by Leanne Davis
Roy rushed over to the sink, quickly running water over it. “What are you doing? You’ll set the sprinklers off.”
Roy glared at Spencer and his eyebrows furrowed in visible anger. At least, he wasn’t looking through Spencer anymore.
“Proving a point,” Spencer said, without looking at Roy. He was still staring at Erica, who was trapped by his deeply, powerful eye lock. She finally dropped her gaze and got his point. Fuck them. Burn it. Screw it. She wasn’t a baby killer. She got it. Roy didn’t. She looked up again, and felt Spencer’s eyes burning into her: dark, smoldering, and very serious. “Point taken, Doc?” he asked softly.
Erica nodded her head in a jerky yes as she straightened her spine and stood up. She gathered strength from Spencer’s cut-and-dried actions in her defense. If he felt that sure of her, and what and who she was, then she could be that sure of herself, her practice, and her morals. “Yes, point taken.”
Spencer turned to leave without another word. His back was rigid and his smirk insolent as he glanced from her to Roy. She cringed at what he must think of her choice of boyfriend.
Erica was left alone with Roy, who was quiet for a moment. Then he came closer to her. “Who is that?”
“Spencer? He works here, doing maintenance for the building.”
“Yes, I know his job title. But who is he? What is he to you? That was no handyman addressing you then. That was a man telling a woman what he thought of her.”
Erica turned away to hide the warm rush that was flooding her cheeks. As if Spencer even thought she had a vagina! He detested her and everything she stood for. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, I think you do. You’re the smartest woman I ever met, so act like it.”
“Spencer is a friend of Joelle’s. I’ve known him for a few years.”
“Oh.” Roy frowned, then asked, “Like a friend of a friend?”
“Yes,” Erica said, but no. In no way, could she call Spencer her friend.
“Seemed like he was a bit too interested in this protest today.”
Perhaps Roy wasn’t showing enough interest in the nearly disastrous, career-altering protest. The distressing, insulting, and harmful incident that refuted her good will as a doctor, as well as a human being. Maybe her boyfriend wasn’t upset enough on her behalf.
“Maybe your handyman has a crush on you.”
Erica laughed out loud. “Spencer having a crush on me? No way. He hardly tolerates me as his boss. I’m like the authority he loves to rebel against and hate.”
“He seemed to take that pamphlet rather personally.”
“He was present when I had trouble with that particular preacher before.”
Roy looked down at his feet, and glanced back her with a smile pursing his lips. “I guess I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I? The handyman, for Christ’s sake! Yeah, right.”
“Yeah, right,” Erica echoed. She was not listening, but thinking of the pamphlet, feeling sick to her stomach, and wondering how many people saw it. What did they think of it? Of her? Of her as a doctor? More importantly, what exactly did Spencer do to get the preacher off her front steps? Whatever it was, she was eternally grateful that he took the risk and felt enough loyalty towards her to take such a stand.
What might this preacher do next to discredit her?
Why didn’t her boyfriend get upset over a direct attack on her as a human being? As well as a doctor? Why did her handyman go out there, but not Roy? Spencer easily took over even though he hardly liked her.
“Let’s just go to dinner,” Erica finally said quietly. Confused. Tired. Her gut churning in knots. And not knowing how else to get rid of Roy.
“And after? Your place?”
Erica shrugged. How could Roy even suggest after what happened that she would like him to come over to her place? How could Roy not get that after being called a baby killer, she might not feel like having sex? Good God. It seemed so obvious. “Not tonight.”
When would she feel like it again? She hadn’t felt like it in a long time. Not with Roy. Not with anyone, it seemed. Maybe not for years.
****
The next few weeks were quiet and she encountered no more problems from the preacher, although there were a few comments from those who saw the pamphlet. She tried to go about her work, her practice, and her life, as if it hadn’t shaken her to the core. Which it had. She couldn’t understand why she was targeted. So hatefully targeted. It wasn’t just a protest against her, but an attempt to sully her entire reputation. That pamphlet could have ruined her practice.
