Miracle for the Neurosurgeon

by Lynne Marshall

  They were oddly quiet the entire drive home, and she chalked it up to the life-changing plans that might or might not be carried out. Would she be signing a contract tonight?

  Once there, he again asked her to wait so he could help her out of the car. A true and extremely appealing gentleman.

  “Come inside with me.”

  It wasn’t a question. And the commanding delivery excited her. She followed, nearly holding her breath.

  Rita had left wine chilling in the living room. In all the weeks Mary had been coming to the house, she’d yet to sit in this huge and beautifully furnished room. She sat on the edge of a modern and comfortable couch, so he could roll his wheelchair next to her and serve her another glass of wine. She’d had enough at the restaurant, but sipped to be polite, while he enjoyed his drink. He’d only had one with dinner, no doubt because he was driving. Now they were on his turf, he could relax. And if they were about to have the conversation she hoped they would, maybe he’d need a little something to loosen him up, just like she already had.

  Why did she suddenly feel like she needed more?

  Surprisingly, they never broached the topic in question for the next hour.

  “Remember that time you and Alex snuck Dad’s car and came to visit me at UCLA?”

  “And we ran out of gas halfway there and had to beg you to come save us? Oh, how could I ever forget? You were so pissed off.”

  “I was, but I was still glad to see you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. All I remember was you huffing around, scowling, cussing and lecturing us.”

  “I was worried about you. Both of you. By the way, whose idea was it?”

  She went coy, but honestly couldn’t remember whose bright idea it had been. “Alex’s?”

  He obviously liked it when she left him dangling, never knowing for sure if Mary had wanted to see him that night, or if Alex had just wanted to test out her new driving skills. He took her chin between his thumb and index finger.

  “Look at me. Tell me it wasn’t you.”

  She tossed her gaze toward the ceiling. “I honestly don’t remember.”

  He’d had his ego stroked enough by that stage in his life, why add to the once but never forgotten Prince of Westwood’s inflated pride? Besides, she preferred the humbler man she’d come to know these last several weeks. By far.

  Giving up on ever knowing the truth about the UCLA caper, he moved on. So they continued to reminisce about old times, laughing and teasing each other with embarrassing stories. Letting each other know they’d never forgotten the times they’d shared. She decided it was his way to court and woo her, and for his efforts she felt very grateful. The other—the bargain—would feel so cut and dried otherwise.

  Out of the blue she leaned over and kissed him. Yes, she’d had another glass of wine and felt bold, but it was more because of how sweet and attentive he’d been over dinner and was continuing to be back home. “Why don’t you scoot out of that thing and join me here on the couch?”

  He flashed a dashing smile with a hint of danger, his cheeks touched pink from the agreeable wine. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  He made the transfer with ease, and she snuggled into him, his hand resting on her thigh, lightly rubbing and kneading her skin.

  “So we’ve got an agreement to discuss.”

  “That we have,” she said, her heart picking up its rhythm at the mere mention of the topic. With his hand on her leg, she already felt he’d staked his claim for his bedroom.

  He traced his middle finger from her knee to her upper thigh. “The terms boil down to the proverbial—you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

  Aside from the fact his finger drove her wild, the absurd wording made her laugh. Scratching each other’s backs? “I didn’t expect you to get so technical about it.”

  He joined her laughter. They’d put themselves in an astoundingly awkward position, but neither, so far, had backed out. With his head resting comfortably against the back of the couch next to hers, the last bit of tension seemed to evaporate.

  He turned toward her, smiling, watching, making her feel special.

  “You know I could pay someone to do what I need, and you could pay a sperm bank, right?”

  “True.”

  “But what would be the fun of that?”

  “Also true, but a little scary.” She took his hand and squeezed.

  “I’m the one who’s got the most to prove,” he said. “What if you don’t get pregnant?”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  His hand broke free and he squeezed the muscles just above her knee. “We seem to be tossing around banal sayings tonight. I hope that isn’t an omen for how things go in there.” He pointed toward the ceiling, letting her figure out his bedroom was the one upstairs above the living room. Her stomach flip-flopped over the possibility of what might come next.

