by Inez Kelley
Had he tasted this good last night around the campfire? She didn’t recall the savory taste of control he had now. His hands on her waist, her breasts pressed into his chest, their heartbeats mingled in time. When he pulled back, her whimper threatened to follow him.
“I’m going to marry you, Charlie. You love me as much as I love you. I know it like I know your favorite color is royal blue, you despise politics and you like Apple Jacks for a late-night snack. You’ve never lied to me so stop lying to yourself. I’m your best friend and I’m going to be your husband. I will love you until the day I die, but I will not make love to you until the time is right. Get used to it.”
“You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”
“Have to be to handle you.”
Across the hall, the control room door snapped open. Justine blinked, seeing their embrace, then beamed a wide smile at them, her graying brown hair scattered about her head. “Holy shit, you two were serious! About damned time, if you ask me. I have no idea when you two cooked up this little surprise but Nathan’s going to have a heart attack. You’ve got fifty-two emails already. The server is struggling to keep up with all the hits the web page is getting. Now’s the time to ask for a raise, kids. The race for Wed or Bed is gold.”
Bastian dropped a hard kiss on her mouth and stepped away. Determination sparkled in his eyes. “Love you. Now go back to work. And start picking out china patterns because I’m going to win.”
Charlie watched the door swing closed behind him before allowing a hedonistic grin to lift her lip. “Oh yeah? Just wait. I’m about to turn up the heat. Let’s see how much fire Dr. Hot can handle.”
“I’m bored.”
The tapping pen created a rapid staccato against the table but Bastian ignored the sighing man behind him. Every few minutes, the pen stilled before scribbling a note.
“Seriously, my brain is oozing into mush.”
“Rav, go do charts.”
“I did. I’m all caught up. God, don’t people wreck their cars on Tuesday mornings anymore? Is nobody falling down and breaking anything?”
Chuckle hidden, Bastian clicked another icon. “I’m sure they’re doing it just to irritate you. Why don’t you go down to the lab—?”
“Did it.”
“Go flirt with Suzanne then.”
“Did it.” The skinny Pakistani man wheeled his chair to the counter, trying to peer at the laptop over Bastian’s shoulder. “What’re you doing?”
“Trying to read. The show got a bunch of email hits last night, and I want to go through some before Charlie sees them. I, for one, am glad we’re slow. It’ll get busy enough soon.”
Rav’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re getting married again. Hell, Talbot, you and I were the last bachelors left in the ER. You’re leaving me hanging.”
Fingers gliding over the mouse pad, Bastian shook his head with a grin. “You’ll adapt. Besides, in two weeks, I’m out of here anyway.”
“And that, too. You’re abandoning me here. Mark my words, you’ll get bored in a month.”
Bastian’s scoff was loud. The urgent care facility, a combination of doctors’ offices and emergency care, was his idea of perfect. Not the steady doldrums of nine to five but without all the hassles of emergency medicine. Major trauma would always go to the ER. But the UC would be the stop for those who needed help after business hours, but not life-threatening aid. High fevers, stitches in busted lips, a housewife’s accidental run-in with a paring knife. Diverse enough to engage his mind, calm enough to breathe. The thought of having people look to him as their doctor for more than a few hours appealed. He wanted to get to know his patients more, identify them by more than their injury. The UC offered him a chance to be a regular doctor without wasting his training.
“No way. No more twelve-hour shifts that bleed into fifteen. No overnights. No schedules from hell. No more getting slammed on Friday nights when the bars close. No more fighting for lab reports or Radiology slots. Only on call one weekend a month, home every night by midnight, and I get to have regular practice hours twice a week. Real patients, Rav, the ones you see more than once.”
“Like I said, boring.”
His eyes slid to his eager friend. Rav Bushani had more energy than ten Energizer Bunnies. If he wasn’t chasing nurses, he was a damn fine doctor. If he wasn’t doctoring, he was a damn fine flirt. “Why don’t you move to a bigger city? Then you’ll never get bored.”
