Nameless Surrender

by Kristin Daniels

  She escaped into the hallway and down the stairs. The thunderous music and techno-strobe lights from the lower-level dance area pounded through her. She stopped a moment to watch the crowd writhe and thrash about on the hardwood floor. They seemed to move as one, a sea of rhythmic sensuality.

  "Want to join in?"

  She spun to find Kurt, wearing only a pair of tattered skin-tight blue jeans and dark boots, behind her. His hairless, sculpted chest glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. He smiled with an erotic glint in his blue eyes.

  He definitely had the hot bad-boy look down, but even at that, she felt nothing toward him.

  "Thanks, but no. I'm headed home,” she yelled over the music.

  "Why? It's early. Every time you're here, you run upstairs and then leave right away. Why not stick around, have a few drinks? I'm not working tonight, so this is perfect. Come on. Dance with me."

  He grabbed her hand and headed toward the dance floor, but she pulled back and pasted on a smile. “Sorry, Kurt. I have an early shift tomorrow. I need to go."

  He turned to stand in front of her, stroked a finger along her jaw and stared into her eyes, then shook his head. The slow, devilish smile returned. “Yeah, like that's all it really is. He's one lucky bastard."

  "Who?"

  "The one you've fallen for.” He leaned closer to her ear. “It's written all over your face, sugar."

  He stepped back and released her hand. “Let me know if it doesn't work out. I'd be more than happy to take his place.” With a wink, he turned and danced into the chaos of the crowd.

  She spun, weaved her way to the door and pushed through in a hurry. Her heart pounded inside her chest. What did Kurt see? Most likely just the sex-induced flush on her cheeks, that's all. Yeah. A bit of a rosy hue from before, from all the things her lover had done to her.

  She bolted for her car, unlocked it and slid behind the wheel. The need to get away from here, away from the confusion and her sudden gut-wrenching uncertainty, assailed her.

  The twenty-minute drive home did little to calm her. Still on-edge, she felt torn between her newfound self-resolve and the undeniable connection she felt to her mysterious man. She pulled in front of her condo, lurched into a parking spot and killed the engine.

  Should she go for it, take the chance at heartbreak again? As she pondered the question, she left her car and headed toward the entrance of her condo building.

  "Zoe?"

  She jumped and sucked in a startled breath, only to let it out when Stephen emerged from behind one of the building's front pillars.

  "God, Stephen, you scared me to death. What are you doing here?” She moved to walk past him, but he grabbed her elbow.

  "I n-need to talk to you."

  The stench of alcohol wafted from him and he staggered a bit as he waited for her to answer. She lifted his fingers from her arm and dropped his hand.

  "We have nothing to talk about.” She looked around the parking lot. “How did you get here? You didn't drive like this, did you?"

  "Nope. Cab.” He woozily sighed.

  Her heart stung as she looked at him. Wrinkles creased his designer Italian suit and his too-long disheveled hair seemed so unlike him. He'd always been so put together, so confident. What happened to that self-assured man she'd once known?

  What she told her father earlier had been the truth. She was no longer in love with Stephen Crane. Pity best described the only emotion she could feel toward him now.

  Her voice softened. “Sit on the bench. Let me call you another cab. You need to go home and sleep this off."

  He shook his head and nearly fell over. When he stopped, his hazel eyes held an intense pain. “No, Zoe. I can't. I can't go home. Not without you.” He took a step toward her, seized her upper arms. “You belong there. With me. Only me."

  The powerful grip belied his drunkenness. She twisted within his hands. “You're hurting me! Let go!"

  He pushed her against the pillar. The coarse concrete dug in and scratched the skin on her back. She cried out, but he ignored her distress.

  "Never, Zoe. I can't let you go. Not ever again.” He held her tight, dipped his head to her neck and laid slobbery, drunken kisses there.

  The whiskey on his breath made her stomach turn. She'd never seen him in such a state, this inebriated and out of control. She pushed back, but being stronger, he held her in place with a thrust of his own.

