Almost Elinor: A Jet City Novel

by Gina Robinson

  He grinned and eyed my boots skeptically. "Are you planning to make love in your boots?"

  "Not unless you refuse to finish your job." I sat on the edge of the bed and extended my leg to him. "More zippers. Can you handle them?"

  He laughed and relieved me of my boots as seductively as if he was removing silk stockings. In fact, he did remove my stockings, too. Thin, sheer trouser socks that made a nice double for silk.

  His hands went to my hips and the waist of my panties. "The last impediment."

  I arched up on my arms just enough so he could take them off me. Once again, he studied me as if I was some kind of priceless beauty. In awe. A little shy. Eager, that was flatteringly clear.

  I reached for the waistband of his boxers. "Fair's fair."

  And then I pulled them off and he was erect in front of me. Fine and large. And long.

  He glanced down self-consciously. I wondered what in the world he had to be concerned about there. Most men would envy him.

  "The carpet matches the drapes, as you can see," he said. "Are you shocked?"

  I hadn't, actually, been looking at the carpet. But now that he mentioned it, even in the dim, flickering light, it was red. Bright red, not the gorgeous auburn of his hair.

  I couldn't help myself. I laughed. "Fiery. I like fiery." I flashed the condom, unwrapped it, and slid it on him, doing a bit of fancy handwork in the process.

  "Devil," he said. "I can't take much more of that."

  I scooted back on the bed, took his hands, and pulled him on top of me.

  My sudden movement caught him off guard. He landed on me with an "oomph" by both of us, crushing me a little too thoroughly beneath his weight. Big men were awesome to look at, great to have around when strength was needed, but they had to proceed carefully when making love.

  "Sorry." He took some of his weight off onto his arms, looking down at me with an expression of adoration and wonder. As if he couldn't believe his good fortune in being naked with me.

  That look is hard to fake, and so completely thrilling. Nigel had lost it a long time ago, if, indeed, he'd ever had it.

  I cupped Austin's face with my hands as he gently bent and kissed me. Tenderly. Expertly, just like before. I was all too aware of his body against mine, of the hard planes and sculpted muscles. And my desperate desire for him.

  It was plainly evident he was ready to get on with things, restraining himself for my sake. My sake? I didn't want to wait. To my surprise, with very little petting or stroking, I was more than ready for him. My main concern was that I was too moist and wet for him. I guided him to the cleft between my legs.

  His first eager thrust took my breath away. I gasped and arched up to meet him.

  "Too rough?" he said in a gravelly voice.

  "No. Perfect. Don't stop!" I wrapped my legs around him and rested my heels in the hollows of his butt cheeks, reveling in their firmness and the way they flexed as he thrust.

  He thrust again. Harder. Deeper. Again and again.

  We were new to each other. Our rhythm wasn't perfect. He was not the expert lover that Nigel was. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and absolute joy and abandon. And we made up in pure chemistry and sexual sizzle.

  As the pleasure built and built, I both didn't want it to end and didn't think I could wait another instant for the release. When the climax came, it rocked me to the depths of my soul and rolled over and over me, as he grunted and got his release, too. It was heightened by the events of the evening, the long dry period, and Austin's attractiveness.

  I was…stunned by the intensity and perfection of it. My shock must have shown on my face.

  Austin's glowing grin turned to concern when he looked to me for confirmation of the power of the experience. "Something wrong?"

  I stroked his cheek. "Wrong? Are you crazy?" I sighed and took in a deep breath. "I'm completely, happily satisfied."

  He pulled out and pulled me against his chest. I was amazed at how well I fit there, my head nestled beneath his chin. He pulled the covers over us.

  It was usually the man's job to fall asleep after sex. There were physiological reasons for that, the biochemistry of the orgasm itself. Prolactin, and oxytocin, both surge during sex. Prolactin is associated with causing sleepiness. This time, though, it was me who couldn't keep my eyes open…

  Chapter 6

  Blair

  I woke up in Austin's arms. Late. But it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I wasn't even panicked that I'd have to rush to make my shift.

