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“Booker,” she started, dropping her arms to her side and sliding the still ringing phone onto the exam table. “I’m only teasing…”
Her voice trailed off as he rounded on her, snatching the phone and hitting the green button in a single motion.
“Hello….Yeah, George, it’s Booker…I’m afraid Dee’s a bit under the weather at the moment and we’re going to have to reschedule…I’m aware of the seriousness of the discussion and I assure you that when I explain the confrontation with Perry you will have zero reservations to keep me as your spokesperson…Yes, sir. Monday—” Booker shot her a questioning glance and waited. Did she want him to confirm the date? When he widened his eyes and waved a hand at her, she assumed so and nodded vigorously. “Monday will be wonderful. I look forward to it. Talk to you soon.”
As he ended the call, Booker blew out a long breath. Dee did, too, and the magnitude of the situation settled around her. She had nearly kissed Booker Watson. Worse, she had dropped the ball with Touchdown Taffy.
Skipping over the missed kiss—as she was in no way ready for that conversation—Dee set out to tackle the professional problem she had caused. “I’m so sorry, Booker. You needed that meeting.”
“I know, but you’re in no condition today. We’ll have it after you’re better.” Booker smiled at her and Dee tried to reciprocate. She found it hard to, though. Something about his statement rankled her.
While she appreciated the sentiment behind Booker’s kind words, she had taken care of herself and her son, alone, for fifteen years. She didn’t need someone to look after her. Nor did she need for her boss to decide today of all days that he could do her job better than she could. Did he not realize the social suicide he had committed with his suspension? She did, all too well.
She needed to reign in her emotions and get the two of them back on track. “With all due respect, Mr. Watson, that’s not your call to make. I worked for months to secure this meeting and in light of your current suspension, continuing the conversation today would have been in your best interest.”
Cocking his head to one side, Booker studied her. Intently. So intently she had to force herself not to shrink beneath his olive stare. A corner of his mouth turned up. In a single stride, he was directly in front of her.
“No doubt, Dee,” Booker paused, letting her name hang in the air, sweet and light from his honeyed tone. “You’re right. It would have been in my best interest to continue the meeting today. But I’m more worried about your best interest.”
Dee opened her mouth. Then, closed it. She didn’t understand why Booker was prioritizing her needs over his own or why he was taking away her executive authority. Since taking the position, she’d been trusted to take care of his social image and she’d done an excellent job at it. She’d been content with their arrangement of email correspondence, occasional video chats, and seldom face-to-face contact. Too, she’d been happy with their associate—not friend—status. Why did Booker care now? Worse, why did she like that he did?
A single word slipped past her lips. “Why?”
“Because,” Booker started, slowly, as if uncertain of the answer himself. He stared at her like the right words to say were written beneath her skin and he was Superman with x-ray vision. Finally, a smile broke out. “It’s your birthday.”
Dee narrowed her eyes, intent on pulling the real reason out of him, when the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted. The click-clack of heels grew louder until the noise stopped right outside Dee’s room.
Chapter Seven
Booker
“Knock, knock,” a high-pitched voice called as the curtain separating the room from the rest of the emergency department slid back. A petite, silver-haired lady stomped in. In one hand, she carried a clip board. In the other, a coffee cup three times the normal size.
Booker took his previous seat against the wall to allow walking room for her to reach Dee. She introduced herself as Dr. Stephens and asked what brought Dee in. As Dee recounted the events of the day, he listened about the pizza, the pineapple, and the injection that stopped the allergic reaction. Dr. Stephens flipped pages on a clipboard and called for a nurse to take Dee’s vitals. As the blood pressure cuff pumped, the doctor kept talking, “It appears that the injection did what it was supposed to do. Your oxygen saturation is good and you’re not wheezing anymore.”
“She was earlier after laughing too hard.” Booker chimed in, earning a glare from Dee.
“I see.” Dr. Stephens scribbled on the paper in front of her.
“Her ankle is sprained, too.”
Dr. Stephens quirked a brow. “Oh. Was the sprain caused by the episode?”
“No,” Booker answered for her, earning a death stare from Dee. “But since she’s here, might as well have a look at it.”
“Certainly. We can examine the ankle, but first we need to clear her breathing wise. If the wheezing starts again, let us know immediately. We can bring in an emergency inhaler or start oxygen if need be. Basically, we simply want to watch you for a few hours to make sure you’re stable. We’ll draw some blood, run a few tests, and monitor your vitals. As long as everything holds in the normal range, we’ll discharge you in a few hours. Sound good?”
Dee nodded and the doctor shook her hand. Just as Dr. Stephens was leaving, the phlebotomist walked in. Booker stood and inched to the doorway.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, stepping outside before Dee had a chance to respond. Him and needles? Not friends.
Booker strolled to the end of the hallway. With each step, he tried to wrap his head around the crazy day. What had started off horrible with his first pro-football suspension and a fight with his parents had turned out even more dramatic with a trip to the emergency room and an almost kiss. A kiss he would very much like to claim.
Unlike most of his team, Booker didn’t appear on the dating scene often. When he did, it was dinner and a goodnight kiss—or three. Nothing more. He didn’t do relationships. Hadn’t since…
Nope. Not going there.
But the spark between Dee and him couldn’t be ignored. How he hadn’t seen it before was beyond him. Her humor, her humility, her streak of sass. He adored it all. But he shouldn’t. She was his assistant. Business and romance were meant to be oil and water—never mixed.
