Instead of “good night” he said, “I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Four
Mitch was driving on Interstate 15 south and nearing the turnoff to the 215 Beltway before Sam said anything. The only reason she did was to give him transition directions.
“Take the Beltway east. Toward Henderson.”
“Okay. Which exit?” he asked.
“Green Valley Parkway.
She’d been a blubbering idiot; there was no recovery from that. Except that after speaking she felt the lack of conversation.
“Nice car.” It was a two-seater Mercedes. Red. Hot. A chick magnet.
He glanced over. “Thanks.”
She glanced over at him, all sexy in the driver’s seat. He’d taken off his black tie and released the first button on his pleated white shirt. Lights from the freeway danced over the angles of his handsome face and created enigmatic shadows as he aggressively guided the purring machine along the transition curve to the 215 and home.
She couldn’t believe she’d let her father get under her skin like that. He was the same thoughtless man she’d learned to compensate for a long time ago. He hadn’t changed, but she’d lost it, and that hadn’t happened for a very long time. The only variable was Mitch. Something about being criticized in front of him had pushed her over the edge.
Yet Mitch had come to her rescue. Sir Galahad in a hot, red car. She should probably make conversation, but her emotions were still unstable and held together by a thread. The best thing she could do was gut it out until she was alone. Finally, Mitch exited the freeway.
“Turn right. It’s the last apartment complex before Horizon Ridge.”
He did as she directed, then slowed to a stop at the gate. She gave him the number code and the gates swung open, allowing him inside. A few more directions later and he parked in front of her unit.
“I’m sorry about—” Tears welled in her eyes and emotion thickened in her throat. One humiliating incident tonight wasn’t enough? Another meltdown was pathetically close. She was two for two. It was time to give Sir Galahad the night off. “Thanks for the ride,” she whispered.
That was all she could manage without losing it. She slid from the car and shut the door, then hurried to the stairway leading up to her apartment. Grabbing her long skirt in one hand so as not to trip, she quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor. Behind her she heard a car door close and footsteps following. She stopped at Unit 27 and opened her purse, then moisture blurred her vision. But Mitch was there, big and strong and smelling so good, so masculine.
Without a word, he took her bag and easily located her key. After opening the door, he reached in and flipped the light switch on, then rested his warm palm on the small of her back, guiding her inside.
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “You’ve certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty tonight.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
No, the least would have been to let her take a cab. And she wished he had. “Thank you for everything. Good night—”
“Are you throwing me out, Ms. Ryan?”
“Yes. I’d really like to be alone.”
He set her purse on the sofa table in the entryway, then noticed the decanter of brandy and glasses. Without asking permission, he poured some of the liquor into two snifters and handed one to her.
“No, thanks, I—”
“Doctor’s orders,” he said, touching his glass to hers, before glancing around. “Nice place.”
Following his gaze she took in the beige-and-maroon chenille corner group, the circular oak table and four chairs in the dining area, distressed mahogany buffet with battered copper accessories on top. She’d painted the walls a harvest gold with one wall covered in a bold burnt orange. It was colorful, warm and inviting.
“My father h-hates it,” she said.
Mitch moved closer and the spark of anger in his eyes was clearly visible in the dim light. In spite of the simmering hostility, his touch was gentle when he crooked a finger beneath her glass and urged it to her lips for a sip.
“Your father is a first-class idiot.”
Maybe, but he was the idiot who’d raised her and she loved him for that. She owed him a lot. “Thanks for getting the valet to let my father know not to wait for me.”
His mouth pulled tight for a moment but all he said was, “You’re welcome.”
“And thanks for not giving me too hard a time when I insisted the valet tell him that I wasn’t feeling well.”
“As opposed to you’d rather walk barefoot on glass than get in the car with him?”
“Yes,” she said. “I know you don’t understand—”
“You’re right. I don’t get it. You’re bright and beautiful and witty. I don’t understand why you let him get away with treating you like a ditz.”
“He’s entitled to his opinion about what I do.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to be vicious.”
She took another sip of brandy and felt it warm her inside. The look Mitch was giving her heated her, too, in an entirely different way.
“How is what my father did tonight different from what you do when you have a strong conviction about someone or something? I’ve seen you in action and there was no holding back.”
“You’re not doing something that gets someone hurt,” he defended. “If people would just stop and think—”
“In your opinion. It’s the facts as you see them and when you unload that opinion, people’s feelings get hurt.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, then drained his glass and set it on the coffee table she’d painted in a deep, cocoa-brown. “Trust me, my behavior is nothing like your father. He’s an ass.”
“I can’t argue with that. And yet he’s on a mission to raise money for a cancer treatment center to honor the memory of the woman he loved. So he’s an ass with shades of gray.”
“There’s got to be something in it for him,” Mitch said.
