Perfecting For Love - A Standalone Novel (A Doctors Romance Love Story) (Burbank Brothers, Book #3)

by Naomi Niles

  I immediately pushed back my chair and kissing Dad on the cheek and giving Carla a peck, I made my exit. “Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Carla. It was absolutely delicious. Dad, I’ll see you later this week,” I said, sliding into the sleeves of the jacket Bob held for me. Dad raised his hand in acknowledgement to me and Carla smiled supportively. Evidently she realized the men had crossed swords as well.

  Bob took me back to my firehouse and I made a point of stopping in the doorway. “Bob, thank you for doing this. It was a lifesaver. I’ll try not to ask it of you again,” I told him.

  “How about I walk you up and tuck you in for a nap?” he offered suggestively.

  I shook my head. “No, no, I’m fine. Thanks again and I’ll call you this week. I’m sorry I’m not being more gracious for all your effort, but I really want to lie down,” I finished, backing up from the doorway and beginning to close the door.

  “You’re sure?” he offered again.

  “Yup. Bye, Bob,” I said, closing the door gently, but quickly. I turned and faced into the bay, tears spurting from my eyes in misery as I thought about Sean. I picked my way upstairs and pulled off my clothes as I headed to the bed, letting them fall where they may. I fell into my bed and drew the covers up around my ears. I didn’t care who or what happened from that point on as I withdrew into a miserable, fetal position and went to sleep.

  I knew what was bothering me.

  I was pregnant.

  Chapter 27

  The next morning, nausea awakened me and I barely made it to the bathroom. The dinner from the day before left me and I sat on the floor, a wet cloth over my face in misery. How could everything have gone to Hell so quickly?

  When the spasms eased and I could stand again, I staggered back to the bed and lay down, my thoughts swirling. I had plans to make and it was important to think things through. I forced myself to concentrate when all I wanted to do was to return to the arms of passive sleep.

  I’d known I was pregnant for more than a week. I’d missed my cycle, which wasn’t unusual for me. But when the second time came and went, I knew I something was up. A home pregnancy test confirmed it. I hadn’t been to the doctor yet; for some reason, I didn’t want to see it in black and white and I had no idea what I was going to do about it. One thing was for sure: I couldn’t tell Dad.

  I did something I hadn’t done for a very long time: I got dressed and rode the subway. I changed to the train at one point and rode the cars until I was far out on the island and could sit on the beach and look out to the sea. There was so much thinking to do.

  I was glad I’d brought my heavy coat; one tends to forget how cold it can be at sea. The city had buildings to shield the winter’s remaining gusts, but at the edge of the sea, it was just you, and your conscience. I’d brought mine with me that day. It was sitting heavily and I shifted as I thought through things.

  I thought about the tiny life inside me and I knew I had options to end the entire mess in a doctor’s sterile office. Dad would never know and I would always remain his little girl of whom he could be proud and feel that he’d accomplished a job well done. Sean would never find out and he wouldn’t be tempted to rescue me—to scoop me up and carry me off to Iowa where the child would be raised among the corn stalks and be like Sean, with few options. I knew that wasn’t entirely fair, but I also knew that it was the only thing that Sean would be able to do. Then, I had the option of raising the baby myself and turning my face into what was sure to be an onslaught of family and friend disapproval. It would be very difficult to support a child on my salary, especially when it meant I didn’t have room for a nursery and no daycare options.

  I felt tears in my eyes; they never made it down my cheeks, but dried in the blustery wind. I knew the truth; I did not want to give up the baby I carried. I never had believed in that option from the beginning and even though I found myself giving thought to it now, I knew I couldn’t do it. I had been raised to respect human life that was created in consensual love. My dad had raised me to respect life and had risked his own every day of his career with that mindset. I knew I would keep the baby. All that remained was to figure out how.

  I made my way home and felt good for the outing. I’d silently prayed on the way home and asked for the path to be revealed. I just hoped I was smart enough to see it.

