by Sarina Bowen
“Oh?” A guilty blush broke over her skin. Callie’s sins with Hank were far worse than plotting to jump ship. If Dr. Fennigan knew what had transpired between them, she might even encourage her to interview elsewhere.
“He said you fixed some poor child’s wrist on the green today.”
“It was only…”
“…Nursemaid’s elbow,” Dr. Fennigan finished. “I figured as much. But Mr. Lazarus thinks you performed a miracle. He gets a certain look on his face when he talks about you, honestly.” The older woman was smiling now, and Callie felt herself break into a sweat. “Good thing you two don’t have a doctor-patient relationship.”
What?
Face aflame, Callie forced herself to meet Dr. Fennigan’s eyes. That little statement piqued her interest like nothing else the doctor had ever said to her. But something wouldn’t let her ask for clarification. After the mess she’d made for herself already, it was just too risky.
The director winked. “I’d better get going. Apparently, there are two or three fires that need putting out even before the week begins.” Laying a hand on Callie’s arm, she bid her good-night.
Her mind spinning, Callie walked outside, where it was already dark. The crisp air held the dry scent of decaying leaves. Vermont was a beautiful place, but Callie knew that it was time to let go. She dug her phone and pager out of her bag. Willow’s messages were waiting. She ought to reply, but Callie would call her after this difficult discussion was done.
Instead, Callie keyed Hank’s number into her phone before she lost her nerve. If he was home, she’d tell him about her career dilemma tonight, before she lost her nerve.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After taking Callie’s unexpected call, Hank was pretty damned happy that he’d spent the afternoon cleaning up his house. He had no idea what she wanted to talk to him about, but he’d encouraged her to come over, anyway.
Hank adjusted the volume on his living-room stereo, and checked the supply of firewood. Since he was expecting guests later, he’d tried to make the place look cheerier and less lonely than it usually did. There were several kinds of beer in the fridge and a pot of chili simmering on a back burner.
While he’d been spiffing up the place, Hank had also spent the past few hours replaying the scene at the harvest festival in his mind. Damn Alexis. Did a more shallow person exist? It caused him almost physical pain to realize how many months he’d spent brooding over her. What a waste.
When they were dating, the only nice words out of Alexis’s mouth were moaned in bed. The rest of the time she’d spent complaining.
Until today, he’d forgotten.
He didn’t even need a side-by-side comparison to know that Callie was twice the woman Alexis was. While Alexis had shot off her mouth about the screaming little kid, Callie had walked over and fixed it, like some kind of brainy, busty superhero. It made Hank smile just to remember it. Callie was the whole package, tied up in a bow.
He’d probably blown his chance. Except now she was on her way to his house, with something she wanted to say to him. He had no clue what it was. But he would make her a drink and listen.
And look for an opening.
Whistling to himself, Hank wheeled past the kitchen and into the master suite. As he entered his generously sized handicapped bathroom, his own face greeted him in the mirror. Instead of looking away, as he usually did, Hank gave himself the once-over. And it wasn’t entirely bad news. All the extra physical therapy was starting to show in the form of added muscle. And his color was better than it had been since before his accident.
How strange to see the old Hank looking back at him, when he didn’t really feel like the same person. But the mirror didn’t know that. Apart from the wheelchair, he looked like the guy who was about to throw a snowboard in his old SUV, and jet off to Breckenridge or Tahoe.
Hank opened up his medicine cabinet. Outside, he heard the sound of tires on the gravel drive. The knock on the front door came while he was still rummaging through his medications.
“Come in,” he called. “I’ll just be a minute.” He heard the door open.
“Take your time,” a sweet voice called.
Hank found the pill he’d been looking for. He pressed it out of the bubble pack and dropped it into his palm. It lay there, the brightly colored coating winking up at him.
If at first, you don’t succeed…
It was easier to spout clichés than to defeat his fears. But since when was a physical challenge so intimidating? You were supposed to fall on your ass a hundred times before the trick became solid. And as soon as you mastered it, you started in on the next thing. Hank brought the pill up to his mouth and dry swallowed it.
