The Greek Doctor's Proposal (8 page)

Trish glared at Jeannine and crossed her arms. “That’s what I want to know. What was all that with Dr. Hottie?
See you Saturday night?
Spill it!”

Despite a great desire not to, Jeannine flushed. “I’m not sure what you—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Trish interrupted, and hopped onto the table. “You have a date with the sexiest doctor in the entire hospital, don’t you?”

“It’s…it’s…not really a date,” she said in a rush. “It’s more of a…public relations obligation.” That sounded good, didn’t it?

“I knew it!” Trish jumped down, took Jeannine by the arm and dragged her to the table. “Now I want all the gory details. Every single one of them.”

Jeannine hesitated. “I worked with him on a complicated trauma last week, and we’ve been…together a few times since then.”

Trish’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “You mean,
as in together…together? In the buff, in a
bed
together? Oh, my God!”

“No, no, no!” Jeannine denied, and felt her flush burn her skin. “But we did actually sleep…in the same bed…together…when we were in Las Cruces. Saturday night.”

“Cruces?” Trish narrowed her eyes. “I think you’d better start at the beginning. You’re leaving way too many details out.”

Jeannine told her story, but kept Miklo’s past out of it. It wasn’t her secret to share. In a way, the telling of her story was a relief, unloading all of the emotions swirling around in her. Trish sat back in her chair. “Wow. You’ve been through so much, and it still might not be over. There’s a chance you may not conceive, isn’t there?” Trish asked, and sat forward, taking Jeannine’s hands in hers.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, agreeing to this. But with the Chocolate Fantasy Ball coming up on Saturday night, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Unexpected tears filled Jeannine’s eyes. “He’s going to think I’m hideous. Knowing something and seeing it in front of your face are two entirely different things.”

Trish hugged Jeannine. “No, he won’t. He bought you that dress and wants to see you in it, right?”

Jeannine gave a watery nod. “It fits me perfectly, except that it reveals everything I want to hide.” She wiped away the tears she swore she’d never shed again. She’d stopped feeling sorry for herself a long time ago, but right now the pain of losing a baby and the uncer
tainty of a future one flooded over her. “I must be hormonal if I’m this weepy.”

Trish brightened and gripped Jeannine’s hand. “Hey! That’s a good sign, then. If you think your hormonal, then you must ovulate right? That means you might be able to bear children after all.” She looked at Jeannine. “I mean, that is, if you want them.”

Jeannine thought a moment. Did she really want children of her own? “I haven’t dared to think about it. I just don’t know.”

“So, what if you
could
have children with Dr. Hottie?”

“Trish! You are shameless,” Jeannine cried, but then laughed and the tension in her evaporated. Trish had become a good friend. “I don’t know that
Dr. Hottie
would even want to have a serious relationship with me, let alone have children with me.” She smacked her friend playfully on the arm. “Let me just get through the ball without embarrassing myself.”

“Okay, okay, if you insist.” Trish stood and looked at the clock. “We’d better get back to work. If you want, I’ll help you do your hair and make-up on Saturday night. I’m off, and it’s not like I have a date or anything.”

“Oh, would you really? I’d be so grateful.” Jeannine grasped Trish’s arm.

“I’ll be there at four o’clock.”

“He’s not coming until six.”

“Trust me,” Trish said, and patted Jeannine on the
shoulder. “We’re going to need every second for primping and girl time. In the meantime, you need a pair of dancing shoes and a bottle of champagne, Cinderella. You’re going to need ’em both.”

Jeannine nodded, thinking that they were going to need more than two hours to get her ready for the ball.

Jeannine was ready with fifteen minutes to spare. She stared at herself in the mirror. “I look like an idiot.”

“You do not! Stop maligning my artistic handiwork. I’ll be offended,” Trish said, and circled Jeannine, adjusting a curl, the hem of her dress in the back, and then nodding her approval. “I don’t know what this dress is made from, but it’s lovely. Feels like silk.”

“I was stupid to agree to this, good publicity or not,” Jeannine said, her insides trembling. “I’ll call him and cancel.”

Trish moved in front of her and blocked the path to the phone. Placing her hands on her friend’s face, she looked into Jeannine’s eyes. “You deserve to be happy. One bad relationship doesn’t mean you have to give up on ever having one.” Trish lightly patted Jeannine’s face. “Enjoy yourself and have a dance with Dr. Hottie for me.”

Jeannine laughed. “You can’t be serious for one minute, can you?”

