Authors: Sophia Knightly
“What are you doing here?” Alex finishes the
pastelito
in two bites.
“Java break,” I grit out through tight lips.
“Me too. I’m glad I caught you here before we have the interview.” Alex takes some swigs of the creamy
café con leche
and then wipes the froth from his upper lip with the paper napkin. He pulls a fiver out of his pocket and places it on the counter and then grabs my
cortadito
in one hand and my arm in the other.
“We need to chat about last night,” he says, pearly whites flashing.
“Yes.” I take the small white cup of strong, sweet espresso from him and pull a long swig. “We do.”
Alex and I sit at a tiny round Formica table and there are so many negative thoughts swirling in my mind, I’m at a loss where to begin.
“I apologize for the way I left last night.” He shakes his head and his eyes darken with jealousy. “I don’t like that Harrison guy, and I resent the way he barged in on us.”
“I already told you that Harrison is a friend.”
“He doesn’t act like one. By now you must realize I have a bit of a short temper and I’m possessive.”
No, really?
That’s putting it mildly, but I remain silent, wondering what he’ll say next. I don’t want to say that it’s okay for him to be that way, because it isn’t. I don’t like possessive, controlling types.
“I hope you’ll forgive me,
linda
,” he cajoles, his dark eyes turning soft as velvet. “I’ll even sweeten my apology by donating my speaking fee to your event.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean donate?” I ask, perplexed.
“I always charge a fee for speaking engagements.”
My eyes widen. “You do? Even for charity?” How is that heroic? I suddenly see him with different eyes.
“How do you think I support my mom and my sisters in the style they’re accustomed to? With the rising cost of medical malpractice insurance and employing a full staff, I have to charge for my services,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I guess…” I say, stunned all the same. I am beyond disappointed. All this time I thought he was donating his time.
“Don’t look like that,” he chides with a smile. “I do my fair share of charity work at Miami Children’s Hospital and Camillus House.”
“Oh.” Camillus House is a Catholic shelter located in downtown Miami that provides decent food and a clean, temporary residence for the homeless. I recall all the recognition plaques in his office for other charity work. Maybe he isn’t
that
selfish, but I’m not thrilled at seeing him in this light.
“Your dinner last night was spectacular,” he says, changing the subject. “I’d love to see you again. You’re not only beautiful, but you’re an amazing cook…and wonderful company. Can we put everything behind us and start over?”
His sincere tone catches me by surprise. Just when I was beginning to dislike him, he manages to soothe my shock. Okay, remember he’s human—everyone has occasional missteps. Mom would say nobody’s perfect. And he looks appealing in his scrubs, which reminds me he is a brilliant, life-saving doctor.
“Well… I guess we can try,” I say, feeling magnanimous.
“Good, then no more Harrison and his interruptions.”
Hold on now. I never agreed to that, but I guess it’s natural for him to want Harrison out of the picture.
Alex rises from the table. He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.
I remain silent, but once we get the interview over with, I will tell Alex I don’t allow anyone to dictate who I associate with. I am not a pushover.
As expected, Alex wows everyone in the studio during our interview. He eloquently discusses the benefits of adding omega three fatty fish oil to our diets, especially for women at risk of heart disease. I remind the audience that Dr. Escobar is a leading epidemiologist who writes outstanding articles and books about the direct correlation between what you eat and your heart’s health.
His delivery is articulate and convincing, but I can’t get the vision of him wolfing down the
pastelitos
out of my head. It’s blasphemy against everything he stands for.
Mom’s words linger in my mind about taking him off the pedestal and seeing him as a mere mortal with a few flaws. I remember how Alex choked on the guava pastry when he first saw me, but then recovered right away. He even laughed at my snarky comment about the guava jelly and the effects on his belly.
No matter. He is brilliant and he looks great on screen in his green scrubs. Alex’s powerful physique is at ease as he sits on a leather stool answering in-depth questions that I emailed him in advance.
