Close To Home (Westen Series)

by Ferrell, Suzanne

  A deep sigh escaped him as he crawled into Emma’s queen-sized bed, settled into the mattress and pulled the quilt up.

  Damn, the only thing that could make this bed feel better would be if Emma crawled in with him.

  The picture of Emma and the boys caught his attention as he reached for the light on the bedside table. His heart swelled with need. Deep in his soul he wanted them, Emma and her sons. They’d become as important to him as his own family. Yes, that’s what they’d become.

  His family.

  The problem lay in convincing Emma. He slowly smiled as he curled around her pillow, inhaling the scent of her once more.

  What fun that was going to be.

  * * *

  A cool hand touched his head and then the side of his face, awakening Clint from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes to see Emma’s cornflower-blue gaze watching him with concern. He gently grasped her hand. With a small tug he brought her fingers to his lips, kissing the tips and holding her near.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” A light blush colored her cheeks.

  “Oh, but you did,” he teased. “I think you’ll need some sort of punishment for your transgression, young lady.”

  Emma’s eyes twinkled. “Punishment? What kind of punishment did you have in mind, Doctor?” she teased right back.

  He pulled on her hand, drawing her slowly closer. “Perhaps a forfeit of some kind?”

  “A forfeit?” A hesitancy filled her voice, but Clint noticed she let herself be drawn in beside him.

  “A kiss?” He wrapped her in his arms, his lips hovering above hers.

  She smiled, touching his face with her free hand as he turned her onto her back. “Such a small price to pay for such a grievous offense.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers softly. “Ah, it was intentional awakening, was it?”

  “Oh, yes. It was.” She echoed his kiss with the softest of touches.

  “Then perhaps a larger forfeit would be in order.” With that he pressed her into the mattress and deepened the kiss. Suddenly the light, teasing banter between them disappeared. Desire took its place. Hot. Molten. Scorch-you-to-your-toes desire. Clint knew he couldn’t get enough of the sweet, musky taste and womanly feel of her. He also knew if he didn’t stop now, there would be no turning back.

  With great determination he forced himself to pull away. He rested his forehead against hers, his hand stroking slowly up and down on the soft sensitive skin of her inner arm.

  “Emma,” he whispered. “I want to make love to you, not because of a game or a challenge, but because I want you. If you only want to rest here in my arms for a while, tell me now. It may kill me, but I’m willing to wait for you and be content to hold you tonight.”

  Emma took a deep breath. She lifted one finger to rub softly across his lower lip, her azure gaze never wavering, never leaving his. “Make love to me, Clint. I’m tired of waiting.”

  He hesitated another fraction of a second. Groaning, he gathered her into his arms and claimed her mouth. With a moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck, letting the fingers of one hand thread into his hair. He took advantage of her parted lips to slip his tongue inside and explore her warm, wet, sweetness.

  Need for him consumed her. Arching her back, she parted her legs and thrust her hips against his hard muscular thigh.

  Clint slid a hand beneath her T-shirt to cup her breast, his thumb caressing the hard nipple back and forth.

  Desire coursed through her blood. Suddenly her clothes were too confining. Her skin needed to feel his against it. She needed to melt into him. She just needed him.

  Their fingers met and fumbled as they both worked to pull off her shirt. Another moan escaped Emma as Clint settled back down and the soft hairs of his chest caressed her breasts. Then he gripped her hips, crushing her to him.

  His lips left hers to trail down her chin, over her neck to suckle at the pulse against her collarbone. She arched her body, offering him more. He took the invitation, letting his lips travel across her smooth skin to capture one tight bud in his mouth.

  Yes. White-hot need shot through her.

  Clint fumbled at the buttons on her jeans then she felt the zipper scrape lower. Two pairs of hands pulled and tugged, shoving the material off her hips and legs. With a gasp, she surged her hips to the warm hand that settled between her thighs.

  “Emma,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Yes?” she mumbled through the fog in her brain. Desire coursed through her body.

  “The boys?”