Rav held out his hands. “What? And leave all this? Never.” Sparkling white teeth shone against his dark skin before he pointed to the computer screen. “So what’s the general public have to offer in your quest for the luscious Ms. Honey’s hand in matrimonial bliss?”
“Some very strange ideas.” Bastian blew out a sigh. The plan seemed like a good one but despite the influx of advice, little was of any real use. “One woman suggested I just kidnap her, take her to the mountains and have my wicked way with her, destroying her reputation. She obviously doesn’t know Charlie at all.”
“Hey, wicked ways are always a winner with me.” Rav laughed, pointing to the screen. “What’s that one marked ‘super hot’?”
“That was directed at Charlie in her endeavors to seduce me. Let’s just say it involves handcuffs and hot wax. And I’m deleting that sucker before she sees it.”
“Why? Could be fun.”
Bastian spent a few minutes reading more suggestions, growing more frustrated by the minute. Although most were nice and romantic suggestions, they weren’t right. Nothing stood out as saying “you are my everything.” There were a few that made him grimace, a few to Charlie that made him blush and still others that made his stomach lurch in revulsion. Those he deleted, feeling dirty. People were twisted.
The base station sitting on the counter toned twice and a hurried voice hailed the ER. Both Bastian and Rav swiveled their heads, as if looking at the speaker could relay the ambulance information faster. Overshadowing the deep voice were the high-pitched screams of a child in the background.
Rav punched a button. “Medic forty-sixty-two, go ahead.”
“Inbound with ETA of eight, black male, approximately two years of age, victim of a fall from second-story window. No signs of obvious head trauma, no abdominal rigidity, pupils reactive. Kid’s lungs are fine, too, as you hear. Compound fracture left femur and…”
Something in Bastian’s gut went cold. A roaring in his ears blocked out the rest of the patient’s vitals. He had more pediatric training than Rav did but treating kids always came with an ache he couldn’t shrug off for hours. He couldn’t always avoid it but if he could pass off the pediatric cases, he did.
“You’re up. End your boredom.”
Rav’s dark head dipped once as he listened. He rattled off a few instructions, a drug cocktail and signed off before turning to Bastian with a grin. “Well, things are looking up.”
“You are one sick bastard, Rav.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. Now go get ready and let me read.”
Rav scurried into Trauma Two, and Bastian forced his mind back to his laptop. He buried himself, sifting through words of wisdom delivered via email.
One suggestion made his heart still. So simple, it reeked of purity and innocence, everything he wanted to lay at Charlie’s feet. A stunned whisper slipped out. “Bingo.”
Rav leaned over the counter and tried to read upside down. “What? Share, entertain me, I got a few minutes.”
“Uh-uh. This is too good to share.” Bastian moved the email to his private address, hit reply and zipped out a message before looking to his friend. Ideas fired in his brain like a machine gun. A broad grin curved his lip. “Handle your patient, then I have plans for you.”
Rav eyed him warily. “Why don’t I like that look?”
“Mad at me still?”
Charlie propped the phone between her shoulder and cheek while fumbling with her wallet. A vapid-looking salesclerk handed her the bagged purchase
before turning her skinny back to the counter.
“If I say yes, will you give me makeup sex?”
“No.” Soft laughter filled her with sunshine before she exited the store. Bastian’s voice needed to be registered as a deadly weapon.
“You will pay, just be warned. In fact, I’m working on your downfall right now.”
“Oh really? Where are you?”
“The Pleasure Palace.”
Just the mention of the adult store made his breath catch, audible even through the scratchy cell coverage. “You are bad.”
“You should know this by now.” Growing heat smacked her face as she stepped into the blinding sun. “Did you get Nathan’s email?”
“Yeah, I read it. He’s a shit, ignore him.”
“He’s just angry he didn’t think of it. He wants to see us both in the morning when I get off. You can make it, right?”
