The Agreement (2 page)

After washing up, I pushed the door open and
knocked into Dr. Delish himself as he was walking past to the men's room.

When I bumped into him, my ankles almost turned
in completely like a kid on ice skates for the first time. I fought to stand
up, grasping onto him to prevent myself from falling.

"
Whoa
," he said, catching me by
the arms, pulling me close. "
Steady
…"

"Oh, so sorry," I said as I grabbed
onto his shoulders and glanced up into his eyes.

Oh. My.
God
.

He was gorgeous. He smelled like heaven.

His glanced at my feet and the ridiculously high
heels on which I tottered like a child learning to walk.

"I'm not really used to these."

"Trying to defy the laws of physics?"
he said and smiled as he helped steady me, his gaze moving slowly down my body
to my feet again. "Nice shoes though.
Love
the leather
straps…"

"Thank you," I said, my cheeks
heating. I straightened up with his help and smiled, then I turned back to the
tables, my heart racing just a bit.

When I got back, I took a huge sip of my drink.

"I just bumped into Dr. Delish."

Dawn raised her eyebrows. "What's he
like?"

"He smells as good as he looks."

I watched Dr. Delish return to his place at the
bar. He spoke to his drinking partner for a moment, finished his martini and
then checked his cell. After he buttoned his top shirt button and tightened his
tie, he threaded his way through the tables. When he left, he glanced my way,
catching my eye briefly, a quick smile on his face when he recognized me. What
a smile it was. I felt a little thrill go through me and smiled back.

"There goes trouble," I said,
wistfully. "Maybe you're right after all. My spidey-senses
are
tingling."

"And
that
," Dawn said, leaning
in closer, "is why you're stuck with Big. You, my dear BFF, are a
bona
fide
dork.
Spidey-senses
..."

I grinned at that. "Well then, we're nerd
central." We smiled at each other. While Dawn didn't like bad boys, I
couldn't help but wish I was the natural companion to Doctor Dangerous instead
of the techies at Columbia's IT department.

After finishing my drink, I checked my cell.
There was a message from Nigel, wondering where I was.

Get your sweet little self over here. I couldn't
bring Brian tonight, given the company your father keeps, so don't leave me all
alone with these stuffed suits!

"Guess it's time for me to go to my
father's," I said and finished the last of my drink. "Nigel's texting
me. Will you be ok until Jill gets here?"

"She just texted me. She'll be here any
minute. Have fun!"

"Have fun? Have you ever been to one of
these fundraisers? It's all fake smiles and shaking hands. Besides, my
father
will be there."

"Nigel too," she said, reminding
me.                      

Nigel –
Sir
Nigel Benson, recently
knighted by Her Majesty for his humanitarian service. Host of
Travel with
Nigel
, his popular TV show on PBS. He was active in Doctors Without Borders
and spent time with me in Africa when I was there doing volunteer work, writing
an investigative piece for my Honors project in Journalism at Columbia. He
quickly became part big brother, favorite uncle and best friend to me. We'd
been through so much together in Africa, and he'd seen me at my absolute worst
but still stood by me. I felt as if he knew me almost better than I knew
myself.

"Thank God for Nigel."

I pulled on my coat and left the bar, hailing a
cab to take me to my father's apartment on Park Avenue. I decided to enter
through the rear door to the building. I did
not
want to go into the
front door where I knew everyone would be standing around with drinks in their
hand, and all eyes would turn to me. My fourth mistake was thinking I could
maneuver the back alley in the dark in those heels with two drinks in me. I was
no match for the terrible cement with its cracks and loose gravel…

I fell just outside the door to the building, my
ankle twisting, me going down on one side, my ankle, knees and the palms of my
hands bearing the brunt of the fall. The only saving grace was that I was alone
so no one witnessed my awkward tumble. My knees were cut by rough stones, my
palms scuffed, and my ankle was killing me. My pride hurt almost as much as my
other wounds.

By the looks of the cuts, I'd have a few more
scars to add to the others I'd received over the years from trying to do things
I shouldn't. As a young tomboy fighting to keep up with my brother, who was
older by four years, I'd received a fair number of scars. My knees had first
been christened when I tried to pogo stick after he did and fell ingloriously.
Then, there were the stilts… My bottom lip still bore a faint scar where my
teeth went through it.

After I removed my shoes, one of the heels
having broken when my ankle went over, I had to struggle up to my feet. I
limped in stocking feet into the rear of the building, gasping each time I put
pressure on my injured foot, using the pass code to get inside. I took the
service elevator up to the top floor to my father's apartment. I entered what
was once-upon-a-time the servant's entrance, hoping to sneak into the bathroom
and tend my wounds, find a pair of my stepmother's shoes before facing the
financial elite and asking for handouts for Nigel's charity.

I hopped down the hall to the bathroom only to
find that Dr. Delish himself was there, on his way out. Dr. Dangerous is at my
father's fundraiser? Doctors Without Borders – made sense but I did
not
want someone that good looking to be witness to my ineptitude.

He spied me before I could turn and hop away, my
nylons torn, palms, ankle and knees bloody.

"You're
hurt
," he said and
frowned, coming right to my side, glancing at the heels I held in one hand.
"Those shoes again?"

"Yes." Of all people to see me, he had
to be the one... "I fell outside in the alley. The heel of my shoe
broke."