  “Asleep.”

  He nibbled a trail to her ear. “Your mother?”

  “The Miller sisters brought her home while you were showering.” Her fingers crept into his hair, pulling him closer. “She went to sleep over an hour ago.”

  “Harriett?”

  “Gone home.”

  He gently pulled on her ear lobe with his teeth. “The door?”

  “Locked.”

  He pulled away to study her. “Locked?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She grinned at him then tried to recapture his lips with hers.

  “You locked the door?”

  A slow, hot blush crept over Emma’s beautiful body. He’d bet his life she’d never done something this brazen in her whole life.

  She wanted this as much as he did. That knowledge humbled and thrilled him.

  When she nodded and bit down on her lower lip, he let out a groan.

  “Oh, God, Em...” he said just before his lips dropped down to claim hers once again in another searing kiss, both hot and gentle, caring and demanding, promising her everything including the moon and the stars.

  Clint wanted to take her hard and fast. At the same time he wanted to be gentle.

  Her simple act of locking the door overwhelmed him. It told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It also spoke of the trust between them that had formed during the last few weeks. He had to make this night special for her—as special as she’d become to him.

  The world melted away. All that was left was Emma and the things he wanted to do to her body. He worshiped her with his hands and lips, wanting to blaze a trail across her and touch her in places he knew she hadn’t been touched in years.

  Then he remembered the condom he’d left in his soaking wet pants in the bathroom. The one he’d started carrying with him, just in case a night like this happened.

  “Emma, my pants,” he murmured against her lips. Her hands went to the waistband of his sweat pants. A deep chuckle rumbled through him. “No, Emma, not yet. I need...”

  “I need you, too,” she mumbled, kissing him and trying to lower his sweats.

  He knew she didn’t understand.

  “No, sweetheart. I need the condom in my jeans. You took them earlier.”

  “Bedside table.”

  Again, he leaned back to gaze at her. “The bedside table?”

  “Clint.” Frustration edged her voice. “I took it out of the pocket when I picked up your jeans for the laundry. It’s on the damn bedside table.”

  This time when he pulled away, he stood at the side of the bed, pushing off his sweat pants and reaching for the foil packet in one motion. A soft feminine purr came from the bed. Clint grinned at the approval behind that sound.

  Even still, his determination to make this special for her had his fingers shaking as he opened the packet and covered his erection. Then he slipped the silk panties off her hips, settling himself between her parted thighs. He entered her in one slow motion, filling her completely.

  A deep moan escaped Emma and she closed her eyes.

  For a moment, he held still inside her, memorizing the joy in her eyes just before they closed and the way the she-cat smile spread across her face. Then her body arched beneath him, drawing him in deeper still. To prevent ending things before they began, Clint closed his eyes and concentrated.

  “God, Em,” he mumbled against her mouth. “I want to go slow with this.”

  “Please...�
�

  “Please go slow?” He’d die before he’d hurt her.

  “Please don’t.”

  His control snapped. With each thrust he claimed her. Taking her with him higher and faster.

  Emma felt the old familiar tightening in her body. She tensed, hesitated. This was the place where Dwayne always left her hanging, just at the edge of the precipice—unfulfilled and wanting—finishing before her.

  Her hesitation cut through the passion driving Clint. “Em, come with me,” he whispered in her ear. He reached between them to stroke the core of her desire.

  Suddenly her world split. Spasms wracked her body. Her arms clung to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. Gripping muscles, she squeezed him tighter, pulling him deeper. Suspended in pleasure, she felt him fill her and join her as they tumbled into oblivion.

  A wondrous lassitude filled her body. Her arms and legs, every muscle, felt like jelly.

  Dazed, she reveled in the weight of Clint’s body, his heart pounding against hers. His breathing slowed as it caressed her sweat-dampened skin.

  A deep rumble started low, shaking his whole body. With great effort, he lifted himself to support his weight on his arms. A slow, sexy smile spread across his face.

  “You’re laughing?” Emma couldn’t resist returning the smile.

