He inclined his head. “Yes.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, they were seated across from each other at a black, wrought iron table with two margaritas, a basket of tortilla chips, salsa and guacamole dip between them. After the decision to join him was made, all Lina’s reservations left her, and they had once again fallen into the easy rapport she’d experienced with him from their first meeting.

“I recommend the fajitas.” Dr. Drayton was leaned back in his chair, watching her as she looked over the menu.

“The food smells delicious, but I had a late breakfast. I think I’ll stick to the chips.”

“You’ll have to try mine,” he said after the waiter left with his order. “They’re the best in the city.”

“Do you live close by?” He’d taken off his sunglasses, and she was again struck by the brilliance of his eyes in the sunlight.

“I do. Less than a mile away. I assume your son is a serious lacrosse player?”

“I don’t think he has much of a choice. Phil won the Tewaaraton Award two years in a row at Maryland.”

“No kidding. I had no idea he played Division I lacrosse.”

“It was all a bit wasted on me. I’m not a big sports person.”

“No?”

“I still don’t understand the rules,” she admitted. “And I don’t like watching. I was always worried Phil was going to hurt someone, and now I worry someone that plays like Phil is going to hurt Logan. It’s just too physical.”

“I take it Logan isn’t a physical player?”

“To Phil’s great disappointment, no, not naturally. Phil thinks he can learn to be, but I’m not sure it’s something that can be taught. It was innate in Phil to be that aggressive. Logan takes after me, I’m afraid, and he puts so much pressure on himself—trying to measure up. That’s why I’m here with him today. He didn’t want his father watching.”

“I can imagine those would be very large shoes to fill. My son has no such worries. I was never a competitive athlete. I was more of a nerd in high school.”

“You weren’t a nerd. You may not have been an athlete, but you were definitely not a nerd.”

The corners of his lips turned up. “How could you possibly know that?”

“There is nothing nerdish about you.”

He ran his arm along the top of the chair next to his, his eyes continuing to meet hers. “I’m not a nerd now.”

No, he definitely wasn’t a nerd. And as she looked into his eyes, she became very aware that he was much more than a doctor. Nicholas Drayton was most definitely a man.

She lifted her drink and took a swallow, trying to calm her beating heart. “What about your son? Is he a nerd or…?”

“Hardly.” He laughed. “He’s probably the type of player you don’t want your son to play against. His life revolves around lacrosse. It’s all a bit wasted on me too. I’m not a fan of competitive sports. I find them pointless. As Rumi said in the thirteenth century, ‘Take someone who doesn’t keep score, who’s not looking to be richer, or afraid of losing. That man is free.’ I’m paraphrasing a bit.”