Instant Gratification

by Jill Shalvis

  “Yes,” TJ said fervently.

  Okay, true. Sex was an extremely nice fix to just about everything, but he knew he needed more than that this time. “Remember when I bought that house on the corner of Main and Sierra and fixed it up, then sold it to Old Man Pete?”

  “Your first project. I remember. He turned it into the convenience store next to his gas station.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You nearly lost your ass on that project.”

  “That’s because I was twenty-two and got screwed on the loan, but it worked out. It’s not about the money, TJ. It’s about doing something I love. This…” he gestured around him. “It’s good. It gives Cam a purpose, and it’s what you love, but I need more. I need something for me.”

  TJ just stared at him. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Christ, Stone. What’ll we do without you?”

  Now he stared up at the sky, feeling it weighing down on him. “I’m not leaving. I’m not asking to leave. I just want some time for me.”

  “Maybe you just need a distraction. Ask her out, man. It’ll help.”

  Stone didn’t have to ask which “her”, he knew exactly. “No.”

  “Is it because she saw you buck ass naked on your first date? That could be construed as a romantic memory, you know.”

  Romantic? True, her hands had been all over him, but she’d been pulling gravel and chunks of rock out of his flesh, her fingers steady as a rock as he’d sworn the room blue.

  Yeah, romantic as hell. “It wasn’t a date, you ass. It was…an encounter. Then I brought her up a mountain to deliver a baby because you didn’t notice that one of your clients was twenty-two months pregnant.”

  “Hey, that could have been romantic, too.”

  “How? How could that have been romantic?”

  TJ thought about it for a minute and then shrugged. “Okay, maybe not.”

  Stone just shook his head.

  “So what do you think you’ll do for your next…encounter? Maybe tell her that the minor heart attack she thinks her father had was in fact a major one, and that if you hadn’t been there he’d have died?”

  “I thought I’d save that for some other time.” Like, oh…never. Never worked for him. Emma wouldn’t thank him for not telling her the truth, he knew that much. Nor would it matter to her that it hadn’t been his truth to tell.

  “Maybe you could try a new tactic.”

  “Like?”

  “Like a date. Without the blood and guts and someone screaming in pain.”

  As the middle child, Stone was the talker, the peacemaker, the one who kept them all together, but as the oldest, TJ usually had the answers, at least when it came to women. “You don’t think that would be a waste of my breath?”

  “I think you’ve got a shot.” TJ smiled. “I’ll put your first-aid kit back so you have it handy. Knowing you, you’ll need it.” With a pat on the back, Stone’s supposedly smarter, wiser, older brother got up and headed toward their clients.

  The next morning, Emma woke up to her cell phone vibrating right off her nightstand. When she finally caught the thing, she saw Spence’s number and felt herself smile.

  Spencer did that for her, made her smile.

  They’d become friends in an undergraduate freshman biology class at Columbia. They’d become friends-with-benefits their junior year when he’d been dumped by his long term girlfriend, and that tradition had continued on an as-needed basis throughout the years. When they were dating others—mostly Spencer, because Emma didn’t often make time for dating, they saw each other less, but in between significant others—again, mostly Spencer’s—they spent more time together. Whenever there were bad breakups, and for Spencer there was never any other kind, they’d occasionally knocked their feet together in bed.

  It’d been a year since they’d last gotten naked, and that wasn’t what Emma wanted from him now. She wanted the company of someone who knew her and accepted her, as is. “Tell me you’re still getting on a plane tomorrow,” she said.

  “I’m already here. I got in late last night to surprise you.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I’ve already been on a mountain bike ride this morning, in the rain, no less, which was amazing. I suppose your lazy ass is still in bed?”

  “What do you mean, you’re here? Here here?” Emma sat up and pushed her hair out of her face as she looked around her childhood bedroom, still so yellow and cheery and full of sweetness that she felt like she got a new cavity every night she slept here. God, she needed coffee. “I don’t see you.”

  “I’m at a place called Wilder Adventures. You know it?”

  She’d in fact been dreaming about Wilder Adventures for nearly two weeks now, or more correctly, of the men who ran it. One in particular.

  Stone.

  Naked.

  Not muddy. Not bleeding. Not teasing her about her battery purchases. “Yes,” she said weakly. “I know it. How do you know it?”

