From House Calls To Husband

by Christine Flynn

  Obviously, she thought, but the word lodged in her throat. He was turning her to putty with nothing more than the brush of his thumb over her mouth, scrambling her mind with the realization that he’d actually thought about kissing her.

  The thought of what else he might have considered pooled heat low in her stomach.

  “For instance,” he said, his deep voice quiet and faintly accusing, “you never told me you needed to be held. If you had, I’m sure we could have reciprocated on occasion. Especially after days like today.”

  “It didn’t seem like something I should ask.” She swallowed, at a total loss over which was more disarming—the fact that he’d sensed her need for a pair of arms and the knowledge that he sometimes shared the feeling, or the compelling, almost proprietary way he touched her. “‘Would you hold me?’ isn’t quite the same as ‘Would you donate supplies to the clinic, or rescue my cat?”’

  “But the need is there,” he countered easily. “And I’d do anything I could for you, Katie. You know that.” His eyes locked on hers, darkly, beautifully intent. “Is there anything else you haven’t mentioned that you’d care to share?”

  Like the fact that I’m scared to death of what I feel for you? she wondered. Or, how very much I’d like you to shut up and kiss me again because I’m afraid to think right now? “I’d better plead the fifth.”

  The admission made the gleam in his eyes turn feral. “Then answer one question for me.” He stepped closer, though he was already so close she could feel the heat of his big body. “If you’re not sure how you feel about what just happened,” he murmured, tracing her lower lip with the tip of his finger, “what would happen if I do it again?”

  Twenty minutes ago, her mind had been churning. Now, it didn’t seem to be functioning at all. There were reasons she should put an end to this delicious torture. Reasons she should ignore the incredible yearning he unleashed inside her. She just couldn’t think of what they were. Not when he was touching her. She’d been right about his hands. They were magic. And his voice was pure seduction. Deep, rich, quiet—it flowed over her like warm honey, soothing nerves even as his touch enlivened them.

  The combination was positively lethal.

  Splaying her hand on his chest, she whispered, “Maybe we should see.”

  It wasn’t the wine that made her head spin. She hadn’t had that much. It was the feel of his mouth playing over hers and of his arms closing around her. She wasn’t even sure if it was his heartbeat she felt, or her own, knocking against her ribs when his hand drifted down her back and he pulled her closer. But she could feel him hard against her, his hunger fueling hers when, long, breathless moments later, his free hand slipped under her sweatshirt and skimmed toward her breast.

  She was sure her knees would have buckled if he hadn’t been holding her. The sensations he elicited rocked her to her core.

  “Katie,” he whispered, his voice strained. “There was one thing we didn’t talk about. Are you on anything?”

  “The Pill,” she murmured, not even questioning why he would ask. “I never went off them.” At the moment, she couldn’t remember why that was, or what she’d been hoping for. It didn’t matter. Mike was kissing her again, drugging her with his taste and the heat of his breath against her skin. With his hands on her hips, his mouth making delicious forays from her lips to her neck, he backed her toward the little hallway.

  It didn’t occur to her to slow them down, much less stop what they were doing. When she bumped the corner of the wall and he took her by the shoulders to get her on a straighter path, her only thought was that Mike wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Beyond that, she simply couldn’t think.

  Still guiding her backward, his hands skimmed her sides, dipping under her sweatshirt to pull the fleecy fabric over her head. She was halfway down the hall when the shirt hit the floor. By the time he unfastened the clasp of her bra and slid the lacy straps down her arms, they’d reached the doorway to her bedroom.

  He tossed the bra on her dresser. Without taking his mouth from hers, he pulled back far enough for her to unbutton his shirt while he pushed her leggings over her hips. His shirt landed on the bra and her leggings over her antique rocker just as she felt the edge of her bed bump against the backs of her legs.

  “Put your arms around me.”