  "Stephen! Please, don't."

  He lifted his head and looked at her. His glassy stare worried her all the more.

  "It meant nothing. You're the only one I've ever loved. You were meant for me, Zoe."

  They both stilled for a moment. Then something inside her gave way. God, she'd had enough. All the hurt and anger she'd held in for months flowed out in a sudden river of release. “If you ever loved me, you never would've fucked someone else."

  He hung his head and loosened his grip.

  She shoved at him, managed to move and escape his hold. Rage suddenly consumed her. She clenched her jaw so hard she thought she'd break her teeth as she balled her hands into fists. “Especially not a man, Stephen."

  * * * *

  After Dean sweet-talked his way past the ER receptionist, he ambled down the hallway toward the nurses’ station. Zoe stood behind the counter—this time in much more comfortable scrubs and clogs—deep in conversation with a colleague.

  "...and then order the MRI for Mr. Sanders in exam four.” She looked up as Dean approached. A drop-dead-gorgeous smile bloomed on her face. “Captain Lucas. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

  Too easy. Way too easy.

  He leaned one elbow on the counter, removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the neckline of his t-shirt. A seductive grin slid to his lips. “All sorts of things. Would you like the list alphabetical?"

  She lowered her lashes and blushed. Christ, he wanted her. She turned to the nurse, who took the chart from Zoe's hands and walked away with a smirky grin.

  When she focused on him again, she said, “Why don't we start with what I can do for you, medically.” She lifted her chin toward his shoulder, the pink on her cheeks receding. “How's it healing?"

  "Just fine.” He pulled up the short sleeve of his shirt, flexed his bicep—shameless, he knew—and revealed the unbandaged wound.

  She came around the short end of the desk for a closer look. Instinct took over, and he leaned into her. “My ego, on the other hand, isn't doing quite as well.” When her gaze flicked to his, he said, “You ran out of the exam room pretty fast the other night. I was just getting warmed up, ready to turn on my killer charm. Why the rush?"

  In a subtle move, she took a slight step back and swallowed. “Um, no rush, really. We were busy, Captain—"

  With just as much subtlety, he closed the gap she made. “Like I said the other night, call me Dean.” Somehow he had to get her to move past formality, get her to see him, take notice. He thought he'd accomplished that last Friday night. Her body language told him as much, but then she ran. Now it appeared he needed to start all over again.

  "Right. Dean."

  "There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?” She rewarded him with a soft laugh, which—of course—only served as fuel to the fire his libido had become. “So, Zoe, do you ever take a break? I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee, give you proper thanks for doing such a great job on me."

  The caramel in her deep brown eyes glinted, and he knew she understood the double meaning. She scratched at her chest—no doubt an after-effect of their wax-play—and he tamped down the urge to laugh, pull her into his arms and hold her tight. God, she looked even more beautiful when he got her flustered.

  He continued without waiting for her answer. “Unless you'd like to make it a little more private? Say, dinner, Wednesday night?"

  She lowered her hand to her hip and cocked her head. “I don't date—"

  "Patients. Yeah, I know, you told me. But I'm not a patient anymore. I thought we cleared that up already."
<
br />   She sighed, and then bit her lower lip—an endearing personal habit that quickly drove him insane. Damn, how he wished he could be the one to nibble on that gorgeous mouth right now.

  Without warning she grabbed his hand, dragged him into an empty exam room and flung the curtain closed behind them. His cock sprang to attention at her forcefulness, but when she dropped his hand and brought hers to her forehead, apprehension took over.

  "Listen, I don't want to lead you on,” she said.

  Oh, fuck. He stifled the urge to turn around and punch the wall.

  She looked at him then, her expression filled with melancholic sadness. Or was that regret he saw?

  "I'm not looking for any sort of relationship. I just came out of a difficult divorce. I'm still too raw. You seem like a great guy, but I can't start anything right now."

