by Risk, Mona
“That’s what he said, still...”
“I’ll be standing beside you this time.” He gently rubbed her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
The confidence in his tone must have seeped inside her. She nodded with a weak smile. “Thank you. How come you changed your mind and decided to stay? What about your grandmother?”
His mouth twitched as he stared at the windshield. It had been one of the most difficult decisions he’d had to make. Almost as difficult as his decision to leave Holly seven years ago to help his sister and family in San Juan.
“This newborn is holding onto his life by a tiny thread. I thought about his father and mother and their horrible angst. What if this baby were Paulito?”
“Oh, my God. Paulito?” Her body trembled against his side.
“You see what I mean? I guess being a parent makes us better doctors. As much as I’m worried about Abuelita, I couldn’t turn my back and abandon our little patient.”
“But what about your Abuelita?”
“I know her cardiologist. He’s the best in San Juan. I pray she can hang on until I arrive.”
“So you’ll go?”
“Right after the surgery. Only for a day. Now, go inside while I pick up Paulito. We need some sleep. I’ll call my sister in a few hours.”
****
In her bathroom, Holly shed her scrubs, showered, and slipped on her blue nightgown and robe. The French satin soothed her overheated skin. After blow-drying her hair, she stretched on her bed and switched off the light, grateful for the reprieve from nightshift.
An hour later, she was still awake, chewing on her lower lip in the dark. What were the chances of survival for her little patient?
In spite of Marc’s reassurance, the nightmare came back to haunt her. Her baby brother’s death and the preemie she’d lost in her first month of fellowship. Tomorrow she’d be the neonatologist in charge. The one to assume responsibility.
Would she also be the incompetent doctor who couldn’t save a baby? Tears of stress streamed down her cheeks.
She slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the baby’s room. She needed to see Paulito, to hold a healthy baby in her arms and erase the terrible images of dying infants from her mind.
Without turning the light on, she picked up Paulito. “I love you,” she mumbled with a broken voice and sniffled while cradling him.
“Holly?” In the dark, Marc’s murmur reached her like a caress. She turned around with the baby in her arms and collided with his chest. His naked chest. “Paulito wasn’t crying. I was sitting in the rocking chair. What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” She tried to suppress the quivering of her lips. The silk of his boxers rubbed against her thighs. She forgot about the next day’s surgery, a stronger anxiety storming into her belly. She was almost in Marc’s arms. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep either.” He took the baby and lowered him into his crib. “Come,” he said as he tugged at her hand and led her out of the room.
In the hallway, Marc switched the light on. Holly’s sexy blue nightgown skimmed the middle of her thighs. The strap of her nightie drifted from her shoulder down her arm. He swallowed. Hard. Where was the Mickey Mouse shirt when he needed it to douse his lust?
He trailed a finger on her cheek, along the wet path of her tears. “You’ve been crying.”
“I’m...just so worried about tomorrow’s surgery.”
He cupped her face between his hands, keeping her at arm’s length from his taut body. It would be the wrong time for her to feel his erection pulsing against her belly. Not when she needed professional reassurance. He’d help her get over her fears. Then he’d rush under the shower. Even if his arms itched to close around her waist. Even if he’d die a slow death to control his yearning.
He sucked in a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Listen to me, Holly.” He hoped his voice sounded assertive, business-like. “You’re an excellent neonatologist. I saw you at work. You can do it. Carmichael knows it. That’s why he insisted that you be there for his grandson.”
“What if the baby dies? The cardiologist said he had only a fifty percent chance.”
“You have to distance yourself from the case.”
She closed her eyes. He felt her shiver and realized she’d always suffered when losing a patient. It was the downside of their profession.
He dropped his hands to her shoulders, gently squeezing them to reassure her. “We’ll do everything possible to save him and help his parents deal with the stress.” With a superhuman effort to control his lust and cope with his own torture, he added, “Now, you need to sleep to be fresh tomorrow.”
God almighty, he deserved a medal for this self-imposed sacrifice. She stood clothed in only a flimsy nightie, not ten inches from his hot, burning body. He’d been aching to hold her for the past two months. And now he was urging her to go to bed. By herself.
She shook her head. “I tried. I couldn’t.”
Caramba! Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. He wasn’t competing for sainthood.
He slipped his hands behind her head. “I could massage your neck to help you sleep.” Only her neck. He damn well hoped his fingers wouldn’t wander. “I mean if you want.” He’d give her the opportunity to refuse and protect them both from a sleepless night.
She opened her beautiful eyes wide. “I want...you.” She mouthed the last word. His jaw dropped. He wondered if he’d heard correctly, but there was no doubt about the passion simmering in the blue-green eyes fixed on him.
He slid a hand along her back and brought her tight against his pulsing body. “Querida, I want you too. But tomorrow—”
“Forget tomorrow. Now.” She raised her head, her lips inching dangerously close to his.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a last attempt to remind her—and himself—he was her guest, the housemate who’d promised to maintain a business-like arrangement between them.
As he gazed at her face, she whimpered, “Kiss me, Marc.”
