

But Maria knew. That was a problem. I didn’t know how far she’d go to protect her secret, and I suspected it might be very, very far. If she really was wrapped up with the mafia and involved with some dangerous people, then that meant she might use those dangerous people against us.

I had to be ready to protect Fiona.

That was the most important thing, above all else. Maria could go away, I didn’t give a damn, so long as Fiona came through this on the other side.

I only wished I understood exactly what I was protecting—if this was something real, whatever was happening between us, or if I was going to do what I always did, and run the hell away.

I was too scared of turning into my father, and Fiona was scared of something else.11FionaIn the shower that night after getting home from my shift.

Again while eating dinner, and again while watching TV.

In bed, because I couldn’t sleep, and in the morning, when I lay on my side staring at the clock halfway wishing it weren’t my day off.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

It’d been a while since I reacted that way to a man—maybe I never had before in my life. I tried to think back to previous boyfriends, but they all seemed like phantom blobs in my memory, vague gray shapes that laughed and grunted and had too much hair.

Dean was crystal clear. Too clear, really, so sharp that I could still taste him and feel him on my lips and teeth and tongue. I wished I could make the memory go away, or maybe that I could go back in time and make myself stop, but I couldn’t do either.

It was probably for the best. I needed to get that out of my system. One kiss was no big deal, after all, and I told him that I don’t date doctors. He said he doesn’t date nurses, so that’s the end of it.

We won’t date each other.

Except I kept thinking about him, and not about the thing I should’ve been obsessed over. At the bodega down the block while I bought some coffee, in the bagel place while I bought more coffee and a sandwich, and in the grocery store while I pawed at apples and heads of lettuce. I knew I should’ve been focusing on the Maria problem, and yet I couldn’t seem to care about that, like kissing a handsome doctor was somehow more pressing.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, there he stayed, locked up tight in my brain and apparently not going anywhere.

I dropped off my produce then went for a walk, partly to clear my mind, and partly because I had nothing better to do. It was a nice morning, slightly blustery, but the sun was strong and warm, and I felt good. I stopped for another coffee, my third of the day, and felt the jitters as I sipped it and continued down Philly streets congested with traffic, old cars parked tight against the curb, trash rolling along the gutters, people sitting on their stoops, women leaning out of windows, brick buildings looming all over and seeming to stretch out into forever. I angled toward the park, stopped at a light—and looked back over my shoulder.

That was the first time I saw them. Two guys, one of them tall, the other medium-height, both of them wearing nondescript windbreakers and jeans. The shorter guy was bald, with chubby cheeks, and the taller one had long hair pulled back into a ponytail and the ghost of a beard.