Page 8 of Doctor Daddy Dilemma
“Uh, Dr. Hartman, it’s Charlie Martinez from the Register. I was calling in hopes we could get something on the schedule for another interview.” I was never intimidated by phone calls or setting up interviews, not even when I had the chance to interview one of the Miami Dolphins football players. But this made my stomach squeamish. Why? I had no clue other than I had spent three of the last four nights fantasizing about that man’s hands on my boobs while I masturbated.
“Didn’t I tell you my work time was off-limits? I’m between patients right now, otherwise you’d have been ignored.” His short, grumpy retort didn’t dissuade me.
“I’m so glad I caught you then. When can we meet?” He couldn’t push me around with hostility if I didn’t let him. I resolved to be cheerful and optimistic even when he snapped again.
“Ridiculous!”
“When can I see you again?” I asked, but as the words came out, I realized it was all wrong. It sounded like I was asking him on a date, not lining up an interview. I bit my lip.
There was a pause on his end of the line while I stewed in my own humiliation. Sometimes I was the most socially awkward person I’d ever met, and other times I was the most put-together and professional woman on the planet. There was never an in-between with me either. I hated that about myself, but still, the smile remained on my face.
“Fine,” he grunted, albeit a little less annoyed. “Miami Yacht Club, pier twelve. I’ll have someone waiting to show you to my boat. “Wear something sexy. I’ll send the details for Friday night.”
I didn’t even get to respond. He hung up on me the way Mr. James had earlier this morning and I didn’t even care. Had he just asked me to “wear something sexy”? Sexy outfits were not for interviews; they were for dates. Did he assume this was a date?
Blood rushed to my cheeks and my hand trembled as I laid my phone down on my desk and stared at it. I had a stupid smile on my face too, which only made my giddiness more apparent when Amy ducked into my cubicle.
“What’s the goofy grin about?” she asked as she stood there hunched over me, looking at my phone.
“I…uh… I got the next interview set up with Hartman.” As flustered as I was, I managed to stifle the smile but the blush only deepened. “He asked me to wear something sexy.”
“Oh, girl!” she squealed and then she snickered. “Damn to be single again and in the dating world. With eligible bachelors like him swimming that shark-infested water, I’d eat that up.” Amy swatted at me playfully and I covered my face.
She thought the same thing I did. Dr. Hartman was hitting on me. This was more than an interview to him. But did I really want to allow his advances? Given that he was a player of ill repute, wouldn’t that just tarnish my own reputation to be seen with him? On a yacht of all places?
But I couldn’t get the idea of him and me having sex out of my head, especially after such a “playful” week at home. My God, I was setting myself up for real heartbreak and I knew it. But I couldn’t resist. I’d never have a chance to score with a guy like him ever again. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and my body told me to take it.
I just had to protect my heart.
6
LEX
My personal assistant Lela escorted Charlie onto my yacht with her quick, short strides, heels clicking on the ramp and the deck where my associates and former patients gathered. I thought it would be a little less intimidating to bring her along on our evening cruise of the bay, and a few drinks would loosen her up.
I passed by the bar where Hugo served drinks on the house, compliments of yours truly, so that every one of my guests could have a good evening, and I picked up two mojitos. The frosted stemware chilled my fingers, but my body was on fire as soon as I saw her.
Charlie wore a tight-fitting black dress that hugged every one of her curves, and in such a classy way I wanted to peel it off of her and see those curves bare. It dipped in the front, providing a fantastic view of her perfect tits—which I’d had the pleasure of examining up close and personal. And the way it left very little to the imagination made my cock stir. She was a sight to behold, and I wanted to linger at a distance and behold her, but Lela waltzed her right up to me.
“Dr. Hartman, Ms. Martinez,” Lela said, bowing at the shoulder before backing away. She’d exit the yacht and head home, and our little soiree would continue on into the wee hours of the night.
Charlie looked nervous, chewing that lower lip in anxious fashion as she looked around at the others. It was nice to see that I wasn’t her sole focus. I wasn’t fond of groupies who thought begging for my attention alone would gain them some sort of favor with me. Ultimately, I wanted a woman who was her own entity, someone who could stand beside my persona and be comfortable in her own right, not shadowed by me and certainly not intimidated by me either.
“Dr. Hartman, these are celebrities,” she hissed, stepping closer to me than I expected. I didn’t mind one bit. It gave the term “bird’s eye view” new meaning to me. God, I wanted to touch her body.
“Yes, they are,” I told her, sliding the drink into her hand. “And they are all here to have a good evening. Would you like me to introduce you?”
Charlie took the mojito and downed it in one gulp, and finally her eyes met mine. Dazzling brown pools that held a depth of intelligence and intrigue I found fascinating. She searched my expression as I took her empty glass and replaced it with my full one. I didn’t need the alcohol. The people on this boat weren’t exactly friends to me—I never let anyone that close—but they were as close as I’d get. We had played golf, gone boating, had dinners, and most of all, I’d seen each and every one of them naked—except for their partners. I was completely at ease with them.
“Uh… I thought this was an interview.” She licked her lower lip as she took the second mojito from my hand nervously.
“And you wore that?” I asked her, sliding my hand into the small of her back and guiding her a bit forcefully toward the cluster of folks by the bow. I chuckled as we walked and she sipped the second drink. She seemed to resist my movements, though I was only trying to show her how comfortable I was. “You look nice by the way.”
“They’re so famous, Dr. Hartm?—”
“Lex, please. If you want me to call you Charlie, then you call me Lex. And what is this exposé you want to write about me anyway? You said you were going to make me seem like a normal person. The ‘man behind the mask’ right? Well, these are normal people too. Like you and me.” I smiled as I pressed a little more firmly in her back to offset the way she leaned away. “Trust me.”
One by one I introduced her to the gang, ex-footballers, talk show hosts, actresses. They all seemed pleased to meet her and chatted openly about their weeks of work. Charlie was tense the whole time, and she nudged my hand away more than once, but I quickly replaced it in the small of her back where I wanted it. I felt slightly possessive over her when Jules Thomas made eyes at her. Though Charlie didn’t even seem to notice it. The evening was off to a great start when Myra Lewis—daytime television star—happened upon the topic of my practice.