  * * *

  There was voicemail for me. It was John Warner and he was asking me to come into the office. I felt a momentary flare of fear and tried to quell it in a hot shower. I had to recognize that I’d already chosen the path of keeping my child and raising it alone. Now would begin the resistance. I knew there was a rough road ahead and as strong as I believed myself to be, I knew I would get through it.

  I made it to his office and he was waiting for me.

  “Pack your bags,” he said, unceremoniously.

  “I beg your pardon?” All I could hear was that I’d just been fired. Panic hammered the blood in my ears.

  “I said, throw your clothes in a suitcase and be on the next plane to Indiana; South Bend to be exact.”

  Was I being sent into exile even before anyone knew what was going on with me? At least I wasn’t being fired. “Can I ask for details?”

  “It’s in the envelope,” he said, handing me a manila envelope that was thick and weighty. He was puffing away on his stub and had already gone back to work.

  “Ohhhhhkay,” I muttered and turned to go into the next room and see what the contents held.

  Martha looked over her shoulder. “You’re going to love Indiana, you know.”

  “Oh?” I looked up and wondered what she meant.

  “It’s in the middle of nowhere. A girl can do just about anything there and no one will know.”

  My mouth dropped open and I quickly snapped it shut. It was almost as if…

  “I do.” Her words were concise and to the point.

  “You…” I let the thought trail for her to fill in.

  “You can handle it. You’re strong. You’re resourceful. You got a job here, didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. I felt like I was in a nightmare and that Martha knew my secret.

  “I do,” she repeated.

  I walked over to her desk and leaned far inward so I couldn’t be overheard. “What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t know?” she asked, peering over her glasses.

  “Know what?”

  “I’m psychic. Hell, I thought I told you that the first day.” She went back to opening the mail.

  “What does that mean?” Was she crazy? Guessing? Either way, I wasn’t going to feed her with news.

  “Let me spell it out for you, girly. I can see things about other people. Sometimes remotely, but generally when they’re in the room with me. I know about the baby and while I’m not sure whose it is, it really doesn’t matter because you’re in a pickle and still deciding how to get yourself out of it.” She was blunt.

  I thought I would vomit on her desk. “Are you kidding?”

  “Am I?”

  I turned away and looked out the short windows at the sky. It was clouding up and probably would rain. “No, you’re not wrong. I don’t know how you know, but you hit it on the head.” I swirled. “Oh, my god, Martha. You can’t say anything about this. I can’t lose my job. Please? It’s all I have. Without it, I might be forced to give up the baby and I don’t want to do that.”

  “Nah. I don’t tell him,” she motioned with her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Warner’s office. “He’s an ass. Asses can’t be trusted; they always want to use what they know to their own advantage. No, girly, your secret is safe with me. Anyway, what I was trying to say is that Indiana is a good place to go through what lies ahead.”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I still can’t believe you never let on to me that you knew.”

  She looked up again and spread her hands in defeat. “You’re never in here. I can’t be watching you all the time, you know. I have to look after
others, too.”

  I nodded toward Warner. “Does he know?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head and a sly grin appeared on her face. “Are you kidding? He thinks I’m the damned best secretary God ever made and that’s just fine with me. I anticipate his needs because I hear them as soon as he thinks of them. I remind him when he forgets and I often have to straighten his ass out by planting thoughts that he wouldn’t have on his own. Nah… it’s sort of like a game for me. I like messing with his head and he doesn’t even know it.”

  I wanted to be Martha. I wanted to have that power, to plant thoughts and to read minds. How wonderful would that be?

  “Why, Martha, you sly thing, you. I need to write a story on you!”

  “Are you kidding?” she mimicked horror. “Hell, no. They’d put me in some carney side show or on Geraldo.”

  “He doesn’t have a show any more.”

  “No? Well, shit. I sort of liked him.”

  “Don’t you watch TV?” I couldn’t believe the conversation we were having. This woman knew things in advance, but didn’t keep up with current events.