  “Em, you’re full of surprises.” He nipped at her mouth. “Haven’t you ever had an orgasm before?”

  Her smile disappeared. Her body tensed. “How did you know?”

  “When you hesitated.” He kissed her softly. “I knew you weren’t sure what would happen next.”

  Emma’s whole body burned with her blush. She tried to turn her head away, but Clint cupped her face between his hands. The calluses from weeks of working on her home brushed against her chin and cheekbones as he held her still. “Em, don’t be embarrassed.”

  “Wouldn’t you be, if you’d been married for nearly eight years and never knew what making love should be like?” Suddenly, her humiliation turned to anger. She pounded her fists into the bed. “Eight years. Never once.”

  “Sh, Em,” he crooned as he gathered her in his arms, turning them both on their side.

  “The bastard.” The comfort of Clint’s arms gave her the freedom to reveal the humiliation of her first marriage. “He told me I was frigid. He made it sound like he took pity on me just to have sex with me. Like it was my fault. It wasn’t my fault at all. He was just a lousy lover.”

  “You’re right.”

  “That he was a lousy lover?”

  “I’ll take your word on that, Em. But you’re right, he’s a bastard.” With a tenderness that warmed her from the inside out, he brushed the moisture from her eyelashes with his thumb. “How about we do it again, just to prove what a really pathetic man your ex-husband really was.”

  A giggle burst out of Emma. “Oh that really would drive the point home. The slimeball never could get it up more than once a week.”

  “I don’t seem to have that problem,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. To emphasize his words, he began to thicken inside her again.

  “No. No, you don’t, doctor,” she giggled as he rolled her back onto the mattress.

  Chapter Eleven

  A brisk tap sounded on the door, awakening Clint in the gray hours before dawn. In a protective gesture he tucked the quilt around Emma’s warm sleeping body. Throughout the night she’d gone several times to check on the boys. He kissed her on the forehead, before slipping out of the bed and into his sweats.

  “What’s up, Harriett?” he asked, not surprised to see his nurse standing at the door. He’d recognize that knock of hers anywhere.

  “Sorry to wake you, Doc.” She matter-of-factly handed him his clothes that had disappeared the night before. Thank God she couldn’t see Emma through the small crack of the door. “Millie Tompkins is bringing Naomi Elder in to the clinic by car. She just gave birth to her eighth baby and is bleeding a bit more than Millie cares to see.”

  Millie was the midwife Clint had been making country rounds with the last few weeks. The no-nonsense, yet kind-hearted woman knew her business. And her business was birthing babies. If Millie brought in a patient there had to be a problem. His clinic sat between the Elder’s farm and County General, the nearest place for Millie to bring a compromised mother.

  “I’ll be right there, Harriett. Set up two IV lines, Ringers solution in one bag and normal saline in the other. Oh, and prepare the D&C equipment just in case.”

  “Gotcha, Doc. And you might as well wake Emma, too. She’ll be helpful on this one,” she called a bit louder into the room before walking down the hall. “I’ve called Suzie Miller to come and watch the boys and Isabelle this morning. Preacher’s wife ought to be good for something in an emergency.”

  Clint closed the door and pressed his forehead against the door. Great! Now his nurse knew he and Emma had slept together.

  “She won’t tell anyone, Clint.”

  A rustle of the sheets from behind caught his attention. As he turned, Emma’s curvy, creamy form arose like Venus from the sea of blankets. When she reached into her bureau for underwear and clean scrubs, he shook the lusty thoughts filling his mind. Quickly he dressed then sat on the bed tying his shoes, watching Emma braid her hair. Her fingers worked deftly. He checked the desire to go run his fingers through her tresses and undo all her efforts.

  They had important work to do. His hormones, released after months of idleness, were going to have to take a backseat to saving Naomi’s life.

  They hurried out of the house into the cool morning predawn air, their breath a trail of mist behind them in their urgency. At the door, Clint held it open, stopping Emma with a brief kiss, his lips lingering a moment. “There may be no time until later, but Em, last night was special to me.”

