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"You won't believe what happened."
"What?" she said, her voice excited.
"I broke a heel on your shoes and fell in the alley on the way to the fundraiser."
"Oh, God, Kate," she said. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine, but your shoes are ruined."
"Don’t worry about the shoes. I got them from my sister, and you know her. The queen of cheap shoes. She'll never even notice they're missing."
"You won't believe who I met at the fundraiser," I said, my thoughts turning to Drake.
"Who? Tell me!"
"Doctor Dangerous himself."
"Oh, oh," Dawn said, her voice sounding hesitant. "I can smell trouble over the Ether. Don't tell me you have a date with him or I'll have to come over there and knock you upside the head."
"No, but he did have his hands all over my bare legs."
"What?"
I told her the story of my fall and Drake's doctoring. "Thing is, he's a big friend of my father's. His father and my father were both Marines in Vietnam. Real buddy-buddy. My father thinks Drake is a saint."
"You better not be getting any ideas. The nurses I spoke to at NYP thought he was a dick."
"Of course not. I'm meeting with his business manager to do an interview on his father's charitable foundation for my article for Geist, but speaking of dicks, I don't know if I really want to now. I couldn't do an interview with Doctor Delish, Dawn. He's far too gorgeous."
"Keep away from him. Someone that good looking and rich has to be a total asshole. Plus he's a surgeon. Balls of steel. I'm warning you. Huge balls. Ego galore. Control freak. It's just impossible for him to be anything but a jerk on some level."
"That's awfully judgmental," I said, feeling a need to defend him for some reason, having faced my own share of criticism from my friends on the left because I was born into a wealthy family. "Don't blame him for being born good-looking and wealthy."
"This is just for safety's sake, Kate," she said, a warning tone in her voice. "Your safety. He can probably have anyone he wants whenever he wants and knows it. Stay away."
"I doubt you have anything to worry about."
I felt somewhat saddened. Part of me wished I could go out with him. He was so gorgeous, like Dawn said, that he probably would barely even notice someone like me. On the short side, mousy brown hair, non-descript green eyes and tits a bit too big for the rest of me which I usually took pains to keep hidden under layers of clothes, I blended in with the background most of the time. Except when I wore a revealing dress and had bloody knees and a sprained ankle.
I went to bed later that night, desperately trying not to think of Dr. Drake Morgan. Dr. Delish. But of course, each time I closed my eyes, I remembered his mouth, his jaw, his eyes, which I could barely stand to look into.
I tossed and turned for several hours, fighting with my urges, not wanting to resort to Big. I did not want someone like Drake – someone who was friends with my father – someone who was the opposite to everything I wanted in a man – to invade my private sexual fantasies. He was a Republican. Comfortable around my father's 'people'. Suave. Filthy rich. Powerful.
Yes, he was the best looking man I'd ever seen, but he was just so wrong for someone like me.
Finally, I got up and made a cup of chamomile tea and read Anna Karenina until I fell asleep, the book in my hand, Big still in a tangle of socks at the back of my dresser drawer.
Three days later, I sat in a café across from NY Presbyterian so I could interview Dave. I had on my Doc Marten shoes, with an elastic bandage on my ankle the only sign I'd been injured, my cuts and scrapes mostly healed over. I had the sheet of paper that contained my questions and my iPhone so I could record his answers. I'd called Dave earlier to confirm our interview. I suggested we meet at a café near the Foundation's offices and he suggested one. He called a few moments after I arrived.
"I'm on my way over. Dr. Morgan hoped to be able to do the interview, but he's unable so I'll be doing it after all. He has a busy day in the O.R."
Good. Despite disliking Dave, I didn't want to have to interview Drake. He was just so attractive that I knew I'd feel all tongue-tied around him. As I waited for Dave to arrive, I wondered if he would be his usual self and hit on me. He really was a lothario, although very friendly about it. When Dave arrived and saw me, he made a beeline for me. I remained seated, glad he didn't bother trying to kiss my hand again.
"Kate, so glad you could come meet me," he said, friendly but more formal. "I've been looking forward to this since the fundraiser."
"Nice to see you again," I said, not meaning it for a moment.
He took a seat across from me and ordered a coffee when the waitress came to our table. After she left, he turned to me and folded his hands on the tabletop.
