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It’s Thursday. That means I missed my chance on three consecutive mornings. For all I know she gave up and is hitting up another café for an espresso or whatever gets her motor running.
The other possibility is that sweet Jane lied through her teeth about frequenting this place, but my now-hardening cock is t
elling me otherwise.
That’s because a gorgeous blonde just walked in. The blonde I’ve been aching to see for days.
Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. She’s wearing a dark trench coat and carrying a leather briefcase.
She looks like a high-powered executive.
Jane is even hotter this morning than she was the night we met.
I rub the back of my neck as I feel my pulse race. I’m not like this around women. I’ve never been, yet I feel my heartbeat speed as I study her from across the café. I should be up on my feet by now, stalking toward her.
In my mind’s eye, I’ve already got her in an embrace and I’m dipping her and kissing her like I wanted to before she walked out of Jordan’s hotel room the other night.
I sit with that image for a second as Jane finally scans the entire space before her gaze locks with mine.
***
“Jane,” I say as I approach her, irritated that I’m not greeting her with the name everyone in her world knows.
“You’re here.” Her eyes widen as I stop in front of where she’s standing. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, Evan.”
I move a half step to lean in for a kiss but stop myself. We fucked in a hotel room. We’re not long lost friends who engage in double cheek kisses when we see each other.
My gaze goes back to her face. I was riding a slight buzz from the bourbon the other night. I knew she was attractive, but not this striking. This woman is beautiful, as in, breathtaking.
“You told me you’d be here,” I go on quickly. “I would have been here earlier in the week, but work has been hell.”
She nods like she half believes me. It’s not bullshit and if I confess that I spend most of my time caring for others there would most likely be immediate understanding in her eyes.
Most women react the same way when I tell them what I do for a living. They’re impressed. Visions of me in a white coat with a stethoscope around my neck, and a luxury apartment bordering Central Park dance in their heads.
The reality is that I spend the bulk of my time in scrubs as a means to pay off the debt I incurred while studying to be a surgeon. Expertise isn’t cheap and my apartment speaks to that. It’s a bare-bones bachelor in Morningside Heights.
It’s a place for me to crash when I can. It’s all I need right now. That and five more minutes with Jane.
“What’s your real name?” I ask as she opens her pouty pink lips to respond to my comment about my absence from the café every morning this week.
Her mouth slams shut. She looks around before her gaze levels back on my face. “I told you my name is Jane Smith.”
I step closer to her as a guy slips past me on his way to the counter where three baristas are standing at the ready to prepare his overpriced water-downed, coffee. “Bullshit. Jane isn’t your real name.”
The corners of her lips jerk up into a smile before she thins them. “You don’t know that. You might be surprised to learn that there are women in this city who are named Jane Smith.”
“I’ve met some, many…most,” I stop myself before I confess my number to her. Hell, I don’t know it. Ballpark might be fifty… a year, multiplied by…
“Good for you,” Jane interrupts my less-than-stellar mental math skills. “I have to get to work. I’m running late today.”
“Have dinner with me,” I blurt that out as if I’m a regular nine-to-fiver who controls his life and schedule. “I’d like to see you again.”
She looks at me, her gaze scanning my face. “When do you want to have dinner?”
Tonight, but I know that’s not possible. I’m scheduled for surgery at three this afternoon. My dinner is going to consist of a candy bar I purchase from the vending machine once my patient is alert and awake in recovery.
“If you give me your number, I can call you when I know I have a free night.”
