by Mia Madison
“Good.” He seemed relieved. “See you at nine, then?”
Horrifyingly, the phrase “it’s a date” almost slipped out of my mouth. God, that would’ve been embarrassing. Instead, I mumbled yes and headed up to my room to rest up, read more of that book, and change.
But in my mind I kept thinking—I wish it were a date.
Becca
“What’ll you have?” Owen asked from across the raised bar table.
“A glass of white wine, please.” I’d thought about it while I was showering and fixing my hair. I didn’t like the taste of wine all that much, but at least it sounded like a grown-up drink.
Owen ordered a beer and I watched him while he talked to the waitress. He looked so handsome. He was wearing his gray button-down shirt, the one that brought out the blue of his eyes so well. But no tie. The top couple of buttons were undone, which was nice. It reminded me of seeing his bare chest this morning.
We talked as we waited for the drinks, mostly about medical school. I asked him the questions I’d prepared, and we discussed the admission process, how to study for the MCAT, what to look for in a school, and more. Our conversation flowed easily through the first two rounds of drinks.
It was wonderful talking with him as equals. Or at least as adults, since he was already a well-established doctor, and I hadn’t even started studying to become one. But he made me feel it was possible. And for just one night, I put my father’s objections out of my mind. This was my chance to really talk about my dreams—and it was also a chance for me to spend quality time alone with Owen.
“Do you want anything else?” Owen asked. He’d gotten a third beer, but I’d declined another glass of wine earlier. I shook my head. “Good call. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
Damn. I guess that meant our night was over. Owen had already paid for the drinks and left a generous tip.
I could take a hint, so I stood up. “I’m getting pretty tired.”
Owen put his hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean you had to run off right this second. Or do you turn back into a pumpkin at…” he looked at his watch, “Quarter after eleven?”
His warm touch felt good on my forearm.
Owen stood up also. “It was a long day, though.”
“Yeah. Lots of packing and unpacking, too.” I shrugged my shoulders, feeling how tight they were. My back ached a little, too.
Owen noticed. “Are your muscles stiff?” I nodded, and he said, “Sit back down for a moment.” Carefully, I climbed back onto the tall bar stool, holding onto the waist-high table for balance.
He moved behind me, and I could feel the heat from his body through my dress. Then strong hands descended on my shoulders and I forgot everything else.
It. Felt. Incredible.
His hands were nimble and strong—perfect for a surgeon and even more perfect for shoulder rubs. I melted under his touch, my head lolling to the side. God, it felt amazing.
“Please don’t ever stop,” I moaned, and he chucked, a low deep sound near my ear.
“Your muscles really are tight. You should take a bath tonight.”
I closed my eyes and enjoyed his touch for a few minutes. Finally, I mustered together enough brain cells to speak. “Yeah, a bath sounds pretty good about now.”
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Owen said with a touch of irony.
My breathing quickened, and I looked back at him. “Is that an order?”
He shrugged as he grinned down at me. “Why not? Shall we make it official?” He sat back down and plucked a pen out of his pocket. On the back of a cocktail napkin, he scribbled out a prescription.
Patient’s Name: Becca
Rx:
1. Take a long, hot bath.
2. When finished go directly to bed.
3. Use relaxation techniques to assure quality sleep.
Prescriber’s Name: Dr. Hottie
I was blushing before he’d even signed it. He picked it up and blew on it as if to dry the ink. When I reached for it, he held it just out of my grasp. “I want to make sure you understand the instructions before you head off.”
I gulped, feeling my heart rate spike. He was always handsome, but there was something extra sexy about him when he was issuing orders.
“Step One—a long, hot bath. Really soak those tired muscles. Step Two—go directly to bed. Do not pass go. Just hop out of the tub, dry off, and climb into bed. Can you do that for me, Becca?”
His gaze seemed to reach inside me and get my blood churning. I understood all right—at least I think I did. If he’d wanted me to put on pajamas, he’d have said so. But he’d made it very clear that that wasn’t one of the steps. I let out a trembling breath of air. “Yes, Doctor.”
He frowned at me for a minute. “Do you want to do that for me, Becca?”
“Yes.” And I really did. His words excited me, but I appreciated him making sure I was okay with them.
“Good. As for Step Three, you’re not going to sleep well if you’re still tense. Hopefully, the shoulder rub helped, and the bath will as well. But try to relax your muscles before you go to sleep. Relieve all the tension in them. Have you ever done progressive relaxation?”
“No, what’s that?”
“That’s when you will each muscle to relax, one body part at a time. Clench your toes and then relax them, letting all the tension out of those muscles. Then your ankles. And so on, from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. Focus on releasing the tension in each part of your body.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice a whisper. That hadn’t been what I expected him to say.
Owen seemed to know that. His lips curved into a smirk. “And if you happen to know of any… other methods for relieving tension, perhaps for some of the middle areas of your body, I suggest you employ those as well. That’s part of Step Three, also.”
