Danger Calls. Caridad Pineiro
bedside and, after, helping shift her into another bed so she could return to her room.
It didn’t matter that Melissa had missed lunch. She hadn’t really been hungry, and her fifteen-year-old patient was nervous and needed a little support. Besides, Melissa’s afternoon was light, appointmentwise. She could grab a quick bite later, before rounds. As she reached her office, she heard the phone ringing and raced inside.
“Dr. Danvers.”
“Hello, Doc,” Sebastian said.
Anger rose up in her as she recalled their encounter of the night before. Color her stupid, but she’d been counting on him to help without hesitation. “Have you made up your mind yet?”
“Direct and to the point. Right, Doc?”
Melissa shook her head at her own abruptness and tried to smooth things over. After all, she needed this man’s assistance. “Please don’t call me Doc. It always makes me feel as if I should be balding and hanging out with six dwarves. I’m short, but not that short.”
Sebastian chuckled and she was able to picture his grin in her mind. That was not good. She shouldn’t be remembering that much about this man. “Melissa, then. I wanted to talk about the help you needed. Maybe even share a latte kind of boost.”
“I could use some caffeine,” she said, although what she was more interested in was his answer to her request. “There’s a pretty good coffee shop right near the corner of 60th and York.”
“I can meet you there in about ten minutes. Does that work for you?” Sebastian asked.
“I’ll see you then.”
It was one of those weird summerlike December days in New York City. Midseventies with a bright blue cloudless sky. Melissa made the short walk to the coffee shop, enjoying the weather. It was something she rarely got to do.
As promised, Sebastian was waiting outside. He wore faded black jeans that were snug against his lean legs and a black Buffy the Vampire Slayer shirt, bearing a picture of the blond superhero and assorted monsters. The first time she had met him, he had sported a Star Wars T-shirt.
Today’s shirt, featuring one of her favorite shows, made her smile. Some vampires, Ryder excluded, might find the show politically incorrect toward the undead. Although she had never met another vampire. When she’d questioned Ryder, he’d hinted that others like him existed in Manhattan. He’d also made it clear he preferred to avoid their company. Melissa hadn’t pressed the issue at the time. Someday, however, they might have to revisit that issue.
Sebastian grinned as he caught sight of her. His smile caused an unexpected lurch in the middle of her chest. Melissa suddenly felt like a self-conscious thirteen-year-old instead of a liberated thirtysomething woman. “Hi.”
“Hola,” he replied and made no motion other than to hold his hand out in the direction of the shop. She wasn’t sure why that disappointed her. She’d been expecting a handshake, a hug or one of the other typical greetings people who knew one another shared.
But then again, she and Sebastian didn’t really know each other at all.
Inside the coffee shop was fairly quiet as the afternoon lunch rush was over and the midafternoon coffee break surge had yet to start. It took only a minute for them to place their orders.
“You look wiped,” Sebastian said. “Why don’t you grab a seat? I’ll bring our coffees over when they’re ready.”
Melissa nodded and walked to the front of the shop, where there was a bench seat and table near a window facing York Avenue.
While waiting for their orders, Sebastian looked her way. She smiled nervously, then glanced down at her outfit, suddenly wishing she had changed. The white lab jacket and hospital scrubs were big on her petite physique, giving her a too-youthful appearance. Of course, that might not be such a bad thing considering Sebastian was several years younger than her—in his late twenties at the most. Also, someone had told her once that the pale blue color of the scrubs made her eyes look a crystalline blue. She wondered if Sebastian would notice, then forced such thoughts from her mind.
The only thing between them was Sebastian’s help with the journals. Nothing else. Certainly nothing like what Sebastian had done with her and to her during their first meeting. A little bit of heat flared to life at the recollection of that night. She fanned her hand before her face to cool it.
A second later, he walked over with their lattes and she fumbled a bit as she took the large cup from him. “Thanks.”
When she looked up into his eyes, she noted amusement. She was about to ask him what was funny, when he said, “You’re not used to people caring for you, are you?”
It was unsettling that he could be so right. “Are you always this perceptive?” she challenged, trying to erect some kind of barrier to his insight. She didn’t like being so transparent. Poker face, she reminded herself.
Sebastian only smiled and motioned to the bench with the hand that held his coffee. “May I join you there?”
Melissa realized for the first time that there was very little room beside her. Unfortunately, there was also no chair nearby. To refuse him would seem rude. She shifted to the edge nearest the window and inclined her head in invitation.
When he eased down beside her, his broad shoulder brushed against hers. His denim-covered legs were not as close, but still too near. She was finding it hard to ignore him. He was attractive, with his gleaming dark hair and eyes accented by well-defined cheekbones. His skin had the kind of tanned color that didn’t fade in the winter. And his lips…
Don’t think about those lips, she warned herself and forced her thoughts to something else.
Like the fact that he wasn’t tall. Barely five foot ten, but his leanly muscled body gave the sense of greater height. His sculpted arms were bared by his short-sleeved T-shirt. She had tried to put his physical strength out of her mind, but now, with him nearly on top of her, it was hard not to appreciate how compellingly masculine he was. Even harder to just sit here beside him and stare. She grabbed her cup with two hands and shimmied closer to the edge of the bench. He smirked wryly.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said.
“I guess I invaded your space, huh? Sorry. I’m Cuban. We’re physical with…” He paused, as if searching for the right words. Finally he said, “Friends and family.”
“Well, have MCI take me off your list,” she replied sharply, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was harsh.”
Sebastian gave a careless shrug, which stretched the fabric of his shirt across the width of his shoulders. He took a sip of his latte. “But you’re right. We’re not family…or friends. Still, you want my help.”
She was grateful he was enough of a gentleman not to mention their night together. Things were uncomfortable enough. She examined his face but couldn’t read his mood like she had the other night. “We’re not friends yet,” she said, realizing how weird it was that she had known this man intimately, but didn’t really have a clue about him.
“There’s time for you to make my list,” he said. “What about you and Ryder? Have you been friends for long?”
She stared at her coffee and avoided his gaze. “Ryder’s more than a friend. He’s all the family I have.”
“I guess you’ve known him a long time?”
“All my life.”
Motioning with his hand, Sebastian asked, “All your life as in—”
“Forever.” Melissa took another sip of her latte.
Sebastian cocked his head, seemingly perplexed. “Didn’t you notice that, well, Ryder didn’t get any older-looking?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Melissa glanced at him. “No more than I wonder about Dick Clark