Love Lies Beneath by Ellen Hopkins Page B

don’t always reflect that. And he’s manipulative.”
    He doesn’t elaborate, and though my curiosity is screaming for more, it probably isn’t wise to ask for details. “I have a niece who’s that age. I think all teenagers are manipulative, up to a point. Always looking for detours around the rules. It comes with the ‘I’m grown-up, you can’t tell me what to do’ thing. I had the same attitude. In fact, I still don’t much care for rules.”
    â€œAh, see, but medicine is all about rules. Which is why I feel the desperate need to escape every now and then.”
    Chef Christopher emerges from the kitchen and comes over to the table, seeking praise. When I reward him with a healthy dose, he offers a nightcap, which Cavin and I are happy to accept. By the time Paolo brings the bill, I’m just a bit blurry around the edges, and that is a rare delight.
    Cavin tries to hand Paolo his credit card, but I’m clear enough to stop him. “My treat, remember?”
    â€œBut I wouldn’t have ordered the Cristal.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I would have.”
    Cavin surrenders reluctantly.
    â€œHave you never had a woman buy you dinner before?”
    â€œActually, no.”
    â€œI think you need to set your sights higher.”
    He smiles. “I think I just have.”

Thirteen
    It’s still relatively early when Cavin drops me back at the hotel. He pulls up as close as he can get to the door, comes around to help me out, waving away the bellman. “How do you feel about kissing in public?”
    â€œWith the right man, I’d do more than kiss in public, though maybe not in full view of a hotel lobby.”
    He laughs gently, pulls me into his arms. “We shall remain circumspect. For the moment.”
    His amaretto-laced kiss is respectful. That in itself is unusual enough, but what’s ridiculous is how much it’s turning me on. Maybe it’s the float of Black Orchid cologne over the cling of Italian food. Maybe it’s the soft pillow of his lips, or the way our tongues seem like old friends, just saying hello. Whatever it is, I want more.
    Apparently, so does Cavin. When he pulls back, maintaining circumspectness, his face doesn’t retreat very far. “I’m surgery-free tomorrow. May I play tour guide, and perhaps cook dinner for you?”
    â€œYou can repair broken bodies and manage a kitchen, too?”
    â€œI am a man of many talents, milady.”
    â€œThat, I believe. And I’d love to.”
    He brushes his lips against mine, a promise in the gesture. “I’ll pick you up around one, if that works for you.”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    I can feel his eyes on my back, watching my lurching gait. “We’ll spend a little time practicing that,” he calls. “I’ll even teach you how to do stairs.”
    Tonight I avoid stairs and take the elevator up to the room. Mel is still awake. “Waiting up for me?” I ask.
    â€œWell, of course. Do you think I could sleep? How did it go?”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œOkay? Just okay?”
    â€œOkay, it was better than okay. I prefer not to jinx myself.” I give her a run-down, from the antipasti to the dolce. “We really connected. No sex of course . . .” I gesture to my leg. “Jeez. I wonder how long it will be before that’s a viable possibility.”
    â€œWhen was the last time you had dinner with a man—not work related—that didn’t result in sex?”
    Valid question. “Considering I’ve been married most of my adult life, albeit to three different men, my dinner dates not related to work have been rarer than you might assume. And, believe it or not, they haven’t all led to sex. I do have standards.”
    â€œGood to know. Does that include the men you pick up in bars?”
    Ouch. “So you know, that isn’t something I do very often, either. But,