by Lyz Kelley
A gentle rumble rolled through her stomach. The tension in her muscles eased, and the anxious concern evaporated. “Now why don’t you drink your beer, and I’ll order us some dinner?”
Before she could move, he lifted her onto his lap. His hungry lips devoured hers.
For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. She fisted the fabric of his shirt to tug him closer. She wanted to feel his heat, feel his need for her, feel his passion.
He angled his head, deepening the kiss. Her tongue met his and tingled with the aftertaste of barley, and she lost all focus when his hand drifted up the inside of her shirt. He loosened his grip so he could cup her breasts. His large, warm hands covered them completely. The faint roughness of his palms squeezing rhythmically triggered the erotic pulses that sent her logical mind into a tailspin and made her clench with need.
The longing for him grew too great to hold on. Teeth on her neck sent a shock wave down her back. He nibbled his way to her collarbone, sucking, caressing her skin with his tongue. She shifted in his lap, feeling his need grow. He cupped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her lips to his again for another taste.
“Garrett? I want us to make love so thoroughly our pasts can’t touch us anymore. Do you think we can do that?”
Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back. For a second, she thought he would deny the possibilities, but he tightened his grip around her shoulders and legs and stood. He carried her toward the bedroom.
She pressed her mouth against his neck, savoring his salty skin. A chill swept over her when he placed her in the middle of the bed. The cold from his absence remained until he removed his shirt, and then his pants.
Heat spread.
The sense of freedom descended.
He indulged and tickled and touched and tasted. She wanted him inside her so she could show him the truth about the kind of man he’d become. “Now. I want you now.” She reached for him. “You’re so beautiful.”
“No. We’re beautiful together.”
Unafraid, and without a smidgeon of doubt, she opened her heart, letting all her emotions show him how much she loved him. How she didn’t care about his past.
The possibility to connect permanently seemed unlikely, but she would accept what he offered and revel in it. Not wanting to think, she allowed him to take control. Allowed life, this moment, to give her meaning. Give him meaning.
Not fight the past.
Embrace the present.
And give strength to the other.
She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers brushing his short hair. The way his skin caressed hers felt amazing, like his inner bad boy had come out to play, but he held back. Lightly sinking her teeth into his shoulder, she got his attention and he, her meaning. The intimate pain had the desired effect. His tongue, which had been tracing her lower lip, plunged into her mouth. Searching. Exploring. Pulling in and out.
Someone groaned, most likely her. She arched her pelvis higher, searching for a connection.
Hard and hot, his body felt fabulous, and those deft, knowledgeable surgeon’s hands found those hidden places that sent sizzles along her nerves, dizzying her with need. He tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back so he could trace the edge of her ear with his tongue, and then move on to her neck. She whimpered with delight, tightened her hands around the nearest body part, and pulled.
“More. I want more.”
He studied her with a gleam in his eye. “Not yet.” She pushed at him. “Patience,” he said, humor sparkling around the edges of his voice.
Her heart revved in her chest, threatening the need to control her breath. He trailed his fingers down her ribs, pausing here and there to set off fireworks along her nerves. Her stomach muscles quivered. A fingertip circled her belly as if waving hello to the baby. Their baby.
“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll take over.”
With a predatory grin, he leaned closer and blew hot air in her ear, murmuring, “Try it.”
When he trapped her hands above her head to prevent her from touching him, she lifted her head to reach any body part. There was no fear, only desire. The feel of his warm skin on hers created an intense, blissful state. His tongue circling her puckered nipple made her shiver and twitch. Pure heaven. He released her hands and inched lower. Every muscle was sedated. She couldn’t move if she wanted to.
He smelled of summer, the strong, sun-warmed smell of green grass and deep-rooted trees. His strength surrounded her, brought her peace and happiness.
She let the mattress absorb their weight, and the healing begin.
Chapter 26
Garrett gave George his breakfast and a scratch. “There you go, buddy.”
“Good morning.” A sweet, groggy voice drifted from somewhere down the hall. He stood and glanced over the counter.
“You’re dressed. And shaved. And looking mighty handsome, I must say.”
When McKenzie came close enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thanks.” He leaned in and sampled her mouth, nibbling her lower lip. “I would like nothing better than to stay, but I need to be at work in an hour. I’ve got a surgery scheduled.”
“Anything serious?”
“All surgeries are serious, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Just what any patient would want to hear their doctor say.” She reached around to his backside to nudge him closer. “Dinner?”
Now he understood drug addiction. She was a drug he needed daily, and when he didn’t get a dose of her, a shivering disorientation rocked his life. He used to feel the adrenalin rush when working, but after the medical suspension, his priorities had shifted. The point about what he would do when his medical practice finished had him thinking. Thinking about how to re-balance his priorities.
“I can’t. I’m on call.”
The disappointment on her face couldn’t be any clearer, but she said nothing and looked away. Her bottom lip even protruded slightly. Nibbling on that cute little lip felt tempting. He put a finger on her chin to move her head back and align their eyes. “How about you bring me Burt’s Bagels tomorrow for breakfast?”
