Deserve (4 page)

I peek at him under my lashes and swallow the breathy sigh
threatening to push through my lips.

As soon as I saw him standing on the curb, masculine face
taut with concentration, all the old feelings came rushing back. Only this
time, it was worse. This time a heaviness I never felt as a teenager sat low in
my belly.

I didn’t think it was possible—it’s really against the
laws of nature—but the man has become more gorgeous. Maturity has
hardened the angles of his face, giving him a predatory sharpness to his
features that is mesmerizing. When he looks directly at me, I get sucked into
the electric blue of his eyes.

Stop daydreaming,
Maggie. You’re not seventeen-years-old anymore.

I mentally shake myself and rein in my wayward feelings.

With sure movements, he guides his Jaguar into traffic. Once
he’s on the freeway, he throws me a grin and I’m glad I’m sitting down. “It
really is great to see you,
Mags
!”

“You too.”

“Why don’t we drop your things off at the dorm and then
we’ll grab lunch?”

My heart gives a little jump at the thought of going out
with him.

It’s not a date,
Maggie.

“Um…sure, I’d like that.” I take out my phone. “I better
text
Cael
before he calls the NYPD or the Coast
Guard.”

Sean chuckles at my semi-exaggeration, but he can afford to
find it funny.

Arrived in NY. Sean
just picked me up and we are headed to the dorms.

My brother must have been waiting for my text because his
response is immediate:
Good. Be careful.
Don’t walk alone at night.

“Ugh…when will he realize I’m not a kid any more?” I
complain and
text back
:
I’ll bring my bodyguard detail wherever I go.

Response:
Brat.

I smile sadly as I picture his exasperated expression. This move
is good for both of us, but I know I’ll miss him. After analyzing Rachel’s
words ad
nauseum
, I realize there’s a kernel of truth
in them. If he is to find happiness, he needs to let go of his outsized sense
of responsibility to me.

“So I guess
Cael
has a bit of an
empty nest syndrome?” Sean asks.

I wrinkle my nose and put away my phone. “I don’t know why.
I stayed in the dorms for four years at Urbana-Champaign. I would think he’s
used to it.”

“I think it’s the distance. New York is in a whole different
state after all and you know how
Cael
is about
control.”

I nod. My brother has always been a control freak, but it’s
gotten worse since our mom died. I know it’s rooted in the guilt he felt for
not being there when Mom got sick. “Maybe in a few months, he’ll realize I can
take care of myself.”

“Maybe,” he says skeptically. “I think
Cael
will see you as a little girl for the rest of his life.”

I stick out my bottom lip and blow a curl out of my face.
“Yeah. Sadly true, but a girl can wish.” Turning to look at his profile, I ask,
“So how have you been? How far down the list of supermodels have you gone?”

“Brat!” he accuses with a small smile on his lips.

 
I make a face at
the hated word. It used to be a term of affection from my brother, but Rachel
has forever tainted it. “So, how’s work?”

“It’s going. Marc and I are gathering witness testimony to
close out a case, but…” He rubs the tension from his neck and places his hand
back on the steering wheel. “The unsolved cases keep piling up. Sometimes it
feels like we hardly make a dent.”

The frustration is clear in his voice and I reach out to
touch his forearm in sympathy. “I’m sure you guys are doing your best and every
solved case means one less criminal on the streets. You have to see each one as
a step toward justice. Instead of seeing all the work ahead of you, it helps to
look back and see how far you’ve come.”

“You’re right. You’re so damn smart.” Flashing a white
smile, he covers my hand with his and squeezes, sending warmth traveling down
my arm.

Flustered, I cut off the contact by placing my hand in my
lap. “So…um…how’s your dad?”

I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips because
Sean’s
face hardens
. I’ve met George Rowan twice and
both times he was very nice to me, but father and son have a fraught
relationship. I asked
Cael
about it, but even he
doesn’t know why they are always at odds.

“He’s fine. Especially since he won re-election last year.”

“Good. I’m glad.” I frown at the sneer in Sean’s voice, but
I don’t delve deeper. I decide to change the subject to something light and
ask, “So what do you think of the latest book from Patricia Cornwell?
And the one from James
Montanari
?
I heard it’s really good, but I haven’t gotten my hands on it yet.”

