Read Paging Dr. Hot Online

Authors: Sophia Knightly

Paging Dr. Hot (26 page)

“Yes, I’m an idiot for second-guessing you before. I won’t do it again,” I say remorsefully. “With those nice green eyes, you were born to wear matching scrubs. Are you satisfied?”

“Not completely, but that’ll do for now,” he teases.

“Good.”

“Hungry? I bet you haven’t eaten anything.”

“You’re right, I haven’t. No appetite today.”

“How about a little soup? I can heat up some chicken broth. That’s about all I can cook.” He says all this with a self-deprecating smile that is killing me. He is so cute.

“Now you’re really spoiling me.” Gawd, he is so
hot—
green scrubs and all. My heart races as I peer into his beautiful eyes. Sick and weak as I am, the only thing I’m hungry for at the moment is Harrison. I have no idea if he feels the same. I can’t forget about how cozy he and Fizzy have gotten on the sidelines…

“Be back in a few minutes,” he says. “Come on, Romeo, time for food.”

Romeo jumps off the bed and cheerfully trots after Harrison.

Romeo: Why can’t Harrison move in with us? Francesca, don’t you realize he is the best doctor? We would make such a happy family.

Come on, lady, get better already and reel him in before he gets away!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Four days later, I’m feeling better. I’m still covered in pox, but they’re drying up and scabbing over, so that’s good. And no more fever. That’s even better.

I’m sitting on my bed with my laptop, and I just logged on, hoping for an email from Mom. When I called Aunt Peggy a few days ago, she told me she’d never had chicken pox, yet she insisted on coming over to take care of me. I wouldn’t hear of it, but that didn’t stop her from leaving a care package of homemade chicken soup and a batch of brownies at my door. What a sweetie! She’s called me day and night to check on my progress.

Only problem is, she wasn’t sure whether Mom has had chicken pox. It’s been four days since I’ve written and still no word from Mom. What if she and Dad are sick with no one to care for them? My research said chicken pox could be fatal if there are complications—especially in adults.

I’m wondering what time it is in the Seychelles Islands as I scroll down my emails and find one from Mom. I eagerly open it and read:

 

Frankie, dear, don’t fret about Dad and me. We’ve both had chicken pox. Take good care of yourself and accept all the support you can from friends and neighbors. I heard from Aunt Peggy that she left soup and brownies for you because you wouldn’t let her in. I wish I were there to take care of you. Sending you lots of hugs and kisses from me and Dad (who is happy as a clam doing his research).

Love, Mom

 

I type back:

 

Hi, Mom, don’t worry about me. My neighbor, Harrison, is taking good care of me—you’d think he was my personal doctor. Harrison is Chloe’s cousin and Romeo’s vet. (The one I told you about.) Anyway, I’m in his capable hands, so have a good time and don’t worry about me. Oh, another thing…Dr. Alex Escobar is gone from my life. He turned out to be an arrogant creep.

Love, Frankie

P.S. I wasn’t kidding about Harrison’s capable hands. :)

 

I’m waiting for Harrison to get back from his walk with my pup, who has never been happier with all the attention. Romeo practically does somersaults and jiggles every inch of his body when he knows he’s going for a walk with Harrison and Scout.

And me? I’m head-over-heels for Harrison. The past few days he helped me with Aveeno baths (blush) and checked in on me around the clock, bringing meals and reinforcements. He must have listened to my lungs a dozen times at my insistence because I was worried about getting pneumonia—even though I never developed a cough. Being tended to by Harrison was more than healing—it was delicious and now all I can think about is reclaiming his interest, not as a patient, but as a woman.

He understood my fears and was never impatient or patronizing.

I’ve been having sensual dreams about him too. What a welcome change from the nightmares I used to have about Devon and Alex. The only thing that gives me pause is that Harrison hasn’t made one romantic move toward me. I can’t really blame him with the way I look at the moment, but still.

Chloe was right about Harrison all along and I should have listened to her.
Chloe!
I owe her a phone call. Every day, when she or Fizzy call to check on me, Harrison intercepts their calls so I can rest up.

