My Sister's Boyfriend (The Trouble With Twins 1)

by Sylvia McDaniel

  And here he stood in her shower once again wanting to make love to her.

  She opened her eyes. "I never knew water fantasies could come true."

  He kissed her lightly on her lips. "Unfortunately, I think we've used up all the hot water."

  Leaning into him, she rubbed her soapy body against his. "Then let's hurry. I'm not ready to return to cold showers."

  He kissed her hard while he stood her underneath the shower, rinsing her body. He released her lips just long enough to turn the water off.

  She reached for a towel, but instead he took the terry cloth away from her and wrapped her up. He stepped out of the shower and helped her out. Once again, his mouth found hers, but this time, he led her, walking backwards to the bed in the next room. His mouth didn’t leave hers until he pushed, and she fell backwards onto the bed. At the same time, he ripped the towel from her body.

  Grabbing a condom, he quickly sheathed himself. She gazed up at him from the bed in a look that had him all but leaping for her. He wanted her yet again, and that surprised him.

  With an urgency that should have long since been satisfied, he plunged into her, feeling her warmth surround him. Feeling like he'd come home and found where he belonged. He groaned as pleasure took him a willing prisoner once again.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she drew him down, her mouth covering his. She tasted of toothpaste and soap and home and hearth. And yet he couldn't get enough of her. He'd broken his steadfast rule of never sleeping over and found himself wanting to spend the day with her.

  She felt so tight, so good and he could feel his climax building. The bed rocked with the motion of their lovemaking, and Jennifer began to quiver in release beneath him. With a last desperate plunge, he came deep inside her. Trembling, he fell down on the bed beside her, pulling her close.

  For a moment neither one said anything as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Then Jennifer started to laugh. "At this rate we're going to starve."

  Brent rubbed her back with his hand, not wanting to let her go but knowing he should get up. "What a way to go. Though if we continue at this pace, I'm going to need some protein to keep going."

  She kissed him and jumped up off the bed and out of his reach. "I'll go start breakfast while you clean up."

  He watched her pull on a robe, her blonde hair tousled and her cheeks rosy. She looked absolutely beautiful and he felt content.

  "Don't take too long," she said and disappeared from the room.

  Brent stood up and stretched, his body feeling languorously tired, yet aware of a sense of contentment and happiness. They were good together. Chemistry existed between them that he'd never felt before. Yet tomorrow they would return to the hospital and once again concentrate on their careers. And after last night, keeping a professional demeanor around one another would be difficult.

  Stepping into the shower, he let the cool water spray the disjointed thoughts from his sluggish brain. If he stayed here many more nights, he'd need to take a look at her water heater and turn up the temperature or check to see what was wrong with it, for the water definitely wasn't hot enough.

  Listen to him thinking of being with Jennifer again. Quickly he pushed the thought from his mind, needing to finish getting ready before breakfast.

  Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off and put on the clean underwear she’d insisted on washing for him last night after they’d returned from Bubbles.

  She'd thought ahead of how it would feel to put on wet, soapy clothes and taken care of him. His tuxedo still needed a trip to the cleaners, but at least it wasn’t ruined. No other woman had cared enough to think of his comforts.

  He straightened up the bathroom and then flushed the toilet. The water gurgled making a bubbly noise and continued to run even after he'd walked out of the room and returned.

  "Jennifer," he called.

  She came around the corner dressed in a shorts outfit that showed off her long tan legs. "Yes?"

  "I think your toilet’s broken," he said.

  She rolled her eyes at him. "That crazy thing gives us trouble all the time. I keep meaning to call a plumber, but just haven't had time. Jiggle the handle. Usually it will quit in a minute after you jiggle."

  "You go finish breakfast and I'll take care of this."

  "Doctor, plumber…what else are you good at that you haven’t told me about?"

  He raised his brows and gave her a sly smile. "You'll have to discover that on your own."

