Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams

by Debbi Rawlins

  If his voice hadn’t lowered, if he hadn’t sounded so earnest, she might have turned and run. But something was different about him tonight. Something that stirred more than her curiosity. “Why were you smoking?”

  He sighed and dropped his hand altogether. “Half a cigarette. Big deal.”

  “You claim you don’t smoke.”

  “Shit, Doc.” He shrugged away and stared out at the semidark garden. “Don’t start that analyzing crap.”

  “Nick.” She crossed her arms and pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders. His musky scent rose from the fabric and drugged her already intoxicated senses.

  “I’ve probably had the sum total of one pack of cigarettes in my entire life. Occasionally, when I have a drink, I have a cigarette. End of story.”

  “Okay,” she said softly, deciding they weren’t going to get anywhere with this conversation.

  He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay?”

  “Sure, I can be reasonable.”

  He laughed quietly and then stared out toward the faint pink glow along the horizon. “Hell, it’s still light enough. Come here.” He held out a hand. “I want to show you something.”

  “Out there?” Emma squinted at the chaos of flowers and shrubs with more than a little skepticism.

  “Come on. I know you’re not a wuss.”

  “Being a wuss has nothing to do with it. It’s getting dark. Plus I’ve got on high heels.”

  “Amen to that.” He grinned down at her legs. “Doc, you have no business having such great wheels.”

  She made a sound of exasperation even though his compliment gave her a warm rush of pleasure. “Wheels? Don’t be a pig.”

  Laughing, he opened the roll of mints and popped one into his mouth. He held them out to her. “Want one?”

  “No, thanks— Well, maybe I will.”

  One side of his mouth lifted, and she bit back the urge to tell him wanting a breath mint had absolutely nothing to do with kissing. Assuming that’s what he was thinking. Of course it was.

  She chomped into the mint and caught the inside of her cheek. Dammit.

  “Ready?”

  “For?”

  “It’s just a short walk, Doc.”

  She hesitated. She supposed she should ask what he could possibly show her in the growing darkness, but the truth was, she wanted to go with him. Anyway, how much could he have in mind? He still called her Doc.

  He tugged on her hand. “Come on. If you scream a dozen people will come to your rescue.”

  “But since they seem to think you’re God’s gift to us mere mortals, they’d probably—” She trailed off when he dropped her hand and abruptly turned away. Though not before she saw the irritation in his face.

  “It was a joke, Nick.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He shrugged. “Forget it.”

  She touched his arm. “What you do for the shelter and the community, I think is really—”

  He turned and stopped her with a finger to her lips. “There are ground rules to this excursion. No talking about me.”

  She drew her head back in mock surprise. “And I thought we lived in a democracy.”

  “Scratch that. No talking, period.”

  “If you think—”

  His mouth silenced her this time. It came down so fast, she didn’t have time to react. She just stood there, half stunned, half aroused and entirely uncertain.

  She did her best not to respond to the pressure building against her lips, the tugging and nibbling and licking that were making her slightly light-headed. He used his tongue to trace the seam of her lips, teasing, prodding, inspiring wicked thoughts. Mint and champagne mingled on his warm breath, making for a heady combination that undermined her common sense.

  She didn’t know exactly when she put her hand on his shoulder, or slipped her arm around his neck. But when the friction of her breasts rubbing against his chest started a pool of moisture between her thighs, lightning struck and she jerked away.

  Caught off balance, his arms tightened around her. “Ah, Emma, don’t run away.” His voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse, raspy.

  The way he’d said her name made her go boneless. The way his arousal swelled against her belly forced her to move back and quell the shiver building at the base of her spine.

  What the hell was she doing? This behavior was inexcusable. He was her test subject. She couldn’t afford to color her results now.

  She took a deep breath. The first attempt didn’t work. She tried again, and then exhaled slowly, quietly. “What did you want to show me?”

  He stared silently at her. It was too dark to make out his features, but facing the illumination of the house as she was, she knew he could see hers. She huddled deeper into his coat and turned away.

  “Cold?” he asked, raising his hand to touch her cheek.

  “What did you want to show me?” she repeated.

  He lowered his hand. “What if I told you I only wanted to get you out here alone?”

  “I’d say that would piss off your girlfriend.”

  “My girlfriend?” He paused. “Tiffany?”

  Emma didn’t say anything.

  Nick snorted. “Is that what Brenda told you?”

  “You’ve mentioned her name yourself.” Using the sleeves, she pulled the jacket tighter around herself. It felt decadently intimate, as if they were his arms holding her, squeezing her tighter. If that’s what she wanted, all she had to do was take a step forward…

  “I just started seeing her two weeks ago, and I may have mentioned I had a date with her, but we don’t see each other exclusively. I don’t see anyone exclusively.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” she muttered, annoyed that she sounded so tart. She shouldn’t be having this conversation, much less have an opinion about Nick’s dating habits.

  “I don’t hide that fact,” he said, defensiveness clear in his voice. “Not from any woman I date. As far as Tiffany is concerned, even if I wanted to see her exclusively she’d think I was trying to cramp her style.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He chuckled. “Come here. Let’s sit down.”

