by Selena Kitt
“I’m sorry, darlin’, but I’ve got to run too,” Jody said, her voice filled with regret. Carrie saw Jody’s gaze moving over Doc in his button-down white shirt, tucked neatly into his khakis. Her husband was a very handsome man, and Jody, like Carrie, was bisexual. They’d had that discussion too, several times, about their preferences, or lack thereof. Carrie thought of her sexuality as fluid—she loved who she loved. Gender didn’t have much to do with it. And it seemed that Jody was very similar.
“Maybe next time, though?” Jody offered as Carrie reached for the computer.
“Bye Jody,” Carrie whispered, giving her a pointed look before closing the laptop and cutting the connection.
“I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” Doc sat on the edge of the bed, watching Carrie put the closed Mac on the night table.
“It’s fine.” Carrie shook her head, sitting and wrapping her arms around his neck. “We were done. And Jody had to go, so…”
She kissed his cheek, trying to make her heart return to some semblance of a normal beat. It was hammering in her chest like a race horse.
“Mmm, you’re going to have to give me a blow by blow later.” His gaze skipped down to her nude body where the blankets had fallen away, exposing her breasts.
“Literally?” she teased, sliding a hand up his thigh.
“Hell, yes.” His eyes lit up and he grabbed her, pulling her into his lap. She squealed and laughed, hanging into him.
“What are you doing home so early?”
“Last of my patients cancelled.” His hands roamed over her nude body, so warm and familiar, they made her tingle. “And I decided to come home and take my wife out to a nice dinner. But I might just stay here and eat in…”
His hand moved between her legs, cupping her still-sensitive, swollen mound. She shivered.
“Well I’m hungry,” she announced, wiggling in his lap. “And I’m in the mood for lobster.”
“You have such expensive tastes,” he scolded, his hand moving slowly, massaging her. She moaned softly, kissing his neck. “It’s a good thing I can afford it.”
“Does that mean you’ve decided to buy the practice?” she asked, cocking her head at him.
“Not yet.” He sighed. “But I do have a surprise for you.”
“You do?” She perked up.
“I want you to cancel any clients you have this weekend.”
“Oh.” She blinked at him in surprise. “I was supposed to have an open house...”
“Have Marcy do it.”
“What are you up to?” She laughed.
“Pack a bag.” He waggled his eyebrows, grinning. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”
“Doc!” She gasped when he dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth.
“It’s time to get on board that ship,” he murmured and then licked around her areola, tracing it with his tongue.
“Are we going on the Love Boat?” She sighed happily as he cupped her other breast. So what if she was imagining Jody there too? It was just a fantasy, right? And Doc didn’t mind. He encouraged her fantasies.
But if he knew…
“That’s right baby,” Doc said, turning and tossing her onto the bed, spreading her legs and settling between them. Carrie moaned as he parted her pussy lips and started his appetizer before he took her out to dinner. She heard his words, but they were muffled. “Me, you and a great big Love Boat.”
* * * *
“That’s a Mustang.” Carrie stared at the convertible as the dealer drove it up, top down in the September sunshine. It was unseasonably warm today. They’d actually had flurries the weekend before.
“Is that why you cleaned out the car last week?” She blinked at Doc, who put an arm around her shoulder, grinning like a fool. “Did you trade in your Lexus?”
“Yep.” He nodded, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “She’s all ours. What do you want to call our new baby?”
“Doc!” Carrie knew she should have played the role of shocked, appalled, worried wife, but she just couldn’t. Instead, threw her arms around his neck, squealing in delight. “You bought a Mustang!”
He laughed, hugging her close and swinging her around for good measure, planting a brief but very hot kiss on her lips, in spite of the fact that the dealer was watching them in the rearview mirror.
Buying a Mustang was one of those “typical mid-life crisis” things they’d talked about but had decided not to do, even after the kids were grown and gone. They both lived near enough to Detroit to appreciate car culture, and they had gone to the Woodward Dream Cruise every year to look at all the hot muscle cars that cruised up and down the strip. And they both were in agreement that the Mustang was the pinnacle of all muscle cars. The new Chargers might come in a close second, but nothing beat the Mustang.
