by Mindy Neff
“And is it?”
“What?”
“Your sleep cycle messed up.”
She shrugged. “Kimmy’s nightmare the other night kept me up. Sometimes I think it’s just my brain—thinking too hard. I go over every angle, come up with conclusions, then dismiss them because I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?” His arm was over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing her shoulder.
“Of pushing too hard. Of not pushing hard enough. I can’t see inside her mind. This isn’t a wound that I can look at and treat. It’s not a broken bone that can be detected by an X ray. The psychologist who worked with Kimmy was a friend of mine, so I knew she was on the level when she said she’d done all she could do. To continue the therapy would simply be taking my money. She felt that Kimmy was close enough to me that if she was going to open up, it would be to me. As time passes, I’m not so sure she’s right.”
“Those girls love you.”
“Yes, I know that. I just want this whole mess to be over.”
“The kids were close to your husband?”
“No.”
“No?”
She nearly smiled at the astonishment on his face, but the answer to his question was sad. “Steve was busy. He had a life pretty much separate from us. Oh, he loved them. But only on his timetable, do you know what I mean?”
“I have an idea. And I have to tell you, it doesn’t endear the guy to me.”
“He wasn’t that bad. Though I don’t think I could have said that right after the funeral. Now that I’ve distanced myself from the betrayal, I do remember some of the good times.”
She pulled her knees up to her chest, her feet on the sofa, and wrapped the afghan more tightly. The warmth of the fire felt good against her back. She couldn’t explain it, but the smell of pine and the twinkle of Christmas lights on the tree made her feel safe somehow, safe enough to open up about her life.
“I met Steve at a medical convention when I was twenty-four. He was ten years older and didn’t seem intimidated by my being a doctor at such a young age. I hadn’t had much experience with dating, and I was thrilled by the attention he gave me. We married and had Jessica right away.”
She toyed with the ends of her hair, feeling the sting of failure all over again. “The honeymoon period didn’t even last through the pregnancy. We started drifting apart into separate lives. I had no yardstick with which to measure and figured that was standard—that married couples didn’t have to live in each other’s back pocket.”
“Independence is separate from romance, Kel.”
“Yes. I should have realized that by watching my own parents. I was busy, though, and fulfilled with my job, and we fell into a routine that I convinced myself was normal. Sometimes I felt as though Steve was competing with me, trying to prove that he was the better doctor, the better surgeon.
“Then he became obsessed with his looks, changed his specialty to plastic surgery and started hanging out with an elite crowd. When I came home at the end of the day, I wanted family time. I’d thought that’s what Steve wanted, too. But he started staying out nights, always going to some party or benefit. Can you believe that I even encouraged him to go with Candy?”
He took her feet, drew them into his lap, rubbed his warm palms over them. She started to object, but it felt too good. His attentiveness continually caught her by surprise, encouraged her to continue, to talk about things she’d only discussed with one other person. Her father.
“Candy was my best friend. We met when we were both at UCLA. Candy was bouncing back and forth between art history and law. She had her cosmetology license and did hair and makeup to supplement her income through college. She sort of fell into a job doing celebrities’ makeup on movie sets. It was Candy who introduced Steve to the world of movie stars. She was instrumental in putting him in the right place to launch his career in plastic surgery.”
“Why do I feel as though you didn’t agree with your husband’s change in specialties?”
She shrugged. “It was his choice. I’d have respected him more if he hadn’t been motivated by money. Plastic surgery is a valuable tool in medicine. Steve didn’t take those kind of cases, though—you know, the cleft palates, burns and mastectomy rebuilding. He did face-lifts and liposuction on the rich and famous. That was it.”
“And made a name for himself.”
“Definitely. Which is what caused the media circus after he died.”
Chance, still massaging her feet, squeezed in compassion. “And you didn’t even have your best friend to turn to. Weren’t there others? Friends?”
She shook her head. “Because I’d been such a smart kid and so far ahead of the girls my age, I never really had girlfriends. Candy was the first. And the friendship meant a lot.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know much about the rules of friendship, but I do know that best friends don’t steal husbands.”
“No, they don’t. But the experience has made you wary of friendships…relationships.”
“What’s that saying about once burned?” She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’m not cut out for relationships. Some genetic flaw. Like the freak genetic makeup that made me what I am.”
With his hands at her ankles, he tugged and slid her right over into his lap. Surprise rendered her speechless.
“What you are is a caring, gifted, warm, compassionate, beautiful, sexy woman.”
That was a mouthful. She held her breath. Did he mean it? His expression said he did. She didn’t quite know how to deal with compliments. Nor with finding herself in his lap once again.
“That’s thrown you off, hasn’t it?” he asked, running the tip of his finger down her cheek.
She nodded. Couldn’t yet speak. His thighs were warm beneath hers. What would he do if she shifted, straddled him, gave in to the combustible chemistry that continually simmered and sizzled between them?
“You’re a woman who deserves compliments, Kelly. You deserve better than what you got from your marriage.”