“Sorry. Not in my job description,” Trish said, and gathered her things. “I’d better get out of here before he gets here. Men aren’t supposed to know about all the work that goes into such a masterpiece.”

“Trish, thanks. I couldn’t have faced tonight without you.” She hugged her friend.

“You’re gorgeous! Call me tomorrow and let me know how things went, okay?”

“Sure.”

As Trish escaped out the back door, Miklo rang the front doorbell.

Oh, God. Jeannine felt like a panicked rabbit facing a deadly predator. With no other choice, she opened the door.

And almost fainted.

Oh, God.
Miklo, in black tie attire, was enough to make her light-headed.

“Hi, there,” he said, and smiled. He looked her up and down and whistled. “You look exquisite, Jeannine.”

Oh, God!
She was just going to turn into a puddle in the middle of the floor. The sound of his voice sent shivers over every inch of her skin, and she pulled the velveteen shawl closer. “Thank you. It’s the dress. It would make anyone look good.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed, and held out his hand to her.

Tentatively, she reached out to him, knowing that if she took that step, there would be no turning back tonight. She stood on a threshold of decision in three-inch strappy sandals and a slinky black dress.

One step forward, and she closed the gap between them. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

“For showing me a great time tonight.”

“Better than the plane ride?”

She laughed. “Seriously, already better than the plane ride.”

“You are seriously welcome. Let’s go. I’m ready for my Chocolate Fantasy.”

D
INNER
was an absolute marvel. Multi-tiered fountains of thick, luxurious chocolate rested on tables filled with brightly colored fruits, pertly arranged crackers, and a bounty of vegetables. The fragrance of chocolate permeated the air as soon as they stepped into the ballroom, and Jeannine felt as if she had entered the inner sanctum of some secret chocolate-worshiping society.

“I didn’t know so many dishes could be made using chocolate,” Jeannine said as they moved along the buffet line catered by top chefs from the finest restaurants in New Mexico.

“I’m just glad there’s no chocolate in the salad,” Miklo said as he filled his plate.

Jeannine decided to try the chicken in chocolate sauce.

“There is chili powder and many unusual spices in it, so it’s a very unique combination,” the server said with a smile. “And you must try the chocolate mole for dessert.”

“I will, thank you.” Jeannine was glad the server offered some explanation of the food.

They found their assigned seats at a table with two other couples. “We’ve been here every year for the last ten years,” a woman named Alessandra said. “It’s always such an interesting combination of people.”

They chatted with the other couples until the speaker at the front diverted their attention.

Jeannine kept the shawl tied around her shoulders and her arms tucked beneath it whenever possible. Her confidence about her scars didn’t extend very far yet, and, rather than have the inquiring looks of strangers ruin her night, she kept the shawl close.

“And now I want to thank two very important people, very, very good friends of the museum.” The manager who had given them the tickets stood at the front of the room.

Jeannine and Miklo faced the front as the speaker drew the attention of the entire room. As Miklo’s hand drifted over her shoulder, a tremor ran through her. It was nothing she could explain, but she didn’t want it to go away. This night was something she would savor the rest of her life.

“Not long ago there was a medical emergency in the museum. Fortunately for all, present were Dr. Miklo Kyriakides and his nurse, Jeannine Carlyle. With their immediate intervention, they saved the life of one of our long-time members, Mr. Carl Chase.”

Applause rang through the banquet room as everyone looked around.

“Please won’t you stand so these nice folks can see who you are?” the manager asked, and held a hand out toward their table.

“Miklo, what do we do?” she whispered. Having so much attention on her wasn’t something she had anticipated and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.

He stood and pulled out her chair for her. “We accept graciously.” He raised a hand and acknowledged the attention of the crowd. As everyone continued to applaud, Jeannine blushed deeply, but raised a hand, too.

“The unselfish acts you performed that day saved the life of not only one person. On a personal level you have shown me that there are still good people in the world, people who will still make sacrifices in order to help others. So from everyone at the museum, the family of Mr. Chase, and myself, thank you.” He bowed to them and the crowd rose.

The orchestra waiting on the stage behind him struck up their first number.

With Miklo standing beside her, having the focus on them wasn’t so bad. Some of her discomfort eased and the fluttering of her heart slowed to a more normal pace. Jeannine smiled and waved. The shawl slipped from her shoulders to puddle at her feet. Several people nearby paused and stared wide-eyed at her arms and her neck, at the scars revealed by the dress.