“I’ll try, no promises though. I’m not going to listen to him chew us out, screw that.”
“Well, I have to take it. I need this job until I get a bite on one of the résumés I sent out.”
The line buzzed with empty static and then he sighed. “I know. I’ll be good. But Nathan irritates me. I don’t like how he uses you.”
Charlie deflected the often-heard complaint. “I have to admit, as angry as I was at you, your little stunt made waves. Tomorrow’s show is going to be wild.”
“I don’t care about the show, not like that. I’m not playing. I meant every word. And you’re not the only one working toward a goal. I’ve been a busy little doctor this morning. Don’t make plans for Saturday night, okay?”
“Why?” Something in his tone made her feet slow. He sounded too confident, and a slither of apprehension trickled down her spine. Traffic buzzed around her, the parking lot heavy with the stench of exhaust and fast food. Frozen in the heat, her body absorbed the sizzle of the blacktop. She hated surprises. It was why she snooped for birthday gifts and peeled the corners off Christmas wrapping. She didn’t want to think about Bastian being the only person who managed to hide surprises from her.
“Not telling.” Rich and seductive, his words tingled her nipples through airwaves but his next words shocked her cold. “Do you have a formal gown?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“A gown. You know, long fancy dress, normally worn with a partner choking on a too-tight bow tie.”
“How formal? What are you up to? Why would I need a gown in this town?”
“Black tie formal, who said we were staying in town and you’ll find out Saturday. Now, tell me what you bought.”
The release of the car door popped loudly and she tossed the small paper bag onto the passenger seat. “Ever had a full-body sensual massage, Bastian, and I mean full body? And what’s your opinion on edible body paint?”
A passing eighteen-wheeler almost drowned out his low groan, carving her mouth into an anticipatory smirk. The Pleasure Palace had given her a slew of ideas but most were just window dressing. She knew Bastian well. He was a visual learner. She was going to show him how naughty she could be and teach him a few new tricks.
Before she could say more, she heard his name being paged in the background and let him disconnect without fanfare. He took time to tell her he loved her before the line closed. Staring at the now-darkened cell screen, she felt a wrinkle forming in her brow. The interior of the car had a dry cracking heat that sucked the energy from her marrow. Snapping the air on, she let the car idle as she stowed the phone in her purse.
He was serious. Bastian loved her. Although she’d known it on a platonic level, the whole man-woman thing disconcerted her. Back when they first met, she’d been bummed to discover he was married. The closer they became, the more he sought her out, the more wary she grew.
Discontented unavailable men gravitated toward her like moths to a bug light. She wanted no strings, expected none, would accept none. She was the perfect “other woman.” They wrongly counted on her not minding the pale line from removed rings. Even if they didn’t respect their wedding vows, she did.
Bastian had seemed to be just another man in the pattern, testing the waters, waiting to approach her with a sob story and plea for comfort. He’d been at her kitchen table, elbows on his knees, bitching about nothing when she cracked. She liked him, damn it. Waiting on him to make a move and end this charade of a budding friendship grated on her like glass. She took the reins and gave him just enough rope to hang himself.
Naked beneath her satin robe, she stood and pressed her fingers to his mouth. His words halted and his eyes closed. Her fingers ran through his hair, down his jaw. When he didn’t reach for her, she point-blank asked him if he wanted sex.
He pulled her hand away but held it. “Charlie, please don’t. I like you. But not like that. I just want to be your friend.”
Her impromptu test had bitten her in the ass. He hadn’t been playing games or struggling with his fidelity decisions. He really hadn’t wanted more. He’d just wanted to get to know her for her. It was his greatest gift to her. From that minute on, she’d given him more trust, more of herself, than any person alive.
Charlie drove on automatic, not seeing the cars and shoppers, ignoring the flux of people out enjoying the warmth of awakening summer. Her mind was filled with self-examination.
