by Lori Foster
“So talk to her.”
“I can’t.” Remembering the way she’d laid rubber in the parking lot, he scowled. “She ran out on me.”
“So now you have her name. You even have her phone number and address.”
Removing temptation, Axel shoved the file toward Nora. “That’d be unethical in the extreme. Given her reaction here, I’d say she obviously doesn’t want to see me.”
“No!” Feigning shock, Nora gaped at him. “It can’t be. A woman who’d reject you? I’ll be disillusioned for life.”
“Ha ha.” But to set the record straight, Axel explained, “I sort of embarrassed her. By … sort of rejecting her first.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“She’s only twenty-one.”
“So?”
“I’m thirty-five, Nora. A sophisticated doctor. A seasoned womanizer.”
Nora rudely laughed.
“I am, damn it.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he muttered, “She’s barely out of high school.”
“I took her history, Axel. She’s twenty-one, totally legal by anyone’s standards. If you like her—”
“Like has nothing to do with it.” Lust drove him, nothing more. Pure, unadulterated, unfulfilled lust. “In fact, I’m not sure I do. Like her, that is.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Axel narrowed his eyes on Nora. Since marrying Cary, she’d gotten awfully cheeky. “The young lady has a temper that could flay a man alive. And she doesn’t moderate what she says. And she’s a …”
“A what?”
He pinched his mouth shut. Libby’s sexual history, or rather lack of history, was listed on her file, but he wouldn’t discuss that with anyone. “Never mind.” And then, “Her name is Libby. A pretty name, huh?”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Culligan is waiting on you. And if you’ve never waited naked in a paper sheet on a cold plastic table, then let me tell you, it’s excruciating.”
Axel knew that. He made it a point to be especially sensitive to the needs of his patients, and he went out of his way to make the ladies feel as comfortable with him as he could. He never kept them waiting, was always as gentle as humanly possible, and treated every woman with extreme respect.
Which meant his personal woes would have to go on the back burner for now. “Right. Let’s go.”
Nora shoved Libby’s file back across his desk with deliberate provocation. “Take care of business. Finish out the day. Then call her. If she tells you to lose her number, then yes, calling again would be a breach of professionalism. But until you call, until you give it a shot, you just don’t know.” And with that instruction, Nora left the room.
Knowing he couldn’t make a rational decision right now, Axel followed. And because he really did care about the women he treated, he succeeded in stifling all thoughts of Libby.
At least until his last patient left.
Then he sat down at his desk, picked up her file—and finally made up his mind on what to do.
At seven o’clock, with the sun still out and birds still singing, Libby curled into the corner of her open hide-a-bed, wearing a nightshirt, a rumpled sheet over her lap, only half watching the kick-ass movie she’d rented from the video store. She didn’t want to go to bed yet, but she didn’t really want to stay up either. She felt miserable. Cold on the outside, hot on the inside. Achy and mortified and mind-numb with the reality of what had happened.
Her toenails were now painted purple, she’d put intricate braids into her hair, and she’d given herself a facial. None of that had been distraction enough. An uneaten quart of cherry cordial ice cream sat on the end table, a soup spoon spiked into the middle. She’d meant to have a binge, but somehow, that didn’t really appeal either.
Moving to Timbuktu appealed. Changing her name and her identity appealed. Raping one very delectable doctor … No. She detested him, and the embarrassment he’d caused her. She really, really did. Sort of.
Blast it, she was lonesome. And soooo mad.
But it was red-hot, unbearable humiliation that she suffered from most of all.
Groaning aloud, she curled in on herself and for the millionth time relived that awful moment when Dr. Dean had stepped into the exam room. Her heart had shot into her throat and her stomach had bottomed out when those brown eyes she remembered so well had locked with hers—then skipped down her sheet-covered body.
Thank God her feet weren’t in the stirrups.
She hadn’t been sure about that part, if she was supposed to be ready when he came in or if he’d want to talk first. Luckily she’d decided to remain stiff and straight until instructed to do otherwise.
At first, he’d looked very much the doctor, professional but detached—then scorching recognition had flooded his expression. After she screamed.
She curled tighter, half laughing at herself, half moaning in tortured agony. She’d actually done that, screamed like a raving lunatic and ordered him out of his own office. Wearing no more than a sheet. Waiting for him to …
No! No, no, no. She was not going to keep thinking about it.
So she’d screamed. Big deal. Under the circumstances, screaming seemed a reasonable, perfectly understandable reaction to discovering his true identity.
Oh why oh why did he have to do that for a living? And why, out of all the docs in town, did she make an appointment at that one particular office? Once again, fate had dealt her a raw deal. She and fate were now on very bad terms.
There were no answers to the questions she’d already asked herself over and over again. She shoved back the sheet and padded barefoot toward the fridge to put the ice cream away before it melted. Halfway to her kitchenette, a knock sounded on her door. Never mind that it was Friday night. Never mind that she was a single woman at a very dateable age. She never got company, and she didn’t want any now. She continued on and shoved the ice cream into the freezer.
