Chapter Three
Claire
Dr. Daniels pulled waved the maitre'd away and pulled my chair out for me. "Thank you, ah, Davis," I said.
He leaned down and kissed my cheek before settling in his seat. I couldn't help but smile as he surveyed the restaurant with a contented nod.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself to give him a chance. Davis Daniels could be arrogant and aggressive, but, then again, he was a highly-regarded surgeon. And he looked quite handsome in his tailored suit.
Not a scrap of denim or leather in sight.
The idea of Davis in jeans was laughable, and I buried my face in my menu. Why was I thinking about what that stab victim wore?
I wondered if he'd ignored my advice and was on his way to the roadhouse. For a moment, I imagined his strong hands tugging me across the peanut-strewn floor and whirling me into a wild dance. The live music would be all thumping drums and wailing guitars, the kind that got your blood pumping. Not the innocuous tinkling of a baby grand piano.
"Should I ask him to play 'The Girl from Ipanema?'" Davis asked.
I looked up from the menu, shocked that he had remembered the song playing in the elevator on the day we first met. Maybe there was still hope for our first date after all.
"This is a beautiful restaurant," I said.
"You're welcome." Davis plucked my menu from my hands. "Now why don't you just relax and let me do the ordering."
I reached to snatch the menu back but stopped myself. He was trying to be nice and trying to show off. My only problem was it had been too long since I'd had a first date. I didn't know how to behave.
The sommelier arrived and gave me a gracious bow. "And what kind of wine does the lady like?" he asked me.
I opened my mouth but Davis jumped in. "We'll start with a pinot," he announced.
They began to debate each wine on the list and, with Davis interjecting stories of his visits to each exclusive vineyard, it took forever. Bored, I fiddled with my salad fork until Davis patted my hand. He pressed it to the table as if I was a fidgeting child.
My new cocktail dress itched and the seams cut sharply into my armpits. I longed to stand up and tug the whole uncomfortable sheath down or, better yet, trade the irritating dress for my favorite pair of jeans. I wondered what Davis would think if he knew I wore jeans in my off-hours; jeans that I left crumpled on the floor.
Davis' hand stroked mine and I felt my stomach drop. Was he expecting to wake up in my bed? My apartment was a disaster, a messy jumble that I forgot eighteen hours a day. Davis would be disgusted.
He smiled at me, warm and anticipatory, and I took another deep breath. I was on an expensive and romantic date with a real catch. Why was I thinking about jeans and my messy apartment?
"So, tell me about the wine you chose," I said.
Davis' blue eyes lit up, then they darted away across the restaurant. "You'll love it. Just give me a minute, there's someone I need to say 'hello' to."
He got up and adjusted his cuff links, clearly enjoying the prominence of our table, and then stepped lightly off the dais. I watched as he glided across the dining room, greeting tables here and there. Not only was Davis Daniels a gifted surgeon, but he was an active member in the higher circles of society.
I reached for the menu again, a shield against the curious eyes that reached up to our table, but I left it on the table. What was the point of reading it when Davis would choose everything?
After studying the fresh flowers artfully arranged in the center of the table and reminding myself of what each myriad piece of cutlery was for, I glanced up at Davis again. He was still working his way across the dining room, but now I could see his trajectory. A woman with polished black hair and a daring haute couture dress stood up as he approached.
They embraced and she kissed him on the lips. A sharp current flashed through my chest and I fought the urge to press a hand to my heart.
"Ms. Tessa," the sommelier said. "She's a fashion designer."
"Oh? You know her?" I asked the sommelier.
He poured my wine and hesitated to answer. Finally, he gave me a sympathetic look and said, "She and Dr. Daniels dined here just the other night."
The wine tasted like saline but I gave the sommelier a smile and a nod. "Thank you."
Davis strolled back to our table and grinned. "What do you think of the wine? Perfect isn't it."
I smiled but I'd already lost my taste for our date. I had ignored all the rumors that circulated around the hospital, rumors that painted Dr. Daniels as a womanizer and a player. My schedule didn't allow many dates, so I had assured myself the rumors didn't matter; Dr. Daniels was the most eligible man I'd met in the last year or so.
He didn't notice that I'd cooled until the fancy dinner was over. His driver opened the town car door and I sprung out.
"Are you sure you don't want to come to my place?" Dr. Daniels asked with a wolfish grin. His blue eyes raked across the worn brick facade of my small, tight apartment building. "I'm sure you'll find my loft more comfortable."
"I just realized I picked up an extra shift," I said.
He was already on his phone, probably calling the stunning raven-haired woman, as the town car pulled away from my curb.
I sighed and trudged up to my messy apartment. Now all I had to do was wait for my nurses to tell me 'I told you so.'
