Dr. Daddy's Virgin - A Standalone Novel (A Single Dad Romance)

by Claire Adams

  "I'm sure he is, but why talk about him? Let's talk about you, and me, and fucking." I leered at her playfully, hoping to make her laugh, but she just looked at me with a serious frown.

  "Okay. Have you ever gotten fucked up on speed?"

  "What? Jesus Christ; what would make you ask a thing like that out of fucking nowhere?" She'd hit me where it hurts, and I lashed out in anger.

  "Is that a yes or a no?" she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  "Listen, I don't see where my past is anyone's business. I don't do speed now and that's all you need to concern yourself with. These questions are all bullshit. Are you here to interrogate me or fuck me?"

  "Neither. I'm here so we can spend some time together, talking and getting to know one another."

  "Bullshit. You'd never be asking me any of this shit if it hadn't been for that interview with Dorsey on television today; you'd be upstairs banging the shit out of me right now."

  "Actually, I've been curious about your past ever since a mutual acquaintance told me you used to have an addiction. They didn't say what you were addicted to, but seeing Charles Dorsey on the television and hearing him say that you were friends 20 years ago makes it easy to connect the dots. I never intended to interrogate you on the subject, but I hoped that we could have a civilized conversation as two adults and talk about it."

  "Oh, is that what adults do? They sit around grilling each other, asking if they were ever addicted to speed? I thought adults trusted each other."

  "I want to trust you. Just talk to me. Tell me what's really going on. Tell me the truth about your past."

  "No. Either you trust me, or you don't. Our pasts don't matter. The only thing that counts is what we have together right now," I said softly. I gazed into her eyes lovingly and gently placed my hand on her cheek, drawing her lips to mine for an intimate kiss. Once we embraced, I knew she would melt into my arms and I'd be able to carry her upstairs to my bedroom suite where we would spend the night fucking until we orgasmed again and again and again.

  Kayla opened her mouth to mine and sighed with pleasure, but her hands didn't curl around my neck like they usually did. Instead, she placed them on my chest and pushed me away, gently but firmly.

  With a stern voice and sad eyes, she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, Ethan, but I'm not just some dumb model who only wants to fuck. If you're going to be my boyfriend, that means lowering this brick wall you've put around yourself and letting me in.

  “I want to know the real you. All your worries, fears, faults, and secrets. All your joys, triumphs, hopes, and ambitions. If you had a drug problem, or a bad day at work, or are getting sued, I want to know. And I want to be able to share my day, too, in the exact same way.

  “I got offered a job today. A fantastic job, and you know what the first thing was I wanted to do when I left my agent’s office? I wanted to tell you. I want intimacy between us. Real intimacy, and until I get that, there will be no fucking. Goodbye, Ethan."

  I was dumbfounded. It was all too much to take in. I knew I should say something to defend myself, but my actions were indefensible. So, I just stood silently and watched as she turned and walked away.

  I poured myself a double whiskey form the bar and pounded it down. Shit. This really had been the worst day of my life. I no longer cared about the lawsuit or any of the other bullshit at work. Because of my own stupidity, I had just lost the one thing that mattered most to me. So much for not fucking things up.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kayla

  "Are you paying attention, darling? We need you to focus!" Jay Wendt shouted out angrily.

  "Sorry, my cell phone was ringing. I'll turn it off," I apologized. My purse was hanging on the back of my chair in the corner, blaring the ringtone I had set for Ethan. Irritated, I turned the device off completely.

  He'd been calling and texting me for the past two weeks, but I'd been ignoring every one, letting all the calls go straight to voicemail and refusing to respond to any of his texts. I didn't give a shit if he was sorry, or if he missed me, or if he thought I was sexy and longed to make love to me. I only wanted to hear one thing from him: that he was ready to open up to me with the truth.

  I didn't care if it was ugly or hard to hear; I needed to hear it. I needed real intimacy and trust between us if he wanted me to trust him in the bedroom. The BDSM games he'd taught me to play were the most incredibly gratifying things I'd ever experienced, and of course I yearned for more, but they were also based on trust, and if he wouldn't be honest with me about his life, then I had to close the door on that part of our relationship, as well.

