He suddenly stopped, again seeming to realize he had inadvertently said too much. His gaze fled from hers, and she chastised herself for feeling another sting of jealousy. There it was again, obvious as an elephant in the living room: his secret weekends.
She reminded herself she had no proof he was trysting with Louise Wallant. Besides, even if he was, what business was it of hers if he kept a woman in every town in the West?
It was none of her business. None of her business at all. They were two professionals who had found camaraderie in a black moment. The breaking of the ice was going to help their office relationship by leaps and bounds, but it was not going to change the facts: he was all over Louise Wallant every other weekend, and Rebecca was not going to take the chance, however small it seemed this morning, that he was another Brian Gage.
Nope. She wasn’t even going to take the chance.
John settled back on the couch, his legs stretched out across the mattress. He was less inclined to make conversation since his careless reference to the past weekend. What, he wondered idly, would she think if she knew his sordid background? If she ever got an inkling of where he was going, what he was doing during those regular road trips of his, he would have to explain where he came from. He’d have to explain the trailer by the dump, the awful beatings and the place he found sanctuary, the place he now went to every other weekend in a minuscule attempt to pay back those who’d helped him find his self-respect.
If he could just remember to remain quiet, he wouldn’t have to face any questions. Nor have to confess the ugly answers.
He felt his muscles going slack with weariness. Rebecca continued to work in the small kitchenette, as if looking for excuses not to be too close to him. Like right now—she was replacing an empty roll of paper towels.
What, that couldn’t wait?
She was avoiding him. He released a dark, ironic smile. He wondered if it was because she sensed how much he’d ached to kiss her tempting, heart-shaped lips ever since they’d got in her car this morning. And that flawless ivory skin of hers, how he wanted to caress her nude body, how he burned at the thought of those slender, perfect legs of hers locked behind his back and her moaning…moaning…
But even as he felt those thoughts arousing him, he warned himself not to ruin this hard-won peace between them. Look how long they’d been at each other’s throats. Now, as a result of their shared experience at the accident scene, a rare truce had been established.
Just because she’s being good to you now, he cautioned himself, doesn’t mean she feels what you feel.
How could she? They were as different as push and pull. He’d seen how she behaved at work with Lois and the patients: relaxed, fun loving, always kidding around with a smile in her eyes as well as on those eminently kissable, pouty lips of hers.
To her, in contrast, I must seem as interesting as a concrete piling.
Until this moment he hadn’t fully realized how much last night’s exertions had depleted him. Now the bill was coming due. He was having trouble keeping his thoughts focused and rational. The daydreams were running into the realities. Rebecca was here with him and they were professionals, cool and detached. But he still couldn’t stop the pictures of her in his mind with her hair wild and her heart anything but cool and detached.
He set his cup and saucer down on the glass-top coffee table, his head nodding slowly forward as his thoughts began to get all jumbled, like a bunch of radio stations drowning each other out….
“If I take you back to your car now,” Rebecca suggested above the quiet hum of the dishwasher, “you’ll have time to drive home, change and still make your 9:00 a.m. appointment.”
She turned to look at him, expecting his reply. Instead she saw that John Saville had fallen sound asleep on the studio couch, half sitting, half lying down.
“John?” she called to him. His first name still felt odd on her lips, but she could hardly be formal under the circumstances.
“John?” she called again, a little louder, still with no results.
“We already know you’re a sound sleeper,” she told him with a little twinge of regret as she moved closer to wake him.
Her hand inches from his shoulder, she paused, reluctant to wake the poor guy. His breathing was slow and even, his face relaxed and handsome in sleep although his head was crooked awkwardly to one side.
Feeling the guilty pleasure of a voyeur, she studied his face, the fine, straight, patrician nose, the well-defined cheekbones, the strong, broad brow and firm but expressive mouth.
Yes, he was a specimen, all right, no kidding there. But she had never placed all that much importance on looks in a man.
So why, she demanded of herself, are you so in danger of falling in love with him?
At best, he was an enigma to her, keeping to himself, seldom mingling with Mystery’s natives except when one of them needed a hernia fixed or their gall bladder out, as Hazel had. His stiff, unyielding manner was difficult for the more earthy, convivial folks of Mystery to warm up to.
Except now, another part of her pointed out, you’ve seen past that screen of formality and found a warm, relaxed, humorous person behind it.
Again she thought about their descent together on Copper Mountain, how it had secretly thrilled her to feel his arousal, the physical power and proof of his desire. It was only sexual desire, of course, and she knew men well enough to know that was no rare compliment from a man.
Yet she had no willpower to prevent her from wondering what it would be like to have him as a lover. Nor could she censor the torrid images that made her pulse race.
On top of all that, she did not have the heart to wake him up.
Exhaustion was starting to claim her, too, and he’d done far more physical exertion carrying that injured woman up to the road.
Deciding to take the responsibility on herself, she left a message for Lois on the office machine. She told her they had both put in a long night and the day’s appointments would have to be rescheduled. She was careful to say nothing that hinted they were together.
Gently, so as not to wake him, Rebecca removed his shoes. Then she settled him more comfortably on the fold-out couch with a pillow under his head.
