Romancing the M.D.. Maureen Smith
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stories from medical school and comparing notes on the best and worst professors they’d had. When Victor’s cell phone beeped, he turned off the alarm and tossed the phone aside without missing a beat in their conversation. It seemed like they could talk all night and never run out of things to say to each other.
But eventually Tamara felt drowsiness settling over her like a warm blanket. Taking pity on Victor, who’d appeared increasingly uncomfortable in the chair, she invited him to share the bed with her.
It’s just for another hour or so, she told herself as he stretched out alongside her, the heat of his body penetrating hers even though they weren’t touching. Surely it won’t rain all night.
Before sleep claimed her, the last thought that drifted through her mind was that after tonight, things would never be the same between her and Victor.
Chapter 3
Victor was having the most amazing dream.
It had to be a dream because he certainly didn’t remember taking a date home last night, though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up in a woman’s bed with no memory of how he’d gotten there.
But this time was different. The woman in his arms felt like she belonged there.
So she couldn’t be real, his subconscious rationalized. He had to be imagining the gentle rise and fall of plump breasts, the tantalizing thrust of nipples against his chest, the shapely swell of hips beneath his hand, the luscious curve of a feminine thigh draped across his waist. She wasn’t real, yet it seemed wholly natural for him to brush his lips over her forehead and nuzzle her soft, fragrant hair. And when she sighed contentedly and cuddled closer to him, he couldn’t be blamed for the hot rush of arousal that sped to his groin and had him cupping the woman’s lush, round bottom.
When she stiffened without warning, he snapped his eyes open.
And was greeted by the stunned, beautiful face of Tamara St. John.
They stared at each other in stricken silence.
An instant later they sprang apart, scrambling off the bed and facing each other from opposite sides.
“Wh-what happened?” Tamara whispered.
Victor, who could rattle off the most complex medical passages from the Gray’s Anatomy textbook without batting an eye, suddenly found himself tongue-tied. “The storm … It was late … We, uh, fell asleep.”
Their panicked gazes swung toward the window, where they could see the first blush of dawn breaking across the sky.
“When did it stop raining?” Tamara wondered aloud.
“I don’t know.” Victor paused. “I was asleep, like you.”
“Oh, God,” she groaned.
As she scurried around the bed to retrieve her shoes and backpack, Victor couldn’t help thinking how exquisite she looked, with flushed cheeks and her dark, chestnut hair tousled about her face and shoulders.
She glanced up from tying her sneakers, eyeing him frantically. “Don’t just stand there! Get your stuff so we can get out of here!”
Scrubbing an unsteady hand over his face, Victor shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his duffel bag and helmet, then followed Tamara from the room.
When they reached the elevators, she said decisively, “I’ll go down first. We don’t want anyone to see us leaving together at this hour.”
Victor nodded. “Good idea.”
They stood staring up at the electronic panel above the elevator doors, the air between them crackling with tension and bewilderment over this strange new territory they’d just wandered into.
“Tamara—”
“Victor—”
They spoke at the same time, then looked at each other.
At that moment, the elevator arrived.
Clearly relieved, Tamara boarded quickly and stabbed the down button as if she were fleeing the serial killer they’d joked about last night.
But as the metal doors slid closed, their gazes clung almost longingly.
That was the moment Victor realized that they could never go back to the way things used to be.
Thirty minutes later, he was still brooding over Tamara as he strode down a narrow hallway to reach his apartment. Just as he inserted his key in the lock, he heard the sound of another door opening just three doors away.
“Good morning, stranger,” a sultry voice greeted him.
Victor glanced over his shoulder, meeting the sensual gaze of an attractive young woman with straight blond hair, perky breasts and long legs bared by the short skirt she’d donned for work that morning.
He flashed a lazy smile at her. “Hey, Natalia.”
“Hey, yourself,” she purred, lounging in the doorway of her apartment. “Every time I think I’ve got your schedule figured out, you prove me wrong. Did you work a double or triple shift yesterday?”
Victor chuckled. “No such thing as a ‘triple shift.’ Not technically, anyway.”
She ran an eye over him, taking in his dark jeans and boots. “But you’re just getting home from the hospital, right?”
“Right.” He edged toward his door. “And I’m pretty beat, so if it’s all the same to you—”
“How’s your family doing?” Natalia interrupted.
He bit back an impatient sigh. “They’re good.”
“When was the last time you saw everyone?”
“Two weeks ago. But I’m hanging out with them this Sunday on my day off.”
“That’s great.” Natalia sighed wistfully. “I really wish I could go with you, Victor. I adore your family, and I haven’t seen them since … well, since we stopped dating.”
Victor suppressed a pained grimace. He saw no reason to remind her that their “dating” had consisted of one take-out dinner and a few sweaty romps in the sack.
Natalia was the first person he’d met when he moved into the apartment building last year. She’d given him a friendly tour of the Alexandria neighborhood, followed by an even friendlier tour of her body hours later. With her long blond hair, green eyes and tanned curves, she looked like one of many California beach bunnies he’d encountered—and bedded—while at Stanford. So he’d been somewhat surprised to learn that Natalia was from his hometown, though he knew, of course, that Colombians come in all different shades. Upon meeting Natalia, his parents had also been pleased to discover that she was from Bogotá. They’d never made any secret of the fact that they expected Victor and his brothers to settle down with nice, respectable Colombian girls once they’d finished sowing their wild oats.
Natalia had thoroughly charmed Luis and Marcela Aguilar. By the time they left Victor’s apartment that afternoon, they were practically planning his wedding. So they’d taken it especially hard when Victor informed them that he was no longer seeing his sexy neighbor. But he’d had no other choice but to level with them. He couldn’t allow his parents to continue believing that he and Natalia had a future together when he knew better. He didn’t have room in his life for a serious relationship. Completing his residency was priority number one, so he couldn’t afford any distractions whatsoever.
After spending just one night with Tamara St. John, he already knew that she would measure an off-the-chart twenty on the Richter scale of distractions.
“Victor?”
Pulled out of his reverie, he eyed Natalia blankly. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yes,” she replied, looking