He didn’t care to out anybody, but it was on the tip of his tongue to say, “Honey, Roger’s gay.” He opened his mouth to speak the words, but they refused to come. As soon as she knew, she’d have no need to schedule the rest of their lessons. He’d be a fool to take away her sole reason for being with him.
Talk about irony. After dedicating years to the art of the brief, casual affair, he’d finally found a woman he wanted to spend time with—real time, not just a handful of naked, sweaty hours—and all she wanted from him was sex.
Another realization arrived hot on the heels of the first. It sucked, being the one who wanted more, and he only had five lessons to change her mind.
…
Should she apologize to Tyler for getting all defensive at dinner? Ellie stared out the car window at the dark countryside and pondered the question. Probably, yes, considering she’d let her insecurities get the better of her. She’d accused him of thinking Roger was too good for her, even though she knew Tyler wasn’t the type to judge people by factors over which they had no control, like their pedigree.
He clearly didn’t see her as the ideal woman for Roger, and that hurt. His viewpoint shouldn’t have mattered, but rightly or wrongly his opinion had become important to her. She probably ought to get used to surprised, skeptical reactions. Roger and Melody had been Bluelick’s “it” couple for eons. Everyone naturally expected the new woman in his life to fit the Melody mold—and she so didn’t.
Whether Tyler’s reasons for rejecting the possibility that Roger might be interested in her romantically hinged on those factors, she didn’t know, because when she’d asked him to explain himself, he’d pokered up and deflected her questions with nonanswers.
She crossed her arms, slumped in her seat, and stared at the moon. Leave it to a man to think that “I’m just saying he’s not the guy for you—end of story” constituted a crystal clear response. On the drive home he’d kept his silence to the point she found it daunting. Now, as he took the Bluelick exit, she worried he was mad at her for her outburst at dinner. Perhaps mad enough to cancel their lessons?
The thought had her straightening and chewing her lip. She glanced at his profile in the darkened interior of the car. He didn’t look perturbed. In fact, he looked a thousand miles away, completely lost in his own thoughts, which probably had nothing to do with her. Mustering her nerve, she said, “Tyler?”
He looked over at her, one brow lifted in the silent, inquiring gesture she found inexplicably appealing.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you during dinner. I guess I’m a little bit defensive about certain things, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Doc.” Apparently finding her hand cold, he moved it to his thigh and trapped it there beneath his palm. Heat seeped through his jeans, warming her fingers—and every erogenous zone in her body.
“Thanks,” she managed, shifting slightly in her seat while he cruised down Main Street. He shot her a knowing look and slid their hands a little higher on his leg.
She cleared her throat and pressed her luck. “So, are we on for Friday night?”
“Why wait that long? My place, Thursday night, around seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
He squeezed her hand and then, much to her disappointment, let go in order to maneuver the car into a curbside slot in front of her office. “In the meantime…” He killed the engine, reached down and released his seat belt, then hers, and pulled her into a slow, deep, take-no-prisoners kiss that made her head spin. She was trying to climb over the center console by the time they broke apart. He rested his forehead against hers and smiled down at her. “That’ll have to hold us over ’til Thursday.” Next thing she knew, he opened the driver’s-side door and stepped out.
She blinked at the now-empty seat opposite her and struggled to retrieve her scattered thoughts. What was she doing, making out in her car like some hormonal teenager, parked directly under a streetlight in the middle of town, where God and everyone could see? It was only half past eight on a beautiful early-summer evening. Plenty of people were still strolling about, enjoying the break in humidity, and if their eyes were sharp, catching Dr. Swann conducting a tonsil exam on Tyler Longfoot with nothing but her tongue. Obviously, she’d lost her mind.
Tyler opened her door and offered her a hand to help her out. She took his hand and stepped out onto the sidewalk on unsteady legs, which she attributed to his hot kiss and cool manners. He gave her the car keys.
“Want me to follow you home?”
“Um, no. That’s not necessary. I’m going to get a few things from my office before I head home.”