* * * * *
"Dr. Daniels will not be joining us," Julie said. She slapped the phone down and leaned across the nurses' station.
I looked at her deep scowl and laughed. "At least he's consistent."
Julie gave me a dark look. "He did ask you to stop by his floor. Probably going to ask you out again."
I held up both hands. "I know it's been six months since you were able to say 'I told you so,' but it's possible I was wrong about Davis," I said.
"Davis? You're back to calling him Davis instead of Dr. Daniels?" Julie looked ready to call a code blue on my love life. "Please tell me you are not considering going out with him again."
"It wasn't that bad of a date," I said.
Julie put her hands on her hips. "And what do you have to compare it to? Have you actually had a hot date in the last six months?"
"Without you knowing? Impossible," I said.
"Dr. West? The ear reattachment?" Another nurse waved at me across the ER.
Julie didn't let me escape so easily. She snapped on a pair of gloves and followed me right into the OR wash room. I started my scrubbing routine as she leaned on the door.
"I have to say it," Julie informed me. "Six months is too long."
"Dating just isn't my thing," I said. "I'm too busy. And you, of all people, can't complain that I prefer to focus on my work."
"It isn't good for you," Julie said. "What's that line 'physician heal thyself?'"
"You can't get sick from not dating," I said. "In fact, I think it might be the opposite."
Julie rolled her eyes. "Dating makes you sick? You are definitely going out with the wrong men."
I held up my hands and bumped open the door of the OR. "I'm very selective. That's why I haven't accepted a date in six months."
"Ugh. You and your 'eligible men.'" Julie groaned. "They don't need multiple degrees and a thick CV to show you a good time. You know what a good time is, right?"
I laughed. "Right now my definition of a good time is reattaching this man's ear. Then I'll have a good time reminding him that you need to turn the weed-whacker off before lifting it up and carrying it on your shoulder."
Julie had to stop at the wash room door and go back for a gown and cap, but I knew she wouldn't give up that easily.
"Even I go on a date once a week and I've been married for fifteen years." Julie pulled on a mask and joined me at the operating table. "In fact, my husband's mad that I had to take Lucian's shift. He got us tickets to some big charity gala event. Supposed to be very fashionable."
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm working that night," I said.
Julie shook her head as she readied my surgery tools. "No, you're not. I checked. That's why Doug and I want you to take the tickets."
I tightened my first stitch and directed Julie to hold the ear at the correct angle. "I'm not taking your tickets. Like you said, it's a fancy date for you and Doug. I'd rather take your shift."
"You couldn't do my job," Julie snorted.
And that's why I loved my friend. She worked harder than the doctors, missed out on all the praise, and only brought it up if it would strengthen her case for getting me back into the dating world.
"I can't go to a gala by myself," I said.
"It's a few days away," Julie said. She squirted saline over the ear so the blood didn't blur my view of the tight stitches. "I'm sure we could find you an eligible man by then."
It was my turn to groan. "I'm done with 'eligible men.' I might be done with men altogether."
"We're looking at it all wrong," Julie decided. "You should take a friend because I'm sure the gala will be packed with suitable bachelors. It's the perfect place for you to find a real date."
I focused on the tiny stitches, it was a basic reconstructive surgery but I didn't want to leave a scar. "Go on a date to find a date? Sounds miserable."
"You know, there is such a thing as love at first sight, but you actually have to look around for it to work," Julie said.
She was still on my heels even after the surgery was a success. I tried to ditch her by heading around the nurses' station to the ambulance bay doors. When I saw him, I stopped so suddenly that Julie bumped into my back.
"Claire! Finally! Why are you so hard to get ahold of?" my brother asked.
I gestured to the full beds and bustling ER but Reese didn't notice. He wanted something. It was the only time he was ever focused.
"Hello, Reese," Julie said. She lifted an eyebrow at me. "Are you free this coming Saturday night?"
"Don't you dare—"
It was too late. Julie ignored me and invited my brother to attend the gala as my date.
"She needs to meet a better caliber man than we usually get around here," Julie said.
"Yeah, yeah sure. Whatever," Reese said. He grabbed my elbow. "If I do you that favor, can you help me out?"
I dragged my brother away from the curious nurses. "How much do you need this time?"
"Just like, maybe a thousand?"
"You need one thousand dollars tonight." It felt like a heavy stone sunk into my stomach.
Reese knew the only way to overcome my hesitation was to threaten a scene. He took a deep breath to start but I stopped him with a short nod. We headed to my office so I could grab my checkbook.
My brother slipped the check into his pocket and headed for the door. "Thanks, sis. And don't worry, I know a place I can rent a tuxedo for cheap. The guy owes me a favor," Reese said.
"A tux?" I blinked at him, confused.
"For the gala. See you Saturday." My brother gave me a cheery wave and disappeared before I could say no.