Later, he and I have convened to Antoinette’s office where we just finished watching the taped interview before the edits.
“You look amazing on camera, Dr. Escobar,” Antoinette says, smoothing her tangerine-colored tulip shaped skirt over round, perfectly tanned and waxed knees.
He flashes a stunning smile. “Call me Alex.”
“Alex,” she says with a flirtatious smile. “Have you ever considered being a TV medical correspondent? You are exceptionally charismatic and telegenic.”
Alex’s chest puffs up and his black eyes glow with pride. “I’m flattered you would mention it, and yes, I’ve had one or two people say so. But I am a very busy physician,” he says, emphasizing “very”.
“How would you like to take over the medical correspondent position for Francesca here?”
I gasp and stare at her.
Antoinette ignores my reaction. “We would compensate you rather nicely,” she adds, sweetening the pot.
“Oh?” He looks
very
interested.
Nooo! Did I hear her correctly? Did Antoinette just ask Alex to take over Elise’s job? I sure hope not!
Romeo: Oh bother, Francesca is confused about men—again. So what else is new? I’m glad I’m not confused. I’m in love—or lust—with Coquette. Whatever, it’s the same to me.
I lived up to my name and put the moves on Coquette today. Now I’m basking in Fizzyland with her. After a stroll around the block this morning and a massage from Fizzy, we plopped on the bed when Fizzy left to run errands.
Coquette and I ran a few personal errands of our own…rowrrr!
Chapter Fifteen
I am flabbergasted. I cannot believe Antoinette asked Alex to take over for me, just like that. And what about Elise, who’s in the throes of post-partum depression and expecting to have a job to come back to? She’s a single mother. Who will support Josh and Jake?
This is
terrible
.
Seeing my shocked reaction, Alex shoots me a concerned look. “I wouldn’t want to take away Francesca’s job. She does it so well.” His words are kind, but his tone isn’t sincere—at all.
He’s eating up Antoinette’s accolades and it’s obvious he’s capable of wolfing down Elise’s job like he did those
pastelitos
earlier. The worst part is he thinks I’m worried about salvaging my job, when it’s Elise I’m looking out for.
Antoinette waves a dismissive hand and pats her thick bangs in place above thin, penciled-in eyebrows. With her platinum blonde hair and vibrant orange-colored outfit, Antoinette looks like a giant Creamsicle today. I hope she melts into a puddle.
She doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Don’t worry about Francesca. She’s juggling two jobs. Your contribution would be while Elise, our medical reporter, is on maternity leave,” Antoinette explains.
What a relief!
Now that I know Elise isn’t in danger of being replaced by Alex permanently, I feel better. Still, it rankles that Antoinette would ask him without consulting me first.
“I have access to the latest in medicine through the University of Miami. One of my colleagues is doing breakthrough research on mining immature adult stem cells to repair damaged hearts,” Alex says.
“Sounds fascinating,” Antoinette coos, attention riveted on Alex.
“As you know, embryonic stem cell research has been an ethical question for physicians. This is a huge breakthrough,” he says in an authoritative voice.
“Why is that?” Antoinette leans in to listen intently.
“Because embryos are not destroyed. I could bring him in for an interview,” Alex offers.
“Yes, let’s do it!” Antoinette squeals, tossing her long hair over the ruffled neckline of her blouse.
Hello?
Has everyone forgotten I’m sitting here? Antoinette and Alex are engaged in an animated discussion, displacing me without a blink of an eye.
I clear my throat for their attention. “Actually, I
am
going to be busy next month with the Food and Wine Festival,” I say, to reestablish myself in the conversation. “If you ask me…”
Cleary annoyed, Antoinette gives me a sharp look. “What did you say?”
“I was talking about the Food and Wine Festival. It has mushroomed and is extremely popular with the locals and tourists who fly in just for the event.” Antoinette taps her pen in rapid-fire rhythm on her desk, a sure sign that she’s ready to throw me out for interrupting. “There are many celebrity chefs arriving for me to interview,” I say in a rush.
