Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

“So, Doc, where are we headed in our casuals?” Neal’s hand moved to the small of my back and he led me out the door. I could get used to this. Really.

“It’s a surprise.”

Yikes. He’d leaned closer to my ear, as if I couldn’t hear normal talking, and when his breath tickled my cheek, I sighed and mumbled, “A surprise sounds…surprising.”

A surprise sounds surprising?

What the hell? I really needed to take a deep breath and to get out more. I let Neal guide me to his car. After I got in, I took several long, slow breaths to get my wits about me. This was way too much excitement for a gal from Hope Valley.

Newport. Money. House with a name. Handsome doc. Wow.

I’m there.

As we drove along Bellevue, Neal cranked up the CD on his stereo. Not much into music except the few country songs I liked by Trisha Yearwood and Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying,” I was not any kind of expert.

By the time we made it down to America’s Cup Avenue, I couldn’t stand the suspense. “Come on, Neal. Give me a clue.”

He laughed.

My heart danced and hormones surged.

“We’re almost there. Patience is a virtue, Pauline.”

“Ha! You just enjoy being in charge!” We laughed some more and soon Neal turned into a parking lot at the marina. “We’re going on a boat?”

Yikes. Water. Not a good swimmer. Maybe seasickness.

“No.” He shut the car off, leaned near, touched my hair, gently pushing it behind my ear, and said, “We’re going on my boat.”

“Oh…my…God…that sounds…fantastic,” I whispered, as if I could swim to save my life if the boat capsized.

Something that large is not going to capsize, Pauline, I told myself, looking at the gigantic white yacht bobbing gracefully before me, all the while twisting my pink locket in my hands. I’d forgotten to take it off when changing, but it came in handy for nervous energy.

Neal bustled about with lines and carrying stuff from the car. A picnic basket of sorts that I wondered might be filled with food was the first thing he’d brought out.

The boat bobbed.

My stomach lurched.

Damn. “I wish I had some Dramamine in my purse,” I mumbled.

“Prone to seasickness?” Neal asked.

I swung around, ready to jump in the water and drown myself. “Umm.”

“We could head back to a drugstore and get some, but then I’ll be late making my post-op rounds tonight.”

I thought of Goldie. “No. I don’t want you to do that.” I opened my purse and started to look inside.

“Well, what do you have in there? Anything of use?” he asked.

I dug around until I found my pill case, opened it and took out a little pink and white capsule.

“Well, there you go. Benadryl. Should help. Take that,” he said and eased my hand toward me. “Good thing you had it.”

“I carry Benadryl in case I ever have some weird allergic reaction.”

“Even though it’s not for motion sickness, Pauline, it might help alleviate any nausea because it has the histamine blocker ability.” His eyes kind of sparkled when he said it. I smiled to myself. Doc Neal looked so proud of himself. Then again, maybe he just wanted me to enjoy the boat ride.

Made sense coming from a doctor, so I promptly popped it into my mouth.

He looked at me and smiled.

I smiled back then thought, Shit. I only hope the Benadryl doesn’t make me sleepy!

The pictures on the wall shifted-as did my stomach.

I looked up from my comfy spot in the cabin near Neal and watched him sail or drive or whatever the yacht until we were out in the Atlantic far enough that I couldn’t see any land.

How romantic…if I didn’t barf.

If I didn’t watch the pictures sway, hear the swells of water outside the front window or acknowledge that this teeny, tiny boat could actually flip over like the Poseidon, I would be enjoying myself.

Then I yawned.

“Is it the company?” Neal asked, turning around to look at me.

“Hey, keep your eye on the road, water, whatever. And, no, it isn’t the company.” I yawned two more times. “I think yawning is a sign of lack of oxygen.”

He did something with some parts on what I called the dashboard of this vessel and walked over to me, bent down and took my hands in his. “Then we need to do something about that. Maybe mouth-to-mouth?”

As his delicious lips covered mine, I muttered, “Shouldn’t someone be at the helm…what the hell is a helm…or…”

Neal took my head in his hands, kissed me several times and kissed me again. “No need. We’re fine.”

“Umm. Fine. We’re…” Suddenly he lifted me up and all my motion worries vanished.

The bright sun had settled below the horizon, casting a reddish-pink glow across the sky and water. The waves seemed to calm in order to give us a few special minutes to…

How fabulous!

I figured Neal knew what he was talking about by letting the boat float around all by itself. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

We’d drift out to sea and have to spend more time together?

“I seem to be getting my money’s worth-” I kissed him behind the ear and amid his moans finished with, “-out of this date.”

A deep chuckle tickled my cheek. Neal’s arms were around me, over me, and like some testosterone-soaked octopus, on every wonderful part of me. Getting a little rough, but guys will be guys.

This time we moaned in pleasure together.

“Ever made love out at sea?” he asked against my cheek.

I paused. There was that one cruise I’d taken, but with all the murders, making love had not been on my itinerary. “Nope.”

Neal lifted me up and carried me toward the stairs, which led down to a cabin-the likes of which were fancier than my condo at home, and I’d never tell Miles that since he owned and decorated it.

The sandstone walls were circular, as were the mahogany dressers built into said walls, which surrounded a-you guessed it-circular bed. Gold, brown and navy striped covers neatly sat on the mattress with pillow shams, with drapes and two stuffed chairs to match.

Very nautical bachelor.

“Beautiful,” I said as he set me down on the duvet. “You the interior decorator?”

He chuckled. “Surgeons-make that most men in general-are not very good at that stuff.”

Then who was? Damn it! I had no business asking that question.

While I chastised myself, Neal busied himself with removing my jacket, unbuttoning my blouse and slipping it off. He then very gently set it on the bedside chair. How cute.

Not the most spontaneous person around, I asked again, “Are you sure no one needs to be upstairs driving this thing?”

“I’m sure, Pauline. I’ve been sailing since I was about nine.” Oops. I thought I’d just insulted him. He gently undid my pink locket and carefully set it on the pile of my clothing.

“But you’re not sailing.” He nuzzled my neck at the spot just below my jawline. Oh…wow. Good thing he’d taken off the locket or it might have accidentally sprayed him. That would be a real sexual deal breaker for sure.

“She’s well-equipped with instruments, lights, an anchor and all kinds of fancy stuff so that we can…do what the hell we want down here. Besides, it’s a quiet night, but with the bright full moon any other boats that pass by will clearly see us. Stop worrying.”

I hadn’t even thought of another boat ramming into us. “Thanks for that,” I said.

Neal lifted me up slightly to yank the duvet and covers down. The sheets had to have been woven with a thousand thread count. I felt as if I could slide right off the side with the tilt and roll of the boat.

And my mind had been too preoccupied with Neal to remember that earlier I’d felt like seasick crap.