“Tonight’s event was a lot of work. I hope he does get something out of it.”
“You were having a good time until he showed up.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He moved in front of her, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “If I remember right, you’d just said that I was a guy who saves lives. And that makes me a—”
“What?” she asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know. You didn’t get a chance to finish the thought.”
Hero was what she’d meant to say. And tonight he’d shown her he was one of the good guys outside of work, too. She finished the brandy in her glass and set it beside his. The warmth lingered inside her along with the sadness.
“That’s not all I didn’t finish.” Her eyes filled again as she remembered how happy she’d been when Mitch held her in his arms and guided her around the dance floor. He was looking puzzled, waiting for her to explain. And all she could say was, “We left our dessert—”
Her voice caught and she turned away. “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I’d really like to be by myself now.”
“Don’t, Sam—” He moved behind her, curving his fingers around her arms. “Don’t cry. He isn’t worth it.”
When he turned her toward him, a single tear slid down her cheek. He cupped her face in his hands and brushed the moisture away with his thumb as his gaze skipped over her face. Staring at her, he shook his head as he let out a sound that was part exasperation, part groan. Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
The touch was soft, tentative, testing until her sigh of surrender. Then the contact turned into an explosion of heat and need. His arms came around her, crushing her to him and she’d never felt safer or more secure. She’d never needed like she did now. No questions. No overthinking. She’d never lost control this way, not even with the man she’d almost married. This was simple, basic lust—easy to understand and explain. And best of all when she wanted him with every fiber of her being there was no room fo
r anything but the insatiable yearning.
He kissed her, then ran his tongue over her lips, coaxing them open. He didn’t hesitate to plunge inside, giving as much as he took. She held on to the lapels of his jacket for all she was worth, enjoying the primal strength of him hidden by the sophisticated clothing. He was like a big present just waiting to be opened and the anticipation built along with a delicious pressure deep inside.
They were both breathing hard when he pulled back and studied her face. “Sam—”
“I know.”
And she did. Sliding her hands over his chest, she pushed his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders, letting it drop on the carpet. He reached out and pulled the pins from her hair and she shook the strands free. Passion etched his face as he slid one finger beneath the strap of her gown and down her arm before tugging it over her breasts and hips until it pooled at her feet. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her strapless bra, allowing her breasts to spill free before his hands were there to cup and caress her.
Sam sucked in a delicious breath when he stroked an aroused nipple. Then he bent and took it into his mouth, the pleasure so intense she could hardly stand it.
She undid the buttons on his shirt with shaking fingers and he yanked it off before she rested her hands on his broad chest, the dusting of hair tickling her palms. He kissed her again and her lips parted, allowing him access. Taking full advantage, he dipped his tongue inside and stroked until liquid heat poured through her, leaving her thighs shaking and a pressure building deep inside.
She’d never needed like this before, never wanted the way she wanted Mitch.
She brushed her fingertips across his abdomen and over his waist, feeling his spasm of response as she traced the sensitive spot just above the waistband of his slacks. When she slid a finger beneath, he sucked in a breath. In a heartbeat he swept off the rest of her clothes and his, then lowered her to the carpet with her dress, his jacket and everything else around them. All she wanted was him inside her. All she could think about was relieving the pressure he’d built in the center of her being.
With his knee he parted her legs, then slid into her where she welcomed him with open arms and waiting warmth. He plunged deeper, drove her higher until her sudden and unexpectedly swift release exploded into a fireball that shattered into a thousand points of light. Before she was back in one piece he thrust once more, then stilled above her and groaned out his own satisfaction.
For several moments he simply held her tight, his body a solid sweet weight on her. Then he rested his forehead to hers and she felt more than saw his smile.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
The response was automatic, but she realized it was the truth. He’d wanted her. He’d told her she was bright and beautiful and the words were a balm to her battered soul. She was very all right and couldn’t regret what they’d just done. He kissed her nose, then took her lips in an achingly tender touch.
His slow, sexy grin was a wicked challenge. “Are you still sorry about missing dessert?”
She shook her head. “That was twice as good with none of the calories.”
“Good answer. As much as I hate to, it’s time to go. I have to be at the hospital before God.”
When he levered himself up and reached for his clothes, she grabbed the afghan from the arm of her sofa and wrapped it around her naked shoulders. After dressing, he looked down at her, all satisfied male. “Next time I’ll make sure there’s a bed.”
She blinked up at him. “Next time?”
“I’m a confident guy.”
“There can’t be a next time.”
“Why not?” He reached down a hand and pulled her to her feet, staring into her eyes for a long time. “I want to see you, Sam.”
The problem with losing control and rational thought was that when both returned, everything came back into focus in a rush. She couldn’t regret what they’d done, but…Why did there always have to be a but?
She shook her head. “That’s not smart.”
