Billionaire Doctor, Ordinary Nurse

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Because I’ve tasted you, smelt you, felt you in ways only you and I know…’ He was rolling onto his back now, leaving her needy, twitching with the desire he so easily evoked. The sheet slipped down to reveal his morning glory and if she was tender, still she was wanting him, any soreness fading in the wake of her growing desire.

  She ran her fingers along his length and he shuddered at her touch, the palm of her hand catching his full arousal, stroking his velvet skin, her throat catching as he gasped.

  ‘Patsihonku.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I said to go more slowly.’

  ‘Why?’

  It was perhaps the most provocative of questions, but that was how he made her feel—daring, sexy. But as she slipped over him, her thighs astride his, suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Naked, exposed over him, it was easy to chide herself…easy to reproach the woman he had made her. But as his hands held her hips, as he steadied her as he nudged at her entrance, it was harder to resist the way he made her feel.

  Amazing, wanted, desired.

  And now…

  She could feel him swell inside her.

  The mahogany of his nipple grabbed her attention, a tiny taste, a little bite as his hips moved beneath her,

  She’d never been so bold but, then, she’d never been with anyone so beautiful.

  And he really was.

  Her eyes down, she was so ready to play—could see him sliding into her…

  She wanted to tease him.

  Wanted to lean forward, to jiggle her nipples over his mouth, knew what to do.

  ‘Annie…’ His mouth was grabbing at her breasts, his hips thrusting into her. ‘We need…’

  Her hands, his hands were both fumbling for the drawer, a futile task when he was so deep inside her. She didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want him to pull out, but he was. His hands pulled her bottom up—his delicious length reluctantly slipping out and pressing against damp curls. And then it was too late. The beats of her orgasm matched his as he spilled outside her, the heat of his semen, the sight of him overflowing as he pulsed beneath her, the groan of her name as he shot towards her.

  ‘Annie—why now?’

  Dark eyes begged a question that in the throes of orgasm Annie didn’t even think to answer—Iosef’s fingers massaging his silken gift into her pliant flesh. ‘Why do you have to do this to me now?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SUNLIGHT was cruel.

  In their haste they hadn’t even thought about the curtains and as the morning sun crept across the rumpled room, instead of brightening things, everything seemed to dim. The craziness of last night was not so straightforward in the cold light of day.

  ‘I have an appointment…’ Leaning over, he picked up his watch from the bedside table. ‘And I am on call tonight.’

  ‘Sure.’ She tried a wobbly smile, her hand inching across the bed to touch him, then moving back before it reached its destination, knowing somehow that the distance was suddenly too great. Instead she lay there, staring at the ceiling as he headed for the shower, listening to him curse as he shaved and wondering what the hell had suddenly gone wrong.

  ‘I think you’re the one who needs stitches today.’ She attempted a joke as he came out of the shower, a white towel around his hips and a red blob of tissue on his cheek.

  ‘Bloody hotel razors!’

  Then there was the horrible indignity of having to put back on her bridesmaid’s dress and shoes and bundle the rest of her things into a hotel laundry bag—but at least he waited till the car had been brought round before she had to suffer the shame of walking through a hotel reception area at eight a.m. on a Sunday morning dressed in last night’s clothes. She felt sick and tried to read his closed mind as she pulled on her seat belt and sat in silence as he pulled his car out onto the road.

  There was a line.

  And he’d crossed it.

  Comparing what had taken place with Annie with a very brief review of all the women he’d been with, Iosef knew beyond doubt that he’d crossed it last night.

  They hadn’t just had sex.

  Sex was about need—Sex was about want.

  Yes, they’d had sex last night—but they’d had lot more besides.

  As the traffic light turned green and he indicated to turn onto the freeway, Iosef attempted reason.

  Guovano.

  The expletive was there on his lips but he swallowed it down.

  Why on earth had he gone to the wedding? And if he had had to go, he should have danced with her first, been polite, got it over with.

