"That was simply a warm-up. Now, I'm going to officially court you."
She gazed at him a moment before shaking her head. "Court me? Really? Isn't that what people do when they're planning an arranged marriage?"
"The definition of courting is to run after, pursue, chase . . ." There was a determination about him that she was enjoying, though she tried to tamp down the feeling.
"You've got your etymology completely wrong, by the way-rather shocking for a doctor. The root in court has nothing to do with the cur root meaning ‘to run.' Cur . . . how appropriate."
"Details, details," he said loftily.
"In any case, Dr. Whitman, you're leaving out one important fact about the verb."
"I think I covered it all."
"To court is generally taken to refer to being involved with someone romantically with the intention of marrying them." That would scare him away!
"Hmm . . ." There was a pause as he leaned closer. "I think I like that definition best."
He held her gaze without blinking, making a shudder travel through her. But she finally turned her head, lifted her wineglass, and took a generous sip. No, not eighty proof, so she'd have to improvise.
"I'm on a date. This is highly inappropriate," she finally said when the silence was too much to bear.
"I don't see your date. That makes you fair game."
He seemed to have an answer for everything. "Did you just say that pursuing me is nothing more than a game?" If she could somehow twist his words, maybe she'd get out of this unscorched.
"You can call it whatever you want, but I want you, Sage. I want to take you on dates, spend time with you, learn about you, and . . . kiss you. I want to strip off your clothes, run my lips over every inch of your body, and sink deep inside you while you're calling out my name." He ended in a whisper, and she shivered in response.
"It's not polite to be chatting over there and ignoring the rest of us," Ted said.
Sage lifted her gaze, seeing that the entire table was now full, including her absentee date-and all eyes were on her. She wanted to reply that it also wasn't polite for him to run off, but she kept her mouth closed.
Was her skin flushed? It had to be flushed. Was it obvious what Spence had just been saying to her? For the life of her, she couldn't get words to emerge from her tight throat. This man was turning her inside out, and in front of everyone they worked with, too.
"You are absolutely right. We were just discussing work. Anyone have strong opinions about the new oral anticoagulants?" Spence asked.
She was grateful, though she knew the medical joke was at her expense, a sidelong reference to the way words were stuck in her mouth. She could now take a much-needed breath.
"That's my boy, always teaching. I'm sure Sage has a lot of stories to tell from her first few months of residency," Martin said, and he turned his full attention to her.
Sage was relieved by the change of subject. It allowed her to talk of what she knew, what she was confident about. Before long, the entire table was engaged in the conversation. Stories of humorous medical mishaps flew about, laughter spilled out, and way too much wine and eggnog was consumed. The evening had certainly turned around.
When it came time to dance, her date showed once again why he was still single. He stepped on her toes, scuffing her new pair of heels, and, while demonstrating to the world at large that "I Got Rhythm" hadn't been written for him, was boring her to tears with his endless chatter. She wished he'd stayed true to type and had run off with his drinking buddy again.
When she looked out at the crowd and found Spence dancing with one of the night nurses, whose hands were running up and down his arms, Sage felt a searing flash of jealousy. Ridiculous! She was there with her own date, and she didn't want to be with Spence.
So what if it looked like Spence would be taking the woman home for the night? So what if he and that . . . female fell in love and lived happily ever after? She didn't want him-she didn't want anyone. She had to focus on her career, and only her career right now.
So did she care when Spence kept his distance for the rest of the evening? She had to admit, after she left the party-Ted dropped her off at her apartment-she felt a dull ache in her stomach, a deep emptiness. Maybe being alone wasn't what she really wanted.
No. She had to shake off these feelings. She was happy with her career choice, a choice she'd always known would lead to a lot of lonely nights. It was worth it because she got to do what she truly loved. Not everyone could say the same thing.
She was also incredibly grateful when she watched Ted drive away without even walking her to her door. It was early, only ten, and he hadn't even asked if she wanted a nightcap. Maybe he'd been just as relieved to get away from her as she was to get away from him.
It was really kind of sad. It hadn't helped that her date, the most boring man alive, had been in the same room as Spence all night. Maybe, before Spence, she might have had a great time with Ted. Then again, maybe not.
"Stop thinking about Spence," she muttered as she approached her front door. "You don't want him, certainly don't need him, and have nothing in common with him. Just focus on work."
As she reached the top of the steps, she noticed a bright red package sitting there with a large gold bow and a tag with her name in bold cursive letters.
She loved gifts. There was something magical about opening a wrapped present. Yes, she was perfectly capable of going out and buying her own trinkets, but knowing that someone had thought about you enough to give you something he or she had chosen just for you . . . that was special.
Should she wait until Christmas to open it? It certainly looked like a Christmas gift. There was nothing else to tell her who it was from. She shook the snow off her shoulders, then picked up the package and walked into her warm apartment.
After removing her coat and sitting down in the living room with the gift on the table in front of her, she eyed it eagerly. Who was she kidding? There was no way she'd wait. She undid the tape holding the lid down, and when she lifted the lid, she simply gasped.
She picked up the note and held it while gazing at the crystal red apple tree ornament that was sitting on a cushion of bright green velvet.
I have decided to be your fairy-tale prince. It's time for me to wake up my Sleeping Beauty.
Spence
Her heart melted. Yes, it was silly. Yes, it was a bit cheesy. And, yes, she was in trouble-total-and-complete-meltdown kind of trouble. She was falling for this man even though she knew she shouldn't, and knew it could be disastrous. But how could she not when he was claiming to be her very own Prince Charming?
"Is it normal to have sharp, shooting pains running up and down my legs and spine?"
"Yes, unfortunately, and it's nothing that can be helped. When you're on your feet for twelve hours straight, that tends to happen," the nurse said with a laugh before trudging off down the hallway. Sage already knew that, but somehow it felt better to voice a complaint.
Sage had been working long shifts for five days in a row and she felt-and looked-like the walking dead. She had the next two days off and she wasn't going to leave her apartment the entire time. Bed, food, and romantic comedies on the television screen-she didn't care in what order.
When she turned a corner and saw Spence walking toward her, her heart did a little flip-flop and she couldn't prevent a smile from popping up on her face. The man was a gift-giving genius. She wanted to not like them, but she couldn't help it. How was a woman to resist when she kept getting packages on her front doorstep and in her locker at work?
She knew she should tell him she couldn't accept these presents, but each one was so unique, so special, that there was no way to give them back. Grace was green with envy each time Sage showed her the newest installment in Spence's recurring gift club.
He'd left her the crystal apple, two silver bells, a miniature dragon, and a single red rose. All of them had a theme from her favorite princess movies, all had a meaning, and each came with its own note.
This man was flipping her world upside down and she was so ready to pull him into the nearest broom closet and show him her appreciation-and maybe, just maybe, relieve the constant ache in her body, which grew worse every time she saw him.
"How did your last trauma case go?" he asked, standing well within her personal space.
She didn't care.
"It went well. I have to admit I was a little disappointed when I had to come back home for my residency, but I'm learning a lot and logging massive hours. And not only is it excellent training, but it's been good to be home." Sage started walking toward the locker room, because, as much fun as it was to stand there and chat with Spence, she really was exhausted and more than ready to get back to her apartment and put her feet up.