“Well done,” Ian said absently. “You’ve only been here a few months. Wonder what changed their mind.”
“I have no—” Abruptly, she stopped.
What changed anyone’s mind? Usually it came down to one of a very few things.
Top of that list: money.
Just then, her pager rang. Three cars had collided in the middle of town and six victims were on their way to the emergency room. She was needed.
The rest of the day was so busy that she didn’t have a chance to think about the call from Mount Sinai until the end of her shift.
Time to confirm her suspicions.
She called her father on her way to her car.
“Hi Daddy.”
“Tinkle. How’s Alaska?”
Clenching her teeth—how many times did she have to tell him that she hated that nickname?—she said, “Fine. How’s Connecticut?”
“Busy. Lots of meetings.”
She wondered if her suspicions were off base. If he was so busy, how had he found time to try to control her life?
But then he continued. “A hell of a lot warmer than Alaska, though. How are my girls doing?”
A-ha! That was his jovial laugh, the one he used when he knew he’d crossed a line.
“I got a job offer today from Mount Sinai Hospital.”
“Hmm. Prestigious organization. Sounds like a good move. What are you going to do?” His innocent tone was just as good as a confession.
“Daddy! What did you do?”
“Now, Tinkle—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine. Bethany. All I did was play a little golf. Actual golf, not…whatever it is they play up there. I mentioned you to someone on the board at Mount Sinai. It could launch you into another area of medicine, something more prestigious. You could—”
“Daddy, stop right there.” Her hand shook as she clicked her key fob. “I’m not in this for prestige.”
“It’ll pay more. You can use a bump, and so could Gretel.”
Bethany slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. “Don’t bring Gretel into this. She’s fine. She’s been earning money helping out a patient of mine.”
“Okay, look.” Finally, her father dropped the nice act. “Aimee is worried about her and I’m sick of hearing about it. We’re divorced, for Chrissake. I want Gretel to go home—home to her mother, not me—and do whatever Aimee wants. Date someone with a future, for a start. I want the same for you. You should come back east. You’re my daughter, and you need to start living up to that. All I’m doing is smoothing the way. As I always have.”
So much fury was coursing through Bethany’s body that she couldn’t see the ignition. She sat back, oblivious to the cold in her unheated car.
“So let me get this straight. You want me and Gretel to leave Alaska so we can reflect better on the Morrison name and so Aimee will stop bugging you. Is that about right?”
“Don’t get touchy, Tinkle. You already applied for a job at Mount Sinai. You should be thanking me right now.”
This time, Nate wasn’t around to have her back or make her laugh. Gretel wasn’t here to distract with her charm. It was all on her.
“You know, I think I’m good, Daddy. I’ve thanked you plenty over the years. I’ve also apologized and held my tongue and done everything I could to win your praise. But I can see now that it was all pointless. You don’t care if we’re happy. It’s all about you. You’re just plain selfish, and you’re rich enough to get away with it.”
In the cold, her breath came out in puffs like a dragon’s. She paused, hearing nothing but stunned silence on the other end of the line. Might as well go all the way.
“I’m going to date who I want and live where I want and be the kind of doctor I want to be.”
“Even if you get fired?”
“Even if I get fired!” The truth of it coursed through her. “Because at least it’d be on my own terms. I’m not coming back east. And don’t ever, ever call me Tinkle again.”
Chapter Thirty
Had Nate used the word “moonlight” to describe Bethany? Scratch that. Someone had turned on the lights and now the right word was more like “bonfire.” She reminded him of a fully engulfed structure fire as she slammed her car door and strode up his front path.
She even kicked aside a chunk of icy snow unfortunate enough to get in her way.
“Howdy,” he drawled as she charged past him. “Pleasant evening, isn’t it?”
She reached back and yanked him inside his own front door. For a crazy moment, he wondered if he’d done something to piss her off—something even worse than dragging her into the S.G. mess.
“What’s going on, sweet-pea? You look a little riled up.”
“Why are you all of a sudden talking like a cowboy?” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, still wearing her parka and a chunky red scarf.
“I do that when I get nervous.” He accentuated the drawl. “I think they call that there a defense mechanism.”
“Why are you nervous? Because I’m not smiling and being nice and dutiful and well-behaved?”
What the hell was going on with her? “Honey, during our first date, you basically ripped me a new one.”
Damn it, why couldn’t he stop it with this damn drawl?
“And I sure hope you weren’t just being dutiful that night in the hotel. Or any of the nights afterwards. I definitely wouldn’t call it well-behaved.”
“Right!” She jabbed him in the chest with her mittened hand. “But notice how all your examples are about sex? Being with you is the one thing I’ve done in my entire life that’s totally, completely out of bounds.”
“I’m out of bounds?” He wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment, frankly.
But she was already off on the rest of her rant. “What kind of man tries to bribe and manipulate his own children even when they’re fully grown adults? Okay, Gretel might not be fully grown, but she’s getting there.”
Ahh, so this was about Mr. Lloyd Morrison.
