by Leanne Davis
Somehow, she managed to release him. They didn’t say a word, but simply walked in sync to the elevators, exiting on the floor of her condo. He made no attempt to explain why he waited for her or what it meant.
Erica set down her bag in the entry of the condo. She looked around, and suddenly felt at a loss of what to do. Nothing had changed. Everything was exactly the same as it was yesterday morning, when she left for work. There was nothing different. Yet, it all felt different to her now. She wasn’t sure if that was because of Spencer, or the tragedy of losing her dear friend. Everything was altered, and she had no idea what to make of that. “Why do you suppose that after ten years of trying, someone gets pregnant, but dies barely a month before she can deliver and see that baby?”
“It was an accident. Nothing more. Nothing preventable. One had nothing to do with the other. Except for how tragic it all is.”
“You have no idea how many tragic events I encounter. How many times I witness it just to wonder why. Why did that happen? How could that happen for no good reason to good people? I hate my job sometimes.”
“But no one deals with it better than you do, right?” he said quietly.
She shook her head. Why was she sharing such intimate thoughts and grief with Spencer? No one knew the darker side of her job. She never shared it. With anyone. Not Nick Lassiter, or Roy Bennett, not even Joelle. She kept all the things she dealt with inside no matter how much it might make her sometimes wish she was not who and what she was. And now, she was telling Spencer Mattox, of all people. The most remote, emotionally vacant man she’d ever known. And she was sharing her private thoughts with him.
Erica questioned whether she was seeing him with new eyes. For someone who seemed to hate all successful people, and concealed his emotions so well, she sometimes believed he didn’t feel anything, Erica wondered why would he come to her aid now?
Her large, airy condo was decorated in soft hues of yellow, green and white. It overlooked a beautiful cityscape that encompassed the distant waters of Puget Sound, as well as the proximal, quiet, quaint little neighborhoods and city blocks, dotted with green swaths of parks. It was an expensive part of town, with clean, tree-canopied streets. She loved it. Or did before she found herself coming home all alone, or with Roy, and feeling frustrated. She didn’t know if her frustration was increasing because of Roy, or her inability to find the one thing that every other couple seemed to have except Erica and the men she dated.
In a fog, she couldn’t make up her mind what to do or even muster the energy to put one foot ahead of the next. She could’ve sunken right into the floor then and there and gone to sleep. She didn’t care how pretty her condo was, or how beautiful the July day. It no longer mattered to her that she was healthy, successful and accomplished.
She was horribly alone. Lonely. Lost. Her friends were all pairing off and moving on. For some reason, Beth’s untimely death seemed to magnify that notion in Erica’s mind. Today, she felt it more than usual, creating a gaping hole in her life.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said absently. Looking around, the tears filled her eyes again.
“Take a shower, eat something, sleep. Seems like that would be a good place to start.”
She eyed Spencer who was standing inside her entryway. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking down at her as usual, silently watching her. Why? What for? What was he doing here? She didn’t get it.
“How can I feel so bad and be so hungry? Anytime I have a surgery, I get so hungry, I feel like I’m starving.”
“Go take a shower.”
“Okay, a shower.”
Trudging towards her bedroom, she peeled off her clothes and stepped under the faucet while it was still cold. That helped. It seemed to slice right through her and shake her awake. She washed her body three times. Then rinsed for fifteen minutes and almost felt better.
A long robe wrapped around her, her wet hair combed back and flat against her skull, she walked towards the kitchen and abruptly stopped. Spencer was at her stove, flipping a grilled cheese sandwich.
He turned when he heard her and his dark eyes ran over her wet hair, makeup-free face, and robe, which outlined the curves of her body. The instant stir of a response she felt surprised her. How could that be possible after last night and all the exhausting tears?
“What are you doing?”
“Making a grilled cheese sandwich. You have a few vegetables in there, and about three packs of sliced cheese. Figured it must be a favorite since you don’t keep much else here.”
He was looking through her fridge and cupboards? Did she want Spencer Mattox here, looking through her personal life? Observing her home and drawing conclusions about her?
Then again, good God! He was cooking for her.
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“So?”
So. Exactly so. She was glad he decided that.
“Is it your favorite?”
“What?”
“Grilled cheese.”
“Oh. Yes, it is.”
He shook his head, and turned away. “Never would have pegged that one.”
“Why? What’s wrong with grilled cheese?”
“Nothing. It’s just so simple, a kid’s menu kind of food. Not exactly a Dr. Erica Heathersby kind of food.”
She studied him before looking intently at her sandwich heating on the pan. “I like a lot of different things, Spencer,” she said quietly, inferring more than just cheese sandwiches. He glanced up at her unusual tone before flipping the sandwich onto a plate. He served it at the two-seat breakfast bar separating her kitchen from the living area.
She sat down, a little surprised at the extent of his services when she saw the coffee was already made and poured. She started to eat, and the hot, gooey cheese melted into her mouth between the plump and perfectly toasted white bread. She didn’t speak until after she finished the entire sandwich.