  He glanced over at her.

  Saw that pinched face trying to be brave.

  Saw the unmistakable angry flush on her cheek as she pointedly stared out of the window.

  And he was hard again.

  Wanted to kiss away the doubts that were surely on her mind,

  Wanted to make love to her, tell her she was crazy to even think such things.

  More than that, he wanted to talk to her, to tell her all that was going on in his life.

  Wanted the permission to talk without the pillow.

  She’d never get it.

  ‘I told you I could not have a relationship.’

  ‘You did.’ She was fiddling with radio stations—changing from the talkback show he listened to to some blasted pop, but he could still see the glint of tears in her eyes.

  ‘It’s just not possible at the moment.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’

  His knuckles were white as they gripped the steering-wheel, tempted to indicate, to pull over into the hard lane of the freeway and do just that: explain how impossible things were at the moment. Tell her why he couldn’t be with her—only he couldn’t.

  ‘I’m no good for you.’

  ‘On the contrary, I think you’re very good for me.’

  Hell, why couldn’t she just get it? Why wasn’t she spiteful now, demanding even, why couldn’t she be like everyone else?

  She expected to be let down.

  He could see it as they pulled into the kerb, could see the jut of her jaw as she attempted casual.

  ‘See you at work.’

  ‘No doubt.’ He gave her a wry smile, watched as her shaking hands pushed a few times on the window buttons before locating the door lock.

  ‘Annie.’ He caught her wrist as she was about to get out. ‘I’d only make you miserable.’

  ‘You just have, anyway.’

  He should just let her walk away.

  Let her trip up her straight garden path wearing a bridesmaid’s dress and a few love bites, not entertain thoughts of letting her in on his twisted life; treat her coolly today so that by Monday she had got the message—only he couldn’t.

  Couldn’t actually bring himself to do it to her.

  ‘Annie…’ As she turned around and hopeful eyes shot to his, he wanted to tell her that in future she shouldn’t be so optimistic, that when some cad, some bastard called her name, she shouldn’t appear so open. That she was opening herself for hurt.

  ‘I do have an appointment today but if I can swing it with Marshall, perhaps we could have dinner tonight.’

  She shouldn’t be nodding. Iosef winced. She should be telling him she’d get back to him about dinner, or pulling out a bleeping mobile, not smiling and waving and wearing her heart on her sleeve as he drove off.

  Not being Annie.

  ‘Where did you say we’re going?’

  Sinking back into her seat, Annie looked out of the window as his sleek car silently gobbled up the miles, the city a golden glint in the rear-view mirror as the sun set over the bay.

  ‘I know a really nice restaurant—right on the water. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth it.’

  It was.

  Tucked away in a secluded cove, the restaurant sat on the end of a pier, the food so fresh Annie half expected to look out and see the chef casting his line. But it wasn’t the food or romantic surroundings that made the night speci
al—it was the company.

  Sharing a sumptuous seafood platter, washed down with icy glasses of tonic water with dashes of lime, they chatted easily.

  ‘The experience was good, I guess.’ Iosef shrugged when she asked about his work in Russia. ‘I learnt to think for myself—make the best use of the facilities available.’

  ‘Is that why you don’t like asking for help?’

  ‘I guess,’ he answered, then shook his head. ‘I know if I do it myself that it’s done…’ His voice trailed off and Annie smiled.

  ‘You’re a control freak.’

  ‘No!’ He actually smiled back at her rather bold statement.

  ‘You need to delegate.’ Annie dipped a massive tiger prawn in citrus mayonnaise. ‘Or you’ll burn out.’

  ‘If I was ever going to burn out, I think it would have happened in Russia. As busy as it can be here, the facilities are good and there is always back-up.’

  ‘Would you go back?’

  ‘Maybe. I miss the kids.’ He must have seen her frown, must have seen her eyes start just a touch. After all, involvement with children was one of the few things that wasn’t demanded from a trauma specialist.

