His chest and his head were inflating by the second, and he smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. His entire life, he’d consistently been praised and his ego padded with compliments—both on and off the field—by his professors, coaches, parents, friends, other players, and the media. But no one made him feel the way she did.
“Since you’re such a gentleman, would you mind getting me a hazelnut latte with one raw sugar and soy milk?” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”
“Sure. No problem. Do you want anything else?” He scanned the display above the counter. “A sandwich or a piece of cake?”
“Actually, I’d love a grilled chicken salad.” She pulled a credit card out of her handbag and tried to give it to him. “Get yourself whatever you want.”
He couldn’t believe she was trying to pay. “Are you serious? I don’t want that. I got it.”
“No.” She pushed the card toward him. “I know you probably think it’s not right, but I want to. Plus, I can write it off as a business expense.”
“I’m a pro football player. You’re not paying for anything. Put your card away.”
She pursed her lips, challenging him coyly. “I’m a doctor. But, fine, since I don’t want to compare bank accounts. Get me a fruit cup too, Mr. Moneybags.”
“Wow. You’re really blowing up my budget,” he joked.
“You sure you don’t need my card?”
“Go. I got it.”
He went to the counter and ordered coffees for the both of them, the salad and fruit cup Amber requested, plus a turkey club for himself. As an afterthought, he added several mini cupcakes. He chose the sweets because he remembered someone brought homemade cookies into the physical therapy office one day, and, every so often, Amber would steal one from the reception desk where they were displayed.
The girl behind the counter set two coffee cups and a small plate of mini cupcakes on a tray and handed it to Robert. “Your order will be ready in a few minutes. Someone will bring them to your table.”
“Thanks.” He found a table that offered some privacy, set the coffee and cupcakes down, and discarded the tray. As he sipped his coffee, Amber slipped into the seat across from him. He tried to school the expression on his face, but there was no hiding the way he was beaming at her.
Her glasses were gone, and it made her eyes shine like two mesmerizing pools of lilac under long black lashes. Without the glasses, all her features were amplified. Her freshly applied nude gloss enhanced the alluring shape of her lips and made them shiny and voluptuous. Her skin glowed, smooth and supple. Her hair had been freed from its constraining ponytail and cascaded down her back like spun silk. He’d never seen it down in the light before. It had always been pulled back, away from her face, which hid its true color. The night he met her in the bar it had been too dark to see how light her hair was. It didn’t look bleached or processed. There were no dark roots. No highlights or lowlights. It was one beautiful shade of pale blonde.
She went into the restroom like Clark Kent and came out like Superman.
“What’s wrong?” She wiped at the edge of her bottom lip, as if worried her gloss was smeared.
“Nothing’s wrong. You look so beautiful.”
Her cheeks blushed pale pink. “Are you purposely laying on the charm, or does it just come naturally?”
“No. I’m serious. You’re stunning.” It was distracting, and he understood more fully about why she felt the need to tone down her appearance at work.
The corners of her mouth curled while she blinked, closing her eyes longer the necessary. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“I’m sorry.” He covered her hand with his. “I didn’t mean to.”
She stared at his hand, and her smile widened before she lifted her eyes to meet his.
The server interrupted them with their order, and they both exhaled at the same time.
Robert’s breath was from disappointment, but Amber’s seemed more like relief.
“Why are you fighting it?” he asked as soon as the server left the table.
“Fighting what?”
“The attraction between us. I know you feel it. I know it’s there. It didn’t go away.”
“You’re my patient. I told you from the beginning that I don’t get involved with my patients.”
“I’m not your patient anymore.”