  Jennifer watched him pull off the lid of the toilet and laughed. "Instead of the Ty-D-Bol man, I've got a tiger in my tank."

  He shook his head at her and grinned. "No, I think you've got a doctor in your tank. Go fix me some breakfast, and then we'll discuss your plumbing."

  With just a glance, he could see that the valve needed replacing and it needed a new float.

  Rolling up his sleeves, he realized how much he wanted to help her. He'd once been a broke medical student living in a house where the plumbing needed an overhaul. One little flapper valve he could handle.

  Brent plunged his hands into the cold water and went to work on the flapper. The chain was too tight and the flapper no longer had a tight seal. The toilet could use new insides, but if he had a pair of needle-nose pliers he could fix this in about two seconds.

  Drying his hands on a towel, he walked into the kitchen, where she stood over a stove cooking them omelets. "Where do you keep your tools?"

  Jennifer's eyes widened. "What kind of tools?"

  "A pair of pliers."

  "What do they look like?"

  "Two metal handles that are pointed and squeeze together."

  "Oh those things. Yeah, we have those right here."

  She opened a drawer, removed the tool, and handed it to Brent. "Great. I think I can fix it temporarily until you buy some new parts. I could come over and install them for you."

  Jennifer raised her brows. "Honey, you're welcome to come over anytime and put something in my tank."

  Brent shook his head and walked from the kitchen, speaking as he went. "You just keep frying that bacon, because I'm going to need the protein."

  In a matter of moments he'd lengthened the chain releasing the tension on the flapper that allowed the water to leak and kept the bowl from filling properly.

  His hands were deep in the bowels of her toilet when he realized how much he enjoyed doing this simple domestic chore for her. He'd even volunteered to come back and replace the insides of her toilet, and he hated anything to do with plumbing.

  Wait…he wasn't a damn plumber; he was a doctor. But then most men hated plumbing. Still, how many of those men were elbow deep in a toilet tank like he was? How many women were frying bacon for their man as he overhauled her flapper valve?

  Just another typical Saturday morning in the Cleaver household. That thought froze him in place. He wasn’t Ward Cleaver, and he sure wasn’t looking for his June!

  Damn! How the hell did his hand get in Jennifer Riley’s tank?

  Had he become so enamored of her that he was performing honey-do chores?

  A cold sweat broke out on his skin, and he had to take a deep breath to control the pounding of his heart.

  Had he lost his mind? Had he forgotten his genes so quickly?

  He swallowed, trying to keep the fear at bay. He was fixing her toilet! A definite husband-like chore. His hands were deep in her tank doing menial labor, and he wanted to help her.

  What in the hell was wrong with him?

  Last night and this morning he'd broken all his standard rules for keeping a woman at bay. Never sleep over, never bathe together, and never, ever volunteer for any husbandly chores.

  The danger of domestication and living together went hand-in-hand, and he'd just violated all his rules and let down his defenses. Jennifer had dazzled him that much.

  The next step would be for her to clear out a drawer or shelf for his toiletries and belongings. Little by little he'd find either her stuff at his house or his th
ings at hers. This had to stop now!

  "Honey, breakfast is ready," she called.

  Was that Jennifer or June Cleaver calling him? He could almost hear the theme song for Leave it to Beaver playing in the background.

  Honey sounded something like dear or husband or lover or some other endearing pet name he'd heard his mother say to husbands number two and three. And his father uttered those same words to anything young, shapely and female.

  He had to get out of here and quick!

  But there was breakfast to get through, and they'd talked of doing something together the rest of the day. What kind of excuse could he come up with to leave?

  The excuse every doctor used: he'd call and check messages and have to go the hospital.

  Brent sighed, feeling more secure now that he had a plan of escape.

  "Are you almost finished?" she said, startling him.

  He jumped, smacking his hand on the tank. "Yeah I'm all done. It should flush just fine now until you can get the insides replaced."