  She shook her head. Was it because she was overly tired, or was he being weird? “There’s no place to sit.”

  “Sure there is. Right here by the pond.”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “Then you’ll have to trust me.” He held out his hand to her.

  “This may amaze you but there are chairs in the house. People actually sit on them.”

  “Ah, there’s the rub. They come with people. Me, I like it out here where it’s nice and quiet.”

  A frog croaked right at that moment, and Emma jumped. She uttered a mild oath that made Nick laugh. “Okay, I’m out of here.”

  “Come on, Doc.” He grabbed her hand, preventing escape. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  It was silly, but she regretted that he’d reverted to Doc. It probably should’ve been reassuring. “I save it for the daytime when I can see what I’m getting into.”

  He cupped her nape with his large warm palm. “What are you afraid of, Doc?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing at all?” His voice had lowered again, sending goose bumps stampeding up her arms.

  “Not you.”

  His laugh was low and throaty. Damn him. “Prove it. Come sit with me.”

  She hesitated, and he tugged at her hand. She took a few cautious steps and saw the pond, the shimmering pool of water much larger than she’d expected. It looked more like a lake. Of course in Nick’s world, everything seemed to be bigger and better.

  Thankfully, he didn’t go far before he started to lower himself to the ground. “There’s a flat rock here we can sit on,” he said, motioning to a slab that jutted out a little over the water.

  It wasn’t so dark that she couldn’t see the area was small…too small. “There isn’t enough room for both of us.”

  “Sure
there is.” He sat as far back as he could. “You sit here.” He patted the spot between his spread legs.

  “Oh, yeah, sure thing.”

  “Chicken.”

  “That has nothing to do with it.” Lying wasn’t necessarily bad in this instance. “I’ll ruin my dress.”

  “Use my coat to sit on.”

  “Then I’ll ruin it.”

  “You are chicken.” His tone implied the idea amazed him. Ha! As if she didn’t know that trick.

  “Cut the act. It won’t work.” She lifted her chin. She wouldn’t let him goad her. “I’m practical. That’s all.”

  “Uh-huh.” He picked up a small, flat stone and skipped it across the water’s surface.

  “Think what you want.”

  “I doubt you’d like me to do that.” His voice was husky again, leaving no room for idle interpretation.

  Behind her, the music and laughter from inside the house seeped out when someone opened the door to the terrace. She turned but could only see the outline of a man and woman.

  “Shit,” Nick muttered. “Come on, Doc, sit down before someone sees you and comes sticking their nose out here.”

  She thought about it only for a second, and then took the hand he offered and lowered her butt to the rock with an unladylike thud. She didn’t care. Better that than someone seeing them outside together. Alone. In the dark.

  “Your eagerness is flattering.” Nick chuckled and wrapped an arm around the front of her shoulders to pull her back against him. “You’re stiff. Relax.”

  What the hell was she doing, besides blatantly asking for trouble? “I’m going back to the house.”

  His other arm came around and crossed over her, imprisoning her, his elbow resting at the top of her breast. “Look at the moon.”

  “Where?” It was hard to breathe, much less move or speak. Yet it felt oddly soothing to be snuggled up against him. The way he cradled her back and lightly rested his arms around her offered comfort and companionship.

  But she wasn’t fooled that if she gave him the slightest encouragement, if she so much as turned her head to give him permission, he’d swoop down like a hawk. The idea gave her an inappropriate thrill.

  “Look, behind the willows.” He pointed and ducked his head so that his jaw grazed her temple. “It’s a crescent. See?”

  His skin was already slightly beard-roughened, and his musky scent made her want to snuggle closer, turn her head that extra inch.

  “Nick?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why not?” His arms tightened ever so slightly and his breath stirred her hair as he made a quiet sound of contentment.

  “Not like this.”

  “Isn’t it nice to not have a desk between us? We’re just two people sharing a moon. We aren’t doing anything wrong, Emma.”

  But she wanted to. That was the problem. “It’s just not professional.”

  “Good, that’s my point. This is a social occasion, nothing professional about it.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I won’t lie. I’m glad to get you alone like this. Away from the lab where I’m not your guinea pig. I like you and I think you like me.” He paused as if looking for confirmation. She said nothing. “No reason we can’t just be two people who are attracted to each other.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. Tomorrow we’ll have another session and—” His lips were too close to her ear, his warm breath tickling something deep inside her, making her want to give in. “Later, maybe, after the study.” She bit her lower lip. She shouldn’t have said that.

  “Look at me.”

  She stiffened, but couldn’t deny the excitement building in her belly, traveling to all points north and south. “Why?”

  He shifted, angling his body, and guiding her chin toward him. “For this.”

  His lips touched hers so gently it was frustrating. He drew back a little, but then slanted his mouth against hers and tasted with more urgency. His hand slid to her breast and he cupped her with such quiet reverence it made her shiver.

  “Nick,” she whispered, weak and unconvincing, “I’m serious. We shouldn’t—” She moaned when his hand retreated, and then through the light silk fabric, he rubbed only her nipple. It budded immediately, greedy for more of his touch.