At the age of thirteen, when she sprouted boobs and hips, she’d become the target of masculine attention. Her mother had been far too busy with her own love life to notice her daughter’s burgeoning sexuality, so Charlie had learned from those who showered her with attention. She’d given her heart, and her favors, far too early to understand the emotional consequences. When she finally understood what power she had, Charlie had become more discriminating and, apparently, more desirable. The more she valued herself, the more men wanted her. But none wanted more than her body…until Bastian. He had only wanted her friendship.
Dismayed to find her eyes wet, Charlie took a deep breath of stale blowing air. She prided herself on honesty. She called a spade a spade and didn’t do what she didn’t want to do. But if she was honest with herself, she had to admit the bad with the good. She was a living, breathing, sexual dynamo who luxuriated in the minute.
Bastian was Ward Cleaver in modern times. Charlie’s idea of a pearl necklace was nowhere near June Cleaver’s. He made no secret he wanted the picket fence, the dog and the quiet Sundays with roast turkey. Discovering his sterility had knocked his organized, preplanned, black-and-white world for a triple loop. There would be no two point five children playing on that mowed-every-Saturday-morning lawn.
Maybe she’d come into his life when he was wondering where his place was now. Maybe he’d come into hers when she was weak from yet another short-term cold breakup. Maybe they’d connected at just the right minute to matter to each other more than acquaintances. She’d been in love with him for years, a secret she could only now admit. He’d known her better than she’d known herself. Charlie had no idea when his feelings changed, had noticed nothing different in his actions. But what he wanted from her now terrified her.
Forever wasn’t in her vocabulary when it came to men. Sex was sex and love was fleeting. Bastian was constant.
How could she survive being even closer to him and then letting him go when forever faded?
Chapter Five
“Hi, Eddy. Know where Charlie disappeared to?”
Charlie’s mother unfolded her still-youthful frame from her squat around the flower bed and shaded her eyes, looking toward the fence line. Bastian followed her gaze to Charlie’s renovated apartment over the huge garage.
“I gave up keeping track of that girl years ago. I figured she was at your place.”
“Maybe. She didn’t answer the phone but she could be asleep. Thanks.” He started to climb back into the driver’s side.
“Heard the show last night. So you want to marry her, uh?”
His body halted before his heart so the slam into his chest momentarily stunne
d him. Eddy wasn’t the most traditional of mothers but Bastian supposed a marriage proposal made one feel maternal. If she’d been any other parent, he might have felt strange about her hearing her daughter’s blatant declaration to seduce him. But this was Eddy.
He closed the vehicle door and ventured closer to the petunias. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“I love her, Eddy.”
The look the older woman fixed on him was so Charlie-like his throat clenched, like she was reading his soul whether he liked it or not. Edna Pierce-plus-a-half-dozen-other-last names showed him a harder vision of what Charlie might look like sixteen years in the future. Fast living with lean times had carved experience into her face, but she was still a stunning woman. Her longish black ponytail only bore the dusting of silver, and her eyes sparkled bright blue. Skin abused by sun and alcohol for too long bore faint age spots and a few deeper wrinkles, but Bastian thought they gave her character. Eddy was nothing if not a character.
Dirt-caked gloves hit the ground and she waved him inside the small Cape Cod house. Wondering why he felt like a teenager, Bastian followed her through the laundry room into the kitschy kitchen. Mushrooms and ladybugs overpowered the small room, the scent of bleach still clinging in the air. He’d tried to imagine Charlie living here several times and never managed. She was too smooth, too basic for clutter.
He settled at the table, accepted a soda bottle and waited on the grilling he assumed would proceed. Like her daughter, Eddy surprised him.
“What did you ask for on your tenth birthday?”
“I have no idea.”
“Think.” The older woman crossed her arms, a smudge of dirt along her elbow.
“I remember wanting a chemistry set so I could try to blow things up.”
A huskier laugh than he was used to made him grin. “Sounds like a boy. Know what Charlie wanted?” He shook his head. “A red mailbox with white-painted daisies.”