  “No. Why should I?” She presented perfect logic.

  “Okay, so you’re saying that whatever is in this manila envelope is the answer to my prayers?”

  “Yup.”

  “And you’re saying you know everything that’s in this envelope?” I held it up like an attorney presenting evidence to the judge.

  “Yup.”

  “That’s amazing!”

  “Nope. Who do you think put all the stuff in the envelope?”

  My shoulders dropped and a grin broke out on my face. “You sly… well, I’m going to say it… you sly bitch!”

  She beamed. “Thank you.” The glasses came off and she polished them with the hem of her blouse. “Okay, so now get your ass out of here and pack your bags. Say your goodbyes and get on that plane. Everything is going to be okay, girlie. I promise.”

  I leaned over her desk and surprised her with a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Martha. You’re a doll!”

  I headed for the door but her voice stopped me. “Do me one favor, okay?”

  I turned, afraid for what was coming.

  “Don’t name the baby after me. No one should go through life being named Martha.”

  I grinned and then realized the import of what she said. “Are you suggesting it’s a girl?”

  “Ain’t suggesting anything. Bye.” With that, she turned away and went back to her work as if I wasn’t standing there, my mouth opened in amazement.

  Chapter 28

  Sean was waiting for me when I got home. I felt, rather than saw him moving toward me in the dim light of the bay. I sensed his energy nearby and I heard his words, “Don’t be afraid; it’s me.”

  “Sean, what you saw the other day… it wasn’t what you thought. You leaped to conclusions…”

  He came closer, as though I’d not said a single thing.

  “Show me,” he said in a deep, but tender voice.

  I paused mid-action. What was he referring to? “Show you what?”

  The bay was completely dark with the lights off. I was startled to feel his hand on my lower belly. “This,” he said.

  I started. “My belly?”

  “Yes,” he whispered and drew my hand up and kissed my palm, his tongue tracing the soft skin between my fingers.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “This is my job interview. I never told you, but I’m an artist. An illustrator, to be more exact. That’s how I drew up those plans for the apartments. I want you to see what I can do. Hush now and let me show you.” His voice was in my ear and it sent delicious chills down my back. “Is the door locked?”

  “Yes,” came my response in a hoarse voice.

  “Good. You’re my prisoner now.”

  I held still as his tongue found my ear and the chills intensified. He knew my weak spot; or at least one of them. He hadn’t dropped my hand, but was now pulling at me to follow him. Sean drew me into the bedroom he was building into one of the apartments. There, he had a work table set up with prints and various papers. He swept these to the floor.

  “What are we doing? What are you up to?”

  My answer came as part of his turning on the lamp used for close-up, fine detailed work in the drawings. It threw a spotlight on the work table. The next part of my answer came as the arm that pulled me into the room now slid beneath my bottom and I was lifted upward.

  “What…” I tensed with surprise.

  “Relax,” came the voice and I felt compelled to do as asked. “Shhh—just breathe, and don’t speak.”

  I nodded and the arm laid me on the work table. I held my breath as the arm left and I saw Sean produce a thick portfolio case. Ah, so he’s going to show me samples of his work, I thought. That explained it. Good thing I didn’t get the wrong idea—not that I wouldn’t have been all over him.

  I was wrong.

  In the dim outer limits of the lamp’s reach, I saw him remove a small box with a cord. He bent to plug it into the wall and I heard a click. The room was suddenly overcome with an explosion of tiny pinpoints of colored light, dancing over the walls and ceiling in alternating patterns. I felt as though I was lying in the midst of a sky filled with fireworks. It was entrancing. I wanted to cry out and ask him where he’d found such a thing, but knew to remain quiet.

  Next from the portfolio came a slender, black case, and as he opened it, a selection of brushes and acrylic paints were revealed. A tray fitted into the lid became a palette. I waited expectantly and now understood why he wanted me on the table; it was so I would have the best vantage of whatever presentation he was about to make with the firework lights in the background.

