Page 177 of Toxic Temptation
This is ridiculous. I’m a pediatric surgeon. I’ve operated on premature babies whose hearts are smaller than golf balls. I’ve delivered life-or-death diagnoses to parents who looked at me like I held their entire world in my hands.
So why can’t I knock on a damn door?
I know the answer. It’s because this isn’t about medicine. If it was, this would be easy. This is about asking Kovan Krayev to be my date to the annual St. Raphael’s Fundraiser Gala, and I have never asked a man out in my entire life.
I’ve turned up solo the last seven years in a row. Just this once, I thought it might be nice to arrive with a handsome man onmy arm. If only to avoid the incessant whispers that follow me around like a cloud of mosquitos.
… There’s that poor Dr. Fairfax… alone again…
… Married to her career…
… Can’t keep a man for the life of her…
My hand hovers over the door. Falls back to my side. Rises again.
Just knock, you wimp. Lift your hand and rap on the damn door. It won’t bite. It won’t?—
Before I can lose my nerve completely, the door swings open.
Kovan fills the doorframe, all six-foot-four of him. His green eyes find mine, and one dark eyebrow arches in question.
“Vesper.”
My mouth goes dry. “Hi.”
“Were you planning to actually knock, or were you going to stand out here until I died of old age?”
Embarrassment reddens my cheeks. “How did you know I was?—”
“I could hear you pacing.” His lips twitch. “Also, Pavel texted me that you’ve been lurking in the hallway for ten minutes.”
“It hasn’t been…exactlyten minutes.” I want to disappear into the floor. “I had something to ask you.”
He steps back, holding the door wider. “Come in.”
“Actually, I’ll just ask from here. It’s not a big deal. If you’re busy or not interested, totally fine. I can manage on my own?—”
“Vesper.”
My rambling stops.
“What’s the question?”
I take a huge inhale, then start an internal countdown.Rip the Band-Aid in three, two, one,:“Willyougooutwithmetothehospitalgalatonight?”
The words tumble out in a single, breathless rush without a single pause between them. It’s nothing like the carefully rehearsed speech I practiced in front of my bathroom mirror. Not nearly as Cool Girl as I was hoping for.
Kovan blinks. Blinks again. Then: “What?”
I’m torn between a laugh and a sob, so I do a little bit of both. Then I try again, forcing myself to actually pause between each word. But because I’m horrifically nervous, the pauses are too long and the question is just as awkward as the first time around, albeit in a different way.
“Will. You. Go. Out. With. Me. Tonight?”
I sound like a robot. A robot who has never before seen or interacted with a person of the opposite sex.
Or a cyborg of the opposite sex, or whatever. I don’t know. My brain is mashed potatoes.
He goes very still. “You want me to go out with you.”
