It was July in Miami, which meant that the beach was the place to be. Not even the sweltering humidity and 94-degree heat could keep the sun-worshippers away. A motley assortment of sandcastle-building children, dreadlocked surfers, and muumuu-clad senior citizens occupied every inch of sand on my favorite strip of South Beach. I stood at the shoreline, letting the ocean lick at my bare feet, but the water was so warm that it afforded little relief. There was no breeze to stir the skirt of my yellow wrap dress, and the mid-day sun beat down mercilessly on my exposed arms. I could feel the skin on my nose burning and I imagined how horrified my mother would be if I freckled.
A hand touched my shoulder gently. “You’re getting pink.”
“I’ve been out here a while,” I admitted before turning towards him.
Whoa! Had Ford gotten more handsome since the last time I’d seen him? Maybe it was the black aviator sunglasses that seemed to emphasize the strong bone structure of his face? Or the way his light gray dress shirt was casually unbuttoned at the collar, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of his tanned chest? I certainly didn’t remember him being so tall. I’d never had to lean my head back when I’d gazed up at him before. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that I wasn’t wearing any shoes.
Dropping my eyes to my feet, I said, “Thanks for coming.”
“I was surprised to get your message. You said you needed time, and it’s only been three days.”
Three of the longest, most miserable days of my life. It was ridiculous how much I’d missed Ford, how much I’d gotten used to having him around.
“I didn’t think it would be fair to either one of us to drag this out any longer.”
“I see.” With a pained grimace, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked as though he was preparing himself for the worst.
“No, I’m the one who sees, Ford. I see because I know what you did.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I know you paid the difference in my rent this month, and you made a deal under the table with Corman & Macklevy to keep paying the extra thousand for the rest of the year.”
“Oh, crap,” he grumbled, removing his sunglasses and rubbing his eyes wearily. “You weren’t supposed to find out about that. I swear, I didn’t do it to try and ingratiate myself to you. I just hated the thought of you losing your practice when you’d put so much effort and heart into it. And I wanted to give you the chance to make it work, but I knew you’d never take a loan from me and—”
“It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
His brows knit together in confusion. “You’re not?”
“Not at all. You did a nice thing for me, and I believe your motives were pure and unselfish. More than anyone, I think you understand what my practice means to me, and how important it is for me to use my knowledge and skills to help people.”
“I do. You remind me a lot of myself when I was starting out in this business. You’re passionate and idealistic about what you do, and you care so much about your patients. It’s inspiring.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he assured me. “I think you have what it takes to be an exceptional psychologist.”
“Thanks.” His praise made me blush. “And thanks for saving my fledgling career. I owe you.”
“No.” He shook his dark head vehemently. “I don’t want that. I don’t want your gratitude and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me.”
“But I do, and I intend to pay you back in kind.” I meant that I would reward his faith in me by making a success of my practice, but he misinterpreted.
“Don’t get involved with me because you feel beholden,” he commanded gruffly. “There are no strings attached to that money. It’s not a romantic inducement, and I’m not trying to buy your affection.”
“So, now you’re trying to talk me out of taking this relationship,” I waggled a finger back and forth between us, “to the next level?”
“Hell no. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to be with me. If we’re going to move forward with this relationship, then we have to be on the same page regarding our reasons for doing so.”
“Okay,” I agreed, “what page are you on?”
“I’m on the page where the male protagonist takes the heroine by the shoulders, stares deeply into her big, beautiful,” he squinted down at me, “brownish, goldish—”
“Hazel,” I helped him out.
“Thanks,” he said with a sheepish grin. “He looks into her big, beautiful, hazel eyes and tells her that he hopes she can forgive him for being an emotional coward and not telling her the truth about his late wife sooner because he’s crazy about her, and he can’t imagine going another day without hearing one of her amusing anecdotes about her family, or seeing her eyes light up with excitement over a plate of polenta fries or the way her face softens and becomes even more gorgeous whenever she speaks to his son.”
“Hmmmm,” I murmured, trying not to smile even though I felt happy enough to burst open like a piñata filled with too much candy. “That’s a good page, one of my favorites in fact, but I think I’m a little further along in the book. I’m at the part where the heroine has already gotten over the male protagonist letting her think he was married when he wasn’t because she understands that he was grieving and afraid to open up his heart again. She realizes that he wasn’t being manipulative and didn’t intend to hurt or deceive her; he was just trying to protect himself.”
“This heroine is very insightful.” He gently brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped my French twist and fallen into my face. I noticed that his wedding band was no longer on his ring finger. A symbolic gesture that he was ready to move on.
Finally allowing myself to smile, I said, “She comes from a long line of insightful women. It was actually her mother who advised her not to rush to judgment on the male protagonist and to take his kind treatment of her into consideration.”
