by Ann, Natalie
“No, why didn’t you tell them who you were and ask the receptionist to fit you in with me?”
“I did tell them my name. They said you were booked solid,” she told him again, not understanding the frustration he was exhibiting.
“Next time call my cell phone directly. Or ask the front desk to page me.”
She didn’t have a chance to respond, as the nurse practitioner opened the door and looked bewildered. “Dr. Malone?”
He turned, addressed the newest person to enter the room, relayed Zoe’s temperature and ordered a swab for strep throat and culture to be run immediately. He then ran his hand over Zoe’s curls that were damp with sweat. “Hey, you be a good girl, OK? Do what Robin asks; she is going to make you feel better.” Placing a soft kiss on her head, he handed Zoe back to Beth. “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
“I heard he relates well with his patients. But wow, I never expected that,” Robin said in wonder.
Beth chose not to respond. She didn’t want there to be any more talk than necessary regarding Mac.
At the end of the exam Zoe’s hoarse voice strained as she told Robin, “Magic box. I was a good girl.”
“Yes, you were a good girl,” Robin replied with a warm smile. “But only Dr. Malone has the magic box. I’m sorry.”
Beth shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that. He really did seem to always put the children first.
Then she saw Zoe’s eyes fill with tears, not fully comprehending that every visit didn’t result in a toy. Before the tears could start to fall, Beth picked her up trying to distract her. “Do you want Mommy to get you some Popsicles? What color do you want?”
“Blue. And purple,” she stated with conviction, her voice a little louder, but not by much.
Twenty minutes later, Beth was checking out with a script for an antibiotic and cough syrup. Even though Beth hadn’t heard Zoe cough, Robin had asked Zoe to cough for her and didn’t like the sound of it.
Beth was putting her wallet back in her purse, having had to set Zoe on the floor to take care of the payment, when Mac walked into the waiting room—oblivious to the fact that all eyes were on him. Doctor’s didn’t normally enter the waiting room to begin with, least of all one that looked like him.
Zoe, noticing Mac first, took off toward him before Beth could stop her. Not waiting a beat, he lifted her up when she reached him. Laying her head on his shoulder, Zoe wrapped her arms around his neck to settle in. It was a battle, but Beth managed to fight back the tears in her eyes. Her little girl was well and truly infatuated with Mac. And so was she, she realized.
He nodded Beth over to a far corner. Not much privacy, but better than the middle of the waiting room, though all eyes were still on them, even the office workers. “I heard you were a good girl,” he said in a low voice.
“Yes, I was,” Zoe said, her voice croaking, causing her to wince in pain, tears springing to her eyes.
“Shhhh, don’t talk, honey, not if it hurts. But I’ve got something for you.” He pulled a little purple pouch from the front pocket of his lab coat. “Here, let Mommy open it and show you.”
Beth took the pouch, touched that Mac thought to grab something for Zoe out of the magic box. He had done nothing but put Zoe first since the moment he met her.
Showing her the rope necklace, with a tiny bottle of bubbles on the end, brought a tiny smile to Zoe’s tearful face. “Necklace,” she whispered.
“Yes. It’s a bubble necklace. I know how much you love bubbles, but Mommy is going to put it away until you feel better, OK?”
“OK,” she croaked out, her head never rising from Mac’s shoulder.
He looked down, Zoe’s eyes started to droop from exhaustion. “I’ll carry her to the car for you.”
“No, you’ve got patients to see. I’m sure you’re already backed up from coming to see us. Both times, actually.” She reached out to take Zoe, who thankfully didn’t put up a fuss.
Wiping a tear from Zoe’s cheek, he leaned in and gave her a kiss, telling her, “I’ll stop by on my way home.”
“You don’t have—” Beth started to say, only to have Mac cut her off.
“I’ll see you no later than six,” he stated firmly, then walked away leaving lots of speculation in his wake.
