Page 16 of Dr. Aster

His eyes grew calculating, and I wished I could read the man’s mind.

“Are you catching feelings for me, Dr. Smith?” he questioned as he casually reclined against the doorframe of my office.

“What if I am?”

That would get him off my ass and calm down the office chatter.

He gave me a challenging grin, “Then you’d go out for a beer with me.”

“No,” I said, sitting at my desk and swiveling to open the file cabinets behind my desk. “I’d be too nervous.”

I heard him sigh and chuckle in the same breath, “If there’s one thing I’ve picked up about your personality, it’s that you do not get nervous.”

“When I’m face-to-face with the most handsome man I’ve ever known,” I said, standing and drinking in the gorgeous man with my eyes in a seductive yet playful way, “yeah, I’m a bit nervous to go out for drinks with him.”

His lips tightened and twisted up as he studied me, “You’re so damn charming when you give me that look. Perhaps, I’m the one that should be nervous?”

“I’m going home, big shot,” I said.

“Mick,” he said, shortening my nickname in a way I liked, especially coming from him. “Follow me to Steve’s. At least allow me to buy you dinner to thank you for taking my patients today.”

I stood there and contemplated how his expression changed for a flash of a second.

If this backfires on me, I’ll never forgive myself.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” I said, smiling. “But only because I’m starving. However, I took an Uber to work, so you’ll have to drive me there and home.”

I challenged him with a smile.

“Done deal, gorgeous. Let’s go on our first date,” he offered his arm, and I nudged him in the side.

“Don’t push it, Dr. Aster,” I teased.

“I would never think of it,” he replied.

Chapter Seven

John

I knew I’d get my way and finally get Mickie to agree to come out with me. She was stubborn, but she was a challenge and turned out to be a fun colleague to work with. Things took a definite turn for the better since her first day when she was uptight as fuck. And though she could be a little too serious at times, Mickie was a great woman, and I was grateful to have a few hours alone with her outside of work.

“You know, I never would’ve pinned you as a guy who would drive a chick car,” Mickie said, prompting me to practically spit my wine back into my glass.

“What the hell?” I answered in a lowered voice since I took her to a five-star restaurant to show her she had made the right decision by saying yes tonight. “That Ferrari is hardly a chick car. Chick magnet, yes. But a car that only chicks drive? No way.”

She grinned, her eyes drawn back to the menu. “Cherry red screams chick car,” she said, her eyes glancing up to mine, then back down again.

“Ferrari red is not cherry red,” I said. “And now that we’re done insulting my car, I’ll say that you won’t like anything on the right-hand side of that menu.”

“Oh?” she chuckled. “How would you know?”

“Something tells me you’re not the type that digs seafood or shellfish?”

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.” She folded her menu closed and crossed her arms over it, “I already know what I’m having.”

“A steak,” I guessed, pretty sure I was right.

Her eyebrows went up, highlighting the beauty of her green irises, “What makes you think so? There are plenty of delicious pastas on that menu.”

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