When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

“As promised, we’re at a local high school, checking out their sports program. With temperatures often over one hundred degrees, many of you are asking why the football team would hold practice today. Others are remembering their own high-school football days and beginning of the school year practices. And we’re all asking today on Ask the Doc, ‘Is it safe for our teens to physically exert themselves in this heat?’”

Before Eva could launch into her opinion, her cameraman pulled from her and changed his focus.

Eva turned to see where his lens now pointed. Mark was squatting down, looking into the faces of the boys on the bench, who had taken off their shoulder pads.

The rest of the boys, also sans shoulder pads, did crunches on the field as their coaches walked among them.

One of the coaches barked an order and they all rolled over for push-ups.

The producer pointed at her and mouthed, low enough her microphone wouldn’t pick it up, “Ready.”

She gave a silent nod and put on her media face once again.

“As you can see behind me, the boys on this team are monitored for dehydration and overheating. There are many heat-related conditions that can occur. Among the most dangerous is heatstroke, which can result in brain damage and even death.”

“That’s a cut.”

She nodded, satisfied. She’d left herself a good transition. Once in the studio and on set, she could go into the various signs and symptoms of heat cramp and heat exhaustion and the emergency medical actions to take. The information would be accompanied by several of the brightly colored bullet-point charts and visual presentations her audiences grasped so well.

Possessiveness swamped her. She’d worked hard to develop the show into an educational yet entertaining program. And now she had to share with a man who couldn’t even be counted on to stand still long enough for a three-minute field interview.

Mark trotted back towards Eva, frowning at the crew, who were packing up. He glanced at his bare wrist for the watch he never wore. Time in the E.R. went at its own pace and no amount of ticking second hands could speed it up or slow it down.

Apparently, television didn’t work like the real world.

“I missed it?”

She looked down her nose at him as only a tall woman could. “You missed it.”

“I was only gone a few minutes.”

“We only needed a few minutes of footage. Now the crew has to go back to the studio and do edits, sound adjustments, tie-ins to tomorrow’s show, the whole bit.” She gave him a patronizing smile. “You can’t be expected to know any of this with your lack of experience.”

She was right. But it still stung.

That drive to be the one in the know, to be top of his class, to handle whatever was thrown at him was the inner force that made him focus when his world was in total chaos around him. He knew how to win.

But he also knew how to be gracious. Experience had taught him that.

“I’m hoping to learn a lot from you.”

She tilted her head sideways, studying him. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Nothing to figure out.” He held his arms out wide. “What you see is what you get.”

“That’s it? Surface deep?” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Shallow?”

“Woman, you can twist words better than any fancy Southern lawyer I’ve ever known.”

“I just call ’em like I see ‘em.”

“There are some men who like their women sharp-witted and sharp-tongued.”

“But you’re not one of them?”

“I didn’t say that.” He fought hard to keep the grin off his face. That was exactly how he liked his women.

But his ex was a fancy Southern lawyer. And Mark did learn from experience, especially bad experiences.

“So what are you saying?”

“Just that I plan to get as much as I can out of this television gig. Never can tell when the experience will come in handy.”

A very large teen came loping up the hill. Eva was almost certain he was the boy who’d been sent off the field.

“Hey, Uncle Mark. All-you-can-eat pizza tonight, right? Ready to go?”

Mark gave him a thumbs-up. “I’m ready. I just hope the pizza parlor is ready for us.”

Eva squinted at the boy. He was almost as tall and just as wide as Mark. The family resemblance was strong.

As Aaron got closer to her, she saw a glassy glint in his eye that she’d seen before, a glint that promised unpredictability and that made her instinctively brace herself for whatever action the boy might take. “Aaron, say hello to Dr. Veracruz.”

“Hi.” The boy held out a huge, sweaty palm to shake her hand.

Eva fought back her natural instinct to withdraw, to protect herself.

Face your fears, Eva. That’s what her husband would say to her. But, then, she’d never been frightened when Chuck had been around. Experience had taught her differently.