  ‘The kids?’ Annie repeated, and he actually laughed.

  ‘There is no ex-Mrs Kolovsky. In Russia I volunteered on my days off at the detsky doms—children’s homes,’ he translated.

  ‘As a doctor?’

  ‘Absolutely—these children have a lot of physiological problems as well as psychological ones. There’s always a lot to be done. Still, it was the right time to come back.’

  ‘Because of your father?’ She watched his face stiffen, watched his hand pause for a fraction as he raised his glass to his lips, but he quickly righted himself, answering her with a dismissive shrug and a casual voice that Annie was sure was false. ‘I guess—there are a lot of changes happening at the moment. And Levander was getting married. My father wanted to discuss what would happen with the business. Probably Aleksi will take over.’

  ‘How come Levander isn’t?’ Annie pushed. ‘I thought he was the eldest.’

  ‘He doesn’t want it,’ Iosef answered tightly, ‘and I can’t say I blame him. Anyway, enough about my family…’

  ‘Please, no!’ Annie groaned. ‘You really don’t want to know about mine.’

  Actually, he hadn’t been about to ask, was just trying to drop the subject of his own family, but she had him curious now.

  ‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’

  ‘Two sisters,’ Annie groaned, ‘both perfect!’

  ‘Perfect?’

  ‘Perfect!’ Annie confirmed glumly. ‘Bianca’s a lawyer and Jennifer trained as a journalist and is now…’ she pulled a little face ‘…a senior political media advisor.’

  ‘Heavy title.’

  ‘Not a heavy woman, though,’ Annie sighed. ‘They’re both tiny, both gorgeous, both thoroughly together and focused and, unlike me, neither have given my parents a single moment of worry.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Iosef grinned. ‘They were too busy concentrating on their studies and careers.’

  ‘Nice try.’ Annie gave a resigned smile. ‘They’re also both extremely happily married, have perfectly tidy houses and occasionally pop out beautiful, contented babies with absolute ease and return to work six weeks later!’

  He laughed, actually threw his head back and laughed—it was the first time she’d seen or heard him laugh and it gave her a tiny thrill to know it was down to her.

  ‘You have a great career.’

  ‘Not according to my parents. They have a similar view of nurses as you seem to.’

  ‘My issues are with myself, not my colleagues,’ Iosef said. ‘They didn’t like the idea of you nursing?’

  ‘I come from a long line of high achievers.’ Annie gave a tight shrug. ‘They seem to think I could have done better.’

  ‘I know how you feel.’ He nodded as she blinked her doubt—positive that he didn’t know. ‘My parents were both horrified when I told them I wanted to study medicine.’

  ‘Really?’ Annie frowned.

  ‘Really,’ Iosef confirmed.

  ‘But why? Any parent would be delighted.’

  ‘Do you know what my mother said?’ He leant forward just a touch, and as she did so too she felt as if she were leaning into his world just a little bit, as if she was actually being let in. ‘Her exact words—in Russian, mind you—were, “Why would you want to be a doctor, Iosef? There’s no real money in medicine.”’

  ‘We’re both black sheep, I guess.’ Annie laughed—she’d never expected him to understand. Never expected that someone as dashing and successful as Iosef could even fathom where she was coming from, let alone have walked along a similar road. ‘Families are complicated,’ Annie added, and felt her heart thud in her chest as his expression was suddenly solemn.

  ‘My family has always been difficult—and never more so than now…’ Eyes that had been holding hers comfortably as they spoke were darting now. ‘Things really are incredibly complicated for me at the moment.’

  ‘Because of your father?’

  ‘Because of many things.’

  ‘Such as?’ Till then it had all been going so well, like coming in from the cold and warming your hands over the fire, just this lovely glow surrounding them. But she’d got too close. Almost immediately she realised she’d crossed some line, saw the tiny shake of his head, and though she braced herself for pain, when it came it was way more brutal than she’d expected. ‘I can’t see you, Annie. What I said last night about not being available for a relationship—I meant it.’

