The MD's Mistress / The Money Man's Seduction. Leslie LaFoy
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the house.
Becca was simmering. Who in the world assigned Seth Andrews, boy-wonder surgeon, to take care of her? She was fully capable of taking care of herself, thank you.
Carefully setting the sandwiches on the plates, she tried to calm her rising ire, afraid if she didn’t she might explode all over the place, or him.
“Do you want a glass of water?” Becca avoided looking at him by turning to go to the cabinet where the glasses were kept.
“Yes, please.” There was a trace of hidden laughter in his tone.
“Why are you here anyway?”
“Why else—to check on you.”
The simmer was quickly turning into flaring temper. “Have a seat,” she said with false calm. Back in Philadelphia, she thought, rather nastily.
Lunch was hardly a pleasant chatty occasion. In fact it was eaten in absolute silence.
Out of pure contrariness, not thirst, Becca drank two cups of the fresh coffee, while simply nibbling at both her salad and sandwich.
Naturally, Seth serenely ignored her while eating every bit of his lunch…not to mention the half of sandwich she left on her plate.
To Becca’s further annoyance, he monitored every swallow of coffee she took.
“You know,” he said, too casually, “instead of gulping caffeine, you should be resting.”
Skirting the edge of serious anger, Becca glanced at him balefully. “Is that a professional or merely personal opinion, Dr. Andrews?”
He appeared unfazed by both her expression and sour tone of voice. “Both.”
“Well, you can take both opinions and jam—”
“Careful now, Rebecca,” he cautioned. “Let’s not get down and dirty here.”
Throwing her hands into the air, rather than her fist at his head, Becca shoved back her chair, stood and began clearing the table. “I don’t want to listen to you issuing orders or suggestions.” Carrying the dishes, she stopped halfway between the table and the sink to turn and face him. “You are not my boss here.”
“I am not trying to boss you around.” Seth shoved his chair back and circled the table to stand over her. Anger was beginning to color his voice. “Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”
“No.” She gave a sharp shake of her head. “All I see is a man trying to tell me what to do and when to do it. Well, I’m tired of it.” Becca drew a quick breath, and ranted on, “I have been telling you I am fine. Why can’t you let it go at that?”
“Because you obviously aren’t fine,” he snapped back at her. “If you were fine you wouldn’t have damn near collapsed in John’s office.”
Although Becca was well aware that everything he was saying was true, she couldn’t admit it.
“Why don’t you just go get your bag and go back to Philadelphia, and leave me alone?” She spun to go to the sink and deposit the dishes. “You’re not my keeper, you’re a surgeon. Go back and save someone’s life, for heaven’s sake!” She turned again, away from him. Gently but firmly grasping her by the upper arm, he stopped her in her tracks.
“The way you’ve been pushing yourself, you need a keeper.” His voice had a ragged edge. Turning to face her, he clasped her other arm. “It might as well be me.”
“I don’t think so,” Becca retorted, a shiver rippling through her when he raised his hand to cradle her face. “You’re the last person…”
“Oh, Becca, shut up.” With that, he very effectively shut her up himself, by covering her mouth with his.
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