It's only a small measure though.
Carrying my champagne flute with me like some protective talisman, I wander over to the food tables, doing my best to stifle the discomfort I'm feeling. As I look around and see so many distinguished, accomplished people – in a field I want to be a part of in the most desperate way – I not only feel sorry for myself, but I also feel like a fish out of water. I catch snippets of conversations going on all around me – doctors and nurses talking about this medical procedure or that one – and wish I could join them, if for no other reason than to learn.
I don't, simply because I don't want to appear uneducated or ignorant. I mean, I know I am. I'm smart, I'll never say that I'm not. My brains are something I take pride in. But, when it comes to practicing medicine, I just haven’t finished my education. I’d never be able to keep up. For that, I feel a sense of shame stealing through me and I suddenly start to question why I even came tonight at all.
Not finding anything on the table that interests me, I turn – and run smack dab into a tall man. My champagne sloshes all over his tuxedo jacket and I am instantly horrified.
“Oh God, I'm so sorry,” I say. “I didn't –”
“No, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going,” he jumps in, his voice deep and rumbling – like thunder rolling in over the desert.
“Your jacket,” I say. “I can pay for the dry cleaning.”
As he dabs at it with a napkin and gives me a small smile, I let my eyes roam, taking all of him in. He’s a gorgeous man. Tall – maybe six-foot-two or so – and judging by the rock-hard feel of his body when I ran into him, he's tight and toned. He's got an athlete's body, though he's not nearly as bulky as a football player – a swimmer perhaps. His dark brown hair is stylishly cut, he's got that sexy stubble that's always fashionable on his face, and his brown eyes are like two bottomless pools of the richest, most decadent chocolate around.
I give myself a little shake, surprised and dismayed at my reaction to him. My body is humming with an electricity I've never felt before and my thoughts are spinning a thousand miles a minute – and most of them are disturbingly wanton. Kicking myself inwardly, I try to rein my thoughts – and hormones – in. This isn't like me. It's not like me at all.
“Oh, sorry, I'm Duncan,” he says, looking up at me. “Duncan Clyburne.”
“Alexis Martin,” I tell him. “You can call me Lex or Lexi. Most of my friends do.”
A sly grin touches his lips. “So, we're friends already?”
“Oh, well, no, I just meant –”
His laughter is deep, and I can feel the rumble of it in my bones. There's a churning in my stomach and a flutter in my heart that makes it hard for me to focus on what he's saying, let alone formulate a coherent reply. I feel like I'm standing there sounding like a bumbling idiot.
“I'm only teasing you,” he chuckles. “And you can call me Duncan.”
I clear my throat and look up at him – and being only five-foot-four myself, I have to look up at him. His eyes latch onto mine and I feel my breath catch in my throat.
“You're not wearing a mask,” I murmur, trying to gather my wits about me again. “And you're not decked out for Mardi Gras. I thought this was a Mardi Gras ball.”
A small flash of annoyance crosses his features, though I get the feeling that it's not directed at me. It makes me wonder what's going on inside that head of his.
“Yeah, I'm not big on themes,” he says, then laughs. “They're lucky I showed up for this little soiree at all.”
“Oh, are you a donor?”
“Doctor, actually,” he corrects. “I'm the Chief Surgeon of the Marpat Unit.”
I cock my head. “The Marpat Unit?”
That same flash of annoyance crosses his face again and seems to confirm my earlier thought that it has nothing to do with me.
“It's basically a unit for the hospital's big donors,” he informs me.
“You don't sound like you enjoy the job.”
He shrugs. “I don't enjoy the pretentiousness of it,” he replies. “Nor do I think this is the best use of my skills. I should be somewhere else. Somewhere I can make an actual difference.”
“So, why don't you?” I ask. “Can't you transfer to another unit?”
“Actually,” he confides, that sly grin on his face again, “I'm transferring to another country.”
“Oh?” I inquire, feeling a slight pang of disappointment flash through me.
“Yeah. I signed on with Physicians Worldwide. I'll be in Syria for about eight months or so.”