For the rest of the ride, we argue about the latest mystery
slash suspense novels. I admit I started reading the genre when I saw how much
Sean liked the books, but now I love them on their own merits, especially when
the writer gets the details of the murders just right. Call me grisly, but as a
future doctor, I like accurate anatomical details.

We pull up to my dorm and there is a long line of cars and
vans double-parked outside.

I unclip my seatbelt. “Let me drop off my things and I’ll be
right back. In the housing email, they said someone has to stay with the car.”

Sean nods, gets out of the vehicle and opens the trunk. His
biceps flex as he places my heavy bags onto the sidewalk, but unlike earlier,
he easily lifts them without any strain. Faker.

Rolling my suitcases behind me, I walk into the hall and
can’t suppress a shiver of excitement. It feels unreal that I’m here. From the
dazed looks on many of the other students, I know they must feel the same. I
have been working hard to get to this point for a long time and now I’m finally
in medical school. I take a deep breath and savor the occasion.

Grinning happily, I check in and take the elevator to my
floor. Students nod at me as they pass me in the hall and I want to stop to
introduce myself, but I also want to go back to Sean as quickly as possible.
Promising myself I will have plenty of time to meet my fellow students later, I
drop off my things in my room and then hurry downstairs.

Sean is leaning against his dark green car, his thick arms
crossed over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles. His pose is
deceptively casual, but his cop’s eyes are never still. I imagine it’s an
ingrained habit even he’s unaware of.

I notice a number of women staring hungrily at him and I
smile ruefully. I can’t blame them. His broad shoulders alone make my mouth
water. And my panties uncomfortably damp.
Damn,
I need to stop thinking about him like this.

He spots me immediately and stands upright. “All set?”

“Yup.” I practically skip the few steps to his side.

Chuckling at my bounciness, he opens the door for me. He
slides into the driver’s seat and asks, “What do you feel like eating?”

“Ooh…can we have halal food?” I have been to New York a few
times and I love eating the spicy chicken and rice dish.

“Of all the great places you could eat in New York, you want
to eat street food?” he asks, blue eyes laughing at me.

Imagining the cosmopolitan women he is used to, I feel
momentarily embarrassed by my simple tastes. “We don’t have to.” I pull on a
corkscrew curl nervously and let it bounce back. Even knowing I look like
Orphan Annie when I do it, I can’t stop the gesture.

“I know the perfect vendors,” he says decisively and starts
the engine.

I smile in relief and sit back as Sean maneuvers the car
through the maddening Manhattan traffic. After we park, he guides me through
Midtown, his hand touching my back to steer me in the right direction. I try to
hide the effect he has on me, but my spine tingles with each graze of his
fingers.

We reach the food cart and stand at the end of a long line.
The tantalizing smell of grilled meat wafts to me and I do a little dance in
place. My stomach gives a faint rumble and I peer at Sean to see if he heard
the embarrassing sound.

“You know, one look at you and everyone will know you’re not
from New York.”

I blink up at him and then look down at myself in
bewilderment. I dressed for comfort for the plane ride in a t-shirt, jersey
skirt and leather sandals, but I don’t think I look outlandish. “How can they
tell?”

“Because you’re the only one in line who doesn’t look
annoyed to have to wait,” he says with a smile and then jerks his chin at the
rest of the customers.

A glance at the scowling men and women ahead of us, sighing
and glancing at their watches impatiently, confirms his theory. I shrug my
shoulders and smile wryly. “Life’s too short to be a grump.” I’m too happy to
let something inconsequential kill my good mood. I’m in New York City and I’m
starting medical school. My smile grows bigger.

“How is it you’re related to
Cael
?”
Sean asks in a wondering tone.

“He is a bit of a grouch, isn’t he?”

“He’s Oscar. All that’s missing is the garbage can.”

I laugh, picturing my brother’s face on the Sesame Street
character. “He’s not that bad, but he needs to lighten up if he’s going to get
someone to date him for longer than a few months.”