But ignoring her unwelcome visitor did no good because the knock came again and again until she stomped across the floor and flung the door open.
A potent, dark brown gaze captured her. “Hello.”
She actually stumbled back a step before forging forward again. “You!”
He leaned one shoulder on the doorframe and casually—like she wouldn’t notice—stuck his big, booted foot in the doorway so she couldn’t slam it on his handsome face.
“Yeah, me.” He gave her a quick once-over, frowning at her braids before meeting her gaze with a look of accusation. “You left without saying good-bye.”
Libby blinked at him in disbelief. He came to her dinky apartment because he felt slighted? What a buffoon.
What a sexy hunk of a buffoon.
She’d seen him at the party wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and at his office wearing the clichéd white coat and casual tie. Now he wore an ancient T-shirt with a football logo on the front and broken in, faded jeans that looked soft, comfortable, and casual.
No matter what he wore, he looked too delicious for words. “Trust me,” she told him, ignoring his inviting appearance, “I was hardly in the mood for friendly conversation.”
He looked her over again, slower this time, lingering in impolite places and making her wish she wore sweats and a thick housecoat. Suddenly he realized he was doing it and snapped his attention back to her face. “May I come in?”
“No. Anything else?”
His long, drawn out sigh fanned her face. “Could I at least apologize?”
Her eyes narrowed. “For what?”
Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, for making you scream.” And in a lower, sincere voice, “I’m sorry you were embarrassed. If it’s any consolation, I was plenty shocked, too.”
No consolation at all. “You weren’t naked and on a table.”
“No.” His mouth twitched. “But I’m a doctor. A professional. Despite our … association, I would have—”
Libby drilled his hard chest with her finger. “Not in this lifetime, bud.”
A
smile brought out golden lights in his dark eyes. “I understand. Again, I apologize. Now please, let me in. I want to talk to you.”
“Are you done apologizing?”
Wary, he said, “No?”
“You don’t know?”
He huffed. “All right. I’m sorry for calling you a baby, too. Obviously, despite the odd braids in your hair, you’re a mature young lady. But you are young and it threw me. I figured you to be much older.”
“Ignore the braids. I was bored. But on the inside, where it counts, I’m an old lady.”
He didn’t look like he believed her. “I haven’t been with anyone your age since I was eighteen.”
Exasperation exploded from her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re saying you’re into older women?”
“Experienced women,” he clarified. “Because I accept who and what I am—”
“And that is?”
“Not a conversation for your hallway.” He stiffened, put out and fed up. “Now let me in.”
Libby examined a fingernail. “You were apologizing?” she prompted.
Seconds ticked by while tension thickened in the air. “All right. I’m also sorry that I … well …”
“Left me hanging?” she offered, her temper flaring again at the awful memory. “Gave me a bite, but not the whole meal? Led me on? Implied false promises? Made—”
He bent and kissed her, hard and fast. “I get the point,” he growled, “and yes, I’m sorry for that, too.”
Libby went mute. Even that, a smacking kiss that lasted less than a nanosecond, and she was ready to invite him in.
Still leaning far too close to her mouth, he said, “It was a first for me, and it’s plagued me ever since.”
Libby licked her lips, and because he was close, she tasted his lips, as well. “Plagued you how?”
He stepped in, crowding her back with his big body and closing the door behind him. He smelled good, like aftershave and fresh air and hot male. His wind-rumpled hair made her fingers itch to touch it. His five o’clock shadow made her skin tingle, imagining how it’d feel.
He stared at her, filling her with the swelling warmth she remembered oh so well.
“In every way known to man.” He leaned back on the door, his gaze level, probing, saying more than his words could. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if I hadn’t blundered so badly. And most of all, I can’t stop thinking about how nice it likely would have been to make love to you.”
“Oh.” So maybe they were finally on the same track.
His hands closed over her shoulders, slowly dragging her closer. “And on that note … I’d like to help if I can.”
Chapter Four
Damn, she was sweet, Axel thought, watching the way her thick eyelashes lowered over her blue eyes and her lips parted. Sweet and so damn ready. He’d never tortured himself before. It sucked. But he felt a vested interest in her now. In a way, he’d gotten things started and now he felt compelled to involve himself further. He owed her that much.
The feeling was odd because, other than sexual satisfaction, he’d never really felt he owed a woman before. He stuck with experienced women who knew the score and wanted no more than he offered. He avoided virgins and young hopefuls, and kept a clear conscience because of it.
But not this time.
Libby slowly went on tiptoes, putting her mouth level with his. She clasped her hands around his neck and in a husky, take me voice, said, “What do you suggest?”
Oh, he had suggestions, all right.
No. Get a grip, Axel.
He caught her elbows and moved her back, putting some necessary space between them. That spontaneous kiss he’d planted on her mulish mouth was unfortunate. Sure, it had shut her up real quick, but it also gave her the wrong idea.
“As I started to say earlier, I know who and what I am.”
“So enlighten me.”
He intended to. “I’m a man who enjoys his freedom, a man who takes his job seriously, but not much else, including commitment. I would make a lousy significant other and an even worse husband.”
“Did I propose and forget about it?”