“Doc... how did you afford a Mustang?” She stepped away from him to reach out and touch the car’s sleek backend as the dealer got out of the driver’s side. “Holy fuck—Doc! This is a Shelby!”
She actually felt faint for a moment and he slipped an arm around her waist before her knees could give way.
“Shelby GT500,” the dealer agreed. Doug had sold them their Windstar, back when she was chauffeuring the kids around in a minivan. He was grinning almost as big as her husband. “Like the color?”
“Electric blue.” She laughed. If it had been her, she probably would have gone with black or red, but Doc loved that electric blue.
“Baby’s loaded.” Doug slapped a hand down on the spoiler and Carrie winced. The car had to cost a fortune. Probably more than their house, when they first bought it! “Nineteen-inch, forged aluminum wheels, voice-guided navigation, HD radio, leather seats, the works!”
“The works.” She swallowed, blinking at her husband. “How can we afford this? Did you lease it?”
“Nope.” Doc couldn’t stop grinning. “Bought and paid for.”
“Did you sell a kidney?” Carrie balled her fist up and pinched him in the arm. “You better start talking, mister!”
“Ow!” Doc grabbed his bicep, pretending to cringe—she hadn’t hit him that hard. “That’s part of the surprise!”
“Did we win the lottery?” Carrie shook her head at Doug as he held out the keys. “Oh, no, I’m not driving it. Not until I know how he paid for it.”
“Just trust me, and get in.” Doc reached around and gave her bottom a hot little squeeze. “We’re going to brunch with Gordon.”
“Gordon.” Carrie blinked at him, frowning. “Gordon, our accountant—that Gordon?”
“That’s the one,” Doc agreed, taking Doug’s outstretched hand and shaking it. “Thanks, Doug.”
“Enjoy it, man.” Doug handed over the keys to Doc, if a little reluctantly. He looked at the car longingly like he wanted to take it around the block for another spin. He probably thought he still looked like a young kid driving around in it, instead of the slightly balding fifty-year-old man he was, with a slight paunch hanging over his belt. “If you need anything else, just call me.”
“Will do.” Doc popped the trunk, glancing in at the bags—Doc’s duffel bag and Carrie’s overnight carrier. “Thanks for putting our stuff in.”
“Going on a trip?” Doug asked as Doc got into the driver’s side. Carrie opened the car door, hesitating. Was this really their car? Was she dreaming?
“Shh.” Doc put a finger to his lips and winked at Doug in the rearview mirror. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”
“Have a good time!” Doug waved as he headed back toward the dealership, looking a little morose. Carrie couldn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to go back into the office either, after taking this thing for a ride.
“I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises today!” She slid in beside her husband, laughing at his goofy grin.
“Oh you can,” Doc assured her, putting a hand on her bare knee. It was warm enough to wear a sundress, and so she had. “And you will.”
“Doc...” She shook her head, b
reathing in. That new car smell. It was almost as good as the smell of a newborn. “This car...”
“Our new baby.” He winked, sliding his hand further up her thigh. “What do you want to name her?”
“Blue...” she mused, running a fingertip over the edge of the mirror, smiling at herself in it. She looked flushed and happy. Ecstatic even. That made her smile even more. “How about Betty Blue?”
“Betty Blue it is.” He slapped his door, as if christening her.
“Doc, this is crazy.” Carrie wiggled in her seat as his hand met the crotch of her panties under her sundress.
“Nah, this is living.” He reached over with his other hand, grabbing her seatbelt and yanking it toward him. “Buckle up, baby.”
“You planning on speeding?” she asked as she locked the seatbelt.
“Hell yes.”
He peeled out of the car dealer, leaving long black streaks on the pavement.
