“I wouldn’t say you’re cold. Just…analytical. That’s just the impression I’ve gotten in your work at The Family Center.” When she noticed his scowl, she added quickly, “I’m not complaining. I’ve had reason to be thankful my son possesses a surgeon with such a precise, logical brain.” She was increasingly feeling the need to escape when he didn’t say anything, just continued to pin her with a stare that made her want to squirm. She checked her watch.
“Speaking of Brendan, we better get going if we still want to pick out the invitations.”
“You don’t really believe I’m a walking robot, do you?” he asked.
Her eyes widened slightly. Damn. Had he read her mind again?
On one occasion last year, Eric had taken over the job of The Family Center’s regular physician while Dr. McIntosh was on vacation. Eric had refused to fill an anti-anxiety medication for Barney Glendan, a patient of Colleen’s with a concurrent history of substance abuse and panic disorder. Eric insisted the pill was mildly habit-forming. Colleen had gone to battle with him. Eric had never once lost his calm. His methodical explanation of why he wouldn’t prescribe the medication had infuriated Colleen. Barney had been on the medication for years to good result and had remained sober just as long. She’d told Eric in no uncertain terms that his medical decision was completely counterproductive to the patient’s health given his history of sobriety and compliance. She’d contacted Dr. McIntosh and had him fill the prescription, much to Eric’s irritation. Colleen had stood firm, however. Nobody, not even the brilliant Eric Reyes, stood in the way of her patients’ well-being. Later, as she’d driven home, she had called him an insufferable, arrogant robot.
But, of course, Eric didn’t need to know that.
She closed her notebook and shoved it along with her pen into her purse.
“I do not think you’re a robot. Some people are ruled by logic, some by their emotions. That hardly makes you a robot,” she said crisply.
“Uh-huh,” he muttered, his tone leading her to believe he knew he was being placated. He swiped the check from beneath her fingers when she grabbed for it. “The thing that really bothers you—”
“I never said I was bothered by anything—”
“—isn’t that I’m analytic or cold,” he continued, ignoring her defense and tossing some bills on the table. “It’s that you recognize we’re a lot alike.”
Colleen snorted. She couldn’t help it. “Alike? Us?”
He just nodded calmly, completely unaffected by her scorn. “We’re both opinionated. We’re both driven. We both fight for our patients’ well-being. We’re both known for being stubborn.” He stood.
“Oh, that’s your brilliant analysis of the situation, is it?” Colleen asked, half-irritated, half-amused, as she slid out of the booth. “Well, you may be brilliant, but you’re dead wrong.”
“How’s that?” Eric asked as he casually took her jacket from her hands. Colleen turned without thinking, letting him slip it on her. Only when she felt his knuckles graze her shoulder did her breath hitch in her lungs. She went completely still, her eyes widening, when she felt his hand slide beneath the trapped hair at her nape. He carefully withdrew the strands. His fingers furrowed through the tresses before he smoothed it next to her jacket.
Shivers ran down her spine.
He did not just do that, she told herself, her heart starting to hammer in her ears.
She had to put a stop to it or this thing with Eric was going to go from mutual dislike to sparking flirtation to epic catastrophe in record time.
She turned to face him, giving him an angelic smile.
“We are not similar at a
ll. And I don’t particularly like you.”
She gave him a significant look and started to turn away, prepared to leave him standing in her proverbial dust. It’d serve him right for getting her all annoyed and agitated. He placed a hand on her shoulder, halting her. She glanced back. He leaned down until their faces were hardly six inches apart. This close, she caught his scent. The heady smell of subtle, spicy aftershave, clean skin and an elusive fragrance she could only identify as man filled her nose.
“That’s where you make your mistake, Colleen,” he said so quietly she was sure no one in the bustling restaurant could have heard him but her.
“What?” Colleen mumbled, set off balance by his sudden nearness.
“You do like me. You’re just too stubborn to admit it,” he said, his eyes glinting with humor, that infuriating smirk in place. He took her hand and started to lead her out of the restaurant. Colleen tugged, but he held fast. “Now, let’s go pick out our invitations,” he said, loud enough that Mrs. Pickens from the library and Pete Margaritte, who worked at the sawmill, both regarded them with avid interest as they passed. Colleen had no choice but to hurry after him, blushing profusely the whole time.
She’d agreed to be partners with him in this crime, after all. More fool her. She should have known from the beginning Eric Reyes would be way more than she’d bargained for.
“If you can just bring your invitation list for the engagement party to Brendan’s room later today, I’ll drop our combined list by Scrivener’s this evening,” Colleen told Eric twenty minutes later as they approached the hospital. Eric had led her to a back entrance in the administrative wing.
“We never got to discuss who we were going to invite in regard to our plan,” Eric said as he held open the door for her.
“Plan?”
“Yeah, what we talked about yesterday,” he said as they progressed down the silent corridor. “Operation Postpone Wedding, remember?”