“Okay, then.” He leaned in close, until his mouth hovered mere inches above hers. Concerns about witnesses faded from her mind and she parted her lips in anticipation of another mind-altering kiss.
But it didn’t come. Instead he smiled his slow, sexy smile and danced his fingertips over her cheek. “See you Thursday. I’ll keep the accessories.”
She stood there, breathing heavy, while he ambled down the sidewalk toward his truck.
Accessories. Belatedly, she realized he’d taken the shopping bag with him. There went her plan to practice securing and unlocking the handcuffs before “date” night. Sighing, she turned and climbed the steps to her office.
The second she walked in the door she knew something was amiss. Light shone through the opaque privacy glass shuttering the front office from the waiting area. What the—? She distinctly remembered turning all the lights off before she left. They didn’t keep much cash in the office, but they had some expensive equipment.
Don’t jump to conclusions, she warned herself. A Bluelick crime spree typically involved baseball bats and mailboxes, not breaking and entering. Maybe the cleaning service had left a light on?
Almost as soon as that comforting thought crossed her mind, a muffled but distinctly female cry sounded from the back of the suite, followed by a low, authoritative voice issuing an indistinct command.
Good God, not only did she have an intruder, he was victimizing some helpless woman! She tunneled her trembling hands into her purse, found her phone, and dialed 9-1-1. The call immediately went to hold and she almost burst into tears. The woman cried out again, louder this time and even more desperate. Ellie knew she couldn’t just stand in the waiting room while the poor woman suffered. She had to do something.
The waiting room door stood ajar. She forced her leaden limbs into motion and pushed it open. The hinges squeaked. She held her breath, listening for any sign that the intruder had heard the noise, but she really couldn’t hear much above the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears. Finally, drawing a deep breath, she hugged the wall and inched toward the back of the suite.
Light shone from around the door of the small exam room at the end of the hall. She stopped in the front office area, placed her purse on the counter, and slid the envelope opener from its caddy. Phone in one hand and the makeshift weapon in the other, she crept toward the exam room.
The door wasn’t quite closed, and the woman’s frenzied “Oh, God please. Don’t! Stop!” carried all too well. Ellie rushed forward, but just as she prepared to burst through the door and surprise the assailant, the slap of a palm connecting with vulnerable flesh reverberated like a shotgun blast. The woman’s gasp followed, and then the maniac’s chillingly deep, controlled voice.
He sounded big. Powerful. Her best hope was to sneak in silently and pray to go unnoticed until she had the point of her letter opener pressed to the guy’s jugular.
Sweat dampened her palms. She tightened her grip on the letter opener, took another deep breath, and slowly…carefully…pushed the door open. Using it at as shield, she looked inside the room—and froze.
Melody, of all people, knelt on the exam table, completely naked. A rubber tourniquet banded her wrists. Her knees balanced on the very edge of the padded table and—oh my—Fire Chief Bradley sat on the stool
behind her, wearing nothing but his wristwatch and an impressive erection, his face buried between her thighs.
Melody hadn’t been pleading “Don’t!” and “Stop!” She’d been screaming, “Don’t stop!”
Paralyzed, Ellie nonetheless noted the inventive twist on chapter 3, combined with certain elements from chapter 6. While she watched, Melody squirmed and begged, and Chief Bradley delivered another playful slap to her round, pink backside. Then he stood, wrapped an arm around Melody’s waist, and guided them eagerly into chapter 10. The sound of their mutual, highly enthusiastic endorsement shocked Ellie out of her trance. She did a quick about-face and scurried back the way she’d come.
She’d stupidly assumed running into Roger at the Slap & Tickle would be the most embarrassing thing to happen to her tonight, but after she’d taken two steps toward a silent, undetected exit, a tinny, disembodied voice rang out clear as day. “This is 9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
Utter silence pulsed for a full ten seconds, followed by Melody’s “Oh, shit!” and some frenzied rustling.