  His breath feathered hot against her ear at the command. Slipping her arms around his neck, she felt his rock solid chest brush her softer flesh. Fire raced through her at the contact. But fire was racing through her everywhere he touched. His lips traced a line of heat up her throat to her jaw, finally claiming her mouth when he cupped her breasts with his palms, taunting her nipples with the slow strokes of his thumbs. Then, his mouth replaced his hands and the only thing that kept her upright was her grip on his beautifully muscled shoulders.

  She’d never felt passion before. The realization was as stunning as the white-hot need he fed as his hands shaped her waist, her hips, her stomach. She’d never known what it was like to be slowly robbed of her sanity by the feel of a man. She’d known arousal and the warmly pleasant feelings lovemaking could bring. But she’d never known she could be driven mad. She’d never known either, that she could be driven to beg. There was hunger in his touch, a raw, aching urgency that had her sinking her fingers into his hair, urging him closer still. She wanted him, all of him.

  She didn’t realize she’d voiced the thought until she felt him pull away. But the sharp sting of disappointment was salved by the realization that he’d only stopped to finish unzipping his pants. Within moments, slacks, briefs and socks had gone the way of the rest of their clothing, and he was drinking the moan that caught in her throat when he pulled her fully against him.

  The feel of him, hot and hard against her stomach, nearly undid her. But it was the feel of him pressing her back to the bed, his big body covering hers, that nearly turned her blood to steam.

  Contrasts flooded her senses. The delicious smoothness of his back, the coarse, masculine feel of his heavy, hairroughened leg as he wedged hers apart. She felt his hand skim along the back of her thigh, the warmth of his hand on her cool skin burning like a brand as he drew her leg over his. She murmured his name. At least she thought she did. His fingers stole through her hair to hold her head between his hands, his mouth coming down hard on hers as he entered her, filled her, consumed her.

  There was no holding back. No pretext of slowing down. She met his smooth thrusts, sucking in his breath as he stole hers and felt herself fly into a thousand pieces. Within seconds, his hands tightened their hold and he was flying with her.

  Katie wasn’t sure how long it was before their breathing quieted. It could have been seconds, or minutes. But the sensual fog finally, inevitably began to lift. As the haze cleared, rationality leaked in, as unwanted as a disruptive guest and just as disconcerting. But just as she started to remember a couple of the more glaring reasons she should have pulled back from Mike while she’d still been capable of logic, he lifted himself off of her and rolled her over with him.

  “Don’t think.”

  His words were a low rasp, but there was no mistaking their insistence when he threw his leg over hers and tugged her eyelet comforter over their cooling bodies. They hadn’t bothered to turn on a light, much less to pull the covers back. “Just let me hold you,” he murmured, coaxing her head to his shoulder. “Just for a while.”

  Nothing else he could have said just then would have blunted the edge of panic so effectively. He wanted to hold her. Whether he wanted that for himself or for her, she didn’t know. But either way, the motion of his hand kept her where she was. With slow, easy strokes, he traced a path from her back to her thigh, the movement seeming as soothing to him as it was to her.

  “Just for a while,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  She knew exactly what he was doing. He knew as well as she did that once they moved from each other’s arms, nothing would be quite the same. But as long as they stayed wh
ere they were, they could postpone the moment they would have to face what they’d done. More than willing to avoid that moment for as long as possible, she curled into the protection of his arms, and let herself think only of how she’d always wanted to be exactly where she was.

  Mike hadn’t intended to fall asleep. He especially hadn’t planned to spend the night. When he opened his eyes and saw the clock on the nightstand glowing 5:42, he realized he’d done both. He’d also overslept. The only reason he’d awakened now was because a cat had just curled up by his head.

  In the space of seconds, it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly. But the realization that he’d just had the best night’s sleep he’d experienced in ages was ruined by the fact that he was late. It didn’t help matters, either, that Katie lay curled in his arms, her back to his chest and her sweet body creating all manner of havoc in his.