“I believe it would be one of the smartest things I’ve done in a very long time.”
“This was a huge mistake, Mitch,” she said, looking at her bra and panties still on the floor. “You’re a client of my firm.”
“But not your client. It’s not an ethical violation.”
“But it’s a gray area.” She bit her lip. “So very, very gray.”
“Then let’s just cut to black. I want to see you. Personally. On a date. You, me, dinner. Maybe a movie. A show. I hear there’s a new musical at the Venetian. I’ll get tickets. We could—”
“No. Let’s just chalk it up to—whatever—and move on.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
That would be a first. “Good.”
“It’s late. You’re tired.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her face in his hands as he dropped a tender kiss on her lips. He brushed his thumbs gently over her cheeks before saying, “We’ll talk about it another time. Good night, Sam. Lock the door after me.”
She did, then leaned against it with a sigh. The light caught the glitter of her gown in the middle of her living room floor, evidence of how bad this idea had been. While he was kissing her she’d had no room for regrets but now she was flooded with them. He made her forget everything except being in his arms.
She’d only wanted to be with him, so desperately she hadn’t given a single thought to making it into the bedroom. Not only was he a client of her firm, the intensity of the physical attraction simmering between them made her too vulnerable. Thank goodness he wasn’t her client because she didn’t have to see him again. That would be a very bad idea.
Whistling tunelessly, Mitch leaned an elbow on the counter at the nurse’s station in the E.R. It was a slow day and two women were working there. A redhead, Tina, was inputting computer information and the one kneeling on the floor, straightening out a cupboard, had brown hair. She was kind of new and he thought her name was Jill. He remembered giving her a hard time after car accident victims were brought in when the trauma bay wasn’t stocked the way he liked it and his orders weren’t followed fast enough. He had ridden her pretty hard more than once. She hadn’t looked up, but knew he was there because her shoulders were so rigid one touch would snap her in two.
He stopped whistling. “Jill?”
Her hands stilled and her body went tight. It wouldn’t surprise him to see her crawl into the cupboard, but she met his gaze. “Dr. Tenney—”
“Call me Mitch.” He smiled at her with all the charm he had.
Blue eyes widened as she rested her hands in her lap. “Okay. Is there something you needed, Doctor?”
“Yeah. I just want to say you did a good job this morning with that asthmatic kid.”
“I did?” she asked warily.
He nodded. “By the book. You got respiratory therapy down here stat and we had everything before anyone asked for it. I just wanted to say thanks.”
She looked as if he’d sucker punched her. “Y-you’re welcome.”
“Keep up the good work.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
He sighed and figured it would take a little more effort on his part before the deer-caught-in-headlights look disappeared. “Thanks for your efforts. You, too, Tina.”
“Okay,” they both said, exchanging a glance that clearly said “who is this alien creature?”
“Okay, then.” He turned away and started whistling again as he walked down the hall to the break room.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and picked up the newspaper on the table. Flipping through it, he stopped at the Nevada section, the page showing Las Vegas social events with photos of last night’s hospital function. Arnold Ryan was in three out of four with his smooth, suck-you-in, phony smile. Mitch wished Sam would tell him to go to hell. If the guy ever treated her that way again while he was around, Mitch planned to do it for her.
Sam.
He smiled as visions of her filled his head. Shining, shimmering Sam with her delicate curves and sweet smile. Oh, what a night. And he’d actually intended to make an appearance, have a drink, be sure he was seen and get the heck outta there. Then the crowd parted and he spotted Sam.
The break room door opened and Rhonda Levin walked in. She was a brown-eyed bleached blonde in her late thirties, plump, pretty and plainspoken. She didn’t take any of his crap and he respected her for that. The expression on her face made him wonder what he’d done.
“Dr. Mitch—”
He put the paper down and gave her his full attention. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.”
“How are you?” he asked.
“Just dandy. You?”
“Great. Never better.” He hadn’t felt this good for a long time.
Rhonda put her hands on her ample hips. “What’s going on, Mitch?”
“Not much. It’s slow today. That’s nice for a change. Gives the staff a chance to stand down and take a deep breath.”
“Speaking of the staff—”
He held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve been completely charming. If anyone is complaining about me they need to take a happy pill because I can’t be any better than this. What—”
“Since when do you say please and thank you?”
“Someone’s ticked because I was polite?”
Rhonda shook her head. “No. There was an unconfirmed report that you were whistling in the halls.”
He frowned. “There’s a rule against that?”
“No. But barking is your style. You never whistle and it’s scaring my nurses.”
“I didn’t do anything. I swear.” He grinned. “Trust me.”
One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Not the words to inspire confidence, Doc.”
“Seriously, all is well. I’m an easygoing guy.”
Expecting the Doctor's Baby Page 5