  “So I’ve made my decision, and I’ll accept your bargain under two conditions.”

  Her head popped off the couch. He’d finally gotten to the good part—helping her have a baby. “Yes? What’s that?”

  “You move into the house with me, so we can spend the rest of your time here, in Malibu, together.”

  She should have known he’d never go for such a cold and calculated plan as she’d offered. Honestly, she couldn’t imagine how things would actually work out—work out in the morning, sex in the afternoon. Back in the gym the next day.

  His compromise was a gentleman’s way of making their arrangement personal. Her pulse flittered at the possibility of becoming a bigger part of his life, which made her feel extremely turned on. This was her chance to finally get to know Wesley Van Allen in a way she’d only dreamed of before. Who needed to think about that?

  “And if you get pregnant, I want to be the dad. A real dad.”

  She almost slid off the couch. “You mean like sharing the responsibility? That’s exactly what I promised you wouldn’t happen.”

  “I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.”

  “But we won’t be together.”

  “And I don’t want to be written out of my child’s life.”

  “We don’t even know if I’ll get pregnant.”

  “Or that I can actually have sex.”

  “True. Maybe we should quit talking.”

  “Less talk, more action?”

  They laughed, realizing they’d resorted to yet another cliché.

  “It’s a deal.”

  Obviously happy, he leaned into her and they kissed. Soon passion heated the way, their kisses growing frantic, his hand, which shifted from her knee to the inside of her thigh, sending a thrill straight to her core. As he delved deeper with his mouth, hers welcoming him, his fingers found a way beneath the lace of her underwear, and soon their make-out session took on a whole new dynamic.

  And Wes knew exactly how to make this woman like putty in his hands.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AN HOUR LATER, Wes had proof the brain was definitely the biggest sex organ. Seeing Mary naked, knowing he’d made her come using his hands and his mouth, seeing how she still wanted him until they’d joined together, made every worry evaporate. He was a man who wanted a woman, and by some magic she’d shared with him he’d made love to her. Completely.

  That paraplegic girlfriend blogger had been right. The sex had been gratifying in ways he’d never imagined, and Mary had been the number one secret ingredient. He’d thought he’d known her body from working out with her every day with her wearing skimpy workout shorts and tops. But seeing her nude, feeling every inch of her satin skin, tasting her, inhaling her special scent, discovering what she liked and what she really liked, had been completely different from what he’d imagined. Damn, she was gorgeous, and sexy, and he’d sent her over the edge. Him, a guy who couldn’t use his legs or hips.

  She’d also made him feel something he’d never thought he’d feel again. When she’d orgasmed over him, he could have sworn he’d felt
her tightening around him—whether it was his imagination or had been real didn’t matter because he’d “felt” it, thanks to that huge sex organ called his brain—and he’d been as hot with desire as he’d ever been. That last special sensation of her rhythmically gripping him as she’d come had sent a message shooting straight up his spine. There was no denying that part. Then she’d assured him that he’d ejaculated.

  He’d never expected anything like that to ever happen again. Not because it wasn’t possible but because he’d snobbishly assumed it would never be good enough, so why settle or even try?

  Now they snuggled in his bed and, closing his eyes, holding and feeling her next to him, breathing his scent all over her, he remembered what a major part of being a man was. He’d made her his, and she’d willingly given him all she had. Nothing in the world felt better than that.

  He smiled into the darkness, stroking her shoulder as she curled into him.

  “That was nothing short of amazing,” she whispered.

  To hell with being humble. He’d done it for her, and she’d just told him it had been amazing. Yeah, that definitely got a grin out of him.

  *

  Mary couldn’t believe the way this day had wound up. She’d been bold enough to state her case and ask the most brilliant man she knew to father a baby with her—a guy who wasn’t sure if he’d ever have another intimate relationship again—and now she’d had the most astounding experience in her life.

