Published by: CJ BooksRelease Date: Coming soon!
Genre: Contemporary
When Camille Kirby breaks her glasses—and forgets her spare pair—while out of town at an engineering conference, it’s a major disaster. She’s half-blind without her specs, so she needs an optometrist fast.
Even though the office is technically closed, Dr. Dalton Wakefield is a sucker for a damsel in distress, so when Camille calls, he agrees to see her immediately. What he doesn’t expect is to be more attracted to her than he has been to any other woman in a long time. Of course, she’s only in Gatlinburg for a week. Just his luck. Still, he can’t help but ask her out for coffee after he gets her set up with some contact lenses.
Coffee turns into multiple dates, and Camille ends up spending every free second she has with him. She’s a sensible, no-nonsense kind of woman, so she has a tough time admitting that she’s fallen for the man she’d very rationally decided to have a no-strings affair with. This was supposed to be all about sex, not emotion. Not love.
But Dalton’s way ahead of her. It’s taken him a long time to find Ms. Perfect, and there’s no way he’s letting her walk out of his life.
Excerpt
Dalton sat at his desk, frowning at his computer, trying to rein in his annoyance. He would rather be outside in the sunshine, going for a run, driving his Jeep with the hard top off and the music cranked up, or just about anything other than stuck in a small, lifeless, white-walled room. Of course, his cousins would tell him that painting his office and adding a plant might help, but he’d managed to ignore both their jibes and their decorating tips for several years now. Might as well keep on with his winning streak, if only to irritate them.
Sighing, he gave in to the inevitable and focused on his work. It was his own fault for cutting out early the day before to meet up with some friends to watch the local minor league baseball team get their asses kicked. He’d left paperwork undone, and he’d rather not have to face the pile next week. It was easier to handle it when the office was quiet.
Immersing himself in patient records, he updated files with notes from his exams the day before, went over inventory lists, and caught up on email. His muscles were starting to protest from sitting in one place for so long, but it was worth it to get everything squared away.
When the phone rang, he picked it up automatically before he remembered the office was closed for the long holiday weekend.
Well, damn.
Since he couldn’t hang up now, he put the receiver to his ear. “Wakefield Optometry.”
“Oh, thank God you answered.” The words rushed together, but the woman had to be a tourist. She didn’t have a scrap of local accent.
His eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
“I’m in town for a conference and my friend accidentally knocked my glasses off.”
Bingo. He gave himself a point for correctly pegging the out-of-towner.
She continued, “A car ran over them. You’re the only optometry office in the area who picked up. Is there an eye doctor in who can help me? I’m half-blind without my specs, and I forgot my backup pair.”
The brisk, no-nonsense way she spoke told him it was probably rare for this woman to ever be caught unprepared. He’d guess she was a forty-something executive who only cut loose when she was away from the office. Like here in Gatlinburg. Maybe not even then.
He let out a breath. He should say no. They weren’t open, but he was a sucker for a damsel in distress. Too many years of having good manners drummed into his head, especially when it came to his dealings with women. Welcome to being raised by a Southern belle. “You’re speaking to one of the optometrists, ma’am. We’re technically closed right now, but if you can make it over here soon, I’ll be happy to see what I can do to help.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” The line went dead as she hung up.
Nine minutes later, someone knocked on the front door. He rose from his chair to let the lady in, weaving through the display racks of eyeglass and sunglass frames. He flipped the lock and opened the door. When he got a good look at her, he blinked.
Whoa, had he been wrong. He deducted ten points for the forty-something guess. This woman was probably in her late twenties and…lovely.
She smiled at him, and attraction hit him right in the gut. Boom.
“Hi, I’m Camille Kirby.” She held out a hand and he took it automatically, feeling a buzz of awareness sizzle up his arm.
Lord Almighty. He cleared his throat. “Dalton Wakefield.”
“I really appreciate you seeing me, Dr. Wakefield.” She squinted at him, letting him know he was a blur to her. She let go of his hand to step inside, brushing against him because he hadn’t stepped back when he should have.
“Not a problem, Ms. Kirby.” He shook himself, shut and relocked the door, and led the way to one of the exam rooms. “There’s some paperwork you need to fill out, and then we can get started.”
“Of course.” She fished around in her purse and came up with her wallet. “I have all my insurance information ready to go. Or cash if you’re not in my coverage network. I don’t care as long as I can see soon.”
He nodded and waved her into a chair. “Well, we aren’t a one-hour glasses place, but I can likely set you up with some temporary contact lenses. How long will you be in town?”
“I leave one week from today.” She took the clipboard and pen he offered her. “I’m counting down the minutes.”
Ouch. That couldn’t be good. Most folks didn’t want to leave Gatlinburg. “Not a good trip so far, huh?”
“It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.” She flashed that smile again before she brought the clipboard to within inches of her nose and started filling out the paperwork. “But thank you for making it a little better.”
“My pleasure.”
While she was busy, he took a moment to look his fill. He didn’t normally gawk at his patients, but he didn’t normally have such a visceral reaction when he first met a woman. She was petite, but curved in all the right places. Her dark red hair just brushed the tops of her shoulders, and the locks were a bit mussed. The lightest smattering of freckles decorated her cheekbones and nose. Adorable. That was how she looked, but the sharp intelligence in her hazel eyes was unmistakable. He doubted much got by this woman, with or without glasses on.
“Do I have something on my face, doc?”
Since freckles was an inappropriate answer, he said, “No, ma’am.”
A dimple tucked into her cheek, making her look even cuter, but her tone was brisk. “Then why are you staring? I can feel you watching me.”
Well, he’d hit that nail on the head, hadn’t he? She missed nothing, despite her claim to being half-blind without prescription lenses. “Just waiting for you to finish.”
