Playing Doctor

Chapter Fifteen

Remember the details-invest in lace. Nothing kills a fantasy faster than cotton briefs.

-Strip Style: A Guide for Aspiring Exotic Dancers

Gray rang the doorbell at precisely six o'clock the next evening.

I walked downstairs to the landing, slowly, to counteract the manic beating of my heart. I swung open the door and tried not to show how nervous I was. "Hello."

"Hello, darling." He placed his hand on my waist and dropped a light but languid kiss on my lips. "Shall we go?"

I waited until my legs would hold me up before I nodded and locked the door. His hand on my back, I let him guide me down the porch steps to his car.

I wasn't surprised that he owned an old two-seater. Mena would have been able to rattle off the make, model, and year in the blink of an eye, but all I could say was that it looked newly refurbished and was a nice shade of red.

Trying not to think how his car was as unordinary as the rest of him and what that might mean, I carefully buckled myself in.

"You seem nervous."

"How can you tell?"

He nodded at my lap. "The way you're clenching your hands."

"Oh." I forcibly relaxed them. He was right-I was astonishingly nervous. I had never gone to a man's home before. Even while Kevin and I were dating he'd never invited me to his place, and then we'd moved in together. I guess that should have been a flag, but I'd just assumed he'd been embarrassed by the state of his bachelor pad. Men weren't the most organized creatures.

Plus, this wasn't just any man: it was a Mensa card carrying, too handsome doctor. Exchange the Hawaiian shirts for suits and I'd have another Kevin.

I glanced at Gray. Actually, he was more attractive than Kevin. And wittier. And sexier. And he kissed like a demigod.

Still. I gripped the seatbelt. I should have turned him down. I should have told him I needed to groom my rats. I should have-

"You don't have anything to worry about." He lifted my wrist to his lips. "I really only have dinner and a movie in mind."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"I'm not saying it won't be difficult, but I promise to be on my best behavior." He kissed my wrist again but instead of letting it go, he held it in his hand, propped on his thigh.

It didn't take long to arrive at his place. He parked his car in a parking lot and took me up in an elevator, holding my hand the entire time.

My hand in his distracted me, but not enough so I didn't notice the disorder when he ushered me into his apartment. The space itself was spacious, bright, and modern, but there was stuff all over-splashes of color as bright as the Hawaiian shirts he favored. All the surfaces were covered with things: magazines, random artwork, and picture frames.

For a moment, the chaos made me dizzy. Only then I really looked. The color made the apartment warm, and the photographs added humanity. A delicious aroma teased my nostrils.

I remembered the sterile flat I shared with Kevin in Palo Alto and frowned. This chaos was so much homier than my former barren apartment.

"You don't like it?"

Actually, this was exactly how I imagined a real home would look. "It's kind of unorganized," I replied cautiously.

Grinning, he squeezed my hand. "I knew you'd love it. Come into the kitchen. I have to check my sauce."