  She didn’t know how to take it. She’d thought tonight had gone so well, but suddenly she felt as if she’d failed whatever test he’d just put her through, as if he’d decided to give her a second go and still she wasn’t quite up to scratch. But unlike this morning she was not going to roll over and just accept it.

  ‘I think it’s a bit early to be using the word relationship.’

  ‘Dating, then?’ Iosef offered. ‘It’s really not possible right now. As I said, things are just so complicated for me at the moment—I don’t see that it could work.’

  Staring at him across the table, recalling last night—not just the love-making, the before, during and after, the laughter, the tenderness, the everything—Annie couldn’t pretend not to care.

  ‘Why are you here, then, Iosef? If a one-night stand was all you wanted, why did you ask me out to dinner tonight?’

  ‘Because…’ He closed his eyes, held the bridge of his nose in his fingers for a second as he attempted to come up with a suitable answer, only he couldn’t. And the only response Annie could come up with on his behalf wasn’t very flattering—wasn’t flattering at all.

  ‘Because you felt sorry for me? Thought that after such a good shag, the least you could do was buy me dinner?’

  ‘Don’t be crude.’ He shook his head at her description, yet he didn’t say or do anything to refute it.

  ‘I feel crude.’ Her eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and tears. ‘I feel stupid, too. I thought you asked me here because you wanted to see me again, not to tell me that you couldn’t. You could have done that when you dropped me off this morning.’

  She wasn’t making this easy.

  Iosef closed his eyes and dragged in air as he corrected himself.

  He wasn’t finding this easy, though with his track record he should—after all, he was more than used to tears and protests when a relationship inevitably ended, and rather too used to letting a woman down the morning after. Hell, he’d spelt out last night that he wasn’t available—had made himself very clear that a relationship now was out of the question.

  Out of the question.

  He reinforced those words as he paid the bill and they walked to the car.

  Said it over and over to himself as they bristled in silence on the horribly long drive home.

  Said it again as he dropped her off at her flat, trying to stare fixedl
y ahead as she stumbled up the drive, wishing she’d just find her keys and get the hell inside.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Tonight he’d told her things that he hadn’t even thought about let alone discussed with another person. She was so easy to talk to…

  Too easy to talk to!

  The last thing he needed right now was a dizzy, emotional woman like Annie…As she finally entered the house he gunned the engine and pulled out.

  She was far from discreet—she’d be blushing and dropping things and sulking if he tried to ignore her. The whole department could tell her mood from the second she either bounced or slumped in the door at the start of her shift—hell, he’d wager she’d had her period last week.

  As the lights conspired against him and he pulled up at the red light, Iosef tapped out a restless silent tune on his leather-covered steering-wheel.

  Annie Jameson was…He tried to think of a suitable word, one that he could use like a mantra to warn himself off—gullible, susceptible, dizzy…adorable!

  Performing a thoroughly illegal U-turn, Iosef muttered a curse at the car hooting at him but cursed himself more.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Even as he walked up her path, even as he rang her doorbell, the question raged loudly, but one look at her tear-stained face as the door opened, hearing the sob on her lips at the sight of him, silenced, at least for a little while, the doubts about the foolishness of his ways.

  ‘We have to keep things quiet.’ He was holding her in his arms, kissing away her tears. ‘No one at work must know—it would just make things incredibly awkward.’

  ‘I know.’ He could feel her head frantically nodding against his chest.

  ‘I can’t see you much at the moment—what with my father being so ill and everything, my time is taken up…’

  ‘I understand!’

  Trusting eyes looked up at him and he felt like the biggest swine in the world.

  He even opened his mouth to tell her the truth—but at the last second thought better of it and went instead for the infinitely more pleasurable option.