  “My assistant looked up things to do in Wishful and found it. I’m only about four or five miles from you, and it’s sweet. Did you know you can guide out any kind of trip you can imagine? It’s amazing, and—”

  “I know. I’m familiar with it,” she said, closing her eyes tight. Her best friend and sometime casual lover had just slept at the place owned by the man she’d been fantasizing about. She didn’t need a cup of caffeine, she needed an entire pot.

  And possibly a shrink.

  “Anyway, it’s dumping rain, like buckets of rain, and supposedly the road out of here gets tricky without four wheel drive. Did your father leave you a vehicle that you can use to come get me?”

  She got out of bed and padded to the window to open the shades.

  Indeed, it was pouring rain, big fat drops that hit the ground and bounced back up like super balls. She eyed her father’s ancient, massive Ford truck that he’d indeed left for her, and braced herself.

  But just like anything else, she could handle it. “Yes, I have a truck. I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter 7

  The rain had let up as Stone came into the home stretch of a mountain bike race with Nick. He was winning too, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw Doc Sinclair’s truck ambling up their driveway.

  Only it wasn’t Doc Sinclair behind the wheel, but his daughter, the one with the snooty ’tude and cool, steady hands, with the voice like sweet honey, and the bod to match. Surprised to see her, he pulled back, and Nick zipped right past him and over the finish line.

  Emma parked the truck and hopped out, and pretty much leveled him with one flash of those baby blues.

  Over the past few days he’d assured himself she wasn’t as hot as he remembered.

  But she was as hot as he remembered.

  Maybe even more so as she made her way directly toward him, irritation blazing out of her pretty ears.

  She wore another fancy pair of trousers, gray today, and a white top. No doctor’s coat, which allowed him to see all those extremely pleasant curves she carried on her strong, lithe frame. She had real breasts and hips, the ones so often missing from the extreme athletes in his world. The last woman he’d dated had been so toned, she hadn’t had an ounce of softness to her.

  Dr. Emma Sinclair was soft.

  At least on the outside.

  Her fiery auburn hair was loose today, and it flew around her face in the light wind as she strode toward him with purpose, her face tense and not exactly friendly.

  Which was a damn shame, as he was feeling quite friendly. “Hey, Doc,” he said, getting off his bike, barely managing to control his wince from the pain his ribs gave him at the quick movement.

  “What are you doing?”

  He leaned his bike up against a tree. “Just enjoying the day.” And the view. “How about you? What brings you out this way?”

  She came toe to toe with Stone, in her very classy and expensive black heels which now had some mud on them, pressing up to h
is Nikes. Her eyes were stern and serious, conflicting with the scent of some exotic shampoo, and his brain got mixed signals. Sexy woman. Pissed woman.

  “Are you stupid?” she asked. “Or just stubborn?”

  “Uh, is there a third option?”

  “You’re still recovering. You have no business riding like that, getting air, risking crashing—” She went up on her tiptoes and ran a finger over his forehead.

  Yeah, mixed signals, he thought dazedly as her voice brought to mind a teacher-to-errant-pupil sexual fantasy. His gaze ate her up as her fingers ran along his forehead. He couldn’t help it, she was within the perfect eating up distance of about two inches. Hell, if he leaned in even a little bit, they’d be kissing.

  Which would be nice. Really nice.

  “It’s okay,” she said in relief. “You haven’t ripped any stitches. You having pain?”

  Yeah, in his ribs, but he was afraid of the black bag she had slung over her shoulder, so he smiled. “Aw, look at you. Caring about me.”

  Her eyes locked on his. “I care about all my patients.”

  “You make house calls for all of them?”

  She narrowed her eyes and pursed those lips that were a little bit distracting for their fullness. “Delusional,” she decided. “We should have that checked, too.”

  He grinned. “See? Falling for me.”

  “That would be a mistake. I don’t make mistakes. You shouldn’t be mountain biking, Stone.” Without asking, she put her hand on his side, probing at his ribs. She was watching him carefully so he didn’t dare grimace, but she shook her head, reading right through him. “You shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous.”

  The image of him doing just that, being strenuous with her naked in his bed, wouldn’t leave him alone. He wondered if she’d lose some of her tension if he got her out of those city clothes.

  “Honest to God,” she muttered. “Men.” She dropped her hands from him and stepped back. “Racing when you’re still in pain.”

  “You call that racing?” Nick asked, coming close with a laugh. “Please. I could have beaten him with both my hands tied behind my back if I’d wanted.”