It was precisely what he had in mind. The only thing he could think about.
Desire coiled inside his belly as he closed his lips over hers. His tongue teased and explored the recesses of her mouth. Her arms hooked around his neck. Her fingers laced behind his nape. Dios, she tasted so sweet.
Welding herself to his body, she responded with the passion he remembered so well, the fervor under her cool façade that amazed him every time he kissed her. They clung to each other, like starved and greedy animals, their kisses wild and voracious.
With a moan, she pulled away and inhaled. His lips skimmed along her jaw and nuzzled the soft skin of her throat. He inhaled the familiar fragrance of jasmine. “Oh, Holly, sweet Holly. How I’ve waited for this moment.”
“Mmm.” She sighed and tilted her head.
Slipping his hand up her side, he cupped one full breast, his thumb stroking a peaked nipple through her nightgown, the satin soft against his fingers. Her moan was music to his ears. He tugged at a strap and inched down the top of her nightgown, his hand seeking her flesh and fondling.
Her hands spread over his chest, then dug into his shoulders. Electric charges shot through his body as she leaned fully against him. He was hot, burning, incandescent. She cradled his face between her palms and nibbled on his lips. He opened his mouth and deepened their kiss, sucking her tongue and tormenting it.
Without breaking the contact of their mouths, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to his room.
Holly smiled, her heartbeat accelerating, her face flushed. She hadn’t been to his bedroom since the day he showed her the painted walls.
When he lowered her into the middle of his bed, she opened her arms to him. She’d tasted his kisses and tried his lovemaking. Talk about fireworks.
How could she have floated through the years denying herself the best life could offer? Marc, the friend and lover.
How many times had she suppressed the fantasies of feeling his arms around her waist and h
is hands on her skin?
She wanted him now, wanted to grab a chunk of happiness with both hands and bite into it.
“Just a second, sweetheart. I want to see you first.” He bent over her to slide both her nightgown and panties down her legs.
She helped him by wiggling out of her clothes.
His gaze zeroed in on her breasts and trailed lower, sending tendrils of fire to her belly and between her legs. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice huskier than she’d ever heard it.
She reached to the elastic band at his waist. With an impatient groan, he stepped out of his boxers. She looked her fill and admired the man towering above her. Muscular and lean. Even more masculine and handsome than she remembered.
And he was hers.
At least for the moment. She wanted her present.
But the future...
Forget the future.
Marc didn’t believe in forever words. And she’d crossed out marriage in favor of her career.
Grab your present. Live it to the full.
She took a deep breath, inhaling his after-shave and male scent. Her hands squeezed his shoulders as she lowered her eyelids and concentrated on feeling. His tongue played with her mouth, his fingers with the tips of her breasts, his hardness with her softness. His lips glided down her throat, then closed on the hardened peaks of her breasts and suckled.
A quiver ran down her spine. It was good, better than her memories, but she wanted more. She wanted everything he could give her.
A sigh of joy escaped her when his mouth slithered to her belly button, lapped it, and trailed down. She arched and moaned.
This is how it should be.
“Yes, querida,” he breathed against her thighs, and she realized she had voiced her approval.
“My turn,” she whispered. She pushed him away from her and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, caressing its length with amazement. Hard and smooth. Strong and pulsing.
He groaned.
She smiled, delighted to please and torture him, and then suddenly she froze. “We can’t. Not without...”
Their gazes collided. And held.
He cursed in Spanish, scanned the room, and raised his arms in desperation. “You know, sweetheart, I’ve been celibate for quite sometime.”
Her mouth opened on a huge smile.
He had changed.
She reveled in the fact it was true. “Oh, Marc, it’s—” Thrilled with the information, she stopped short before blurting his self-discipline couldn’t please her more. But now was the time for him to collect his just reward. She chewed on her lip with frustration. Damn it.
Abstinence had prevailed in her life too.
And then she remembered the pharmaceutical samples she often received. “Hold on a sec.”
“What?”
She jumped out of the bed. “I’ll check the bathroom closet.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows arched ominously.
“Hey, don’t get any wrong ideas. I think I have a box of those ad samples that companies send us for promotion. Maybe, just maybe.”
She rushed to the restroom and came back with a triumphant smile. That was close. She threw him a box.
Exhaling with relief, he tore off the plastic wrap and looked upward. She almost giggled. “Thanking a lucky star?”
“Oh, yeah. Saved by the drug reps. From now on, I’ll have a nice word for them when they come to dump their samples on my desk. I’ll assure them I’ll never throw away a single sample,” he pledged with conviction as he protected himself and dropped on the bed beside her.
His gaze skimmed her nakedness with unbearable slowness, setting every inch of her skin on fire.
She quivered. “Marc.”
“I’m here, querida.” He lowered himself on top of her and cupped her breast in his hand.
She forgot everything but him. His hands, his lips, his body, his smell.
Excitement swirled through her belly when his fingers reached between her legs. “Oh, Marc,” she whispered against his lips. Her mind reeled with a last coherent thought. She wanted him. Now.