She grasped his hand firmly in her own. “Nice to meet you.”

Aaron squeezed the slightest bit too tight, like a boy who wasn’t used to his own strength. Common enough at his age, right?

Eva tried to quell her worries. Maybe she was reading her own fear into her snap judgment.

And that’s why she’d pulled herself out of the field of drug and substance abuse care. Her judgment, so critical for making evaluations, was too clouded by personal emotion to be trusted.

“So, Doc, you want to eat pizza with Uncle Mark and me?”

Mark clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “No one could accuse my nephew of being shy.”

“No, he’s certainly not shy.”

Mark added his own invitation. “So how about it? It’s just pizza.”

She was usually so good with snap decisions—but that had been before. She’d promised her sister-in-law she’d embrace life in all its aspects, including enjoying the company of nice, respectful men. They all agreed her husband would never have wanted her to wallow in her widowhood.

And the deep, gut-wrenching sadness had faded, leaving lonely nostalgia behind.

“Afraid you’ll fall for my charm and wit?”

“No.” Maybe. Eva wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Her sister-in-law would say Eva was afraid of risking her heart again. But it was only pizza.

“No? That’s it? Nothing to soften the blow?”

“Somehow I think your ego is healthy enough to survive.”

Aaron rubbed his hand across his brow. “I don’t know about that, Doc. His divorce hit him pretty hard.”

Mark glared at his nephew as he brushed him on the back of the head. “No one could accuse my nephew of being discreet either.”

Aaron shrugged, looking confused. “Just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.” He dug in his pocket and handed his nephew the car keys. “I’m parked in visitor parking. Pull the truck around to the stadium parking lot—and don’t pull out onto the street. Don’t race the engine. Don’t—”

“Don’t breathe wrong. I got it.” With a tight jaw Aaron snagged the keys then took off at an irritated run.

What turned the tide on her decision? Was it the glimpse of vulnerability and sadness she’d seen in Mark’s eyes? Or was it the way his biceps flexed. Either way, she said, “Fine. I’ll come.”

Now Mark narrowed his gaze at her. “I don’t need a pity date.”

“That’s good since I don’t do pity dates. I only do pepperoni, extra onions.”

“Extra onions? You don’t do goodnight kisses either, then, do you?”

“Never on a first date to a pizza parlor.”

“Is it the venue? You need a more upscale wine-and-dinery?”

“Nope. It’s the first date thing. Why waste a good kiss if I’m not sure about a second date yet?”

“Right. Because kisses are in limited supply?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Mine are rare, which makes them extremely valuable.”

“Then I’ll treasure them properly, should I ever decide to accept one.”

“Should you decide?” She gave him her best smoldering look along with a very deliberate lip lick. “I could make you beg.”

“I’d like to see you try.” His answer was flippant but the widening of his pupils told another story. Eva would bet anything his pulse was racing.

At least she wasn’t lusting alone. She found herself leaning forward, as if she were being sucked toward him.

The moment was so on the verge she forgot she was standing on a high-school athletic field until a half-dozen cheerleaders walked past, giggling and posturing for the boys, who were obviously waiting for them.

Aaron honked the horn, waving to the girls. One broke free from the gaggle to wander over to where he hung out of the truck window.

“Yours?” she called to him as she pointed to the truck.

“My uncle lets me drive it whenever I want to.”

The girl propped one hand on her hip, emphasizing the shortness of her cheerleading skirt. “Nice. Give me a ride?”

Even from a distance Eva could interpret the scowl Aaron sent Mark. “I didn’t bring my license today.”

She twirled her finger into her hair. “Bring it tomorrow and I’ll let you drive me home.”

The girl gave a saucy toss of her hair then turned to walk back toward her friends. Three steps away, she stopped and looked over her shoulder to make sure Aaron was watching her.

He was.