Taking my hand in his, he said, “Remind me to send your mother some flowers.”
“I think she’d be happier with a year’s supply of Valium.”
“Whatever it takes to keep me on her good side. I’ve got plenty of samples.” He winked at me, and I chortled with amusement.
“So,” Ford stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my waist, “where do we go from here?”
“I’m glad you asked,” I replied, slipping out of his embrace and bending down so that I could scribble something in the wet sand that had been left behind when the tide had ebbed.
“What do you think?” I asked, standing up.
“Date. Me. Ford,” he slowly read the words I’d written.
“Sorry, but I’m on a budget and couldn’t afford a skywriter,” I jokingly referred to Victor’s over-the-top gesture, which I’d essentially ripped off.
“I like this much better. The heart at the end is a nice, artistic touch.”
“If you say ‘yes,’ which I hope you will, then we can have our first official date right now. I brought food and everything.” I motioned up the beach where I’d spread out a blanket earlier.
Holding out his hand to me, Ford said, “Let’s go.”
I led him to the blue plaid blanket that I’d pulled out of the back of my hallway closet that morning, along with the picnic basket I’d bought on sale at Pier 1 a year before and had never used. Kneeling down on the sand-covered material, I reached for the basket and began to extract its contents.
“Since we’re being completely honest with each other about everything now, I must confess that I didn’t make any of this.” I handed him an orange soda, which I knew he liked, and a bag of plantain chips.
“That’s okay. It wasn’t your culinary talent that attracted me to you anyway.” He popped open the drink and took a swig.
“Oh, really? What was it that attracted you then?”
“Well, let’s see.” He stretched out on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “There was your warmth, your intelligence, your sense of humor, your unswerving devotion to your work and family, and, last, but by no means least, your body.”
“My body?” I stopped in the middle of unloading the picnic basket.
“I’ve been secretly admiring it since the day we met, but I don’t think I fully appreciated the heart attack-inducing power of your curves until I saw you spilling out of that little brown bikini at Sara’s fashion show the other day.”
I grinned. “You liked that bikini, huh?”
“Liked doesn’t begin to describe my feelings about that bikini. I want to dedicate love songs to it. I want to build it a shrine. I want to take it to meet my parents. I don’t suppose you’re hiding it under that dress?” Leaning forward, he slid the strap of the silk and rayon garment towards the edge of my shoulder to see what lay beneath.
I smacked his hand away before he could expose my not-very-exciting beige bra strap. “Eat,” I instructed, pushing a paper-wrapped sandwich at him.
“What is this?” he wondered.
“Pan con Bistec.”
He frowned, so I explained, “It’s a Cuban steak sandwich.”
“Sounds good.” He removed the paper from the sandwich and was about to take a bite when he made a face and pulled back. Opening the bread, he looked at what was inside. “Garlic and onions?”
“Uh-huh, that’s how Pan con Bistec is prepared, with lime juice, garlic, and onions.”
“If I eat this, I’m going to have such bad breath that an entire tin of Altoids won’t help.”
“Why do you care about your breath? Were you planning on kissing someone later?” I teased.
“No, I was planning on kissing someone . . . now!” He tossed his sandwich into the open picnic basket and lunged at me. Giggling, I fell back against the blanket with him, and we spent the rest of our lunch hour not eating.
* * *
Returning to our office building arm-in-arm, Ford and I were sweaty, sunburned, and had grains of sand in a lot of uncomfortable places, but neither of us cared.
“That was the best lunch ever!” I proclaimed as I snuggled up against him.
Gazing down at me tenderly, he said, “No arguments from me. We should make that a noontime habit.”
“What? The kissing or the skipping a meal?”
“Both. Think how thin we’ll be.”
“Beats the heck out of exercising.”
Stopping in front of Suite #2-B, I looked at my office door and sighed forlornly.
“I guess we have to go back to work now.”
“Or . . .,” Ford bent down to whisper seductively in my ear, “we could reschedule all of our afternoon appointments and play hooky for the rest of the day.”
I gasped and brought a hand to my throat. “How capricious! How irresponsible! Dr. Fordham, you shock me!”
Maneuvering me back against the door, he murmured, “I think our patients can survive without us for a few hours,” then began to plant a series of soft, warm kisses down my throat.
I chuckled and twined my arms around his neck. “I can see that you are going to be a very bad influence.”
“What can I say?” He nibbled on my ear lobe. “You bring out my inner nonconformist.”
“I have a 2:00,” I protested feebly, but my words were muffled by Ford’s mouth, which descended on mine with passionate intent.
We kissed like a couple of overly hormonal teenagers, so hungry for each other that we were completely oblivious to our surroundings. The sound of someone opening my office door from the inside didn’t even register in either of our fevered brains.