Oh, he said exactly the right things. She had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. Reaching up, she hooked her hand at the nape of his neck, applied the slightest pressure. In the back of her mind, she’d thought to express gratitude. While holding his gaze, it turned into something more. Much more.
For more than a month she’d been fighting the attraction between them, determined to keep her distance.
She wanted to give up the fight. It was too difficult to keep up the shield. They were alone for the night. She wouldn’t be here much longer. School would start again for Jessica in January. Kelly was scheduled to begin seeing patients a week after that.
Once, just once, she wanted to feel this man’s touch, wanted to feel like a woman. A valued woman. The sexy woman that he’d told her she was.
She wasn’t sure which one of them made the first move. His head lowered and she met him halfway. She closed her eyes, felt the warmth of his lips, the sweep of his palm over her back, her hip, her thigh, over her rib cage and lightly, ever so lightly, against the side of her breast.
She turned into him, moaned, poured herself into a kiss that tasted like every wish she’d ever thought to make.
Perfect. Coveted. So very right.
When he lifted his head, his breathing was as unsteady as hers. “We should slow down.”
“Why?”
“Do you have any idea what you do to me? You make me want to take. But I watched you suffer through that headache a mere eight hours ago.”
“Surely you’ve read the same studies I have. Sex is one of the best remedies for a headache.”
He went absolutely still, studied her. A vein popped up on his forehead, testament to the tenuous control he held himself under. A log in the fireplace spit, sending a shower of sparks up the flue. Silence engulfed them for two heartbeats, then three.
“Are you sure? Be very sure, Kelly.”
“I’m positive.”
He stood with her in his arms, gazed dow
n at her. His eyes locked on to hers, held her. “If you think this is only about sex, you’re wrong. I’m going to make love to you. With you.”
Oh, Lord. This was deeper than she wanted to go. But she nodded. Because she knew he was right. Their feelings were volcanic. They had been for a while now.
He carried her down the hallway to his bedroom, then slowly, carefully, slid her down the front of his body until her feet touched the floor. She remembered when he’d done something similar the night they’d decorated the tree. That time, her back had been to his front. This time, they were breast to chest, hips to hips and, at last, lips to lips.
He kissed her like a man desperate to quench a powerful thirst. His arousal was thick and hard behind the zipper of his jeans. He held her against him, shifting her from side to side, letting her feel his desire, torturing them both.
They weren’t even undressed and she wanted to beg. But his mouth was fused against hers, his strong hands holding her right where he wanted her, controlling their movements.
“Chance,” she managed when she came up for air.
“Mmm.” His hands slipped beneath the hem of her sweatshirt. “It’s been driving me mad all evening that you weren’t wearing a bra.”
She swallowed hard, drew in a swift breath when his thumb lightly stroked her nipple. In the lamplight, she could see the heat in his eyes, the intent.
He eased her down on the bed. “Let me build up the fire.”
“It’s roaring pretty good, if you ask me.”
He chuckled and crossed the room to the stack of wood beside the hearth. In minutes a fire was crackling, throwing shadows over the hardwood floor and maple furniture.
When he turned back, though, he wasn’t laughing. His gaze was intense, his steps determined. He was a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t going to beat around the bush or apologize for it.
It was the most exquisitely thrilling look any man had ever given her. It made her feel beautiful, sexy, as though she indeed had what it took to excite and fulfill a man.
Without breaking eye contact, he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it in the corner. Kelly stood, intending to slip out of her clothes, too.
“Wait,” he said. “Let me.”
Stopping in front of her, he lowered his head, kissed her, then lifted her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head.
Kelly suffered a moment of embarrassment. The only man who’d ever seen her naked was Steve. And then it had been mostly in the dark.
There was plenty of light here. After giving birth to two children, her body wasn’t as young and firm as it used to be.
He took her arms and uncrossed them, dropped to his knees in front of her, his gaze a warm caress as he looked up at her.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice held a reverence that banished her unease as he removed her sweatpants.
Running his palms up the backs of her thighs, he cupped her behind, squeezed, pulled her closer and pressed his lips against the faint stretch marks at her belly, ran his tongue just above the elastic band of her silk panties.
Kelly gripped his shoulders for balance. “Chance…” She didn’t know what else to say. Just his name.
“I know.” He stood and lowered her to the bed, followed her down and fitted himself over her, using his knee to urge her legs apart. “Put your legs around me.”
“Take off your pants first.”
“Later.”
Confused, she did as he asked, straining against him. Silk and denim still separated them. The sensual torture was incredible. His bare chest rubbed against her breasts. His hand beneath her hips lifted her higher and harder against him.
Kelly was certain she couldn’t take the teasing, the anticipation. The need in her was too great, had been building for too long. She ran her hands over his shoulders, his back, to his tapered waist and the seat of his jeans, urging him to step up the pace.
He eased away, gently guided her hands to her sides.
“This time’s for you, Kelly.”