For a few moments she wondered where she should sleep—in the nearby overstuffed chair or on the floor.
This is silly, she decided. We’re both fully dressed and exhausted. We aren’t really going to bed together, it’s a question of simple necessity.
She kicked off her shoes and carefully settled in beside him, making sure to maintain some distance.
But despite her exhaustion, it was hard for her to fall asleep. The deep rhythm of his breathing, the unavoidable warmth of his nearness, wouldn’t let her mind rest. She lay for a long time reveling in the scent of him that clung to his clothes. Finally sleep came over her like a deep, long shadow.
And she dreamed only of him.
Despite Rebecca’s good intentions, when John’s eyes eased open several hours later she lay curled tightly against him, her face only inches from his and beautiful in repose, as sensuous as a subtle painting.
His first concern should have been the time and his professional obligations. But even though a quick glance at his watch told him it was well past noon, he couldn’t pry himself away from the sleeping beauty beside him.
Her chestnut hair, unrestrained, formed a silken mane against the pillow.
He breathed deeply of it, reveling in the clean, feminine fragrance. Her mouth formed a natural pout in her sleep, and he lightly brushed her lips with his, tasting her in a stolen kiss.
He didn’t expect her lips to part readily for him—or the electric response in his loins as she pressed her body warmth even closer.
Their kiss deepened, and a low moan of pent-up desire rose in both of them as his hands caressed her, igniting fires wherever they touched.
“Is it safe to say you’re awake?” he managed to say between quickening breaths. “Or am I taking advantage of
a sleeping woman?”
“I’m not asleep,” she whispered, her tone imploring him to go further. To give more.
“The office,” he managed before he greedily tasted her kiss again.
“Taken care of,” she assured him, enthralled by her own welling passions. “I called Lois.”
Again a low, encouraging moan arose from her as his hands unbuttoned her dress, his mouth kissing her and tasting the exposed skin. One hand caressed the sweeping dip of her hip, the gently rounded stomach, then moved around behind her to join the other hand in unfastening her bra. She felt a luscious, hot pleasure stiffen her nipples as he took each into his mouth, firing her to a dizzy, pulsing ecstasy.
By now her need matched his. The caution that normally controlled her seemed melted like the liquid between her thighs. Instinct and pure rich desire took control now.
Her fingers trembling with desire, she unbuttoned his shirt. She pulled it off, running her hands over his tautly muscled chest. He groaned with the pleasure of contact when he dragged her naked, aroused breasts against him, merging their flesh.
One hand slid under the elastic waistband of her panties to feel the wet warmth of her.
He groaned, as if her arousal was almost painful to him. “It’s been too long,” he whispered, sliding the panties right off her. He stroked her high on the inside of her thighs, and she opened them wider for him, guiding his fingers with every stroke.
She shuddered, a throaty moan escaping her, when his fingers gently parted the delicate folds of her sex like petals, driving her with quick intensity to a climax. The speed of it shocked her and only made her greedy for more.
“I want you inside me,” she begged, fumbling to un-buckle and lower his trousers.
“I want me inside you, too,” he assured her, gazing deep into her eyes. “But one of us has to be responsible. I don’t have any protection. How ’bout you?”
“Believe it or not,” she confessed, “until this moment that’s never been an issue with me—almost, a few times, but not quite.”
He stared down at her as if not quite believing.
She controlled her reeling thoughts long enough to persuade him. All she knew now was want and the fiery drive to appease it. John Saville was another woman’s lover and would probably never be hers again, but time was standing still for once. All the instincts that saved her from Brian had abandoned her. She only knew that while her mind told her it was long-suppressed carnal greed driving her, her heart had her fooled that it was love. She wanted John Saville, wanted him now, because all the lies had lined up just right, and she was blinded and, oh, so hungry.
“This should be the absolute safest time for me,” she whispered, pulling him onto her. “That’s as responsible as Nurse Becky can be right now, Doctor.”
He closed his eyes as if the emotions inside him roiled in conflict. Finally, as if damned, he settled himself between her thighs. “Don’t be nervous,” he soothed as he entered her. “It’s going to be nice, you’ll see.”
Mixed in with the breathless heat of her desire was a little fear of the unknown, but he’d told her the truth. For just a brief moment, as he opened her tight resistance, she was uncomfortable. But he was gentle, and the slight pain immediately gave way to massive wellings of pleasure that made her whisper for more.
His gentleness, in turn, gave way to an insistent masculine hunger that made his hips move faster and faster, plunge harder and harder. Again, yet again, she rose on fast waves of sexual climax, each one stronger and more satisfying than the one preceding it.
Finally, just when she was sure the intensity of her responses must make her pass out, he exploded inside her, taking her up with him one last time in a mutual peak of ecstatic pleasure.
Once again exhausted, though this time by pleasure, he drifted off to sleep. Her last coherent picture was a dazed tangle of arms and legs before she joined him in slumber.
Eight
John’s eyes slowly focused on his watch: 3:15 p.m.
“We’ve been zoned out for hours,” he marveled.