No one could make his heart pitty-pat as she could. That bright white, sexy grin ate at his willpower to resist gathering her in his arms and spending the rest of his life with her.
Resisting, he released her and forced his legs to create some distance. “What’s on your agenda today? A little painting? Or an advertising design that would make companies run out and buy the next Carver medical gadget?”
“I’m working on a project Weston suggested. It’s rather complicated, and I want to get it right.”
Her eyes got that faraway look as if she’d already disappeared into her imaginary world of painting. Did her imagination reveal itself in different shades and colors? “Hmmm. Sounds like a challenge.”
“I almost forgot. I need to meet Liam for lunch.” She pushed an envelope in his direction. “While you were gone, he drafted some papers.”
“Papers?” He peeked in the folder filled with legal documents.
“Liam thought it would be a good idea to get the formalities out of the way. He’s the family lawyer, but had a college friend draw up custody documents. He said the guy’s good, fair, but suggests you get a lawyer to look them over.”
He dropped the packet like his fingers had been burned. Anger in his gut churned and burned all the way up to his throat. He couldn’t swallow the acid eating through his patience. After last night and all he’d confessed, baring his soul, she hit him with this?
Legal papers couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—define how to properly raise his child. Shit happened. If every time the baby needed a baseball glove or summer school or, heaven forbid, major surgery, a document needed to be referenced, how could he help raise a child? The child, not the paperwork, needed to be the primary guiding factor.
“I’m not signing them. I don’t see the point.”
Hurt or confusion—he couldn’t tell which—made her e
yes dart between him and the documents. “Why? It will protect you as much as it protects me.”
“The answer is no. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” She reached for him. “Let’s talk about this now. I don’t want you to leave angry. I want to understand.”
“I need to go.”
“Okay. I understand. You have a child to save. You get to be a superhero.” She tugged on his arm. “Come on. Smile for me. I don’t like seeing you upset, especially if you have something important to do.”
Maybe she did understand. A slow breath escaped like the air out of a tire. But the fact remained. She still didn’t want him in the permanent kind of way that he wanted her, and custody papers would only temporarily bind them. The rejection stung. His childhood insecurities wrapped shoelaces around his ankles and made him take a mental nosedive.
“We’re okay,” he said patting her hand enough to get her to release her hold. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“I can come to the hospital. Check in. See how you’re doing.”
“There’s no need. I’ll be busy with rounds and catching up on paperwork.” And anything else I can do to keep busy and avoid coming back here to make love to you until you can’t think about stupid custody papers.
“Don’t forget to text your sister. When I got up for some water, I saw a message come in.”
“You checked my phone?”
Her brows slid together, and her eyelids closed and clenched as if she were in pain. When she opened her eyes again and met his, she drew in a long, patient breath. “It’s not my intention to make you mad, or upset, or angry. I’m trying to help. If you don’t want to sign papers, then we won’t sign them. I don’t know what I can say to make this tension go away.”
The pleading desperation in her eyes made him examine his reactions. After the confession last night, he assumed the old baggage would have been emptied and put away in the closet. Obviously, hanging out his dirty laundry hadn’t completely cleaned out the bag. Keeping the past in the past might require a few more applications.
He opened his arms. “Come here.”
She wrapped around him fitting perfectly into each crevice like a key into a lock. She opened his heart and allowed the healing to begin.
“Maybe you can stop by in the morning with some bagels. It shouldn’t be as hectic then. Now I absolutely must go,” he said, but the craving to stay only made leaving worse.
“Play nice with the children. Share your toys, dear, just not the sharp, pointy ones,” she said while handing him his backpack.
I love you, he breathed silently on his exhale, too afraid to say the words out loud. Maybe someday she would be able to accept him as not just the father of her child, or a friend, or a lover, but as a partner. A soul mate.
“See you at breakfast,” he opened his wallet and threw a couple of twenties on the counter. “Would you mind bringing enough for Beth and the nurses? I don’t want to get labeled as manure again. Last time, I think it was cow’s dung…or was it chicken poop? Not sure.”
“Lovely.” She laughed.
“Don’t forget to chain the door. I want you safe.” He closed the door and pushed the elevator button. He heard the apartment door open as the elevator doors slid open.
Turning, he pressed the lobby button. She stood waving. Her pajama top had crept up, and the bottoms hung low on her waist. Her hair, still messed from his lovemaking that morning, framed her adorable face.
Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought himself a kept man, but if she kept him with no conditions or documents attached, he could be hers forever.
Chapter 27
McKenzie looked at her watch, already aware that fifty-three minutes had passed since arriving at her favorite Hell’s Kitchen bistro. Rich smells wafted through the tight, intimate space.
When asked, she’d given the hostess Garrett’s last name, and then followed the paper-thin girl to a back corner table, a perfect spot to watch for him to arrive. She passed the time observing an elderly couple with their fingers intertwined, daintily eating their meal, deep in conversation. To them, the outside world had disappeared and left them privacy to pursue love.
