A Match for the Doctor

by Marie Ferrarella

  A warmth surrounded her when she thought of staying here with Simon under these conditions. If she had an iota of common sense, she’d leave.

  Temptation won out.

  “Maybe,” Kennon allowed, wavering, “just for a little bit.”

  Because she couldn’t just stand there in the middle of the room, looking into his incredibly blue eyes, she crossed over to the sofa.

  Like someone trying to pull herself out of a trance, Kennon lowered herself onto the sofa, acutely aware that her lungs felt more than a wee bit short of breath.

  And she knew why.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For a long moment, the only sound heard was the crackle of the fire and the insistent tapping of the rain against the windows.

  And then Simon spoke. “By the way, I have to ask.” His eyes indicated the sweat suit she wore. “Is that mine?”

  Embarrassment whispered along her cheeks, shading them all over again. Why hadn’t she remembered to change back? Or, better yet, why hadn’t she said no to the girls in the first place?

  “Yes,” she murmured, then added, “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t quite follow her. “For what?”

  She started to explain, aware that the bottom line was that she was the adult and should have been the one to draw the line, not give in to two girls under the age of nine.

  “After I had the girls change out of their wet clothes, they insisted I do the same.” She shrugged. “I told them that I didn’t have any extra clothes with me, which was when Meghan ran into your room and grabbed these.” She looked down at the sweatshirt she had slipped on. “They forced me to get out of my clothes and put yours on.”

  “I would like to have seen that.” And then, seeing the intriguing shade of deep pink that came over her cheeks, he realized what Kennon thought he was saying, and quickly clarified. “Having two pint-size little women force you to do what they said. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  She threw up her hand, as if to physically stop his words.

  “I know you didn’t,” she said quickly, sparing them both the embarrassment of having what they were thinking put into words.

  “You said that awfully quickly,” Simon observed. He had no idea why he was suddenly playing devil’s advocate, or why he was so intrigued with her blush, but wondering didn’t deter him. “Are you that sure that I wouldn’t have those kinds of thoughts? I’m not a robot, Kennon, even though at times I might seem as if I’m on automatic pilot.”

  She hadn’t meant to insult him.

  Kennon let out a long, ragged breath, trying to pull herself together. The way Simon watched her flustered her and made her feel insanely warm all over. Far warmer than anything the fire in the hearth could achieve on its own.

  “I don’t think of you as a robot,” she heard herself saying. Her mouth incredibly bone-dry, each word she uttered felt as if she was measuring it out slowly. Almost too slowly.

  She’d managed to stir his curiosity. “Oh? How do you think of me?”

  She went blank. Her brain felt like a field mouse, lost in a darkened warehouse, searching for the path home. Desperate, she said the first thing that came to her. “As the girls’ father.”

  He was that, but suddenly, without examining why, he wanted more. “And that’s all?”

  Kennon could feel her heart pound erratically, as if any second now, it would break out of her chest.

  “No,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, “that’s not all.”

  Sitting next to her, Simon read between the lines. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Kennon?”

  Now, there was an understatement, she thought.

  “Yes.” Realizing what she’d just said and how it had to sound to him, she amended her response. “No.” But Kennon knew that that wasn’t strictly true, so she settled for “Maybe,” accompanying the word with a vague, half shrug.

  “Well, that about covers it all, doesn’t it?” he said, amused. “Yes, no and maybe.” He paused for a second, smiled, and then said, “Ditto.”

  It was Kennon’s turn to be confused. She shook her head. “Excuse me?”

  “Ditto,” Simon obligingly repeated for her. “That means—”

  She stopped him before he could get further sidetracked. “I know what the word means.” That wasn’t what she was asking. “But why would I make you uncomfortable?”

  If he were someone else, a flippant answer would come to his lips, shielding him. But he wasn’t someone else and any answer he gave had to be the truth.

  “Because you’re making me feel things, Kennon, things I was certain I would never be able to feel again. And it’s uncomfortable because it hurts to feel again. Hurts and yet it’s…” He searched for a word to describe this new/old territory he found himself wandering through. The only one that came to mind was “exhilarating.”

  He cupped her cheek, his eyes on hers, knowing that he was treading on dangerous ground. The ice was thin beneath his feet and any second, liable to crack, sending him plummeting into the freezing water. He crossed anyway.

  “Part of me doesn’t want ‘this’ and part of me is so relieved to be back among the living again.” He stopped and shook his head. To his own ear, he sounded as if he was just babbling. “Is any of this making any sense to you at all?”

  Kennon pressed her lips together. “Yes. An infinite amount of sense,” she finally told him haltingly. “And I do understand.”

  Because she was afraid, too.

  Afraid to care, afraid of being hurt. She hadn’t suffered through a spouse’s death, but she’d experienced the death of love, the death of something she thought she had, but didn’t, and that carried its own pain with it. And its own unique set of fears.

  “Then I’m not losing my mind?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh.

  Instead of answering him verbally, Kennon leaned over and kissed him.