  "Thanks! Julia will be so glad to know that she doesn't have to worry about that anymore. You keep fixing things, and she'll be asking you to move in."

  His hands were damp as fear rushed through him like a stampede of elephants, and it was all he could do to keep from running to the door.

  "Let's go eat," he said, brushing by her to get out of the enclosed bathroom as quickly as possible.

  Brent couldn't stand close to her. He couldn’t breathe with her next to him. Not now. Not when he was trying to withdraw from her.

  They walked into the kitchen where a romantic brunch awaited him. She'd lit two candles, giving their late breakfast an ambiance that frightened him even more.

  He didn't know if he would be able to get the eggs to slide down his tightened throat. What had he been thinking to let things go so far? They were speeding down a highway that only led to disaster, and he couldn't find the brakes.

  "What would you like to do this afternoon?" she asked.

  He forced his throat to swallow. The eggs tasted like mush in his mouth.

  "Uh, I don't know. I need to check in with my service and make sure my patients are all doing okay," he stammered.

  She nodded. "Okay. Do you like to ride bikes?"

  Brent pushed the eggs across his plate, trying to eat them, knowing his hunger had been flushed down the toilet—literally. No woman before had gotten this close, and it frightened him how quickly his defenses crumbled beneath Jennifer's touch.

  "Brent? Oh Brent? Are you still with me?" she asked, looking at him in question.

  "I'm sorry. Did you say something?" he asked.

  "Yes, I asked if you like to ride bikes. I thought that maybe we could go for a bike ride at the state park."

  He nodded and swallowed a drink of coffee, hoping it would get him through this. "Yeah, I like to ride bikes."

  "So you want to go out to the state park?"

  "Yeah. That would be fine." He glanced at his plate. Only two more bites before he could jump up and go call his service and escape.

  God, he enjoyed her company. Their date had been fun and entertaining and more dangerous than anything he'd experienced in the last five years. Hazardous enough to make him question his plans to remain single.

  "Breakfast was great, Jennifer. Not only are you beautiful, but you can cook."

  God, he was beginning to say things that Ward Cleaver had said to June.

  Jennifer gazed at him oddly. "And not only are you a doctor, but you're also a plumber. Good qualities to find in a man."

  Sipping his coffee, he almost choked. He'd been certain she was going to say mate. But even the word man was a little too close for comfort.

  "I better go check in."

  "Sure. I'll load up the dishwasher and start gathering water bottles and helmets."

  She watched him walk out of the room. He hit speed dial on his phone and listened for his messages. Then he called the nurse on the pediatrics floor who gave him a quick rundown on his patients. Everyone was fine.

  He hit the end call button, but continued to talk.

  "Yes, I can be there in about twenty minutes. Tell the parents I'm on my way."

  She came around the corner and eyed him suspiciously. "Something wrong?"

  "Unfortunately, I have to go to the hospital. One of my patients is having a seizure. I'll have to take a rain check on the bike riding."

  She nodded. "Sure."

  He went into the bedroom and grabbed his tuxedo coat and made sure he had everything from the night before. As he walked back to the front door, she stood waiting for him with her keys in her hand. "You don't have a car, so I'll just drop you off at the hospital."

  Damn, he'd forgotten about the limo picking him up and dropping them off here at her place. "I can call a cab."

  "It will be quicker if I take you. Besides, I might even come up with you." Yikes, then she’d know his sham.

  The next twenty minutes were the longest of Brent's life as he sat in her car while she drove him to County General. They spoke very little, and he could tell that she suspected something had gone wrong.

  When he saw the hospital, he felt a sense of relief, though he knew he would have to bum a ride home or have a taxi come get him.

  She pulled up in front of emergency and turned to gaze at him.

  "I had a great time, and I hope you did too," she said. He couldn't lie to her, but he couldn't be with her.

  "It was wonderful. The best date I've ever had," he said honestly.