The problem was, when you bombed a snowboarding trick, you could hurt yourself pretty bad. Hank knew that better than anybody. But when you crashed in the bedroom, there were other people who got hurt, too. It was complicated as all hell, and he hated that. But still, it was worth the risk. The good stuff always was.
* * *
Callie used her minute alone to take envious glances at his incredible open-plan home. There was a big stone fireplace in the corner, where a log glowed behind the grate. Nearby, a giant L-shaped sofa framed a cocktail table. Its wooden surface was low and quirky, the rough-hewn planks surrounded by a hammered-steel edge. Everywhere she looked there were masculine, industrial details on display. Behind the living area stretched a long bar, fronting a sleek kitchen. Off to the right, floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around a dining alcove.
Wow.
From somewhere nearby, hidden speakers emitted the low pulse of music. Beside the door sat a shoe rack. Taking the hint, she toed off her leather clogs just as Hank emerged from a doorway, his shoulders looking so broad and strapping that she wondered how he could fit through the door. Above that, he wore a devastatingly handsome smile. “Well, hi there.”
“Hi.” Callie returned his smile, feeling self-conscious. “Are you… Do you have company?” She smelled food cooking, and hoped she wasn’t interrupting something.
He hesitated for a brief pulse before shaking his head. “No. I was just fixing to make myself a cocktail. Will you have one?”
It was Callie’s turn to hesitate. She hadn’t meant this to be a social visit. But it didn’t have to be an antisocial one. And she wasn’t ready to just blurt out her request. Please don’t make trouble for the study if I leave for California. She took a deep breath. “A drink would be lovely, thanks.” She would ask this favor as a friend, and there was no reason why friends shouldn’t have a cocktail together.
He turned into his kitchen, reaching up to free a couple glasses from their rack, where they hung under a wall cabinet. It was both accessible and macho. It looked like the setup over Rupert’s Bar in town. “We can do a gin and tonic, or beer. Or a snakebite?”
“The snakebite,” Callie chose. “I love those.”
Hank opened a below-counter refrigerator and took out two bottles. He capped them on a bottle opener affixed to the wall, then carefully split the beer and hard cider between their two glasses. “Why don’t you grab these and have a seat,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”
Callie took the glasses and carried them over to the sofa. A minute later he swung into view with a cheese board and crackers. He set the board on the coffee table, then quickly bounced himself from the wheelchair to the sofa beside her. He popped a cracker into his mouth and smiled at her.
She handed him a glass. “Cheers.”
They touched glasses, and Callie took a sip, holding his eyes. She had it again—the sensation that she was in over her head. This sexy man, in his bachelor pad, with those penetrating dark eyes made her feel like she was in seventh grade again. She wasn’t used to sitting at the cool kids’ table.
He eyed her over the rim of his pint glass while he took a deep drink. “What’s on your mind, lady?”
She took another swallow, wondering how best to put it. “Well, a few months ago, just before you
shook up my hospital job, there was a change I was just about to make.”
He put his elbow on the back of the couch, and propped his head against his hand. His brown eyes bored into hers, and she had the sensation that nobody could listen more closely than he did at that moment. Long after she left Vermont, Callie was sure she’d remember the affecting way he looked at her, as if she were the only person alive.
She plunged onward. “I’m a young doctor, and so recommendations matter a lot. I’ve been wanting to move to California. But I can’t get a job there unless my transcripts are squeaky clean.” She took another sip of her drink, the cider and beer together creating a lovely tart flavor that she would always associate with Vermont. Hank regarded her silently, which was beginning to feel unnerving. “So, I was hoping you wouldn’t make a fuss if the hospital appoints someone else to run the study. Because I need my boss to keep her funding if I disappear.”
There. She’d said it.
Hank kept watching her, and she stared back, trying not to fall into the dark pools of his eyes. Finally he spoke. “You came to tell me you want to move to California.”
She nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it for almost a year.”
He didn’t say another word, not a single one. Instead, he reached for the glass in her hand. Removing it, he set it on the coffee table. Then he hitched himself closer to her and took her face in both hands. The brown eyes got larger as they approached. And then they fell shut as he brushed her lips with his.
Damn. It. All.
Callie’s heart began to pound as Hank’s thumb brushed lightly across her jaw. She really ought to pull away. She knew she should. But her body went absolutely still, refusing to move.
His next kiss was as slow and gentle as a whisper. Afterward, they regarded each other silently for a beat, before his lips came down again, slanting soft and moist across hers. His tongue brushed her lower lip, and the sweet slick against her mouth caused her to take a sharp breath. When she opened for him, Hank made a little noise of approval in the back of his throat. It was a cross between a groan and a grunt. But whatever it was, the sound rippled through her body. Without meaning to, Callie leaned in, her body ignoring orders to stay put. The slide of his tongue against hers became insistent, and his firm, full lips pressed their case, convincing Callie to let her guard down.
Damn, but this man could kiss.
She gave herself over to it, reaching for him, yielding to him. The next moment she found herself briefly airborne, as powerful arms lifted her by the hips and onto his lap. She was facing him now, almost straddling him. But there was no time to consider the implications, since his tongue kept up its friendly invasion of her mouth (and, truth be told, of her executive function as well). Meanwhile, Hank’s hands skimmed down her back, hovering low on her waist.
To steady herself, Callie put her hands on his chest. But the hard muscle under her palms invited exploration, and she skimmed her fingertips over his pecs and down his sides until he groaned. “Callie,” he whispered against her mouth.
But she didn’t want to hear what he might say next. Perhaps he was about to suggest they knock it off, or maybe the opposite—he might have been ready to ask permission to take things further. Both options were unsettling. So Callie did the only sensible thing. She wrapped her hands behind his muscular neck and kissed him harder.
Hank didn’t argue. He only pulled her closer, those steely arms encircling her with a vice grip. Her breasts grazed his chest, and the friction was crazy-making. And how weird to think that Hank was the second man she’d kissed today. That was a lifetime first. There was absolutely no comparison, either. Hank’s kisses were magic.
“Callie,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’m going to take you to bed now.”
At that, she took a deep, shaky breath. Her muddled brain unpacked that little announcement, noting that it hadn’t been a question, but rather a statement of fact.
Any doctor who has ever worked near an E.R. learns to make quick decisions, even if the consequences may be enormous. In the split second that followed, Callie evaluated the possible repercussions of following Hank into the bedroom. Side effects may include dizziness, loss of dignity and confusion. Not to mention the possibility of another mutually embarrassing incident.
But seriously. Was she really going to take a pass? Hell no. And maybe she could get him out of her system.
While her lust-clouded brain did its best to sort through the repercussions, Hank set her on her feet. Before she could wake from her panting stupor, he transferred to his chair in that athletic way he had, like a bad-ass gymnast executing a maneuver from one apparatus to the other. Then he reached for her hands, pulling her down onto his lap. She leaned back on his chest as he steered toward the bedroom. “I’ve never had a passenger before,” he whispered into her ear, before nipping it.
She turned her head to meet his smiling eyes. So he claimed her mouth again, and Callie was only a little surprised when he was able to steer them all the way to the bedside while also burning her up with his kisses.
“We’ve arrived,” he whispered. Then powerful arms scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed, which was a low, modern piece of furniture. Another effortless press of his arms on the chair swung his body over to join her. He used one arm to bring his knees onto the bed, too. And then he gathered Callie up and began covering her neck with kisses. She wrapped her arms around his back, and the volume of all that muscle under her hands made her more than a little giddy.
“You just feel so good,” he said into the V-neck of her shirt. “If I promise not to freak out, can I take off some of your clothes?”
She dipped her head to find his lips. His kiss was wet and urgent, but she broke it off to answer him. “Maybe you’d better get naked first, as a guarantee.”
