Teresa Southwick - Holding Out for Doctor Perfect

“Look, Dr…. Spencer,” she said. “There’s nothing to say. After today, any personal obligations that we have in common are fulfilled.”

“But there’s still our mutual business trip,” he reminded her.

“Mutual, meaning shared. But that’s not the case with us. You’ll do your thing. I’ll do mine. Our paths may be parallel, but won’t necessarily cross. So, again, no air to clear.”

“So, you don’t want to meet my family?”

“Excuse me?”

“My parents live in Dallas. My sister and her family will be there on vacation at the same time.”

“Is that why you were so—” She stopped for a moment, searching for the right adjective. “So aggressive in your pursuit of robotic technology?”

“If I wanted to visit, I’m perfectly capable of doing that on my own. Combining objectives is better time management. My schedule is complicated and it can be a challenge to work in a vacation. Surgery can’t always be put on hold. Emergencies happen. You get my point.”

“I do,” she agreed. “But, I have a budget meeting with the regional VP and you’re seeing family. As I said, we won’t be joined at the hip. So, still no air to clear.”

There was no animosity in her expression, just a matter-of-fact resignation. Usually women wanted to cross his path. They went out of their way to stand smack in the center of his path so there was no way on earth he could possibly miss them.

Not this woman.

He couldn’t swear that there wasn’t just a little ego involved in his curiosity to figure out how she rolled, what was going on with her. Why she wasn’t interested.

“Why do you dislike me?”

“I don’t.” Her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

“I’m the first to admit that sometimes my determination can be off-putting—”

“Really? That’s the best description you’ve got?” She smiled, but it was brittle around the edges.

“Okay. My standards are high. I can be a real pain.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“I’m told determination is a good quality.”

“Unless you’re going after something you can’t have,” she said.

He had a feeling they were no longer talking about surgical technology.

“So, you don’t like me.”

“Let’s just say you remind me of someone.”

“And you don’t like him?”

“No, I don’t.” That signature O’Neill frown darkened her eyes again. “Now, if that’s it, I’m going to join the celebration on the patio.”

That wasn’t all, but he didn’t stop her from leaving. Spencer knew he was paying the price for whatever the jerk she didn’t like had done to put the twist in her panties. He would be happy to un twist and remove said panties, but it was going to take some effort.

He was nothing if not a high achiever, and determination was his middle name. However long it took, he was going to show her that he was a nice doctor who more than met her criteria for having sex.

Bright and early Monday morning, Avery walked into her office at Mercy Medical Center where her assistant was waiting. Chloe Castillo was a brown-eyed, curly-haired brunette in her mid-twenties. She was pretty, smart, funny and, right now, quivering with anticipation.

“I want to hear all about the wedding,” she said. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah.” She followed from the outer reception area into Avery’s office and rested a hip on the desk.

“The weather was absolutely perfect. There were just enough clouds to put pink, purple and gold in the sky.”

“You just love torturing me, don’t you?” Chloe sighed. “I guess my questions need to be more specific. How did Ryleigh look?”

“If she weren’t my best friend, I could really dislike that woman. She couldn’t look bad after mud wrestling a pig. But a pregnant bride? In a word? Awesome.” Avery smiled at the memory. “She was completely stunning in a simple, strapless, satin floor-length gown. I thought Nick was going to swallow his tongue when he first saw her. And Spencer said—”

Now she’d done it. Opened a can of worms. The last thing she wanted to talk about was him, but she knew that gleam in Chloe’s dark eyes. Fat chance her assistant had missed the slip, let alone allow her to slam that particular door shut. Although in a very committed relationship, she had a notorious crush on the hospital’s exceptional heart surgeon.

“What did Doctor Hottie say?” she prompted. “Spill it, girl.”

Avery sighed. “He said he’d never seen Ryleigh look more beautiful.”

“And?”

“How do you know there’s an ‘and’?”

“I can tell by the way your mouth is all pinchy and tight.” Chloe folded her arms over an impressive bosom. “Your body language couldn’t be more closed if you were wearing a straightjacket.”

The downside of this woman’s intelligence and friendship was that she didn’t miss anything and wasn’t afraid to ask about what you’d left out. Avery met her gaze. “He told her that all brides should be pregnant.”

“Oh. My. God.” Chloe’s expression was rapturous as she made each individual word a complete sentence. “Silver tongue devil. How sweet is that?”

Avery couldn’t agree more, but didn’t allow the envy she felt for her friend to get in the way of wanting more than anything for her to be happy. Spencer’s lovely words had crossed her mind more than once during Ryleigh and Nick’s reception. Avery had been pregnant once and thought she was going to be a bride, but Fate stepped in and said, not so fast.

“Ryleigh ate it up,” she said to her assistant.

“Of course she did. What woman overflowing with estrogen wouldn’t?”

Avery resisted the urge to raise her hand. Spencer Stone definitely had a way with words, but talk was cheap. Actions spoke louder and nothing he’d done had changed her mind about him being a scalpel-wielding, stethoscope-wearing Lothario.

“So …” She looked at her assistant. “Nick and Ryleigh are married again. Now we have work—”

Chloe held up a hand. “That pathetically small amount of information didn’t even begin to take the edge off my curiosity.”

That’s what Avery was afraid of. It was too much to hope she’d get off that easily. Chloe wasn’t the only one fascinated with him. Most of the female population at Mercy Medical Center acted like twits when the heartthrob heart doctor sashayed down the hall. Avery was the only exception as far as she knew, but maybe she was the only one who’d been so profoundly and personally burned in the past by someone she’d trusted.

Someone just like Spencer.

“What else do you want to know?” Her assistant wouldn’t give up until all the pertinent facts were out there. It was best to know what facts she considered pertinent and keep the rest to herself.

“Tell me about your dress.”

She smiled, cutting through her tension. “It’s gorgeous. Lavender with the most feminine skirt that swirled like silk heaven when I walked. The sleeves and bodice are sheer and—”

“What?” Chloe said eagerly.

“Nothing. Just that I found a pair of four-inch heels that matched perfectly.”

There was no point in sharing that Spencer had looked her up and down as if he liked what he saw. His gaze had lingered for a while on her chest and there was a shade of curiosity in his expression as he’d studied her. At that moment she’d been dying to know what was going through his mind, then reality reasserted itself and she let the question go. The saying that curiosity killed the cat was a saying for a reason.

“Tell me what the doc was wearing.”