Chapter Seven
Two days later Colt appeared at her shoulder again.
“What are you doing over the weekend?”
“Why? Do you need me to work?” If she paid her bill off quicker, the two-week countdown could be reduced. Or, he might actually want to spend some time with her. Now that would be interesting.
Colt gave her that grin again. The one that unnerved her and made her legs turn to Jell-O. Yep. The tingles that appeared whenever he was around her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say right now there were a thousand butterflies dancing on her skin.
Every conversation between them was laden with innuendo. Every lingered glance. Every little smile electrified the air around them.
And she wasn’t imagining it. Lucille had asked her the other day if something was going on. For a few seconds she’d been uncomfortable and resisted the temptation to start babbling words of denial. Lucille was turning into her best friend around here, she didn’t want to tell her lies.
Her final response, “Not yet,” had been met with a knowing smile, along with a few whispers from other staff nearby.
“I was wondering if you wanted to come to a costume ball fund-raiser with me?”
“A fund-raiser?”
He’d asked her out. Actually asked her out.
She was trying not to let her mouth hang open.
Cool. She needed to play this cool.
“It’s work related,” he added quickly.
“Oh.” She felt the ice bucket start to dump all over her head. Maybe he wasn’t actually asking her out after all. Maybe she was only supposed to attend because she worked there.
“A costume ball,” she murmured.
Colt looked amused. “Yeah, you know, costumes? Dressing-up clothes? Don’t you have that type of thing in Scotland?”
“Of course we do. But normally we do fancy dress at Halloween. We dress up and go out guising.”
“What-ing?”
“Guising—going around people’s doors, telling jokes, singing songs, and collecting sweets. That’s what we call it in Scotland.” She looked out the window at the blazing sun and laughed.
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Fancy dress. I like that expression.” He started to laugh. “So, it won’t be an initiation through fire?”
He made it sound like a challenge.
She shook her head. “Oh no. Us Scots girls have the whole realm of fancy dress down to a fine art. Who is having the party?”
“Us. We do it every year in one of the hotels in Santa Monica to raise funds for Helen’s House.”
She felt the blood start to drain from her body. A fund-raiser. In LA. They usually involved serious money. Something she didn’t have.
But Colt didn’t notice. He was still talking. “Everyone from the clinic is expected to attend.”
She couldn’t think straight right now. Her brain was on a washer cycle, spinning around and around. He wasn’t waiting the one week, five days they had left. It seemed good, but maybe she was reading something into it that he wasn’t—maybe this was just work related.
“How much are the tickets?” She cringed when her voice almost came out as a squeak.
Colt shook his head. “Oh, our staff doesn’t pay for their tickets. Each of the partners makes a contribution and the staff join in the festivities and mingle with the guests.” He leaned over the desk toward her. “So, Selena, are you up for it? Will you be my partner at the costume fund-raiser?”
Partner. He’d asked her to be his partner. Now that was different. That wasn’t “all the staff are expected to attend.” Partner sounded much more exciting.
And then there was relief at not having to spend money. Trouble was, if he’d told her it would cost ten thousand dollars, she’d probably still have said yes. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat. A fund-raiser in an expensive hotel with Colt Travers. Who wouldn’t want to be spend an evening in his company?
“What about costumes?”
“Is that a yes? And costumes? We can sort it all out later.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why? Do you have something handy? A warrior princess? A sexy devil? A wicked witch?”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “How big a deal is this dressing-up thing around here? Back home we used to wear whatever we could throw together.”
Colt reached into his pocket. “I was hoping you’d say yes.” He picked up a pen and scribbled on a notepad. “Here’s the name of the place I normally use.”
She glanced at the address and left the card on her desk. “Thanks, I’ll have a look.” At a costumer on Hollywood Boulevard? He must be joking.
“Gotta run. Patients to see.”
She watched his retreating back with a feeling of impending doom. She didn’t have a car to get to the costumers. She didn’t have money for a cab. Or money for a costume. And where was she going to get him to pick her up?
She put her head on the desk. This was a bad idea.
No. This was a very bad idea.
One glimpse of his sexy smile and perfect white teeth and she’d turned to mush and said yes. This was ridiculous. She was going to have to find a way to get out of this.
Lucille tapped her on the shoulder, her eyes were wide. “Did Colt just ask you out?”
“I think so.” She wrinkled her brow. “Does he normally take a member of staff to the fund-raiser?”
Lucille shook her head. “Oh no. He normally takes someone, but not a member of staff.”
“Wow.” She put her head back on the desk. What did that mean? She squinted sideways. One of the nurses was looking at her kind of funny. What would the rest of the staff think? Did this mean something? Selena, the Scottish pauper with no fixed abode or income, had just been asked out by Colt Travers, gorgeous plastic surgeon extraordinaire. She was dreaming. Obviously.
The nurse planted her hands on her slim hips. She rolled her eyes but smiled along with it. “There’s no point hitting your head on the desk. We all feel like th
at.”
No, I don’t think so.
The nurse pointed at the card in front of her. “And don’t go near that place.” She gave a fake shudder. “Last year I thought I was going to have to sell my family to get a costume there.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went shopping in Santa Monica market and made my own. Much simpler. Much cheaper.”
Selena’s mind was racing. She could make a costume. She’d helped her mother make her costume every year growing up. How hard could it be? Did that mean she was actually going to go?
Lucille was still talking. “If you know what you want to go as, finding what you need for the costume is easy. If you want, you can come shopping after work with me in Santa Monica.” She winked at Selena. “With three nieces and two nephews, I’ve become an expert on how to thrift shop.”
She started to push aside all her worries. The money issue could be addressed. She could make a costume on a shoestring budget. She could try and arrange a lift with someone else—that way Colt wouldn’t pick her up and she wouldn’t need to worry. After all, how often was she going to get a chance to go on a date with Dr. Gorgeous? She’d have to be a complete fool to give up an opportunity like this. Who knew what lay beneath the designer clothes and sexy flirtations? She couldn’t wait to find out.
Selena nodded. “Thanks, Lucille. That would be great. I really appreciate it.”
Lucille started back down the corridor. “Between now and then, you need to decide who you’re going to be.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got five hours, girl. Get thinking.”
Selena smiled.
She didn’t need to think. She had the perfect idea.
Chapter Eight
Costume party night and only ten days to go. Colt pulled up outside the clinic and spa. Selena had wanted to meet there, rather than have him pick her up at her apartment. She’d said something about wanting to work late to get things finished and then she’d shower in the spa and get ready there. He’d tried to shrug it off, even though it seemed odd to him. He glanced at his watch. He was right on time. She’d insisted he didn’t need to come in for her and to honk the horn and she’d come out.