“Physicians Worldwide?”
“You've heard of Doctors Without Borders?”
I nod. “Yeah, I've heard of them.”
“Same thing, essentially.”
“Wow,” I say. “What made you want to do that? I mean, it's pretty dangerous. You must really be trying to pad your resume or something.”
He chuckles. “No, I just thought I could do some good,” he says. “I want to help people. That's why I went into medicine, to begin with.”
I have to say, I'm a little surprised, but actually quite impressed. Outwardly, he doesn't seem to be the type who'd volunteer in some third world country out of the goodness of his heart. If you judge him only by his appearance, you'd think he's a guy who enjoys being rich, loves the party circuit, and all the trappings that go with it. He's so impossibly handsome that he reminds me of a doctor you'd see on some television drama. He's definitely got ‘leading man’ written all over him.
I have to give myself another shake and try to pull my head out of the clouds again. I'm impressed that he's the kind of guy who'd voluntarily leave a life of comfort to go endure the harsh realities of a place like Syria.
His eyes meet mine and I feel something inside of me shift. It's like something falling into place, or a door being unlocked – or something. I don't know what it is, I've never felt anything quite like it before, but it's such a powerful feeling, it almost steals my breath.
There's an electricity burning between us that's almost palpable. I can feel it and judging by the look on his face, he can too. There's a connection I've never felt before that sends a bolt of bright, warm light shooting from my head, all the way down to my toes, stopping in every part in between.
I lick my suddenly dry lips and tear my eyes away. I can't be doing this. I can't let myself get overwhelmed by emotion. Not only is it not something I want, the fact of the matter is that he's leaving for eight months anyway. Maybe longer. I've heard some of the people who sign up for programs like that end up staying in them for years. The last thing I need to do is let myself get attached to anybody – especially somebody I can't have.
“Doctor Clyburne, nice to see you. You're looking sharp in your tux.”
I turn at the sound of Sabrina's voice, relieved at her sudden appearance, which saves me from myself. She's smiling wide as she approaches us, cutting me a knowing glance.
“Sabrina,” he greets. “I almost didn't recognize you in that mask. You look amazing.”
“And why are you not in Mardi Gras attire, Doctor Clyburne?” she winks.
“You know I don't do themes,” he says. “I'm just here to play my role – which is to charm the donors out of their money.”
Sabrina grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. “I see you've met my best friend?”
“I did in fact. Although, I didn't know she was your best friend,” he says. “She decided to pour a glass of champagne on me.”
“It was an accide –”
His laughter cuts me off mid-sentence as I realize he's teasing me again. My cheeks flush again, and I look over at Bri, whose eyes are sparkling mischievously behind her mask.
“Lexi here is going to be a nurse,” she says.
“Is that so?” he asks.
“As soon as she finishes her program, absolutely,” Bri says, a note of pride in her voice. “She's brilliant and I know she'll be a great nurse.”
“Bri,” I murmur softly. “Stop.”
“I see she's modest too,” he says. “What school is your program at?”
I let out a breath and look up at him. “I'm actually not in the program at the moment,” I tell him, my disappointment and shame coloring my words so thickly, I cringe when I hear it. “I hope to go back to finish it out though.”
“Oh,” he says, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Why did you stop taking courses?”
I look over at Bri and see her staring back at me apologetically. I know she didn't mean to open up this can of worms, but in her overzealousness to sell Duncan on me, she's taken us down a path I'm not comfortable with. She knows how much I hate the fact that I can't afford to go back to school right now and she knows it's killing me inside. I know she'd never intentionally hang my private shame out in public like that, but here we are all the same.
“Honestly, I'd rather not talk about it,” I say, my cheeks burning with heat.
“Anyway,” Bri chirps brightly, doing her best to change the subject. “I heard you're hooking up with Physicians Worldwide?”
Duncan nods. “Yeah, I leave next week,” he informs her.
“That's amazing, Doctor Clyburne,” she says. “How did Janet take the news?”