  I was wrong again.

  Sean’s hand directed the light over my waist and his fingers were at the button of my waistband. I held my breath as with excruciating slowness, he lowered my zipper and with a hook of his finger, pulled at my panties. He seemed patient, but I could hear his breathing grow deeper. He hadn’t progressed far enough to see my belly, but I knew that’s what he was after. I tensed inside, afraid the baby might already be showing a bit.

  I was blinded by the lightshow and it unexpectedly emphasized my other senses, including touch. I felt his hands on my hips and he was lowering my slacks, peeling them off until I heard them scuff the floor. That was when an almost ceremonial lowering of my panties revealed my belly, as well as my freshly-shaved woman’s valley, and I heard an intake of his breath. “You’re stunning,” he rasped.

  I remained silent.

  The buttons of my blouse were his next focus and a hand slid beneath me to unsnap my bra. With a magician’s reveal, he removed them and my naked skin was open to his eyes, lit in the spotlight with the maelstrom of pinpoint lights falling opportunely upon my nipples and lips. The man… the artist… had created something extraordinarily sensual in an otherwise dusty and routine room.

  The truly extraordinary, however, was yet to come.

  Sean expeditiously created his own reveal, removing his clothes to stand next to the table, naked and with an immense erection—so hard as to stand outward, its tip grazing my hip. I heard my own breathing deepen and my nipples grew hard.

  He saw this, but with the temptation of the devil himself, he withheld his touch. At least for the moment.

  In the vague, almost melodic lighting, I watched as he put dabs of paint on his palette, mixing them into the hues he desired. His manhood hovered and I spotted a bit of white at its tip—begging to be licked off. I had to close my eyes to maintain my self-control.

  I felt a cool droplet and looked down to see that the artist had emerged. With a paintbrush in one hand, Sean had bent low over my clit, a telltale spot of inadvertently-dropped paint resting at the entrance to my cave. His hand was suspended over me, as if contemplating whether to include the spot of paint or to remove it. I looked at his face and could see the indecision. I knew he was highly aroused – the e
vidence continued to brush my hip. Who would triumph? The artist, or the man?

  It was neither.

  He laid the paintbrush onto the palette and gently, but firmly pushed my thighs apart until I was opened to his eyes. A finger touched the soft skin beneath my clit, beginning a circular motion that was so soft, it sometimes felt undetectable. The finger crept lower and without insertion, pressed into the arch of my bottom. In the wake of his touches, I felt a craving that deepened as it progressed, methodically and ever upward. He knew exactly what he was doing and I was reeling from his expertise.

  Sean lay one finger on either side of my clit, inserting them enough to lay me open, as the petals of a virginal spring flower. As I shivered with anticipation, he lowered his head and ran his lips over the tender skin—kissing the nub that called to him for attention. He inserted a finger deeper and withdrew it slowly, glistening with my juices. I felt faint, but knew it was passion focusing on the sensations.

  In an athletic move, Sean suddenly mounted the table and was straddling me, crouching as he opened me wide and penetrated me with the gentleness of a lover and the strength of a victor. I gasped with the sudden influx of sensations and the muscles of my vagina spasmed and held him within. He began to move rhythmically up and down, each probe seeking to go more deeply within me. At the same time, he reached for the paint box and a brush appeared in his hand. He continued to move within me, but leaned forward and made brush strokes around my nipples.

  This was unlike anything I could have ever imagined. My body responded of its own volition, but he was ultimately in control. He rode me gently, but deeply, conserving his strength and displaying immense self-control.

  At the same time, the master was at work. Even from my angle of perspective, I could see he knew what he was doing. The heavens, complete with planets, distant stars, meteors, and mysterious dark holes were being created across my breasts. My areolas were twin suns: deep yellow with my crimson, hard nipples as their fiery centers. The light sensations from the brushes were connecting my breasts to my vagina and the result was growing by the moment.