Oh my God. He was talking about—at least I think he was talking about—I mean, could it possibly be that he wanted me to do… to do… that? Our conversation definitely wasn’t a G-rated anymore. Part of me was thrilled, part of me was scared, and the rest of me was jumping up and down inside, saying “maybe this means he likes me!”
Owen didn’t give me the cocktail napkin prescription until he’d walked me back to my room. His blue eyes smoldered at me as he handed it over. “Are you sure you understand the prescription?”
“Yes.” My voice was barely more than a whisper, but I wanted this. I wanted to play this way with him.
“Good. And one more thing, Becca… I’ll expect a full report tomorrow.”
Oh God. As my mind swirled at that news, Owen leaned down and kissed me gently on the forehead.
Then he left.
The next morning, I didn’t see Owen until it was time to meet in the lobby. This hotel didn’t have a restaurant or a breakfast bar, and I’d slept too late to venture out and find some food.
I’d slept long and well. Very well. I felt like a million bucks today as I walked toward the lobby, a grin on my lips.
Owen was sitting on a couch by the door, reading a newspaper. A newspaper! That really proved that we were from different generations. But somehow I didn’t care. He was an amazing man, and by some miracle, he seemed to be interested in me.
“Morning, Becca. Sleep well?”
There was a suggestive note to his voice, one that made me simultaneously blush and grin.
“Very well.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Care to expand on that?”
Here? In the lobby? But I was saved from answering by a hug, one that nearly took me off my feet. Kristin and Mark had just checked out and were preparing to leave.
We spent a few minutes talking with them. Kristin introduced Owen to Mark, and they shook hands as Owen congratulated him. By the time they departed, we were running late and our conversation in the car was focused on the day ahead of us.
It was another long day, but this time, we were both rested. Plus, there was a certain sexual energy in the air, or a
t least it seemed like it to me. It was difficult to get tired when my heart kept pounding every time Owen looked at me or touched my hand or arm.
Luckily, we worked well together, and by the second presentation, we were functioning smoothly as a two-person team. Owen talked about the medical field as a career choice, and I talked about the hospital. I wasn’t a doctor, but I practically grew up at that place. No matter what my dad said, I knew Hawthorne Memorial backwards and forwards.
It was fun, working with Owen. He was very knowledgeable without being stuffy, unlike my father. Owen joked and teased and kept things light whenever he could. I began to envy his patients. I bet they loved him to pieces, especially the children.
By the end of the day, we were tired, but flushed with success. We agreed to meet for dinner at the same bar we’d had drinks in last night—it was the only option the hotel had.
I took extra care with my appearance, putting part of my hair up but leaving the rest to flow over my shoulders. In my opinion, my hair was my best feature, and I had an inkling Owen might like it this way.
I put on a dark button-down blouse and my black pencil skirt. It was business attire, but it looked nice enough. Hopefully it made me look older. I completed the look with black shoes and silver hoop earrings that used to belong to my mother. Having her jewelry on made me feel closer to her. If I closed my eyes and pretended, I could almost imagine her here, wishing me luck before my date.
At least I hoped like hell that this was a date tonight.
Owen was waiting for me at a booth at the back of the bar. He stood when I arrived, his eyes raking up and down me. Then he pulled me toward him, giving me a hug. His nose nuzzled my hair and I heard him inhale deeply. That seemed like a good sign.
We ordered right away since we hadn’t had time for lunch. Therefore, we didn’t get a chance to really talk until after the waiter had disappeared with the menus.
“You did well today,” Owen said.
For once, my face flushed with pleasure instead of embarrassment. “Thanks. So did you.”
Owen reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “And how about last night? Did you do well then?”
His meaning was pretty clear, and it made my pulse speed up. I bit my lower lip and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Finally, I nodded.
“Becca,” he said, pretending to scold me. “How am I supposed to know how to adjust your prescription next time if you don’t give me more feedback than that?”
Next time? Holy hell, what might he ask me to do next time? I was dying to know. But he wasn’t done putting me on the spot yet—and for some reason, that made me both blush and grin at the same time.
Owen lifted my chin with one long finger, making me look at him. “Let’s start simple. How was the bath?”
“Heavenly,” I said, without thinking. “It felt almost as good as the shoulder massage you gave me.”
“Good to know. And after the bath?”
“I did exactly what you said. Dried off and went directly to bed. Without passing go.”
“Without putting anything on, you mean.” His voice was low and seductive, but the direct gaze he gave me was electric.
Somehow, I managed to hold that gaze, staring into his piercing blue eyes. “Yes—without putting on anything else.”
“Good. Very good,” he said, shifting a little in his seat. “And did you try the relaxation technique we talked about?”
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
“Yes.”
“And did you employ any… other methods of relieving the tension in your body?”
I stared at him for along moment—it was like staring at an open flame. Finally, I blinked and looked down at the table. “Yes, I did.”
He let out a breath. “Excellent.”
Glancing up out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had a grin on his face. “What about you? Did you sleep well?”
