The Doctor and His Billionaire

by Turner, CJ

  “Oh,” gasped Chase. His breathing sped up.

  “Sssh,” Brad said almost under his breath. Chase bucked under his hand. “And don’t move.”

  “Oh, hell. I’m–” Chase shivered, and Brad got the message. Chase was close to coming. But Brad didn’t want this to end so soon.

  “Sssh,” reiterated Brad. He slowed and waited until Chase’s breathing calmed. Then Brad casually slumped in his seat, so he could reach further and curled his fingers around Chase’s balls. They drew tight to his body, and Chase shivered more, trying not to move or make a sound as Brad reached further and stroked Chase’s taint.

  “You’re a demon or an angel,” gasped Chase.

  “Sssh,” said Brad. And then to up the stakes, he added, “Each time you make a sound, I’ll slow down and make you wait some more.”

  Chase huffed but shut his eyes tight and nodded his head once more. Brad smiled, enjoying the tortured expression on the sexy doctor’s face, which made Brad’s cock throb. When Chase’s breath slowed, Brad started again. In no hurry, he laid his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He enjoyed the feel of silk-within-steel of the man’s hard dick.

  Then unexpectedly Chase moved closer and, without preamble, unhitched Brad’s belt, and slipped his hand inside of Brad’s slacks. He turned his head and stared deep into Brad’s eyes.

  “I take it,” said Brad, “that you’re left-handed.”

  “I am,” said Chase with a smile. And damn it, that sexy smile melted Brad.

  It became a duel at that moment who would bring the other off first. Chase gave as good as he got, and they both were biting their lips as each got close, and the other pulled back. Brad lost count of how many times Chase brought him to the edge and then stopped, and it was driving him insane.

  “This is your Captain. We’ll be landing at St. Croix. We’ll start our descent shortly. Please remain in your seats until we tell you to debark. Thank you for flying with us.” The flight attendants snapped different doors shut in the galley, and then the sounds quieted. They must have strapped into their seats.

  “I think it’s time to bring this bad boy to a landing,” said Chase.

  Brad smirked. “First one that lands buys dinner.”

  Chase chuckled as if he had an evil plan. He did.

  Between Chase’s finger massage and the plane dipping to land, Brad’s breathing sped, and his heart thundered. The plane bumped onto the runway. The engines whined, and Brad’s vision went white. He spurted over Chase’s hand, and Chase let loose over Brad’s while letting out an audible gasp.

  “Damn,” Chase said in his sexy Southern accent. Brad thought he could listen to that voice forever.

  Chase used his napkin from his sandwich to mop the mess in his hand, while Brad used his cloth handkerchief from his jacket pocket. Chase chuckled. “I guess we didn’t think that through, did we?”

  “At least we followed through. That’s more important.”

  Chase quirked that sexy smile of his, and Brad nearly sighed. This man could be addictive.

  “Let’s go see if our luggage made the trip with us,” said Chase.

  “And then after that—”

  “Sirs, if you’re ready to debark—” said the flight attendant. “First class does get off first.”

  “Yes,” said Brad. “It does.”

  Chase rubbed his forehead while he chuckled. “Let’s go.” Being aisle seat, Brad led the way ahead of Chase out of the plane. He strode down the movable steps to the tarmac into a moonless Caribbean night. He slung off his jacket and stepped aside as Chase descended the stairs. He moved to walk with him, but then a woman rushed toward Chase.

  “Dr. Chase! I’m Hedy. The hospital administrator sent me to pick you up. You look exactly like your picture. I’ll take you to the hospital. It’s a bit crazy here, but my cousin will find your luggage and send it to the hospital.”

  A group of people walked before Brad in a steady line, and when Chase looked back, his mouth formed a hard line. The woman took his arm and, chatting excitedly, led the doctor away.

  What did the frown mean? Was Chase unwilling to see Brad?

  Biting back his disappointment, Brad decided to track down Delacroix, the manager of the distillery. But when he arrived at Delacroix’s cottage in a housing tract off Rum Factory Road, he found it destroyed by the hurricane. Brad sighed. Finding the man and his family would be more complicated than he thought.

  What the hell will I do now?

  At that moment, Delacroix’s dog rushed at Brad then to the house barking, and Brad got the idea that he needed to investigate what got the dog so upset.

