Over the next week, I'm posting a special Valentine's Day story, one section each day with the final section on February 14th, 2013.
This is a sensual M/F story--I hope you enjoy each installment. Here's the intro:
Meredith City is a major health care hub, located in the upper Midwest. With a large trauma center, doctors covet the training positions and put up with difficult schedules in exchange for the opportunity. Not all of the opportunities are purely medical…
Dr. Jed Ritter pinched the bridge of his nose. An endless day. Over.
He hoped. As soon as he got out of here and home to a beer or five and unconsciousness.
He unlocked the office and pushed the door open.
Red paper hearts festooned his secretary’s desk. Sitting among them, a clear plastic heart flashed “Be My Valentine” in red LED lights.
Jed blew out a breath and closed the office door. Another reminder of his least favorite day of the year.
In two strides, he crossed the office and grabbed the heart, slid the switch to “off.” He held it over the trashcan, then set it back on the desk. Not fair to Mary to throw it away. His secretary had gone out of her way to cheer him up.
An impossible feat.
Alison had insisted she and Jed marry on Valentine’s Day, saying he’d never forget their anniversary that way.
Five years later, she’d served him with divorce papers on Valentine’s Day. And now, here he was, on the third anniversary of his divorce, alone— on Valentine’s Day. Yep, he’d never forget anything related to this hideous holiday.
He stepped around the secretary’s desk to his office door. Chief of Cardiology, Dr. Jed Ritter, engraved in black on a gold rectangle. Beneath his nameplate, someone had taped a red envelope, addressed in white ink: To the head of the Heart Department.
He pulled it loose and shook his head. He should give Mary a raise. Had to be the most dedicated secretary in the building. He opened the flap and pulled out a card.
A heart, hand-rendered in fuchsia and tangerine, with a Band-Aid across the front. He ran a finger across the painting, then flipped to the inside. A hand-written message. Huh. Not his secretary’s precise script. More like a doctor’s handwriting.
Dear Dr. Ritter,
Today is the cardiologist’s own holiday, and as a heart specialist, your presence is requested at a private celebration.
The Queen of Hearts
What the hell? Who was the Queen of Hearts? And of all the men on the planet, why would she want to celebrate with him? He turned the card over. Nothing on the back.
The Queen had neglected to give him an address. Well, that clenched it. A great excuse for not showing up. Home to beer and bed. He opened his office door and tossed the card on his desk, then pulled off his white coat and hung it on the back of the door.
No pink message slips on his blotter. No cards. No hearts with flashing lights, thank God.
He turned toward the window. The medical office building across the street had left on lights to form the shape of a heart. Jed made a fist and smacked the window.
Damn it, everywhere he looked were reminders of this non-holiday. He wheeled around and marched into the lavatory. One of the perks of being chief: his own private bathroom. The hospital had even put in a shower for those nights he didn’t get home.
And the nights he didn’t go home, unwilling to face his lifeless bachelor apartment.
He cranked on the cold water and splashed his face, then looked up at his reflection.
Join me tomorrow for Part 2!
Once upon a misspent youth, Whitley read and wrote stories under the covers at night. Years later, inventing characters and putting them through their paces in interesting ways turned out to be addictive, and along the way Whitley discovered that two heroes is twice as nice. A pot of coffee and a creating an adventure featuring a couple of guys makes for a perfect day. Stop by www.whitleygray.com and feed your fix for heat between the sheets with erotica and M/M romance.