What She Really Wants For Christmas

by Rawlins, Debbi

“Fine.”

  The woman sized her up. “Been here before, honey?”

  “Nope. I’m a virgin.”

  The younger woman’s throaty laugh sounded like a two-pack-a-day habit. “I’ll bring a menu then check back with you later, Doc.”

  Liza watched the waitress go to an old refrigerator in the corner and take out five beers that she loaded on a tray. “How did you find this place?”

  “I’ve been coming here for years. By the way, they have wine and soda if you prefer.”

  “No, beer is good.” She tipped the cold bottle to her lips.

  “If you want a glass you have to ask for it. The glass will be clean, the look will be dirty. They’re big on low maintenance.”

  “Amen to that.”

  He reached across the table and touched his fingertips to hers. “Why don’t you come around and sit on this side with me?”

  She gave him a teasing grin. “Then how can I gaze into your eyes?”

  “I’ll give you something else to gaze at.”

  “Ooh, I like it when you’re naughty.”

  “You want to see naughty? Get your sweet little backside over here.”

  “I dare you.”

  “You won’t know until you get over here.”

  Liza laughed. She wasn’t so sure he wasn’t serious. The more she saw of Evan, the more she believed she truly didn’t know this man. That wasn’t totally true. She knew the important stuff. That he was kind and patient and understanding, and that he had a great sense of humor. But there was this other side to him, a side that contradicted the doctor image.

  Maybe it was her own biased opinion of the type of person she thought would become a doctor. The kind of student in college who practically lived in labs and libraries, while she’d been hitting every party and club that would overlook her lousy fake ID. If a guy rode in on a bike, Harleys being her favorite, the odds were three-to-one she’d be riding home with him. She’d liked them rough and tough, screw the guys that cultivated their sensitive sides and wanted to explore their feelings.

  “What do you think of the music?” Evan asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  “They’re good. Just my kind of music.” She smiled at him, got up and went around to his side. “Move.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He slid over but didn’t leave her all that much room.

  She reached across the table for her forgotten beer and then slid in beside him, pressing her thigh to his. She gave him a nudge with her hip, and he surprised her by picking up her hand and kissing the back of it.

  “It’s okay that I sit on the outside then?” she asked, liking that he held on to her hand.

  He frowned slightly. “Now that you mention it…”

  “I’m not moving.”

  “Good,” he whispered, his gaze on her lips.

  She thought he was going to kiss her, but then the band stopped playing and he looked toward the stage. She turned, too, but all she saw was the band members putting down their instruments.

  The long-haired drummer left the stage and headed toward them. He slid onto the bench she’d vacated, glanced at her and then said to Evan, “About time you got here, bro.”

  “Liza, this is Eric.”

  “I’ve heard about you,” Eric said before she had a chance to say anything. “Glad you could make it. Sorry I’m gonna have to steal your date.” He turned back to Evan. “I need you for about an hour.”

  “Forget it.”

  Liza finally remembered who Eric was—he was Evan’s brother. Even if she didn’t know, the melting brown eyes gave it away. But there, any similarity ended. Eric was taller and lankier and hadn’t picked up a razor in at least a week. His jeans were torn and his Grateful Dead T-shirt was a size too small, although it showed off surprisingly hunky biceps. Back in the day, if Liza had met him at a party she’d have been all over him.

  “Come on,” Eric said, and then took a sip of Evan’s beer. “Just until Tony gets here. You know I’m not so hot on the drums.”

  A blonde wearing black leather came up behind him and slid her arms around his neck, her fake platinum-blond hair spilling over his shoulders. She lowered her red lips close to his ear. “You sounded good to me.”

  Eric didn’t look thrilled. “I’m talking to someone here.”

  “Can’t I sit with you during the break?” she asked and snuggled up beside him before he could answer.

  “Later, Stephanie.”

  She sighed. “It’s Melanie.” Then she got up and wandered over to the bass guitarist.

  The scene made Liza’s stomach turn. God, had she ever been that bad? No, she had more pride than that. Except when it had come to Rick.

  “Liza,” Eric said, “mind loaning him out for an hour?”

  Evan exhaled sharply. “What part of no don’t you get?”

  Liza looked from Evan to his brother. “What’s this about, anyway?”

  Eric grinned at his brother. “Don’t you wanna see the best drummer in Atlanta bring down the house?”

  Chapter 9

  Liza turned and stared at Evan. “You play the drums?”

  He actually looked embarrassed. “Not really. A little bit.”

  Eric had just gotten a beer from the waitress. Chuckling, he uncapped it. “Damn near put himself through medical school playing the drums.”

  She blinked at him. “You did?”

  “I was in a band.” He shrugged. “We mostly played on weekends. I still worked a research job a couple of times a week.”

  “Would I know the name of the band?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Tell me.”

  He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “Messed Up.”

  She laughed. “Interesting.”

  “I was twenty.”

  “He could’ve stayed in the biz if he wanted and made some real dough,” Eric said before taking another long pull.

  “Yeah, unlike practicing medicine,” Evan said dryly.