Chapter Three
“Gordon, good to see you.” Doc shook the man’s hand as they took chairs opposite their accountant.
Carrie’s stomach growled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that very moment. She’d been too excited to eat much that morning—just yogurt and granola—but the smell of barbeque permeated the restaurant, making her mouth water, even it was only eleven in the morning.
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Baumgartner.” Gordon gave her an appreciative look as she sank into the chair beside her husband.
Gordon couldn’t looked less like an accountant if he tried. His bushy hair was long, almost touching his shoulders, and he had cornbread in his big, brown beard already, she noticed. An eyebrow piercing, a silver ring, winked at her, and he sported several tattoos, some of them on his hands and fingers, where he wore several big, silver rings. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt—the suit jacket he had slipped was the only nod he made to his profession, and with his big frame, he looked like he was going to burst out of it at the seams like the Hulk at any moment. He was more biker than accountant, truth be told, but Doc said he was the best money-man he’d ever met, and the way Gordon had handled their investments so far had proven him correct.
“How are you, Gordon?” Carrie slung her purse over the back of her chair, seeing the way his gaze dipped to her cleavage. She had the feeling Gordon was a bad boy once upon a time, but she didn’t know his history. She saw him once a year when they had their taxes done, and that was about it.
“Thanks for meeting me here.” He slathered butter on another bit of cornbread. “I’ve had a taste for barbeque for a month.”
“Best barbeque in the city, no doubt about that.” Carrie smiled, watching crumbs fall into his beard as he bit into what was also the best cornbread in town. Beans and Cornbread was tucked out of the way, a Detroit gem that served authentic soul food with the most important ingredient—real love in every bite.
“How are things over at Minsk, Federer & Federer?” Doc leaned back in his seat, putting an arm around the back of Carrie’s chair and pulling it closer. The other Federer was Gordon’s father, who was the sole reason he could go into the office looking like he did.
“Not as good as your investments, lately, Doc.” Gordon shook his head taking a gulp of his soda.
“Our investments?” Carrie looked between them, puzzled. “What’s going on?”
“What can I get you folks?” The waitress pulled a pen out from behind her ear, holding it poised above a notepad, and Gordon gave her an appreciative look, too. She was a very pretty black girl, although Carrie wasn’t sure she was quite legal yet. That didn’t keep her from flirting with Gordon, however.
Both Doc and Gordon ordered a full slab of ribs. Carrie opted for the Louisiana style gumbo and a garden salad. And cornbread of course. Couldn’t go to Beans & Cornbread and not get the cornbread. That would be like going to Dairy Queen and not ordering ice cream.
“All right,” Carrie said after the waitress had dropped off Doc’s lemonade and her water. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Somebody better tell me what’s going on.”
“Tell her, Gordon.” Doc sipped his fresh lemonade, trying to hide that Cheshire cat smile.
“A few years ago, you invested in a new pharmaceutical company.” Gordon sat back in his seat, stroking his beard. It was a very Freud-like gesture, but Gordon wasn’t. “I advised your husband against it, actually. Big pharma is, well—big. There are just a few real players out there. New companies are a risky investment.”
“No risk, no reward.” Doc put down his lemonade, looking a little bit smug.
“Well, it paid off,” Gordon admitted. “They developed that new boner pill, the one giving Viagra a run for its money.”
“Oh, that Viralon!” Carrie perked up. “I see the commercials all the time. They’re practically porn.”
“Probably one of the reasons they’re selling so well.” Gordon snorted, sitting back as the waitress put his slab of ribs in front of him. He gave her a smile and a little wink. “Anyway, this company’s probably going to get swallowed up by one of the big boys eventually, but right now, their stock has gone through the roof.”
“So, what does that mean?” Carrie asked, dipping cornbread into her soup and smiling at the waitress as she put down another glass of water.
“That means you have quite a bit more money to invest for your retirement.” Gordon wiped barbeque sauce from his face with a napkin, but he didn’t get it all. A man with a beard probably should never eat ribs in public, Carrie thought with a smile.
