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“What area of expertise?” Again, I press closer, this time leaning on the tips of my toes to kiss his chin. “General, or do you specialize in something?”
“General surgeon, Mimi.” His hands travel lower, fingers skimming the expanse of my back and then settling over the two dimples at the small of my back. They dig in a bit, flesh on flesh. Those hazel eyes are hungry, pupils dilated until the honey color almost disappears and what’s left causes my thighs to clench.
“Tell me more,” I whimper, my response automatic and mirroring his own longing expression.
“At this time, I’m working with a program that assists children...” His voice is gravelly, and he pauses to swallow. “Kids who need a cleft palate surgery to repair a birth defect. That, and emergency situations where a patient is in critical condition and far from a large city’s facility. We do what we can to stabilize, transport, and then preform once at the hospital.”
“That doesn’t fully answer my question.”
His lips curls at my sass. “I’m licensed to undertake any surgical need my patients have, Mila. Emergency or otherwise. That, and my bedside manner is impeccable, I’ve been told.”
“You’re going to—”
“Guys, can we go already?” Crissy says from somewhere behind me. There’s a hint of a giggle in her tone. “People are staring at the two of you while you’re oblivious and blocking part of the pier’s entrance.”
“Tough shit. They can all walk around.” He chuckles, not giving a crap about the staring I can now feel.
Me, on the other hand, I squeak and burrow further against his chest. “We should just keep walking.” How does he do this to me? Make me forget the world around us?
I never thought I would be someone who enjoys PDA.
“Quit moving like that, doll.” It’s a warning. “Not while we are in public at least.”
I really want to ask or what? The question sits on my tongue a minute too long because on my next blink, I am out of his arms and being walked down the long wooden structure. Crystal is snickering beside me, her eyes flicking between my surprised ones and the now unhappy men.
Nick is walking a few steps behind me and grumbling—an almost low growl that to me sounds adorkable. His displeasure is endearing.
“Thank you,” I breathe out the closer to the restaurant we get. I’m taking in the fresh air, and the fog I’m under is starting to recede. Nick consumes me in a way that he is all I see. The world dissolves, and I forget my decorum the moment he gives me a smile.
“We need to focus, Mimi.” Her fingers dig into my arm, and now that I take a better look at her, she is flustered, breathing a tiny bit hard while trying to regain her own composure. “Those men are dangerous, and I like it.”
I nod, biting my lip. “Nick is an unstoppable force, and his sole attention is on me. It’s thrilling, to be honest…makes me feel sexy.”
“Same as Evan. The mouth on that man...” she trails off, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thought.
“Okay, so how do we get the upper hand here? Make them sweat a bit—discombobulate their swagger?”
“Mimi…” she giggles low “…what is it with you and that word?”
Shrugging, I cast another look back. Yup, his eyes are still on me. “I just like to say it.”
“Dork.”
“Bite me.” Flicking my eyes to the front, I look out toward the large structure overlooking the water, and an idea pops into my head. “What if we sit next to each other? They can take their place, across from us, while we play the role of interrogators. I’ve seen a few detective shows, and I’m confident we can make them crack.”
“You think they’ll go for that?”
Yeah, I’m incredulous myself. “Maybe. At the least we can try?”
“Let’s make it our stipulation or we walk.” A snort behind us causes Crissy to squeak. “Quit eavesdropping!”
“You’re adorable, babe,” Evan calls out as we march inside the building, ignoring them. For the next few minutes, we pretend to be alone as we make our way to the second story, and then as we are seated at a table for four outside.
The view is spectacular.
The breeze cools me as Nicholas takes his place to my right. Eyes on mine, he smiles and it’s devilishly sweet.
If Nick touches me, I can’t think.
If Nick continues to smirk at me, I will jump him in a crowded restaurant. He’s making me a hussy. His hussy.
I’m screwed, and he knows this. He plans to make this lunch as painful as possible.