  Austin woke drowsily and smiled at me like a groom after the wedding night. I supposed my grin matched his. You know the look, as if you've done something special that no one else has ever done. I wasn't eager to shatter the illusion or leave his arms.

  He glanced at the clock and swore. "Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital soon?"

  I laughed and nodded.

  He sat up and swung his legs off the bed, allowing me a fine view of his sculpted back. I watched him stand and look around for his clothes, which were strewn on the floor. It was a shame I had to rush off. He was ready for action again and a little embarrassed about it. At least, I assumed so from the way he kept his back to me. As if I hadn't noticed such a fine erection.

  "You get ready," he said. "I'll get you breakfast. Is there anything in your fridge besides orange juice?"

  "Sour milk, maybe?" I sat up.

  "You're worse than a bachelor."

  "Don't bother with breakfast," I said. "I'll get something at the hospital later."

  He nodded. There was an awkward moment. That time when we each wondered what we should do. Should I invite him into my shower? If I did, I'd definitely be late.

  "Okay, then," he said, slipping into his clothes. "I'll duck out and leave you to get ready." He hesitated. "You'll be okay?"

  He was referring to last night, of course. I'd almost forgotten about it.

  I nodded. "I'm much better today." I found a robe, slipped it on, and saw him out, giving him a quick kiss before he left.

  He hesitated. "Call you later?"

  "I'll expect it," I said. "I'm off at six." With that, he was gone.

  * * *

  Austin

  The guys ambushed me at the entrance to my condo when I returned to my place, shoving their way in when I opened the door.

  "He's beaming," Jeremy said. "He did it. He definitely did it, boys. You can't fake that after-sex glow."

  Dylan shook his finger at me. "You broke the rules. Naughty boy. I'm going to tell Ashley." He laughed.

  The ribbing continued, getting more ribald when the door closed behind me.

  "So, is she able to walk this morning?" Cam said. "If she isn't, you didn't do your job."

  The guys laughed.

  "Shut up," I said. "This is none of your business."

  "I hope you're exclusive with her or Ashley will have your head." Jeremy nodded.

  "We've been 'exclusive' since we met," I said irritably.

  "But that wasn't real," Cam said, raising one eyebrow. "At least not on her part."

  "Things are real enough now." I couldn't hold my grin down.

  The guys laughed again and took turns slapping me on the back.

  "This calls for a celebration." Dylan headed for the fridge.

  Just then, I got a text from Connor Reid and paused to read it.

  "What's that? Is she texting you already?" Cam said. "Wants you to come back and warm her bed again?"

  I frowned, surprised, and shook my head. "It's Connor congratulating me on my heroics." I rolled my eyes. "I guess the news has reached Scotland. The PR team for Jamie is impressed with the buzz and positive PR. The news story and the picture of me carrying Blair out of the party has gone viral. The fan sites have gone crazy over it. The PR team and production staff thinks this, Blair and me and our story, us pretending to be Jamie and Elinor, would make a good promo for the show. They want us to come to Scotland and film some commercials and
promo pieces with Connor and Sam for the upcoming season."

  * * *

  Blair

  The hospital and clinic were full of gossip from the party last night. Bob, as benefactor, and the hospital's administration and PR team were spinning it to the hospital's advantage, saying misunderstandings like this wouldn't happen if we had more funds. For research. For expensive new treatments and equipment. They insisted that no one was being denied treatment. Nor ever would be. And everything that we could do for this guy's son would be done. The hospital and cancer clinic was not vindictive, but the height of compassion and care. A world-class facility.

  But we needed more money to carry on at full capacity and bring more cures and treatment to the public. Donations to our research projects and the clinic surged overnight to record levels. They couldn't have manufactured a better fundraising effort if they'd tried. Publically, they praised my actions and compassion and were proud of such a new member of staff.

