“I doubt it.”
“Trust me.” He caught her hand, pulling her up. “What do you have to lose?”
Everything, she thought, but she followed him anyway.
* * * *
They’d only managed a few hours of sleep, so the sun was just coming up over the horizon in a burst of molten orange, a brass and copper symphony playing out in reflection on the water.
Doc’s hand clasped Carrie’s as they walked barefoot along the edge of the beach. She had changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, her sandals swinging from her other hand as the lacy edge of the water chased their footsteps down the shoreline.
Doc was still wearing last night’s clothes-they both needed a shower and a good night’s sleep, but neither of them cared.
“Well, you were right.” Carrie snuck a glance up at him, smiling at the tousled mess of his hair.
Doc laughed. “Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a woman say those words out loud.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “This did cheer me up.”
“Oh, I’m not done cheering you up yet,” he said, stopping and putting his arms around her waist.
“No?”
“You can’t see it, but…” He touched his finger to her lips. “Your mouth is still turned down a little at the corners.”
“Is it?”
He nodded seriously. “That means my job isn’t done yet.”
“Well I guess you’d better get to work…” She felt her mouth curling up into a smile.
“Agreed.” He leaned in so close she could feel his breath, her eyes closing in anticipation. “I think I’d better start here.”
His mouth captured hers, a sweet, gentle kiss, nothing demanding or insistent, but it still made her knees weak.
“That’s a good place to start,” she breathed as they parted.
“But not the best place to finish.” He grinned. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” She had no choice but to follow him down the beach as he led the way around a patch of sea grass and up toward a house. “What is this place?”
“It’s my parent’s place.” He dug into his jeans and plucked out a key.
“Nice.” It was cool inside, the air conditioning on-even the dew-wet mornings in Key West were warm and humid. It was large and spacious and utterly quiet.
He led the way, up a flight of stairs, opening a door to a bathroom. “Would you like a shower? Or maybe a bath?”
The tub was huge, black and marble and Carrie’s eyes lit up when she saw it.
“A bath,” she said immediately.
Doc took some towels out from the linen closet and put them on the counter. “I’ll get us some breakfast.”
She ran a hot bath and added the bubbles sitting at the side of the tub as well, melting into the water. I’m dreaming, she thought, floating lazily, eyes closed, her thoughts filled with Doc. She should have been worried about Maureen-and she was, a little. But the man downstairs cooking them both breakfast had somehow stepped into her life and obliterated everything else.
This is crazy, she decided, washing her hair and rinsing it, then running a soft, fragrant bar of soap over her curves. She was imagining him, his hands on her, touching her like that. This night-morning, now-wasn’t going to end without sex. They both knew it, but the anticipation was exhilarating.
She found a large, fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the door and wrapped herself in it, making her way downstairs. Doc was in the kitchen, the radio on-a blues station-flipping pancakes in one pan and worrying eggs in another.
“It smells fantastic.” She curled herself into one of the kitchen chairs, plucking a banana from a bunch on the table and peeling it. “Can I help?”
“You sit.” He slid pancakes onto their plates and then scrambled eggs. “I’ll serve.”
“That’s a switch.” She smiled as he put a plate in front of her. His dark curls were wet-he’d obviously taken the time to take a shower and he was still wearing boxers, but they were a different pair.
“I hope it’s okay.” He nodded at her food, already halfway through his eggs.
“Yummy,” she agreed, pouring syrup and licking some off her fingers. His gaze was on her, although his fork didn’t stop moving from plate to mouth.
“So why do they call you ‘Doc?’”
“Pre-med.” He swallowed and then grinned. “And I used to, uh…be the guy you could get stuff from.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Used to?”
“Yeah well…” He grabbed a bottle of ketchup and squirted more onto his eggs.
“Once you start med school you really get an education about what better living through chemistry can do to you in the long run.”
She nodded, making a happy noise when she took a bite of pancakes.
“Chocolate chips!”
He smiled. “So what about you? I know you work in the cafeteria. I know you’re graduating next year. What’s your major?”
“Business administration.” She took a sip of orange juice and made a face-too sour after the sugary sweetness of pancakes.
“Really?” His eyebrows went up. “I didn’t figure you for a business major. I thought you’d be into something more creative…art major or something…”
“If I had a choice, I’d be a creative writing major,” she admitted, sopping up syrup with the last of her pancakes.
“Don’t you?” He frowned. “Have a choice, I mean?”
“Not if I want to get a job when I graduate.”
He nodded. “Family pressure?”