She still saw Roy, but less than before. After his failure to do anything about the horrible pamphlet on her behalf, she was pretty sure things weren’t going to improve for them.
She was in the last few weeks of preparing for a charity dinner and dance of which she was the chairperson. The clinic was only one of several sponsors who donated both time and money to the dinner, and its purpose to raise research money for breast cancer.
The theme this year was “Winter in Summer” and each plate cost one thousand dollars. It attracted all the Nick Lassiters of the area, and was something she firmly believed in because it was part of her life and her practice. She dealt with breast cancer regularly with patients. She handled the screening, first diagnosis, and treatment of it, as well as death from it. She removed women’s breasts, and even replaced them. She was at the forefront of the breast cancer battle and this particular event was far more than an evening out to her. It was her cause. It was a symbol of what she dedicated her time, as well as her life, to preventing.
It was also a nice change from her days at the office. It was more fun than most of her work, and she was excited to see how it all came together.
Then she got the news that the band they booked ditched her. They said they were double-booked, and chose the larger venue, leaving her in the lurch. She didn’t have enough time to find another band so soon before the event. Joelle, who helped Erica create the tables’ centerpieces, overheard Erica on the phone.
“What am I going to do?” Erica said as she sat down dejectedly.
“You’re going to call Spencer. He and Rob can do this. They can play anything.”
“Your ex-husband, Rob?”
“Sure. He’s the best.”
“What about Nick?”
“What about Nick? Nick can deal with Rob. Besides, Spencer could use the boost. He hasn’t played seriously in much too long. I think it would help him.”
“Why doesn’t he just play for fun?”
Joelle’s eyebrows quirked enigmatically. “Does anything about Spencer strike you as fun? Anyway, just call them.”
She did, but no one answered. She began to pace. At least, it was an idea and the only one she had. She didn’t know what else to do. Dancing to a live band was advertised on all the event’s pamphlets and flyers. She couldn’t manufacture a band from thin air, or tell all the paying dinner guests the dance portion of the evening was cancelled.
“Maybe I’ll just go there.”
Joelle looked up from the fake flowers she was arranging. “I’d go with you, but I promised the baby sitter I’d get back right about now.”
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You should. They really are unbelievable, despite Zenith breaking up.”
“Thanks for the idea.”
Erica wondered if it really was such a hot idea, now that she was standing on the street before Spencer’s house. It was nearly nine o’clock already. God, this couldn’t go over well, but she was so desperate to get a band, she felt like she couldn’t relax until she found one. She called their phone number again, as well as the cell phone numbers Joelle gave her, but nothing. She could leave a note on the door, or a message on their voicemails. Spencer would, no doubt, talk to her tomorrow.
Erica got out of her car and walked to the front door before knocking. She was surprised when she heard movement from inside. The entire house was dark. What the hell? There was definitely
movement and soft murmuring. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes, the door opened.
Spencer answered, dressed only in jeans that were zipped, with the top button undone. He was barefoot and shirtless, so his long torso was exposed: rippled abs, wide shoulders, and lean, but muscular arms. He was gorgeous, stunningly, eye-widening gorgeous. She was speechless and stared open-mouthed, in awe, at his chest. Finally shaking herself back to the present, she managed to raise her eyes to his.
As she did, her face grew warm and it suddenly occurred to her, albeit belatedly, why the house was so dark, the phones weren’t being answered, Spencer was half-naked, and taking forever to answer the door with his jeans partially undone. He wasn’t alone.
She attempted to speak, but couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Spencer, meanwhile, looked her over, and his eyebrows rose. “What are you doing here?”
“I called. Earlier. I needed to talk to you… but it can wait. Until later. Tomorrow. Goodbye.” She turned away, fully intending to leave.
