Tyler stared at the bland tile ceiling and sighed. “A nice girl, a minivan, and parent-teacher conferences, huh? Sounds like a great ten-year plan. Too bad I wanted the loan sometime this decade.” He stood and gathered his papers. “Thanks for the honesty, if nothing else.”
“Wait,” Grady said when Tyler started to walk away. “Wait a week or so for the incident with Junior to blow over. In the meantime, keep the Harley on the back roads and the wild times to a minimum, and come up with a succession plan for Thoroughbred Construction. I don’t need an heir apparent, just some information about the management structure and who does what in your operation so my lending committee can understand they’re not investing in a one-man show, okay? Do those things and I’ll take your application to the committee again.”
Tyler swallowed and held out his hand. “Thanks, Grady.”
“Save your thanks ’til the loan’s approved.”
Forty minutes later, in the foreman’s trailer at the Lexington job site, Tyler watched Junior pace and sweat. “Jesus, Ty, I’m sorry about this whole mess. I know you weren’t hitting on Lou Ann. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time, ’cause I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, but once I sobered up, I knew you wouldn’t do something like that. Want me to go to Grady and explain?”
“Thanks, Junior, but no. Explanations won’t undo the lending committee’s impression of me as bad risk. I’ve got to show them that Thoroughbred Construction is a safe investment.”
His friend flopped down on the small sofa along one wall of the trailer, adjusted his ball cap out of habit, and looked up at Tyler with beagle eyes. “I don’t know how to repay you for not going to the cops, and convincing the pretty little doc not to call them either. If there’s anything I can do to— ”
“Get rid of the gun.”
“Done. I gave it to Grandpa.”
“Good choice.” Nobody ever accused the elder Tillman of being irresponsible. Junior’s grandparents had stepped in to raise their only grandchild while Junior’s parents had run around town like a couple of footloose twenty-somethings—exactly what they’d been in those days. Grandma and Grandpa Tillman never had a lot of money, but they’d always found a spot at the dinner table and a warm bed for Tyler whenever Junior had dragged him home, and had never made him feel like an unwanted stray.
“I know. I’ll have to pass a sobriety test and a gun safety quiz before Grandpa lets me so much as oil the damn thing. But what I really meant was what can I do to help you get the loan?”
“Funny you should ask. The bank wants an assurance that Thoroughbred Construction won’t go belly-up if I meet an untimely demise. You’re going to help me show them my business has a life of its own.”
Junior sat up a little straighter. “I am?”
“Yep. Effective immediately, you’re the assistant manager of Thoroughbred Construction. You’ll see a bump in your next paycheck to reflect the new title.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You know the ropes from initial bid through final punch list. You know the crew, the inspectors, who to call when a permit snags.”
“Well, sure, show me some plans, point me to the job site, say ‘build,’ and by God I’ll build it. But I’m no businessman. I don’t have a clue how to talk to clients, or, you know…lenders.”
“You’re going to learn, starting now.” Tyler pulled the loan application from his computer bag and tossed it to Junior. “We’re meeting with the Bluelick Savings and Loan lending committee in soon, to show them the depth of our management talent. Get familiar with the information in that application.”
Junior squinted at the stack of paper and then lifted the cover sheet as if he suspected a snake lurked beneath. For a moment he stared at the glossy cover sheet fronting the package, then scratched the back of his neck and looked up at Tyler. “Oh, buddy, you got the wrong guy. I’m no good with the dog-and-pony stuff. I can’t talk fast enough to convince anybody of anything.”
“Not true. You convinced me not to call the cops on you last Friday night.”
“Oh yeah. There was that.” Hunching his shoulders against the weight of the debt, Junior sighed and turned his attention back to the loan documents. “Speaking of fast talking, how’d you get Ellie to keep quiet?”
Tyler shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Chapter Four
Ellie tugged the last stitch free and ran the pad of her thumb down the slightly raised seam of the healing wound. Even under the bright, florescent exam room light, she could barely see where the stitches had been. “This is healing beautifully. You’ll only have a faint scar.” She resisted a completely unprofessional urge to run her hand over his entire butt. There was absolutely no medically valid reason for a tactile exam of his glutes.
