Dr. Neurotic(10)

I had been young-twenty-two, to be exact, and too young for marriage.  That didn't apply to everyone, but it definitely applied to me. I had a  wanderlust, a fervor for living life and building myself into a strong,  independent woman. My fiancé had wanted me to settle down, and I wanted  to spread out and up. I begged him to see the light, but he wanted me  how he wanted me.

I was just glad I found the strength to step away, regardless of the  scrutiny. Granted, I'd hauled ass all the way across the country and  stayed gone, so I hadn't exactly had to run into these people at the  fucking grocery store every day.

Since that ended, I'd been boots-or stilettos, depending on the  occasion-to the ground and running as I chased after career goals and  personal bucket list items.

I occasionally dated. And sometimes, if I'd really enjoyed the guy's  company, one date would turn into more. But for the most part, the train  tracks I was following were more like a monorail.

Prior to Nick Raines, the time of death of my last casual date was over  six months ago. His name was Barry, and he owned three commercial car  washes throughout LA and Malibu. We weren't a match made in franchise  heaven.

So, I guess, really, Nick's inexperience was a remarkable mirror image  of my own. I just thought I knew how to play the game. Not to mention,  it was pretty fucking adorable that he was willing to openly discuss the  barren qualities of his past. Most men would be grunting about what a  sex god they were as they chatted up some other woman at the bar and  forgot all about me.

Nick was humble. Grounded. Between his career and his daughter, he  looked like he had his shit together. Color me impressed. And intrigued.



Nick: I get it if you've blocked my number at this point. But I'm really  sorry, Charlotte. I think you're funny and fun and quite possibly have  the best laugh I've ever heard.         

     



 



He liked my laugh? Liked it?

Good God, if I called my mother right now, she'd tell me to marry this one.



Me: Apology accepted and appreciated. So, besides being surprised and flattered, what else are you?



Nick: Wondering. If you'll have lunch with me.



Me: I have a meeting with a client at 3, but other than that, I'm fairly flexible with my schedule.



Nick: How about noon?



Me: Is this, like, a date?



A once-burned woman confirms. Remember that.



Nick: That depends.



Me: On what?



Nick: Fleetwood Mac's Sex Pants. ;) I'm kidding. This is definitely a date.



A date with Nick? Yes, please!

I couldn't stop myself from fist-pumping the air.



Me: Hahahaha Okay. How about I meet you at your office at noon, and you  can wine and dine me at the cute little deli up the street from your  office?



Nick: Please tell me you're talking about Mitch's …



Me: Of course. It's only the best goddamn deli in the city.



Nick: Okay. Mitch's, "the best goddamn deli in the city"? Now you're speaking my love language. It's a date.



My heart fluttered.



Me: Perfect. See you then.



One tap of my index finger to the screen and I hit send. Unfortunately,  as the message disappeared and the screen cleared to home, time glared  in my direction. Shit. It was half past nine, and I hadn't even put a  dent into today's to-do list.

You better work, bitch.




After barreling through half of Monday's work responsibilities, and  micromanaging the other half to my assistant, Laura, I managed to slip  out of the office a little later than I'd planned, but still in enough  time to arrive at Nick's office only ten minutes after twelve.

When I stepped through the doors of his waiting room, two things stood  out. Though, to be fair, one was decidedly more of a sore thumb than the  other. Nick's perky receptionist, Jenna, was very familiar and showed  no signs of sore thumbs at all.

But the two men holding cameras and filming footage of reception … well, they were all swollen up.

What the fuck? Was there some kind of emergency?

I checked in with Jenna, a crooked eyebrow refusing to go down on my  face. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but she didn't open her mouth  to do so-or otherwise explain the dog and pony show. She stepped  forward, and I followed, all the way into Nick's office, where I  realized suddenly one of the cameras from reception had come along for  the ride.

Not to mention that once I'd stepped inside of his office, another  cameraman had already set up shop, filming anything and everything that  occurred around him.

What in the ever-loving fuck was happening?