His brown eyes smiled up at her. “How about we go shot for shot?”
Callie took a deep breath, giving herself one more chance to come to her senses. But that didn’t happen. “Deal,” she said instead.
With a grin, he did an ab crunch, stripping his T-shirt to reveal that beautiful chest. For so long, she’d been yearning to reach for him. Now she did, letting her fingers wander down the sunburst tattoo on his pecs. He closed his eyes in appreciation.
When she began to kiss a path across his chest, he made a greedy sound in the back of his throat. “Your turn now,” he rumbled, reaching for her shirt buttons. When the shirt fell away, he reached for the strap of her bra.
“Wait,” she chided. “I thought we were going shot for shot?”
“Stickler,” he whispered. “Have it your way.” Then he put his nose between her breasts and licked a line across the border where the bra blocked him from reaching more of her. Her nipples hardened at the very suggestion, and Callie whimpered in spite of herself.
Torturing her further, he placed his mouth over one silk-covered nipple, sucking gently. The warmth of his tongue through the dampened fabric was tantalizing. “Okay, take it off,” she begged.
“Rules are rules,” Hank chuckled.
“You’ve never followed a rule in your life,” Callie shot back, arching off the bed to get more of her breast into his mouth.
“Good point.” Half a second later, he had her bra off and her breast against his tongue. Opening his mouth widely, he sucked her nipple in deep.
“Oh, God yes,” Callie hissed. The swirl of his mouth on her aching tip shot a sizzle of longing straight through her core. Just as before, Hank was bringing her from zero to ninety in a hurry. Given their history, it occurred to her that she ought to be more cautious. But everything just felt too good to worry.
With shaking fingers, she reached for his fly, pausing her hand on the button. “Now or never,” she whispered.
“Do it,” he said. Eager hands reached down to help her. He shucked off his jeans, leaving his boxer briefs still snug on his waist. Callie reached for the elastic waistband, but he held her hand away. “Not just yet, okay?”
&nbs
p; She looked up into his eyes, questioning. But his regarded her warmly. “I’m not chickening out. There’s just one more step than there used to be.” He kissed her. “Since our disaster at Willow’s, I’ve done some…homework.”
Callie grinned up at him, rendered speechless by the image of Hank touching himself.
“Trust me, it’s the only kind of homework I was ever good at.” He kissed her again, his mouth melting her own. There was plenty of willingness and ambition in that kiss. She didn’t object when he liberated her of her own jeans next, leaving her with a pair of silk panties. Then he rolled on top of her, fitting his hips to hers. With kisses that could power the Eastern Seaboard with their intensity, he moved against her. She felt him grow hard against her body, his desire blooming between her legs.
She reached down, skimming her fingers against the bulge in his briefs, stretching her fingers down to rub his sack, and he let out a groan. The way his eyes fell closed as she touched him seemed to indicate that he had pretty good sensation there.
It was hard to shut off thinking like a doctor. Even here.
But then another one of his potent kisses had her shucking off the mental lab coat. “I want to touch you,” she whispered.
“I’m all yours now,” he said, reaching into his waistband. He eased himself out of the briefs, his hand wrapped around his shaft. Slowly, he massaged his length, and Callie felt herself flush with desire at the sight of him. He was thick and beautiful. She pushed his hands out of the way and took over.
“Hell yes,” he said, rolling onto his back. He tugged her down to kiss him, and so she crawled on top, the silk triangle of her panties meeting his cock.
She stirred her hips, sliding over him until he growled. “You can feel that?” she teased.
“Think so. You’d better do it again just to make sure,” he chuckled.
She slid against him, torturing both of them, until he rolled her sideways, grabbed her panties and yanked them down. Even as he continued to kiss her hungrily, his hand slid down between her legs. When his fingers found the pool of moisture waiting there, he moaned into her mouth. “Goddamn, lady.” Releasing her he reached over and pulled a condom out of the drawer and dropped it onto the bed.
