“Tell me about you, Dr. Rand,” I said, setting my drink down, smelling the rolls.
“Cal,” he made sure to note again.
“Cal.”
“Better.” He nodded and took a sip of his whiskey. “Grew up on the Main Line of Philly. Played golf for Penn, then hung up my clubs and went to med school near here. Never left.”
“That’s it? I looked at your bio,” I teased, allowing the whiskey to loosen my mood.
“You did?”
“Sure, you’re taking care of my niece or nephew.”
He broke out into a smile. “Is that what you’re going to hide behind?”
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“In that case, yes, I’m qualified to take care of Laura and the baby. Overqualified, but your brother called and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I accepted. My specialty is high-risk pregnancies where the mother’s health is in jeopardy. Scar tissue, previous ectopic pregnancies, maternal age. I won’t bore you with all that…”
“My brother is obsessed with Jamie having everything she wants.”
“I can’t say much, you know,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yeah, confidentiality. I’ll say it—my brother thinks this is high-risk because it’s his sperm and Jamie’s egg. But the egg has been genetically tested and examined out the wazoo, and you and I both know the baby is fine.”
He nodded.
“Well, I’m glad they have someone in charge who graduated top of his medical school class.”
“I’m going to eat a roll now,” he mumbled, and I was pretty sure I detected a blush.
“Oh, so you don’t enjoy the fandom? Something we have in common.”
He ripped off a piece of roll and popped it in his mouth, feigning not being able to talk. I found myself loving our easy banter. I hadn’t felt this free in a while.
The server swung by with a first course, stating the chef prepared us a prix fixe dinner, surprising Cal.
“Is that okay with you? I guess I should have checked first, but we thought this best when Frank called to get the table.”
He shrugged. “It’s all fine with me.”
“I have some dietary restrictions and limitations, so it’s easiest for them to procure a list and prep accordingly.”
“Like I said, A-OK. Seriously.” An air of gentleness wafted from him, and I could tell he didn’t care. “I want you to feel comfortable,” he reiterated, which was a gesture I wasn’t accustomed to.
My hand couldn’t be held back, and I reached over and finally brushed the errant hair off his forehead.
“Is your Frank going to come sack me if I return the favor?” A small wink in his left eye, a few crow’s feet lingering at the corner, and it was the sexiest thing I’d seen in a long while.
It all felt too real and surreal. A combination I wasn’t used to. I giggled like a schoolgirl—also something I hadn’t done since I was actually that age. “No. Only if I signal,” I joked.
He brought his hand to my cheek. This time it was his turn to swish a fine hair away while his soup cooled and my salad sat untouched.
“Beautiful.” His word was a breath of fresh air on my skin.
Chills ran my spine and I wanted him to do it again.
Instead, he said, “Now tell me how you became a star and why no one has snatched you up yet.”
