Holding Out for Doctor Perfect

“Every woman you encounter falls in worship at your feet.”

“Every woman?” he said, giving her a pointed look. “I can think of one notable exception.”

“Does it ever get old?”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“You think wrong. Take the TSA lady.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Normally they’re cold, efficient, abrasive even. Not only was she pleasant, the most vigilance she showed was checking out your butt.”

“As flattering as that is—”

“I could see she was wishing you’d opt out of a scan and give her an excuse to pat you down.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t. Why should you? It’s probably always like that.”

He grinned. “Was anyone rude to you? I could beat them up.”

“No. But compared to the way you were treated, I could have been the third asterisk at the bottom of security rules and regulations.”

He laughed. “I think you’re making it up.”

“I swear.” She held up her hand in a solemnly sincere gesture. “Does being perfect ever get old?”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew me better.”

Clearly she’d been teasing him and it was by far one of the most harmless things she’d ever said to him, but all traces of amusement disappeared from his face. The contrast was so obvious and striking that she wondered what nerve she’d stepped on.

Not even her comment about all his women had made him look like that. Was it possible Doctor Heartthrob actually had a heart? Intriguing and, darn it all, the realization made her want to know more.

Spencer sat on the chrome and black faux-leather connected chair beside Avery and waited for their flight. Since her question about whether or not being perfect ever got old, they hadn’t exchanged any words.

His fault.

Apparently this visit to see his family was stirring up a whole pile of psychological crap, although he shouldn’t be surprised. Trips home usually did that, what with the pressure on the Stone kids to achieve. His sister, Becky, had performed every aspect of her life to William and Catherine Stone’s expectations. Her twin, Adam, was a doctor and didn’t care that the folks disapproved of his area of specialization. But Spencer was the firstborn son and hadn’t been cut any slack, couldn’t get to a place where he was neutral. He still cared deeply whether or not he made a mistake and disappointed them. His reaction to Avery’s teasing words proved that.

Just then there was an announcement in the terminal informing everyone waiting for the flight to Dallas that their aircraft would be landing soon. After the passengers deplaned, boarding would begin.

“That’s my cue.” Avery stood and settled the strap of her purse securely on her shoulder. Then she pulled out the handle of her carry-on to take it with her. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“I’ll watch your bag,” he offered.

“That’s okay.”

“You don’t trust me.” His eyes narrowed on her, but a smile threatened.

“Not exactly. But I wouldn’t put it past you to tell a security guard it was left unattended.”

“That would never have crossed my mind,” he said. “Thanks for the idea.”

“No problem.”

He grinned and it felt good. She was a welcome distraction from his dark thoughts. “Seriously, won’t it be faster and easier if you don’t have to drag it with you? Since I need your cooperation to get my way with the robotic surgery system, would it really be smart to play a practical joke?”

“Now that you mention it …” She looked thoughtful. “And no one ever said you didn’t have a high IQ.”

“So it’s settled. I’ll watch your bag.”

She studied him for a moment. “You really don’t mind?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She pushed the handle back in and left it beside him.

Spencer studied her as she walked away. No, study was the wrong word. He checked out her butt. Dynamite. The white collar of her silky blouse was neatly folded over the jacket of her black crepe suit. Trim shoulders narrowed to a slim waist and curvy hips covered by the matching skirt. Sheer black pantyhose sheathed her shapely legs and high heels made those legs look longer, sexier. And then he saw it.

Red on the soles of her shoes.

The flash of color was like finding out her secret. A hint that she wasn’t as proper as she pretended. That there was a playful and passionate woman beneath that business suit and prim exterior. This was both good news and bad.

The red-soled shoes turned him on in a very big way. But she’d made it clear that trying anything personal was a hanging offense and he really did need her help to convince the powers that be at Mercy Medical Center that what he wanted was a good idea. About ten minutes later, through a break in the airport crowd, he spotted her walking toward him. This time he missed seeing the red-hot soles of her sky-high shoes. But the front view made up for it. Normally he liked a woman’s hair long, falling past her shoulders, because running his fingers through it was about the most erotic thing in the world.

But Avery was different. The pixie haircut suited her delicate features and highlighted the slightly tilted shape of her big eyes. And sexy? He could imagine himself cupping that small face in his hands while kissing her until she begged for more. As far as the sexy scale went, that visual buried the needle in the hot zone.

“Hi.” She stood in front of him and glanced at the flight information displayed at their gate. “Looks like our plane is here. People are getting off.”

Her tone said she’d rather they stay on and go somewhere else so she wouldn’t have to.

Spencer stood and looked down at her. “Flying is absolutely the safest way to travel.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“But you don’t believe it.” That wasn’t a question.

“I much prefer my feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much.”

“Imagine that,” he said. “A controller who’s a control freak.”

“Not with everything.”

Uh-huh, he thought. “Just money and transportation.”

“Possibly a few other things.”

“Well, I appreciate that you stepped out of your comfort zone to come along,” he said.

“Like I had a choice.”