Adored: A Love Letters Novel Read online

  “And if I had come in here as dejected and miserable as they had, you might have let me cry on your shoulder?”

  She looked at that magnificent specimen of a man. Relaxed, he slouched in the chair as if he owned the room. “You don’t look like you ever cry,” she said. She shut his file and slid it across the table into the huge pile of patient files she had seen that day. “Anyway, your blood tests are fine, and apparently there’s nothing else we need to talk about, so I guess we’re done.”

  A slow smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth.

  Vera blinked, and for a moment, forgot what she was going to say. She realized belatedly that she had not seen him smile before. She had certainly not anticipated its breathtaking impact.

  “Thank you.” He pushed up from his chair, his body unfolding with the sinewy grace of a jaguar. “Good meeting you, doctor…”

  “Rios.”

  He nodded and smiled again. The curve of his lips was warmer that time. “Dr. Rios.”

  Vera did not start breathing normally again until the door closed behind him. She sank into her chair, closed her eyes, and willed her heart back into a normal rhythm. Wow. What a man.

  It was a damned pity he was an escort. She might have asked for his number otherwise.

  Outside the clinic, Rowan slid into the driver’s seat of a red Audi, locked the door, and reached for his cell phone. He hit the first number on speed dial.

  Minutes later, Iris picked up on the other end. “Hello?”

  “Iris, it’s Rowan. How’s Jordan?”

  “Whiney and needy, like every male child even remotely under the weather since Cain was born to Adam and Eve. How did you know he was sick?”

  “Dr. Rios told me.”

  “Vera?” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, your appointment at the clinic. Damn, I forgot you were coming in today for the results of your once-in-a-decade physical.”

  “It’d be once-in-two-decades if my sister didn’t nag and insist on doing it herself.”

  “I’m sorry I missed our appointment.”

  “No worries. I had an interesting conversation with Dr. Rios. Vera.” Her name flowed off his tongue. It suited her—Dr. Vera Rios was both unpretentious and unconsciously exotic.

  “Why? Your blood test results came back fine.”

  “I’m sure they did. But instead of getting the rundown on watching my cholesterol levels and eating healthy, I got a lecture on STDs and safe sex.”

  “But why would she…oh my God. You told her you were an escort?” Iris’s voice rose to a screech.

  “She assumed it, actually.” Rowan laughed. It was easier to see the humor of the situation with sufficient distance between him and Vera. There was nothing in the world he found more sensually distracting than a beautiful Hispanic woman riding the moral high tide of righteous indignation.

  “And you didn’t correct her?”

  “Oh, she was on a roll. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Rowan! You have to go back and tell her the truth. I don’t want her to think my brother’s an escort.”

  “I didn’t give you away, sis. She doesn’t know we’re related. Besides, to some people, there’s not a whole lot of difference between modeling and prostitution. Maybe Vera’s one of those.”

  “Give her more credit. She’s not like that.” Iris sighed. “I hope you didn’t give her a hard time. She was just doing me a favor, covering my volunteer shift.”

  His conscience pricked him. “Do I ever give anyone a hard time?”

  “You do, sometimes. You should have been nice to her, Rowan. Between her divorce and the custody dispute, she’s had a lot of the stuffing knocked out of her in the past six months. She works and works, especially on weekends, because there’s nothing else for her to do when her daughter is with her ex. I think keeping busy keeps her from being depressed, but it’s a toss-up as to whether she’ll need Valium before she runs out of caffeine.”

  “And she still finds the time to preach to the fallen.”

  “And maybe you’ll lose that snotty tone when you find out why.”

  “Snotty? Who’s the snotty one? She took one look at me and assumed that I sold my body for money.”

  “Isn’t that what you do?” Iris asked pointedly.

  Rowan dragged his hand through his hair. He ground his teeth. “Apparently, you don’t see a whole lot of difference between modeling and prostitution, either. Perhaps we should have had this conversation seven years ago before I dropped out of school.”

  Iris sighed. “There’s a difference, of course. I’m sorry. She’s a good friend, and I just hate being caught between friends and family.”

  Rowan knew enough from his sister’s tone to change the topic. “Shall I still come over? I can grab a pizza, fried chicken, or wings on my way.”

  “No, we’re fine. If you’re here, Jordan will want to play Xbox with you all night instead of going to bed early, which is what he should do. Maybe tomorrow afternoon, before your flight back to New York.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “And you have a salad for dinner. Cholesterol.”

  “Yes, doctor.” With a smile, Rowan hung up on his sister. He relaxed into the plush leather upholstery of his rented car and stared at the clinic entrance. All right, perhaps he had been tough on Vera, but he had not been thinking straight.

  When he had stood at the door of the clinic and caught his first glimpse of her, his first thought had been “She’s lonely.” He was not sure how he had reached the conclusion. Her combination of long-lashed brown eyes and sultry, though unpainted, lips in a fine-featured face made her attractive, but in his line of work, surrounded by stunning people, raw good looks alone no longer moved him.

  Perhaps it was something less tangible. Long, wavy tendrils had come loose from her ponytail to frame her face. The overall effect was one of unconscious vulnerability. It softened her appearance and gave him a glimpse of the woman behind the professional façade.