  Whoa. Okay. That answered a boatload of questions.

  A divorce? Shit, no wonder she wanted the blindfold, the pure sexual release the club brought her. Who could blame her for wanting to forget something as bad as a shitty divorce?

  Time for some serious damage control, a complete change in tactics.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Hold on for a second. Look, I'm sorry if I came on a little strong, darlin'. I just thought we had a spark is all. That we could—"

  "Fuck?"

  The word rocked him, as did the heat of the sudden blush on her cheeks. His cock reacted to both and his blood burned.

  God, she tested him. He took a step closer, then another. “That's not what I was going to say.” She backed away, but within two more steps, he pinned her against the sink cabinet. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Is that what you want, Dr. Zoe? You want me to fuck you?"

  A sudden alertness peaked within him and he lifted his head to look at her. Her breaths came in short, jagged inhales and exhales, her eyes darkened and her nipples poked against the light blue scrub shirt. It took every ounce of control he possessed not to stroke the familiar hard buds with the backs of his fingers. To avoid the temptation, he placed his palms on the counter on either side of her hips and caged her in.

  An internal struggle raged in her eyes. Would she cave, or would the strong, vibrant woman inside her win out?

  Instead of kissing her as he wanted to do, he shifted and tore his gaze from hers. He had to stop this now, before he lost the ability to release her. He preempted her reply, not letting her answer.

  "But, as much as that thought appeals to me, Doc,” he pushed off the counter to put a few inches distance between them, “I'm sincere about the dinner offer. No pressure. Just a meal between new friends so I can properly thank you. That's all."

  She swallowed and lifted her chin. Dark eyes narrowed on his, but the buzz of her arousal came through stronger than any leeriness she must've felt. “Friends?"

  He nodded, and it killed him. “Yep. Just friends."

  She hesitated a moment longer. “In that case, Dean, dinner would be great."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Nameless Surrender: Chapter 8

  Zoe rifled through her closest, at a loss for what to wear. Dean hadn't told her where they were going, so she didn't know if she should choose dressy or more casual. Finally, she decided on a black sleeveless dress and a simple pair of strappy heels, the perfect go-to outfit for any occasion.

  Her door buzzed at five minutes to eight. When she pressed the talk button on the intercom, butterflies flitted in her stomach. “I'll be right down."

  After one final primp in her full-length mirror, she made her way to the lobby of her condo building. He stood outside; hands stuffed in his pockets, stance wide, staring at the bright orange of the twilight sky.

  Even with his back turned, he exuded power and strength. The dark denim of his jeans molded perfectly to his long legs and ass. She wanted to curse the black cotton of his dress shirt that hid his perfect muscular physique. Her gaze lifted higher and she couldn't help but stare at the tan column of his neck between his short dark hair and the collar of the shirt. Damn, even that little strip of exposed skin was sexy.

  She stopped a moment to observe him. Why on earth did I say yes to this dinner? Could it be his declaration of a friends-only night out, or more? She couldn't deny a physical attraction to him, but she also had that with her partner at Entice. What worried her more than anything was how the two of them shared the same uncanny knack of breaking through her resolve. If she wasn't careful, they'd succeed and slip through all her defenses, a feat she feared might be easier to do now than she had originally believed.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. Both men were so different from Stephen. Not only on the outside, but she could tell on the inside, too. They were still men, however, and to her all men represented the potential for heartbreak. She had to remember that. Not a difficult thing to do most of the time. The image of Stephen with his pants around his ankles as he rammed into a long-time male client from behind would be forever seared into her brain. What a fun day that had been.

  She opened her eyes, shook the memory from her thoughts and pushed through the door with a vow to forget all that and enjoy the evening with her friend. Dean turned toward the door and smiled when their eyes met. His look held such warmth, her entire body heated in an instant.

  "Zoe, whoa."

  She laughed. “I hope that's a good whoa."

  "Definitely. You look gorgeous."