“Sorry.” She glanced up, her nose wrinkling. “That probably came out touchier than I meant it to.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Especially since he had been staring. “You’re having a bad day.”
“Yes, I am. Thanks for understanding.” She signed her name at the bottom of the last page, set the clipboard down, lifted the clip to square the edges of the paper, and laid the pen precisely across the top so it was parallel to the clip. “I’m done with these.”
Anal retentive, much? He resisted the urge to mess up her organization, just to see how she reacted. Get a grip, Wakefield. This is a patient. He picked up the paperwork and scanned it.
He felt like a skeevy douche for noticing that she’d marked the box for single, and forced himself to focus on the pertinent medical information about her most recent eye exam, what kind of lenses she wore, if she’d ever had refractive surgery, prescription medications she took, and which ocular conditions she’d ever been diagnosed with, if any. Personal and family medical history. Nothing looked abnormal or worrying, just a standard exam needed for a new prescription, as she’d said.
He glanced up. “Under occupation, it says you’re a software engineer.”
“There are a few of us with vaginas, yes,” she chirped.
He snorted. “I’ll take your word for it.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry, I’m too used to fielding incredulous-slash-misogynist questions about my profession. Is my being a software engineer a problem?”
“Not so much.” He set the clipboard aside. “I was just going to ask if you spend a lot of time looking at computer screens. If so, do you experience any headaches or blurry vision?”
“Oh. Wow.” She slapped her forehead. “Now I feel like an even bigger jerk.”
“Don’t. This is the most entertaining exam I’ve ever had.” He couldn’t hold back a grin. “Most of my patients don’t discuss their vaginas with me.”
She made a sympathetic face. “They save that for the gynecologist, huh?”
Leaning a little closer, he replied with mock gravity, “I chose the wrong field, clearly.”
“I bet it gets boring after a while. Like, ‘oh another va-jay-jay. Yawnfest’.” She faked a yawn for emphasis.
He laughed outright at that, realizing he was flirting and enjoying it thoroughly. It had been a good long while since he’d done that. “That would be a sad state of affairs, wouldn’t it?”
Nodding, she lifted her hands. “Best stick to optometry.”
“No doubt.” The truth was, he’d never questioned what profession to pursue. His uncle started this practice decades ago, and Dalton had worked here during every summer break in high school, so he’d figured out young this was what he wanted to do.
“I don’t have headaches or blurry vision.” She linked her fingers in her lap. “I try to take breaks and look away from the screen regularly.”
“Good. That’s exactly what you should do.”
They traded quips throughout the exam, and it surprised him how…comfortable…he was talking to her. He was an introvert by nature, and meeting new people wasn’t usually his idea of a good time. Luckily, in Gatlinburg, there were very few residents he didn’t know fairly well. One of the many hazards—and benefits—of small-town Southern living.
When he was done, he went to fetch the correct contacts. “These should last you for the week. I can order glasses and have them shipped to your home address, so they would hopefully meet you there, but you’d lose out on having our optician fit them for you.”
“I think I’ll wait and have my optometry office in California take care of me.” She accepted the little containers holding the contacts. “I’ve never had a pair of glasses just go on and not need at least some adjusting to fit right.”
“Do you need help putting those in?” He set a mirror on a stand in front of her.
She shook her head and grimaced. “No, I’m familiar with the torture routine.”
An accurate description, in his personal and professional opinion. “I completely understand. I got Lasik so I could stop dealing with it.”
“I actually don’t mind wearing glasses.” She shrugged. “It’s a funky fashion statement I can make without having to put much effort into it.”
“What did your old glasses look like?”
She made a mournful face and pulled a case out of her bag. He took the case and flipped open the top, cringing at the crushed mess. The rectangular frames had been chunky teal plastic, a combination that complemented her skin, hair, and face shape. They’d have looked good with her hazel eyes—which were a lovely mixture of blues and greens, grays and golds. Beautiful. She had good taste, if a little quirky. It took a confident woman to pull this kind of frame off, and he liked that about her.
After taking the case back, she tucked her broken glasses back into her purse and focused her attention on the mirror. She opened her eyes wide and popped the first lens in. Flinching, she shut both eyes for a moment. “Shit, piss, motherfucker. It’s like having a rock in your eyeball.”
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Not because he thought her misery was funny, but because most of his patients didn’t express their misery so colorfully. At least not in his presence. “Are you sure you don’t need—”
“Doc, I would likely kick you in the nuts if you tried to do this to me,” she stated grimly. “It’s best I handle it myself. At least then I have no one else to blame.”
“Or kick.”
The dimple tucked into her cheek again. “That too.”
Muttering to herself, she managed to get the second lens in and sat there blinking rapidly.
“Lean your head back.” He grabbed a bottle of eye drops, cupped the nape of her neck, and squeezed a few drops into each eye.
And all he could think was damn, she smells nice. Her floral shampoo teased his nostrils, along with some sweet scent that seemed to be uniquely hers. Silky strands of her hair slipped between his fingers, making him reluctant to release her. She turned her head to meet his gaze, and her lips were an inch from his. Want gripped his gut and it was all he could do not to close the distance and kiss her. The thought of her walking out of this office and him never seeing her again was suddenly unbearable.
“Would you like to have coffee?”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Just as he was about to retract the question, he clamped his lips shut. Once she left, she wasn’t his patient anymore, and then there was no reason for them to see each other. She’d disappear and this potential vibrating between them would disappear with her. He didn’t want that. Meeting someone he could joke with so easily, so quickly, who was lovely and funny and made his blood heat…hell, that almost never happened. He couldn’t just let her go without trying to see if she was interested in spending a little more time together.