  He knew the instant her consciousness returned. Even before he began to ease his arm from beneath her head, he felt tension seeping into her supple muscles, and heard the faint shift of her breathing from deep to shallow.

  “It’s a quarter to six,” he whispered, the need to hurry forcing him from the bed. “What time do you usually get cup?”

  Her muffled, “Six,” sounded oddly strained.

  “Then stay put. I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.” He didn’t consider it a very good sign that she hadn’t moved. But he had no time now to worry about why she wouldn’t turn to face him. “I have a seven-o’ clock surgery.” He could make it home in ten minutes. Less than that since there would be no traffic and if he hit the lights right. It would take him twenty minutes to shave, shower, dress. Another thirty to get to the hospital, change again, and scrub in. They’d just have to start late. No way would he go into a surgery rushed. Talking more to himself than to her, he murmured, “I’ll have to do rounds after.”

  The room was dark, mostly shapes and shadows. He wasn’t familiar with the space, but he managed to collect his clothes and pull on his pants without stumbling over anything. What he couldn’t find were his shoes.

  “You left your shoes in the living room.”

  She was sitting up now, and pushing back the tangle of hair he’d buried his fingers in last night. With one hand clutching the comforter to her throat, her slender shoulders bare, and one long, shapely leg visible in the light spilling through the doorway, she looked as tempting as sin itself.

  “Right.” In the shadows, he saw her grip the thick material tighter. “Thanks.”

  “Mike?”

  The uneasy sound of his name stopped him in the doorway. He didn’t know if it was regret he sensed in her, or caution. He had no idea what she was feeling. He didn’t even know what he was feeling himself. Self-recrimination and embarrassment were high on the list, though. Never in his life had he allowed his physical needs to control him. Yet, with Katie, he’d kissed her once and promptly kissed his control goodbye.

  Now he was acting as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  “You know I have to go, Katie.” He had no idea what she wanted him to do; what he wanted to do. Reassure her? Kiss her? Keep his hands to himself? Drop dead? All he did know was that until he had time to figure it out, he didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse. “I’ll see you at the hospital. Okay?”

  She gave him a nod, the motion as tentative as the feelings churning inside them both.

  A moment later, hating the way he was leaving, he found his shoes and coat and headed out the door.

  Chapter Five

  When a surgeon was late for surgery, it wasted the time of the entire surgical team and backed up every case scheduled behind it for the rest of the day. Knowing how conscientious Mike was, and having a friend in OR who occasionally grumbled about such backups, Katie could hardly fault Mike for his abrupt departure. There was just something about having a man race from her bed and bolt for the door, no matter what his reason or excuse, that added a touch of humiliation to the varying degrees of embarrassment and anxiety she was already dealing with.

  She’d never had a one-night stand in her entire life. And the fact that she’d just had one with Mike had kept her vacillating between total disbelief and abject panic all morning. It was a fair indication of her mental distress that she was wishing he’d been a total stranger.

  What in heaven’s name had she done?

  “There you are.” Cindy, the copper-haired RN with the cinnamon freckles who’d joined the team last month, hurried toward her as Katie left a patient’s room. “Dr. Brennan just put my patient on this,” she said, holding up a clear vial. “What is it I’m supposed to do for his study? All he said was that the instructions are on the forms, but I can’t find them and Alice isn’t here.”

  “Take the patient’s blood pressure every fifteen minutes for two hours after it’s administered,” Katie replied, hating the way her heart had hitched knowing Mike was on the floor, “and do an arterial line draw every thirty minutes for three hours.”

  Cindy rolled her brown eyes toward the ceiling. “Like I don’t have enough to do around here. I’ve still got lines to pull on the angiogram in 309 and I’m supposed to pick up my daughter at dance class at four.” The exasperated look she aimed at her watch said she’d barely make it. “These drug studies are such a nuisance sometimes.”

  “If you’re running behind, I’ll do it. All I have left to do is chart.”