Up close, he was devastatingly handsome, and
when our eyes met, I swear heat rose in my face like mercury in a thermometer.
I had this instant response that my conscious mind had no control over, as if
my body was screaming 
Mate with this one. He's got the goods.

My response was purely animalistic.

Absolutely 
gorgeous,
he was tall but
not too tall, about six feet compared to my five foot three. Up close and in
good lighting instead of that in the pub, his hair was almost black, his brows
and eyelashes as well, and his eyes were that blue which reminded me of the
Aegean off the coast of Corfu. Fair skin. A thin layer of whiskers covered his
chin and jaw. A face of such symmetry, it was geometric, all planes and angles
but his mouth – his mouth was soft, his lips full. I could imagine that
mouth on mine, or moving over my skin…

All of this registered in the merest of seconds
while he adjusted his slate grey silk suit jacket, which was open to reveal a
crisp white linen shirt and grey tie, the fabrics all the best quality. He had
good taste in clothes, and the money to feed it.

"Here," he said and put his arm under
mine and then he actually picked me up.

"
Whoa
," I said, trying to
resist, hating to be carried by anyone. "You don’t have to pick me
up."

"Don't worry. You're light as a feather.
You've probably sprained your ankle."

My hands went around his neck and I was two
inches from his face, my own face hot with embarrassment. He found my parent's
bedroom at the rear of the apartment and placed me on the bed, sitting across
from me. My dress had hiked up, the tops of my sheer black nylons and black
lace garters on display for him to see.

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening. I
quickly drew down my dress to cover them.

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry," he said, smiling just a
bit. He placed my injured foot on his lap so he could examine it. "I'm a
doctor."

I took off my coat, warm from it and his gaze.
"Still, you shouldn't have to see that."

"Oh, I don't mind." He grinned without
meeting my eye as he moved my ankle back and forth. "I don't mind at
all
."

"Ouch!" I said when he moved my ankle
a bit too far in one direction.

He glanced up at my face. "That
hurts?"

I nodded.

"What about this way?" He twisted it
the other way, gently this time.

"Not as much."

He felt around, prodding my foot, my ankle and
the bone above it in my calf.

"Don't think it's broken. You might as well
take off those nylons. I'll have to treat those lacerations."

"Oh, yeah," I said, and hesitated. I
waited, and he watched me expectantly.

"
Oh
." He glanced away, smiling
a bit sheepishly.

I quickly unhooked the garter clasps to one leg
and rolled down the nylon. Then, the bastard peeked while I was busy undoing
the garters to the other leg.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry," he said and turned his head
away again, grinning widely. "Just don’t get to see real garters very
often."

"My best friend made me wear them. Now
she'll be pissed that I ruined her nylons."

"It's a shame they were destroyed," he
said softly, a hint of humor in his voice. "I especially like the ones
with the seam up the back. Really retro."

Once my nylons were off and I readjusted
everything, he started to examine my calves, running his hand up my leg on the
injured side, checking the bone. I had to spread my thighs a bit so he could
examine my knees, and blushed profusely when I had to jam my dress between them
to cover my crotch.

"Calves and knees look
great
,"
he said, a faint smile on his face. 

He left me on the bed and went to the en-suite
bathroom. I heard him opening and closing cabinet doors and drawers. Finally,
he emerged with a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls, some gauze and
bandages. He also had a wet washcloth. He then tended my wounds, wiping the
dirt off my knees and ankle.

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"Neurosurgeon."

"So you cut up brains?"

"Something like that," he said, a
half-smile on his lips. "I don’t cut them up as much as fix them.
Robotically-assisted electrophysiology is my specialty. Using electrodes to
treat disorders like Parkinson's and epilepsy. You're thinking pathologist. But
don’t worry," he said as he washed the dirt off my knees. "We also
learned to look after superficial wounds. And I have a truckload of insurance,
just in case you're wondering…"

He daubed the cuts and scrapes with the
peroxide-soaked cotton balls. It stung a bit, but not too badly. All the while
he was tending my injuries, I got the chance to see him up close. Man, was he
beautiful. His black hair was a bit longish and wild as if he was just caught
in the wind. Dark arched brows. Blue
blue
eyes fringed with thick black
lashes. A bit of scruff on his face, and a jaw that screamed perfection.

He was perhaps the hottest man I'd ever seen.

"You'll be fine. Don't need stitches. Just
a bit of antibiotic ointment and a few bandages. But you should rest your
ankle.  Are you going to stay or do you need a ride home?"

"I better stay. Do you know who Elaine is?
Can you ask her to come and speak to me?"

He nodded. "Sure. If that ankle doesn't get
markedly better in a couple of days, you might want to get an x-ray. Can't do
anything for a broken bone in your foot but rest it. You could probably use
some crutches."

He smiled at me and left me on the bed.

I'd just met Doctor Delish. It took me a few
moments to recover.

CHAPTER TWO

In a moment, Elaine came rushing in and sat on
the bed, hugging me.

"Oh, Kate it's
you
! You poor
dear," she said, examining my cuts and ankle. "Drake told me this
guest had fallen and wanted to talk to me. I had no idea it was you!"

Drake?
  Dr. Delish finally had a name.

"Yeah, we didn't introduce ourselves. Can I
borrow something safe in the shoe department? I fell outside because I wore
those
,"
I said and pointed to the high heels on the floor.

"Of course," she said and went right
to her huge walk-in closet with racks of shoes, sorting through her collection.
She pulled out a pair of black ballet slippers and held them out. "Will
these do?"