  She squirmed and whimpered, horrified the sound came from her mouth.

  It only fueled Nick. He covered her breast with his hand, using the center of his palm to create unbearable friction. He’d slid his other hand up her leg where the hem of her dress rode up on her thigh.

  “Emma, kiss me.” His voice was so ragged she barely heard him. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, and then sought her tongue with his.

  She wanted to dive in with him, get lost in the heat and insanity that was making her needy and foolish. They’d gone this far already. A line had been crossed. What would it matter if…

  “Nick? Is that you?”

  A low-pitched feminine voice came from behind them.

  Emma blinked away the fog and tried to quell the rising panic in her chest as she tugged down her dress. A circle of light shined directly into their faces, blinding her.

  Nick sighed and sank back against the rocks. “Hello, Tiffany.”

  10

  NICK HAD ALWAYS MADE IT a rule to never play with fire. He stuck to that principle no matter what, even if it meant brutal honesty, buckets of dreaded female tears or moving on from a relationship that had been relatively satisfying. So what the hell had he done last night?

  He sat in the psych lab’s parking lot and stared at the small white building. The torture chamber. That’s what today would feel like, torture, sitting across from her, staring into her anxious hazel eyes, remembering how her breast fit so perfectly in his hand, how the touch of her lips alone gave him an instant hard-on.

  The thought of having to see her again should have put a bad taste in his mouth. Especially so soon after last night’s disaster. Hell, he couldn’t wait.

  Shit!

  He got out of the Porsche and stretched. His back and neck ached. Too much tossing and turning last night. If he’d gotten any decent sleep at all, his dreams probably would’ve been whoppers.

  The idea of using another Midnight Fantasy reader’s letter today did make him wonder if he’d totally lost his mind.

  Things were heated enough between them. Hell, he didn’t know if he could get the entire story out without totally blowing it, or laying her across the desk, spreading her thighs and tasting her honey.

  His blood pumped faster.

  Maybe she’d be ready for him. Maybe with the combination of last night’s foreplay and the erotic tale he’d tell today, she’d welcome him.

  Excitement stirred in his belly, tightened his jeans. She had the most incredible lips of any woman he’d ever run across. Fleeting images of what those lips could do to him haunted him, made him think about getting back in his car.

  But a sudden recollection of the humiliation that burned in her face last night cooled him down. He’d give anything to have erased her embarrassment. He shouldn’t have pushed, but respected her reluctance. Good thing Tiffany hadn’t caused a scene. That would’ve been the end of it for sure.

  He froze in the middle of pocketing his keys.

  The end of what?

  Nothing was going on between him and Doc. Nothing at all. She’d never given him the come-on, and she certainly hadn’t leaped at the chance to go see his Chevy. For his part, he found her funny and smart, and sexy in spite of those ugly black glasses she hid behind. Of course he was interested. Just not seriously.

  Glasses.

  It finally hit him. She hadn’t been wearing them last night. He grunted. A sexy dress and no glasses. That meant something.

  He finished stuffing his keys in his pocket and then realized he hadn’t locked the Porsche. Hesitating, he glanced in the window. Nothing worth stealing; only the plaque he’d received last night was s
tuck between the console and the passenger seat.

  Damn that Esther Simon. She’d promised no fanfare.

  He never minded donating time, money or know-how to a good cause, but he detested attracting attention. Everyone he’d ever worked with knew that, and of all times for Mrs. Simon to get stupid, and do it in front of Emma.

  He left the car unlocked and crossed the parking lot, craning his neck to see if her car was parked on the side. He couldn’t tell, but he was only five minutes early. She was probably already inside.

  In fact, she was sitting at her desk when he opened the door. Ugly black glasses in place. Hair pulled into a bun. The big white shirt hiding her perfect breasts.

  She glanced up, unsmiling, and blinked.

  “Hi, Doc.”

  “Hello.” She seemed stiff and formal, and he hated it.

  Sighing, he slumped into his usual chair across from her.

  “Don’t turn the recorder on yet,” he said when it looked as though she was reaching for the button.

  “Okay,” she said calmly, and chose a red-colored pencil out of the Far Side mug behind the recorder.

  He wondered what that cherry-red would look like on her lips. “We need to talk.”

  Wariness crept into her eyes, then denial and finally acceptance. “I guess so.”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

  Surprise registered in her face and then she blinked. “I don’t recall you twisting my arm.” Her lashes lowered a second. “We both had a slip in judgment. But I can put it behind me if you can.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  She frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t have a slip in judgment. I’m not sorry I kissed you, or that I wanted to do a lot more with you. I regret that we were rudely interrupted with that damn flashlight shining in our faces. What I regret most of all was that you were embarrassed by it.”

  “What about Tiffany?”

  He shrugged. “What about her?”

  Her face tightened with disapproval.

  “You think I’m being callous because you don’t understand our relationship.”

  “But she was your date. That alone—”

  “No, she wasn’t. I would never have taken anyone to a reception like that. Esther Simon had invited her.”