  Only it had scared the hell out of him.

  She wet her lips, and he had to steel himself against telling her to take them back to the house. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Yes, tomorrow." He leaned over and meant to only kiss her lightly, but somehow he felt dry, and her mouth was a well. A fountain of virtual pleasure that he drank from until he somehow managed to push himself away.

  "Bye, Jennifer."

  Quickly he exited the car, but not before he noticed the hurt expression shadowing her blue eyes. Damn and double damn, he didn’t want to hurt Jennifer, but he couldn’t be with her either. He couldn’t be with any woman.

  Chapter Twelve

  A week later, Jennifer dashed in for a wedding shower being held for a co-worker in the employee lounge of the hospital. As she entered the room, she instantly saw Brent standing in the corner, watching the bride and groom opening gifts. She laid her gift on the table and took a chair as far away from him as possible.

  Since she'd dropped him off that Sunday morning at the hospital, she'd only seen glimpses of the handsome doctor all week. And he'd never called. Not once. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out either he’d gotten what he wanted or he was running scared.

  She didn't know what had triggered his mad sprint on Sunday, but something had definitely prompted him to make a dash as far away from Jennifer as possible. Which led her to believe that he was definitely running scared.

  And that not only hurt, but made her angry. Sure, she'd known going into the date that it was for one night only, but after the night they shared, she had expected him to act like a well-adjusted adult. She hadn't expected to be dropped without even a goodbye, never to be seen again.

  Two could play the ignore game. She would outlast him and win this little skirmish.

  She focused on watching Kristie, the soon-to-be bride, opening gifts, listening as the staff teased the couple. They looked so young and in love that she felt envious.

  Brent crossed the room and sank down in the chair next to her. She glanced at him, her body acknowledging him with a rapid increase in her heart rate.

  “Hi,” he said quietly. "Don't you just hate these things? Look at them. He's not even finished with medical school, and they're getting married."

  She glanced over at Brent and raised her brows at his comment. "No, I kind of enjoy wedding showers. It shows me that they're in love enough that they're willing to take a chance on one another. It’s refreshi
ng."

  "Refreshing?"

  "Yeah, so many people live together now. I like to see couples willing to acknowledge that they believe their love is strong enough to weather any storm. So they're taking the plunge and getting married."

  Brent shook his head. "Spoken like a woman who's never seen the wreck a divorce can have on a family."

  "No, I'm fortunate that I've never experienced divorce firsthand. But even if I had, I hope it wouldn't make me commitment phobic."

  He turned and looked surprised. "So you think I'm commitment phobic?"

  "Did I mention your name? I didn't know we were talking about you. I thought we were talking about John and Kristie."

  Brent frowned at her, clearly not knowing how to respond.

  "Besides, you told me the very first time we went out that you were commitment phobic. So yes, Brent, I realize you have a fear of relationships, and I never expected you to act any differently than you have."

  Jennifer returned her gaze to the couple in the front of the room, hoping she appeared to be unaffected by his comments.

  "And how have I acted?" he prompted.

  She laughed, the sound cynical. "You turned chicken and ran."

  "I've been busy," he denied.

  Jennifer shrugged, acting as if his reaction hadn't bothered her in the least. She refused to let him see how his actions had hurt her. "It was what I expected. I had a great time Saturday night, and the fact you stayed through breakfast surprised me. Though we didn't discuss our expectations that night, I knew with your commitment issues that I shouldn’t expect anything more than Saturday night."

  "You didn't?" he asked surprised. "I mean…I was fixing your toilet…"

  She gazed at him, her brows drawn together in disbelief. "What does my toilet have to do with seeing each other again?"

  "Well…it just seemed so…hell, I don't know."

  "Fixing a toilet represents commitment to you? So what happens if you change my oil? Does this mean we’re chained together for life?” She laughed. “Excuse me, but no one asked you to put your hands in my tank. I can hire a plumber for that job."