Sotto voce, Mark said, for Eva’s ears only, “He doesn’t have his license. I’m not sure how I can help him save face on this one.”

“Some things a man has to learn how to do for himself.” It’s what her husband had said whenever she’d wanted to save her brother from himself.

Mark gave her an irritated, challenging look before taking a step away from her. “What would you know about that?”

Now two men needed their egos stroked.

All she’d agreed to was pizza.

“Tell you what, Mark. I’ll drive my own car and meet you there.”

As she walked away, Eva resisted the pull to look over her shoulder to see if Mark was watching her walk away.

But she did indulge in a come-hither hair-twirl.

CHAPTER THREE

EVA WALKED BACK to her car, amazed at herself. What had just happened to her? She hadn’t flirted like that since—since high school?

But it had felt so good.

Chuck. Now the feelings of disloyalty hit her.

Not that Chuck wouldn’t want her to move on with her life.

Chuck had never indulged in flirting. One of the hazards of dating and then marrying an older man, she’d always thought.

Older man—ha!

Chuck had been younger than Mark when they’d started dating all those years ago. At her ripe old age of eighteen she’d thought him much older at eight years her senior.

He had given her the security she’d craved, the safety she’d needed, and the love she’d worked so hard to return in equal measure. Even if that had meant suppressing her wild side to fit into Chuck’s world.

He’d never asked her to change. But she had, thinking she owed it to him to become a part of his straight-up world.

But now Chuck was gone and all she was left with was her own world, a world she could define any way she wanted to, if she only had the courage.

Eva squared her shoulders.

“Bring it on,” she said to the universe at large.

You’re the only one who can hold you back, she heard, as if Chuck were sitting next to her.

She smiled, hearing the wisdom in the words Chuck would have said to her.

She thought about Mark. Thought about the flirting. Thought about the way she’d felt so alive as she’d teased and sparred. Thought about what could happen next.

And tried to bury all her angst, all her worry and fear of being hurt again. Tried to be brave, as she said aloud, “Let’s do this.”

A strong sense of approval passed through her, leaving her feeling warm inside.

While the logical part of Mark regretted asking Eva to join him, his baser libido couldn’t help watching her backside swing as she made her way to her car.

It was a little convertible. Black. Impractical with the frequent storms and the excessive heat of New Orleans, but it fit her.

Was she as impractical as her car? At first glance, a man might think so. But the intelligence behind those heavily mascaraed eyelashes made him cautious about underestimating her.

With the hard lessons his ex-wife had given him about the dangers of a beautiful woman with brains, anyone would think he’d turn and walk—no, run—in the opposite direction. Apparently, he was a slow learner.

Still, who was she to offer parenting advice? She had no children. None listed in her bio, anyway.

But she did have gorgeous child-bearing hips.

He walked up to the driver’s side of his truck, opened the door and motioned Aaron out.

“Let me drive, Uncle Mark. Just up to the pizza place.”

Here came the hard part of parenting. The tough-love part. “No way. You blew that privilege out of the water.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

That was the statement Aaron kept repeating over and over. Not his fault. And that was the attitude that kept Mark worried about his nephew. Being too immature to own his transgressions meant the boy was too immature to learn from his mistakes.

Mark didn’t let the remark go unchecked. He’d tried that before and Aaron had taken the silent approach to mean his uncle had believed him.

“That’s right, Aaron. Those other boys tackled you and poured beer down your throat and there was nothing you could do about it. And then they forced you to get into that car and drive twenty miles over the speed limit with police cars behind you flashing their lights for over a half mile before one finally pulled in front of you and made you pull over.”

Mark gave Aaron his best sarcastic cynicism, one of the few tones of voice Aaron seemed to listen to. “So what part of that wasn’t your fault?”

Instead of hanging his head in shame, as he had first done when the whole incident had happened, Aaron glared at his uncle. The fierce anger in his eyes gave Mark real worry.

What was happening to that chubby-cheeked little boy his sister had given birth to seventeen years ago?

