“Hold the lift!” A familiar urgent voice echoes off the concrete walls in the underground car park and there’s a rush of heavy footsteps. David McCallister slides to a stop and steps smoothly through the doors that I just managed to hold for him.
”Thank you.” He effortlessly regains his composure and smiles a warm and winning smile at me. Recognition and pleasure illuminate his dark blue eyes, and I have to give at least a little credence to Harper’s observation of the good doctor: He is a little dreamy.
“No problem.” I hold my finger over the array of floor options.
“Oh, twelve, please.” He stands with his shoulder to mine, despite the ample space. We’ve had coffee a few times since our first meeting last Monday and we have this Saturday planned, still this contact feels strangely and inappropriately intimate. Manners and elevator etiquette prevent me seeking my own personal space even if the social awkwardness is pulsing off of me in waves. I must have an expression of confusion when I look up. He grins and purses his full lip like something amuses him. “Did you do anything fun over the weekend Regan?”
I take the question as an opportunity to turn and face him, creating just enough space for me to break contact. My reply is breezy, and I even brush his arm because I now feel more awkward for moving away. It’s not like he had me pressed up against the wall, fingers sunk knuckle deep inside me like someone else I know would’ve done in an empty elevator. I can feel my face start to heat with my wayward thoughts, and I quickly shake the image away.
“I had a sleepover for three hyperactive five-year-olds who systematically ransacked every room in my apartment and possibly gave me tinnitus.” I rub my ear at the memory of enduring the incessant high-pitched squeals from three feisty first graders all weekend.
“You were babysitting?”
“An advance favour for next weekend,” I explain, because no one in their right mind would volunteer for that level of torture. “Only my friend has twins, so she gets a twofer.”
“Ah, got it. I guess it must be tricky being on your own.”
“It was. Not so much now. I have a great network of friends, and besides, I’m usually a hermit, so it’s not like I’m always draining the favour bank.” I shrug. As hard as it was in the beginning, it’s more than manageable now. I love my life with Ruby, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Then I’m honoured you chose to use one of those favours for me.”
“Right back at you. I’ve never been asked to a ball.” I go to slap a playful hand on his chest, my tone light and jokey, until he captures my hand and holds it in his. He tugs me to close the gap I had created. I look up as he looks down.
“That’s a crime right there.” His words are almost lost with the swoosh of the doors opening.
“Nurse Jones.” The voice is a calm greeting, his tone like a reprimanding slap. I snap my hand from David’s but don’t move away. I’ve not done anything wrong, although turning to face Joel’s dark and dangerous scowl, you’d think I’d burnt his UP cabin to the ground.
“Dr Prescott.” My professional, polite response is standard, even if this exchange is charged and making my tummy tighten with tension. It’s our unspoken golden rule: We both keep us secret. We never play, flirt, or anything in front of witnesses.
“I hope I’m not interrupting something? I can take the next ride if you need a little privacy.” Joel pushes the words out deliberately through a taut, ticking jaw. His loaded inference makes my eyes widen like saucers. The comment was bad enough, but the proprietary way he said it made it so much worse.
What the hell!
“Don’t be an ass, Joel.” David responds, because I’m momentarily speechless.
“My bad, Mac. Nurse Jones has better taste than to look twice at a dork like you.”
Joel steps into the elevator, punching David on his chest with enough force to make him step back. Joel fills the space between David and me, but lets out a bright easy laugh, which goes some way toward easing the burgeoning tension.
“Think my taste is somewhat questionable these days.” I think I say that in my head but recoil when David responds.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, no… not you! I didn’t mean you, David.” I step behind Joel and then in front of him so I am now directly in front of David once more. I place my hand on the top of his arm, a firm reassuring grip I hope will do the trick. David gives me a gentle smile and nods. His eyes narrow above my head when Joel cuts in.
“Then who…Regan?”
“Nothing, I didn’t mean anyone. I was talking about…” I fluster, and my brain seems to be set on pause, as nothing is coming out.
“Yes?” Joel’s smug knowing smile snaps me right out of my stasis.
“David, would you like to meet up for lunch and we can talk about Saturday night.” I take both his hands in mine. The touch is so much more intimate than I am ready for, but I feel Joel forcing my hand, and for some unfathomable reason, I can’t be the adult and just ignore his childish behaviour.
“Saturday?” Joel asks, and I smile widely at the irritation in his tone.
“I’m sorry, was I talking to you, Dr Prescott?” I glance over my shoulder dismissively, and then look back to David.
“Yes, that would be nice. I’ll look forward to it. My floor.” David squeezes my hand and steps between the opening doors.
“So it is…bye, then, David,” Joel sing-songs and sighs with mock disappointment. I suck in a huge breath as he stands flush against my back, one hand on my shoulder and one on my ass. His grip tightens, and I swallow the rising lump and gasp. “It looks like you’ll have to leave Nurse Jones in my capable hands for the rest of the ride.”
“It’s not a ride, Joel,” I grit, forcing an easy smile as the doors close on a confused-looking David.
“We’ll see about that.” Once the doors are closed, my knees buckle with the motion of the moving car, or is it from Joel pulling me back into him? He swings me around until my back hits the wall, his strong frame caging me, his thick thigh pressed between my legs. As angry as I am, I still sink down onto his leg, my eager core needy for contact. What’s wrong with me?
“Joel, what the hell are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” His mouth collides with mine; his tongue dives inside, swirling, tangling, and drawing my body into his. He breaks, and breathlessly his gaze bores into me. Somewhere my sense and reason surface.
“I think you are all but pissing around my feet marking your territory. I’m not yours to mark.” I challenge. “We’re a secret, Joel. That is the only thing we have going for us. That no one knows and now David will think—”
“Why do you care what David thinks?” He cuts in, his tone clipped with hostility.
“I don’t.” I shake my head, because that’s not right. And why the fuck does it matter to him? I’m nothing to him. “I mean I do. We have a date on Saturday, and I don’t want him thinking we’re anything.” I move my index finger rapidly between our two faces.
“Date?”
“Yes.”
“He’s taking you to the ball?” His face is still close to mine, but he pulls back as if trying to keep focus.
“Yes…Joel.” I press my hand on his chest. He leans into my touch and then moves back, his face deep in thought. The car comes to a stop, and when that brief moment of weightless subsides, the doors open. I grab my bag from where it rests at my feet and step onto my floor. It’s Joel’s floor too. I turn since there are no footsteps following me. He is standing holding the closing elevator doors at bay. The way he is looking at me has me rooted to the spot.
“Regan.” It’s not a question. He says my name like it belongs to him.
“Yes.” I exhale.
“You may not be my territory, but you are mine.” He lets the doors close and leaves me confused, hot, and dripping wet.
Damn him.