  "Are you ready, darling?" Jay sighed loudly to make his annoyance clear. "I was told you were a real professional, or was that spread for Speed Magazine just because you were fucking the owner?"

  "No, I'm a professional. I can do this job. I just forgot to turn off my phone. Let's get to work." I stated with my head held high, exuding a confidence I didn't really feel. The trick worked and the director didn't give me any more flack.

  "All right — music on, wind, lights, let's do this."

  It didn't take me long to get into the zone, positioning myself on the bikes they brought out for me to advertise, smiling into camera's while the lights blinded me, letting my hair blow back in the breeze of the fans. By the time the photoshoot was over, I could tell the director was more that satisfied.

  "Great work. We got a lot of terrific shots I know we can work with. This one looks like our billboard shot."

  He showed me the photo of me posing on R.E.B.'s newest motorcycle design, leaning forward on the handlebars with my cleavage prominently displayed, looking sexy and happy. It reminded me of how I'd felt when I went riding with Ethan, and I had to look away.

  I knew this was a total betrayal of me to pose for his competitor without even warning him I was doing it, but what choice did I have? This was my career, and I had been planning to tell him all about it the night we ended up breaking up. I no loyalty to Ethan Colson; he'd hired me for a one-time gig and he wasn't my boyfriend anymore. He wasn't anything to me anymore, so why did I keep thinking of him?

  "Want to get a drink to celebrate? I know a place just down the street with the best live band." Jay was waiting for me when I came out of the dressing room, freshly washed and changed back into my regular clothes.

  "No, thanks. I'm too tired to go drinking. I just want to put on my pajamas, eat some cold pizza, and go to bed," I said, trying not to hurt his feelings.

  "I get it. Forget cold pizza, though. It's got to be hot with the cheese melting off the slice. That's the best. Have you ever eaten at Gino's? He makes his own Italian sausage, and it is heaven in your mouth."

  "It sounds delicious, but you forgot the most important of my plan: eating it in my pajamas."

  "I didn't forget. I've got a tee-shirt at my place you can sleep in if you want."

  His intentions were clear, but I'd already made the mistake of going to bed with a man I had worked for in photoshoot, and I wasn't about to do it again.

  "I'm sorry, but I really have to go home," I started to walk out the door, but he blocked my exit.

  "I'll drive you."

  "No, thanks."

  "I insist." He was blocking the door fully and there was no way I could get past him. My heart was pounding in my chest as I fumbled in purse for my pepper spray. Shit, I hadn't brought it.

  "I have a boyfriend," I lied, hoping he couldn't hear the fear in my voice as I struggled to keep my legs from trembling.

  "Yeah, I know. The last guy you shot photos for: Ethan Colson. I hear you two spent the whole weekend after the launch party holed up in the hotel. Come on, darling; give me a little a taste. The job I've given you is even bigger than that dumb magazine cover. It's the least you can do."

  He grabbed my arm, but I wrenched myself free and started fumbling in my purse. My hand closed over an object in my purse and I yanked it out, hoping it was something I could use for a weapon. M
y heart sank to discover is was only my cell phone.

  "I don't trade favors for jobs," I said, struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice as he closed in on me and put his hands on me, groping me.

  I knew I didn't have the strength to fight him off, and the only weapon I had was the cell phone in my hand. Then inspiration struck. I pressed last call button, connecting me to whoever had called me last and thrust the phone in his face so he could see I was on the line with someone. I didn't care who it was — it could be a bill collector or a kid selling cruise packages — I just needed Jay to think it was someone important.

  Jay put his face close to mine as his hand slid up my shirt, grabbing my left breast. With his foul breath in my face, he said, "We can do it the easy way at my place, or the hard way here. Either way, you're taking my dick. The choice is yours."