  The older woman’s expression immediately turned quizzical. “I wasn’t hinting for you to do it for me,” she said, sounding surprised that Katie didn’t know that. “I’m just whining.”

  “It’s okay.” The smile she offered was a tad weak, but it served the purpose. “Go ahead and administer it. I’ll get the readings.”

  Too grateful for the assist to question it any further, the petite redhead told Katie which patient it was, turned on her rubber-soled heel and headed around an empty gurney. Sidestepping the same gurney, Katie disposed of the empty IV bag she’d just replaced and turned into the med room for the supplies she would need. Most of the staff pitched in and helped each other when they could, but her offer now had little to do with team support. She just wanted to stay busy. It was the only way she could avoid dwelling on what had happened last night. Every time she thought about it, which was roughly every other minute, she felt sick.

  She had totally jeopardized her relationship with Mike; allowed feelings she should have kept locked away to break free. She knew better. She was thirty years old, for Pete’s sake. Old enough to know that sex changed everything between a man and a woman. Feelings. Expectations. The roles they played in each other’s lives.

  What had happened last night could easily ruin what they had, but she couldn’t let that happen. Even if he felt something beyond friendship for her, which she seriously doubted, there was no future for them. Not as a couple. He didn’t want to be bothered with a relationship, and she had no intention of living the way her mother had, raising a child with a husband who had no time for family dinners or school plays or going for walks in the snow—and that was if he stayed around long enough to get past the first couple of years. Half the doctors on staff had been divorced at one time or another—Mike included. Not that she blamed him for the demise of his marriage. But the statistics did point out that doctors were simply a bad risk. Logic aside, she and Mike weren’t lovers. They were friends. And she would do everything in her power to make sure that was what they remained.

  If he was still speaking to her.

  Since she’d been tied up with the same patient for the last twenty minutes, she had no idea how long he’d been in the unit. Considering that he’d already spoken with one of the nurses about a patient, it was apparent that he hadn’t felt compelled to find her as soon as he’d arrived.

  “Hi.”

  The sound of Mike’s deep voice sent her heart to her toes.

  Totally disquieted at the thought of facing him, she slowly turned f
rom the counter. He stood still as stone in the doorway of the cabinet-lined room, his blue eyes fixed like lasers on hers and his expression as guarded as she felt. He looked terribly intimidating standing there in his white shirt and navy sport coat. Very big. Very male. And very capable of making a woman kiss her common sense goodbye.

  Recalling all too well that he’d done precisely that last night, her glance faltered.

  “Hi,” she echoed, finding the tray in her hand the safest place to look. “Checking on your patients?”

  “Just finished.”

  “How did your surgery go?”

  “Fine. Do you have a minute?”

  He clearly wasn’t interested in small talk, or in wasting time. As soon as she murmured, “Sure,” he glanced over his shoulder to see who was behind him in the hall, then stepped into the crowded little room. A moment later, he closed the windowed door with a quiet click. He looked uncertain, which wasn’t like Mike at all. And a little edgy, which wasn’t like him, either.

  “I know this isn’t the place to talk. I just didn’t know when else I’d get a chance to see you today.” A muscle in his jaw jerked as he cautiously scanned her face. “Are you all right?”

  Katie opened her mouth, and promptly shut it again. She’d never had trouble talking to Mike before. Ever. Yet she had no idea how to answer him now.

  “Maybe this would be easier if I hadn’t left the way I did this morning.”

  “You were late. I know you had to go.”

  “Thanks for the understanding,” he murmured, self-deprecation heavy in his tone, “but I still don’t think it helped. You didn’t deserve that.”

  She tried to smile, if for no other reason than to ease some of the bridled tension radiating from his body and fraying the ends of her nerves.

  “Don’t worry about it.” The smile never materialized. Regret wouldn’t allow it. “Your oversleeping isn’t the problem. I mean, it didn’t matter as much as...well, not like...”