“That’s a big relief, Doc,” Tyler drawled. “I’m real vain about that cheek.”
She rolled her stool back a couple feet to signal she was done. “Well then, you might try keeping it out of Junior’s line of fire.”
“That’s my plan.” He buttoned his jeans, then turned to face her and leaned back against the exam table. “Thanks for fitting me in so late in the day.”
“No problem.” Goodness, he was tall. True, at five-three, almost everybody topped her, but Tyler towered over her. Plus, he had those wide shoulders, and…was it her imagination, or did the exam room suddenly seem claustrophobically tiny? She stood and backed to the other side, where his chart lay on the top of a stainless steel cabinet. “I know you wanted to keep this little incident on the down-low, so having you come by after Melody left for the day struck me as a good idea.”
“That was nice of you, hiring Melody. I’m sure she can use the change of scenery about now.”
“Actually, she’s the nice one. I’m getting an organized, detail-oriented office manager for a fraction of what an established practice would pay her. I’m, like, her charity project.”
“Okay, see how you turned my praise around and aimed it at Melody? That’s nice. Add it to kindly digging a bullet out of my ass at two in the morning and not calling the cops on Junior. I don’t know”—he aimed his sexy smile at her—“you may have to face the fact that you’re a nice person.”
“We came to an arrangement on the not calling the cops thing.”
“Gonna hold me to that, are you?”
She couldn’t guess whether he was teasing her or looking to back out. Defeated by his inscrutability, she exhaled and admitted, “No. I’m not. What I said Friday night still stands. If you’re not into this, let’s forget the whole deal.”
The sexy smile shifted into the bad-boy grin she remembered from years ago. “Oh, I’m into it. Don’t you worry.”
She scribbled a note in his chart and told her pulse to stop fluttering. Before she could respond, his expression sobered. “I am grateful to you, though. Thank you for taking care of me and being discreet. Junior also sends his thanks and apologies. He wanted me to tell you he gave his gun to his granddad. Figured he didn’t need to be driving around with a firearm handy.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad Junior got rid of the gun.”
“Me, too. So”—he inclined his head toward the chart—“am I cleared for class?”
Restless butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She glanced at him from under her lashes. “Yes.”
Two Longfoot strides brought them toe to toe. He simply stared at her for a moment, then raised his hand and swept her hair behind her shoulder. “All right, then. A deal’s a deal. Lesson one, Friday at seven. I’ll come to you.”
She swallowed, nearly choking on her own spit when his strong, capable fingers unerringly found the tight muscles at the base of her neck and began kneading. Reminding herself this was her idea, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll figure out the lesson plan.”
“You do that, Doc. In the meantime…pop quiz.”
“Huh—” That’s as far as she got before Tyler’s mouth settled on hers. Such a small contact, but once again, it gene
rated instant, addictive heat. She gasped when his tongue traced the sensitive curve of her upper lip. The move melted her bones. She leaned into his strong, warm body for support. His hands cruised up her back, and the calm, logical voice deep inside her mind clicked off. “Yes!” flashed behind her eyelids in big, neon letters.
With no oversight whatsoever from her brain, her hands dove into his hair and held on, held his amazing, devastating mouth still on hers. A low, needy cry echoed from somewhere in the tile-and-steel exam room. Belatedly, she realized the inarticulate plea emanated from her.
Apparently Tyler understood, because he cupped the back of her head in his big hand and sent his tongue on a deluxe tour of her mouth. Each touch, slide, or deep, penetrating exploration shot staggering sensations to every pulse point in her body. Those unsuspecting destinations sat up and took notice. Her nipples contracted and her bra suddenly felt way too small for her nowhere-close-to-double-D breasts. Tension coiled low in her abdomen. She fought the urge to rub her thighs together to relieve the pressure building there.