  I was called into the chief of staff's office the moment I arrived and given instructions to keep my promise. Erica had already been interviewed about the incident and the patient. The hospital had decided she had acted in good faith and her diagnosis was accurate. They'd told her to cooperate with me.

  I would take lead on this, since I'd made myself the face of it in the danger of the moment. But I was warned not to make a move without their approval.

  "I have no intention of reneging." I was offended at the thought. "I'll do what I can. And you should know, I intend to go to the jail after my shift."

  First, I had to be briefed by our legal counsel. I agreed to that. But before I went, I wanted to get the truth of the matter.

  I insisted, and was given, full access to the patient's records, as well as full cooperation of the staff to assist me. I was also told to see the staff psychologist for an evaluation before I could see my patients. It was standard procedure, but angered me. Fortunately, the staff psychologist gave me at least a temporary pass to continue my work and scheduled a follow-up visit to evaluate any long-term effects.

  They wanted me to cancel my rounds and make the incident my top priority. I pushed back and made my rounds anyway.

  It was the right decision. My patients were relieved to see me seemingly unaffected by the trauma and acting normally. Laughing. Joking. They couldn't know Austin was responsible for my glow and recovery.

  My apparent ability to survive and thrive after the trauma heightened their respect for me and gave them confidence to put their trust in me. It was a happy, unexpected consequence. Doctors have to be rocks of confidence for their patients.

  The very air seemed to buzz about Austin's rescue of me. The romance of it. That picture of him carrying me out of the party was everywhere, it seemed. On phones and screens. Printed out. One of the nurses joked and asked me to sign her copy.

  Everyone wanted to hear the details. I told the story time and again until my voice was hoarse. Generally, I would have avoided thinking about it. But so many of my patients needed hope and something outside themselves to think about, so I humored them by retelling it and, in the process, found the horror of it fading.

  It wasn't until my break in the late afternoon that I was finally able to look over the patient charts and file of my captor's son.

  Erica caught me as I studied it in my office. She'd quite clearly been commanded to see me. She'd held herself aloof and distant all day. There was an edge of malicious jealousy in her toward me.

  I couldn't say that I blamed her, necessarily. I was thrust into the spotlight as a heroine while she was the hostess whose party had been ruined, the doctor whose compassion and diagnosis had been called into question. That it hadn't been my fault made no difference to the circumstances we found ourselves in.

  "You aren't seriously going to go to the justice center and visit that lunatic, are you?" She looked stunned. "He could have killed you."

  "He was desperate," I said.

  "Which made him all the more dangerous. Treating his son will bring you, and the hospital, nothing but grief. And quite possibly a lawsuit for malpractice. The kid is my patient. I've been dealing with his father since the beginning. He's a drunk. A hothead. Dense. Unintelligent. Threatening and volatile.

  "I tried to warn the hospital bigwigs about proceeding as they are. And Bob. But they're blinded by the money that's pouring in." She made disgusted noise. "Bob will sacrifice anything. Even his wife's reputation."

  I didn't dispute her.

  She paused. "You know the perp's kind. He can't accept reality. He'll pin the blame for his son's illness on whomever he can and try to make money out of it. This is a case of no good deed going unpunished, Blair."

  She stared steadily at me. "So? Do you think I made a mistake in stating his case? Did my app fail me?" She was daring me to call into question her professional opinion and reputation.

  I leaned back in my chair and proceeded with caution. "Not at all. My assessment matches yours. I'm just wondering if he misunderstood when you told him we'd have to wait for the cancer to flare up again before we could put him in the clinical trial? Because as far as I can tell, you didn't tell him there was no more treatment. You told him you couldn't recommend any more of the chemotherapy drugs that we have in our arsenal. Is that correct? Do you remember your words?"

  She sat in the guest chair opposite my desk. "It's possible he misunderstood," she said grudgingly. "Distraught people don't always hear what we're telling them. They want to believe we're gods capable of miracles." She looked as frustrated as she sounded. "And then they want to punish us when we can't."