“What did your—”
But there was no stopping her. “What kind of man only cares about his children if they do what he wants and don’t make trouble? And what kind of man uses his money to control them? Doesn’t he know all we really want is for him to say one nice thing once in a while?” She made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “If only he knew it was so easy and cost-efficient. I’m surprised a consultant hasn’t clued him in.”
He came up close to her. “Go on, keep going. I’m just going to take your scarf off so you don’t strangle yourself with rage.” Gently, he unwound the red wool from around her neck. “What did he say?”
“I don’t even want to talk about it.”
Could have fooled him.
In the next breath, she launched right back into her rant. “He’s so selfish, and I can’t believe I never saw it before. I always thought it was me, that I was just inadequate in every way, and if I just tried harder. But it was a rigged game from the start. What kind of nickname is Tinkle, anyway? They never even told me where it came from!”
Her face was still flushed with heat and fury. He unzipped her parka and eased it away from her body. He hung up her coat and scarf, then took her hand and led her into the living room, where he already had a fire going in the hearth.
“Go on. You’re on a roll, don’t stop now.”
“Is this funny to you?”
Maybe a little. “Absolutely not.”
Seeing Bethany, usually so buttoned up, letting it all hang out—yeah, it was a little funny. But he wouldn’t tell her that.
She stood in the living room, hair sparking with static from her scarf. She wore a cashmere aqua sweater and a perfectly clean pair of blue jeans. Always neat and tidy, that was Bethany. But her chaotic energy told a different story.
“I’m just a sucker,” she fumed. “A sucker for affection. My whole life. I feel so stupid!”
“H
ey, hey.” He tried to tug her toward the couch, but she braced her feet and wouldn’t budge. “Give yourself some credit. You chose to become a doctor. That wasn’t what your father wanted.”
“Because I thought it would make him respect me.”
“And because you like it,” he reminded her. “You told me that.”
“Yes, I love it. But it’s still not enough for him. That’s my whole point. Nothing will be enough for him. Nothing and no one will be good enough unless it’s something he chooses.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to say to that. Mr. Morrison was a difficult man, no doubt about that. He made Nate’s parents seem like a couple of cupcakes.
Her angry gaze swung toward him. “No words of wisdom? No lighthearted quip about living for the moment and not worrying about what other people think?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “No. He’s your father. Of course you care what he thinks.”
For a moment, she simply stared at him, almost as if she were looking through him to something else.
Then she marched up to him and put her hands on his chest.
“Hello,” he said. “What’s—”
“On the couch. Now.” She pushed, walking him backwards until he reached the couch.
Curious and already a bit aroused by her fierceness, he allowed her to push him onto the couch and stretched out on his back. He interlaced his hands behind his head and watched her. She unzipped her jeans and pushed them down her legs, hopping on one foot to get them off. Underneath, she wore expensive-looking panties with a lacy edge.
He whistled out loud. “Sexy Mama.”
“Shut up.”
He snapped his mouth shut. Okay then. She was in a mood, and he was just going to go with it.
Off went her sweater, revealing a silk bra so dainty it was actually sexy. Kind of a reverse good-girl-gone-bad sexiness.
He didn’t whistle this time. His cock did all the talking, swelling against his thick fleece winter workout gear.
In bra and panties, Bethany climbed on top of him and straddled his hips, nestling her sweet thighs on either side of his erection. He groaned out loud, forgetting the part about shutting up.
She wrapped her hand around his cock, hard and fierce through the fabric. It jumped against her hand. “Let’s fuck.”
Usually, the combination of curse words and her pretty wide-eyed face made him laugh. She always seemed uncomfortable with “dirty” words. Not this time. This time, she said “fuck” and she meant “fuck.”
“Whatever’s gotten into you, I like it,” he murmured.
“Then touch me.” She rose up on her knees and grabbed his hand, bringing it to her sex. “Make me come.”
Holy shit.
He cupped her sex, heat radiating through the silk of her panties. Heat and juicy wetness. With his thumb, he pressed the silk across her clit, using the damp fabric to create the friction he knew she needed.
“Harder,” she ordered. “Don’t play with me. Just make me come.”
Hot damn. Okay.
“Then touch your nipples,” he ordered her. “Pinch them. Over your bra, like this.” He pinched her clit to show her. Her body jolted and arched hard. She clapped her hands to her breasts and squeezed, sending more tremors through her body.
“I changed my mind. I want to see your gorgeous tits. Bring ’em out.” If she wanted to get down and dirty, he’d oblige. He reached up with his other hand and tugged her bra down, so her breasts spilled out. Her nipples were already hard and rose-brown. His mouth watered at the delicious sight of those aroused peaks. He undid the front clasp on her bra and she shrugged it off her body.
He moved his hands back to her sex and pulled her panties down. One hand between her legs, the other on the fleshy curves of her ass. Moving her hips back and forth for maximum stimulation.
“Pinch those nipples,” he ordered again. “Hard. Show me your boobs. God, you’re so hot.”
How had they gone from her taking charge to him bossing her around? He wasn’t sure, but it was all working for him.
And for her. She plucked at her own nipples, making little mewling noises, while he fingered her slippery folds. Her clit swelled against his fingers. He gritted his teeth against his own arousal. His job was clear. Make her come. Then go from there.