  "Actually, the choice is yours," I said, thrusting the palm of my hand upward in an effort to punch him in the nose, and then shoving my phone in front of his eyes so he could see I was on a call. "My boyfriend, Ethan, has been recording this entire conversation. He knows I'm here at the R.E.B. Corporate Studio on Ninth Street, and that I'm here alone with you."

  "So what? He ain't here to save you, and by the time he gets here, I'll be done."

  "No, but he's still recording every word, and you can't reach him before he gives it to the media. Do you want tomorrow’s headlines to be that you paid me double because the shoot went so well? Or should I have Ethan release this recording to the media, letting all the world know that Jay Wendt, director of marketing for R.E.B., was trying to pressure a model into giving him sexual favors and then threatening to rape her if she didn't cooperate? I get press exposure either way, so I'm good with whatever choice you make."

  "You fucking bitch," he reached for the phone, but I was light and quick and dodged him easily.

  Holding the phone up to my ear, I continued the bluff and said, "Go ahead, Ethan. Sell the recording to the news."

  "No, stop. I believe this was all just a misunderstanding. I was kidding before. It was a joke in poor taste, and I apologize. I'm tired, too. I'm just going home. I'll have a cab take you home. You can expect to find a bonus check waiting for you at my office first thing Monday morning."

  "That's very generous of you, but I don't want anything I haven't earned with hard work. Keep your bonus." I smiled. He held open the door for me, and I walked through it.

  To my surprise, Ethan pulled up in front of me just a few moments later on his bike.

  "Is everything alright?" he asked, looking hard at Jay.

  "Yeah, everything is fine," I said, locking gazes with Jay, who quickly cast his eyes to the ground.

  "The shoot went great; better than expected. I'll tell everyone you're a truly professional model," Jay mumbled. "Now excuse me, I have to go."

  He got in his car and drove away at top speeds, spitting gravel as he went.

  "Are you okay?" Ethan looked at me, and I nodded.

  "I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. I'll take a cab home."

  "Get on; I'll take you."

  "No thanks." I started to walk away from him, but Ethan spun around on the bike, cutting off my retreat.

  With pleading eyes, he said, "I've really missed you. Please, have dinner with me tonight. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

  "No more secrets?" My heart was leaping, but I put on an air of suspicion.

  "You can ask me anything and I'll tell you the whole truth," he vowed, pleading with his eyes. "The lawsuit, my time in college, the years I was addicted to speed, how I developed my company. Nothing is off limits."

  "Just dinner and talking; nothing more," I stipulated, even though my body was already aroused just being near him.

  "Only if you want more."

  I thought for a moment, enjoying the way my hesitation was making him squirm. Then, without saying a word, I smiled at him at climbed onto the back of his bike. It felt good to feel my arms wrapped around his strong chest with the wind blowing through my hair as we raced through the city streets. This was where I belonged. This was where I was meant to be.

  Best of all, it felt good knowing that with just one call he was there for me in an instant, willing to do anything I asked just to be mine. We were riding into a new and more meaningful future together, and in that moment, my life was perfect. Too bad perfection doesn't last.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ethan

  "You can't seriously be telling me this asshole has a real fucking case," I shouted angrily.

  "I'm saying Judge Farrell ruled that there are sufficient grounds to move forward; so yes, he has a real case."

  "This is complete bullshit. This junkie could potentially win half my fucking company that I've worked a lifetime to build, just because we were stoned together one night and he said ‘Speed Motorcycles’, and I eventually used that name for entirely different reasons."

  "I'm not the judge. I don't make the final ruling. I'm just your attorney, but if you don't want to risk the worst-case scenario, we could settle out of court. Why don't you just make him offer?"

  "Buy him off? That's no different than paying him the blackmail money tried to demand from me."

  "How much did he want?"

  "A million bucks, but I'm sure he won't take that now. He's got the media in a frenzy. It's going to take double that to shut him and get him to drop the case after all this."

  "I could call his attorney and offer two million in cash, see if he'll settle."

  "Yeah, that's really easy for you to do with my money."

