Up For Review:
Between Love and Life (Excerpt)
The following is an excerpt from a much longer story (too long to put in the FT.) There is no actual sex in this part, but rather the slow build up of attraction between the two main characters. Is it too slow? Does it have any sizzle? Is it believable? These are some of the things I'm wondering. A little background info: The story begins with an emergency scene where a pregnant woman has been in a car accident. The woman's baby is delivered to save both their lives. Her husband was killed in the accident. The story is really about the woman's brother (an artist) and the neonatologist that saves the baby's life.
Maggie meandered behind the green leather couch, taking in the view from the floor-to-vaulted-ceiling window. The mid-autumn sun shone brightly on the group of trees lining either side of a running creek. The colors of the leaves had already begun to work their way through the Crayola box in shades of burnt sienna, goldenrod, and rust. The view was picturesque enough to inspire even the simplest of artists. A thick Viburnum grew close to his house; the burning bush was ablaze with color. It reminded her of an aged Merlot and of Matt's pottery. That thought was sifting through her mind as he returned from the kitchen.
"I wasn't sure what you like in your tea." Matt carried a tray holding two glasses of iced tea and a sugar bowl, along with a few packets of sugar substitute. He set it on the glass top of the coffee table.
Maggie pulled her gaze away from the magnificent view in time to see the lean muscles of Matt's forearms as he set the tray down. "I ...uh, I just like a little sweetener," she stuttered, trying to remember if she'd ever noticed bunching muscles in a man's forearms before now.
"So, you like what you see?" Matt asked as he nodded toward the window.
Maggie gazed at Matt, wanting to shout, oh yeah! But she held back. She looked outside again. "It's gorgeous. You're lucky to have such a great view."
"Yes, I am."
She heard a shift in Matt's voice and turned to see his eyes canvassing her. A hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. Her heart pounded. He approached her. Her breath hitched. She blinked, trying to focus on something besides his full lower lip and her body's traitorous response. She glanced up at his eyes. It was a mistake. Lord! He had great eyes, such a clear color of blue surrounded by those thick, blond lashes.
"Matt, I shouldn't have come here," she said as she stepped backward.
"Why, Maggie? What's wrong?" He stopped advancing, but when their eyes connected, Maggie felt like the space between them closed a little more.
"It's a matter of ethics," Maggie offered and then paused to gather her thoughts. "Something about dating a family member of a patient seems wrong." She battled with her reasoning even as she said it aloud. Matt wasn't Jack's father. He was just the baby's uncle. But still, if she were involved with Matt, would she lose her objectivity about Jack's care? Could another physician perceive her objectivity had been compromised?
Matt sighed. "We've already had this discussion. I told you I didn't care about that!"
"But I care," She didn't want it to matter, but it did. "I can't pretend that it doesn't bother me."
Matt threw his hands up in the air and turned away from her. He grabbed a glass of tea and slung back half a glass before turning around to face her again. "Maggie, we're both single adults. We're not doing anything wrong."
"It could appear that we are."
"By who? People at the hospital? Bureaucrats?" Matt raked his hand through his hair before continuing. "Do you honestly care that much what people think?"
"I can't disregard what people think, Matt."
"But you can let them run your personal life?" Matt scowled.
Maggie bristled at that. She wasn't letting anyone run her life, including Matt Sylvanus. "I make my own decisions," she said.
He stood with one leg bent at the knee, in an almost casual pose, but his brow was furrowed, and his clenched fists dug into his jean's pockets. He was definitely upset. But darn it, so was she!
"I know you're attracted to me, Maggie. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me. I can hear it in your voice." Matt stopped. His face softened as his hands came out in front of him, palms up. "But mostly, Maggie, I can feel it in the warmth that spreads through me when we touch."
Maggie nearly melted. She couldn't deny she found Matt attractive. Who wouldn't, with his lopsided dimple and those piercing blue eyes? But was physical attraction worth risking her career? She didn't think so. Still, Maggie knew there was something between them, something extraordinary. She knew it from the first when they shook hands in the hospital. She couldn't define it. She had nothing to compare it to. She'd never felt that way before, and that scared her to death. She needed to get away before she did something she regretted.