I dial Chloe’s number and she answers on the second ring. “Frankie, you have arisen! Must be all that TLC Harrison’s been doling out,” she teases.

“You can say that again. I wouldn’t have survived without him. Really.”

“Harrison’s the best, but then, you already know how I feel about him.”

“I agree, but I’m a little worried…” I admit, feeling sheepish. “I don’t think Harrison has romantic feelings for me anymore.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Chloe says in her usual blunt way. “Harrison’s a great guy, but do you think he’d be at your side 24/7 if he didn’t have romantic feelings for you? He has a lot going on, including a busy practice.”

“That’s true. But you should have heard him raving about Fizzy after she worked with him on Saturday. I’m worried he prefers her company to mine. He’s always saying she’s so good with animals and so much fun to be with.”

“So what? They have a friendship and a working relationship,” Chloe points out matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but I’ve seen them together and he’s always smiling when she’s around.”

“Doesn’t he smile when you’re around him too?”

“Not always, I have a tendency to frustrate him.”

She laughs. “So, don’t do things to frustrate him already. Didn’t you tell me Fizzy had a mystery lover?”

“Yes, his name is Santiago and he’s back in her life.”

“What kind of relationship do they have?”

“It seems to be very passionate, but with no-strings. I mean he whisked her away this week, just like that, after having disappeared for a while.” Fizzy is uncomplicated in her relationships with friends, family and her lover. It’s as if she wears a Teflon coat and let’s things slide over her and not annoy her. I wish I could have some of her ease.

“Have you talked to her lately?”

“Nope. I haven’t had any contact with her since Santiago returned. Whenever she’s called for an update on me, she’s gotten it from Harrison. I can’t help worrying that Harrison has fallen for Fizzy.”

“I doubt it.” Chloe is acting like my fears are unfounded, but maybe she’s being her usual kind self and sparing my feelings. “But there are ways to find out.”

“How?”

“It’s simple—ask him.”

“I can’t do that. I would feel pathetic,” I say, feeling foolish.

“Then throw away all the reasons you didn’t want to consider Harrison and show him how you feel. Stop thinking so much and go for it.”

“Oh, right. That’s easier said than done.”

“How come I knew you were going to say that?” she asks, sounding wiser than I.

The doorbell rings.

“Gotta go, Chloe. I think Harrison’s at the door.”

“Put on your sexy baby doll and greet him with a kiss.” I roll my eyes at Chloe’s giggles as she hangs up.

“Hey, beautiful,” Harrison says, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. If I didn’t love him before, I do now. Of course, he’s being nice because my face and neck are covered in dried up pox and ointment and I haven’t bothered with eye makeup since I’ve gotten sick. What you see is what you get. But he didn’t have to call me beautiful and I appreciate the warm glow in his eyes.

“Hey, Dr. Hot,” I blurt out. The words came out before I could stop them. Stifling a gasp, I clap my hand over my mouth as I feel my face redden.

“Dr. Hot?” Harrison laughs. “Have you been talking to Fizzy?”

“No.” Why would he mention Fizzy? I wonder grumpily. “Why do you ask?”

“Anything you’d like to share with me?” His green eyes twinkle with a teasing glint.

“Not at the moment.” I will my face to stop blushing, but it feels aflame.

Harrison raises a sardonic eyebrow and his mouth kicks up at the corners into a sexy grin.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I have a hard time meeting his eyes.

Did Fizzy blab to him about my search for Dr. Hot?

I sure hope not!

Romeo: Harrison’s having fun making Francesca blush. Serves you right, lady! Stop being so wishy-washy or you’re going to lose him to Fizzy.

Not sure what’s going on in Fizzyland, but Santiago is one scary-looking dude! I got a glimpse of him yesterday in the parking lot when he and Fizzy were leaving with Coquette. He looks like a dark alley in the black night, knife-wielding kinda guy.

