Whoa. Her heart started to pound a tattoo in her chest. This was getting a little too deep, a little too quick.
He must have read something in her expression, because he smiled slow and easy before dropping a soft, yet still nerve-tingling kiss on her lips. Lifting his head, he murmured, “Unfortunately, sweet Cherry, I can’t stay. I’m on my way to the hospital. I’m on-call tonight.”
Relief and disappointment both poured through Cherry. “Oh.”
Sliding his hands from her waist, he rested them on her hips and straightened. “Wish I could stay and show you what fun role-playing can be, but that’s going to have to wait for another day.” He winked.
Feeling more sure of herself, she arched one brow. “So you’re on-call?”
“Yep.” His thumbs drew lazy circles on her hips.
“So what would you have done if I’d met you at the door dressed as a naughty nurse?”
His grin was wide. “Oh, I know you. You wouldn’t have.”
His assuredness galled her a little. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“Oh, I do.” Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose.
“But what if I had?” she persisted. “Then what?”
“I’d have gone to work with a hard-on. Not a good look at the hospital.” With a sigh, he stepped back. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” Leaning against the door frame, she watched as he took out a card from his back pocket and handed it to her.
“I’m invited to a dinner in a fortnight. Please come with me.”
“Dinner?” Cherry looked down at the guilt-edged card. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“It’s for me and a partner,” he continued. “That partner being you.” Reaching out, he twirled one of her silky locks around his finger and gave it a gentle tug. “Girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? Looking up at Rick, she felt the word practically slide through her senses. She’d never been any man’s girlfriend, not even as a teenager. He thought of her as his girlfriend. A warm flush went through her.
He smiled down at her. “I have to go. Call me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
He looked blank for a second, then shook his head. “Of course. Sometimes I can be a bit vague.”
“Not where it counts,” she said, then immediately covered her mouth. “Umm...sorry.”
“Cheeky chit.” Amused yet again, he bent down and caught her mouth in a kiss that was fast and deep and hard. His tongue swept through her, leaving his taste, his mouth controlling the kiss, drawing from her, pulling at the strings of desire inside her. Lifting his head, he licked his lips. “Yummy.”
She was still standing there in a daze when he took a card from his wallet and tucked it down the front of her blouse, his fingertips unerringly pushing it between her breasts. He grinned devilishly at her, winked, and walked back down the path towards his car.
She couldn’t believe the way he made her feel, so desirable, so cherished, so sexy. So warm. Impulsively, she stepped forward. “Rick?”
He turned and looked back at her. “Yes?”
“I’ll come to the party with you.”
His grin was unabashedly pleased. He gave her a quick salute, strode to his car, got inside and drove away.
Closing the door behind her, Cherry leaned back against it and smiled dreamily down at Frizz and Sugar, who were eyeing her with the expectation of dinner.
“Mmmm,” she said. “He’s a catch all right. And right now, he’s all mine.”
With a little giggle of pure joy, she slid his card from between her breasts, then she read the dinner invite card in her other hand.
And went ice cold.
Chapter Eight
Cherry looked up at the row of dress shops and felt ill. Shopping for clothes was something she hated. All the pretty clothes were too small, all the plus-sized fashions available in bold colours and large patterns that seemed to scream out ‘Look at me! I’m fat! Too fat for pretty, dainty patterns!’
Blah. Wrinkling her nose, she went into yet another dress shop. Yep, just as she’d suspected, the dainty dresses with cute little patterns on them were for the smaller-sized women. The only dresses there in her size had big, bold, red and black flowers all over them. Like she’d wear red and black anyway – not in this lifetime.
She’d have walked out then and there except that she needed something nice to wear to the dinner party. When she walked into Margaret Clarke’s home on the arm of Dr Rick Reed, she wanted to do him proud, to look lovely.
Inwardly, she cringed. If she’d known who was holding the party, she’d have refused to go, but after telling him she’d accompany him to the party, and he’d been so pleased, there was no way she could back down.