The Doctor's Damsel (Men of the Capital Book 3) by Cara Nelson Read Free Book Online Page A

to rehearse on. A few more takes, and she turned it off to go get ready for her date with Abe.
    Wriggling into her leather shorts and a scooped neck red top, she looped a long strand of beads around her neck and bundled her golden hair into a ponytail. Scanning her reflection, she glared at the stitches on her palm, blaming them for the loss of the feminine itch commercial. If her hands had been perfect…but that made as much sense as saying if only she’d been five years younger, she might’ve had the role in the play, or if she’d invested in some double-Ds, she could have played a cocktail waitress. Right now, it was best to concentrate on the matter at hand, which was getting Dr. Harrison Abrahemson to let his guard down and have some fun. He was quite possibly the most serious person she’d ever met, much less dated. She paused, scanning the sex toys to decide which would be the funniest to flash at him while bowling. Deciding on the musical dildo, she tossed it in her purse and went to the bowling alley.
    Abe was waiting at the bar, tipping a bottle of beer. His hair was damp as if from the shower, slick in the neon lights above the bar, and she had to force her hands to her sides to keep from touching him. He set his beer down and came over to meet her. He kissed her cheek casually in greeting. She wasn’t used to someone being casual and affectionate. In Becca’s experience, the men she dated either stuck their tongues down her throat in the first thirty seconds of the date or turned out to be gay, sometimes both. So she smiled up at him and said hi.
    “Ready to play?” she asked.
    “Sure,” he replied, looking her up and down in a way that made her glad she’d paid $79 for these leather shorts last year. Hannah had said they were stupid and slutty-looking. Hannah had always been too conservative.
    They found a lane. She watched as he took off his motorcycle boots and laced up the colorful bowling shoes. He made them look funky, but without the self-conscious effort of hipsters. Never had Becca Bennett ever wanted to jump a man in bowling shoes before that moment. She selected a bright pink bowling ball and prepared to roll.
    “So what’s your good luck ritual?” she asked flirtatiously.
    “My what?”
    “What do you do to ensure a good roll? If you want to get a strike or a spare...what do you do?”
    “I try my best,” he said looking at her blankly.
    “You don’t have a ritual? How disappointing. I once dated a guy who claimed he had to rub my butt for good luck.”
    “Did you let him?”
    “No. Obviously not. He was a creep.”
    “So are you trying to find out if I’m a creep?”
    “No. I already know you’re not. I just wondered if you were superstitious.”
    “I’m a man of science. I’m not superstitious.”
    “You’d be surprised.”
    “Is this your worldly-wise hooker routine?”
    “I played one of those once—street-smart hooker with a heart of gold.” She smiled.
    “I can see that.”
    “So my sister was right. The shorts are slutty-looking, if you can picture me as a hooker.” She smirked.
    “No, I didn’t mean that. I mean you’re versatile. I can see you making that role believable.”
“And I can see you treading water, hoping you didn’t just insult me,” she said. “Relax.” She turned and rolled the ball, knocking down seven pins and giving a little bounce of delight without realizing it, just rising up on her tiptoes and back down.
    On Abe’s turn, she waited until he drew back his arm, then yelled, “Look out!” He let go of the ball, which immediately rolled into the gutter sadly. He glared at her.
“That’s cheating. You distracted me.”
    “No. I shouted. If I distracted you, you’d know it,” she promised. He rolled his eyes.
    This time when he rolled, she just sat back and admired the line and swell of his backside, the width of his strong shoulders, the way his waist tapered to narrow hips. It wasn’t a bad view sitting behind the good