Page 32 of Doctor Daddy

Mark smirked.

“Yeah, I have to head out soon too. I agreed to have dinner with some friends. But I don’t want to leave.” He winked.

We both knew that he was coming over to my house in a few hours. I knew how he felt. Gravity was extra heavy. The chairs weren’t particularly comfortable, but the company was the best. Here we could be ourselves. Later at home, we would have to pretend we weren’t dating. I liked this better. My legs didn’t want to do the work required to stand up.

With a grunt, Mark stood up. He took my empty coffee cup and walked to the trash can.

I shifted, gathering my purse. I was still on my butt, watching him when he returned to stand in front of me, extending his hand to help me up.

“Come on, you don’t want to be late.”

His hand felt so warm and comforting around mine. I stood. He didn’t back up, so we were close. He dipped his head and kissed me without any concern for our surroundings. At first, I loved it and leaned into him. And then the panic set in. We didn’t kiss in public. We didn’t do much of anything that could be viewed as dating in public. He slipped his arm around my shoulders and walked me out to my car. He kissed me again, this time with more intent, more desire.

It was hard not to give in to him, but we weren’t supposed to let anyone know we were dating. I put my hands on his ribs and pushed him away. What if someone driving by saw that? And it could be anyone who saw us and exposed us. We worked for a pretty big hospital. I certainly didn’t know everyone who worked there. The lady getting out of her car next to us could work there and recognize us.

“Do you think you can come over later, after the thing with your family is over?” He was continuing the game that after we walked out of the coffee shop, we had to act like we didn’t like each other the way we did.

I shrugged. “Maybe? How long is your dinner?”

He grimaced, exposing teeth. “We can get to talking, and it gets pretty late.”

“How about you text me when you’re headed home, and if I can swing it, I’ll head over.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you later.” He leaned in to kiss me again. I kissed my fingertips and pressed them to his mouth.

“We’re in public,” I reminded him.

He sighed and walked away to where his car was parked. I stood there watching him the whole time. I should have just kissed him. Now I’d be worried that he was mad at me.

15

MARK

Brooke pushed me away. I had unexpected emotions surge through my veins at the rejections. I knew better. It wasn’t rejection, it was her gentle reminder that we had agreed to be discreet about this relationship. Only I discovered that the more I was with her, the less I wanted to be discreet.

I enjoyed being near her, touching her. I swear I could feel her smile more when we held hands. It was a power move to kiss her in public because nobody else could, but I was allowed to.

Only I shouldn’t.

She was right. I had gone a little too far. We could have been seen. How would that have gone over with her father, her job?

I drove away from her so that I could get ready for a dinner party where I should have been allowed to happily parade our relationship. Instead, I stopped at a liquor store on my way home and purchased a bottle of wine. Once home I jumped in the shower to get the smell of the museum and Brooke off my skin. Running my hand over my scruff, I considered shaving. Brooke liked to play with my beard, but too many years of keeping it clean-shaven outweighed her preferences, at least for tonight.

Shaved, dressed, bottle in hand I drove over to the DeBoise home for dinner. I wasn’t kept waiting long after I rang the doorbell. I expected Karen to open the door and fill me in on everyone who was already here, and who would be expected.

My breath caught momentarily when Brooke opened the door. “Doctor Mark, come on in.”

Damn if she didn’t revert back to that old name, the one she used when she was being playful, the one that I heard it now put my cock on alert. Only this time she wasn’t playing in that way. She stepped back and allowed me in.

I put the wine bottle on the side table and began shrugging out of my coat. “So, who’s here?” I asked in low tones.

“Some doctor Dad insists I remember, but I don’t. His name is Franks.”

“Howard Franks?”

She nodded.

“He’s a cardiologist, recently divorced. Who else?”

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