“Very well. I thought about you,” he said, his gaze very direct as our eyes met again. “I imagined you in the bathtub… and in the bed. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“No,” I said swiftly.
He cocked his head to the side. “How does it make you feel?”
“Excited,” I said without thinking. “And… turned on.” God, had I really just said that to him?
He smiled, the gleam in his eyes making it impossible to look away. “I’m glad.”
Our food came. Despite the sexual tension a few moments ago, I was pretty hungry. Owen seemed to be too, and for a while we ate and talked about the next few chapters in the book he’d given me.
But once our meal was done and we’d both decided against dessert, I knew that the waiting period was over. It was time to play again.
Owen smiled at me as the waiter cleared our plates. Once we were alone again, he chuckled. “Only you could manage to look excited, scared, and adorable all at the same time.”
“I’m definitely both those things.”
“All three of those things,” he said, somehow knowing that I’d discounted the adorable part. “Are you more excited or scared?”
“Not scared, exactly… more like nervous. But definitely excited, too.”
“I can live with that if you can,” he said, chuckling again. The sound of his deep, rumbly laugh seemed to enter my ears and travel straight to my core.
“I can.”
“Even though there are all kinds of reasons not to take this further?”
He didn’t need to elaborate. I knew what the reasons were. My dad. Our ages. Being at very different stages in our professional lives. But mostly… my dad. I was pretty sure he’d react even worse to the idea of me being with Owen than to the idea of me studying medicine. “Yes.”
“Then I have something for you. Tonight’s prescription.” He held up a white square of paper between two long fingers. When I reached for it, he pulled it back. “Keep in mind, doctors don’t always know best—even though we think we do.”
“Got it.”
“So if you really don’t think this is the right—er, treatment for you, then you can always—“
“Just give me the prescription, please,” I said, a little in awe of my own words. It was quite the role reversal. Right now, he was the one hesitating, and I was the bold one. I smiled at his obvious surprise, and after a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“For you,” he said, finally handing it over. “You can get that prescription filled at any nearby hotel room.” Then he winced at his own words. ”Well, not any room, perhaps I should’ve said your room…”
“I get it. Now hush and let me read the doctor’s orders.”
“Why Ms. Miller, what’s come over you?” He winked and then nodded toward the paper in my hands.
Patient’s Name: Becca
Rx:
1. Lie down and run your fingers over your body.
2. Pretend that it’s my hands touching you.
3. Scream my name when you come.
4. Text me when you’re done.
Prescriber’s Name: Dr. Hottie
Holy crap!
My internal temperature seemed to double and I was pretty sure steam was coming out my ears. I could feel Owen’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t lift my face to meet his gaze. Clearly, our roles were back to normal because I was embarrassed again. Turned on. Excited. But too embarrassed to look at him.
He really wanted me to do that. Of course I’d touched myself thinking of him before, but this was different. This time he’d know I was doing it. And I’d know he was thinking of me doing it.
Finally, I risked a peek at his face.
“Too much?” he asked.
No. Yes. Maybe. But he was a good guy. If I seemed hesitant, he’d back off—and that was the last thing I wanted him to do. “Not too much.” I said it so quietly that I had to repeat it twice before he heard it.
“Good. Because I’m really going to enjoy the thought of you… filling that prescription.”
>
Now that was a euphemism I hadn’t heard before, I chuckled, and after a moment, Owen did too.
“That’s not usually something that sounds dirty.”
“Probably not,” I agreed.
After the meal was charged to our account, Owen walked me to my room, pausing at my door. I was very conscious of the hot man in front of me and the bed on the other side of the door behind me. But while I was ready—and eager—to play sexy games with him, I wasn’t ready to invite him inside my room. At least not yet.
“So… still got your marching orders?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice breathy. Owen was so close, his face inches above mine.
“Want a kiss for luck?”
“Oh yes.” With an eagerness that surprised both of us, I grabbed his collar, tugging his head down as he wrapped his arms around me. Then our lips met and it was pure bliss. Finally, I was in his arms. Surrounded by him. Touching him. Tasting him.
The firm pressure of his lips was perfect, and when I opened my mouth to let him in, he was gentle. Sensual. Quite unlike the slobbery kisses I’d gotten in the past from boys. Owen was a man. All man. I could feel proof of that pressing against my stomach.
He buried one hand in my hair as he devoured my mouth. His kiss felt endless, and I certainly wanted it to be, but as I started to grind my hips against his, he pulled back.
Blinking, I looked up at him. The look on his face was mixed. Part longing, part… something else. Not regret—at least I hoped not. But I wasn’t sure what it was.
“Shit. I’d better let you go before I really cross a line.”
“Yeah,” I said a bit dazedly. “Good night, Owen.”
“Except it’s not good night—at least not yet. You’re going to text me afterwards, right? We can say good night then.”
“Right.” Good thing I still had his prescription clutched in my hand. His kiss seemed to have erased every thought in my brain. “Umm… I’ll text you later, then.”
“Good. And Becca… enjoy yourself.”
He gave my shoulder one last squeeze and then headed off.