Need You Now: Barefoot Bay, #2

Chapter One

Imight be known throughout Mimosa Key as a leg man, but I can certainly appreciate a fine derrière--and that is one damn fine derrière . Continuing to stare at the woman standing at the edge of the dance floor with her hips swaying to the beat of the dance band, Dr. John Fitzgerald Ford took a long sip of the silly, fruity--but overall delicious--pale blue drink in his hand and uttered a heartfelt, Mmm, mmm.

A voice close to his ear derisively admonished him, Fitz, my man, don’t tell me you are falling under the spell of these girly drinks that Ella and Willow dreamed up.

Fitz turned to his sometimes tennis opponent and friend, Nick Hershey, and took another gulp of the surprisingly strong drink in his hand. "Do not dismiss this powerful concoction as a girly drink too loudly, my friend, or I can guarantee that you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight. Your wife has been flitting around here since the ceremony ended and she--or one of her Barefoot Bride partners--is likely to hear you."

The other man reached over to the bar Fitz had been leaning against and picked up a frothy orange drink topped by a fruit-laden umbrella swizzler. Not a chance. I’m in like Flynn with them. I’ve been enjoying these Marriage Mimosas since the ceremony ended. By the way, damn fine job as the Best Man, Fitz. I’ve never seen you that close to a bride before. You didn’t look the least bit panicked, even when you had to hand the ring over to Levi.

You know what the ladies say, ‘Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.’ I’ve done the Best Man gig before, although not for many years. Mostly after med school when it seemed like everyone was getting married. Fitz gave a humorless laugh. Looks like there’s a second wave happening now with a lot of our buddies taking the plunge. I just don’t get it.

Fitz finished his drink and slapped it down on the bar. "In any event, I’ve got a beautiful woman to meet and I don’t plan on proposing. I’ll see you later, my man."

He heard Nick sputtering behind him but he didn’t pause. His eyes were fixed on the shapely redhead whose purple-clad bottom had kept his attention through the entire exchange at the bar.

Making his way through the high-top tables placed strategically on the white sand around the open bar, Fitz maneuvered himself next to the auburn-haired object of his attention. Placing a hand lightly on her shoulder, he bent next to the flower-and-lace fascinator she wore in her hair and whispered, What’s got your attention, beautiful, and how can I direct it at me?

A piquant face turned toward him. Large hazel eyes, with flecks of gold, widened in surprise. Then, a familiar chuckle brought him painfully back to Earth. He was gazing down at Maureen O’Riley. Maureen O’Riley, his office manager!

Who are you calling beautiful, Fitz? You must be confusing me with someone else. Or, she gestured to her head, you’re taken with this frivolous gee-gaw the ladies at Chrysalis made me buy to go with this dress.

He had the grace to laugh companionably as he quietly removed his hand from her shoulder. Grateful that Maureen obviously thought he’d been joking with her and had taken no offense at his touch or flirtatious remark, he let his eyes drift to the pale beige lace and purple silk flowers concoction nestled atop her hair. "Well, that is quite the loveliest gee-gaw at this event, Maureen. It rivals the bridesmaids’ at the very least."

Maureen’s eyes swung to the two teenaged girls at the edge of the dance floor. Tall, slender, and blonde, in matching turquoise dresses and flirty fresh flower crowns, the groom’s twin daughters epitomized young, beautiful and stylish.

Turning her gaze back to Fitz, Maureen blushed, a deep rose coloring her cheeks. I never looked that good, Fitz. Not even at their age. Her voice was low, and--he thought--a bit wistful.

He looked at her more closely now. Maureen was the glue that held the FL-Ortho office together. She was efficient and firm, but kept the staff and the doctors working in a friendly, yet professional, manner because of her tough but fair attitude towards everyone. And she was so damned organized. Fitz was meticulous with his surgeries but--he often said it himself--outside the operating room, he was lucky if he could lay his hands on his pen, his tablet, or even his reading glasses. And Maureen was always there to steer him into the right examining room, move him along when he was getting off-schedule by spending too much time with a patient, and direct him back to his office for a tele-conference with the main branch in Albany, at NY-Ortho.

If asked, he would have described Maureen as short with brownish hair and brownish eyes.

The woman who stood facing him now came to his shoulders and he was at least 5’10" tall. He glanced down to narrow feet with sparkling silver toenails encased in strappy beige leather, impossibly high-heels. His eyes strayed up shapely calves to a flirty silky hem, past curvy hips--he would not let himself think about her derrière, he would not--to a narrow waist. His eyes skimmed quickly over her cleavage--she was his Office Manager, for God’s sake--to a mass of long reddish hair. This was not the same woman he saw almost every day at work dressed in sensible white shoes, bright blue scrubs, and a white lab coat, with her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, glasses hanging from a chain around her next or perched on the end of a pale, freckled nose. And why do I care?" Shocked at the direction of his thoughts, Fitz took a step away before he glanced again at Maureen. Fortunately, her attention had turned back to the dance floor.