Maggie rushed to the door before he could say anything else. "I have to go." She looked over her shoulder to add, "Thanks for the tea." Matt stood frozen like a pleading statue, with his hands, still palms up, in front of him. She almost lost her resolve to leave. Almost.
"Mag ..."
She heard his voice echo through the door as she closed it, but she ignored it. She ran to the car before she realized the keys were in her purse, and her purse was still inside. "Geez! Brilliant exit, Maggie," she said aloud before slowly turning to walk back to Matt's house. That was the problem with dramatic exits - they left no room for mistakes.
Maggie looked at her reflection in the paned glass of Matt's door. A quick once over wasn't going to wash away her look of chagrin.
The door opened. Matt stood poised with Maggie's blue leather purse slung over his shoulder. "Forget something?" he asked with a smile.
"It compliments your eyes," Maggie retorted. "Maybe you should keep it. Just give me the keys."
As Matt drew the purse off his shoulder, he pleaded with Maggie, "C'mon, finish your tea, and let's talk about this, please?"
Maggie hesitated. Her feet were cemented to the porch. It would be so much easier to just walk away, leaving no chance for impropriety and no complicated relationship to muck up her routine. Matt's fingers grazed Maggie's as he handed the purse to her. A tingling sensation lingered at the spot where he'd touched. Leaving now also left no chance to find out why she nearly melted when they touched. She ignored the buzzing in her head and - like a Pied Piper rat - followed him back into his house.
Maggie tried to sit stiffly on the edge of the couch, but the leather was too soft and she nearly fell to the floor, so she scooted comfortably against the back. Matt handed her the glass of iced tea and then sat on the far end of the couch, away from her. Maggie was mildly disappointed but chastised herself. Distance was what she wanted, wasn't it?
They sat in silence.
Matt peered over the top of his iced tea glass. "Would you like to take a stab at ending this awkward silence or shall I?"
"I'm not sure what to say, exactly." Maggie set her glass on the table and began finger-ironing imaginary wrinkles in her skirt.
"You could start by telling me why women are always so concerned about appearances."
"That's a little chauvinistic, don't you think?"
"It could only be chauvinistic if it weren't true."
"I think the fact that it's an exaggeration makes it chauvinistic. Besides if men didn't worry so much about appearances, then why the big deal about baldness?"
"Ah, but if men cared about appearances, they wouldn't adopt those horrible comb-over-dos."
Maggie looked at Matt's hair. He wasn't balding, but when he ran his hand through his hair, as if to reassure himself, she giggled. She couldn't help it.
"I think they call that denial," she said
His face broke out into one of those grins that Maggie was really starting to adore. His lopsided dimple was more potent than a hypnotist's watch. The quivering in her belly sobered her up quickly. She grabbed her iced tea and swallowed hard.
"OK, Maggie but why do you care what the suits at the hospital think?"
"Because I worked damn hard to get where I am today, and no matter how much we think we've progressed, women doctors do not get into an all boy's club very easily."
"So you're willing to cow-tow to them, just so you can be one of them?"
"It isn't like that." Maggie's face was prickling. She could feel the heat, and knew she was flushed. She absently put the cool iced-tea glass against her cheek.
Matt scooted closer, close enough to take the glass from her hand and set it on the table. Maggie tried to think about her ire and not how close he'd moved. She startled at his touch against her skin. Suddenly it was impossible to think about anything, except his hand, as he wiped condensation that had been left on her cheek.
"Hold on, Doc. Don't be angry with me. I can be pretty thickheaded at times." Matt slid his hand off her face and let it hang in the air between them.
Maggie tried to look away, tried not to see his hand suspended just above her breast or think about how electric even that small caress to her cheek had been. But the kindling of a familiar fire began to burn, and she looked right into his eyes as she spoke.
"And I can be a fiery red-head at times."
"I like the color red, remember?" He stared right back at her.
Silence baited the emotional atmosphere until Maggie thought if she breathed any heavier, her breast would reach his hand on its own accord. She glanced down. His eyes followed hers. He lowered his hand slowly, almost teasingly as they both watched his fingers barely miss a jutting nipple before coming to rest on top of her hands. This time Maggie didn't draw back from the warmth of his touch.