Ellie kicked her retreat into high gear. “Sorry, false alarm,” she whispered into her phone and disconnected. She retrieved her purse and covered the distance to her car in record time—for a short-strided nonathlete wearing heels and a tight skirt. Still, not quite fast enough, unfortunately, because as she revved the engine and prepared to drive away, she saw lights come on in the waiting room and the slats of the lowered blinds part to give someone a view of the street. Busted. Melody would recognize her silver Mini.
Then again, maybe Melody and Chief Bradley were the busted ones? She peeled away from the curb, fighting a highly inappropriate urge to giggle. She lost. Her giggles turned to outright laughter, which only escalated as adrenaline retreated, leaving her limp and giddy with relief. Laughing helplessly at the absurdity of walking in on her office manager having wild, acrobatic sex with the new fire chief, she tried to guess which of them was the most mortified—Melody, Chief Bradley, or her. Hard to say.
Her giggles died in her throat when she considered the possibility Melody might quit, out of embarrassment or outrage. God knows she hadn’t meant to do it, but she’d basically spied on them having sex. Why, why, why couldn’t she have managed a silent, anonymous exit from the office? She’d spent the better part of twenty-eight years garnering minimal notice from her own father. Being invisible should be second nature to her.
It wasn’t until the pretty white pickets of her front porch filled her windshield that an even more disquieting thought occurred to her. Melody had seemed comfortable—make that blissfully happy—performing variations on chapters 3, 6, and 10. She certainly hadn’t appeared the least bit uptight or inhibited. Yet she and Roger had split because she’d declined to match his sexual adventurousness.
So what the hell chapter was Roger on?
…
“I guess we know each other’s deepest secrets now,” a low voice whispered over Ellie’s shoulder, snapping her out of her sleep-deprived fugue and into reality, which at the moment consisted of standing in Jiffy Java, awaiting her iced double espresso. Roger. A slight smile curved his sculpted lips, but the shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept any better than she had.
“Um…you mean our preference for shopping in Lexington?” After everything she’d witnessed yesterday evening, she vowed to assume nothing.
He nodded and leaned closer, until she could smell the mint of his toothpaste. “Yeah. Running into you in Lexington was completely unexpected. I’m sure you figured out I wasn’t there buying stuff for a party. We should probably get together and talk. In private. If you’re free tonight I could make dinner for us at my place?”
Holy smokes, Roger wanted to have dinner with her! Things were suddenly progressing. Too fast, a voice in her head protested. She wasn’t ready. Especially not after what she’d seen last night of Melody’s talents.
She couldn’t possibly spend an evening alone with Roger until she’d at least mastered chapters 3 and 6 and a wild card—ideally, chapter 13—assuming she could talk Tyler into it. Strangely, while the thought of attempting any or all the lessons with Tyler sent bone-melting heat all the way to her toes, the notion of trying any of the Wild Woman tactics on Roger caused her insides to twist painfully. Anxiety, she surmised. Tyler made sex fun and exciting. She didn’t have to pretend to be a talented, worldly woman. Roger, on the other hand, sought an inventive, experienced partner.
“I can’t tonight. How about…” Buy some time! “…later this weekend?”
He shook his head. “I leave early Friday for a weekend getaway. A friend and I are headed to Miami. How about dinner Monday after I get back?”
Perfect. Several days to work on her skills and her nerve. “Monday works. Since you’ll be fresh from vacation, I’ll make dinner at my place.” She hoped her smile didn’t look as stiff as it felt.
He smiled back, looking a little stiff, too. “In the meantime, I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t discuss…um…you know…what you saw in Lexington.”
“Of course not.” Spotting her drink on the counter, she reached out to retrieve it. “I won’t tell a soul I spotted Bluelick’s newest lawyer at Slap & Tickle if you won’t tell anyone you saw the town doctor there.”
He tapped his to-go cup against hers. “You got yourself a deal, Sparky. I’ll see you Monday.”
