The V-Spot

by Wendy S. Marcus

  “Not better for his mood,” Samson said, oblivious to Emma’s sudden discomfort as he stepped up to wash his tremendous hands.

  Billy walked out of the bathroom dressed in his tough-guy badass costume and strutted his large, muscled body toward the sink. “You see that picture circulating around? Him and some heifer at a kinky sex motel.”

  A most unflattering shot, if she did say so herself. But an excellent diet and exercise motivator. Of course dieting was easy when you didn’t have much of an appetite. Regardless, she’d lost eleven pounds.

  “Shut it,” Fierce Flynn snapped.

  Emma wondered if he’d recognized her or if Brody had told him.

  As usual, Billy argued. “All I’m saying is—”

  Fierce Flynn flew at Billy, grabbing him by the neck and pinning him to the wall. “I. Said. Shut. It.”

  “That’s enough,” Emma scolded. “Need I remind you this is a hospital not a wrestling ring? Flynn. Over here. Now.” She pointed to the chair.

  Luckily he complied, releasing Billy who clutched at his throat dramatically and croaked out, “Damn it, man. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Flynn didn’t acknowledge him as he walked to the chair, sat down and opened his mouth. Emma slid the thermometer probe under his tongue, thinking of something nice to say, something that would show her appreciation for him standing up for her while not acknowledging he was correct in his assumption that the blonde in the picture was her. She decided on saying, “A perfect A-plus on the hand washing today, Flynn, as usual.”

  He smiled, looked over his shoulder and said, “Beat that you losers,” around the thermometer sticking out of his mouth.

  While waiting for his temperature to register, she listened to his lungs through her stethoscope. Clear. Putting it back around her neck she asked the group, “Since Brody’s not here, is one of you guys willing to visit our isolation kids?”

  The thermometer beeped freeing Flynn up to talk. “Those kids contagious?”

  While Emma watched Billy get started at the sink she answered, “The four we have need to be protected from your germs, not the other way around. A nurse will be with you the entire time and will show you what to do.”

  “If that nurse is Sadie I’m in,” Samson said as he came out of the restroom, finished changing from his street clothes into a freshly laundered wrestling outfit that included a long, sleeveless, hooded black cloak suitable for someone called The Slayer.

  “Sadie has two of the rooms,” Emma said. “I believe Tamara has the others.”

  “Even better.” He slid off his hood. “I’ll do all four,” Samson said with a big, eager smile that belied the dangerous, menacing look of him.

  Emma would have to commend their head nurse on scheduling the two prettiest nurses on the floor to work the isolation rooms today.

  Just as Samson sat down to have his temperature taken and Rusty started to wash his hands the door to the education room slammed open and in walked Brody carrying a huge batch of chocolate-covered strawberries stuck on wooden skewers made to look like a flower arrangement covered in cellophane. Locating her in the room, he walked over and handed it to her.

  In a room with five burly, boisterous wrestlers and you could have heard an ant hiccup—if ants hiccupped, that is. “You brought me chocolate-covered strawberries?” They looked delicious. He looked delicious. Her mouth watered.

  “I’ve been away and just got back into town last night. Who knew they had to be special ordered from the bakery? But I found some.”

  “Why?” Why go to all that trouble for her?

  He set a black leather bag that likely held his wrestling outfit on a chair. “To say, even though I’m mad as hell you ran out on me, I’m sorry I upset you by not explaining myself clearly. I’m sorry our picture made the tabloids. And I’m sorry people are such idiots and say such mean things.”

  Yeah. She’d pretty much been bashed all over social media. It bothered Sadie more than it bothered Emma.

  With a small smile he added, “And because they put you in a good mood so I wanted them handy for after I do this.” He took the arrangement from her and handed it to Samson, saying gruffly, “Get one of those strawberries free in case I need it quick.”

  Then he took Emma into his arms and kissed her like a lover who’d been locked away on a submarine with all men for months would kiss his special someone upon his return to dry land. Right there in front of his wrestling buddies. “God, I missed you.”

  She’d missed him, too, but did he not realize? “You just kissed me in front of your friends.” And no way he’d have done that if he was embarrassed to be seen with her. Emma’s heart beat out a rapid, ecstatic rhythm.

  “I know.” He kissed her again.

  Into the shocked silence that followed Flynn said, “You didn’t wash them long enough, you goober. And you need to use more soap. Start over again.” He leaned toward Emma and said, “I got this, Emma. Keep doing what you’re doing. God willing, it’ll cheer up that pain in the ass.”

  Emma smiled against Brody’s lips.

  “Shit,” Billy said. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t know.”

  Brody stiffened then slowly, oh so slowly, lifted his head to find Billy in the room. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice deep and threatening.

  Billy held up both hands in surrender.

  Emma came to his rescue. “A simple misunderstanding,” she said, twisting out of Brody’s hold. “It was nothing.” She straightened out her scrubs, determined to get back down to business. “We’re running late. The kids are waiting. Let’s get moving.”

  She held up the thermometer and Samson opened his mouth.

  In the next few minutes everyone did what they had to do, familiar with the routine. The only thing out of the ordinary was that they did it in absolute silence, which was fine with Emma.

  Eventually Flynn, Billy, Samson and Rusty headed out to the mats set up in the big play area/lounge, leaving Emma alone with Brody.

  He walked over, took her hands into his and stared into her eyes. “Why didn’t you return my calls?”

