Healing Dr. Alexander

  Rolling onto her side, she studied him. Exhausted from working a shift and a half at the clinic, he had passed out almost as soon as he’d rolled off her. Which was fine with her, more than fine, because it gave her a chance to observe him unaware.

  He looked different asleep, when the charming—but guarded—façade dropped away and revealed what was really going on inside him. It wasn’t exactly a sight that comforted Sophie. Instead of looking relaxed or carefree when he slept, he looked miserable. Tortured. And about five years older.

  Here, now, in bed with her, the pain he managed to keep hidden when he was awake was written plainly on his face—in the deep grooves around his mouth and the lines of worry and sadness that were etched around his eyes. This was the real Jack, the one he hid from everyone, even her. Especially her. After that first night at her house, when she’d pushed him too far, too fast, he’d been extra-careful to hide his torment from her.

  He was still handsome, though. Maybe even more beautiful, as she had never been one to fall for perfection—in art or in life. She liked the character lines in his face, liked the character behind them, as well. Jack was one man in a million. One who gave selflessly of himself even though he didn’t have to. One who always found a way to make her day better, no matter how miserable he was.

  What did that do to him? she wondered. What was it like to keep everything bottled up inside of you because it was the only way you knew to protect yourself and those around you? She knew something about that, but there were places she relaxed, people she relaxed with. She might not wear her heart on her sleeve, but at least she had some kind of outlet.

  She didn’t claim to know everything about Jack, but she understood enough to see that he was locked down so tightly it was a miracle he didn’t explode. Or implode, because that was the type he was. He held it all inside until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Couldn’t function.

  Maybe that’s why he made love the way he did. So powerful, so focused, so passionate that she felt like she’d been scorched. If she’d given any thought to what it would be like to sleep with Jack—and maybe she had, a little—she would have expected making love to him to be sweet, fun, exciting. But this… She sighed. This had been so much more. This had been soul-searing, overwhelming, so much so that she still wasn’t sure how she was going to face him when he woke up.

  She felt like he’d broken her protective shell open, and everything inside of her—everything she kept private—was now on display. She didn’t like it, though she had to admit that she already craved a repeat performance of this afternoon’s antics.

  Too bad she had no idea how to deal with it. Oh, she knew this didn’t change things between them. It’s not like they were dating or anything like that. They were friends who had an undercurrent of attraction running through their relationship, which—for whatever reason—had burst into flames today. She didn’t know what had caused it, but she was smart enough to know it wasn’t her and her flowers.

  No, what had happened between them had come from Jack. Something had caused all the emotions simmering inside of him to pop and she had simply been there. The most unbelievable sex of her life had been the result. She hoped that whatever it was that had set him off had somehow been released, or at least relieved, by what they’d done together. For his sake.

  Her stomach growled—such a mundane thing to have happen while she was contemplating the weight of the universe—and she glanced at the clock. She’d spent over two hours in Jack’s bed, which meant she had about half an hour or so before the boys got home from school. Just enough time to take a quick shower and, if she was lucky, finish up the pots outside.

  But when she started to get up, Jack’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against him. She started to laugh, to explain her reasoning to him, but when she rolled over to face him, she realized he was still asleep.

  There really was a lot going on under the surface there, she thought, brushing a soft kiss across Jack’s forehead before slowly disengaging his arm. She wished she knew what it all meant. Were they still friends? Friends with benefits? Or were they moving into lover territory? And if they were, how exactly did she feel about that? She wasn’t sure, but she’d better figure it out pretty quickly. Because if she knew Jack, once he woke up, he was going to be right back in her face—one way or the other.

  * * *

  JACK CAME TO awareness slowly. Rolling over onto his back, he stretched his cramped muscles and smiled. He hadn’t slept like that for a long time, dead to the world around him. But when he reached out a hand to touch Sophie, he was alarmed to realize she wasn’t there with him. He glanced at the clock, and when he saw that it was almost seven, he sat straight upright. Night had crept across the sky and the room was filled with shadow. He was only working a half shift tonight—it started at eleven, but still. He’d slept a large portion of the day away. Thank God Sophie had been home to get the boys today as he had totally fallen down on the job.

  What a jerk. He’d come home while Sophie was doing something nice for him, had practically assaulted her on his front porch, then dragged her inside and made love to her until he was nearly in a coma. And hadn’t even checked with her to make sure she was on kid-duty today. Totally smooth.

  What must she be thinking? he wondered as he rolled out of bed. What was he thinking, for that matter? Sophie was his friend. Yes, she was beautiful and yes, he was attracted to her, but she was his friend. And he had all but attacked her.

  When he thought back to what he’d done to her, what they’d done together, his stomach nose-dived. After losing a patient that morning, he’d been walking a fine line of control as it was. And then he’d come home and seen her and all the emotions he tried so hard not to feel had rushed up, exploding outward.

