The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,22

want to flirt. “Sure.”

“You seem like a really nice guy, but I’m in Melbourne to work for the next six months, and I’m not interested in a relationship.”

“Too bad,” he said, eyeing her with something akin to hope. “We’re both in the medical field, we’re similar ages, we could’ve been good together.”

“Good on paper according to our family’s astrologers, you mean?”

He laughed again. “If your mom’s anything like my grandmother, you know this won’t be the last time we’ll be ‘encouraged’ to meet.”

“Yeah, I know, but at least we both know where we stand now.”

“For the record, I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind.” He tugged at his bow tie. “After all, who can resist a doctor in a tux?”

She made a buzzing sound. “Wrong on so many levels.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugged, his grin oddly endearing. “Until we meet again, Samira.”

Samira watched the not-so-dorky doctor with the killer sense of humor do the rounds saying his goodbyes, while her cell with Rory’s number in it burned a hole in her pocket.

He was too young for her, he was all wrong for her, yet she couldn’t deny that for the first time in her life she should quit thinking about doing the right thing and do the exact opposite.

Eleven

Samira had stuffed the last plastic bag into the trash when the first wave of nausea hit.

Her stomach churned like she’d drunk week-old lassi, and sweat broke out over her face. The pungent smell of garbage wasn’t helping, and she backed away from the trash can quickly.

However, a second wave swamped her, more powerful than the first, and she staggered toward the front step of the veranda, grabbing at the balustrading to prevent from falling.

“Hey, you okay?”

Of course, dashing Dr. Manish had to be leaving at that moment, and she managed a mute nod before slumping toward him.

“Easy, I’ve got you.” He lowered her to the nearest step as her head swam and she struggled not to barf all over his shoes. “When I said you’d fall for my charms, I didn’t expect you to actually swoon or to have it happen so quickly.”

In response, Samira vomited on her mother’s prize rosebush. Not a dainty vomit either; a full-on, multicolored puke that went on too long and left her swaying and clinging to whatever she could hold on to: in this case, Manish’s arm.

“Did you even notice I held back your hair like a true gentleman?”

“Stop trying to make me laugh,” she said, punctuated with a groan that had her clutching her stomach again. “I feel awful.”

“What did you eat?”

“Not much. An onion pakora, maybe two.” The thought of any kind of food made her stomach roil, and she wished he’d hurry up and leave so she could nurse her humiliation in peace.

“Could be a virus,” he said. “There’s a nasty gastro going around; the hospital ER has been inundated.”

It wasn’t a virus, but no way in hell would she tell him the real cause of her barf. This happened occasionally courtesy of her oligomenorrhea. She didn’t mind the infrequent periods and could handle the cramps, but the hormone spikes that induced nausea were the pits. She didn’t always vomit, thank goodness, but this spike must’ve been a doozy.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, struggling to her feet, grateful for the support of his arm. “Nothing a good lemonade won’t fix.”

“Barley water, don’t you mean?”

The thought of the boiled barley water her mom used to make her drink as a kid for good gut health made her want to barf again.

“Stop. You’re killing me.”

“Only because I’d get to revive you with mouth-to-mouth.”

“Oh my God, you did not just say that.”

“I think I did, but hey, at least you’re smiling.”

“It’s a grimace,” she said, liking his quick wit more by the minute, even in her puke-induced haze.

At that moment, her head spun again, and she clutched at him, hating herself for showing weakness. Ever since she’d divorced Avi and fled to LA, she’d turned her back on the fragile woman she’d been and embraced her inner tigress. Who had sadly morphed into a pathetic pussycat about five minutes ago.

“Let me take you inside.”

She could’ve protested but didn’t know if she’d manage to make it feeling so light-headed, and thankfully, by the time he led her into the lounge room, she felt better.

“Anything I can get you?”

“No, thanks, I’ll be okay.”

He eyeballed her with startling intensity. “You know you can call me, right? For my medical expertise, of