Notorious D.O.C. (Hope Sze medical mystery) (16 page)

"No, H. Sze."

"But you're listed with your name
and address?"

"Yes."

I heard him drum his fingers on the
table. "I don't like it. Anyone could dig you up, especially with the
whole 'detective doctor' thing."

"I'll go unlisted next time." I
wondered how much damage that would do to my wallet. "But I'm already in
this year's edition and that's not going to change."

Silence. "I have to think about
this. Want to meet for lunch?"

I shook my head even though he couldn't
see me. Ryan had mentioned meeting me at Rona, the hardware store. "Um, I
don't think I'll have time. I've got a lot of charting."

"Dr. Ludovich, right?"

"Yeah."

He imitated her accent. "'Never mind
what diagnoses the patient has. Did you ask what he does for a living?'"

I giggled. "Exactly. 'You can tell a
lot from a patient's profession. And what about his living situation?'"

"Okay, you'll be stuck there
forever. I'll finish up here and meet you in your counseling room."

"But—"

"On the third floor, right? Did you
take one of the middle ones?"

I sighed. "Yes. The third one."

"See you soon."

I debated whether or not to open the door
so Tucker could find me. But I prefer not to have passers-by gawk at me while
I'm writing confidential notes, and I figured the sign turned to
"occupied" was a pretty good signal. Everyone else would have cleared
out by now. Like I said, I always end up bogged down, writing detailed charts
while my
compadres
sail off for a
cinq à sept
. Gotta figure out how they
do it.

Someone rapped on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Tucker stuck his head around. "
Oh, non, c'est pas vrai
," he
sighed, imitating the girl on the phone.

"Shut up." I was already
laughing.

"You attract more trouble than
anyone else I know. You have any leads you want me to chase down, Buffy?"

"Not yet."

He shut the door and perched on the edge
of my table. "I'm ready and willing. And looking forward to checking out
the island with you."

I frowned.

"You remember. You asked me to check
out where Laura—" He hesitated.

"—died. Yes, I remember."
That was before Ryan stayed the night. Ryan was going home soon, but I was sure
he felt, as I did, we'd made an unspoken promise last night. He might well
expect to come visit on the weekend, or even have me drive to Ottawa and visit
him and my family.

Tucker was staring at me. "You're
rescinding?"

I was charmed by his vocabulary even as I
laid down my pen and tried to figure out what to do. "No." Not
exactly.

He picked up my pen and my chart.

"Hey!"

He moved them behind his butt, so I'd
have to reach around him to snatch them back, while his sharp brown eyes
surveyed my face. "What's going on, Hope? At least have the decency to
tell me."

Low blow. He knew I'd always prided
myself on my honesty, and I was about to tell him. I was just trying to be
tactful as well as truthful, for once. "Well, you remember Ryan."

"Yes." One clipped syllable.

"He's—" Staying with me right
now. No, too loaded. "He might have plans, but, well, nothing's fixed,
so..." So then why was I bringing it up?

Tucker's eyebrows drew together.
"You have got to be kidding me."

"Tucker."

"You asked me to give you space. I
gave you space, I gave you a day, and now you're canceling the plans you
already made with me?"

"
No
."
My temples started to pound. "Forget it. I asked you to go to the island
with me, let's do it."

He took a deep breath. Then he pushed my
pen and chart back toward me. "Fine. Give me a call." He stood up and
brushed off his pants.

I took a deep breath, too. My pride
wanted to let him walk out the door and pretend I didn't care, but I knew I'd
hurt his feelings. "Tucker, I just did, okay? Now you know about a 1-900
number you can call when you're lonely. It's a valuable service."

He shook his head and remembered.
"Right." He flashed me a tiny grin. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry." I hesitated.
"Ryan and I haven't gotten back together or anything. We just have a lot
of history, and I felt like you had a right to know. But it's true, I already
asked you and I was looking forward to it. I'm all yours on Saturday."

Tucker waggled his eyebrows up and down.
"I can do a lot in 24 hours." He snagged the chair next to me and
pulled it very close to mine.

A smile tugged at the corners of my
mouth. "I'm supposed to be working."

He leaned over close enough that the
warmth of his cheek seemed to transfer to mine. "I'll help. What is this.
'Lives alone with five cats (adopts strays), but says they are all vaccinated.'"

I yanked my papers away. "Dr.
Ludovich really wanted that in there."

He threw his head back and laughed.
"Why?"

"Oh, she said it showed how lonely
he was, that he wanted companionship but had a hard time getting close to
people. And I put the vaccinated part in, because I didn't want anyone to think
he was living in an abandoned bus with a hundred starving, deformed cats, that
the SPCA would have to put down. I like cats."

He shook his head, still smiling.
"You are the nicest person."

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "I
wish. I used to be so innocent and sweet before medical school, but something
about being up all night, patients swearing at you, I don't know..."

"You're still nice. You just act
tough."

I didn't like that, like I was Rizzo from
Grease or something. "What about you?"

"You tell me."

I tilted back in my chair so it balanced
on two legs and I got a little further away from him. "I think you use
charm instead. But, honestly, that works better from guys. Nurses walk all over
gosh-darn-it, sweet, uncertain girls." I paused and tilted my chair back
even further.

"Yeah, but women can use their looks
to get ahead with the guy doctors."

I set my chair down with a thump.
"Huh?"

"Sure. I see it all the time. They
get away with 'I'll look it up later' because they're cute, whereas I can see
my evaluation going south if I don't snap to it with the right answer."

"Bullshit."