She frowned, not sure what he meant, but thought fled when he ran a fingertip down the center of her chest, slid his palm between her legs and cupped her. Her hips bucked. Chills raced over her skin. Chills of desire. A desire she’d never, ever felt before.
He was taking her on an incendiary, anticipatory journey that frightened her, but one she desperately wanted to take.
When his fingers slid beneath her panties to touch her, to delve inside, she thought she’d go mad. He gave, unselfishly, asking for nothing in return. She wanted to participate, but her limbs felt heavy, her mind blank except for the exquisite sensations coursing through her body.
Time seemed to stand still, to wrap them in a cocoon of sensation, of discovery. With his lips and tongue and his body, he tasted and touched every inch of her, aroused her to the point of pain. She ached. Not like the ache of a headache. A pleasurable ache.
She sucked in a breath as his tongue drew a moist line over her abdomen. Slipping the silk panties down her legs, he kissed her in the most intimate way a man could kiss a woman.
“Wait…” The objection that came with her flash of uncertainty died in her throat. Not only had he introduced her to new Christmas traditions, he was creating sensual firsts. Extraordinarily sensual ones.
It was too much. And not nearly enough. Sensations raced through her system like a powerful drug. She couldn’t hold a thought, couldn’t catch her breath.
The fire crackled and popped. The orgasm that ripped through her drowned out sound. Nothing existed in that moment except Chance.
Pulling her hands away from his, she snatched at his shoulders, touched him where she could, her movements fevered, her body pulsing. She jerked open the snap of his jeans, unzipped them before he could stop her, shoved her hand inside and closed her fingers over the steel-hard length of him.
He sucked in a breath. “Oh, baby, wait—”
“No way.” She rolled with him, took control. She wanted to climb right inside his body, feel all of him, experience all of him. She’d never, ever, had such a fierce desire to touch a man, to know him, explore him, consume him. She wanted to give him the same incredible pleasure he was giving her.
Denim chaffed against her bare skin. The teeth of his zipper scraped against her thigh. She slid down his body, pulled off his jeans, then fitted herself over him, from neck to toes, touching, rubbing, aching.
His hands cupped her behind, pressed, rocked her against his straining arousal. Taking her by surprise, he rolled and swept her beneath him.
“I’m…” Her breath was coming so fast it burned her lungs. “I’m not through.”
“And neither am I.”
She looked up into his hot blue eyes. She’d pushed him to his limit. She could see that. Triumphant, she drew up her knees, opened for him.
He reached across her, yanked open the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a box of condoms.
Kelly let out a feminine laugh she’d never heard from herself before. “A whole box?”
His mouth kicked up at the corners. “I figured we better make sure that headache doesn’t come back.”
“What headache?”
He smiled, then kissed her as though he wanted to absorb her right into his soul. Where before their movements were fevered, now they were gentle. “Hold on tight.”
He entered her, filling her, sating her before he’d hardly even started. She couldn’t explain the feelings washing over her in wave after wave of ecstasy. Was afraid to try.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he slid in and out, holding his weight off her, never taking his gaze from hers. Sensations built and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open.
He pressed high and hard, watched her.
He was following through on his promise.
This wasn’t about sex.
This was making love.
Reverently, thoroughly, then with increasing tempo, he did exactly that. He made love to her, mind, body and soul. He took from her, but oh,
he gave so much more in return.
Spellbound, he held her in a sensual trance, focusing his entire being on her pleasure. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his movements, taste it on his lips.
He gave and he gave. And Kelly could only hold on as he’d asked, go along for the ride, flying on the wings of a desire so hot it scorched her from the inside out, squeezed her heart, changed her life.
He slid his palms beneath her, tilted her hips to meet his deepening thrusts. Digging her heels into the mattress, she met him, matched him, urged him on.
And like a rushing river sweeping her along without a will, she shattered around him, rode the crest of bliss as she felt him reach his own peak. What had taken place between them in this bed went beyond the realm of even her deepest fantasies, a joining that had touched her soul and laid her emotions bare.
She was afraid, so very afraid that she’d given up a part of herself that she’d never be able to take back.
That she’d never want to take back.
Chapter Eleven
One look at the clock and Kelly knew she was late. Very late. Chance was already gone and she’d overslept. Little wonder after the night they’d spent together.
Oh, Lord, she thought, her heart racing. Maria was likely to catch her in Chance’s room. She flew out of the bed, snatched up her clothes and raced to her own room, where she showered and dressed in record time.
Coffee, she thought. Then a phone call to check on the kids. She’d have to go pick them up, which would put her at the clinic even later.
She pulled up short when she saw Chance in the kitchen, the coffeepot in his hand. A glance at the clock told her he was late, too.
“I’m sorry. I overslept.”
The intimacy of his look warmed her. This was going to be awkward, she decided. It was the very thing she’d fought from the beginning, knowing that if they acted on the attraction between them, it would make it next to impossible to work side by side, day after day. Now what?
“Coffee?” he asked, standing there as though he had all the time in the world. Which she knew he didn’t. She’d booked the appointments for him herself.