  He’d pushed Sophie hard, had taken everything she had to give as he demanded reactions from her that were more in line with long-time lovers. And it had only been their first time together. Sure, it had been amazing. Unbelievable, and so exciting that he was getting aroused thinking about the long, passionate minutes. But still. He’d given her no reassurances. He told himself that it was because he had nothing to give, but that didn’t excuse him. Sophie wasn’t the kind of woman who indulged in one-night stands. And yet that was exactly how he’d treated her, rolling over and going to sleep without so much as a few sweet words. Forget jerk. He’d been a total Neanderthal.

  No wonder she was long gone.

  Annoyed beyond measure, Jack rolled out of bed and headed straight for the shower. As he did, he winced a little at all the small muscles that twinged after hours of intense lovemaking. It was a good wince, and they were good pains, but still, he was a little embarrassed. He was always an intense lover, but never had he pushed a woman like he had Sophie. So quickly and so completely. He’d sensed her holding back at the beginning and it had snapped something deep inside of him. They weren’t together, but he liked her, admired her. Trusted her in a way he didn’t trust many people. He wanted that same trust from her and had pushed at her until he’d gotten it.

  He wanted to feel bad, and if he was honest with himself, he did feel like he’d gone at her too hard. But at the same time, he loved the way she’d handled it. Loved the sex they’d had. It was amazing his house was still standing.

  He took a super fast shower, then got dressed almost as quickly. Maybe Sophie had left because she wanted some time to process what had happened. Maybe she had left simply because she’d needed to be at home with her kids—though he didn’t get that because they crashed at his house all the time. Whatever the reason was, he was going to get it out of her. The gentlemanly thing might be to wait until she came to him, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. If Sophie had run, or even retreated, he was going to have to be the one to go over there. Which he would, gladly, as long as it didn’t mean having to define their relationship.

  He didn’t want to do th
at right now, didn’t even know if he could. He liked Sophie, loved spending time with her and her kids. But at the same time it felt like he had fast-forwarded through a bunch of steps, skipping many steps that might actually help them both make sense of what was between them. He wasn’t sure what to do about that.

  But he had to do something. Sophie deserved it.

  * * *

  WHEN THE doorbell rang at five after seven, Sophie wasn’t the least bit surprised. As the boys ran for the door, scrambling over each other in their determination to reach it first, she tried to decide what she was going to say to Jack. Nothing came to her, but then, she wasn’t surprised after four hours of thinking in useless circles about how she wanted this meeting to go.

  Kyle won the battle, with a little strategic help from her, since Noah had totally been cheating. God love her firstborn, he had a no-holds-barred attitude about competition and it was going to end up getting him in trouble someday.

  Kyle flung the door open and Jack stood there, hands shoved into the back pockets of his worn jeans with a look on his face that was halfway between guilt and satisfaction. She knew exactly how he felt, only she was leaning—heavily—toward the satisfaction portion of the equation. She hoped by the time he left here, he would be, too.

  “You busy?” he asked from his side of the threshold.

  “Not at all. Come on in. The boys and I were about to break out superhero Yahtzee, if you’d like to play with us.”

  “Oh.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Sure. Have you eaten already?”

  “We did, yes, but I’ve got leftovers if you’d like.”

  “That would be great, thanks,” he said, all good manners and politeness. It made her want to giggle like a schoolgirl—nerves always did that to her—but really, of all the reactions he could have had, politeness wasn’t a bad one.

  “Noah. Kyle. Get the game set up and sharpen four pencils so we can each have our own. There’s a new box upstairs in the top drawer of my desk.” Satisfied that would keep them busy, at least for a little while, she turned back to Jack. “Come on,” she told him, leading the way to the kitchen. “It’s just spaghetti, but there’s plenty of it.”

  He laughed. “Mama Maria strikes again.”

  “She does, indeed. But at least it’s healthier than takeout.”

  “You know, I could teach you how to cook a few more dishes, if you’d like.”

  “You know how to cook?”

  “You say that like it’s such a shock.”

  “No, I just haven’t seen you do it once in all the days I’ve picked the boys up at your house.”

  “I said I know how to cook, not that I love it so much that I’d do it when I still have a house full of casseroles.”

  “Oh, right. I’d forgotten about the parade-of-casseroles.”

  “Does that ever get old, by the way? When does the welcome wagon in the South decide that enough is enough?”

  “Right around the time the handsome single doctor decides to get married.”

  Oh, God. Sophie froze the second the words left her mouth. Had she really just said it? It was the truth, but maybe too much of the truth for this exact moment? Now Jack probably thought she was angling to go from one afternoon in his bed straight to the altar—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

  She could feel her cheeks start to flame—damn redheaded complexion—and ducked her head into the refrigerator in an effort to cool them down. And avoid his gaze, but Jack didn’t need to know that. She rummaged in the refrigerator, pretending to search for the spaghetti as she waited for him to run for the hills.

  But thank God Jake didn’t freak out as easily as she did, because he laughed.

  He said, “The flowers look great. Thanks so much for doing that for me.”

