Trapped (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Throughout Mike’s busy day, he smiled continuously, enjoying his fantasy of dinner that night with Lisa.

“You’re smiling too much,” Brad said. “I think I know why.”

“You’re right. I’m taking Lisa Cooke to dinner.”

“I’m glad you two made up. The nurses were on my case to bring you two back to sanity. They didn’t take sides
, but thought that both of you were acting like jerks.”

“Those nurses remind me of my sisters—I think they’re great.”

Mike raced home after work. He put his beeper aside
. Nothing would interfere with his date tonight. Mike showered and shaved with particular care, stroking his face to insure the baby-soft skin that women loved. He brushed his teeth and pocketed a supply of
Certs.

He checked himself in the mirror, and then brushed back his receding hairline. He clipped his nails, and put on clean underwear.
Dressed in a blue blazer, tan slacks, and tasseled loafers, he was ready to leave.

While driving to Lisa’s apartment, he barely noticed the clear
, star-studded night. Mike was still smiling when he rang her doorbell.

An attractive, petite, dark-haired woman opened the door. “Well, it’s about time, Mike, and it’s great to meet you. I’m Phoebe.” She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek
, then pulled him inside and directed him to the sofa. “Lisa will be ready in a minute. She’s only been at it for two and a half hours.”

“Lisa’s talked about you, Phoebe. She said I’d better be careful what I ask, since she said ‘you never know what will come out of Phoebe’s mouth.’”

“So you prefer dishonesty, Mike?”

“Not me, Phoebe. In my politically correct world, candor is an endangered species.”

“Listen, Mike,” she said, sidling up to him, “Don’t be a putz tonight.”

He laughed, “First, it’s putz. Then it’ll be schmuck, and then
—what’s that Yiddish word you New Yorkers like?”

“Mench.”

“Right. That literally means a human being, doesn’t it?”

“According to my roommate, it means that you’re a good guy
, and a decent human being.”

“Lisa talks the same way about you, but she used another term
, as well—what was it?” He hesitated. “Oh, yes, it was ‘Pit Bull’, I think.”

Phoebe smiled at Mike as Lisa entered the room.

Among the many things that Mike liked about women, one stood out; he loved their ability to transform their appearance. Lisa, at work, had a wholesome, girl-next-door look, but tonight…

“You’re staring,” Phoebe said. “Haven’t you seen a woman dressed for dinner
? And who knows what else—?”

“Easy, Phoebe,” Lisa said, “you’ll scare him away.”

“I don’t think so.”

Lisa wore a waist-hugging
little-black-dress with tiny spaghetti straps, and high-heeled strappy sandals with bright red toenails shining through. Her graceful neck set off a delicate gold chain with a small diamond pendant. Her ears had matching drop earrings.

“You look fantastic,” he blurted.

“You don’t look so bad, yourself,” she said, smiling.

Mike gave Lisa a hug and a kiss on the cheek, being careful
to not disturb her carefully applied makeup.

As they stared at each other, Phoebe said, “Don’t stand there all night. Get going
.”

Lisa grabbed her black silk beaded sweater
, and Mike held it while she put it on.

“You guys have a great time tonight,” Phoebe said. “I won’t wait up for you, and if one or both of you gets lucky, maybe you won’t come home
, at all.”

Lisa blushed, kissed Phoebe on the cheek, and said, “Don’t pay attention to her, Mike; she didn’t take her meds today.”

They held hands as they walked to Mike’s Honda S2000 sports car. He’d stopped on the way home, and had it washed.

“I love your car,” Lisa said, as he opened the door for her. “I didn’t take you for
the sports car type.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s an indulgence, and it drives like a dream
—and the girls…”

“Right, Mike
, like you really need the car for the girls. Will you let me drive it sometime?”

“Are you a good driver?”

“The police in Grass Valley ranked me number one in difficulty of pursuit. I’ll show you my collection of speeding tickets.”

“And what are you driving?”

“A ‘92 Jeep Wagoneer, but don’t let that fool you.”