“How much more?” she asked, imagining it was about the price of a Shelby Mustang GT500.
“About 3.7 million,” Gordon told her, calmly licking his fingers.
“What?” Carrie breathed, sitting back in her seat like someone had punched her in the gut. “I... what?”
“But don’t spend any of it!” He waved a saucy, scolding finger at them both. “You need to reinvest it.”
“Too late.” Carrie let out a little laugh when Gordon’s eyes widened. “Want to come meet Betty Blue?”
“Who?” Gordon frowned at her, then at Doc.
“The electric blue Mustang convertible Doc just bought.” She met her husband’s dark, devilish eyes and laughed. He had always liked to splurge whenever they came into a little windfall. But the last time they’d really indulged, Doc had gone in on the time-share they owned in the Florida Keys.
“Aw man...” Gordon shook his bushy head, spooning up the juice from his baked beans.
“Hey, a man can’t live by investment alone,” Doc said through a mouthful of ribs.
“Well, I’d like you to play it a little safer.” Gordon had gone through his ribs like a Tasmanian devil and opened a wet-nap to wipe his fingers. “I want to see your money in a managed risk, recession proof, diversified portfolio. Something you could live on into your old age.”
“You got it, Gordon,” Doc assured him. “After this weekend.”
“Fine.” Gordon looked askance at him, like it wasn’t fine at all, but what could he do? “You get one weekend. Don’t spend it all.”
“Oh, I won’t.” Doc wiped sauce from his face. “Betty was my money shot.”
Carrie smiled at that, finishing the last of her soup and starting on her salad. The waitress came over to ask if they needed anything else.
“Just the bill,” Gordon told her. “And I wouldn’t object if you wrote your phone number on it.”
The waitress laughed. “But my husband would.”
Carrie did a double take at that, surprised. Obviously she was older than she looked!
“Aw. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Gordon gave her another wink as she cleared Doc and Gordon’s plates—there was no food left on either.
“So where are you going?” Gordon asked, leaning back in his seat with a groan, a hand pressed to his belly. He wasn’t fat, exactly, but he was definitely a big guy.
“Petoskey,” Doc said, finishing his lemonade and smacking his lips.
Carrie met her husband’s gaze, raising her eyebrows. This was the first she’d heard about where they were going.
“Well, at least it isn’t Paris,” Gordon mumbled, taking a toothpick out of the holder on the table. “Why Petoskey?”
“That’s where my parents went on their honeymoon.” Doc looked over at his wife and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. She’d never met another man who could make her insides do that like he could.
“Oh, Doc...” She smiled, feeling his hand on her knee under the table.
“All right, you love birds have a great time.” Gordon stood as the waitress brought the bill over. He took it from her, glancing at it. “But I mean it—let’s not go overboard with the spending. We’re going to make that money work for you, got it?”
“Got it, Gordon.” Doc half stood to shake the big man’s hand, reaching back to dig his wallet out of his pocket. “Thanks for everything.”
“I got this, big spender.” Gordon waved him away when Doc went to give him their part of the bill. “See you later, Mrs. Baumgartner.”
“Bye, Gordon,” Carrie said, watching as he headed up to the front counter. She turned back to Doc, laughing at that smug look on his face. He was very proud of his little ruse. “You jerk! How long have you known?”
“Oh, a week or two.” Doc grinned.
“So you planned all this?”
“Yeah, well, I bought the car a week ago,” he confessed. “But the trip... that I decided on yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” She raised her eyebrows, taking a sip of her water. “What prompted that hasty decision?”
“Coming home, seeing you crying over that invitation.” His hand squeezed her knee.
“So stupid.” She sniffed, putting her water glass down.
“And it was the same day Brady told me he’s retiring,” he reminded her. “It just seems like it means something. Like... like it’s time for a change.”
“Road trip?” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, letting her sundress ride up a little higher.
“Hell yes.” Doc’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go, baby.”
* * * *