  They’d always had sexual chemistry, had just never acted on it. Well, never completely acted on it, though they’d come pretty darn close at Alexandra’s wedding.

  The important thing now was to keep her head on tight, not let her thoughts float up to the rainbow-colored clouds that seemed to have appeared since Wes had said yes. Though he’d thrown her a curveball about wanting to be actively involved as her baby’s father; that was, if she actually got pregnant. She felt closer to him than she’d ever dreamed and realized she was in a precarious position. She’d helped him prove he could still be sexually active, which was great, but the down side was she’d have to leave soon, and now that he knew he could, a man like him would easily find someone else to carry on with.

  Jealousy threaded around her heart again, as it had so many times already that day.

  Why hadn’t she thought about that part of the deal when she’d gotten her bright idea about him fathering her child the old-fashioned way? Or his insisting he’d want to stay a part of her life if she got pregnant.

  Suddenly a seemingly straightforward plan had gotten surprisingly complicated. Maybe they should forget the whole thing.

  Too late. Things had changed between them now, in a major way. For the next few weeks it would be up to her to make sure the main reason she’d come to Malibu stayed in focus. To help Wes step back into his old life.

  He lay beside her, a contented expression on his face, the most relaxed she’d ever seen him. She put her chin on her hands that rested on his chest, and studied him.

  “What?” he said.

  No way could she let him know her true thoughts. That she loved being here with him. That in a sense it had been a dream come true. Boy, if she could only talk to her fifteen-year-old self right now—Just wait, one day you’ll be with him. She chuckled inside, and hoped he couldn’t read her mind from her delirious expressions. But being with Wes was so much more than that. The portion of life they’d staked out together in his gym had come to mean more than she’d ever hoped. Especially now. And she needed to put the kibosh on these useless, fanciful thoughts. “Don’t expect this to get you a free pass in the gym tomorrow.”

  “Slave driver.” He tightened his grip around her and kissed her forehead. They definitely had something good going on.

  And coming to Malibu to help an old friend could be the most dangerous thing she’d ever done in her life.

  *

  Of all times for Alexandra to call! Wes had sent Mary home early to pack up and move in with him. At least she didn’t have to lie when Alex asked what she was up to.

  “Just doing some straightening up around the house.” She used a damp paper towel from the kitchen and mindlessly wiped up dust on the counter in the kitchen so as not to be a liar.

  “Your house. Yes, that’s right, your tiny house. How’s that going?”

  “Great. Remember I sent you some photos when I first bought it?” Two years ago.

  “Vaguely. I’d assumed you’d be living in the house with Wes.”

  Was she a mind reader? “Why do that when I’ve got my lovely little house, and all that privacy?”

  “I guess you’ve got a point, but he’s got that gorgeous estate. But, oh, hey, I’ll get to see your house tomorrow in person.”

  “Tomorrow?” Mary’s casual cleaning motions quickly turned into a tornado of wiping and scrubbing.

  “Yes. I’ve just gotten off the phone with Wes and told him my plane arrives tomorrow at nine. Will you come get me?”

  She glanced at her phone, only then seeing the text slide in from Wes—Alex is coming!

  “Of course. Can’t wait to see you! How great. It’ll be like old times with the three of us together.” And no more “hot” nights with Wes until after Alex left, even though Mary was entering her ovulation period. “How long are you planning to stay?”

  “A couple of days.”

  Damn! “That’s wonderful.” Mary hoped she’d kept a cheerful tone in her voice, even though Alex’s visit would seriously mess with her and Wes’s plans. Between the sheets!

  Adjusting her attitude, Mary remembered Alex was, after all, her best friend for life, but her showing up at this crucial time of their bargain—and her cycle—would be challenging to say the least. She’d need to keep a poker face where Wes was concerned, but how could she hide her true feelings from her best friend? Freaking over the moon with the chance to get pregnant by the guy she’d had a crush on since she was fifteen, and now that guy had become the man who’d blown the roof off her sex life on their first encounter.

  “How’s my brother doing?” Alex asked, in a decidedly serious tone.