When they arrived at Antonino’s in Berkeley, Mike pulled into the valet parking. When the driver whistled as he held the door for Lisa, she said, “It’s for the car, Mike.”

“I don’t think so.”

Mike held her hand as they approached the
hostess. The slow overhead fans created a moving canopy of aromas; the pesto, the wood-fired pizza oven, basil, parmigiana, and an overlay of garlic. “We have a reservation under Dr. Cooper.”

“Of course, Dr. Cooper. It’s great to see you
, again. Stan Harrington saw your name on the list, and asked that I seat you at his special guest table, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

After she seated them in the intimate booth, Lisa asked, “I guess you know Stan Harrington.”

“I took care of Elizabeth, his daughter. She entered the world at thirty-two weeks
, and was in trouble for a while. After more than a few scary moments, she pulled through.”

A huge man,
six foot six, or more, and weighing over three-hundred pounds, approached the table wearing a bright white apron.

“It’s wonderful to see you
, again,” he shouted, hugging Mike in his huge arms.

“It’s good to see you too, Stan. How’s Lizzy?”

“She’s growing so quickly. It’s like she’s making up for lost time.”

“That’s partly true, but
, Stan,” Mike said, patting Stan’s abdomen, “don’t let her overdo it.”

He laughed
, and said, “No fat, Mike, she’s just growing.”

Mike nodded toward Lisa. “This is Lisa Cooke; she’s a nurse in NICU.”

Stan extended his enormous hand, and grasped hers gently. “Great to meet you, Lisa. I love those NICU nurses, they’re fantastic, and I love this guy, he said, pointing at Mike. “He saved Lizzy’s life. More than that, he was with us through the whole miserable thing. We owe him our daughter, and our sanity.”

Mike blushed. “He exaggerates.”

“I doubt that,” Lisa said.

Stan went over the specials. She chose the salmon. When Mike picked the
Oso Bucco, Lisa paled. He quickly changed his order to lasagna.

“I’d like a glass of Merlot,” Lisa said.

“Merlot, I hate Merlot. I think we can do better,” Mike said, looking up at Stan.

“I’m hiding
a Montellori Chianti for you tonight, if you’d like it.”

“Bring it on,” Mike replied.

After Stan left, Mike turned to Lisa. “No veal, right?”

“I’m not one of those animal rights kooks, but I can’t stand the way they raise veal.
Calves confined, immobilized, and fed a diet that makes them anemic. It’s not for me.”

“I’ll bet nobody’s paraphrased Otto Von
Bismark to you on a date, Lisa, but making laws, like stuffing sausage, and readying meat for consumption, should never be seen. The only solution is to not think about it.”

“I understand, but I draw my line on veal.”

“I’ve drawn my line on cilantro and bananas.”

“And you think I’m strange.”

“‘Strange’ is not the word I’d choose for you.”

She shifted her body next to him. “What word would you choose?”

“I don’t think in labels, Lisa. I only know how I feel.”

She smiled and squeezed his hands across the table.

Mike blushed, “It’s not easy to find words that express how I feel.”

“Give it a try.”

“When I look at you, I’m suddenly warm all over. I feel like smiling—and then I want to crush you in my arms, and make passionate love to you.”

Lisa reddened, but before she could reply, Stan returned with the Chianti. “You’ll love this,” he said as he uncorked the bottle.

Stan moved to pour a sample into Mike’s wine glass, when Mike said, “Let Lisa try it.”

Lisa sipped the wine. “This is wonderful.”

Stan filled their glasses. “I’ll be back in a moment with your salads.”

Lisa had the words on her tongue, but
, after the interruption, they were gone. She stared into his eyes, grasped his hands again, then said, “I love you, Mike. You’re everything I ever wanted, but was sure I’d never have. I haven’t done so well with men…”

“Don’t,” Mike said
. None of that means a damn thing to me. It’s you, Lisa. Only you.”

Mike couldn’t remember the rest of the dinner. He hugged Stan. Stan hugged Lisa, and they left for his apartment.

Lisa leaned as close as she could, despite Mike’s bucket seats.