  “They do, don’t they? I’m so glad you like them. I was worried when I put the purple in that you’d freak out. Phlox isn’t what one would exactly call a manly flower. But I thought it was a nice foil to the hot colors of the others.” It was her turn to laugh as she realized how absurd they both sounded.

  Turning to face him, she asked, “Are we really standing here talking about flowers?”

  Jack considered this for a second. “It would seem that we are.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we don’t want to talk about the fact that we spent the afternoon having the best sex of our lives?” he suggested. Then paled a little. “Or, at least I did.”

  It was the first time his composure had faltered since he came to her door, and it helped her to relax a little bit. Reminded her that he was still human and that she wasn’t alone in this. “I did, too,” she rushed to assure him.

  Jack didn’t say anything for long seconds, so Sophie busied herself getting his plate in the microwave. “Lemonade?” she asked, reaching for a glass.

  “What? Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Look, Sophie…”

  Ugh. The part of herself that had been holding its breath ever since she’d crawled out of his bed that afternoon exhaled on a huge sigh. So it was to be one of those discussions, the kind that started with “Look,” and ended with a broken heart. Except her heart wasn’t going to be broken. It wasn’t even going to be bruised. She’d made sure of that in the hours since she left his bed.

  Sure, she had reasoned, Jack was the first guy she’d been with since Jeff had left for Afghanistan five years ago, but she wasn’t expecting any kind of commitment from him. They were just friends, after all. Neighbors. They’d both been lonely this afternoon and whatever had happened had happened. That was it.

  But judging from the look on Jack’s face, he wasn’t thinking the same way she was. But then how could he be? She was the one who’d brought up marriage, no matter how innocuously. He probably thought she was picking out china patterns in her head. Which meant there was nothing else to do but brazen it out.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, depositing Jack’s plate on the table in front of him before handing him a napkin and a fork. “Someone has his serious face on.”

  Jack grimaced and her hands began shaking so much that she shoved them in her pockets. Judging from the look on his face, this was going to be even worse than she’d anticipated. Determined to postpone the inevitable, she gave him a breezy smile and said, “Don’t worry about it, Jack. It’s fine.”

  His eyebrows drew together, though she wasn’t sure if it was a result of her words or her tone. “What’s fine?” he demanded.

  “You know. What happened earlier. It was no big deal, right. Just chemistry or hormones. Whatever you want to call it. But it was fun, right? We both had a good time? Let’s leave it at that.”

  Underneath the already furrowed brow, his eyes grew stormy. “Did you really blame making love to me on hormones?” he said. “We’re not sixteen, Sophie.”

  She couldn’t believe how blunt he was being. No euphemisms from the good doctor, rather a lot of facts bundled together like a question. She wanted to think, wanted to be alone for a few seconds so she could figure out what she was supposed to say. But the look on Jack’s face told her that that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was, until they settled what was between them.

  Deciding if he was going to be blunt, she could be brazen, so she winked at him. “No, we’re not. But I am thirty-five, and you know what they say.”

  Now those whiskey colored eyes narrowed. With every word she uttered, it seemed she was working her way toward more and more trouble. “Actually, Sophie, no I don’t know,” he said, his voice deceptively pleasant. “Why don’t you tell me? What do they say?”

  Sophie nearly choked on her own tongue, especially with the predatory way he was watching her. She was suddenly beginning to have a lot more sympathy for the gazelles in the wildlife programs Noah liked to watch on Saturday mornings.

  “You’re the doctor.”


  “I am. What I also am is pretty skilled at figuring out when someone is snowing me.”

  “Snowing you? It’s eighty degrees out!” She was playing dumb, but as soon as the words left her mouth she knew that she’d gone too far. Sure enough, Jack pushed his chair back from the table and stalked slowly toward her, a twisted little smile on his lips that was somewhere between a grin and a smirk.

  “Maybe, but it’s about twenty degrees below zero in here.”

  That shut her up. Was he saying she was cold and making him feel unwelcome? She puzzled over it a few seconds, but then it was too late because Jack was towering over her, his wonderful amber eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

  “You aren’t actually trying to tell me that that’s your whole reaction to this afternoon, are you? The whole, ‘it was nice but not a big deal’? I know you’re not that kind of woman, Sophie.”

  “What kind of woman is that?” she asked, vaguely offended. She wasn’t a prude.

  “The kind who blows a guy off after sex.”

  Is that what he thought she was doing? She licked her lips nervously, swallowed convulsively. Tried to take a step back, but he had her completely trapped. The center island was at her back, Jack—stormy-eyed and sarcastic—was in front of her, and his arms were on either side of her.

  “I was trying to say that I had a really good time,” the words came out with difficulty. She seemed to suddenly be a little breathless. She could feel him pressed against her and it was quite obvious that he was aroused. Maybe she’d jumped the gun on when she assumed he came over to let her down easy. “I didn’t want you to think I expect anything from you.”

  “I spent over two hours this afternoon getting to know your body as intimately as is possible. I think you’ve got the right to expect something from me. Don’t you?”