Still curled up beside him, Rebecca knew she was awake by her sudden self-consciousness about her nudity. She pulled the sheet up to hide her exposed breasts, but she made no effort to dress because that would mean leaving his side and killing the moment.
Sick in her heart, she came to the desperate realization that she was heading for a fall. She might rationalize that she had taken John Saville to her bed as a Mr. Right-Now, but deep down she knew he meant more. Much more. And she had no right to him. What they’d done was wrong, without commitment, and there had been none. They’d let the moment take them by the throat, and now he would have to leave, and she would have to pretend the most earth-shattering joy she’d ever known had never happened.
“Maybe I shouldn’t ask,” he said, lips brushing her ear, “but was your first time worth the wait?”
“Mmm,” she replied with a mysterious, hurt little smile. “Remember, Doctor, I have nothing to compare it with.”
“That disappointing, huh?”
“Well, if you must know, I…I really have no complaints to register.” Even to her the words sounded forced and distant, but she was too afraid to relinquish her cover and blurt out the truth of what she felt.
She glanced down. “Only a tiny bit of blood, too. Is that usual?”
“Concerning the deflowering of virgins,” he assured her, “I can only quote my worthy nurse—I have nothing to compare it with.”
“So it was a first for both of us, huh?” Her lips, swollen from the passion of their kisses, tilted in another little smile.
He kissed them, and she suddenly felt another stirring of desire. Yet at the back of her mind the seeds of doubt had already been planted.
The passion of their lovemaking had been deep and undeniable, but, she reminded herself, it was almost accidental. They had bonded during a terrible emergency, then gotten mutually turned on by unintended physical contact during sleep.
Sure, the secret truth was that she had probably fallen for him, and she was ready and eager to keep right on going. But caution was back in terrible force. Now, more than anything, she wanted to retain her pride. She had to be coldly rational and not let him or the experience with him make her fall. Their joining had been a heat-of-the-moment thing, no more. Tomorrow she had to show up for work and allow him the same benefit without being clingy and needful.
They were not in love, she told herself. Hell, they hadn’t even been on a date. She had to keep things cool so she could continue with her job. So she wouldn’t get hurt.
She looked at him, desperately wanting to be glib. Instead, his appearance made her smile.
“What are you grinning about now?” he demanded.
“A word I used to mispronounce—bedraggled. I used to say ‘bed-raggled’ instead of bedraggled. But bed-raggled is exactly how we look now.”
He touched the wild, tangled mane of her hair. She noticed even his short coal-black hair was so mussed the part had disappeared.
Almost grimly, he looked over her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “The light’s blinking like crazy on your answering machine,” he said with resignation. “I didn’t even hear the phone ringing. I guess it’s turned off.”
“Nope,” she blurted out.
They both looked at each other in amazement.
“I guess we were tired,” she offered.
Unwilling to speak her thoughts out loud, she wished she could immerse herself in their lovemaking until everything mundane and ordinary was washed away again.
But that wasn’t the real world. And the real world was intruding with each passing second, and with each flashing light on her machine.
“Maybe you’d better check it,” he suggested. “They might be looking for me.”
She wanted desperately to ask him if it would shame him to be found asleep in her small apartment, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment with a truthful answer. Memories of Brian assailed her. She knew she had to
manage this incident so it turned out differently, but the only route seemed to be to detach, to assiduously remain uninvolved and without expectation.
That meant she couldn’t let herself fall into bed with him again. Lovemaking was only going to lead to confession and ultimately rejection. She didn’t want the messiness of it. Her heart was tattered enough.
Stoically she left the bed and quickly began to dress.
He lay back and watched her, sensing the change in her manner.
Standing, he slipped on his trousers as she crossed to the answering machine and poked the play button.
“Becky, hon,” boomed an overly jovial male voice, “it’s Dad. I’m calling from my hotel room in Greeley, Colorado. I just saw your picture on the news. Congratulations. I’m really proud of you, kiddo. I should be coming by to see you in a couple of weeks, assuming you aren’t too famous to squeeze the old man in. Later, hon.”
John stared at her as the message clicked off, his face blank with surprise.
“Saw your picture on the news?” he repeated. “Did you notice any reporters up there on Copper Mountain?”
“I spotted a van that said Action Four News on the side,” she told him. “That’s a station out of Helena. But I didn’t notice any cameraman. Of course, I wasn’t really looking.”
She played the next two messages. Similar congratulations from Lois and Hazel, plus an assurance from Lois that she had taken care of rescheduling patients and would be holding down the fort.
By now John, too, had dressed. “Guess I should pick up my car before birds nest in it,” he suggested.
She wondered if he was anxious to be gone. She assumed he was. To her, her whole life had changed; as for him, he was probably ready to get the day rolling after a one-night stand.
Forcing herself to be practical, she went to get the car keys. On the outside, she was calm and easygoing; inside, she was roiling with anxiety.
She had never given her virginity to anyone. Now she had to accept that her night with him was just a meaningless tryst. It had come out of the adrenaline and exhaustion of the accident the night before, and it would dissipate as soon as they stepped out the door into the daylight.
The M.D. Courts His Nurse Page 8
