Rick Sexed Up the Doc by Leona Bushman Page A

she had prepared left her mind. In Tacoma, she probably would have walked away despite the handsome visage. But in Yakima, in her area, she felt safer to flirt a little.
    Delighted laughter poured out of her at his mild flirting.
    His eyes said he not only liked what he saw, but wanted to keep looking.
    “I’m on my way to work,” she said. Yep, boring. That’s me. I wanted to be witty and funny and what comes out of my mouth? “I’m on my way to work?” So much for flirting.
    “Have lunch with me,” he said.
    Shock caused her to pause in her act of turning back to the light to wait for her walk sign. “You work fast, sir. You don’t even know my name,” she said, even though she felt tingles in her abdomen at his attentions.
    “And I’m not likely to learn it if I let you walk out of my life on your way to work,” he said, unmoved by her indignation. “Have lunch with me. Somewhere public. My name’s Rick Smith, by the way.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.
    She opened her mouth to say no, but, “Okay, it’ll need to be close by. I don’t have much time for lunch between patients,” came out instead.
    “’Patients?’” he asked, his voice pitched a little higher than before.
    “Yes, patients ,” she replied, cocking her head sideways. “Is that a problem?”
    “No, not exactly, but…” he said, shifting from foot to foot. “But my job might be a problem for you. It’s not exactly posh.”
    “ Why? You think I’m a snob ?” she asked angrily.
    “I—Look. Can I tell you at lunch?”
    “Yes,” she said, and smiled at the look on his face. “And I’m Nelda,” she supplied almost defiantly.
    “Do you always agree so harshly?” he mused. Before she could reply he said, “Tell me where and I’ll pick you up at twelve thirty? Or do you have a different time for your lunch?”
    “No, that’s a good time, actually,” she said. Her phone rang and she dug in her purse for it.
    ***
    Rick watched her smooth chocolate hands disappear into her purse and imagined them on his skin, the dark contrasting with his white and fought the temptation to adjust his jeans when they tightened.
    “Dr. Tuefale,” she said, her tone brisk. “Yes, she’s my patient. Yes, give her whatever the house doctor recommends and stall the contractions. I’ll be right there.” She snapped the phone into its case and looked at him. “I’m sorry. Lunch might be off. I have an emergency.”
    He missed her flirty tone already. “Want a lift? I have my motorbike right there,” he said, pointing to his Harley parked in front of a coffee house. He enjoyed the look on her face as she realized he was offering her a ride on it.
    “Do you have a spare helmet?” she asked cautiously, but her eyes danced. He thanked whatever fates gave him this chance and grinned.
    “I always carry a spare helmet. You never know when you’ll meet the right girl and need it,” he said, the double entendre was definite and she rewarded him with her gorgeous wide smile. Nearly as tall as him without heels, he could so easily imagine those legs wrapped around him while he had her against a wall and—
    “Are you okay, Rick?” she asked.
    Shit. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” He wanted to groan, not only for his faux pas, but for the pain in his jeans when he walked to his bike. After he took the spare helmet off the back of the seat, he gave it to her. Noting her lightweight clothing, he took off his leather jacket and handed it to her as well.
    “What’s this for?” she asked.
    This told him she was not experienced on the back of a bike. He would love to teach her to ride. “It’s protection in case of an accident. You don’t want road rash.”
    “I don’t want to be in an accident,” she replied dryly.
    She was quick. He loved her humorous side already. Even though he might be setting himself up for another fall, he enjoyed his banter with her. He hoped she would still give him a chance when she