  It was meant to be a soft, reassuring kiss, a silent affirmation that she was experiencing the same kind of confusing feelings that he was.

  Passion wasn’t supposed to be part of the equation, but it was there suddenly, uninvited and taking control of the situation like a well-trained commando. Opening doors that had been shut, making sensations suddenly burst loose of their shackles. It swiftly and completely filled the emptiness with its presence, like a plastic life raft being set free.

  The pulse that had been hammering inside her with increased urgency suddenly went into triple time. This was what they had to be talking about when they said “instant chemistry,” because she felt it, felt the attraction, full-blown and overwhelming, that had seized her the moment she had pressed her lips to his.

  Her head swirled as she lost her bearings as well as herself in the kiss that he deepened. Deepened to the point that it became bottomless—and she was spiraling down into it.

  Oh, no, he shouldn’t be doing this.

  Granted, Kennon had technically started it, but he was supposed to be strong enough to just pull away, not leap into the center of it like a starving man leaped into a banquet.

  But there was no denying that she didn’t just stir him—he could walk away from that if it involved sex, even though admittedly it would be difficult—she made him feel as if she’d set him on fire.

  She made him want her with a fierceness that went down to his very bones. Made him aware that he had needs he would have sworn no longer existed. Needs that now urgently begged to be addressed and sated.

  The kiss grew in length and depth and strength, engulfing him as well as her. Collectively taking them prisoner. He didn’t feel he was in control of what was going on and suspected that neither did she. This was bigger than either one of them.

  His breath was stolen away, along with his will, and while a small part of him still clung to the belief that, at the end, he could break away, for now Simon allowed himself to be swept away. He savored and absorbed what had been gone from his life for so many long, haunting months.

  His lips left h
ers, moving to other parts of her face and neck, raining a multitude of kisses on each new place he found.

  The kisses multiplied in number and strength, even as he struggled to contain his hunger and the growing desire within him that threatened to consume him if left unfulfilled.

  Lost in a burning haze, Simon still felt her hands on his chest, felt Kennon pushing him back, at first so lightly he thought he was imagining it, and then with more force.

  She’d changed her mind, he thought.

  At least one of them had the strength to stop this before there was no turning back.

  A sense of loss pervaded through him.

  But before he could say anything, before he could acknowledge that he hadn’t meant for things to get out of hand this way, Kennon breathlessly said, “The girls,” and without further elaboration, he knew what she meant, what she was trying to tell him.

  They couldn’t do this in front of his daughters, even if the girls were both sound asleep.

  “You want to stop.”

  Kennon took it as a question. And as such, answered it, correcting him. “I want to go upstairs.”

  He wasn’t prepared for the excitement that pulsated through him in response to her words. Even so, he stifled the very real urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her off to his room without another word, fearing that word might represent a change of heart on her part.

  But Simon knew he couldn’t live with himself if he took advantage of their mutual insanity without giving Kennon a chance to think things through. And in doing so, to change her mind.

  So he looked into her eyes and asked her, “Are you sure?”

  For now, she had managed to banish Pete’s memory and the damage it had done to her heart and to her self-esteem. She’d eradicated everything from her mind but this moment and this man. And the way he made her feel: glorious and immortal.

  “I’m sure,” she whispered, surprised that she could actually form words and speak.

  Simon glanced back over his shoulder toward where his daughters were sleeping. He wanted to assure himself that they were really asleep.

  One peek into the tent gave him his answer.

  Barring the earth opening up beneath them, his daughters appeared in deep slumber.

  Wordlessly, he linked the fingers of his right hand with Kennon’s left and led the way upstairs. The moment they were in his room, he closed the door behind him.

  Turning toward the woman who had raised his body temperature to really dangerous levels, he said, “Last chance.”

  Her eyes on his, Kennon raised herself up on her toes. She threaded her arms around his neck. “No, I hope not,” she murmured just before she pressed her lips to his.

  And reignited them both.

  A mutual frenzy instantly seized them, as if they were both acutely aware that they were on borrowed time and had to make the most of the minutes they had.

  His mouth now sealed to hers, Simon tugged on the sweatshirt, pulling it up along her torso and then off her arms. He sent it to the floor a beat before he began to do the same to her sweatpants. In almost slow motion, he moved the soft material down the length of her legs. Exciting her.

  Exciting himself.

  When the sweatpants pooled about her ankles, Kennon gingerly stepped out of them.

  That was when he realized that all she had left on was a thong.

  His throat threatened to close on him.

  Simon felt her lips draw back into a smile beneath his. “I guess you want your sweat suit back,” she murmured, her words fading into his mouth.

  The thought of her scent imprinted on his sweat clothes sent his senses scrambling with deep anticipation. As did the feel of her hands on his body as she began to slowly peel away his clothes from his skin.

  Impatience seized him a moment later and it became a joint effort.

  The feel of her long fingers along his bare skin enflamed Simon, making him want more.

  Their clothes in a jumbled heap on the floor, he pressed her down onto his bed. Struggling to hold himself in check a few moments longer, Simon shifted his weight away from her.