Jeannine froze. A sick feeling of dread turned the chocolate sauce in her stomach to mud. Miklo bent over, retrieved her shawl and deliberately placed it over the back of her chair with a meaningful glance at the others. “This will only get in the way. May I have this
dance?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer took her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

Still uncomfortable with the revealing dress, she nodded and allowed Miklo to lead her to the dance floor. As she moved into his arms, the fears, the anxiety, the shame of her scars and imperfections melted away like the chocolate in the fountains. She was imperfect, she knew, but so was everyone else. Now, even in the midst of the crowd around them, there seemed to be only the two of them, with Miklo’s touch warm and comforting on the bared skin at her waist.

Each circle of the dance floor brought Miklo closer to Jeannine. Something was happening to him tonight. Something he hadn’t expected. But after taking her to Las Cruces, running across the border for the day, and now, holding her in his arms again, Miklo’s heart beat in his chest in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

Miklo, at last, felt like a man again.

Dancing had never been like this for Jeannine. Whatever the dance, Miklo knew it and guided her around the dance floor like he’d been born to it. This was what Cinderella must have felt like at the ball, so happy, so carefree, dreading the stroke of midnight when the fantasy would all end. Each moment, each breath, each beat of her heart led her closer to the trap of falling for Miklo, but she just couldn’t stop herself from walking into it.

After the first set of dancing ended, Miklo led her to the refreshment table, and she drank water to quench
her thirst. Watching Miklo drink a glass of water, too, she knew her thirst for him would never end. Every time she was near him, it only became stronger, and she was sure she would find herself addicted to him, without having her need for him fulfilled.

“So, how about it? Enjoying yourself?” he asked, and stroked a hand across her cheek.

Eyes downcast, she couldn’t believe he had touched her like that in such a public place in front of so many important people. As if he had actually meant it.

“Miklo, I’m having such a good time,” she said, and raised her gaze to his.

“But?”

“Oh, here they are,” a male voice said, interrupting their conversation. “Dr. Kyriakides? Miss Carlyle?”

They turned together to face a man in a wheelchair.

“Mr. Chase?” Miklo asked, and held out his hand. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

“You are so right,” he said, and laughed. “I wanted to thank you and your nurse for saving my life.” His voice cracked and a sheen of moisture appeared in his eyes. “I have a new lease on life, thanks to you two.” He reached for his wife’s hand and patted it. They shared an intimate look and any lingering doubts Jeannine harbored about coming tonight vanished. This was the real reason she was here, not the publicity, not the chocolate, and not even Miklo. Well, mostly not Miklo.

Jeannine hugged the man and his wife. Seeing him in such good health after his recent near-death experi
ence was just more proof that she was where she needed to be in her life, helping others, not worrying about her own needs and silly dreams that weren’t going to go anywhere. “We were just in the right place at the right time, Mr. Chase,” she said, and straightened. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”

“Nonsense. You’re an angel, my dear. An absolute angel,” Mr. Chase said, then looked at Miklo. “I would like to do something for both of you. Please, allow me to make a donation on your behalf somewhere.”

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Chase,” Miklo said.

“There must be some charity, someone who could use assistance that you’re aware of.” Mr. Chase’s earnest expression tugged at Jeannine.

“Miklo,” she said, and touched Miklo’s arm. “What about the clinic in Cruces? Surely Dr. Martinez wouldn’t refuse a charitable donation for the people there.”

Miklo gave a small smile to Jeannine. “You’re right.” He turned back to Mr. Chase, but kept Jeannine’s hand tucked into the crook of his arm. “If you’re willing to donate out of the immediate community, I know of a children’s clinic in desperate need of funds.”

“Absolutely,” Mr. Chase said, and withdrew a business card from his jacket. “Call me in a few days and give me the information. I have a few friends that could be enticed into offering their support as well.”

“Excellent,” Miklo said, and took the card, shook Mr. Chase’s hand and watched as he wheeled away. “That was a fabulous suggestion. I should have thought of it myself,” he said, and turned to face her.

“After our trip down there, it seemed a logical answer.” Jeannine tried to pull away from Miklo. He was too close, too strong, too male, and her senses were being overpowered by his presence.

Looking down at her mouth, Miklo said, “Thank you.” The kiss he pressed to her lips was as delicate and chaste as any she’d ever had. When he pulled away, the heat in his gaze was filled with blazing desire. “Let’s get out of here.”

As he drove her home, he remained silent. So many things had happened to him in the last few years. So many reasons for him to withdraw from his family, his friends, keeping work as the only source of his passion.