“No, but women your age—”
Her eyes narrowed, but he didn’t let it put him off.
“—they tend to get emotionally involved in physical relationships.”
“And naturally, you don’t.”
“No. Never. If you don’t believe me, you could ask my brother, Booker, or my best friend, Cary. They both succumbed to marriage years ago, but I like variety—in women and in everything else.”
“Bully for you. So what exactly is it you think to offer me?”
“Advice.”
She blinked. “Come again?”
“I’d like to offer you some advice.”
Her neck stiffened. Her shoulders went back—which drew his attention to her breasts, barely concealed by a cotton nightshirt with teddy bears decorating it. Christ, teddy bears?
“Advice on … ?”
Pacing away from her and her girlish—and somehow super sexy—nightwear—Axel finally noticed his surroundings. He stumbled to a halt. A bed. Right there, within easy reach. “Uh … Why do you have a bed in the middle of the floor?”
“It’s where I sleep.”
Had she been curled up, warm and cozy, when he knocked? He gulped. He glanced at his watch. “You were already in bed?”
With a shrug in her voice, she said, “Watching a movie.” She gave an evil grin. “About a woman who beats up men.”
Axel looked around and frowned.
“Yeah, I know, the place is small. The bed folds up to a loveseat, but since I never have company, I don’t bother with it very often.”
So she always had a bed, right there, in the middle of her floor? He cleared his throat and tried to put that cozy-looking nest of blankets from his mind. Facing Libby, he clasped his hands behind his back and tried to appear impersonal. “You came to me today for birth control. I assume that means you intend to become sexually active.”
“Wow. You are so perceptive.” Arms crossed and head tilted in a challenging way, she said, “So?”
Damn. She didn’t even deny it. He struggled for the right words. How in hell did fathers handle this stupid talk? It was harder than he’d ever suspected. “Since, as you claimed, I gave you your first orgasm, I feel responsible.”
Red-hot color flooded her face. “Good grief, you’re ballsy!”
“I know.” He shrugged, not really repentant since it was true. “But you did tell me it was your first—”
“I told you that when I thought things were going to happen between us. Since they’re not … They’re not, right?”
Say no, say no … Axel rubbed the back of his neck and spouted his well-rehearsed speech. “Young virgins have a way of assimilating sex with love. Since, like I explained, I’m not in the market for anything serious, I don’t want to mislead you.”
Disgust washed away her embarrassment. “Yeah, don’t mislead the poor dumb virginal child.” She turned away, heading for the door as if she thought he’d follow. “Rest assured, my private business is no business of yours. You owe me nothing. But in case you’ve forgotten, I already told you I wasn’t in the market for serious involvement either. I’ve got my life all planned out and some bozo with overcharged hormones doesn’t figure into things, even if he’s stupendous in the sack—which you sure as certain haven’t proved.”
She kept challenging him, and damn it, he kept rising to the challenge, in more ways than one. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t notice his Jones pushing against the stiff fabric of his jeans.
She went on, thankfully keeping her narrowed eyes on his face. “Between college and work and an uncle who wants me out of his life, I don’t have time for distractions, at least, not a distraction that takes more than a night or two.”
She reached the door and put her hand on the doorknob, looking at him expectantly. Axel stare
d back. Oh no, he wasn’t about to leave. Not yet.
“A night or two?” he questioned.
“That’s right.” She shrugged. “I’m twenty-one. Since Mom died six years ago, I’ve spent every available minute working toward independence. You might see me as a naïve babe, but let me tell you, doc, there’s nothing naïve about a fifteen-year-old girl left homeless.”
Fifteen. Damn. Overwhelming sympathy damn near choked him up. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to hug her and console her six years too late. “I am so sorry—”
“Don’t you dare.” She raised an imperious hand. “The last thing I want from you is pity. I don’t need it. My uncle eventually took me in so I had a roof over my head and food to eat.”
Eventually? What the hell did that mean? And she mentioned the basics, but had she been given love? Had she gotten all the things a young girl needed from her parents? Axel didn’t know, and looking at her set face didn’t tell him a damn thing.
Regaining his attention, she said, “But understand something here, doc.”
“Call me Axel.”
She did a double take. “That’s your name?”
He half grinned. “Afraid so.”
She ignored that to continue on her tirade. “Right. So anyway, Axel, I worked my tush off and graduated high school when I was seventeen. Thanks to my GPA, I earned several grants and scholarships, but not enough to pay for a four-year program to get my BSN. Because my uncle wanted me to feel financially responsible for good grades, he insisted that I pay half of my remaining college expenses.”
“You’re working your way through?”
“In a way. I took a year off before starting college and took any job I could find. Other than what I paid my uncle for room and board—”
“He charged you?” No way could Axel hide his incredulity. What type of abnormal relative was he anyway?
She rolled her shoulder. “Sure he did. I was still living with him then. But other than what I had to give him, I saved every dime until I made enough to get started. Working part-time has slowed me down a bit, so I have one more year of nursing school before I graduate. But don’t think for a single second that I’m going to let you or anyone else get in my way.”