Ignoring his throbbing cock, he stroked her slick, swollen clit and urged her on with hot, nasty words. “Pinch those nipples. God, you’re wet. I want you to come all over my hand like a dirty girl. Fuck my hand. Fuck it hard. You should feel my cock right now. It’s so hard I could punch a hole in this couch. Soon as you come, it’s going inside your sweet, hot pussy. And you’re going to scream my name so loud they’ll hear it in the mountains. Are your nipples hard? Show me. Show off those gorgeous breasts.”
But she was beyond hearing anything by now. She erupted in a wild orgasm, her inner thighs clamping together, her head tossed back. She was such a vision, with her waterfall of hair swinging behind her and her bare body damp with sweat. He had to clench his jaw hard to keep from coming.
He watched her ride it out, soaking in every wild cry and deep moan she made. Watching her release was pure agonizing pleasure. But he wasn’t going to rush her, even if he was about to explode.
As soon as the tension left her body and she relaxed with a sigh, he put her hand on his cock. “You ready for this? Because I have some ideas, if you’re willing.”
“Very willing.” The soft glow in her eyes made him feel like a million bucks. “For whatever you say.”
Good. He lifted her off his body. In a power move that he hoped didn’t mess up his back, he rolled the two of them over. With her on her stomach, he was crouched over her like a rutting lion. He hauled her ass in the air. So pretty, with those sleek, creamy, vulnerable curves. He shaped it with rough hands, smoothing her flesh and dipping around to the juicy folds of her sex.
He heard her breath quicken again. A tremor, a sigh, a shift of her thighs.
If he waited any longer, he’d lose his mind.
He nudged her thighs farther apart and lowered his pants, allowing his fierce erection to spring free. He fisted his own thick length.
Through the fog of lust, he remembered. Condom. Wallet. Coffee table.
After unfurling it onto his cock, he positioned himself at her wet entrance. She arched her back to make it easier, and that one gesture nearly sent him over the edge. Her tender body was exposed before him, his for the taking. It was almost too much.
When he finally eased his cock inside her, he experienced a sense of utter relief along with the pleasure. Inside her, that was where he wanted to be. Now, later, tomorrow, next month. Next year. Being inside her satisfied him on a deep, pure level.
He angled deep, and found a spot that made her gasp with pleasure. “Oh Nate, Nate,” she whimpered. “Please…right there.” He stroked once, then again, until her body quivered with another climax, different this time, like a depth charge instead of fireworks.
And then he couldn’t hold back one more second. A climax ripped out of him along with a long, helpless groan. Pleasure plunged him into an altered state. He knew he was cursing, the way he did sometimes during sex. He knew he was clamping her hips hard to keep himself deep inside her. He knew his cock was pumping into her like a piece of hydraulics. But all those observations were covered with a blur of pure electric sensation.
Some time passed—maybe he slept for a moment—and he came awake to find the two of them wrapped around each other like two puppies. They were spooned on the couch, his arms around her, her head resting on his biceps.
Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, hair sticking to her cheeks.
He’d actually managed to fuck the tidy out of her. Not bad for a humble firefighter.
His mouth was bone-dry. “Need some water?” he croaked.
“I’ll get it.” She extricated herself from their embrace and tumbled off the couch. Not bothering with any of her clothes, she walked bare-
assed and sexy to the kitchen.
He sat up on the couch so he could get an even better view when she came back. “You seem…different,” he told her as she handed him a glass of water. She’d brought one for herself too. “You usually wrap yourself up after sex. Hide yourself away.”
“Hm.” She took a sip and curled next to him. “Maybe I am different. Or maybe it’s just one of those nights when I don’t care anymore.”
He tipped his glass to click against hers. “Well, here’s to you not caring.”
She shot him an odd look, her wide-set eyes catching the firelight. Maybe he’d put that wrong. “I mean, here’s to whatever brought you here in that mood tonight. I dig all your moods, but this was a good one.”
“It was a terrible mood. But you turned it around. Thank you for…for being here,” she added softly.
“Sure thing. I live here, so it’s not hard to do.”
“Don’t joke. I’m serious. You were really here for me. I was kind of crazy and—”
“Chaotic.”
“Definitely chaotic. And you hung in there with me. You didn’t judge.”
“Why would I judge something that ends up in the orgasm of the century?”
She gave him another chiding look. “I’m trying to say something sincere. You keep turning it into a joke.”
“Bethany Morrison, meet Nate Prudhoe. He’s a bit of a joker. It’s annoying as fuck sometimes.”
She bit her lip, as if trying not to laugh. “So I can’t even say something nice without—”
Her phone rang. They both jumped, almost as if they’d forgotten that the rest of the world existed. Everything that had happened since she’d gotten out of her car was so intense, so vivid, that other things—like phones—had faded out of sight.
He was closer to her clothes, so he grabbed her phone from her jeans and handed it to her.
“Gretel,” she said in surprise. “I just talked to her not long ago.”
She clicked on the call, and before she even answered, Gretel’s panicked voice rang through the room. “Get over here, fast!” she shouted. “Something’s wrong with Abby.”
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