Now, having spent some more time with a woman so different from his wife, so different from the women in his social circle, his passion was changing. Jeannine sparked something within him that had changed him. Thanks to her, he was starting to let go of his past. As painful as it was, it finally seemed the right thing and the right time to do it. His brother had often said that he needed a new woman to forget the old one. But it hadn’t been as simple as that. Darlene had been part of his life for most of his life. Leaving her memory behind wasn’t easy.

Reaching out to Jeannine made him tremble. Fear and desire warred within him, and he didn’t know which one was going to win.

“Miklo?” Jeannine’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. When he turned, he realized they were parked in her driveway.

“Sorry. My mind took off on me.” He released his grip on the steering-wheel and dropped his hands into his lap.

“Are you okay?”

“Shall I walk you up?” he said.

“Sure.” She nodded, not looking at him as she got out of the car. As she approached him she looked up. Lord, he was such a magnificent man. Proud, protective, passionate. Everything she could ever want in a man, but what could she offer him in return? She was a physically and emotionally scarred woman with a remote chance of having children. What man would want that? She bit her lip as she entered her house and sensed him walk in behind her. The darkness allowed her the freedom to speak boldly. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, almost dreading his answer, already knowing what it would be.

“What? No,” he said, and kicked the sofa. “Ow. Can you turn on the light so I can see you?”

“Do you really want to see me?” she asked in a tremulous tone, surprising herself at the boldness of her question. If she were going to make a move to change her life, the time was now.

“More than you know.” His voice was a husky whisper, and she shivered as if he had touched her. Jeannine dropped her things onto the counter and turned a lamp up one notch.

“More.”

Up another notch.

“More. I want to see you,” he said, and moved closer to her.

Every protective instinct in her wanted her to run, but
her feet refused to move. Desire, hot in Miklo’s dark, dark eyes held her motionless.

“You have done nothing wrong. It’s me,” he said with a sigh.

More disappointed than she could ever have imagined, she dropped her gaze as tears gathered. “Despite the best of intentions, you’re still disgusted by my scars, right?” she asked.

Miklo continued moving forward until he had her backed against the wall. “Hardly. I’m less interested in your skin than how comfortable you are in it.” He stroked a hand down her bare arm. “Your skin is just a wrapping, it’s not what or who you are.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Her eyes searched his, and she cupped her hand against his cheek. Holding his gaze fast with hers, she willed him to reach out to her, to take her in his arms, to share himself with her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s…hard to explain, but…” He turned away and raked his hair back from his face. “Not long ago I’d have denied ever needing to feel passion again. For anyone. It was totally dead in me.” Turning back to her, he caught her arm in his and pressed his mouth to the scar on the inside of her wrist. “But now you have inspired the passion in me to return. And it’s a little…disturbing.”

“It’s only n-natural,” she stuttered. “Natural to feel that way about the first person you date after…losing someone.”

“Jeannine, I’ve dated a lot of women over the years.”
The intensity in his eyes robbed her of breath. “None of them ever inspired me the way you do.” He frowned and let out a sigh. “My wife and I were…comfortable with each other. Dedicated to our life together, to our families, and our friendship. What has flared between you and me is so different, so unexpected, that it has taken me by surprise.”

“Miklo.” Jeannine paused, searching his eyes, his face for some hint of rejection, but found nothing. The ache for him grew in her heart. She needed him right now. Gripping the lapels of his jacket in her fists, she drew him toward her. “Will you show me? The way it’s supposed to be?” She tipped her face up toward his. “Please,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He opened his mouth over hers, swallowing down her gasp of surprise. Hot, wet, tongue searching for hers, he kissed her hard and hungrily. A thrill of desire flashed through her, and she lost herself to his touch. The intensity of him overwhelmed her.

With her back against the wall and Miklo pressed hard against her, every inch of her conformed to his body. Wrapped in his arms, Jeannine had never felt more desired than she did at that moment. She wanted it all.

Miklo didn’t want to think, he just wanted to feel her silky skin against him. Keeping his lips pressed to hers, he shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it to the floor. He cupped her face in his hands, plundering her mouth with his. He’d never tasted anything as sweet as her mouth. And then he pulled back. “I want to look at
you.” He glanced down over the clingy black dress hugging every curve and nuance of her body. Her nipples pressed against the fabric and his mouth watered, wanting to taste every part of her. “Hold still.” He started to draw the thin straps of the dress off her shoulders when her startled gasp stopped him.