  Maybe she would have if he hadn’t given up so easily. “Why did you stop calling after a week?”

  “Sadie got on the phone and told me to give you some space, to give you time to calm down and think things through. She suggested I wait to talk to you in person so here I am.”

  Her best friend knew her so well which explained why she’d obviously lied about her difficulty accessing the Port-a-Cath to finagle a face-to-face between Emma and Brody. Their next girls’ night out would be Emma’s treat.

  Because Sadie had been correct. During her Brody hiatus Emma had started to wonder if maybe she’d misjudged him, again. Maybe the problem had been hers, not his. Maybe she didn’t feel good enough for him. Maybe she’d let her insecurities about her weight get the better of her. And in the process, she’d pushed away a great guy who didn’t deserve the way she’d treated him. “I should have stayed and talked things out like a calm, rational adult. It was crappy of me to tell you off in a note. I’m sorry.”

  “You are not my shameful secret,” Brody answered, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. “I swear. It’s just...I really did want to have you to myself for a little while before I have to share you. Dating in the public eye is not easy.”

  Emma wasn’t naive. She didn’t think it would be.

  “You’ll see reports I’ve been seen out with other women. Old pictures will resurface.”

  She hadn’t considered that.

  Brody plopped down into one of the small chairs, set his elbows on his knees and looked down at the ground. “As much as sometimes I wish I could give up wrestling so the media would leave me alone and I could live a normal, quiet life, my popularity and the money I make give me the opportunity to do
a lot of good.” He looked up at her. “That’s hard to walk away from.”

  Emma sat down beside him and set her hand on his thigh. “I’d never ask you to.”

  “So where does that leave us?” he asked. Before she could answer he added, “Would you be willing to meet with some of the guys’ wives? A group of them are pretty tight and protective of each other. I’m sure if I asked them to they’d share their experiences and how they handled dating with all the media attention and the women intent on ruining their relationships.” He looked over at her. “They will, you know, try to break us up. You need to be prepared for that. You need to trust that what you read on the internet and in magazines isn’t always true.”

  “I know,” Emma said, appreciating his protectiveness and concern. “And I’d like to meet your friends’ wives.” Emma loved the thought he’d put into easing her into the role of The Bull’s girlfriend. If she hadn’t thought the worst or had, at the very least, given him a chance to explain himself better they could have been dating for a whole month already. Instead she’d spent twenty-nine days alone and miserable.

  He sat up straighter. “So we’re good?” he asked, looking adorably hopeful.

  She nodded. “We’re good.”

  With a big smile he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Brody,” she protested, her attempts to escape him futile.

  He nuzzled against her ear exactly as she liked it and she gave up the fight. “We’re dating then,” he confirmed. “Exclusively.”

  She nodded, not quite able to speak because his magical lips and tongue had everything above her shoulders tingling.

  “Please let me come over tonight,” he said against her skin.

  She nodded again, already looking forward to it.

  He lifted his head. “We could do dinner out first, if you want.” He studied her as if to gauge her reaction to the idea.

  While she appreciated his willingness to take her out, Emma thought about it and realized as much as he didn’t want to share her with the world, she didn’t want to share him either. “How about I pick up some takeout on my way home and you come over at eight?”

  He squeezed her tight. It felt so good to be back in his arms. So right.

  “That sounds perfect.” He kissed her cheek. “What should I bring?”

  Emma looked up into her handsome wrestler’s beautiful brown eyes. “How about a toothbrush and a change of clothes.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “And a big box of condoms.” First thing Monday morning she’d get in touch with her ob-gyn for a prescription for birth control.

  He pulled her into a big bear hug. “Anything you want.”

  “I want you.”

  “That’s easy.” He squeezed her tight. “You’ve got me.”

  “I want you to create an exercise program for me at the gym.”

  He leaned back and looked down at her, his expression so serious. “Emma, you don’t have to—”

  She put her hand on his chest to stop him from talking. “I know. But I need to get healthy. And when we’re photographed together I want to be proud of the woman standing by your side. I’ll never be skinny, but I want to be the best me I can be.”

  “Okay, only if you’re doing it for you.”

  “I am,” she assured him.

  He leaned in close to her ear and lowered his voice. “You know you can always count on me to help you burn calories.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “You opportunist.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  He nuzzled her ear and Emma almost lost her train of thought. “One more thing.”

  “Name it.”

  “If we’re still together a year from now, I want to be in charge of planning our anniversary celebration.”

  “Oh you do, do you?” No doubt in her mind he made his breath all hot on purpose. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “It’s a secret.” But maybe, just maybe, if she could work out a couple of unrecognizable disguises, she’d take them back to The V-Spot...for a night in one of the exhibitionist rooms.

  * * * * *

  About the Author

  Wendy S. Marcus is an award-winning author of contemporary romance. A nurse by trade, Wendy holds a master’s of science in health care administration, a degree that does her absolutely no good as she now spends her days, nights and weekends mucking around in her characters’ lives, creating conflict, emotion and, of course, a happily ever after. Wendy lives in the beautiful Hudson Valley region of New York. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, which includes her dog Buddy, and blogging/emailing/Tweeting/hanging out on Facebook with her online friends. To learn more about Wendy and her books visit her website: www.wendysmarcus.com.

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  ISBN-13: 9781460339596

  The V-Spot

  Copyright © 2014 by Wendy S. Marcus

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