The groom--his friend and partner, Dr. Levi Gould--had finished waltzing with his very beautiful new bride, Ella Anderson, and had swept her into a deep embrace, ending with a dip and a very long kiss on the lips. Escorting her to where his daughters stood giggling at their father’s romantic gesture, Levi turned and his eyes scanned the crowd. With definite purpose and a sly grin playing across his mouth, he headed across the dance floor, almost to where Fitz stood with Maureen. She started to laugh along with everyone else when the object of his desire became clear. With a gallant bow, Levi held out his hand to Charity Grambling, the owner of the Shell Gas Station & Super Mini-Mart and the biggest busybody on Mimosa Key.

What is she wearing? he muttered to Maureen.

Still laughing, she turned to Fitz. That is her traditional wedding guest dress, Fitz. But the hat, if you can call that concoction in her hair a hat, is new. She must have decided to spruce up her look because Levi has always been such a favorite of hers.

The fascinator perched atop Charity's grizzled curls was a concoction of lace, silk flowers, and sparkles. And a feather that dipped precariously over one eye. Her garishly flowered slinky dress hugged every curve.

The band broke into a version of The Peppermint Twist. Levi looked perplexed but game as he started to move, though it was obvious that he had anticipated a slow song of some kind for his dance with Charity. Ella and the twins were laughing uproariously, clearly the instigators of the band’s musical selection. Charity immediately began gyrating to the music, hips twisting in one direction, shoulders and arms flailing in the other.

"I know I should be a good Christian woman about this, but I keep thinking of that line from Steel Magnolias, where the woman is dancing in the tight sequined dress and Clarice says her butt looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket. Maureen giggled as she looked up at Fitz. He gave her a quizzical glance. Never mind. Chick flick. But, seriously, that’s just what she looks like." She laughed again as she turned back to the improbable couple on the dance floor.

Fitz had no idea what Maureen was talking about, but he was painfully aware of the effect her words and warm chuckle were having on him. He felt an overwhelming urge to wrap her in his arms and kiss that smart mouth. Instead, he cleared his throat and muttered, What is Levi thinking? I thought he was coming over to ask you to dance. Why is he dancing with Charity? The town gossip and a pretty nasty woman, if you ask me.

Charity has always had a soft spot for Levi, Fitz. Everybody knows that. And Levi would never ask me to dance. I’m just the office manager and he’s one of the docs.

It would be perfectly appropriate for Levi to dance with you, Maureen.

There you go, Fitz. You’ve got that east-coast-white-lace-Catholic-prep-school-better-than-everyone voice going on, that’s why Charity doesn’t like you. You’re always vaguely disapproving when you speak to her.

Well, she deserves it. She is way more judgmental than I am. Maureen was definitely getting his Irish up.

Admit it, you’ve carried a grudge ever since she commented when you first arrived on Mimosa Key that a man your age should be driving a more sensible car.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with a fifty-year-old man driving a vintage Ferrari. He said it a little too forcefully, he realized, because Maureen had cocked her eyebrow in that way she did at the office when he was being unreasonable. Besides, I only drive it occasionally. And my other two cars are almost sedate.

She was laughing outright at him. "Sure they are. A tricked-out Range Rover and a special edition Mercedes. No wonder they call you Dr. Fast Cars, Slow Hands."

They should stop making up names for the doctors in our practice. Obviously, now that he’s married, Levi is no longer Dr. Hottie Rock Star. Fitz chuckled at the nickname that had dogged his partner for years.

"No, but he’ll still be Dr. Stray Dog Magnet. At his questioning look, Maureen continued, Levi’s housekeeper, Missy, coined that one after he adopted her, then his Labrador retriever, then that orange kitten. And, of course, after he found Ella."

The dance ended then, with much loud applause and cheers from the crowd gathered on the edge of the beach at Barefoot Bay Resort and Spa. The Barefoot Brides had done it again, with a wedding that incorporated the beach and blended families of children and dogs--Levi’s chocolate Labrador retriever, Hersch, having kept his collar of flowers in one piece for approximately five minutes before chasing a seagull down the beach as the bride and groom made their way to the wedding canopy.

Levi surrendered Charity to her gaggle of friends and took a few steps toward Maureen. May I have this dance, boss? He asked with the standard smirk that appeared on his face whenever she lectured him about expenses or schedules. Maureen blushed again and stepped into his arms.

Before Fitz could turn back to the bar for a drink to quench the sudden dryness in his throat at the sight of Maureen--this new, beautiful Maureen--wrapped in Levi’s arms, he felt a tug on his sleeve.

Ella, bride and best-selling author, held out her hands to him. Come on, Fitz, you have to dance with the bride. I promise I won’t bite and none of this marital bliss will rub off on you.

It would be my pleasure, he said, as he reached out for her You know, I’ve danced with plenty of brides, Ella.

Yes, but never your own, Fitz. Never your own. Now that I’m a happily married woman, I’m going to have to devote some thought as to why you are still Mimosa Key’s most elusive bachelor.

Chapter Two

"I curse Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik, or whoever