Holding Out for Doctor Perfect. Teresa Southwick
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did you tell them we’re here now?”
“Yes. And, we’ve got a problem.”
“Oh, good. Another one.”
“There’s a convention in town and no rooms available,” she informed him.
“Great.” He rested his hands on lean hips.
“We need to find another hotel. Maybe we can ask the car rental agent for a recommendation. I can make some calls and find rooms.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve got a better idea.”
“Better than a room?” She didn’t like the sound of that. “I hope you’re not planning to pitch a tent somewhere. If so, you should know that I’ve become pretty attached to things like beds, running water and that lovely little thing called electricity.”
“Not to worry.”
A gleam stole into his eyes and his mouth curved into a mischievous smile that snarled her senses and stole her breath. That reaction gave her a really bad feeling about his better idea.
“Worrying is what I do best,” she said.
“The place I have in mind has beds, indoor plumbing and juice for your blow dryer.”
“What do you have in mind?” she asked warily.
“My family will put us up.”
His parents? The people who set such a high bar that being a doctor wasn’t good enough?
“I couldn’t possibly impose on them,” she said quickly. “But you go ahead. I’ll find a room somewhere. It will be fine.”
“You won’t be imposing. They’d love it.”
“You can’t just drop in and bring a friend.” A Nobel Prize winning economist and biomedical engineer didn’t sound like your average go-with-the-flow couple. “It’s too much trouble. They’d have to make room—”
“My parents’ house is like Buckingham Palace.”
“Really?” The comparison to royalty did nothing to anesthetize her nerves.
“Not quite the palace, but it’s got more square footage than they know what do with.”
“Spencer, I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Live dangerously.”
“That’s not my style.” Not anymore. The one time she’d done that her life had fallen apart.
“Then your style needs to loosen up.”
“I like my style just fine, thank you very much. Fending for myself isn’t a problem. We don’t have to be joined at the hip. I’ve got your number.”
And how. This was probably a blessing in disguise. Alternative housing would give her even more distance and that would be a good thing after he’d been so nice to her on the plane.
“Really, you go see your family,” she urged him.
“Not without you. Come on.” He curved his fingers around her upper arm and tugged her along.
Her head was spinning. That was the only reason she didn’t put up more protest. So, not only was she going to meet the overachievers, she’d be staying with them.
Wouldn’t that be fun?
About as much as a root canal without pain meds.
Spencer loved his folks, but visits were always a challenge. He was a nationally respected cardiothoracic surgeon, for God’s sake, but all it took was walking through the front door of their house and he instantly became the boy he’d once been, always trying to prove himself. The child who worked so hard to be as good as they were and more. The kid who brought home flawless report cards and heard nothing unless one was less than perfect. Silent disappointment was the worst.
He pulled the rented Mercedes to a stop in front of the impressive brick house. This suburb of Dallas was home to a former president, chief executives of global companies worth billions, and Catherine and William Stone.
Without saying a word, Avery gaped at the sprawling, red brick structure with a portico supported by four white columns. The estate was set back from the street by a large, perfectly landscaped yard. When she looked back at him he saw that her jaw dropped and her mouth was open but no words came out.
“It’s not often you’re speechless.” He rested his wrist on the steering wheel of the sporty car.
“It’s not often a girl like me gets to see a house like this.” She glanced at him, then turned back and stared some more. “I’m waiting for the riffraff police to show up and escort me back to the poor side of town.”
“There’s the bright, shiny optimist I’ve come to know.”
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