  Just as she was about to ask if anything was wrong, he began pleasuring her with his hands, with his teeth and then his lips as he reveled in the feel, the scent, the very taste of her.

  The more he did, the more he wanted her until he thought he would explode or dissolve if he didn’t seal their union.

  Shifting Kennon so that she was beneath him again, Simon slowly slid his body along over hers. He locked his hands with hers and became part of her as the ultimate moment beckoned to him.

  His hips rocked against hers with more and more intensity until, locked in a kiss, he felt rather than heard her cry out his name. At the same time, he felt her name echo in his throat.

  The starburst receded.

  The ensuing euphoria gentled until it faded away into a whisper.

  As it faded, guilt beckoned to him, growing more and more urgent in its demands and he struggled to keep it at bay.

  What could he say to her, Simon wondered as their breathing began to settle into a regular pattern. Thank you? I’m sorry? Neither response seemed right or even remotely adequate.

  He hadn’t meant to do this, even though he’d wanted to with every fiber of his being.

  “Kennon,” he finally began, his voice all but hoarse. “I—”

  She could hear it. Hear the regret. The apology. She didn’t want to hear it, not yet, not while she was hugging the moment, the sensations that had given her life.

  Rather than let Simon utter another word, she turned in to him and then shifted so that she was on top of him, straddling his body with her own. Silencing the words with her mouth on his.

  The blood still surging wildly in her veins, Kennon began to make love to him all over again, nipping at his lips, pressing kisses along his neck and chest, running her fingertips lightly along his hard body, until she’d managed to bring him around, arousing Simon and getting him to join in the venture. And then, just like that, she was making love with him the way she wanted, not just to him.

  The wildness that had seized them both the first time around now settled into a more temperate pace, allowing them to savor rather than devour, to roam rather than speed. And to enjoy this revisit the way they hadn’t allowed themselves to enjoy the journey originally.

  Time stood still as they made love languidly.

  And somewhere along the line, while all this was going on, though she did it against her will and most definitely without her consent, Kennon lost her heart to him.

  Completely.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The thunder had stopped. The rain continued, tapping on the roof in a steady rhythm. The house remained bathed in darkness as somewhere outside, slicker-clothed crews from the electric company valiantly struggled to restore power to the downed areas.

  Simon had no idea what time it was, only that it was night and that for the first time in many months, he was not alone in his bed.

  The perfume that Kennon wore subtly drifted into his consciousness. He held her in his arms, waiting for the beating of his heart to settle. Waiting for order to be restored to his body. To his world.

  Eventually, the short, heavy breathing became longer, easier. He banished all thoughts from his mind, struggling to enjoy this moment in time for as long as he could.

  Kennon lay beside him, curled against his body, listening to Simon breathe. Listening until his even breathing told her that he was asleep. It took a long while, but she was finally satisfied.

  Afraid of the conversation once he woke up, afraid of detecting regret in his eyes and most afraid that Simon would see something altogether different in hers when he looked, Kennon slowly slipped out of his bed.

  Picking up the discarded sweat suit, she laid it across a chair, then quickly went into the bathroom, where she’d left the wet clothing she’d stripped off hours ago.

  A lifetime ago.

  The clothes were still damp
, but that didn’t really matter to her. It was an inconvenience, not a problem.

  What mattered right now was making good her escape before Simon opened his eyes again and shattered this lovely interlude she was holding close to her heart.

  She was behaving like a coward, a role that was not just foreign to her, but odious, as well. But right now, she just couldn’t face reality. This way, if she left before Simon woke up, she would be able to cling to the sensation that making love with him, not once, but three times, three glorious times, created within her.

  There would be plenty of time down the line to come to her senses, to place tonight on the shelf with the other broken dreams that littered her life. For now she just wanted to go on being happy, and she knew that she could only do that if she continued to maintain this world of illusions that was swirling around her.

  Using her fingers to comb back her hair, Kennon deliberately avoided looking at herself in the mirror. With her shoes pressed to her chest, rather than on her feet, where she would risk making noise and waking him up, Kennon sneaked out of first the bathroom and then his bedroom.

  Once outside Simon’s door, she eased it closed again and made her way down the stairs.

  Mercifully, the dying light from the fireplace illuminated the living room, so the search for her purse went quickly enough. The sound of harmonious, even breathing told her that the girls were still asleep.

  There was no one to impede her getaway.

  She had no idea why that thought saddened her, when making a quick, soundless escape was all she told herself she wanted. But a sadness did descend over her, taking her prisoner and making it hard for her to even breathe.

  The oppressive sadness all but flattened her as she stepped outside. Kennon closed the front door behind her in slow motion, the tempo created by an overwhelming reluctance to leave.

  Snapping out of it, she forced herself to make her way quickly to her car. She hardly noticed—and cared less—that the rain was beating down on her.

  Kennon was completely drenched by the time she reached her vehicle and got inside. It made no difference one way or another. She was too busy struggling to keep her tears from falling to care about the small puddle forming on the floor mat beneath the pedals.