  Yeah, he did, too. Way too handsome for his own good. She'd always been a sucker for the clean-cut look, the short, styled hair, the smooth, shaved jaw, the simple, well-fitted wardrobe. That kind of look said something about a man. It spoke of confidence and self-assuredness. Traits Dean Lucas displayed with perfect ease.

  Heat rose to her cheeks. Somehow he always knew what to say to get her to blush. With a sudden desert-dry mouth, her reply came out soft. “Thanks."

  In a simple yet tender motion, he offered his hand. “Come on, I'm parked over here."

  She took it and let him lead her through the parking lot. He stopped at a very large, very tall, black pickup truck. He opened the passenger door and she chuckled.

  "What?"

  She splayed her arms. “I'm not exactly dressed to climb into that thing."

  "No problem.” He grinned. “I'll give you a lift."

  Before she could protest, he scooped her up and set her in the seat. She didn't consider herself heavy—as a matter of fact she loved her curves—but the ease with which he lifted her so high surprised her. Not that it should have, with all those bulging muscles. Delicious muscles that flexed and bunched under her hand....

  Okay. Don't go there. This is dinner with a friend, not a night at Entice. Focus.

  He closed the door, and she used the few seconds it took for him to walk around the back of the truck to the driver's side to do just that. Or tried to, anyway. She found that his sexually charged presence overwhelmed her just a bit. Not an entirely unpleasant sensation, but enough of one to make her wary. It wouldn't take much for her to drown in any seduction plan he might have. She definitely needed to stay on her toes tonight.

  He slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. The truck rumbled to life, and when he placed his arm across the bench seat to back out, his fingers brushed her shoulder. She slipped him a look.

  With an air of friendliness, he winked. The simple gesture held such undeniable sensuality, it all but screamed at her. No doubt about it, that tiny caress had been intentional.

  "So, where are we headed?” She needed conversation, anything to take her mind off the tingle that ran through her.

  He turned and shifted the truck into gear. “One of my favorite little spots, down at the marina. It's got the perfect place to relax, sip on a glass of wine and watch the sun set."

  "Sounds a bit romantic for a dinner between friends."

  He smiled, but kept his eyes on the road. “Is that how you want tonight? Romantic?"

  She studied his profile and hesitated to answer. H
er fragile, nearly mended heart screamed “No!” while her head flirted with the idea that she should move forward, maybe try again. The two thoughts so contradicted each other, her mind whirled.

  His effortless laugh brought her out of her daze.

  "Easy there, darlin'. You're thinking so hard, smoke's going to curl up out of your ears.” He slanted his gaze to her. “I know what's roaming around in that mind of yours. Let me give you a little head's up. I'm not him."

  That caught her attention. “Him?"

  "Your ex. Don't ever confuse me with another man. I keep my word, sugar. The only way this dinner will move on to something more is if you come right out and tell me that's what you want. Otherwise, we'll just enjoy tonight and get to know each other better. Deal?"

  Sincerity poured off him, and she had to admit, that put her more at ease. She believed him. The same Zoe who'd solemnly vowed never to trust another man knew he told her the truth.

  He shot her a glance and she rewarded his patience with her answer. “Deal."

  "Good.” He flicked the radio to a mellow jazz station and set the volume low. “So let's start with the basics. How long have you been at County?"

  Okay, this she could do. “A little over two years as attending. I did my residency there and fell in love with the work. Of course, I could do without the bureaucracy, but I like knowing I can help where it's really needed. County gives me that."

  "Seems we have something in common. Public service is a calling, I think. Not everyone takes to it. You're either born with it or you're not."

  She shifted sideways to face him. “What about you? How'd you become Commander of a S.W.A.T. team?"

  He scratched at his smooth jaw and shrugged. “It just kind of happened. I served four years in the Marines straight out of high school. When I got out, it seemed natural for me to slide right into police work. My dad's a retired cop and two of my brothers are cops, so I guess you could say it's a family thing."

  "Two of your brothers? How many do you have?"