  Far more likely, though, it was his gut reaction to something indefinable in her eyes. He was a model, after all, and in some ways, a consummate actor. His work demanded he convey emotion and mood entirely through the line of his body, the angle of his face, the curve of his lips, and the shadows in his eyes. He knew how to assess other people in a single glance, and something about Vera whispered her aching loneliness.

  He would have reacted with care, matching tenderness to her loneliness, but then she had gone off on him, and he had forgotten all his good intentions in the sheer delight of teasing her. There were few people more compelling or irresistible to Rowan than a vulnerable woman who did not know how strong she was.

  The door of the clinic opened, and several patients walked out. Maria, the receptionist, locked the door behind them and flipped the sign to “Closed.” He supposed Maria and Vera had final things to do before locking up the clinic; it couldn’t be too much longer. Within ten minutes, the door opened again, and Maria and Vera walked out together. Bereft of her shapeless white lab coat, Vera showed off a curvaceous, long-legged figure. Her clothes, a teal-colored blouse and denim jeans, were more casual than classy, but they suited the clean, simple image he was building up of her.

  He stepped out of his car and approached the two women. They spun around to stare at him. Maria’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Vera said nothing, but her eyes widened.

  Rowan flashed the smile that had secured his latest six-figure modeling contract. “Dr. Rios, I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

  Maria nudged Vera not-so-discreetly and scurried to her car, leaving Vera and Rowan staring at each other.

  “Uh, I…” Vera glanced down at her tote and shifted her weight, as if on the verge of running. When she looked up and met his gaze, the sparkle of humor in her eyes caught him off guard. “Just to be sure I can afford it, what is your…um…rate?”

  The truth about his profession stood on the tip of his tongue, but driven by a perversely wicked
streak of matching humor, he bit it back. “Let’s just say the first one’s on me.”

  “Really?”

  Rowan stepped forward and reached for her hand. She did not resist as he raised it to his lips. He kept his eyes on hers and observed her transition from wary hesitation to trembling anticipation as he breathed the promise of a kiss upon her knuckles. Her slender fingers quivered as he laced his fingers with hers, but she did not pull away. Their hands fit well together; perhaps it was a lucky omen.

  For a moment, Rowan forgot that his only intention was to give a lonely woman a wonderful night on the town. He gestured to his car. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

  She glanced at her car, a sedate silver Honda Accord, and then at his firecracker red Audi. “I…”

  He supposed that healthy caution was not a bad thing for a woman. “I’m not in the habit of hurting women. Remember, escorts only get paid if the woman is alive and happy after the date.”

  She pressed her lips together. It could have been a nervous gesture, but a corner of her mouth quirked upward. If he had to hazard a guess, he would have pegged her as amused rather than concerned.

  “You could call Iris,” he suggested. “Ask for a reference.” He had to work to conceal his smile. His sister would be livid, but he knew Iris well enough to suspect that she would actually play along, just for laughs. After all, no one was getting hurt.

  “I guess I will,” Vera said. She tugged her hand free and walked a short distance away before reaching into her bag for her cell phone.

  Rowan leaned against his car, his tongue tucked into his cheek, and braced for an evening that was going to be a great deal more entertaining than he had anticipated.

  Chapter 3

  Vera searched her cell phone directory for Iris’s number, but stopped short of calling it. What was the point? Rowan was obviously confident of receiving a positive referral from Iris, and it could mean anything from something as fundamental as “He’s not going to rape you and kill you” to the truly important things like “He’s a demigod in the bedroom.”

  Vera turned her back on Rowan to hide her sudden blush and held up the phone to her ear to fake a private phone conversation. Could Iris say anything that could change her mind?

  Probably not, she decided. She lingered on the fake phone call for a few moments longer before slipping her cell phone back into her bag and walking toward Rowan. “All right, I’m in.”

  He held the car door open for her. “I promise it’ll be the best night you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours.”

  She laughed. “Not aiming high, are we?” Some of the tension eased out of her shoulders, although the butterflies in her stomach were multiplying in a breeding season run amok. God knew Rowan did not need to aim high. The last time she had been out on a date with someone who wasn’t her husband had been fourteen years ago, at her junior year prom. She had married Darren several months later, and the butterflies in her stomach had gone extinct shortly thereafter.

  Well, they were back with vengeance now. She looked at Rowan as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Where are we going?”

  “Ever been to YOLO?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “It’s a fun scene. I think you’ll like it.” The Audi engine came to life with a low purr. Rowan handled the stick shift of the obedient-though-not-quite-tame sports car with the same easy confidence that had attracted Vera from the start. “Have you lived in Fort Lauderdale long?” he asked.

  “Most of my life. I left for medical school, but came back for my residency. What about you?”

  “I live in New York.”

  “Oh?” She studied his chiseled profile. “Did you come down here for a date?”

  A corner of his mouth tugged up into a grin. “I came down to see someone. The unexpected date with you is just a perk.”

  “It’s not a real date, is it?” Damn. Even she had heard the quiver in her voice. She needed better self-control.