  Stone shot Nick a not helping look, and smiled at Emma. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

  “You have seven stitches in your head, a cracked rib, and more road rash than a used car.” She shoved up his shirt, revealing his abs. Her fingers brushed over his bruised skin, and he had an immediate reaction. So did she, given the way she dropped her hands as if he was a hot potato. “You have no business being on that bike, bouncing along on that rough terrain.”

  Well, actually, he did, but he didn’t want to rile her up any more than absolutely necessary in case she was packing a shot of antibiotics in that bag.

  “Rest, elevate, and ice, I told you. Why does no one listen?”

  “I’ve elevated,” he said. Hell, they were standing at 6,300 feet. That had to count.

  “The other day, we flew a group of clients up to the Trinity Ice Flats,” Nick interjected helpfully. “We climbed the ice dams and sat up there for a couple of hours. Stone was hurting so he lay down. On the ice.”

  Emma stared at Nick as if he’d sprouted horns. Without a word she turned on Stone, narrowing her eyes as she swept an angry gaze over him, lingering at his forehead and the stitches she’d put there herself. “You did end up on the climb?”

  “Only a little.”

  “Do you have a death wish?”

  “Only a little.”

  She tossed up her hands. “I give up.” But instead of walking back to her truck, she headed toward the steps to the main lodge.

  He exchanged a look with Nick, who shrugged. “Uh…can I help you?” Stone asked her.

  “I’m picking up a guest you had last night.” She didn’t slow or look back. “Spencer Jenks. He’s with me.”

  Stone had ridden earlier that morning with their New York guest. The polite doctor had been an outdoor enthusiast, but more importantly, outgoing, friendly, and adventurous. In other words, Dr. Emma’s virtual opposite. “Spencer’s with you?”

  “That’s right.”

  He watched her stride up the steps, her heels clicking with forceful purpose on the stone, his gut sinking.

  “Is that the one who saw you naked?” Nick whispered.

  Dr. Spencer Jenks was hers. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t think you impressed her much.”

  When Emma got to the top step, TJ opened the door from the inside and he smiled at her. “Doc Sinclair.”

  She smiled back sweetly. “TJ.”

  “Did you come to check on my idiot brother?”

  Still next to Stone, Nick snickered.

  “Actually,” Emma told him. “I came to pick up my friend Spencer.”

  “Oh. Here I thought maybe you came to kick Stone’s ass for kayaking yesterday. With a cracked rib and all.”

  Emma turned and sent a slow, long, easily decipherable look in Stone’s direction.

  “Did you bring him another shot?” he heard TJ ask hopefully as he directed her inside.

  The lodge door shut before Emma answered, and Stone looked at Nick. “You both suck, you know that?”

  “Ah, don’t be like that.” Nick slung his arm over Stone’s shoulder. “I think she likes you best.”

  Stone shoved him away and Nick laughed. “Hey, if you’re worried about what happened in her office, you can always tell her you’d been swimming in some damn cold water before she made you take your pants off. Then she’d at least understand.”

  Ignoring him, Stone made his way up the stairs to the lodge.

  “Don’t do it, man,” Nick called after him. “That one’s Heartbreak City.”

  Like he didn’t know, but when it came to Emma, apparently he was a glutton for punishment.

  Stone found Emma sitting at the kitchen table with Dr. Spencer Jenks, both being served breakfast by Annie.

  Spencer had an arm around Emma’s shoulders and was grinning at her affectionately as Chuck wound around their ankles, mewing softly, waiting for crumbs to fall. “I’ll get you on a mountain bike yet, babe.”

  “Too dangerous.” She flung his arm off, but her body language was easy and comfortable, telling Stone that these two had a history. A long one.

  Fine. She was taken. He should have assumed that. So she smelled good enough to eat and had eyes that saw beneath his bullshit, which had been a nice change. So he’d been momentarily distracted by her sharp wit and sweet curves. It didn’t matter, because she wasn’t sweet, at least not to him.

  She was probably planning her and Spencer’s reunion sex right now.

  “Thanks again for the ride this morning,” Spencer told Stone as he came into the room. “It was nice to have a day off. I don’t get out of the hospital enough, that’s for sure.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” Stone looked at Emma, who oddly enough wasn’t looking at Spencer with googly eyes, picturing their reunion sex. She was looking right at him.

  “You’re stressing your stitches,” she said. “Stop frowning.”

  “I’m not frowning.”

  “Yeah, you are.” This from Annie, who handed him a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage and sour dough toast, his favorite.