Hot Single Docs: Meeting His Match. Susan Carlisle

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      RYAN STEPPED ONTO the landing of the third floor above Volpentesta’s Restaurant and studied the glossily painted doors. Lucy’s response to his email had been “Third floor, red door.” That had been the sum total of their personal communication since she had stalked out of his office.

      During rounds she’d made it a point not to stand near him. To make the Siberian, dead-of-winter, glacial temperature between them worse, she seemed even sunnier and happier to see the patients and the other staff members than usual. None of that sunshine fell on him.

      If she’d had a question about a patient she’d turned to his clinical nurse for answers. Even when Miguel had had a high fever while still in ICU and Ryan had had a real concern that the boy might require another trip to surgery, it hadn’t been him Lucy had turned to for information in order to reassure the parents.

      He’d been concerned about her reaction to Miguel’s downturn but he wouldn’t let himself ask her about it. He wasn’t going to that place he’d been during his father’s illness. But, still, he cared.

      Lucy couldn’t have made it clearer that she had no use for him if she’d shouted it over the intercom. It had been the longest week of his life.

      Wasn’t that the way he’d wanted it? Yeah, but living in exile hadn’t turned out to be as easy as he’d thought.

      For heaven’s sake, he did brain surgery for a living, on children no less, and the quiet, unassuming woman had rattled his world. He suspected this would be the least agreeable date he’d ever been on. With resigned steps he approached her door and paused for a second before knocking. He’d not been this nervous since he’d done his first solo surgery. This woman wouldn’t intimidate him, he refused to allow it.

      Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he tapped on the door. It opened with a suddenness that startled him.

      “I’m ready,” Lucy said in a snippy voice.

      Her anger hadn’t cooled. Instead of making him mad, she’d managed to make him feel guilty. He didn’t like that feeling at all.

      Lucy stepped out into the landing and pulled the door closed behind her. Her coat was already on and buttoned. A scarf in shades of pink orbited her neck. There was a faint smell of wildflowers about her.

      Recovering from the shock of her sudden appearance, he found his breath caught in a stranglehold with the realization that Lucy’s hair was down. He’d never seen it anything less than under control. Tonight it hung in honey-gold ringlets around her face and down her back. Way down her back. He’d imagined, more than once, what the mass would look like set free but none of his ideas had come near the reality. Her hair was outstanding, glorious, mesmerizing. If he could only touch...

      He lifted a hand. She jerked back as if burnt.

      That hurt. Could the little boy caught with his hand in a cookie jar have felt any more humiliated? Disappointed? “After you,” he mumbled as he moved back to let her precede him.

      He watched in fascination as her wheat-colored mane bounced across her back as she went down the stairs. Her hair stood out in contrast against the chocolate color of her coat. He’d always thought of himself as a leg man but in this case that might not be accurate. What would it be like to have that curtain of gorgeous hair hanging above him while her eyes twinkled at him and her mouth lowered to his? He groaned low in his chest.

      She glanced back at him. The unwelcoming look on her face said Don’t you dare before it continued down. The woman couldn’t possibly know his thoughts, could she?

      He had to get control of his libido or the night would be even more difficult than he’d originally assumed. Lucy was already angry with him and lusting after her wouldn’t make her happier. Grateful for the cold blast of wind that met him straight on when he stepped out of the building, he squared his shoulders. He could do this. If he had to, he’d walk outside when the need to touch her became too strong. Maybe they could get away with putting in an appearance then leaving.

      Lucy turned and looked at him as if asking what came next.

      “This way.” He stepped toward the restaurant valet attendant, resisting the urge to cup her elbow. She walked beside him but not so close that they touched. He handed the parking slip to the attendant.

      Her eyes went wide. “You’re driving? I thought we’d take a taxi.”

      “Not tonight.”

      When the attendant pulled the low, two-seater sports car in front of them Ryan had the pleasure of watching as Lucy’s mouth form an O. He grinned. She liked his car. Lucy allowed his touch as he helped her into the car. A ringlet of her heavenly hair curled along his arm. He took his chance and touched it briefly. So soft.

      Closing her door, he walked around the vehicle, bracing himself to be confined in a small space with a woman snapping mad at him. Could her anger and his lust coexist without turning to fireworks before they made it to the Ritz?

      * * *

      Lucy looked away from the stop-and-go traffic as they worked their way up Fifth Avenue. She studied Ryan’s profile by the glow of the city lights. The luminous yellows, greens, oranges and blues flashed across his straight nose and firm jaw. By anyone’s definition Ryan was handsome. When he smiled, breathtakingly so. But being attractive was only surface deep. Where it really counted, he’d let her down. He’d pushed her away. She didn’t like someone playing tug of war with her emotions.

      Ryan glanced at her and she quickly looked away.

      “Everything okay?”

      “You mean besides us being forced to attend this party together?”

      “You do know it wasn’t my idea.” His words were as flat as a table.

      She sighed. “I know.” Silence filled the space between them as if they were strangers.