Before I Wake by Kathryn Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

at six. Want to come?” It was my duty to help him, and I wanted to help him.
    Again with the slip of a smile—and just the tiniest frown. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
    I smiled uncertainly—an expression that made me very attractive, I’m sure. I was crossing all kinds of lines I had no business crossing. “You’re paying.”
    He nodded. “Of course. McDonald’s okay?”
    I must have looked horrified because his “slip” turned into a full-fledged smile. He had such great teeth. He must have had braces as a kid. Smiling made him downright beautiful. I basked in it, even after I realized he was teasing.
    “Don’t worry, Doc. Even I have more class than that. I’ll pick you up at six.”
    He left, closing the door behind him—a fact I was thankful for as I sank into my chair like a boneless heap. What had I done? I’d just asked a patient out to dinner. Granted it sounded like he was screwed six ways from Sunday, but I had asked a guy out. I hadn’t done that since…well, I never had.
    I sat there for a second while the shock of what I’d done wore off. Slowly, a big-ass grin spread across my face. I was going to dinner with Noah Clarke.
    Wait till I told Bonnie.

    At 5:50 I said good-bye to a patient and pulled a brush and a small bag of makeup out of the top drawer of my desk. I released my hair from its clip and let it fall. I ran the brush through quickly, then turned my attention to freshening my makeup.
    I love makeup. I like to think of my face as a canvas that I can paint however I want. I’ve been blessed with fairly good skin—at least it looks good when I have a tinted moisturizer on it. My eyes are my best feature, and I play them up with colors that bring out the blue and green. I also have big lips, so I usually play them down unless I really want to make a statement. As a kid I was teased mercilessly for them; now, every lip gloss seems to promise “plumper” lips, and doctors offer to inject collagen into skinny mouths. You know I’ve actually been asked if my lips were real?
    I brushed on a little extra shadow and used a fine brush—that great bent one that Benefit makes—to darken my eyeliner. A little powder took the shine from my T-zone and Clinique Black Honey gloss—a gift from the makeup gods—finished the transformation.

    Not that it was much of a transformation, but I felt a little more prepared to be out in public with Noah.
    I slung my lab coat over the back of my chair, grabbed my purse, and locked the door on my way out.
    When I entered the waiting area, Noah was already there, being chatted up by Bonnie, who was watching him like a fat tomcat eyeing a lame pigeon.
    Noah turned as I approached. I’d like to say that his jaw dropped at the sight of me, but it didn’t. He just stopped and watched with an expression I couldn’t read but warmed me right down to my toes.
    He had shaved, and his hair was artfully mussed rather than accidentally so. He wore clean jeans—no rips—with a lightweight gray sweater underneath a leather coat in much better shape than his usual.
    He cleaned up good. More importantly, he’d cleaned up for me.
    He was staring at my head as I approached. “Something wrong?” I asked, feeling the top of my skull for foreign and potentially humiliating objects.
    Noah’s intense gaze shifted a little, traveling down to someplace around my shoulder. “I’ve never seen your hair down before.”
    “Oh.” What else could I say?
    He looked slightly bemused. “I was trying to think of the colors I’d use to paint it. Your hair, I mean.”
    I smiled. I wondered if he saw all of life as a potential subject for his art. “Did you think of any?”
    He frowned in contemplation. “A couple. I’m not sure they’re right, though.”
    “Well, maybe you’ll figure it out over dinner.” I turned to Bonnie. “I’ll be back before the eight o’clock.” I was doing some work for Dr. Canning tonight, and that meant I’d be hanging out in the