my boyfriend and I wanted to share together.” That’s how it always started, with a little lie to avoid looking pathetic. What did it matter since she’d be heading home in a few minutes anyway? “My fiancé, actually.” Having a fiancé was better than a boyfriend, right? “It’s all so new.” She smiled. “I have to get used to calling him that.”
Nick lifted her left hand and pointed out, “No ring.”
Emma snatched it back and answered, “Tonight’s a role-play night,” thankful for her ability to think fast. “Anyway, he’s a doctor.” She smiled proudly, even knowing her date would most definitely not be a doctor, since she’d strictly forbidden Sadie from choosing one of their colleagues at the hospital. “He probably got tied up with one of his patients and couldn’t reach me because of the poor cell service.” Or more likely because Emma had insisted Sadie not share her address or phone number with anyone. A woman living on her own had to be careful.
A commotion at the far end of the room caught Angie’s attention and she excused herself to go investigate. Thank goodness Nick and Sugar followed.
No sooner had they disappeared from view, the front door banged open.
As if a bad-luck bomb had exploded at her feet, Emma’s night went from bad to worse, because not ten feet away stood Brody “The Bull” Bullock, the overconfident, full-of-himself professional wrestler who routinely visited her pediatric floor to entertain the kids.
Please, God, no. Not him. Not tonight.
She froze, instantly regretting the bright, bold print of the low-cut, cleavage-displaying sundress she’d worn. A colorful dress that made her stand out in a crowd, when right now she desperately wanted to blend in.
He stood in the doorway, filling it with his large frame, while he surveyed the room. His signature tight black T-shirt hugged his over-muscled chest, and worn-out, faded blue jeans clung to his hips and thick thighs. He was too big, too handsome, too everything. At the thought of him witnessing her humiliation, of him telling his loud-mouthed friends how he’d found her alone at a voyeur motel, of the endless teasing and tormenting she would no doubt be forced to endure as a result, her heart started to pound and her armpits grew disturbingly wet.
I’ll go to church every Sunday, she bargained with the Almighty. Just don’t let him notice me. Maybe she should have offered up a more realistic and achievable bargaining chip, because in that moment he spotted her and smiled his cocky I’m-so-handsome-you-gotta-love-me smile. And Emma got the distinct impression he wasn’t at all surprised to see her there, that he expected to see her. Which could only mean...
Oh no, no, no, she shook her head and took a step back, trying to put more distance between them. One of her very specific criteria had been no one from the hospital. Okay, so technically she and Brody didn’t actually work together, but close enough.
Emma glanced around the room looking for another exit, not finding one. Damn it.
He’s totally into you, Sadie had said.
Why would she lie? Why would she get Emma’s hopes up only to send them crashing down into a disappointed heap at the big blind date reveal?
Guys like Brody, aka way too good-looking, popular athletes, didn’t pay attention to women like Emma. Unless their interest was forced as part of a bet, or they chose a dare over the truth, or they wanted something from her. In high school and college it’d been for help getting in good with one of her friends or for a tutor to help them maintain academic eligibility to play sports. Always in private, so no one would see them together, so worried about their precious reputations. Egocentric assholes.
Which is why Emma made it a point to avoid guys like Brody. And when she couldn’t, like at work when she’d first been assigned to screening the wrestlers before they could circulate among the patients, it was why she remained aloof, all business, a total professional unsusceptible to their insincere charms.
He stepped toward her and Emma’s heart started to race. Why was he here? Cruel prank came to mind. And Emma got mad. How dare he ruin her night? And ruin it he had. Because there was absolutely no way in hell she’d be shedding one stitch of clothing in front of The Bull. No way in hell she’d give him the opportunity to criticize her or poke fun at her or discuss her many physical imperfections with his wrestling buddies, like they discussed so many other women, as if Emma wasn’t even in the room.
Best birthday ever? Over before it’d even begun.
When he came to a stop in front of her, looking as if he had every right to be there, Emma wanted to hit him. If she could have done it without creating a scene she would have. Instead she pursed her lips to keep from screaming out and narrowed her eyes in warning.
He held up his hands, seeming ready to fend off an attack—apparently he was smarter than he looked—and opened his mouth to say something. But his words got drowned out when Angie yelled, “Thank God. A doctor.”
What?
Emma jerked her head around to see the parted crowd and a clear path to Angie, who was kneeling next to a man who’d apparently collapsed to the floor. “Come.” She motioned with her hand to Brody. “We need you.”
With a collective swivel of heads, everyone in the room turned in their direction.
Brody glanced over his shoulder as if expecting a doctor to be standing there.
If the situation hadn’t appeared so serious, Emma may have laughed at Brody’s horrified expression as he turned back to face Angie and pointed to his chest. “You mean me?” He shook his head. “No way. I’m not a doctor.”
“Isn’t he your fiancé?” Angie asked Emma loudly, her voice approaching panic.
Apparently Angie was not a fan of wrestling. All eyes shifted to Emma.
“You have a fiancé?” Brody bellowed.
Good Lord.
He stood to his full height of a couple of inches over way too tall, crossed his beefy arms over his wide chest and stared down at her with angry brown eyes.
As if he could bully an explanation out of her.
The jerk.
Emma looked away to find no escape in the dozens of questioning, some disapproving, eyes still locked on her. So she did the only thing she could and tried to divert their attention. “Man down, people.” She stormed toward the man sitting on the floor. “Let’s focus on what’s important.”
Someone yelled, “That’s The Bull.”
Another person, this one female, followed with, “What’s he doing here?”
A third added, “He’s her date?”
The third speaker just happened to be standing within elbow range when she’d uttered that unflattering remark. So Emma maybe nudged her aside a little harder than necessary while saying, “I’m a nurse. Back up and give me room,” so the woman wouldn’t feel in any way assaulted.
Emma knelt beside the twenty-something blond-haired businessman who appeared to be experiencing moderate respiratory distress with impaired air exchange. “My name is Emma and I’m