Somehow, miraculously, he knew about the pressure. He slid one big, muscular thigh between hers, grabbed her backside, and hauled her against him. She practically whimpered with gratitude.
“Hey, Ellie, have you seen my…whoops!” Melody’s voice reverberated in the silence.
Ellie broke away, shaken to the core by the unexpected interruption and her reaction to his kiss. No kisses had swept her away like Tyler’s. Ever. Had he felt the same intense…heck, she didn’t know what to call it…jolt of awareness, sensory recognition, bone-deep need?
Hard to say. His expression revealed only lazy amusement as he loosened his hold and let her slide slowly down his body, releasing her a few beats after her feet met the floor. Something mischievous flickered in his eyes and she immediately marched herself into a mental cold shower.
“I’m so sorry,” Melody said, sounding more intrigued than apologetic. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“No problem, Mel,” Tyler replied, completely unfazed. “I was just heading out. See you Friday, Ellie.” With a final, unnervingly knowing look, he walked out of the exam room.
Melody managed to hold her tongue until the main door closed, but not a second more. “Why, Sparky Swann!”
“What?” Ellie smoothed her hair and tried to act unruffled, but damp panties and perky nipples didn’t do much for her acting abilities. Her body reacted to his skill—nothing more. Researchers could probably explain how the combination of thick black hair, riveting green eyes, and a slow, confident smile provoked some cascade of estrogen designed to fool the female mind into confusing a simple kiss with a merging of souls.
“What do you mean, what? You’re not back in Bluelick a month and I find you making out after hours with big, bad Tyler Longfoot.” She folded her arms across her chest. “How long has this been going on?”
“Is it hot in here?” Ellie fiddled with the neckline of her blue-and-white-striped top, and then, still stalling, brushed her palms over her white linen pants. “There’s nothing going on. It’s not what you think. He’s just…” Lord, how was she supposed to explain this? “He’s assisting me with a personal project.”
Melody grinned. “Uh-huh, right. You couldn’t find your tonsils so he stopped by to help you look for them. Search to be continued this Friday. If you want my advice, you should have him hunt for something really important, like your G-spot.”
“Ha ha.” Melody’s teasing struck a little too close to home. “Somehow, during all the years we spent as classmates, I never noticed your smart mouth before.”
“You were blinded by my good looks. But don’t worry, Ellie.” Melody’s playful smile straightened. “I know how to keep things to myself. As far as I’m concerned, people’s personal lives are theirs to advertise or keep in confidence as they see fit. Nobody’s going to hear a word about you and Tyler from me.”
Determined to downplay the episode, Ellie scooted past Melody. “That’s a relief, considering there’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh, now, I don’t know about that. What I saw just saw between you and Tyler looked like a whole lot more than nothing.”
Chapter Five
Ellie looked around her bedroom and mentally reviewed her checklist. Clean sheets? Check. Condoms? Check. Five chapters carefully flagged in her fully illustrated copy of The Wild Woman’s Guide to Sex: Tactics Guaranteed to Bring a Man to His Knees? Check. Having studied the guide immediately upon its arrival—via rush delivery, in all its plain, brown-wrapped glory—she’d already employed one of the tactics. She turned to view her reflection in the oval mirror atop her antique oak dresser, slipped out of her robe, and took a detached inventory of the woman staring back at her, dressed for “action.”
A black satin-and-lace bra boosted her normally unremarkable cleavage to almost opulent proportions. The imported lace teased her nipples to points with every subtle shift of fabric. It was, quite possibly, the most uncomfortable garment she’d ever worn. No, wait…her gaze dropped. That honor belonged to the matching thong.
Hands on hips, she pivoted to check the rear view. The line of satin dividing her derriere looked to be in the proper place, and there was really only one reasonable path for it to take, but it felt like a wedgie waiting to happen.
Pivoting again, she faced the mirror. The guide advised aspiring wild women to make their peace with the push-up bra and butt floss because…ta-da…the combination brought men to their knees.
