“Yeah, you know, out.” When all he did was raise a questioning eyebrow she looked down at the sidewalk and tried to hide her smile of embarrassment. “As in dating.”
Clasping his hands behind his back he said, “Ah, I see. Well, I hope you’ll give me the chance to check that particular goal off your list.”
Lucie spared a quick glance at him from under her lashes before refocusing on ensuring she didn’t trip on anything. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Okay, so what about the long-term goals? Where do you see yourself, say, in five years?”
She was starting to feel like she was on an interview, although she supposed that’s what first dates were essentially. Considering she hadn’t really been on any—with her only serious relationship they’d skipped over stereotypical dating by hanging out with his friends all the time—she couldn’t really judge what was normal versus odd.
“Professionally I don’t see myself doing anything different. I’m happy where where I am.”
“Really, you don’t have any desire to move up? What about becoming the clinic director instead of just a therapist?”
“You mean take over for Annie?” She laughed as she pictured the scenario. “That woman runs a tighter ship than most naval captains. You’ve seen my office. If I took the helm, we’d go down faster than the Titanic.”
He chuckled along with her for a few seconds, but then said, “Seriously though, why wouldn’t you want to advance from where you’re at now? I can’t imagine being satisfied until I’ve gone as far as I can go in my field. I mean, why do you think I spend so many nights working on cases? It’s not for the warm and fuzzy feeling I get from helping the patient.”
Lucie snapped her head to the side. “You’re not telling me you couldn’t care less about your patients, are you?”
“Of course not,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I care about them. But I could care about them during my shift hours without working overtime. I do that part because I want to get ahead, get promoted. And if I have a truly special case one of these times, I can even write about it and get published in one of the medical journals.
“I do care about the people I operate on. I genuinely want to help them or I wouldn’t be a surgeon. But I don’t see why it’s a crime to care about me and my future, too.”
Lucie frowned as she turned her attention to the cracks in the cement before her. She’d always known Stephen didn’t work late on cases with her as an excuse to be in her company, but she’d thought for sure it was due to an immense dedication to their patients.
Then again, like he said, it wasn’t that he didn’t care about them. He was just conscientious about his career. He had goals, which last time she checked, was something to be admired. Giving him a reassuring smile, she said, “I understand. And I think it’s great you have high aspirations.”
As they stopped in front of her apartment building Stephen turned to her and put a foot up on the bottom stair. “We did it again.”
She was suddenly so nervous about what might happen in the last few minutes of their date she couldn’t follow his train of thought. “What did we do?”
He smiled wide. “We managed to bring the conversation back around to work.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t mind. It’s something we have in common, so it’s natural our conversation leans in that direction. I think compatibility is important.”
Stephen took a step toward her and her stomach dropped. He wasn’t as tall as Reid so she didn’t need to look up quite as far, and his leaner build didn’t make her feel like she was being consumed by his mere presence, but the fact that his eyes had settled on her lips was enough to make her want to bolt for the door.
That wasn’t right, was it? She should want him to kiss her. For years she’d dreamed of this moment. The moment he’d wrap his arms around her and the rest of the world would cease to exist as his lips finally met hers.
I’m just nervous. She’d built this moment up in her mind for so long she could scarcely comprehend it was here.
“Well, if this wasn’t perfect timing.”
Lucie whipped around to see Reid walking toward them like a living ad for Nike’s Just Do It campaign, wearing nothing but a pair of their black athletic pants and neon blue running shoes, hands on hips and breathing hard from a run. When he stopped a mere two feet away the street lamp above him highlighted the rivulets of sweat that trickled over the ridges of his torso before disappearing into the elastic riding low on his hips.
He extended his arm to her right to shake hands with her date. “Nice to see you again, Mann.”