  I didn't agree. I still had enough compassion to realize we were dealing with people, not robots without feelings. But Erica had a bit of superiority complex.

  "I told him that I wasn't enthused about proceeding with radiation. That we'd have to wait several years, and then maybe. That the risks right now were too great." She got into more technical details while I took notes and asked a few questions.

  "Thank you," I said when things wound down. "I promised him I'd look into his son's case. And I have. I completely agree with your diagnosis and course of action. I never doubted you or your skill. But I owe it to him to explain it to him and make sure he understands. I think that's where the disconnect lies."

  Erica studied me. Finally, she shrugged. "Proceed at your own peril."

  "I would do it regardless," I said. "But I don't have much of a choice. I've been commanded to see him."

  She stared at me. "Well, watch yourself. You've opened a can of worms now. Bob's mother was born in Scotland. He's a member of the Gaelic community and always sponsors their annual gathering and games. He is, at this very moment, convincing the board that he needs you there this year as a representative of the cancer center. He's emphasizing that the Scottish community has deep pockets." She took a deep breath. "He can be very persuasive. I think he already twisted Austin's arm. Don't say I didn't warn you."

  After I got off shift and had a brief consultation with our lawyer, I went to the justice center where my attacker was being held. They were expecting me. I explained who I was, and was allowed to talk to him across the table in a visitation room with a guard standing by.

  He seemed surprised to see me. "I didn't think you'd keep your promise."

  "I'm here, aren't I?" I said. "We both want the same thing for your son—a cure, if possible. Remission. The best quality of life we can give him for the longest amount of time."

  He nodded. "She told me she didn't feel like doing the radiation treatment. That she didn't like it. And that was that. She dismissed us. That was our last hope." He talked a bit more, giving me a more details. His story matched Erica's, for the most part.

  "I think you may have misunderstood my colleague. She was completely right to tell you that she couldn't perform any more radiation. We've done the max we can do without endangering his life and the progress we've made." I proceeded to tell him what I had discussed with Erica. Including the reason
s we couldn't do more radiation treatment.

  "There's still hope?" He looked astounded. "Another treatment we can try?"

  I nodded. He made a sudden move toward me. I jumped back out of reflex. This time I had my tactical pen on me. I reached for it as the guard made a move to protect me.

  "Sorry! Sorry." The guy put his hands up. There were tears in his eyes. "I mean no harm. I won't hurt you."

  I turned to the guard and held a hand up. "It's all right. We're okay."

  "I just wanted to take your hand and thank you." He wiped a tear from his eyes. "There's hope. I can't believe it. Hope." He blinked and looked at me. "None of that was necessary last night. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He broke down.

  Chapter 7

  Blair

  There was freedom and joy in having a boyfriend close at hand. I'd spent my entire adult years so far in a frustrating long-distance relationship. I'd forgotten how much less complicated and more fulfilling having a boyfriend around was. And I mean fulfilling in every sense of the word.

  Were we screwing like rabbits? Yes. Every chance we got. I felt like I was back in college. The drive to be with him was impossibly strong and irresistible. Maybe we had both been starved for affection. Maybe our sexual chemistry was epic and a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I only knew I wanted him every minute of every day. The newness, the freshness never wore off.

  It showed on our faces, in our body language, in every appearance we made over the next few weeks. Including Sunshine Sheri's show. Hers was the first interview we did after the attack. This time we spoke freely about our feelings for each other and how happy we were to be dating. Everything was out in the open and genuine. No more faking. No more denying what we were feeling. No more winter of the heart for me.

  We went on the date we'd promised Sheri, with a full show crew in attendance. But Austin insisted on having a hand in the planning. We made a day of it and did all the touristy Seattle things the show wanted. Ate at the restaurants that were major sponsors and advertisers on Sheri's show in a kind of progressive dinner, cooing with delight over everything we were served. We were learning, and getting good, at playing the PR game. But we were so happy together that it didn't matter now. It was fun.