With a surprised squeak, I tumbled backwards into my office and probably would have ended up spread eagle on the floor if Ford hadn’t somehow managed to keep his balance and hold on to me.
“Dr. Alvarez! I thought that was you I heard out in the hallway,” an unaccountably perky voice greeted me.
From my dipped position, I looked over Ford’s shoulder and saw Lori Bryant, standing next to the door.
“Lori, uh . . .” I tapped Ford on the chest, and he straightened up with me in his arms.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you today. What brings you by?” I queried breathlessly as I adjusted my dress, which had gotten completely twisted around during my clinch with Ford.
“I’ve got the most wonderful news and I just couldn’t wait until next week to share it with you!” She was so excited she was practically vibrating.
“That’s great. What is it?”
“I’m engaged!” she squealed, clapping her hands together and jumping up and down like a four-year-old who’d just been given a Premium Pass to the Magic Kingdom.
“Uh, wow!” I glanced over at Margo, who was sitting at her desk munching on a corned beef sandwich.
“You could have knocked me over with a feather,” she remarked in her wry way. “Show her the ring, doll.”
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Lori stuck a huge diamond in my face.
I gaped at it, too stunned to speak. The setting, the stone, the platinum band . . .
Ford looked down at the glittery rock and frowned. “Isn’t that the same ring that—”
I elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow!” he objected, rubbing his side.
“It’s a beautiful ring, Lori.”
“Victor said it’s one-of-a-kind. No other woman on the planet has one like it.”
“No other woman wanted it,” Ford muttered, and I shot him a dirty look.
“You never did tell me how you met your fiancé,” I prompted my patient.
“If you can believe it, we met right here in front of your office building. It was a couple Thursdays ago, and I had the afternoon off because Jiff had an appointment at the doggie day spa over on 16th. When I picked him up, I thought, My guy looks SO adorable in his bandanna with the Stars and Stripes pattern, which I got because—”
“Independence Day was coming up,” I connected the dots.
“Right! So, I decided to walk Jiff over to your office and introduce the two of you since I talk about you to each other all the time. And there he was, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, sitting on a bus stop bench, looking so lonely and miserable. I just had to stop and ask if he was okay. He invited me to join him, so I did, and we started talking about why he was so sad.”
“Do tell,” I encouraged.
Lori sighed dramatically. “It’s a tragic story, full of love, sacrifice, and crushing disappointment. You see, Victor was involved with this awful woman. I’m sure you know the type, Dr. Alvarez. Cold, bitchy, career-driven.”
“I hate women like that,” Ford interjected, then smirked at me, obviously finding a lot more humor in the situation than I was.
“There are always two sides to the story when a couple breaks up,” I told Lori.
“Oh no, not in this case. Victor was definitely the injured party. He did everything to make this woman happy, he offered her the world, and she just stomped all over his poor sensitive heart. She didn’t appreciate him at all.”
“I guess it’s a good thing he found you then.”
I never would have thought to put the two of them together, but Lori was such a bottomless pit of need and Victor could certainly fill that pit up with all of his demands for love, time, and attention. Their neuroses would probably complement each other perfectly.
“Isn’t it funny the way things work out?” Lori mused.
“Hilarious,” Ford deadpanned.
“So, when’s the wedding?”
“November 10th, so mark your calendar, Dr. Alvarez, because you have GOT to come!”
“That might not be—,” I tried to beg off, but Lori wasn’t listening.
“And, of course, you have to bring your boyfriend. You are Dr. Alvarez’s boyfriend, right?” She directed a curious gaze at Ford. “The one who sent her all those beautiful orchids a few months back?”
“Actually—”
“Yep, that’s me.” Ford draped a proprietary arm over my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “I just love to shower my little poblano pepper with ridiculously expensive presents whenever I can.”
His little what?
“Good-looking and romantic! Just like my Victor! Oh, Dr. Alvarez,” she embraced me with affection, “aren’t we both lucky?”
“So it would seem . . .”
“Oooooooo . . .” Lori’s eyes suddenly grew wide, and I could almost see the light bulb switching on over her curly red head. “We should have a double wedding!” she exclaimed.
Ford and I exchanged looks of unadulterated horror.
“No, no, we couldn’t do that,” I insisted in a panic-stricken voice. “This is going to be your special day, Lori. You shouldn’t have to share the spotlight with anyone.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But you will be there, won’t you? I can’t get married without you, Dr. Alvarez. I just can’t!”
“If I have that day free—” I certainly wasn’t going to make any promises. The last thing I wanted to do was watch my patient walk down the aisle with my ex. The whole situation was just too weird, and it was probably some sort of professional conflict of interest.
“Please, please, please, please . . .”
Damn it.