She shrugged on her robe and tied the belt. She didn’t care about all men, just Roger. He was definitely worth the discomfort. Besides, she didn’t have the natural advantages of a Melody Merritt or a Lou Ann Doubletree. She needed all the help she could get.
Thankfully, a big dose of “help” was due any moment in the form of Tyler Longfoot. The sound of a motorcycle approaching confirmed the thought, and caused a winged migration from her chest to her stomach. She grabbed a tube of gloss from the dresser and retouched her lips with an unsteady hand.
Why so nervous? Was she afraid he’d laugh at her attempt to be sexy? Maybe…okay, yes. Silly, because while she really didn’t know him very well, she knew he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her feelings. The real worry was that they’d get into what she’d selected as the first lesson and he’d deem her a hopeless case.
Unlikely, she reassured herself, because she’d studied chapter 3 diligently. The guide claimed most men loved chapter 3 anytime, anywhere, with any degree of proficiency, so it made a fairly foolproof starting point. Hopefully. Maybe it was too conventional? Should she have started with chapter 13?
The chime of her doorbell ended her second-guessing. She rushed to the door, pulled it open, and stopped short. For whatever reason, she’d assumed he’d come directly from his job site, and had pictured him in work boots and dusty jeans. Instead he stood before her freshly showered and smooth-jawed, with a devilish gleam in his clear, green eyes. The clean, spicy scent of his aftershave enticed her almost as much as the rest of him.
“Oh, good, you’re here. Right on time. That’s helpful, because we have a lot to cover this evening.” Since she couldn’t seem to stop babbling, she gestured him in. “We should probably get started. My bedroom’s this way.” She laughed a little hysterically. “Of course you don’t need me to tell you. You already know the layout.”
“Whoa. Slow down, there, Sparky.” He snagged her arm and, with a tug, brought her swinging around until her chest bumped his.
Her heart thudded against her ribs. She took a step back and tried to figure out what she’d rushed. “I’m sorry. Did you want to…” What? What did guys like to do before getting it on? “Freshen up, or, was there something else you needed?”
His slow smile tightened her stomach. “Maybe I need a little wine and candlelight first, hmm?” Fingers toyed with the ends of her hair. “I’m not a windup toy, you know.”
He was teasing her, she felt certain, but still, she could be a good hostess. “Um, I have
some chardonnay in the fridge, if you’d like a glass. Could we put the candlelight off until next week? I need to see what I’m doing for this first lesson—”
His laugh cut her off, deep and rich and completely without taunt, but her hackles rose anyway. Here she was, organized, prepared, ready to get to work, and he was messing around.
“I actually wasn’t making a joke.”
Her outburst bounced off him. He trailed his fingers down her arm as if he enjoyed the feel of her skin. “I’m sure you weren’t. Look, Doc, I worked a long day, came home, showered, and got myself over here. I need sustenance.”
Sustenance? “You’re hungry?”
“Aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth to say no, but her stomach rumbled.
His smile deepened. “C’mon, Ellie, get dressed. It’s a pretty evening. Let’s take a ride over to the river and grab some dinner. There’s nothing wild about one of us passing out from hunger.”
“B-but I’m already prepared here. I’ve got fancy underwear on and everything.”
He cocked one dark eyebrow. “That so?” Big hands took her shoulders and turned her around. His mouth moved next to her ear. “I can’t wait to hear all about them over dinner. Go throw on a little dress and a jacket. I’ll wait in the front room.” One hand slid down her back, over her butt, and squeezed.
“Tyler— ”
“Hurry.” He gave her backside a playful swat and nudged her toward her bedroom.
…
When Ellie strode into her front room, Tyler rose from her dainty blue sofa and all the blood in his head flowed due south at record speed.
The deep purple dress she’d changed into hugged her tightly on top and dipped low enough in front to give him a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage. The short, fluttery skirt showed off a lot of leg—slim, silky legs he instantly pictured wrapped around his waist while the pointed heels on her mile-high sandals dug into his ass like spurs.
Private Practice Page 4