Then she heard the giggle, a giggle she recognized. She froze and turned back around. There, behind Spencer, was Tamira, her bookkeeper, wearing, God, worse than nothing. She was dressed in fake leather lingerie. She had on a pleather corset, a black thong, fishnet black stockings, and spiked, thigh-high boots. She stopped abruptly the moment she saw Erica’s horrified stare through the front door. The flirtatious smile died on her lips and she gaped at Erica as Erica did her.
“Dr. Heathersby? What are you doing here?” Tamira asked, glancing down at herself, then back up at Erica. She turned and fled just as she seemed to remember what she was wearing.
Spencer, meanwhile, glanced over his shoulder, and looked back at Erica, his face blank. Cold. Erica shut her mouth. No apology or awkwardness on Spencer’s end of the conversation.
She turned to leave, and stepped down onto the porch, but stopped dead when a hand gripped her wrist. Turning back again, Spencer was out of the house, and holding her back. He let go as soon as her eyes met his.
“Why are you here, Doc? Certainly not to check up on me.” Arms crossed over his chest, he looked down at her expectantly. His abs flexed and her mouth went dry. Damn her stupid, wandering eyes.
“I need your help.”
“Mine?” His eyes widened. “With what?”
“I was hoping you could play for me.”
“Excuse me?” His expression went from cold and annoyed to genuine astonishment. She surprised him, for once. Well, maybe not as much as her glimpsing his sexual escapades with her bookkeeper, but surprised nevertheless.
“The piano. I know it’s a lot to ask, and Zenith, isn’t together anymore. But I’m on the committee of this huge fundraiser for cancer research, and the band I booked just backed out about an hour ago. The event is two weeks from Saturday. I don’t know of any other band I could book on such short notice. Joelle said I should ask you, and Rob.”
Silence followed her announcement and she shifted her feet. Why couldn’t he react to anything? Why didn’t he even blush at her finding Tamira there? And dressed as she was? Or… well, why didn’t he seem to care at all what she thought?
“You could have called me.”
“I did. But no one answered.”
He frowned and considered her statement, then slowly smiled, as if remembering why he didn’t answer the phone. “No. I guess I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You could have left a message. I’d have called you back.”
Erica nodded. She wished she’d been smart, and practical as usual, rather than driving to this man’s house, and interrupting that. “I think we can agree that I should have. I was… just so anxious to get another band. This fundraiser is very important. It brings in a lot of money. I can’t screw it up.”
“I don’t see how we can play for you. We haven’t been together in over a year. Rob’s not going to agree to do it.”
“But you would?”
“That depends… What kind of crowd? What kind of music?”
She bit her lip. “I guess a crowd of people like me. What does that tell you?”
He smirked at her. “A lot. It tells me they won’t like what I play.”
“Can’t you play anything? Joelle said you could! Why couldn’t you do that for one night? It’s not like a career. It’s one night for charity. I don’t care what you play, if it’s appropriate.”
He regarded her, and frowned. “You honestly expect me to come up with something ‘appropriate’?”
“Yes,” she said with complete honesty. For some reason, she knew in her gut if Spencer agreed to help her, he would not betray her trust. She didn’t know why she knew that, but she did. Spencer might be a lot of things, but when he gave his word, he kept it. She swallowed and said quietly, “I trust you on that, Spencer.”
“Yeah? You realize I’m the one who came up with Spike. Not exactly appropriate then, was I?”
“But you’re Spencer now. The only one who doesn’t seem to realize that is you.”
He lowered his eyebrows. She bit her lip. He didn’t like her comment, or anything sounding personal between them. But… she was in a bind. And she was here. And suddenly, strangely, she wanted him to do her a personal favor. “Please?”
His eyes narrowed on her. He always looked at her so intently and rarely looked away. He didn’t allow the normal personal space that other people gave her. It seemed like he was trying to penetrate her comfort zone and make her ill at ease. “This is important to you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Interrupting something I never wanted to know about.”
His jaw clenched, but he seemed unperturbed at his state of undress, and the pleather-clad woman in his house. None of it seemed to bother him. The only thing that offended Spencer was her asking him to do his former job. His real job. Playing music.
