I laugh to myself at how ridiculous my thoughts have gotten.
Only a few days ago, the idea of shaving everything “just in case” would’ve led me to ask, In case of what?
I’m acutely aware of my own heartbeat as well as the sensitive surface of my skin. My nipples are tight, and between my legs . . .
“Ugh,” I tell my reflection in the mirror. “This is going to be a long freaking day.”
I receive a text from Maria. Hope your guy is ready for this. There’s a line out the door.
He’s ready and willing. See you soon.
I gather my things and am out the door with time to spare so I won’t be late to meet him. Traffic is, as always, a beast. It probably seems worse to me today because it’s standing between me and seeing him, and I’m dying to see him.
“This is bad.” Maybe if I say it out loud, I can get a handle on this situation before it spins any further out of control. If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I lost control, it would be last night on Miami Beach when I made out with the man my boss assigned me to work with.
My boss. Shit! I forgot to report to Mr. Augustino last night. I summon Siri and tell her to call the hospital. When I reach the switchboard, I ask for the president’s office.
“Office of the president, Mona speaking.”
“Mona, hi, it’s Carmen.”
“Hello there! How’re you doing?”
“Doing well.”
“I love Dr. Northrup’s Instagram account. Have you seen how many followers he already has? The photos of him playing dominoes were so perfect. He’s—”
“Mona!”
“Oh, so sorry. What can I do for you, hon?”
“Could I please speak to Mr. Augustino?”
“Of course. Just a moment.”
While I wait on hold and listen to the light rock music playing in the background, I dart through the traffic that stands between me and the source of my obsession. And yes, that’s what he’s become. What other word should I use to describe the man who occupies ninety-eight percent of my thoughts forty-eight hours after I first saw him?
I’ve about given up on Mona and Mr. Augustino when he comes on the line. “Carmen, good to hear from you. I expected an email from you this morning.”
“I know, that’s why I’m calling. I got caught up in making plans for today and forgot to send the email. I’m so sorry, but that’s why I’m calling now.” I cringe as the story rolls off my tongue with glib exaggerations. I’m headed straight to hell. “I figured I’d call you with my report, if that’s all right.”
“Sure, what’ve you got?”
I tell him about the Instagram account, about Jason playing dominoes with the men in Little Havana, eating at Giordino’s and touring Miami Beach. “Today, he’s seeing patients at the Our Lady of Charity free clinic in Little Havana, and according to my contact there, people are already waiting in line for the chance to see him. We’ve secured permission from the clinic to take photos with any patients who agree to be photographed, and I’ll make sure they sign releases.”
“This is excellent, Carmen. Very well done.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’ve had some promising conversations with various board members who’d expressed concerns, and I’ll be sure to make them aware of the Instagram account as well as Dr. Northrup’s work at the clinic.”
“That would be excellent.”
“Keep up the good work.”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll be sure to get the written report for today to you tonight.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing how it goes. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
I end the call feeling optimistic after hearing Mr. Augustino has had some positive conversations with board members. The tide seems to be turning in Jason’s favor, and I can only hope that his day at the clinic will help to seal the deal.
I seem to have a vested interest in keeping him in Miami.
When I pull into the parking lot, he’s leaning against Priscilla, scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing the Wayfarer sunglasses, a pressed button-down shirt that covers that sinfully sexy chest I got a look at last night and khaki pants. It’s quite possible I’m drooling as I stare at him before he realizes I’ve arrived.
A horn sounds behind me, snapping me out of my stare-fest and catching his attention.
He smiles at me, and I die. I’m done. I can’t think or function.
Until that damned driver in the car behind me lays on the horn again.
Jason cracks up laughing as I inch forward into a parking space. Well, that was rather mortifying. I’m flustered as I gather my things, and then my door opens and he’s there, squatting next to me, still smiling.
“I’d hate to have to bail you out, again.”
“But you would, wouldn’t you?”
Nodding, he leans in, clearly intending to kiss me. “Every time.”
I meet him halfway, our lips connecting with urgency that takes us right back to where we left off yesterday.
His hand encircles my neck, I grasp his shirt, and his tongue brushes against mine, making me moan from the power of the desire that touches every part of me. He smells so good. So, so good. Like soap and sporty cologne and heaven.
“Christ have mercy,” he mutters when we come up for air. “I want to take you inside and spend the whole day feasting on you.”
I try to say something, but what comes out sounds like “ungwh.”
“Yes, my thoughts exactly.”
“You’ve scrambled my brain.”
“Back atcha, babe.”
I use my thumb to wipe my lipstick off his mouth. “Maria says there’s a line out the door at the clinic.”
His tongue touches my thumb, and I gasp from the need that makes me want to forget all about the clinic, my job, his job, the hospital board. All of it. I just want to say eff it and follow him inside to his room to start a whole new scandal.
“There’s good news and bad news,” I tell him.
He pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. “Hmm?”
I melt. I’m a puddle of want and need so sharp it clouds my better judgment and nearly makes me forget everything that isn’t his lips on my neck. “The good news is I worried if it would be weird or awkward between us today.”
“Not even kinda weird or awkward. So what’s the bad news?”
“We need to be somewhere.”
“That’s very bad news, indeed. Might be the worst news I’ve ever heard.”
“You already knew this.”
“True, but I hadn’t kissed you yet today, and now that I have . . .”
“What?” Have I ever been as breathless as I get around him? No, never.
“I’m going to need some time to settle down before we go anywhere.”
I tell myself not to look, but I’m not listening to myself when it comes to him. I look. I stare. I want.
“Stop. That’s not helping.”
My phone rings, and I take the call from a local number I don’t recognize. “Carmen Giordino.”
“Hey, this is Desiree Rivera with NBC 6.”
I give Jason, who’s still in a crouch next to my car, a big-eyed look and put the phone on speaker so he can hear, too. “Hi, Desiree. Thanks so much for calling.”