They clutched each other when they reached his front door,
and started to tear at each other’s clothes. “Hang on a second,” he said, catching his breath, “before they arrest us.”

As he inserted his key into the lock, Mike’s cell phone played Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1.

Shit,
he thought.

When he heard the answering service, he fumed. “I’m not on call tonight. Call Dr. Dillard.”

“I understand, Doctor, but Mrs. Dillard told me to call you, and say that Dr. Dillard is on his way to Brier Emergency. He’s passing a kidney stone. She said you must get to Brier NICU to cover, ASAP.”

Mike turned to Lisa. “You’re not going to believe this, but my partner’s passing a
kidney stone. I’ve got to go in for him.” He held her hands, and looked into her eyes. “I feel terrible.”

She smiled,
and then said, “Not as bad as I feel, sweetie.” She straightened her dress, and brushed her hair back with her hands.

“I’ll drop you off. It’s on my way to Brier. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay after a cool shower,” she said. “As for making it up to me, count on it.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Do you want me to wait up for you, Mike? I will, you know.”

“I know, but we’ve got a bunch of sick babies. I’ll be at Brier all night. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget that I love you.”

She gave him a final hug, and then whispered in his ear, “I love you, too.”

Chapter Sixteen

Lisa returned to the apartment at eleven to find Phoebe sprawled on the couch in her bra and panties, watching television.

“Oh, Lisa,” she said walking toward the door, “where’s Mike?”

“You’d love to have him see you that way, wouldn’t you?”

“A girl’s got to get her thrills
, somehow.”

Lisa removed her sweater
, and sat on the sofa.

“You guys didn’t fight again, did you?” Phoebe asked. “At least get laid first, if you’re going to fight.”

“Oh, Phoebe, what must it be like to live in your head? No, we didn’t have a fight, we had a great evening, but Mike’s partner, the one on call, decided to screw up our evening by passing a kidney stone.”

“Oh,” Phoebe said, “the old passing
-a-kidney-stone excuse. That’s pretty damn inconsiderate, if you ask me.”

“We thought so
, too, but Mike has a bunch of sick preemies in NICU. He had to go to work.”

“I think someone
, or something, is conspiring against you two.”

“I’m ready. I’m sure he’s more than ready. It’s the fates that aren’t ready.”

Mike worked all night. Besides a group of sick preemies, he had to attend
two deliveries. One required a prolonged resuscitation of a thirty-week newborn.

When Lisa arrived for work, she found Mike slumped over the conference table in the nurse’s lounge, fast asleep. She sat by his side,
and ran her hand over his shoulders and through the dark curls over his neck.

“Wha…” he said, startled, and then looked around.
“Is that you, Sharon?”

“Right,” Lisa said, pushing his head back down. “Very funny.”

“Just kidding.”

“It’s okay, honey. I can’t resist those curls,” she said
, kissing him on the neck.

Mike shook his head, and then ran his fingers over his face. He breathed into his cupped hands
, and said, “My breath must be horrible. Let me brush my teeth.”

“You breath’s perfect,” she said. “You’re perfect.”

He stood and embraced her. “I’m beat,” he said. “As soon as Brad gets here, I’ve got to get some sleep. I must be getting old. These all-nighters are getting tough on me.”

Suddenly the door burst open. Brad Rosin entered. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Lisa. He just wants your attention.”

“He already has that, Brad.”

“How was your date last night?” Brad asked.

“Interrupted,” Mike said. “Why the hell didn’t they find you last night?”

Brad smiled. “You know Rita and date night. Last night, the CIA couldn’t have found us.”

“It worked,” Lisa said. “For our next date, we’re leaving town.”

Mike stood, stretched
, and said, “I’ve got to see two patients in the office, and then I need a few hours of sleep.”

Lisa turned to Mike. “If you’re up to it, let me cook you dinner
, tonight.”

“I’ll be rested and rarin’ to go. I’ll go to the market. What do you need?”

“I’ll do the shopping, Mike. You do have some cooking equipment, don’t you?”

“Virginal pots, pans, and a variety of things that defy my understanding, but
they come under the heading of cooking supplies.”

