Holding Out for Doctor Perfect. Teresa Southwick
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was a hanging offense and he really did need her help to convince the powers that be at Mercy Medical Center that what he wanted was a good idea. About ten minutes later, through a break in the airport crowd, he spotted her walking toward him. This time he missed seeing the red-hot soles of her sky-high shoes. But the front view made up for it. Normally he liked a woman’s hair long, falling past her shoulders, because running his fingers through it was about the most erotic thing in the world.
But Avery was different. The pixie haircut suited her delicate features and highlighted the slightly tilted shape of her big eyes. And sexy? He could imagine himself cupping that small face in his hands while kissing her until she begged for more. As far as the sexy scale went, that visual buried the needle in the hot zone.
“Hi.” She stood in front of him and glanced at the flight information displayed at their gate. “Looks like our plane is here. People are getting off.”
Her tone said she’d rather they stay on and go somewhere else so she wouldn’t have to.
Spencer stood and looked down at her. “Flying is absolutely the safest way to travel.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“But you don’t believe it.” That wasn’t a question.
“I much prefer my feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much.”
“Imagine that,” he said. “A controller who’s a control freak.”
“Not with everything.”
Uh-huh, he thought. “Just money and transportation.”
“Possibly a few other things.”
“Well, I appreciate that you stepped out of your comfort zone to come along,” he said.
“Like I had a choice.”
“You did.”
She shook her head. “When my boss got involved there really weren’t a lot of options. Saying no without a better excuse than aversion to being in a flimsy long white tube that climbs to over thirty thousand feet and hurtles through the sky at over five hundred miles an hour could be a career ender.”
“There’s my brave little soldier,” he said.
When she met his gaze, her expression was wry. “If that’s the bedside manner your patients get, you should know it could use work.”
“I can do better.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Is that a threat?”
“No. A promise.”
Before she could question that further, a voice came over the loudspeaker and said that they were ready to start boarding the flight to Dallas. Anyone needing assistance or flying with small children should step forward. A few minutes later first class passengers were called.
“That’s us,” he said.
She grabbed the handle of her rolling carry-on and fell into step with him. “How did you pull that off? Getting the hospital to cough up a more expensive ticket.”
“I like more leg room. I can afford it. I paid the difference between first class and coach.”
“Then I’ll wait until they announce boarding for the peasants,” she said.
“Not necessary. We’re sitting together.”
“But I didn’t pay—”
“Don’t worry about it. All taken care of.” He carried his briefcase in one hand, then curved his other around her arm and urged her to the opening where the Jetway waited. The airline employee took and scanned their boarding passes and wished them a good flight.
“Fat chance,” she mumbled.
Their seats were in the third row—hers by the window, his on the aisle. He set his briefcase down, then took her bag and stashed it in the overhead bin.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem.”
He stepped back so she could precede him into the row, where she sat and immediately secured her lap belt. He slid into the seat beside her and watched her face as all the color disappeared. Anxiety turned her eyes darker blue and her leg moved as her heel tapped a nervous staccato. He wanted to put his fingers on her knee. Partly because he just wanted very much to touch her there, but mostly to soothe the nerves. He was fine with breaching the line between personal and professional to distract her, but was ninety-nine point nine percent sure Avery would have a problem with it.
“So, you’re pretty nervous.”
“What gave me away?” At least she was trying to joke.
“Mostly that woodpecker imitation you’re doing with the heel of your shoe.”
Her leg stopped. “Now you know I didn’t lie. Love the airport, don’t like getting on a plane. I hate flying and officially, I hate you for making me do it.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“You’re going without me?” she asked hopefully.
“No. But I’ll let you ask me anything you want.”
“Professional?”
“Or personal. Nothing is off-limits.”
A gleam stole into her eyes. “That could be more dangerous than a cruising altitude of thirty-nine thousand feet.”
“Maybe.” He rested his elbows on the arms of the seats then linked his fingers. “So, hit me.”
The bustle of passengers boarding had subsided and the flight attendants secured the cabin, then closed the door to the Jetway. As the plane started to move slowly backward, the aircraft safety precautions were reviewed.
Avery gripped the armrests and her knuckles turned as white as her face. When he took her left hand and held it, his only motivation was to make her feel safe. He should feel guilty about taking advantage of the opportunity to touch her, but he couldn’t manage it.
“I’m serious, Tinker Bell. Ask me anything.”
She looked at him and said, “Okay. Did you decide to become a doctor to help people?”
“Of course not. I did it for the women and sex,” he answered without missing a beat.
She laughed as he’d hoped. “So you didn’t choose the profession because all arrogant jerks become doctors?”
“I didn’t really have a choice.”
“How so?” She looked interested instead of anxious.
“My parents are the walking, talking, breathing definition of high achievers. In their eyes I fall short on an annoyingly regular basis.”
“You’re joking.”
“Swear.” He held up his hand just as the pilot announced they’d been cleared for takeoff.
“But you’re a famous and in-demand gifted cardiothoracic surgeon.”
“Tell me about it.” He felt the plane make a turn, then pick up speed.
“What the heck could your mother or father possibly do that’s more prestigious than that?”
“Dad is a Nobel Prize winning economist. Mom is a biomedical engineer whose work has revolutionized diagnostic equipment that helps people all over the world. My younger sister, Becky, is a rocket scientist and works for NASA.”
“Good grief.” Her voice raised to be heard over the whine and noise of the jet engines.
“Actually, in the Stone family, I’m something of a slacker. Only my brother, Adam, takes more heat than me about his career.”
“What does he do?”
“Doctor,” Spencer