Page 16 of Dr. Do-Right
His phone buzzed on the table between us. I looked at it before he did. He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes off my face. I blanched at the notification on the screen.
“Your flight leaves in forty-five minutes? Mal, you’re not going to make it.” We were miles away from the airport and he was sitting here like he had all the time in the world to rev my engine with some hungry looks and a few strokes of my leg.
“I’ll make it. Give me ten minutes in a bathroom stall and I’ll still make it.” His hand rose higher, thumb brushing the hem of my skirt.
“Mal,” I gasped, arching in my chair. We were in public, for fuck’s sake, but I couldn’t control my body’s reaction to him.
“Five. No, three. I can make it good for you in three, Kitten.” He purred. The heat he stirred up wound through my veins as his phone sounded once more.
I looked again. Two messages from his publicist slash executive assistant, Adam.
I know you’re not on your way to the airport.
If you don’t leave now, the Malvern situation is only going to get worse.
“What’s the Malvern situation?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. As much as I would love three minutes in a bathroom stall with him, he had a flight to catch.
Mal jerked like I’d tossed the pitcher of icy sangria over his head. His hand fell from my leg. “Fuck. Sorry. Fuck, I have to go.”
His face looked wary. He leaned over to cup my cheek in his palm. “I promise you, if it were any other issue than this one specific thing, I would already have you up against the bathroom wall right now. Do you believe me?”
“Y-yes.”
His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “I want to kiss you.”
“You can now.” The thought made my heart leap in my chest. What would it feel like? To have his lips on mine? To grab him whenever I wanted?
He swallowed, focused on my lips. I leaned forward an inch. He was so close to me. Just a little further…
“Not here. If I kiss you now, I’m never getting on that plane. And I want you all to myself the first time.”
He leaned in anyway, turning at the last second to brush a kiss across my cheek. My jaw. His teeth nipped. I sighed, breath uneven.
He cursed, then he was gone, standing and wrapping Siggy’s leash around his wrist.
“I’ll call you when I land. I’m so sorry, Kitten…” His teeth clicked when he bit them together. After one last look at me, he turned. The puppy trilled and whined while Mal stomped away down the sidewalk.
Chapter 6
“Miss—”
“No, really, it’s fine!” I waved a jittery hand at my driver and slid out of the matte black Range Rover. The door slammed shut, blocking out the slick, low-lit interior and the smell of new leather.
“I’d have stayed in the car,” Sonia chimed unhelpfully in my ear.
“Of course you would have stayed in the car. The driver was hot,” I muttered, navigating the sidewalk leading to the Lincoln Zoo. Most times, I’d have stayed in the car, too. Mal had gone all out with whatever car service he’d hired to pick me up.
The new model SUV was pristine. The driver had been polite and obviously very experienced navigating Chicago traffic, getting me across town to the zoo in no time. He’d even worn an earpiece. I wasn’t sure what sort of emergency driver situations would warrant an earpiece, or know who would be on the other side of the line, but it was official as hell. While I appreciated the obviously high caliber of the services being rendered, I’d been too antsy all day—all week, really—to sit still for any longer.
My gold heels clicked on the concrete as I strode past the long line of Beemers and Escalades jockeying to drop guests off at the entrance. Around me, other gala attendants stood out with their tuxes and silk gowns, lining up to get into the event venue. Apparently, this year’s gala benefitting the Children’s Hospital was going to be lit.
“Wait, you didn’t say he was hot. Why didn’t you tell me he was hot? How hot?”
“Umm,” I tried to remember the guy’s face. I had registered that he’d been attractive, with lots of muscles underneath that black button down, but truth be told, I hadn’t been able to focus on anything but the thought of seeing Malachi.
I hadn’t been able to switch shifts, so I’d been stuck in the OR all day. I’d emerged, feet sore and body sweaty, to a barrage of texts from him. One when his plane touched down in Chicago. Later, a photo of his brand new apartment key in his hand. Then, a photo of a king-sized bed, perfectly made up, surrounded by cardboard boxes. He had not bothered to add a caption to the picture. I’d still gotten the point.
Now, not only was he here, in my city, but he was here, like, just a few yards away. I shuffled up to a line snaking around the sidewalk, joining the other gala guests waiting to get inside.