“You’re much better at this than I am.”
He was on the other side of the bar, leaning against it. “What?”
“Cooking. I can’t cook worth a damn. I usually burn these. Aren’t you going to have one?”
He shook his head.
“Don’t you eat? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you eat.”
“I eat. Whenever. Not really into meals that much.”
“Kind of like you sleep during random hours too?”
“Yeah kind of. Not much of a routine person.”
“Then why are you on time for work every single day without a beat?”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“I gave you my word I’d be there. If I say I’ll do something, I do it.”
She studied him, but he didn’t smile. He was waiting at her car this morning, and now he made her something to eat. What was happening? If yesterday meant nothing, except sex, than why was he here now?
She chewed, swallowed, wiped her mouth, and set the napkin down, all the while staring at him incredulously. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be here. You don’t owe me anything.”
His eyebrows wrinkled. “I know I don’t owe you anything.”
“Then why are you here?”
He shrugged, and shifted his eyes from hers. She stood up before crossing around the counter, and standing before him. Then she stood there, looking up at him. He finally had to look down at her. “I think you know why. That wasn’t just sex we had. I’ve had just sex, and yesterday wasn’t that. Or this. Whatever this is.”
“This is nothing.” Arms over his chest, he was quite clear about letting her know she was not to touch him.
“Nothing? Why can’t you admit you might like me, even a little?”
“I do like you, Doc, every blessed inch of your body.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me?” he frowned. “What’s not to believe? Why wouldn’t I want to have sex with
you?”
“I mean, I think it’s more than that.”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
Then he stepped forward, pulling her up against him, and putting his hands on her waist before dropping the sash on her robe. It fell open in a long line down the front of her body, revealing nothing but a glimpse of flesh: her belly-button, the V between her breasts, and her pale, white hair. His hand went directly to that spot and she nearly cried out, more from surprise than passion. She put her hands on his shoulders for support.
“This is why I’m here,” he said in a quiet voice that faded into her ears. His fingers gently stroked her so lightly, she had to grit her teeth and physically refrain from rubbing herself harder against his hand. His fingers continued to slide along her naked body. She moaned and collapsed against him, despite knowing he was only doing it to prove a point. One that she didn’t want him to make. But damn! He was so quick, and so good, it was hard for her to think at all.
He didn’t kiss her. Or hold her. Or even call her by her name. He had never, in fact, called her by her name and something wasn’t okay about that in her mind. Even if things felt this good.
Her hands slid from his shoulders, down his arm, and encircled his wrist. She stopped his hand. “Kiss me, Spencer.”
He jerked his hand away from hers.
“I want you to kiss me first. I want you to hold me. And acknowledge me.”
“Come on, Doc, I can get you off. Just let me. You’ll feel better.”
“Erica. My name is Erica. Call me by my name. That is what will make me feel better.”
He glared down at her.
“What? Why can’t you call me by my name? Is it because that would mean you’re not just having sex with me? Getting off, as you said?”
“If you’re not interested, just say so.”
“No, Spencer, I’m not interested in being one of your fleeting, emotionless lays.”
“Too late, Doc.”
She dropped her hands from his shoulders. God, he was cold. His eyes suddenly fluttered. He was looking over her shoulder as if he were totally uninterested in talking. She paused to consider what next to say, knowing somehow, he probably expected her to say what every other woman said to him at this point.
Instead, she asked, “You do know what I do for a living, don’t you?”
His eyes met hers, and his expression seemed puzzled. “What does that have to do with this?”
“What do you think you could possibly know about getting a woman off that I don’t also know? I don’t need any help in that department.”
His eyes opened wider with surprise.
“What? You don’t think I can apply what I know? Oh, I get it; just because you think I’m Erica Heathersby, I couldn’t know about such things as passion. I could write a book! Really, I could. What I want, however, is a partner. Not just your hands or your body. I’m not some kind of smart mannequin. I’m a thinking, breathing woman, whose name is Erica. Why can’t you just call me that?”
He pushed her back suddenly and stepped around her, saying, “If you don’t need my help, I’ll leave.” Then he slammed the door hard behind him.
She watched him go and her heart felt heavy. She didn’t want him to leave or be left alone. In a way she couldn’t recall ever feeling before, with intense longing, she craved his company. But he wanted no such connection. Nonetheless, her gut insisted that he did. With her. And he went to great lengths to pursue it, and her. He came to the hospital. He came there to be with her. He reached out to her. He wanted something more from her than just sex.
Yet when she tried to reach for him, he practically slapped her hand and warned her not to get too close.
He wanted her, yet he didn’t. She didn’t know what to do with him. He seemed surprised she wanted him back. What did he think? She’d never look his way again? But she had. And she was. And now, apparently, he couldn’t handle it.
