Want a taste of my latest romantic comedy, BABY & BUMP. Check it out: His doctor’s coat was hanging open to reveal what appeared to be a worn denim shirt and a pair of cargo khakis. He was tan. Not overly tan, like one of those Jersey Beach freaks, or whatever that show was called—not that I ever watched it—but perfectly sun-kissed like he’d spent the weekend outside. Doing yard work. With his shirt off. His hair was blond streaked with platinum, probably the result of a summer spent on a beach somewhere, and it was tousled into a disheveled “I need a haircut, but I’m too busy wakeboarding and mountain biking to care” look. When he raised his eyes off the manila folder full of my medical facts—height, last menstrual cycle—and, gulp—weight—I noticed that his eyes were the most crystal aquamarine blue I’d ever seen. They were the exact same color of a Tiffany jewelry box. And, as if I weren’t ready to howl like a dog in heat already, when he opened his mouth to greet me, his deep voice positively oozed charm with its Southern accent. “You must be Lexie. Hi, I’m Fletcher Haybee. How are you?” “I… I… uh…” My brain had shut off. I was sitting there, naked from the waist down, covered in a glorified quicker picker upper, staring at the best-looking man I’d ever seen. “She’s fine.” Candace snickered. The lovely doctor’s eyes brightened. “Candace? What’s up? Is this your sister?” “Cousin. She just found out she’s pregnant.” Candace nudged me. “Say hello, Lex.” “Hello, Lex. Er, Dr. Haybee.” I blinked a few times and focused on the tee shirt underneath his worn denim button down. Holy hell, it was a vintage Aerosmith tee shirt! If there had been water in the examination room, he could have walked on it. “Call me Fletcher.” His accent made my toes, clad only in blue and white striped socks with dancing hippos on the heels (what was I thinking?) curl deliciously. “Any cousin of Candace and Brian’s is a friend of mine.” I ignored Candace’s knowing grin as I tried to put on my game face. Well, as much of a game face as I could have without any pants on. “You… you don’t look like a doctor.” “Thank you. I take that as a compliment.” He grinned and the corners of his eyes crinkled. I swear to God a ray of sunshine busted through the roof, illuminating him. “He’s the best OB in town.” Candace announced proudly. “Remember when I had preeclampsia with Ellie’s pregnancy and had bed rest?” I peeled my eyes away from Fletcher. “Uh huh.” “Fletcher did all of the appointments in my last trimester at our house.” She beamed. “How many doctors do house calls these days?” Glancing back at Fletcher, who was nodding humbly, I replied, “Not many.” He laughed, and the deep, rumbling sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. “That’s just one of the perks of being friends with your obstetrician.” I was staring at him. I couldn’t help it. How did I miss this guy through all three of Candace’s pregnancies? Why hadn’t she dragged me to this office sooner? Say when I wasn’t pregnant and my face wasn’t the same shade of grey as a gas station bathroom? Fletcher put down my file and approached me. “Well, Lexie, it’s nice to meet you.” “It’s nice to meet you, too.” We shook hands, and I bit the insides of my cheeks. “My nurse tested the urine sample you left in the restroom, and as you know, you’re pregnant. Congratulations.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Otherwise, your white cell count looked good, and there wasn’t too much protein in your urine, so that’s great. Was this a planned pregnancy?” I swallowed and ignored Candace’s eyes probing the side of my face. “No.” His expression softened. “Do you want to discuss options? Are you planning to parent the child?” “Yes. Of course.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I always hoped to have children. Just didn’t plan on doing it alone.” Fletcher appeared surprised. “Oh, you’ll be a single mom?” “Yes. Unless you’d like to marry me.” I mumbled that last part. “Excuse me?” he asked. “Nothing!” I squeaked. I fought the urge to slap myself on the forehead, and looked away from his bright eyes. There was something really wrong with me if I was this attracted to my obstetrician. I mean, within a matter of minutes, he was going to be looking at my crotch, for Pete’s sake. And not in a Fifty Shades of Grey way, either. Argh. “I’ll have my receptionist give you some information about some local