“See you guys later,” Brad said as he departed.

Lisa wrapped her arms around Mike, and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’ll be over at six.”

Mike fell into his bed, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He
awoke at one in the afternoon, showered and shaved, and went to his office. When he returned home at five-thirty, he spent ten minutes picking up clothes, books, and magazines that he’d managed to scatter on the floor in the family room and his den. He hadn’t done much to decorate. He’d made resolutions time and again to do something about his apartment, but his resolve only lasted about ten minutes.

As he stared at the mismatched furnishings, he thought
, I need an interior decorator. Better yet, I should call Goodwill to take it all away.

When Lisa arrived bearing three bags full of groceries, she plopped them on the kitchen counter,
and then turned and looked over his space. She smiled at his meager attempts to clean up, and then noted the worn leather sofa, the full bookshelves, and the large screen projection television.

She wore form-fitting DKNY jeans
, and a scoop-neck burgundy velvet top. A delicate heart-shaped locket hung from a fine gold chain.

They embraced
, and Mike kissed her softly on her neck. He felt her shudder.

Breaking free, she said, “I see you cleaned up for me. I’m impressed.”

“I have many talents, but I’m not much on domesticity.” He scanned his space. “I need to do something about this place.”

Her mind has discarded most of his furniture, painted the walls, and redecorated
, he thought.

She extracted a bottle of Kendal
l Jackson Chardonnay from one of the bags, and handed it to Mike. “Why don’t you open this so we can sip as we work.”

“We?”

“You don’t think I’m doing this alone, do you? This will be a joint effort.”

Mike pulled the cork
, and poured the wine.

Lisa laid out the vegetables beside Mike’s cutting board. “Is it safe to hand you a knife?”

“Just don’t stand too close to me. I’ve got lots of bandages in the medicine cabinet, if we need them.”

As he worked away
at slicing and dicing, Lisa prepared the Marinara sauce, the pasta, and the fresh clams.

“You’re going to love this,” she said, “it’s my specialty, but we must share it
, or else.”

“Or else?”
He asked as he watched her extract a sourdough baguette, slice it, and then cover the slices with a thick slurry of garlic and butter.

“I thought you were a health nut,” he said. “That will go right to our coronary arteries.”

“Once you taste it, you won’t care.”

“I think I see a theme in you
r selection of food, tonight.”

“A theme?”
She said, smiling innocently.

“You
know, the basil, the arugula, the garlic, and the piece de resistance, the chocolate decadence. A conspiracy of aphrodisiacs.”

She put her arms around his waist, looked up into his eyes, and smiled. “My, you have a fertile imagination, Doctor, but I’m willing to wager that you won’t need any aphrodisiacs tonight.”

Mike covered his small dinette table with his only linen table cloth, and they sat side-by-side eating, sipping their wine, and talking as if they’d been friends for years.

Afterward, Mike helped Lisa clear the table, and
, as he stood before the sink rinsing off the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, she embraced him from behind.

He felt her warm hands slip under his knit shirt, and
, as they began their ascension, he became erect. When her hands reached his breasts, he gasped, felt flushed and dizzy, but remained still, enjoying each erotic second.

He turned to face her
, and they embraced. His wet hands left water marks on her velvet top. “I’m so sorry. I messed up your top.”

“Feel free to mess up the rest of me,” she said
, pulling him closer.

They refused to release each other for even a moment
, and managed to work their way into the bedroom. Lisa sat Mike on the bed, and stood before him as he lifted her top, removed her bra and sucked on her breasts. She gasped in delight. Soon, they were in bed, intertwined with an urgency of foreordained lovers held apart far too long.

They
made love with careful caution at first, trying to read each other’s mind and to divine each other’s points of arousal, but soon they were lost in the ecstasy of their love. They made love twice more, each time casting off another layer of the defenses that kept their souls apart.

“I can’t get close enough to you,” he
said as they lay exhausted.

“I think you got pretty close.”

“I mean that I have this unremitting urge to crawl into you, to become part of you.”

She tightened her embrace. “Even now, you are a part of me, and I’ll never let you get away.”