****
Spencer left Erica’s condo feeling very pissed off. He walked briskly to the bus stop, intending to go to work where he could at least be sure she wouldn’t bump into him. Erica. What the hell did she want from him? A damn marriage proposal? Sex. They agreed on sex, until she went off and made it all weird.
He’d never seen her like she was this morning. He went home last night, knowing she would feel destroyed today. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that? Or how dangerous she could be to herself and others when she drove, let alone, while upset and tired? He had no choice but to wait for her and drive her home. He preferred not to interrupt her doctoring routine. Not when she was so important and he was literally no more than her driver. So, of course, he waited at her car. He had to be sure not to miss her. It was no big deal and meant nothing more.
But she looked so worn out, and her nerves seemed threadbare from exhaustion. The effect of her job and what she experienced was deeply etched on her face. But Spencer already knew that about her.
Why wouldn’t he call her Erica? He could. But what was the point? Calling her Doc, kept things in perspective. She was a doctor: brilliant, accomplished, and really something. He was nothing. He needed to keep that in perspective. She could make him feel like he could touch the sun sometimes in her presence. He had to remember the dark side that overshadowed his life. Despite how good it felt to be near her.
Then she emerged wearing that robe, with her hair all rumpled. She was startling to behold, and as beautiful when rumpled and natural as she was when fully made up and gorgeous. What should he have done? Ignored her? Not tried to make her feel better? But even that wasn’t good enough for Erica Heathersby.
Which was the whole point: he was not good enough for her.
Then again, who knew Erica Heathersby required no help with certain things? Hearing her say that stunned Spencer to silence. Maybe he didn’t have her accurately pegged. Or know her as well as he first assumed.
His unsettled mind kept remembering how he touched her. He had sex with Erica. It was so surreal, and unexpected that he almost couldn’t believe it really happened. She wasn’t anything like he imagined. Sure, he was undeniably attracted to her, and thought about every movement her body made, the rustle of her clothes, and the tossing of her hair. But then, Erica being so hot and turned on was beyond anything he could envision. She was hotter, quicker, and wilder than he ever anticipated. She was breathtaking, and vibrantly alive, not just remotely beautiful and untouchable like the vibes he usually felt coming from her.
She didn’t deal with any of this like he assumed she would. He thought she’d sweep their tryst under the rug, and pretend it didn’t happen. He was sure she’d seem cold and act indifferently toward him. Or, at the very least, fire him.
But… no. She clung to him for twenty minutes after they had sex. She told him privileged information that no one else knew. She seemed nearly unwilling to let him go. He didn’t know what to do or think about that.
She was embarrassed, shocked, and even uncomfortable, but she never acted sorry. In fact, unbelievably, she didn’t regret it at all, and seemed like she wanted more from him. More of what he didn’t know how to give.
What the hell? He should have just quit working for Erica and be done with it. He’d already gotten more from her than he ever dreamed he would. He should have cut his losses and moved on. Like usual. Like he always had in the past. Those thoughts occupied Spencer’s mind all day as he worked to accomplish the various tasks on Erica Heathersby’s to-do list.
Chapter Thirteen
Erica slept for five hours and when she awoke, realizing she had to face it all over again, she dutifully arose. In casual dress, she ran to the hospital. She first checked on an almost comatose Quinn and his newborn baby girl, who was still under observation even though she was healthy. By the time it was evening, she finally drove over to Spencer’s house.
After having slept, eaten, and more or less shaken off the intoxicating grief from her emotions, she felt better prepared to face Spencer and the prospect of
their new relationship. She wanted to have a conversation with him when she wasn’t half hung-over. He wasn’t at home and didn’t answer his cell. She suspected he was ignoring her calls, but remained undaunted. She refused to be put off. She wasn’t afraid of his surly, sour attitude. Not anymore. He showed his hand to her, and Erica knew he liked her. He more than liked her. And she wasn’t about to get used and discarded like Tamira. She wasn’t a Tamira to him. She knew that much.
She went back to her building and walked upstairs to talk to Joelle. Joelle was the only person in Erica’s sphere who knew Spencer.
Joelle opened the door, putting a finger to her lips as she pointed towards the bassinet. Erica quietly followed her to the balcony of their penthouse. Once outside, Joelle closed the door and smiled.
“I’m so glad to see you! How are you?”
“Me? Fine. Great. Caught Roy cheating on me, at the cancer benefit, and in the coat closet, no less.”
Joelle’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. Erica previously never had anything new to report. Usually, she discussed funny anecdotes about her patients. For some reason, she never even told Joelle about what Roy did. Perhaps that was because Joelle was right when she warned Erica about him, and Erica ignored the warnings.
“Pardon me?”
“Hmm-mmm… yes. And guess who spotted him, no less? Spencer.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know. So obviously, I dumped Roy. And you were right about him.”
“I’m sorry.”
Erica waved her hand in the air. “Not me. It was stupid relationship. I can see that now.”