single mother support groups. That might be a great outlet for you.” Fletcher made a note on my chart, then gestured to the papered examination table behind me. “Why don’t you lay back, and I can do the examination.” “Oh, um, okay.” I looked at Candace dumbly, who gestured for me to lie down. A wave of self-consciousness rolled over me. The last time I’d been partially unclothed in front of a man, I’d been drinking overpriced merlot and watching made-for-TV movies. My buzz had made me feel invincible. I most certainly did not feel invincible on Fletcher’s examination table. I felt unbearably naked, and suddenly aware of every single ounce of cellulite and every single freckle I had on my ultra-white skin. I wish I’d had the good sense to get a decent spray tan before coming to the obstetrician’s office. “It says in the medical records you had transferred that you had your breast examination just four months ago. So I won’t need to do that today.” Fletchers voice was soothing and calm, and would have made a normal woman feel relaxed as they lay there with their knees clamped together. Unfortunately, I’m not a normal woman. A plethora of off color jokes involving breast examinations came to mind as I lay there, his warm hands touching my calves. I’d always been the person that laughed inappropriately at funerals. During Speech 103 in college, when Professor Lidgerwood used the work “rectify” four times in one sentence, I’d been the one to make cheesy jokes. When my mother passed gas during Easter services at church two years ago, I’d been the one with tears rolling down my face. The idea of Dr. Haybee giving me a breast examination was almost too much to handle. “If you could just put your feet into the stirrups, that would be great.” I squeezed my eyes shut as he carefully guided my feet into the metal frames. Candace leaned close to my face to whisper, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” My voice came out tight since I was holding my breath. “Are you uncomfortable?” she whispered. “You could say that.” I nodded, trying hard not to move any muscles from the waist down. The last thing I needed was to fart in Dr. Hottie’s face. Fletcher’s head popped up between my knees, sending the paper towel fluttering. I scrambled to catch it and put it back down over my bits as he tilted his head to the side. “You okay, Lexie? Are my hands cold?” I giggled maniacally, then snorted. “No. You’re fine.” When his blonde head sank back out of sight, I turned my face to Candace and dropped my voice as low as it would go. “A little bit of warning would have been nice!” She came even closer, bringing Aubrey with her. “Warning about what?” I dramatically rolled my eyes from her face, to the area where Fletcher was gathering his speculum—and other such torture devices—and then back up again. “Him.” Candace’s nostrils flared. “Sorry,” she hissed. “I didn’t think it would freak you out this bad.” “It’s not freaking me out, I’m just—” “You know, if you two keep whispering over there, I’m gonna start to feel self-conscious.” Fletcher grinned at us from under my leg. “Now, Lexie, if you could just relax your knees a bit, that would be great.” Drawing a deep breath, I let my knees fall apart approximately three inches. “That’s great. Now a little more…” He drew out the word little, and patted my foot affectionately. I looked up at the ceiling, and let my knees separate another two inches. Lord, how long had it been since I’d gotten a bikini wax? “Seriously, Lex. Loosen up.” Candace stifled a laugh. “You need to let the man do his thing.” “Could you put it differently, please?” I hissed. Fletcher’s warm hands went to my knees, which he gently pushed them apart, before settling down in my, er, bits and pieces quietly. Grimacing, I stared up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the humiliation creeping up on me. This was the least seductive moment of my life, making the day I had to help my mother shave her legs because she’d broken her wrist seem like a moonlit walk on the beach. Squeeeee! Want to read more about Lexie and the fine doctor Fletcher Haybee? Grab your copy of BABY & BUMP here: amazon/Baby-Bump-This-Series-ebook/dp/B00DMW8W12/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1372631182&sr=8-1&keywords=baby+%26+bump+brooke+moss
Posted on: Sun, 30 Jun 2013 22:28:12 +0000
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