***
“How is she?” Mac asked several hours later when Beth opened the door to him. He had removed the blue tie that she’d noticed under his lab coat today, and a few of the buttons on his shirt were now undone. He looked way too sexy. She realized she shouldn’t be thinking that when he was clearly stopping to see Zoe.
“Better. The medicine is already taking effect.”
Zoe, having finally noticed Mac from the corner of the couch where she was resting, watching cartoons with her dolls next to her, sat up and waved. He waved back and smiled, pointing to his lips, obviously seeing the blue stain around her mouth.
“Have you been eating paint?” he asked playfully.
“Nooooo. Blue pops,” she said, her voice sounding much clearer already.
“Blue pops are the best. They’re my favorite,” he told her in confidence.
“Purple’s my favorite,” she told him.
“Tell Mac how many pops you’ve eaten today, Zoe. Can you hold your fingers up?”
Zoe held up four little fingers with a lopsided grin.
“Four pops,” Mac exclaimed. “Oh no, your tongue might change colors permanently now.”
They both watched as Zoe stuck her tongue out and looked down at it to see what color it was.
“Definitely looks better to me,” Mac said. “Her culture came back; it’s strep. I’ve seen four patients this week with it already.”
“So what now?” Beth asked, uncertain.
“Nothing more than what you’ve been doing. Her throat most likely won’t hurt at all by this time tomorrow. Keep the Motrin in her for the fever overnight, but she seems fine now. Cough syrup tonight, too. If she isn’t coughing at all in the morning you can stop with that. It will help get her though the night at the very least. And make sure she is drinking, or eating pops,” he said with a smile at Zoe who was now lying back down.
“Are you hungry?” Beth asked, changing the subject. “Zoe wasn’t very hungry, but I made some chicken stir fry. There is plenty left over.”
“Sure, I could eat,” he said, following her into the kitchen.
Pulling a beer out for him and grabbing a glass when he nodded his head in thanks, she handed it off, then picked up a plate along with the leftovers that were still hot in the pan.
“Did you eat already?” he asked.
“Yes. I wasn’t very hungry, though. I tried to think of something for Zoe to eat, but in the end I realized she only wanted popsicles, so I made something I wanted. Except once it was done, I didn’t eat much.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
Zoe called her from the living room, stating she needed to go potty and wanted to go to bed. So Beth let Mac finish his dinner in quiet while she took care of Zoe. Returning to the kitchen ten minutes later, she found Mac loading the dishwasher and washing her pans.
“You didn’t need to do that. I cooked,” she reminded him.
“But I ate it, and you’ve had a hard enough day as it was. Besides, now that Zoe’s in bed and the dishes are done maybe we can go make-out on the couch,” he said with a wink. It had been two days since she had seen him at the salon and she was missing him already, so she was more than eager to take him up on the offer.
“Ah, your secret plan, huh? Butter me up by cleaning up the dishes,” she said slyly to him.
“Do I need to butter you up?” he asked curiously.
“No.” She laughed, leaned up and gave him a quick kiss that he soon turned into to something more than the playful bantering she was attempting.
Pulling back, leaving her winded, he asked, “Zoe all set for the night?”
“Out cold. I didn’t even get halfway through Cinderella.” Speaking of Cinderella,
standing in her kitchen right now barefoot, in loose cotton shorts and an old faded shirt next to his tailored pants and dress shirt made her feel like it was the stroke of midnight. All she needed now was the glass slipper left on the kitchen floor.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her the short distance to the living room. Then apparently decided to detour into Zoe’s room first. He walked over, ran a hand over Zoe’s forehead, trailed his fingers down her cheeks and leaned in to kiss her good night. “Sleep good, sweetie.”
Turning toward Beth now, he whispered, “Fever is gone; she looks better. Her breathing is nice and level, so she should be out for the night. With any luck, you might get some sleep too.”
When he turned back toward the living room, Beth instead tugged him toward her bedroom door, which had always remained closed.
“Zoe was right, it’s purple. No, lavender,” he corrected. And yes, her bed looked like a cloud, now that she thought about it.