“All right, Doc, I’ll talk to Rob. I can’t even tell you there’s a good chance it will happen. I mean, it’s just two weeks away. I don’t see that happening.”
“Just do whatever you can.”
He dropped his arms; and it took all her will power not to stare at his naked chest, or his sculpted arms. She concentrated on fastening her eyes entirely on his.
“You’ll owe me for this. I don’t do stuff like that. I don’t play for charities that prey on rich people.”
She nodded, her eagerness nearly making her feel giddy. “Thank you. You don’t have a clue how much this means to me.”
“No promises. I said I’ll try to come up with something.”
She nodded vigorously, purposely ignoring his warning. “I’ll make this up to you.”
He shook his head and stepped back towards the front door, and the imminent sex with Tamira that she obviously interrupted. She hated thinking about that.
“Hey, Spencer?” she called just as he was about to shut the front door. He cracked it open.
“What?”
“She’s barely twenty, you know. She still lives with her parents.”
“Who?”
“Tamira,” Erica replied to his surly tone. “You know, my bookkeeper.”
He smiled. “I didn’t know. Don’t care. Thanks though, for worrying about me.”
“It’s not you I was worried about. She’s young and very naive. Just be careful. Besides, this can’t go on at the office. It’s too small an office.”
“Oh, really? Just you and Dr. Roy get it on at the office then? Your staff doesn’t get those perks?”
“We were not doing anything! We merely went out to dinner. Jesus, it’s not like I was dressed in pleather and heels.”
“You should try it some time. Might pull the stick out of Dr. Roy’s uptight ass.”
Erica thought he was implying the stick was really up her ass. “Oh, for God’s sake, grow up. This, the whole inter-office stuff can really end badly.”
“This is my house, and anything can go on here. You don’t get a say here. ‘Night, Doc.”
He shut the door in her face and she stared at it in total surprise. Then anger. She turned and headed for her car, her cheeks warming with indignance and fury. But mostly, embarrassment. What did she expect? That Spencer would actually care that the girl was young and naive?
And since when did she care what her staff did outside the office? She just never expected Tamira to be here, of all places. She didn’t anticipate having the opportunity to capture a glimpse of Spencer’s private life. And now, knowing the little that she knew about him, she wished desperately she hadn’t.
****
Spencer thumped the door in anger that was clearly out of proportion with what Erica asked of him and their conversation. But God! She knew nothing. Saw nothing. She showed up out of nowhere, unannounced, and believed she understood what he was doing, and who he was. She even believed she had the right to ask him to play music he no longer played. And instead of sending her packing, as he wanted, he couldn’t. Because it was important to her, and he could see the urgency in her eyes. The, please Spencer, and those green eyes that he could not turn away from. Or refuse. So, that made it his problem. Damn it. What was it about her that always got to him? The tilt of her head? The disappointment in her eyes when she realized who was in his house? Why should he care if she didn’t like what she saw? Why did finding her on his doorstep, dressed in one of her trim, professional, conservative, business suits, with her hair pulled back in a tidy clip, and her glasses perched on her straight, perfect nose, do things to him? Things that even Tamira couldn’t do for him as yet.
Tamira came out of the kitchen.
“What was she doing here?” The she was enunciated with a high-pitched squeal.
“Needed a favor.”
“What?”
“I mess around on the piano sometimes. She wanted me to play somewhere.”
“Oh. That’s nice. Are you any good?”
He shrugged, moving past Tamira, and down the hall, barely listening when Tamira started talking about some friend of hers who played the drums. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and popped the top.
Who did Erica Heathersby think she was to lecture him about what he did in his own house? Wasn’t her prick boyfriend rubbing his hands all over her ass in the office, with the door open? Didn’t Spencer walk in on that? And not like it? But did he say anything to Erica? No. He said nothing. And she… what? Thought she could suggest he was some kind of deviant because Tamira wanted to fuck him? Tamira volunteered, and nearly begged to come home with him.
