Two Doctors and A Baby

“You’re clean,” she decided, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “You wouldn’t be playing games otherwise.”

“And if I’d told you I was clean, that our romantic—” she snorted derisively at that, while he narrowed his gaze and continued “—liaison was the first time I’ve forgotten a condom since I was a horny, fumbling seventeen-year-old, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

“Which is why there has to be a tiny niggling of doubt in your mind,” he said. “Barely a seed right now, but if you don’t hold those results in your hand, that seed will grow...and grow.”

She glared at him, because dammit, he was right. “What time did you want to eat?”

His smile was smug. “Seven o’clock. Valentino’s.”

She shook her head. “Seven o’clock works, but I’ll cook.”

“I’d be flattered by your offer to cook for me if I didn’t suspect your true motivation is that being seen in public with me might damage your reputation.”

“I suspect you’re just as worried about your own, considering that I’m not your usual type.”

“And what is my usual type?” he asked curiously.

“Ready, willing and able.”

“You’ve got me there,” he acknowledged. “But then it’s not really true to say you’re not my type, because you were all of those things when we were in SC together.”

She frowned. “SC?”

Despite the fact that they were alone in the room, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I decided that should be our code for the supply closet. That way, if anyone overhears us talking, they’ll think we stole away to South Carolina together rather than a six-by-eight utility room.”

“No worries,” she told him. “We’re not going to be talking about it. Not after tonight.”

“Seven o’clock at your place?” he prompted.

She nodded and gave him her address.

“You’re not worried that being alone with me will tempt you to jump my bones again?”

“I didn’t ‘jump your bones’ the first time,” she denied hotly.

“You made the first move.”

“It was a kiss. Simple, casual, friendly.”

“It was a spark,” he countered. “And considering how skillfully you’ve dodged me for more than three years because of the red-hot attraction between us, you had to know that one little spark would ignite a firestorm.”

Thankfully, he didn’t stick around for a response, because she didn’t know what to say to that. He was right—for more than three years, she had dodged him and the uncomfortable feelings he stirred inside of her. And as soon as she got through this dinner tonight, she would go back to dodging him again.

It was the only way to ensure that the red-hot attraction didn’t lead to her getting burned.

* * *

Justin immediately recognized the address that Avery had given him because it was on the opposite side of Memorial Park from his own place. He knew their dinner wasn’t technically a date, but he picked up flowers for her, anyway, and had the bouquet in hand when he buzzed her apartment at precisely seven o’clock—just as she rushed in through the front door.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I got caught up at the clinic so I’m running a little bit behind schedule.”

“That’s okay,” he said.

She fumbled with her keys. “Why don’t you come back in half an hour?” she suggested. “By that time, I should have everything well under way for dinner.”

“Because I’m here now and I can help,” he told her.

“I invited you to eat dinner not make dinner,” she pointed out, clearly unhappy that he wasn’t going away and letting her control the timetable.

“I don’t mind.” He followed her into the elevator, where she stabbed a finger at the button for the fifth floor.

It was a corner unit of the U-shaped building, with a view of the tennis courts and pool. The interior was exquisitely—and he suspected professionally—decorated, with comfortable furniture in neutral colors, framed generic prints on the walls and a bookcase filled with medical texts. They were no personal touches in the room. No magazines or candles or decorative vases or bowls.

She went directly into the kitchen and, when he followed, he saw that the galley-style cooking area was equally pristine—the cupboards were white with simple steel handles. The white quartz countertops were bare of clutter except for a single-serve coffeemaker. The deep stainless steel sink was literally spotless, without even a spoon or a cloth in sight.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“What are you having?”

“Water.” She opened a cupboard to take out a glass and filled it with ice then water from the dispenser in the door of the refrigerator.

“That works for me,” he said.

She turned to hand him the first glass—and nearly dumped the contents all over him when she discovered that he was directly behind her.

Thankfully, he caught it before it tipped too far. “Relax, Avery.”

She managed a strangled laugh as she filled a second for herself, drinking down half of it before setting it aside.

“We can go out if you’re not comfortable with me being here.”

“It’s not you—or not specifically you,” she amended. “It’s just that I’m not used to other people being in my space.”

“Apparently,” he noted, offering her the bouquet.

“Oh.” She looked at the bright blooms as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

“They probably want some water, too,” he told her.

“Of course,” she agreed, moving to the cupboard above the fridge to pull down a clear glass vase.

She seemed more comfortable when she was doing something, and she kept her attention focused resolutely on the task while she filled the container with water, trimmed the stems of the flowers, then arranged them in the vase.

“These are really beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”