When I got home, I changed into comfortable jeans, a loose tank top, and took my hair out of the ponytail it had been in all day. I pulled it half up, and let some pieces on the side fall around my face. There was no need for make-up but I did add a little bit of gloss to my lips before I got back into my car and made the drive to his place. Turns out he lived on the tenth floor of a building not far from the hospital. He had instructed me to pull into the parking garage and what number space to park in. When I got into the elevator the butterflies started their fluttering. I didn’t know what I to expect from Turner tonight, but I was stepping foot into his space. It was his domain and his rules. Was tonight going to turn into something more than just a kiss? Would I allow it? I decided before I raised my hand to knock on the door, that I would just let things flow and see where the night took us. It went against the grain for me, however I couldn’t deny that I wanted Turner Brooks. He intrigued me in every sense of the word. I desired him like no other, and at some point I needed to admit to myself that I honestly had no control with him. He held me captive when I got too close, and if he wanted something from me, I was going to let him take it.
I knocked softly. He opened the door and my mouth gaped. Wearing a pair of worn jeans, and a tight fitted t-shirt, not a single muscle wasn’t on full display and open to my viewing. Even better, he was traipsing around without shoes or socks. He saw me checking him out and I made a show of closing my mouth and giving him a “fuck you, I may have been caught but it doesn’t matter” smirk.
“Evening, Annabelle.” He stepped to the side allowing me to come in.
“Doctor Brooks.” I regarded him formally.
He shook his head as I walked past. Our banter and flirting was already starting and the evening was young. Following behind me, he closed the door and allowed me to scan my surroundings. It was a very modern, chic apartment, and exactly what I expected from him. Clean lines, black leather furniture, and an open floor plan. There was no true entry way into the space. I walked right into the living room where a large couch sat at an angle over the top of a gray area rug. A massive television covered a portion of the wall, and a very nice surround sound system hung in every corner that I could see. To the right was a kitchen that had gray cabinets and a black granite countertop. Stainless steel appliances rounded off the modern kitchen. It smelled amazing in here—an aroma of fresh herbs and spices with a touch of garlic. Stepping toward the kitchen, I saw the two wine glasses and a bottle of white and red wine next to them. Something was simmering on the stovetop, and two plates sat beside it.
I turned to look at him. “What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken piccata over linguine, and garlic bread is in the oven.” He skirted past me, barely brushing my bare arm. I shivered. “I wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, but reds usually go better with Italian.”
“Red is fine,” I concurred.
He poured me half a glass, while he did the same for himself. “Feel free to relax and make yourself at home. There are stools on the other side of the bar if you care to sit there.”
I did as he suggested. He went to the stove and stirred what was cooking. I took a seat on a silver stool that had no backing. It was slightly uncomfortable but for conversation sake, I’d stay here until it was time to eat.
“How was work?” he asked.
“Quite busy actually. Three deliveries.”
“Were you in on all of them?”
“I was for two, the last I came in after baby was born and did some clean up.”
“Do you ever get to go in during C-sections?”
“No, not really. I’ve seen a few, but there are other nurses on staff, that are trained for those.”
Small talk, or genuine interest. Either way, the conversation flowed from one subject to another. I’d been there for about twenty minutes when he said the food was ready. He made my plate and carried it over to a black table. He stuck to his word. No candles were lit, and no weird music was being played. There was a clicker on the table near his chair and he picked it up and pushed a couple buttons. In a moment I heard Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On“ start playing throughout the house.
I looked at him and raised a brow. “Really?”
He chuckled. “I’m totally teasing. Set that one up.”
I laughed. “Well played.”
He pushed another couple buttons and some low key country came on.
“I promise no more ‘cheese.’ But I had to tease.”
I smirked. “Wasn’t sure where you were going with that one.”
He shook his head and dove into his food. I followed suit and silence ensued. It was still comfortable though. It felt like we’d done this many times before and it was natural to enjoy each other’s company. Something I’d never felt with someone else before.
“You ever consider moving up to my floor?”
I paused with my fork midair. “I suppose I have.”
“If a position opened up, would you consider it?”
I thought about it. “Maybe, but I’m enjoying where I’m at more than I expected too. The other nurses are quite nice and seeing the deliveries day in and day out, is very gratifying to me. No two births are the same, and it keeps me on my toes.”
He pondered my words. Taking his last bite, he set his fork down and sat back in his chair. Blue eyes were staring me down and I swallowed my food almost whole. He had the ability to make me feel so comfortable one minute, and completely unglued the next. And could his shoulders be any wider?
“Chew your food a little better, Annabelle. I may know the Heimlich but that doesn’t mean I want to perform it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I see you.” His voice got deeper.
“You see me?”
“Yes. I see everything.”
Enough already. Shake it off, Annabelle. He was taking control and I needed it back. “Interesting.” I broke eye contact and poked at my food. “So not only are you a comedian, we can add psycho stalker to your list of qualities. Noted.”
He barked out a laugh. “And there you go again.”
“What did I do?”
“I may see things about you, but one thing I can never figure out is what is going to come out of your mouth next. It keeps me on my toes.”
“Glad I keep you entertained.” I took his advice and chewed a little more thoughtfully.
He tilted his head to the side regarding me. I expected him to shoot back, but he didn’t. Instead he stood, and picked up his plate and glass. “Finish up. I’m going to start the dishes and then we can sit and relax.”
Relax. Riiight. Whatever that was with a man like him sitting next to me. Such a contradiction. I was able to feel at ease next to him, but also edgy. I only had a couple more bites to finish and I was stuffed. Like, certain my stomach was hanging over my pants and I’d be much more comfortable in yoga pants, stuffed. I’ll give him credit, the man could cook. Certainly a quality his mom instilled. Mimicking what he’d done, I took my dishes over to him. I expected him to step out of the way so I could rinse mine off and put them in the dishwasher, but he took them from my hand instead.
“Thank you.”
He eyed me curiously. “You’re welcome. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll be over in a minute.”
I did as he asked. Even though my heart was wanting to take a little galloping stroll in my chest, I took a couple deep breaths and reminded myself that I didn’t have to do anything that I didn’t want to. I could, in fact, control the situation. Lies. That was a bald faced lie I would continue to tell myself up until Turner came and sat down next to me. Good God, the man smelled divine. It was a subtle soap scent mixed with a light cologne. How bad would it look if I closed my eyes and inhaled?
“Alright I’ve fed you, given you drinks, and now it’s time to talk.”
I raised my brow. “About?”
“Annabelle.” He said my name in warning.
“Turner.” I dished back.