He shrugged. "I call 'em like I see
'em. So do you."

I chewed my lip. "I'm always saying
I don't know. Are you telling me I'm getting away with it by batting my
eyelashes?"

He laughed. "God, no!
 
You're always frowning in the emerg." At
my expression, he added, "And you really do look things up."

Now I was afraid he thought I wasn't
cute, even though all evidence so far was to the contrary. Plus, I like to
think I'm enjoying myself in the emerg, not prepping myself for early Botox.

"That's a compliment, in case you
didn't notice," he said.

"Right. I'm scowling my way through
the articles."

"You take everything way too
seriously."

He wasn't the first to say that to me
("Loosen up," "You're too sensitive," etc. etc. all riffs
on the same theme), but Tucker particularly hurt my feelings. And, probably
partly because I was tired, I suddenly wanted to cry. I closed my eyes.

"Hey." His voice softened
again. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't answer right then. I
concentrated on my breathing.

"Is it something I said? Hard to
believe, because I'm always so charming."

I pinched my nose hard. "Yeah.
You're a prince."

So he sat there and waited for me, which
was exactly the right thing to do, until he said, "Psych can be pretty
intense, especially when you're dealing with your own stuff."

Totally off-base. It wasn't psych, it was
him, Ryan, Mrs. Lee, Reena—oh, wait, she
was
psych. Maybe Tucker wasn't completely off-base. But I wasn't
diddling around with Oedipal or Electra complexes, I was freaked out over love,
death, grief, and overwork.

He got up, but it was just to hand me the
el-cheapo mauve-and-green box of hospital tissues, again, like I was a patient.
I blew my nose. "Tucker..."

He put his head near mine and whispered
in my ear. "I know what our problem is."

I drew back so I could look him in the
eye, but also because I was both aroused and discomfited by his warm breath in
my ear and against my cheek. "What's that?"

"We talk too much." His arm
launched forward and tousled my hair, making sure my bangs got in my eyes and
generally rubbing hard enough to shock a cat with the static electricity.

I squealed. Girly to the max, but then I
knocked his arm away and gave him a quelling look.

He laughed and lunged at me again.

I shot out of my chair so fast it fell
over. "You're a dead man."

"Oh, I'm terrified!" He danced
out of range. "What're you going to do, throw your pharmacopoeia at
me?"

"Good idea." I yanked the
little booklet out of my lab coat pocket. Cue cards and pens and slips of paper
rained to the ground, but I ignored them as I fired the tiny book between his
eyes.

He ducked.

I pitched the Sanford guide next. It was
heavier and clipped his ear.

"Ow!" He scooped it up and
threw it back at me, not trying too hard, but it bounced off my arm.

"
Ow
!"
I jumped him and scrubbed both hands through his hair. In five seconds, I'd
rearranged that spiky gel on top into something like a crop circle an alien might
make, if the alien was drunk and joy-riding on an ATV almost out of gas.

"That's better than the gel look,
okay?" I chortled, until Tucker stopped still and stared down at me, and I
realized just how close I'd ended up to him.

Close enough to touch much more than his
hair. Close enough to feel dangerous. My fingers tingled from the friction, as
if I were still touching him.

We stood there for a minute, breathing
hard, eyes locked.

He slid his arms around me. Even through
my white coat, I could feel his fingers flexing on my arms and then moving over
to my back with exquisite slowness, never taking his eyes away from mine.

My heart beat in my throat. It felt
wonderful and forbidden and most of all, inevitable.

So much so that I was the one to rise up
on tiptoe, lean forward, and kiss him.

Chapter
16

He hadn't shaved. I felt Tucker's
bristles against my mouth and I liked it. It felt primal.

His lips were very warm against mine, but
softer than I expected. Softer than Ryan's, I realized, and felt guilty, but
not guilty enough to stop.

He kissed me back, hard, demanding, his
tongue pressing against my own. He tasted like coffee and something deeper, his
own taste. He slid his hands into my hair and pulled my close, smoothing my
locks before running down my back and squeezing my ass.

I could feel the tension in his arms and
his back. He'd been wanting this a long time. He was restraining himself.

The other feeling I got was: possessive.
When he took me, he'd want all of me.

My tongue danced against his, teasing. He
groaned low in his throat and pulled me even closer, his hands smoothing my
thighs before moving up again. I smiled. I knew he could feel my mouth curve
against his.

He pulled away and kissed the corner of
my mouth, my cheek, my neck, my eyelids. "Oh, Hope. Hope." Then he
came back to my lips and kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, but no less
urgent.

When I kissed Ryan, it felt like coming
home.

Kissing Tucker felt like an adventure. I
tilted my head to one side and he followed me, lighter now, more playful, like
we had all the time in the world instead of whatever seconds we could steal
away in the conference room. He nibbled my bottom lip. I smiled again. He
nipped me lightly in response before tracing his tongue along the delicate skin
inside my lips.

And I knew then, if I had ever doubted,
that he would be a wonderful lover. Skilled, but more importantly, playful and
considerate.

Time for me to pay back. I broke away to
inhale the skin at his neck. Heaven. I licked up to his jaw and dropped kisses
alongside before moving on to his ear.

He chuckled low in his throat, but I was
just getting started. I pushed him back into his chair, the one that had no
arms. And then I straddled him, settling onto his lap. His eyes flared, dark
with desire and approval.

The little voice inside my head, the one
always calculating and doubting, was silent for once. I rubbed my nose against
his, momentarily shy, and he rubbed back and settled his hands on either side
of my waist. "You are fucking amazing."