“Queen Elizabeth,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked in surprise.
“Your bed. Fit for a queen. Queen Elizabeth, that’s your name right?”
“No. Beth. Just plain old Beth,” she replied.
“Nothing plain about you,” he stated before he captured her mouth for another sweltering kiss, running his hands under her shirt, then up her ribs. Breaking away, he lifted her shirt over her head, turned and shut the door. When he turned back she was lowering her shorts and reaching back to unclasp her bra.
“Can’t wait?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.
Flustered, but wanting to please him, she answered shyly, honestly. “No.” Then proceeded to undress.
Naked now, she approached him, leaned up and ran her mouth over his neck to his collarbone, then back to his ear. “Teach me,” she whispered.
“Teach you what?”
She knew he knew what she wanted, what she meant. A blush spread across her face, but she was determined to continue. “To please you,” she whispered back.
“Let’s teach each other instead.”
She didn’t understand his meaning and was too self-conscious to ask. Instead, she brought her hands up, slowly pushing each button out of the holes one by one. His whiskey-colored eyes seemed to glow deeper with each second that ticked by.
Pulling his shirt out of his waistband, she reached for the last button, then pushed the shirt over his thick shoulders. His belt was next, followed by the button of his trousers. She lowered the zipper and pushed his pants to the floor.
He toed off his shoes, finished with his last few articles of clothing and climbed into bed next to her. Pulling her close, he held her lovingly, nothing sexual for the moment, just comfort.
But she had other ideas and started to press her hips into his after she saw how ready he was for her.
“Slow down and enjoy,” he told her when she urgently rubbed against him. “Tell me what you want. Show me.”
“How?” she asked.
“Tell me,” he explained to her again, running his hands down her body. “Or move my hands where you want them.”
She reached for his hand, placed it over her breast and watched as he touched her, shivers running through her body when his thumb grazed over her nipple. His mouth followed his hand and she arched into him. She liked that even better, her hands moving to his shoulders squeezing him, her nails biting into his flesh.
Sliding his mouth down her body, and over her stomach, he spent time on her navel. She never knew that was such a sensual part, but her body was twitching now—everything he did felt so good. She pushed his shoulders down a bit more, urging him to move even lower. He complied.
Before he tasted her, though, he touched her. His fingers glided between, spreading the moisture around. He slid a finger inside, still so tight, but oh so good. Her hips bucked up wanting more as the quiet moans escaped her lips.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she said on a moan.
“What else?” his asked, his voice struggling, she heard.
“Your mouth,” she said embarrassingly.
“Where?” he asked, his fingers moving in and out, her breath catching in her throat.
“Down there, where you are. Now,” she said on a sob.
He took pity on her and gave her what she asked. Her moans intensified, letting him know what she liked best of all. At last, she started to tense and shake, her body trying to fight it, trying to hold off, she never wanted it to end, wanted to freeze this place in time.
“Relax, give in to it,” he commanded against her overly sensitive skin. Her body shattered, gripping his finger inside of her. Holding his head in place, she could do nothing more than lie there spent, completely limp and sedated.
He gathered her in close and comforted her as her breaths sobbed out. When the last pant escaped her lips she turned her mouth toward his neck. Tentatively placing kisses, she ran her tongue around each and every groove she came across.
He shifted her, lying on his back, pulling her across his chest. He ran his hands down her back, over her behind, kneading and squeezing her. She pressed her hips into his hardness, and his body tensed a bit.
He fisted his hand in her hair, pulled her head up from his chest, captured her mouth with his, and kissed her hungrily.
Straddling his hips, she brought herself to her knees. “Teach me,” she ordered again, grabbing a condom and placing it over him, rolling it down ever so slowly.
