Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss. Tina Beckett
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He tossed his serviette on the table. “Your wingman.” He said it as if sounding it out. “I like it. I think that would work.”
Oh, no, she had no intention of doing anything like what Dean was proposing. But the thought of letting the man see how much it bothered her …
What if she made it look as if she were going along with it? That way, even if she wiggled her way out of the dates, she could still tell her sister she was going out. Maybe it would even ease some of the bad feelings between them.
A thought came to her. What if Dean picked up a woman while she was there? The last thing she wanted was to see him walk out of that pub with someone. She had no idea why, but she didn’t. “So let’s say I agree to chat up three men—” she was careful not to actually say she would go on to have sex with these men “—then you have to do something as well. How about, you have to promise to leave the pub alone. Go without. See how the other side lives.”
“So basically you would be the only one having fun?”
“Exactly. Think you can handle it?”
Dean leaned forward, one brow raised at the challenge. “Sweetheart, you’ve got yourself a bet.”
DEAN HAD NO idea why he’d goaded Jess into that ridiculous bet. They’d gone to the pub twice so far and she’d easily found herself a partner both nights, slipping out of the place within an hour.
He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Or why he’d been so adamant about going with her. Maybe because it bothered him that she compared herself to her sister. And she did. He heard it in her words, saw it in the uncertain way her fingers twisted together when she talked about her.
And his own part of the bet?
Laughable, because she seemed to think he picked up a different woman every night.
It would be kind of hard to do his job if he spent all his nights having wild sex. Although he could think of one woman he might be tempted to make that sacrifice for.
Not that he would.
Especially since he’d promised that very woman that he would have no sex. At all. At least not for the next several nights.
“Dr. Edwards? Is everything all right?”
Sitting in a rocking chair in the corner and holding a tiny baby to his shoulder, he realized he’d zoned out for a few seconds. “Fine. I’m just getting ready to put her back.”
His job didn’t necessarily include cuddling his charges, but there was something about this one. Born to a drug-addicted mum, the little boy was off to a rocky start. But at least the child-welfare people had stepped in and insisted the mother clean up her act before allowing her anywhere near the child.
That was more than he had gotten when he was young. Then again, it was his father who’d had the addiction problem, not his mother.
He rubbed a few more gentle circles across the newborn’s back. At least the baby had quieted down. When pregnant women took drugs, there were two victims. The baby’s mother … and her child, who was now suffering through withdrawals—through no fault of his own.
Standing to his feet, he gave the nurse a quick smile before tucking the baby back into his cot. “Feel free to page me if this happens again.”
She nodded, smiling back.
Young and attractive with curly brown hair and sparkling eyes, Deidre had made it a point to call him back whenever she had a particularly difficult case. He wondered if that was for the baby’s benefit or hers. It didn’t matter. He’d decided a long time ago it was better to leave his personal life at home and his professional life at the hospital. It was just better that way.
“You have such a way with them.”
Did he? It seemed that anyone who offered these little guys a bit of love and affection would get the same response. And maybe that stemmed back to his childhood as well. He didn’t want any of them to feel as alone as he’d once felt. And this particular baby had quieted down almost as soon as he’d settled into the rocker with him.
“I think it’s just the body contact.”
She raised her brows and went over to look at the now sleeping infant. “No, I think you just have the magic touch.”
Not so magic.
He glanced at his watch, his jaw tightening. Tonight was the last night of his and Jess’s bet, and suddenly the last thing he wanted to do was watch her walk out of that pub with yet another man. He’d made her ring him at home as soon as she arrived, and again after the man left her house, so that he would know she was safe.
Another thing he was nonplussed about. Of course she was safe. Jess was a grown woman and between the two of them they’d picked out the meekest, mildest-looking men they could.
Okay, that was probably all him, because Jess had talked to a couple of attractive muscular-looking chaps, but they’d made him uneasy.
Or was it just that he couldn’t stand the idea of her spending the night with someone she might actually decide to go out with more than once.
Nope. That wasn’t it at all. And just to prove it, tonight, he would let Jess pick out whoever she wanted.
And he wouldn’t do a thing to stop her.
Having a wingman was the pits.
On their third and final outing, Jess was glad it was their last. Her days were spent with her niece, and her nights … well, her nights were Dean’s. But not in the traditional sense.
As much as she wanted to skip out of the pub and go home alone, Dean was always there. Always checking out the patrons. And, hell, if he didn’t always steer her toward men that looked as if they were laced tighter than a corset. It was never the good-looking ladies’ man, or anyone who was like Dean himself. No. In fact, whenever one of those types hit on her, somehow Dean was always there with a glare or a sharp word.
Why did he even care? Wasn’t this all about the bet—about seeing what it was like to have a few nights of casual sex? That was what it had started out as.
Instead, Dean brooded. Off in the corner, he would nurse a glass of Scotch and watch her sit awkwardly at the bar. If he approved of whoever offered to buy her a drink he stayed put, if he didn’t … well, if he didn’t, he appeared next to her like an avenging angel and chased the man off.
So for the last two date nights—Jess had faked it. She pretended to leave with one of the pre-approved men and then bolted, feigning a headache or stomach virus. Maybe it was fortunate that the men were as nervous and unsure as she was, because it meant she went home alone.
Her one consolation was that Dean left by himself as well. At least, if he was keeping to his side of the bargain. From his grouchy demeanor at the hospital over the last couple of days, she’d say he really had slept alone.
Why that mattered, she had no idea.
She screwed up her courage for one last run, and went over to the bar, asking for a dark bitter ale—which she hated. Her friend Amy promised Jess would eventually get used to the stuff if she drank it often enough. Right now, she just wasn’t seeing it. But it was cheap and Amy swore men were impressed by a woman who drank dark ale. Hmm. Her friend was single and pregnant, so while it might attract them, that was evidently all it did. Which might work in Jess’s favor, actually.
She should probably give Amy a call and make sure everything was going okay.
Thank God this was the last night. Even Abbie and her parents had seemed surprised when she told them she had plans again this evening.
“Another date?” The hope in her mum’s voice would have been comical had it