  Mary suppressed her cough. “Well. He’s doing well. Made a lot of progress.” Boy, had he ever! Did she mention he’d blown her mind sexually last night and had given her an incredible wake-up call just an hour ago? Not to Alex, she wouldn’t!

  “Mommy, Mommy.” Two tiny voices demanded their mother’s attention.

  “I’m going to have to go now. You’ll have to tell me all about Wes’s progress on the ride from the airport tomorrow.”

  “Are you bringing Rose?” Even now, frantic and surprised, Mary wanted a chance to hold that toddler who’d turned her world upside down the day she’d been born.

  “Not this trip. You’ll have to come here soon. Promise?”

  “Mommy!”

  “That’s a promise.”

  “I can’t wait to see both of you.”

  “Me too! I’ll meet you at baggage claim tomorrow.”

  Mary disconnected the call and closed her overnight case, since it would be a waste of time to pack it now. Her moving in with Alexandra’s big brother would have to wait a few more days, until after she’d gone.

  The next afternoon, Rita had put together a lovely spread of appetizers. Wes, Alexandra and Mary sat on the front patio, all taking in the sun, drinking sangria and snacking.

  “I’ve never seen you look so relaxed, Wes. I think Mary is a good influence on you.” Alex tucked her nearly black hair behind one ear. She wore it stylishly straight at chin length with Cleopatra bangs and looked much younger than thirty-five, especially with the midnight-blue highlights. Her long, narrow nose and coffee-brown eyes, so similar to her brother’s, gave nothing away if she was by any chance suspicious about why her brother was so relaxed.

  “We’ve gotten into a good routine, that’s for sure.”

  Mary nearly spewed her drink over Wes’s loaded response, but coughed and choked instead.

  “You okay?” Alexandra
tapped Mary’s back a few times until she settled down.

  “Went down the wrong way.” She glanced at Wes, that mischievous glint in his eyes sparkling in the sun, and sent him a warning, though stealthy glare, then quickly looked away.

  He popped a shrimp into his mouth and chewed vigorously. “We’ll have to show you the gym later. This crazy lady has me cycling and doing gymnastics workouts.”

  “Well, you’ve never looked fitter.”

  “He’s also thinking about going back to work again soon, right?”

  She’d caught him off guard, and it showed by the way he stopped reaching for the avocado dip. “Yes. I guess I am. Gonna get measured for this special wheelchair that can help me stand for surgery.”

  “Wow, that’s fantastic.”

  “I almost couldn’t believe it when he showed me the video of the doctor doing surgery in this futuristic-looking contraption,” Mary said.

  “I knew I’d done the right thing, begging you to come.”

  “Oh, we had a rocky start, but Wes is a reasonable guy.” And a maniac in the bedroom!

  Alex started giggling. “Oh, gosh, remember that time I stole my Dad’s car and we went to see Wes, but ran out of gas first?”

  They all laughed, Mary and Wes more so because they’d just been talking about that last night, BS—before sex.

  “How could I forget?” he said. “So whose idea was it anyway?”

  Mary’s eyes went wide. Damn.

  “Mary’s, of course. Come on, you must have known about her huge crush on you back then.”

  A Cheshire cat grin accompanied the “busted” stare coming from Wes. Her ears went hot.

  Over the two days of Alexandra’s visit Mary and Wes passed meaningful, though surreptitious looks when they all went to the movies that first night. Another thing Mary hadn’t realized Wes still liked to do. And after Alex and Mary had gone to the beach the next afternoon, Wes met them at the hot tub for a long and relaxing group soak.

  Dying to be with him, Mary found ways to touch him, and he did the same. “Oh, excuse me,” he’d say, after reaching across her and grabbing a sneaky squeeze on her thigh. His mere touch set off a path of thrills straight to her center. Or she’d lean over him, managing to brush her chest against his while reaching for a spa towel. When Alex wasn’t around, they’d grab quick kisses, filled with excitement and promises for make-up time soon. She’d done a lot of clenching by the end of day two.