“Sounds like it’s a boost to the economy here,” Alex says.
Antoinette gives me an icy glare. “We are discussing important health issues. Issues that will change life as we know it and you want to talk about food and wine?”
She turns her attention back to Alex as I slump in my chair. If I didn’t need this job so desperately, I’d be tempted to walk out.
Antoinette beams at Alex. “I would be very pleased if you consider taking the job, Alex. Your books on epidemiology will garner lots of attention from being on WBCG. It’s not often one finds a doctor with such natural talent for the camera.”
“I’ll be happy to consider a serious offer,” Alex says with a broad smile.
“Great. We’ll have an offer on the table for you by the end of the day,” Antoinette promises.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Alex replies, giving me a wink.
I force a smile, even though I’d rather kick him at the moment. But no sense in antagonizing the host of my Bowled Over event.
Just as I rise to leave Antoinette’s office with Alex, she says, “Francesca, please come back to my office later. I need to talk to you.”
What does that mean?
“Sure, see you in a minute,” I say, acting calm even though I’m not.
When we reach the exit, Alex puts his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him. I can’t help stiffening in his embrace.
“Join me this weekend at my condo in Ocean Reef,” he says smoothly.
“You have a place in the Keys too?” What is he, Donald Trump? Come to think of it, my bill from American Express came in the mail yesterday. When is he going to pay me back for that dinner?
“It’s my private getaway. We can pick up where we left off,” he murmurs, giving my waist a squeeze.
“I can’t. I have to work,” I blurt out. Whew, I just dodged that bullet. In sticky situations, the work excuse always comes in handy. But the truth is I really do have to work. “I’m covering the Doral celebrity golf tournament all weekend.”
“Too bad.”
“Yes, too bad,” I repeat, not meaning it.
Before I know what’s happening, he pulls me in close for a kiss, not caring that we’re standing just outside the station’s glass walls. I don’t like that any of the staff can see us if they walk by.
Alex’s hands slide down from my waist to cup my bottom, lifting me off the floor while he molds his mouth over mine. I try to object, but his lips don’t give me a chance, his tongue is so busy shoving into my open mouth. Ew! How the heck did I end up dangling in mid-air, with my breasts pressed against his chest, suspended by Alex’s hands in front of my office? I push hard, trying to dislodge myself from his hold, but his arms are rock solid. His greedy style of kissing infuriates me and I’m livid enough to want to smack his face.
Abruptly he lets go, leaving me with smashed lips and the imprint of his erection on my stomach. From the satisfied feral gleam in his eyes, Alex must think I’m equally turned on by his sneak attack.
Blech.
Gross
—I’m totally turned off by it.
“I’ll be in touch when I get back.
Ciao, linda
,” he says with a parting pat on my bottom that’s probably bruised from his heavy-handed groping.
“Good-bye,” I croak, my mouth numb from his rough kiss. I’ll bet he’s the slam, bam, thank you, ma’am type. At this point, who cares? He ain’t gettin’ any action from me. He might look good on paper and handsome in his green scrubs, but at the moment I can’t stand Dr. Alex Escobar!
I’m back in Antoinette’s office with a fake smile plastered on my face as I have to listen to her rave about Alex. Just when I think she’ll go on forever, she changes the subject.
“Before Elise went into labor, she was investigating a case of medical insurance fraud,” she says, her beady eyes penetrating mine like lasers.
“Really?” I wonder at her sudden change of mood.
She lowers her voice a notch. “It’s something big.”
“Oh?” I hope she isn’t going to ask Alex to take over what Elise has been working on.
“I want you to look into it. This is top secret, sensitive material that can’t be seen by anyone in the medical profession.” She pauses for a weighted moment as if waiting for the words to sink in and then gives me a pointed look. “You get me?”