  “I’m just saying. Everybody wanted you.”

  “Go play,” Liza said suddenly.

  He shook his head. “I want to have some dinner, then—”

  “Come on,” she said, putting a hand on his thigh and squeezing gently. “I really want to hear you play.”

  Evan’s brows went up in warning.

  Eric grinned. “Better go practice a few minutes. We’re back on in fifteen.”

  Evan rose and shrugged out of his jacket. Liza took it from him and carefully laid it across her lap. “Even if Tony doesn’t show up, I’m done after the set,” he said, rolling back his sleeves two turns. “Got it?”

  “Got it.” Eric winked at Liza and then they watched him head to the stage. “I knew he wouldn’t let me down.”

  Liza smiled at the fondness in Eric’s voice. Must be nice to have a brother to depend on. “Where do you fall in the Gann pecking order?”

  “In the middle. We have a younger brother. Elton’s in his second year of law school.”

  “Wow. Talented trio.”

  He smiled, and she saw that was something else he shared with Evan. “I have a degree in English lit myself, but I never got around to using it.”

  “You Gann boys sure do surprise me.”

  “Yeah, wait until you hear my boy up there play. He’s gonna blow your skirt up.”

  Again, the fondness in his voice and gaze tugged at Liza’s heart. Envy wormed its way in there. She couldn’t lose the petty feeling, even knowing that it was just as well her parents hadn’t had any more kids to suffer their cruel indifference.

  One of the other guys from the band motioned for Eric and he excused himself. She didn’t mind sitting alone. She liked being able to watch Evan undisturbed. He was the only one of the group wearing short hair and a shirt that hadn’t gone through one too many washings. Even though he looked out of place it didn’t seem to bother him. She admired his confidence.

  Eric produced another guitar, while a shorter, stockier guy tuned his bass. The singer,
his sandy-blond hair nearly down to his waist, practiced his cocky smile on a bevy of big-busted groupies before joining the rest of the band.

  A few minutes later when the set started with Miami Sound Machine’s “Conga” she understood the reason for Evan’s self-assurance. The guy was totally awesome. He was like a different person up there. The way he moved with incredible rhythm, the way he really got into the song, his expression a reflection of the lyrics.

  She’d always loved music, mostly classic rock, but she wasn’t a connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination. She just knew what she liked. And what Evan was doing up there…well, that certainly tipped the like scale.

  If this whole evening had been orchestrated to turn her on, the attempt was a rousing success. By the fourth song, she had a good mind to yank him off that stage and drag him back to his house. When he did a solo, she just about melted into the bench. In fact, the hour seemed to go by exceedingly fast and when the last song for the set was announced, she wasn’t sure if that made her happy or disappointed.

  “You were fantastic,” she said as soon as he joined her again. “How did you learn to play like that?”

  “I got my first set of drums for my ninth birthday.”

  “And your parents didn’t go crazy?”

  “The rule was that I played only in the garage. I don’t think my parents liked the neighbors on our left.”

  She smiled. “Tell the truth, were they sorry they bought them for you?”

  “Not in the least. Come on, let’s get some ribs.” He signaled the waitress. “I worked up one hell of an appetite.”

  A few people stopped by the table to tell him how much they enjoyed his performance, and although he thanked them politely, he subtly let them know that he didn’t want to chat. That all he wanted was to be with Liza. The warmth that spread throughout her chest and down through her belly ended quite predictably. But she doubted he’d want to skip dinner a third time.

  The waitress came for their order and Evan explained that there were only two items—ribs or chicken, and each came with a choice of potato salad, baked beans or fries. Coleslaw, corn bread and pickles came whether you wanted them or not. With a snort, the waitress reminded him that a few people tried to talk her out of a couple of extra dill pickles from time to time. He gave her a smile that could melt butter, and she giggled like a schoolgirl.

  After she left, Liza elbowed him in the ribs.

  Evan jerked. “What’s that for?”

  “You charmer.”

  “You mean Colleen?” He glanced at the waitress who’d stopped at the next table. “She’s a good kid.”

  “Kid?”

  “She’s still in college. To me that’s a kid.”

  “You are old.”

  “Okay, I admit it.”

  “But not where it counts,” she said, rubbing her hand against his thigh, her fingers close enough to the mother lode to make him smile.

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “I’ve always been a sucker for a drummer.”

  “Wish you’d told me earlier.” He placed a restraining hand over hers when she got too bold.

  Laughing, Liza withdrew. “I’m glad I met your brother.”

  “He’s a good guy. So is the youngest one. Very smart. He has a bright future.”

  “Elton.”

  He looked at her. “You and Eric talked, I see.”

  “Some.”

  “What else did he tell you?”

  She shrugged, curious at his intense reaction. Did he think Eric gave away family secrets? “Nothing, really. Only that Elton was in law school. Is anything wrong?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Oh, Eric did tell me he was an English lit major, which, I gotta tell you, surprised the hell out of me.”

  Evan smiled. “He surprised all of us. I think he’ll end up teaching. But he’s still young, single, no kids. Might as well do what he wants now.”

