The M.D. Next Door

She thought she’d handled Gale’s teasing about Seth well enough, keeping it light, making it sound as though this was nothing more than a passing flirtation. Which, of course, she supposed it was, since neither she nor Seth had made any reference to the future during the days that had passed since he’d joined her in the pool—and in her bed.

They had been together four times since then, mostly on weekends when they both had a little more free time. She had enjoyed every minute she’d spent with him. They’d laughed and talked, swam and played her favorite word game at her house, avoiding the blazing heat that had come with July. They’d rented a couple of movies and snuggled in his den with popcorn and sodas. And they’d made love. Oh, had they made love.

Yet in all those lovely hours together, they had not once talked of anything particularly important. They mentioned Alice, of course, more in the context of how she was enjoying her travels than any talk of when she would return. They shared a few funny anecdotes from their pasts—high school, college, law school and med school—but no speculation about their futures, separate or otherwise.

Though they weren’t hiding out, exactly, they didn’t go out in public, nor did they invite other people in. Perhaps neither wanted to share the other’s attention. At least, that was the way Meagan felt. They made loose plans—such as for tonight’s dinner—but nothing more than a few days ahead. And nothing at all beyond Alice’s return in just under two weeks.

She told herself that was fine. If all she and Seth had was another two weeks, more or less, then they would make the most of those two weeks. For two weeks, she could make a little extra time in her schedule to spend with him. Get home a little earlier once in a while, as he seemed to be trying to do for her, despite whatever had come up today. And when the two weeks ended Seth could concentrate completely on his job and his daughter again and she would renew her commitment to her own career, both of them refreshed and recharged from their virtual vacation together.

A passing flirtation. Nothing more.

That was what she wanted everyone to believe, anyway. Including herself.

During the next seven days, Seth had to cancel plans they’d made once when something came up at work. Meagan had to cancel once and was called away by her mother just as they were sitting down to dinner another time. On the second Tuesday in July, only four days before Alice was due home on Saturday, they finally managed to eat an entire meal at her place. Both were exhausted after a particularly long, demanding day at their jobs, so they had a late dinner of Chinese takeout Meagan had picked up on the way home.

Since Alice had left for her trip, Seth had told Jacqui there was no need for her to cook dinners, letting her leave a little earlier each evening. He’d fended for himself when he or Meagan had other plans, and joined her for quick meal preparations or takeout when they were both available.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Seth said, eyeing her across the dinner table. “But you look wiped out.”

She smiled faintly. “No offense taken. I guess I am a little tired tonight. I did a routine, hour-long procedure at seven this morning, then started an operation that should have taken about five hours but that ended up taking eight, instead. Complications. And I still had another forty-five minute procedure and rounds to do after that. A little more hectic than usual.”

He frowned in sympathy. “Did the patient survive? The one with complications?”

“Yes, though it’ll be touch and go for the next twenty-four hours. I’m cautiously optimistic about his full recovery.”

“Eight hours.” He shook his head. “On your feet that entire time bent over a patient?”

“I don’t really have to bend over. We position the patient to give me comfortable access. Some operations take even longer than that one.”

“So during those long operations do you—uh, take breaks? You know, if you have to?”

“Let’s just say I don’t drink a lot of liquids before surgery in the mornings,” she explained with a smile, having encountered this question before. “I can descrub during an operation if I have to, then scrub back in as soon as possible afterward. It’s not as though the patient is left without care if I take a ten-minute break. There are assistants—resident and med student, an anesthesiologist, nurses and the scrub tech—all available as needed. But I try not to leave during a procedure unless it is necessary.”

“I can tell comfortable shoes are a must for your job.”

“No kidding. And we’re provided good rubber mats to stand on—unlike the med students who usually have to stand on a hard stool in a very uncomfortable position to hold retractors or whatever else we need them to do,” she added wryly. “I was just glad I didn’t have McCallum holding the retractor—a third-year med student rotating through surgery this month. She’s got a reputation for letting her mind wander. I had to snap at her several times during surgery last week and I heard Dr. Bellsmith threw one of his famous tantrums in her direction.”

“Ouch. That sounds painful.”

“Trust me, it is. I was the lucky recipient of one of those tantrums when I was an intern and made a stupid mistake.”

“A mistake? You? Don’t believe it.”

She chuckled. “I’ve made my share.”

“We had this professor in law school—Dr. Szabo—man, could he yell. He had a reputation for throwing out random questions totally unrelated to anything he happened to be lecturing about, and if you didn’t instantly produce the answer he wanted you could expect to be called an idiot and a poseur who should be cleaning toilets rather than studying law. And that was if he was in a good mood.”

She laughed softly. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

He grinned. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, too.”

It was nice sitting there in her dining room, the lights dimmed, candles flickering between them, instrumental music playing softly from a hidden speaker. She’d figured the least she could do since they were having takeout was to arrange a nice atmosphere in which to enjoy it. Especially since they’d been able to enjoy so few of these moments together. And had so few left to share.

Their gazes met and she spent a moment admiring the way the candlelight flickered in his green eyes, turning them to glittering emeralds. He reached out to place a hand over hers on the table, his thumb rubbing gently against her skin. “When I said you looked tired? Doesn’t mean you aren’t still beautiful.”

Was he still worried that he had offended her with the observation? She resisted the impulse to argue that she wasn’t beautiful, which would have sounded like fishing for compliments, and settled for a simple, “Thank you.”

And then she quickly changed the subject. “Can I get you anything else? More tea? Something for dessert?”