  A delightful blush spread across her cheeks. Clint resisted the need to pull her into his arms.

  “It was special to me too, Clint,” she murmured, but he could read the hesitancy in her reply.

  Whatever was going on in her mind, he’d have to wait until later to figure out.

  * * *

  In the time it took them to dress and cross the street to the clinic, Harriett had prepared for the impending emergency. Two IV bags hung from poles on either side of the exam table, each complete with IV setup trays. A table, covered in green sterile drapes, sat near the rear wall. A portable oxygen tank, and a tank of nitrous oxide sat near the head of the exam table.

  “Looks like you have everything ready, Harriett,” Clint observed as he checked both the oxygen and anesthesia tanks to be sure they would function, if needed. “We’ll need to call the hospital...”

  “For the emergency squad to come,” his efficient nurse finished his thought. “Already done that, doc. Sheriff Justice said they were out on a run to the other side of the county. But they should be here in the next half an hour.”

  “How about the county...”

  “Blood bank? Doc Ray had Naomi blood-typed there at the beginning of this pregnancy. Said he didn’t trust women having this many babies. So Joanie there is cross-matching her now and will send the blood in about half an hour, too.”

  Clint nodded. “Good. Let’s just hope Naomi doesn’t need either. By the way, Harriett, who’s ...”

  “Joanie sending it with?” Harriett continued to eerily read his mind. “Gage, the sheriff’s son. Used to be a policeman in Columbus. He’s already headed to the blood bank so he can get the blood to us as soon as it’s ready.” She stopped in her recitation, lifting one eyebrow.

  Clint nodded again, afraid to ask anything else. His nurse’s skills at anticipating his needs scared him.

  He walked to the side entrance where Millie would bring Mrs. Elder. His pulse quickened with the adrenaline rush he always felt in true emergencies. Until this moment he hadn’t realized he’d missed it.

  How long had the rush been gone? Since he’d come to Weston for sure. But if he thought about it, even longer. It started when
his ex-girlfriend Kara told him that she’d aborted his baby. For some reason his life had gone gray at that point, like old faded black and white pictures. Then Johnny Wilson’s limp body arrived at his ER. Nothing had been the same since.

  When a cloud of dust a mile down the access road shot up into the air, Clint filed his disquieting thoughts into the back pocket of his mind. “Emma!” he called as he hurried down the steps to meet the Suburban pulling into the drive and screeching to a halt.

  Tiny Millie Tompkins hopped out of the front seat and met Clint at the rear of her truck. Opening the doors, he was greeted by the worried expression of Thomas Elder, his wife Naomi in his arms.

  “I packed her tight, to try to compress the bleeding, Doc,” Millie explained as she helped him relieve Thomas of his burden. “And I gave her some Pitocin, but the placenta came out in pieces this time. I just don’t think medicines are going to be the answer. Hello, Emma, glad to see you here, too.”

  “Morning, Millie.” Emma maneuvered the stretcher close to the car’s rear bumper and locked it in place. She helped Clint settle Naomi on it then they hurried her into the clinic.

  “Let’s get both IV’s in her, wide open on the Ringers, Harriett,” Clint ordered when they got in the exam room.

  They worked as a team lifting Naomi onto the table. Emma whisked the stretcher into the hall then took a quick set of vital signs. While Harriet and Millie started the IV’s, Emma positioned Naomi on the table and prepped her for a manual vaginal exam, careful not to dislodge the vaginal packing.

  While the women prepared Naomi, Clint took a few minutes to explain to Thomas what he was about to do and why it was necessary.

  Emma glanced to see Clint gently put his arm around the quiet farmer. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen a young doctor take this kind of time and compassion to speak to the patient’s family. Oh, she’d witnessed Doc Ray do it throughout the years. Apparently, Clint learned more than just the science of medicine from his uncle. Just when she thought no more nice guys existed in the world, Clint Preston came bulldozing his way into her life to prove her wrong.