I felt like I was on Candid Camera or something. Any second, I wondered  if a clown would jump out of a closet and scare the ever-living shit out  of me.

"Hey, Charlotte," Nick greeted me from behind his desk, that all too  familiar smile of his holding my attention hostage. "Hungry?"

"Uh … " I muttered and glanced at the white elephants, otherwise known as a  fucking film crew, standing in the room. "What in the hell is happening  right now?"

"I guess I forgot to mention that I'm currently being filmed for a docuseries about the hospital, huh?"

"Yeah," I said through a surprised laugh. "I think it's safe to say you  never mentioned the fact that I'd be on camera while stuffing my face  full of meat. Deli meat!" Jesus Christmas, Charlotte.

Nick chuckled. "Don't worry. They won't be following us to lunch."

"Well, that's good news." A snort escaped my nose before I could stop  it. Instantly, my cheeks heated, and I covered my face with my hand. Now  is not the time to snort like a freaking pig.

His big brown eyes locked with mine, and a hint of a smile crested his lips.

It was cute. Really cute. But I resisted the powerful pull and sighed  instead. I mean, a little heads-up would have been nice. Cripes, if I'd  known I was going to be on camera, I might have considered brushing my  hair or applying fresh makeup before leaving my office.

I wasn't looking for some kind of big break into Hollywood, but I'd  prefer that my on-screen debut didn't occur after speed-walking five  blocks and sweating like a glass of fucking iced tea.

Nick stood up from his desk and slipped his phone, wallet, and keys into  the back pockets of his dress slacks. He glanced to the camera once as  he was closing the distance between us, but any apprehension at a public  display must have disappeared as he made it within striking distance.  His arm was warm and heavy around my shoulder, and his breath felt like  sex in disguise as he whispered into my ear. "You look beautiful,  Charlotte. I'm sorry I was dense, but I'm glad I'm not anymore."         

     



 

For a man who hadn't dated since George W. Bush was president, he  definitely had the capability of charming a woman. Signals weren't his  strong suit, but when it came down to saying the important things, he  hadn't let me down yet.

"Me too," I whispered back. "Though I should probably mention, I'm just here for the food."

He laughed, and with a hand to the small of my back, he led me out of  his office and toward the main elevators of the Medical Arts Building  wing. And, as we cleared the lobby doors, we finally lost our third  wheel-the cameraman.

Once we arrived at Mitch's Deli, I scavenged a booth in the far corner  of the restaurant while Nick rounded up our sandwiches and drinks from  the counter-two pastramis on rye, a water for him, and an iced tea for  me.

He set our plates and cups on the table and slid into the cushioned seat across from mine.

"So … " I started, and he quirked a brow in my direction, seemingly already anticipating my words.

"I know," he muttered as he added extra mustard to his sandwich and then  offered the still partially full packet to me. I took it and likewise  adorned my meat. "The cameras and film crew shit is ridiculous, huh?"

"A bit?" I laughed and he grinned.

"I didn't want to do the show. At all." He shrugged. "Looks like I got talked into it, though, doesn't it?"

I shrugged. He was involved all right. I had the thirty pounds in camera weight to prove it.



Yes, I know cameras don't actually add weight. Just visually. Yeah, yeah. Just go with it.



"Of course, then I was so busy getting you to forgive me, and you know,  occasionally working … " He smirked. "I kind of forgot they were there."

"How anyone could forget they were being filmed is a mystery," I muttered, and he chuckled.

"Considering this was the first day of filming, you'd be surprised how quickly you get used to those bastards."

"So … what kind of reality show is it?" I asked and took a small bite of my sandwich.

"It's a docuseries about my and two other doctors' careers," he  explained after a quick sip of water. "Actually, I have Will and Scott  to blame for roping me into it."

"Will and Scott?"

"The other two doctors who are also being filmed."

"So, is it supposed to be like the real-life Grey's Anatomy or something?"

"Good God, I fucking hope not," he answered. "The way our hospital  executives and the producers from the show pitched it to us, the series  is just supposed to be, like, a day in the life of a physician kind of  thing."