She shook her head at a young couple across the aisle, both on cell phones, barely talking or looking at each other. She wondered if they knew what they were missing. The word foolish entered her thoughts before the memory of doing something similar crossed her mind. She envied the wise older couple for their intimate and long-lived, comfortable connection.
The server approached to fill her water glass. “Would you like more bread while you wait, Ms. Carver?”
Her stomach gurgled with enthusiastic hunger. The empty bread basket winked at her, but she’d promised the doctor to watch her weight.
“I’m fine for now, Jimmy. Would you come back in fifteen minutes if Doctor Branston hasn’t arrived? I’ll place my order then.”
Garrett would be late. Even when or if he arrived, he’d be on call and might have to leave. She hoped for a few minutes of quality time. Over the past three months, she’d gotten used to his odd hours and sporadic schedule. She never thought she’d settle for second place, but if it meant coming in second to a hospital or sick child so she could have Garrett in her life, she’d take the sliver of time and be very, very grateful for it.
Since returning from California, he seemed a changed man. He laughed easier, made jokes, seemed more playful. And when the mental grind of the hospital became too much, he came home to her. Together, for a few hours, they shut out the world and inhabited a magical place.
Tonight, she’d stepped into a time warp, taking her back to a time of innocence. That giddy, fanciful feeling of meeting a boy and seeing life through love goggles reminded her of being seventeen. She checked her dress one more time. In the process of rubbing lipstick from her teeth, she paused, recognizing his broad shoulders. A rollercoaster thrill raced up her spine.
The hostess rounded the corner and pointed at her. She raised a hand to wave.
“Sorry I’m late. You look stunning,” he greeted her, his lips brushing over her mouth.
Her restless hands checked her hair and earrings before smoothing the lines of her dress once again. She noticed he’d missed a spot shaving, but that didn’t matter. “And you are looking mighty fine. Love the buttercream tie.”
His hand automatically straightened the knot. Weston’s comment about Garrett’s lacking an appropriate wardrobe hadn’t sat well. The guys had disappeared one day, only to arrive back at the apartment with boxes and suit bags. The latest acquisition suited him perfectly.
“How was your day?”
“Crazy busy. Have you ordered?”
“Not yet.” She lifted her hand, catching Jimmy’s eye. When they both ordered their usual favorites, she chuckled. So much the same, yet so different.
“What did the pediatrician say?” He reached for her hand.
“Stop worrying. The baby’s fine. I’m fine.”
“What about the headaches?”
“I’m a little dehydrated.”
He picked up his water glass and placed it next to hers and eyed both full glasses until she took a sip.
“My glass has already been refilled once, so stop.”
“I got you something.” He rummaged around in his pocket, and then set a square box in front of her. “I was going to hold off until after dinner, but I can’t wait.”
Hope and a tinge of fear set her stomach in motion. The little square box contained enormous potential.
His face, his anxious excitement made her feel the same.
Of course she’d say yes. Tingles rolled up her leg and through her chest as she touched the blue velvet box. She tugged at the silver strings, and then opened the box.
She inhaled. The excitement tumbled out of her in disappointed waves. On the little white silk pad lay a platinum baby shoe, complete with a small buckle across the top.
He pointed to the charm. “Do you like it? There’s a ne
cklace underneath the white thingy.”
“I love it,” she fibbed, picking up the box, poking the little shoe with her finger. She focused on veiling the ache and wished Jimmy or someone would provide a distraction.
“I had our initials put on the bottom of the shoe.”
With her fingernail, she lifted and confirmed his statement. She crossed her legs, pulling them back underneath the chair, and sat taller.
She couldn’t complain. He’d said he would never marry—reinforced the message several times. So why did she expect him to produce a ring? For a Carver, she’d sure gotten a small helping of common sense. Liam was the same when it came to marriage. The only way to get him to the altar would be in handcuffs and chains.
She picked up her water glass and took a long drink, hoping the ice water would numb the crushing disappointment.
“What are you thinking?” He reached for her hand, his eyes serious.
“That I’m a very lucky girl.”
Retrieving the box, he lifted the pillow, slid the delicate chain from underneath, and then slipped the charm free of the lining. He stood and moved behind her to wrap the fragile piece around her neck, and then straighten the pendant. “Have you thought any more about the custody papers?” he asked while taking a seat across from her.
Boy, he sure wanted to throw punches tonight, hitting her with a right and left. They had talked about custody—pulling and stretching the issue like saltwater taffy—but nothing ever got resolved. Since Liam took his position as the family lawyer seriously, he wouldn’t leave the issue alone. He did an excellent job reminding her of all the horrid, unplanned events that could happen.
“I told Liam I didn’t care if you signed the papers, but you know my brother. He can be rather tenacious. I wish he’d stop pushing.” She wanted Garrett to have full access to the child. Liam wanted to take a more conservative approach. In the end, she’d refused to decide. “He still insists we document what’s what up front, and he still recommends getting a lawyer to protect your interests.”