Silently, Aaron turned to stare out the window, his jaw jutting, his forehead creased, fury in every line of his body.

Mark knew all about being a teenager with a new stepfather in the house. The clashing of two male egos made for a lot of angst and anger.

But Mark had taken all his pent-up energy to the football field and had left it there, thanks to a few great coaches who had taught their players as many life lessons as sports plays.

Still, he’d said too many things he still regretted and it was now too late to apologize to his mother and his stepfather, the man who had done his best to make her happy.

That’s why he’d volunteered to take Aaron into his home. To try to make amends for his own youth.

Maybe he was looking back through self-forgiving lenses, but he didn’t remember being as cruel and as crude as Aaron had been to his mother. The boy showed no respect. And Mark’s meek, mild sister didn’t know how to command it.

What would Eva do? She was a talk-show host. She’d probably try to talk reason to the boy.

Mark had talked until his throat ached. If the right words existed to get through to Aaron, Mark certainly didn’t know them.

Somehow he didn’t think Eva would put up with the poor behavior his sister accepted. There was something in the set of her jaw and the directness of her gaze.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Aaron’s scowl morphed into one of anticipation. The boy couldn’t get enough food.

Even though the pizza buffet offered all-you-can-eat servings, Mark felt like he should pay for two meals for Aaron.

As a physician, Mark had seen a lot of adolescent growth spurts and Aaron’s ranked at the top of the charts.

While Aaron was growing taller, he was growing wider at a faster rate. Football and independent workouts in the weight room were turning all his new-found weight into muscle. When his size caught up to his breadth, the boy would be an imposing young man. He had to get that raging temper of his under control before then.

But Aaron’s mercurial mood had turned into all smiles when he piled out of the truck and headed toward the group of cheerleaders who were waiting outside the door of the pizza place for the boys to show up.

He felt his own mood turn into anticipation once he spotted Eva opening her car door. Her skirt rode up to show off her long, athletic legs as she climbed from the low-slung car.

He hurried over to give her a hand, giving him a chance to get an up-close look at the silky skin her skirt exposed.

When he ran his hands up and down those thighs, he knew they would feel as smooth and firm as they looked. And her hands on him would feel—

He’d thought he’d outgrown his teenage impulsiveness, but around Eva his libido was still at its pubescent peak.

She took his outstretched palm, sending pulses straight to his primal brain center and setting off a chain reaction.

He pulled her up a little too hard, a little too strong, knocking her off balance on those teetering heels.

When she put her other hand on his chest to steady herself she set his heart beating so strongly she couldn’t help but feel it even through his shirt.

Her nails were trim and unpolished. Medical-practice standards. He’d expected a fancy manicure like—

But Eva wasn’t his ex, who had indulged in having her nails done at least once a week.

He hadn’t spent this much time thinking about his ex since the divorce had been finalized. Why now?

And why was he comparing Eva to her?

Because he was trying to find a reason to steer clear of Eva. Judging Eva against another woman wasn’t fair to her. He wouldn’t want to be compared to another man. He owed it to her to find out who she really was.

“Sorry.” Eva jerked her hand back from Mark’s chest.

She almost fell backwards as she tried to right herself.

He put his arm around her, pulling her close to steady her.

What was it about him that kept her so off balance?

He was strong enough, big enough to keep them both on their feet, which was saying a lot. She was not some delicate little daisy of a woman. Few men could handle her so easily.

She had felt this secure in Chuck’s arms, too.

“Sorry,” she repeated as she pushed away, this time more cautiously even though she wanted to quickly put distance between herself and that intense, pulsing energy Mark exuded before she lost more than her balance.

Common sense was hard to come by when in the arms of such a testosterone-laden man.

He was full of life, she could feel it in him.

She’d always liked the type of man who lived life to the fullest. Until that kind of living had got her husband killed.

While she had promised herself that she would honor Chuck’s memory by going on with life, she hadn’t promised to fall for the same kind of guy.

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