His hands gripped her hips, guiding her over him, her body stretching to accommodate his desire. Once he was fully embedded in her warmth, he urged her to rise up and down, to set her own pace. She was awkward at first, but a fast learner. Soon he didn’t need to guide her at all as she found a rhythm and rode him—slow and clumsy at first, fast and agile, back to slow, then speeding it up. She was fueled on sensation alone, watching his reaction, feeding her craving. He had wanted her to set the pace, and she did.
But he was struggling to hold on. She saw his breath catch and loved how his fingers dug into her hips harder. Then he moved them and fondled her again, applied the right amount of pressure between her legs, and let her movements dictate her pleasure.
She was so close, her body started to shake for a second time. “That’s it. Faster, keep it up,” he said, moaning, his eyes never leaving her face as she moved up and down. She was mesmerized by his stare, urging her to a whole new level of ecstasy.
Moments later twin groans filled the air. He grasped her head, pulled her down and covered her mouth with his to muffle their shouts, trying to keep them quiet as possible.
Finally spent, she lay back across his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“My pleasure.”
***
Hours later he woke, glanced at the clock, saw it was after ten and forced himself to get up.
“Where are going?” she asked sleepily.
“Home,” he replied with regret.
“Why?” she asked simply.
He didn’t have a clue, so he climbed back in next to her. He would get up early in the morning, go home to shower and change before work.
Childless Night
After dinner on a Friday night, toward the end of July, Mac was cutting the grass on his brand new riding lawnmower—his new pride and joy. And he was enjoying every minute of it. His property wasn’t overly large, but there was plenty of grass to cut. Even though he actually enjoyed the lawn maintenance, using a push mower held no appeal.
He was in the front of the house off to the side of the long driveway. Beth and Zoe were on the little beach by the water splashing around, when a large Mercedes pulled into the driveway. He didn’t need to see the Vermont plates to know, or to swear.
He shut off the mower and walked over to greet his parents, clueless as to why they would show up unannounced like this. It was totally unlike them. His mother always meticulously planned every minute of his parents’ lives.
“Mac.” His father greete
d him happily with a warm hardy handshake. His father had always been warmer than his mother, not by much, just a tad.
But Mac had noticed a change in his father after Brooke’s birthday last August. He didn’t know what had happened that one morning Brooke had gone home to say goodbye to his parents. And he didn’t think she was ever going to let him know. Whatever it was, his father was a different person. His mother, on the other hand, remained cool, if not more standoffish. Especially toward Brooke.
Another fear quickly passed through his brain. Where were his parents going to stay? He didn’t want them here. For Brooke’s sake he would bite the bullet and offer if it came down to that.
Mac returned his father’s greeting, walked over to his mother, clasped both her hands in his and leaned down to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, just as he was taught. “Mother, what brings you here?”
“Your father had a wild hair about wanting to see your house.” She glanced around and wrinkled her nose when her eyes landed on the addition. Though the main and upper floors were complete on the inside with only the basement left to finish off, the outside was still showing signs of construction. Once everything was complete, he would decide on what color he wanted the cedar siding stained. For now one half was the original warn weathered gray, and the addition was unfinished.
“It looks great, Mac,” his father’s deep monotone voice said with a bit more inflection than normal, coming off almost good naturedly. The elder Dr. Malone was as tall as Mac, only sporting gray hair rather than Mac’s brown.
Mac was dumbfounded. His father never seemed to approve of anything Mac did, least of all his field of medicine. Not up to his standards. But there was almost a hint of admiration in his eyes right now as he gazed at Mac’s property.
“Is someone working right now?” Paula Malone asked. She was overdressed, as always, in a pale blue linen pants suit with low-heeled sandals, and not a hair out of place.
“No, why?” Mac asked.
He caught his mother’s glance at the aging Honda behind Mac’s BMW. Crap. Now what? In all his years as an adult, he’d never brought a woman home to meet his parents. Even though Beth was different, even though he thought she was the one, he wasn’t looking forward to this moment. Least of all with no warning. He needed time to prepare himself. That wasn’t going to be happening now, so with nothing he could do about it, he braced himself for what could be a very uncomfortable introduction.