Grrr, I miss Coquette. Ever since that shady Santiago character came back, I haven’t seen my beautiful little bitch. Shall I come to your rescue, ma petite schnoodlette?

Chapter Twenty-Five

The doorbell rings, rescuing me from the awkwardness.

When Harrison opens it, Devon is leaning against the doorframe, looking quite pleased with himself. He nods to Harrison and saunters into my living room uninvited.

I stare at both of them and marvel at the contrast. Devon looks every bit the Aussie lover boy who is bad to the bone. Then there’s Harrison—strong, rugged and manly. The look in Harrison’s eyes makes my tummy dance, my heart pulse wildly and my blood simmer. The naughty look in Devon’s eyes does nothing for me—
nada
. It’s Harrison I want.

“Francesca, I just read your email,” Devon says, drawing my attention.

“The one about Bowled Over?”

Devon’s keen eyes sweep over me. “Yes, and also your chicken pox. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He shakes his head. “I have remedies for everything, you know,” he says, giving me a salacious wink.

I glance at Harrison to gauge his reaction. His green eyes have darkened and narrowed into hard slits. I’ve seen that look before and he’s definitely not pleased.

Romeo starts barking and running around in circles at the sight of Devon. Uh oh.

“Devon, I’d like you to meet Harrison. Dr. Taylor is my neighbor and good friend,” I say, trying to keep my voice bright.

“Yes, we met at the dog park, remember?” Devon says.

“Oh, that’s right.” I turn to Romeo who is growling and tugging at Devon’s pants cuff with his sharp little teeth. “Romeo, stop it. Down boy!”

Struggling to dislodge his pants leg from Romeo’s death grip, Devon shakes Harrison’s hand. “Good to see you, mate. I’m going to be chairing Francesca’s Bowled Over event.”

“Oh?” Harrison turns to me with a disbelieving look before he asks Devon, “Are you a cardiologist?”

“No, I’m a sex therapist. An advocate for women’s orgasms,” he states with a smug smile.

Harrison’s brows lift a fraction and the corner of his mouth curls upward into a barely hidden sneer. “I’ll bet,” he says in a dry tone.

“He’s not
my
doctor,” I blurt out. “When Alex bummed out on me for Bowled Over, Dr. Hamme kindly stepped in.” My voice gets higher and higher as I strive to be heard over Romeo’s yipping.

“Romeo, hush!” I command, giving Devon an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. He’s still not used to you.”

“You’d think he would remember me after our last date,” Devon says with a shrug.

I can’t believe he just said that. Now Harrison thinks I’m dating Devon.
Say something, dummy!

“Well, it has been a—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Devon cuts in.

Damn him, I was about to say, “It’s been a long time since our one and only date,” but he didn’t let me finish.

“Slip him a little dog nip and he’ll be fine,” Devon quips with a chuckle.

Romeo barks raucously at Devon’s joke. I give a crazy, high-pitched giggle and both men turn toward me with a quizzical look.

“I’m still not feeling myself,” I say, swallowing another hysterical giggle. I sound as if I’m gargling.

“You’ll be in fine shape soon enough, Francesca darling,” Devon assures me. His silver hypnotic gaze is meant to do a number on me, but it doesn’t work. The only eyes I’m aware of are Harrison’s as he levels a stern glare at Devon. I fantasize that his look says, “Don’t call my girl darling. Francesca is mine.”
How I wish that were so…

“Thanks, Devon. Please sit down.” I gesture toward my sofa.

Harrison sprawls on the couch next to me and Romeo promptly crawls on his lap. Devon sits close to my other side and I feel like the filling in a Manwich.

I pull away from Devon and give him a look that says “back off,” but it goes unheeded. The man doesn’t believe in personal space.

“Aren’t you afraid I’m contagious?” I ask, exasperated.

“Not at all.” He pats my bare knee with his elegant, long-fingered hand. I’m wearing my favorite sky blue sundress and from the way he’s looking at me, he likes it too. “I already had chicken pox.”

My iPhone pings with a text message, cutting the thick tension in the room.

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