Drowning in pleasure, she gripped his shoulders, ushering his head toward hers. His lips moved to her mouth and his fingers released her. He raised himself and slid inside her, withdrew, went deeper, rocking himself, filling her as she wound her legs around him.
Thousands of silver stars exploded behind her closed eyes. Her palms spread over the taut muscles of his back. She held him molded to her as he stiffened and shuddered, cradling her tightly against his body.
****
Satiated and peaceful, Marc rolled away from the soft form cushioning him. Holly opened beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that gleamed like a blue sea.
“Sweet Holly. You’re gorgeous. Amazing.”
Flattening her hands on his naked torso, she traced his ribs. “And you’re very handsome.”
He gathered her in his arms and rested his chin on her hair, inhaling her lingering perfume.
Life was wonderful.
And then it came back to him.
Slowly. Reluctantly. Like a black spider tearing through their web of present bliss.
Abuelita’s heart attack. Baby Brendon’s surgery. He’d completely forgotten his troubles in Holly’s arms.
He shifted and raised himself, leaning his elbow on the bed. Sparks of fire glittered in her eyes as she still floated in the aftermath of their lovemaking, satisfied and serene.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she fingered his scowl.
He caught her hand and pressed it against his lips. “You have to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long, difficult day.”
She shifted and rolled over him, pressing against his length, her blue irises darkened with desire. “I need another kiss to help me sleep. Then I’ll go back to my room. Away from temptation.” Her lips curled into a teasing, adorable smile, while her breasts rubbed and tantalized his chest.
He was instantly hard, his resolve threatening to dissipate with her touch. Squeezing her in his arms, he took her mouth in a searing kiss.
She squirmed against his body, sending another wave of heat to his belly and beads of perspiration to his forehead.
Snatching his mouth away he grumbled, “We can’t do this again now. Just sleep in my arms.”
She squinted at him. “Why? Didn’t you like it? I thought it was terrific.”
“It was great.” Dynamite. “But we have surgery tomorrow.” And he’d have to call home. A pang of regret punched him in the stomach. Still throbbing with desire, he tried to control his ragged breathing as he covered her naked body. No need to tempt a starving man. He’d deprived himself too long to resist her delectable body now.
“Hmm, maybe later?” She sighed and snuggled against his chest.
“Yes, later,” he whispered, stroking her hair behind her ear. Would his Abuelita still be alive in the morning?
Holly yawned, inched closer to him and slept peacefully, her face cuddled in the hollow of his shoulder. Exactly where he wanted her to be. Tonight and every night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A few hours later, Marc woke up from a dreamless and heavy sleep. He glanced at the soft form curled against him and suppressed a sigh. He could spend the whole day in bed with her. She was so beautiful, so full of life and passion.
I think I’ve fallen in love. Seriously in love.
He wanted her with him. Not for a month or two. He wanted her forever beside him. In his arms.
Forever?
Patience, man. They had their first date only last night. He wasn’t one to jump into long term commitment at the blink of an eye when the word commitment provoked an itch on his sensitive mind, an allergic reaction.
Let’s take one day at a time.
It would be a pleasure to date Holly for some time, until they both got used to the idea they were meant to be a couple. He allowed himself a smug grin. Let’s enjoy one night at a time.
Why did he have to get up? He yawned, ready to drift back into b
lissful dreams.
Ah, the phone call. Dios, he had to call Gabriella.
He eased out of Holly’s arms, determined to come back soon to his heaven. The bed creaked under his shifting weight.
Holly bolted up and turned her head toward the digital clock. “Oh, my God. It’s already eight. You have to call.”
“Right away.”
They were back into reality. He sat on his side of the bed and spread the sheet over his lap. He switched on the night table lamp and dialed.
Still groggy with sleep, Holly lay down and watched the play of his back muscles with eager interest. She loved his back as much as his hard chest and strong arms. Actually, she loved every part of this man.
She stretched, a delicious feeling lingering all over her body. A fabulous feeling.
At thirty, she’d finally found the perfect lover. Now she knew why all her efforts to erase him from her memory had failed. He was always there in the back of her mind, his lazy smile and blazing gaze trapping her in an unyielding cocoon, even when she played the cool, career woman. She had fallen for Marc seven years ago and had never been able to forget him.
She was in love with Marc. Again.
Oh, God, that was terrible. She was in love with the same man who’d hurt her before, the man who dreaded love and commitment and had avoided them like the plague.
But he’d been so wonderful with her, behaving almost like a loving husband. Almost. Nothing was sure with Marc until she heard the right words.
Should she share her feelings?
No. He had to tell her first.
That is, if he loved her, he’d have to do it right. After seven years of disappointment, she wanted to experience his passionate declaration of love.
He was still on the phone, apparently in a heated discussion. She didn’t understand the Spanish conversation but the names of Gabriella and Reina kept coming up. His sisters, obviously.
His voice rose and his left hand waggled a lot in cadence every time he pronounced the last name. Why was he so upset with Reina? He said, “Ciao,” banged the receiver in its cradle and remained rooted in place.
Lord, was his grandmother worse?
