“Too expensive. We all don’t have your bank roll, Reyes.” She saw his eyes spark in further irritation, so she spoke before he could rebut her. “What about at my place? I know it’s not Buena Vista Drive, but I enjoy entertaining there. It’s large enough for a party, but intimate and comfortable, as well.”
“Where do you live?” he asked slowly.
“On Sandcastle Lane.”
“How long have you lived there?”
She thought while she chewed and swallowed. “A couple of years now.”
“So, you and the kids moved there after your husband died?”
“The house on Fifth Street was too large for just the three of us,” she replied. She wasn’t normally uncomfortable talking about Darin, but something about doing so with Eric made her stomach flutter nervously. In order to sidetrack him from pursuing the topic, she eyed his chicken tagine speculatively.
“Go on,” he said dryly, shoving his half-eaten lunch toward her. She skewered a piece of succulent chicken, popped it into her mouth and made a sound of appreciation. Eric chuckled. She grinned while she chewed.
“Never one to hold back, are you?” he mused. “Just as passionate about your likes as you are your dislikes. I admire that.”
Colleen paused in her chewing and swallowed. She set down her fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Thanks.” She took a sip of water, a smile lingering on her mouth.
“What?” Eric asked, his sharp eyes noticing her repressed grin.
“Nothing,” Colleen murmured. He continued to stare at her, one eyebrow cocked in a query. “It’s just that you praise my passionate temperament in such a cool, levelheaded manner.”
“So you think I’m cold? Dispassionate?” he stated more than asked.
Yet again, she blushed. His seemingly bland questions had brought to mind that kiss on Sunset Beach.
No. She was far from thinking Eric was cold.
“I wouldn’t say you’re cold. Just…analytical. That’s just the impression I’ve gotten in your work at The Family Center.” When she noticed his scowl, she added quickly, “I’m not complaining. I’ve had reason to be thankful my son possesses a surgeon with such a precise, logical brain.” She was increasingly feeling the need to escape when he didn’t say anything, just continued to pin her with a stare that made her want to squirm. She checked her watch.
“Speaking of Brendan, we better get going if we still want to pick out the invitations.”
“You don’t really believe I’m a walking robot, do you?” he asked.
Her eyes widened slightly. Damn. Had he read her mind again?
On one occasion last year, Eric had taken over the job of The Family Center’s regular physician while Dr. McIntosh was on vacation. Eric had refused to fill an anti-anxiety medication for Barney Glendan, a patient of Colleen’s with a concurrent history of substance abuse and panic disorder. Eric insisted the pill was mildly habit-forming. Colleen had gone to battle with him. Eric had never once lost his calm. His methodical explanation of why he wouldn’t prescribe the medication had infuriated Colleen. Barney had been on the medication for years to good result and had remained sober just as long. She’d told Eric in no uncertain terms that his medical decision was completely counterproductive to the patient’s health given his history of sobriety and compliance. She’d contacted Dr. McIntosh and had him fill the prescription, much to Eric’s irritation. Colleen had stood firm, however. Nobody, not even the brilliant Eric Reyes, stood in the way of her patients’ well-being. Later, as she’d driven home, she had called him an insufferable, arrogant robot.
But, of course, Eric didn’t need to know that.
She closed her notebook and shoved it along with her pen into her purse.
“I do not think you’re a robot. Some people are ruled by logic, some by their emotions. That hardly makes you a robot,” she said crisply.
“Uh-huh,” he muttered, his tone leading her to believe he knew he was being placated. He swiped the check from beneath her fingers when she grabbed for it. “The thing that really bothers you—”
“I never said I was bothered by anything—”
“—isn’t that I’m analytic or cold,” he continued, ignoring her defense and tossing some bills on the table. “It’s that you recognize we’re a lot alike.”
Colleen snorted. She couldn’t help it. “Alike? Us?”
He just nodded calmly, completely unaffected by her scorn. “We’re both opinionated. We’re both driven. We both fight for our patients’ well-being. We’re both known for being stubborn.” He stood.
“Oh, that’s your brilliant analysis of the situation, is it?” Colleen asked, half-irritated, half-amused, as she slid out of the booth. “Well, you may be brilliant, but you’re dead wrong.”