"Imagine all the things we can learn about someone just by their hands." He said as he took hold of her hand. "For instance ..."
She allowed him to work his fingers between hers, growing more familiar with the onslaught of heat. It wasn't normal body heat, she was sure of that. It was more like dipping your hand into a hot paraffin bath. First the heat, followed by tingling, and then the smooth feel of enclosure as Matt clasped his hand tightly around hers. Each finger entwined, slowly, palm met palm, and the tiny hairs along the back of his hand tickled the pads of her fingertips.
Maggie looked up from their hands and met his gaze. "For instance?" Her nerve endings thrummed where they connected to his touch.
He released his grip and flattened Maggie's hand on top of his. With his other hand he traced up the length of each finger and over each nail bed. She shivered.
"I can tell by looking at your nails that you keep them short and you care enough to keep them shaped. But the lack of polish tells me you aren't fanatical about it."
"Maybe I just didn't have time this morning." Maggie tried to sound flippant; all the while her mind swirled as his fingertips danced across her hand.
"Maybe, but the nails are too shiny, as if they've been buffed."
Maggie was surprised he would know something like that. Men usually weren't so observant. At least none of the men she'd known.
"I grew up with a sister, remember?" he said, reading her mind. He sandwiched her flattened hand between his hands and gently rubbed before turning her hand over, palm up. He used his index finger to sketch along the deeper lines of her palm.
"Don't tell me you read palms?"
"Are you a cynic, Maggie?" Matt traced each line from beginning to end, with feathery touches, again and again.
She watched hypnotically as he caressed the surface of her palm. "I'm not sure what I believe." Maggie tried to keep her hand steady and her voice from sounding breathy. She wasn't sure she wanted Matt knowing how her body was reacting.
"No, I don't read palms. If I did, I'd know which line was your heart line and I'd start with it instead of here." Matt brought her wrist to his mouth and gingerly kissed over her pulse point. Soft little kisses with his lips barely touching her skin.
Tiny stabs of electricity speared up Maggie's arm. She couldn't remember having her wrists kissed. It was unbelievably erotic. She'd burn alive if he kept it up.
But he didn't, he opened his mouth and licked the center of her palm and then lazily licked up each digit. He lingered at the gap between her fingers and then moved to her fingertips.
Maggie was sure she'd burn alive. It felt too good to ask him to stop, but the intimacy of it screamed that she should. Matt sucked the tip of her index finger into his mouth. She felt the rhythmic tugs all the way to her stomach. Sensation won out over thought.
"Ohh," was all Maggie could say.
He sucked the tips of every finger, and she let him. By the time he'd finished with the last finger, Maggie's heart was palpitating. Her nerves were vibrating. She was jittery, and her insides were mush.
"Your hands are sensitive."
Maggie had never known how much.
"You wash them frequently, I can smell the soap. You wear cologne that leans more toward floral scents." Matt continued to hold Maggie's hand as he spoke. "And I think you're badly in need of a full body licking."
Maggie felt dreamy and tried to focus on his dancing eyes. He'd guessed her cologne and said she had sensitive hands. That was nice. And that last part, what was it? Oh yes, in need of a full body ... "What did you say?" She jerked her hand from his; suddenly aware of how easily he had reduced her to a wistful schoolgirl. Oh, this man was good - practiced even.
"I said ..."
"Never mind! I heard what you said." Maggie was simmering now. "You think you can kiss my hand and I'll just gladly hop into bed with you?"
"Who said anything about hopping into bed?" Matt's grin was so wide, Maggie could have counted his teeth. "But now that you mention it ..." Matt sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest.
"Oh, you're smooth, aren't you Mr. Sylvanus?"
"Not as smooth as the skin on the inside of your wrist."
The grin on Matt's face widened, if that was possible, and his eyes shone with laughter. He was enjoying this! Maggie wanted to sock him in his lopsided dimple and knock that silly grin right off his face.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Maggie said.
"Yeah, I did! But Maggie ..." Matt's face went serious and his eyes darkened, "So did you."