  “It is to me.” He took his attention off the road for a split second and placed his hand on hers. His touch steadied her. “If it makes you feel better, just imagine I’m Iris’s brother, or something equally innocuous.”

  “But you’re too good-looking to be just someone’s brother who happened to ask me out on a date. This isn’t a normal thing for me; I don’t usually hang out with people who look like you.”

  His amber eyes darkened subtly. “You must not have looked in a mirror recently.”

  “What?”

  “You’re stunning.”

  The muscles in Vera’s back tensed, and she inhaled a jagged breath of air. “You say that to everyone you take on a date?”

  For a moment, he looked offended before easing into a half-smile. He shrugged. “Far fewer than you’d expect.”

  “I’m not used to compliments.”

  “I’m noticing that.” He pulled off I-95 and swung the car toward downtown Fort Lauderdale. “Would you like to spend tonight practicing how to receive them gracefully?”

  “Only if they’re sincere.”

  “I wouldn’t offer them otherwise.”

  “Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “In your line of work, I’d have thought…”

  “Thought what?” he asked as her voice trailed off.

  “Nothing. It was rude to even think it.”

  “It didn’t stop you before.” He sounded amused.

  Even so, Vera flushed. “In the clinic. I’m sorry. Your attitude just…got to me.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?”

  “I won’t pretend it’s honest work, since it is technically illegal, but it’s a choice people make—”

  “Is it?” Vera shook her head. “How many of these women are selling their bodies because it’s the only thing they believe they can do?”

  “Probably more than I think and less than you think.”

  She looked at him, startled by how easily he had cut through their differences and averted a pointless discussion over numbers neither of them could back up. “Are you always this good with women?”

  “Me?” He flashed her a smile as he turned the car into the circular driveway in front of YOLO. “Hold on to that thought.”

  A waiting valet opened the passenger door for Vera, and then stepped around the front of the idling vehicle to hand Rowan a claim ticket.

  “Thank you,” Rowan said. He reached for Vera’s hand and led her to the restaurant.

  The light jazz tune wafting from invisible speakers was muted beneath the buzz of multiple conversations spiced with laughter. Attractive women in cocktail dresses sat by the bar, displaying perfectly straight, white teeth in dazzling smiles. Their hands, tipped with perfect French manicures, rested possessively on the arms of their male companions as they chatted over martinis and appetizers. Their eyes, however, roamed the room. Vera did not miss the way a dozen or more women flicked appreciative glances at Rowan. The men were much less subtle; Rowan drew as many assessing male stares as he did calculating female ones.

  Rowan apparently noticed neither. “A table for two, please,” he told the hostess.

  She smiled at him. “Yes, of course. This way, please.”

  Rowan turned and ushered Vera ahead of him. At the table, they opened their menus and discussed wine, appetizers, and entrees. She found out he loved mushrooms and hated artichokes, and he preferred beer to wine. Over the ten-minute conversation on random food topics, Vera realized one amazing fact. He did not take his attention off her. Not once did his gaze flick through the room or rest on anyone else.

  “You really are quite remarkable,” she told him after they placed their orders.

  “How so?”

  “Your attentiveness. You make me feel like I’m the only woman in the room.”

  “You’re the woman I’m with, which makes you—as far as I’m concerned—the only woman in the room.”

  Vera’s smile wavered. How many clients had heard that sentence from him? How many other women had
he made to feel special?

  He shook his head. “You get this little frown between your eyes when you’ve been thinking too hard. Tell me about you. Why do you volunteer at the Family Health Center on weekends?”

  “Because I work during the week.” Vera shrugged and reached for her drink. “I’ve volunteered there one day a week ever since graduating from medical school, though I cut back for a few months when I was pregnant with Allison.”

  “How old is Allison now?”

  “She just turned two.” Vera smiled. “Started thinking she owns the world about a month ago; she’s officially the boss now.”

  “Do you have pictures?”

  Vera found recent photographs on her cell phone and handed it to Rowan. A warm, genuine grin eased across his face as he flipped through pictures of Allison. “She’s a champ. The ass-kicking grin says she’s more troublemaker than angel.”

  Vera laughed. “No, you’re right. The halo is held up by her little horns.”

  “The blond hair must come from her father.”

  She tensed. “Yes. Darren and I divorced nine months ago.”

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “She was hardly over a year old? Why?”

  “Why?” Vera’s voice trembled. She fisted her hands in her lap. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here with you on a Saturday night, wondering how to dust off the ruins of my fourteen-year marriage.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rowan placed his hand on the table and waited until she reached for it. His fingers closed around hers. “I was being intrusive.”

  “No, you have a right to be curious. Heck, I’m curious too. The closest I can figure is the marriage was falling apart for a long time, and Allison was just the nail in the coffin, so to speak. I don’t regret her,” Vera said hastily. “Not for a moment. She’s amazing, and the funny thing is I think Darren feels the same way.”

  “Then she’s a lucky girl with two parents who love her.”

  Just not each other. Still, Rowan was right. In the grand scheme of things, she supposed that Allison had made out far better than most children in broken marriages.