Alien Romance: Star Light Pilot (Sci-Fi Alien Invasion Abduction Fantasy Warrior Hero Space Opera Romance) (Science Fiction Mystery Dragon Shifter Paranormal Urban Short Stories) by Emma Taylor
Authors: Emma Taylor
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heaven’s sake, get a grip on yourself! But no man had ever just stared at her like this before. They had all been wet, simpering, overly careful. This man didn’t care about that, she sensed. He could stare at her all day and know that she wouldn’t lose interest. Was that who she really was?
She was steeling herself to demand that he say whatever it was he was going to say when he smiled. “I want to take you to the best restaurant in town,” he said. “I have a private room. We can be alone there and get to know each other better.”
“What—”
“I want to show you the time of your life.”
“Doctor—”
“I want you to submit to my every passion.”
“Doctor,” Charlotte said, more firmly. “This isn’t appropriate.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Charlotte gripped the edges of the desk. She kept telling herself that this wasn’t appropriate, that this man should not have been talking to her like this. But she knew, deep down, in some part of herself in which she had never before looked, that she was flattered. She choked that part and let the meanness of her face come into her voice. “I’m leaving,” she said, and rose to her feet before he could say anything else. “You should be ashamed of yourself, using your position to prey on women like this. If I had been weaker what would you have done? How many women have you done this to?”
She felt vindicated when he gave a start and jolted to his feet. “You have misjudged me,” he said. “I have never—”
“Tell someone who cares,” Charlotte said, feeling powerful.
She turned away just as he made to walk around the desk. She paced from the office and to her car without pausing, only looking back once to see if he was following her. He wasn’t.
Good, she told herself. It is good that he isn’t following. You don’t want him to follow. What he said was entirely inappropriate. He is a doctor and you are his patient. How dare he say such a thing! So why did she feel regret as she drove home? Why did she wish she could rewind time and take back her words? Again and again she reasoned that the way she had reacted was right. But already she wished she could see him again, not to do anything, but just to be in that room with him a little longer, have him stare at her a little harder.
“Too late now,” she sighed, as she unlocked her apartment. She walked to her bedroom and sighed again. She lay on her side and stared into the sunlight that filtered through her blinds.
Too late.
****
Charlotte spent the next week doing not much else than regret the way she had ended things with the superstar doctor. She visited Simone, read a novel, and even consulted with her workplace a few times, advising on cases whilst she was away. But all the while Elliot Sanderson was in the back of her mind, like the noise of a fan in a loud room. She could hear him, calling out to her; it wasn’t loud enough to grab her full attention, and it wasn’t quiet enough to ignore completely. She replayed the scene in her head, over and over, and wondered why she had reacted so harshly. Yes, he had been inappropriate. But she had liked it, hadn’t she?
She knew what she was doing was desperate, but she didn’t care. A week after their initial meeting, Charlotte decided to pretend she was ill. She called the doctor’s office and asked specifically for Elliot Sanderson. To her surprise, the receptionist said that was fine. She was confused for a moment – patients usually did not request specific doctors – until the receptionist said: “Dr. Sanderson has ordered that if you call, we are to direct you to him.” She was flustered at that, but ended the phone call as genially as she could.
Suddenly, she felt as though she had played right into the doctor’s hands. He had known she was going to call again, then, and he had planned for it. He had known that when she walked out he would see her again. She didn’t know whether to be offended or
She was steeling herself to demand that he say whatever it was he was going to say when he smiled. “I want to take you to the best restaurant in town,” he said. “I have a private room. We can be alone there and get to know each other better.”
“What—”
“I want to show you the time of your life.”
“Doctor—”
“I want you to submit to my every passion.”
“Doctor,” Charlotte said, more firmly. “This isn’t appropriate.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Charlotte gripped the edges of the desk. She kept telling herself that this wasn’t appropriate, that this man should not have been talking to her like this. But she knew, deep down, in some part of herself in which she had never before looked, that she was flattered. She choked that part and let the meanness of her face come into her voice. “I’m leaving,” she said, and rose to her feet before he could say anything else. “You should be ashamed of yourself, using your position to prey on women like this. If I had been weaker what would you have done? How many women have you done this to?”
She felt vindicated when he gave a start and jolted to his feet. “You have misjudged me,” he said. “I have never—”
“Tell someone who cares,” Charlotte said, feeling powerful.
She turned away just as he made to walk around the desk. She paced from the office and to her car without pausing, only looking back once to see if he was following her. He wasn’t.
Good, she told herself. It is good that he isn’t following. You don’t want him to follow. What he said was entirely inappropriate. He is a doctor and you are his patient. How dare he say such a thing! So why did she feel regret as she drove home? Why did she wish she could rewind time and take back her words? Again and again she reasoned that the way she had reacted was right. But already she wished she could see him again, not to do anything, but just to be in that room with him a little longer, have him stare at her a little harder.
“Too late now,” she sighed, as she unlocked her apartment. She walked to her bedroom and sighed again. She lay on her side and stared into the sunlight that filtered through her blinds.
Too late.
****
Charlotte spent the next week doing not much else than regret the way she had ended things with the superstar doctor. She visited Simone, read a novel, and even consulted with her workplace a few times, advising on cases whilst she was away. But all the while Elliot Sanderson was in the back of her mind, like the noise of a fan in a loud room. She could hear him, calling out to her; it wasn’t loud enough to grab her full attention, and it wasn’t quiet enough to ignore completely. She replayed the scene in her head, over and over, and wondered why she had reacted so harshly. Yes, he had been inappropriate. But she had liked it, hadn’t she?
She knew what she was doing was desperate, but she didn’t care. A week after their initial meeting, Charlotte decided to pretend she was ill. She called the doctor’s office and asked specifically for Elliot Sanderson. To her surprise, the receptionist said that was fine. She was confused for a moment – patients usually did not request specific doctors – until the receptionist said: “Dr. Sanderson has ordered that if you call, we are to direct you to him.” She was flustered at that, but ended the phone call as genially as she could.
Suddenly, she felt as though she had played right into the doctor’s hands. He had known she was going to call again, then, and he had planned for it. He had known that when she walked out he would see her again. She didn’t know whether to be offended or
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