“Another one bites the dust?”

“Not yet, but it’s a close call.” I frown and consider his
deteriorating relationship with Rachel. A few days after their fight, they made
up, but I could tell things were precarious. Hopefully, my absence will ease
the tension between them.

“What about you? Leave any broken hearts behind in Chicago?”
Sean asks with a teasing grin.

I curse my fair skin as I feel the blood climb my cheeks.
“No.” I’ve only had one serious boyfriend, but we broke up last year when he
graduated. Asher was moving to the West Coast and I realized I didn’t love him
enough to move out there with him and he didn’t love me enough to stay on the
East Coast.

“That’s probably for the best.” My heart soars and then
plummets when he adds, “Since you’ll want to find a doctor boyfriend.”

Shoving aside my disappointment, I lean toward him and
whisper loudly, “I hear they make terrible boyfriends. They always have their
eyes on the nurses.”

“If someone ever hurts you, I’ll beat the shit out of them.”

Taken aback by his serious tone, I say hurriedly, “I was
just kidding.”

He smiles evilly and cracks his knuckles. “I wasn’t.”

“Ugh…you’re just like
Cael
.”

“That’s not true. When I punch someone, I do it with a smile
instead of a scowl.” He shows a mouthful of perfect teeth.

I try to look disapproving, but a giggle escapes.

We finally get to the front of the line and order our food.

“Extra red sauce, please,” I request and the man shoots me a
conspiratorial grin. He squirts an extra large dollop onto my chicken and wraps
up my plate. He’s fast and efficient and we have our food in our hands in what
feels like seconds.

“Where do you want to eat this? We can drive to the park—”

Without thinking about it, I grab Sean’s hand and a current
runs up my arm. “I saw some benches back there.” Self-consciously, I drop his
hand and start walking to the small outdoor area I saw earlier.

It’s already two p.m. and there are plenty of free spaces.
We find a shady spot and set our take-out trays on the stone table.

“My mouth is already watering from the smell.” I open my box
and take a deep inhale.

“I see you still love spicy foods,” he remarks on the red
liquid smothering my chicken.

“Yup!” I lift a forkful to my mouth and savor the blast of
burning heat. I flap my hand over my mouth as it forms an o.

Sean laughs and hands me a bottle of water. “A little too
much for you?”

“Hell no! It’s just right. Spicy enough to be painful.”
Despite my breezy words, I take a big gulp of water. The first bite is always a
shock to the taste buds.

“That doesn’t sound like food. That sounds like torture.” He
starts eating his own rice and gyros. No red sauce.

“The pain lets you know you’re alive!” I say cheerfully and
laugh at his disbelieving expression.

For long minutes, we eat quietly. I’m gratified to see that
Sean is enjoying the peasant fare as much as I am.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a doctor.” Sean finishes
his food and sets the empty plate to the side.

I wave my fork with a flourish. “Believe it. Get used to
calling me Dr. Jackson.”

Grinning, he takes a swig of his own drink. “What
specialty?”

“Pediatrics.”

He raises a sleek brow. “What made you want to become a
pediatrician?”

“I like kids.” I have found that when people ask the question,
they are not really curious. They only want an easy and expedient answer.

He slants me a look and says, “Come on,
Mags
.
I know there’s more to it than that.”

I should have known Sean would not be satisfied with the pat
reply. Maybe it’s his training as a cop. Maybe it’s just his inherently
incisive nature, but he always seems to sense when there’s more.

“Tell me,” he urges.

Feeling pleasantly full, I put down my fork and place the
box on the seat next to us. I take a long sip of my water before I start to
explain. “Well, it’s true. I do like kids.” I curl up a leg and tuck my ankle
under my right thigh. “Did
Cael
ever tell you about
the time I had appendicitis?”

“No. How old were you?”

“I was seven and
Cael
was fifteen.
It happened when our mom was working a late shift. All night, I complained that
I didn’t feel well and that my tummy hurt.
Cael
thought it was just a stomachache, but then I started vomiting and running a
fever. We didn’t want to call Mom because she was always complaining that her
boss was looking for an excuse to fire her.”