  “What about you?”

  He didn’t look at her. Just kept staring straight ahead at the stage, even though the band hadn’t returned from their break. “What about me?”

  “Ever get close to walking down the aisle?”

  He didn’t answer at first and she was beginning to think he wouldn’t when he said, “Once.”

  “When was that?”

  “Right after med school.” He got distracted by something and craned his neck toward the patio door. “Good. There’s Tony. He’s their regular drummer.”

  A nicer person would drop the subject. “Were you actually engaged?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened, or do you want me to shut up?”

  He stayed silent for a moment, and by the way his mouth and jaw tightened she could tell it wasn’t an easy thing to talk about.

  “Don’t say a word. Forget I asked.”

  “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and it’s certainly not as if I’m still in love with her. Any feelings I had for Angela died the moment I walked in on her and one of our friends in my bed.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, at the time.”

  Liza didn’t know what to say. She kind of wished she hadn’t asked. Although Evan didn’t seem torn up about it. The original tension she’d detected was gone. His attention went to his brother, who’d just returned to the stage, along with the other guitarist.

  “The funny thing was she still wanted to go on with the wedding,” he said without a trace of bitterness. “She claimed it was just sex, that it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Sometimes it is just about sex,” Liza blurted, and then wanted to kick herself all the way back to Midtown.

  Evan turned to look her in the eye. “But then, you don’t talk marriage.”

  “True.” Liza needed to just keep her big mouth shut. Everything was coming out wrong. Whoever that woman was had to be a complete moron. Evan would make a perfect husband. Not that Liza was in the market. “I didn’t mean—”

  He touched her arm, and then rubbed it with a familiarity that warmed her. Yeah, Angela was totally insane. “It’s okay, Liza. That’s what I admire about you most. You’re up front about what you want. We know exactly where we stand. It is just about sex.”

  She forced a smile. He was right. Absolutely. So why did she suddenly feel so bad?

  * * *

  Evan threw his car keys on the counter, next to the mail his housekeeper had left for him. “Want something to drink?” he asked Liza.

  Before he could turn around, he felt her hands on him. Her breasts pressed against his back, she slid her arms around his waist, and then went for the buckle.

  “Hey, slow down.” He turned to face her, and then intercepted her questing hands.

  “Why?”

  He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. Something was wrong. He just didn’t know what. The ride home had been quiet and he’d half expected her to tell him she’d changed her mind and wanted to be dropped off.

  He smiled. “Dare I say we have all night?”

  She blinked. “Damn.” She walked away, looking restless suddenly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I should have picked up my car.”

  “I’ll take you back to get it anytime you say.”

  She paced the small kitchen. “Maybe I should go get it now.”

  “It’s safe in the station’s parking lot, not as if it’s going to get towed.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t like being stranded.”

  “I’ll try not to take that personally.” He took off his sports jacket and laid it over his arm. “I’m going to go get a fire started in the bedroom. Come talk to me.”

  “Talk, huh?”

  “Do anything you want to me.”

  Liza grinned, looking more like herself again. “Can I tie you up?”

  “That one I have to think about.”

  “Can you see the headlines now?” She skipped a couple of steps ahead and turn
ed to face him, backing her way down the hall. “Famous Atlanta doctor—”

  “You blew it already.”

  “What?”

  “Famous?”

  “Your name is on the credits for Heartbeat. That makes you famous.”

  “Only according to my mother’s bridge group.”

  “Still, it—Ouch.” She backed into the linen closet door where the hall dead-ended. “You could’ve warned me.”

  “And ruin your story?” He motioned for her to precede him into his room on the left.

  She did, but kept an eye on him over her shoulder. “Now, I forgot what I was going to say.”

  “What a shame.” He went into the closet to hang up his jacket.

  “It had something to do with the famous doctor being bound and taken advantage of for hours and hours by some insatiable nymphomaniac.”

  “Isn’t that redundant?”

  “I can change the story.”

  “No, no, I like that part.” He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the wicker hamper.

  She stood, leaning a hip against the door frame, watching him. “Today was the first time I’ve seen you without a tie.”

  “That hurts. That really hurts.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  He grinned. “For the past three years I have rarely worn a tie to the station. A sports jacket, yes. Guess who obviously never gave me a second look?”

  “Guilty.”

  “Make it up to me.”

  The slow curve of her lips said she knew exactly what was on his mind. She pulled off her sweater. Her bra was red and transparent, her nipples already firm. “What about the fire?”

  He kicked off his loafers. They landed somewhere in the back of the closet. “I’ll get to it.”

  One fast flick of the clasp and her bra was gone. She unsnapped her jeans but didn’t unzip them. “If you’re not going to let me tie you up, I should at least get to be the boss.”

  He had a difficult time dragging his gaze away from her perfect breasts. They were small but the way they seemed to tip up really got his attention. “I think you called the shots last time.”

  “You’re complaining?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Come here.” She moved toward him, unzipping her jeans.

  He did the same with his slacks and toed off his socks until all he had on were navy-blue boxers.