My plan is finally coming together, she thought as she crossed the town square on the way to her office. Neither the caffeine nor the smell of southern magnolias bordering the square accounted for her improved energy. A date with Roger charged her system better than aromatherapy or a double espresso. She was so preoccupied planning what she’d say to him when they were finally alone and able to speak freely, she completely forgot the other reason for her restless night.
Forgot, that is, until she walked through the front door of her office and nearly tripped over Melody, who was arranging the magazines on the waiting room end table closest to the door. The blonde immediately straightened and smoothed her hands down the skirt of her peach-printed sundress.
“Hi, Ellie. Sorry, I know I’m early.” She glanced around the waiting room, as if not sure where to let her gaze rest, then looked at Ellie, swallowed and continued. “I aimed to get here early in case you wanted to…you know”—she looked away again and smiled thinly—“fire me.”
“Oh, God no.” She clamped a hand on Melody’s arm. “I was afraid you were going to quit.”
Melody shook her head. “I love this job. I don’t want to lose it.” She closed her eyes and cringed. “I can’t believe I did something so crazy and unprofessional.”
“Um, wasn’t it you who walked in on Tyler and me kissing in exam room one a few weeks ago? I’d be kind of a hypocrite, calling you unprofessional.”
“This was worse. I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually, that’s not true. I was thinking it had been so damn long since a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly attentive guy literally wanted to tear my clothes off and have his merry way with me. And then I just completely stopped thinking.”
“Who could blame you?” Ellie quickly reassured her, all the while wondering why Roger didn’t qualify. Pushing the question aside, she added, “Not any healthy, red-blooded woman in the county between the ages of eighteen and eighty, because I hear there’s been a suspicious uptick in small kitchen fires since Chief Bradley landed in Bluelick.”
A smile pulled at the corners of Melody’s mouth before she turned and led the way through the waiting room and into the front office area, stopping at the counter where the day’s charts were already racked. “I really am sorry, and mortified, and I promise, nothing like last night will ever happen again.”
“Hey, for your sake, I hope it happens all the time, just not anyplace where a bonehead like me will bumble along.”
“Oh, you’re not a bonehead. I’m sure you were terrified, and then horrified.”
“Try surprised, and then relieved. Honestly, Melody, d
on’t give the incident another thought. I know you didn’t plan it.”
“I didn’t. I hadn’t even planned on seeing Josh last night, much less getting naked with the man. But I ran into him at Boone’s Market and it felt so good, talking with him, feeling that zing of attraction when he looked at me, realizing he felt the same chemistry. When he invited me to take a tour of the firehouse, I knew we were both looking for an excuse to spend more time together. But the firehouse is a busy place, full of other firefighters and what have you, so afterward, I offered to take him on a tour of my workplace. As soon as we were alone, things just sort of ignited. I really am sorry. Josh is, too.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She started to turn toward her office, then stopped and looked at Melody. “So…are you going to see Chief Bradley again?”
“You’ve seen him as naked as a newborn, Ellie. I think under the circumstances, you should call him Josh.”
“You’re evading the question, Miss Merritt.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “He asked me to dinner Friday night. I accepted before I could talk myself out of it.”
“Why would you want to talk yourself out of it?”
“Please. I’ve got ‘woman in transition’ written all over me, and I know it. I’m coming off a long-term relationship and a broken engagement. My head’s telling me stuff like, ‘Take things slow. Have fun. Don’t dive into anything serious.’”
“Sounds logical.”
“Yeah. Too bad my heart took one look at Josh and said, ‘Mine, mine, mine!’”
“It’s a little-known medical fact. The heart’s got a mind of its own. I guess yours is over Roger, then?”
The overhead lights bounced off Melody’s shimmering tresses as she nodded. “For a long time. We’d drifted into friendship well before we called our engagement off. It just took us a while to admit as much to each other.”
Ellie weighed her options. She was beginning to think of Melody as a friend, but what did the rules of friendship dictate in this situation? Should she give Melody a heads-up before dating her ex? Ellie’s conscience said yes.
Private Practice Page 11