  "I'll proceed however you want me to. If you want to take this thing all way to a jury, we will; but just know that's a gamble, no matter how ludicrous his claim is. I've seen crazier things happen. It's up to you, though.

  "No, you're right. Offer the two million. I'll go as high as five, but if he won't settle for that, then we're going all way to court."

  "You got it." My attorney shook my hand and left my office. No sooner was he through the door than Gary buzzed me on the intercom.

  "Mr. Colson, there's a man here to see you with no appointment. He claims to be an old college friend. Should I call security?"

  Shit. "Who is it?"

  Gary started to answer, but a new voice cut him off. "You tell that son-of-bitch it's the beer pong champion of the world, and don't you forget it."

  I recognized the voice of Victor Bruckheimer and broke into a grin. I opened the door to my office myself and greeted my long-time college friend with a hug.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" I slapped him hard on the back and welcomed him inside. I shut the door for privacy and invited him to make himself comfortable on the sofa by the window.

  "Well, I thought you'd probably like to know you still have at least one friend from the good ol' days who isn't trying to sue you."

  "Fuck, ain't that the truth," I groaned, glad for his support during this stressful time in my life. Sales were down, stocks were plummeting, and Kayla wasn't responding to any of my texts or phone calls. I'd tried calling her again that morning and she'd sent it straight to voicemail, not even bothering to hang up on me this time.

  "What do you say we go out tonight, get your mind off this shit-fest you're dealing with?"

  "That sounds perfect." I grinned — it really did. Vick always knew just how to cheer me up. Then he his next words hit me like a punch to the gut.

  "I'll bring Gwyneth and you can bring Kayla. It'll be a double-date, just like we used to do back in the day."

  My face must have turned pale because Vick took one look at me and instantly looked apologetic. "Unless you're still hung up on Gwyneth… I thought you two had worked out your differences and become friends, but if it would be too awkward for you to have your ex talking to your new girlfriend, I totally get that. I guess I should have asked if you had a problem with me dating her."

  "No, I'm not still hung up on Gwynn. Things were over between her and me long ago. I'm happy you two
are together, honestly."

  "All right, good. Meet us at Andresen's. Eight o'clock tonight. Last one there has to buy the first round. We'll talk and laugh and you can show off your dance moves to that hot, model girlfriend of yours."

  "You got it." I slapped Vick on the shoulder and we hugged like brothers.

  "All right, I gotta go," he said and I watched him leave. Shit. Why hadn't I told him that Kayla and I were no longer dating? How the hell was I supposed to get her to Andresen's by eight, when I couldn't even get her to pick up the phone?

  I texted her several times throughout the day, but there was never any response from her. She hated me, and I couldn't blame her. I'd asked her to expose her vulnerabilities to me when we played BDSM games and then refused to answer a single question she had about my past. Now, it was splashed all over the news and half the country knew I used to take speed. Why hadn't I just told her the truth instead of hiding behind my fears? If I had, then I wouldn't have lost her.

  I came to the bitter conclusion that I would just have to confess to Vick and Gwyneth that Kayla had dumped me. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but something I was going to have to do. I walked slowly out of my office at the end of the day, no longer looking forward to my dinner with friends. I decided to take my favorite motorcycle as a way to lift my spirits.

  As I revved the engine to life, I felt a strange vibration in the seat of my pants. It took me moment to realize it was my cell phone ringing in my back pocket.

  I saw at once that it was Kayla, and I nearly dropped the phone with surprise. My fat fingers could hardly press the answer button, they were shaking so hard, but I was surprised to hear the sound of a male voice as I brought the phone to my ear. He was threatening to rape her.

  Then Kayla's voice could be heard, fighting him off with her quick wit. She needed me. My heart was racing. Tell me where you are, I thought fiercely, and then as if in answer to my prayer, she said to her attacker "He knows I'm here at the R.E.B. Corporate Studio on Ninth Street..."

  That's all I needed to know. It was a short ride from my corporate headquarters and even shorter if I ignored all speed limits and took the back alley reserved for delivery trucks.