  Chapter 7

  Chase

  Hedy kept a running commentary as she drove toward through the nighttime streets of St. Croix. They hadn’t stopped to find Chase’s suitcase. Hedy explaining that things were chaotic as the airport, said her cousin who worked there, would find and transport Chase’s luggage to the hospital. Now in the car, he regretted agreeing to that idea. Chase had no idea where he was going or how he’d end up at Alister’s condo, but he had to trust that this woman was from the hospital and he wouldn’t end up beaten in some alley.

  Gee, when did you get so morbid?

  Chase blew a breath. When Brad disappeared after leaving the plane, it was a punch in the gut. The first time Chase let his guard down and—nothing.

  It’s just as well. You shouldn’t have let it get as far as it did. You dodged a bullet.

  Chase tried to convince himself it was better Brad took a hike. But Chase’s heart wasn’t on board with the program. He stared out of the car window, watching the fleeting lights playing on the water in the bay with the barest of a shimmer. It struck him that his life was just as ephemeral. Chase interacted with hundreds of people a week and yet did not have one person he shared details with. It left a hollow sensation in his chest, as if the very air he breathed held no oxygen to sustain him. His chest tightened, and his throat grew thick. Damn it, he must have a case of burnout because he’s usually more steady than this.

  But he dare not fall apart now. Chase was here for a particular job, not to play around, and he’ll do it.

  “I know you can’t see in the dark, but the hurricane destroyed many homes. Flattened. There are many missing people too. We get calls all the time asking, “Has this person come into your hospital?” We have admitted people and we don’t know their names. It’s chaotic, and the government can’t seem to help much. That government agency for disaster relief—”

  “FEMA?”

  “Yes, that one. But we are far from the mainland, and much aid comes on ships. We’ve got some food air-dropped, but the government has its hands full getting it distributed. Every day, people go to the center of town and wait for the supplies. And each day, there is not enough for the people that need it.”

  Chase felt like a jerk. How could he worry about a relationship that never was when there were so many people suffering?

  “I’m sorry, Hedy, that you’ve had to go through all this.”

  “I’m okay, and so is my family. It’s everyone else that is having problems. You’re here to help us out, and that’s a wonderful thing. Thank you, Dr. Chase.”

  “You’ve nothing to thank me for yet.”

  “Oh, do not worry, Dr. Chase. We will thank you many more times while you are here. You’ll get used to it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  The road brightened with street lights as they drove toward a two-story building washed with outside lights. Letters on the outside announced the name of the facility. Even though it dominated this tiny corner of the island, the building’s diminutive scale contrasted with the large medical centers he had worked and trained in. They needed help because of the tragedy because they just didn’t have the resources a mainland state would.

  He stepped out into the warm island night, which was another contrast. While Colorado sported moderate or hot temperatures during the day, the nights would dip twenty-five to th
irty degrees lower. Plus, Colorado mountain air was perpetually dry, while St. Croix hosted moisture-filled air.

  No problem with sinuses here, he thought. It was a useless thought, but then useless thoughts helped to push away the crowding memories of the briefly-met man.

  Once inside the hospital, he snapped into professional mode, especially as he took in the familiar sights and sounds of the white walls, linoleum floors, gurneys, wheelchairs, and the ever-present beeps of medical equipment. Hedy waved or said hello to staff in scrubs, and Chase quickly acclimated to the color-coding of the surgical garb that all staff wore. A man in his forties approached and offered his hand. “Hello, you must be Dr. Chase. I’m Dale Jones, the hospital administrator. We’re glad you arrived. Alister Grant can’t say enough good things about you. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but we could use help with this shift. Search and Rescue just found five people under rubble and extracted them. They will be here shortly. Here’s an ID badge for you. Your administrator sent over your records and it included a picture, so we used that. If you can sign these papers … ”

  Like Hedy, Dale Jones kept talking. Chase wondered if this was an island trait, or he happened upon two chatty people in a row. But soon, they made a sweep of the ER where the head nurse, Gloria, introduced him to staff. She showed him where the supplies, the scrubs, and the shower were, and he readied for work.

  The attending physician, Austin Phillips, put Chase on triage probably to gauge his abilities, which was okay with Chase. After the third man, Phillips pulled him into a patient’s room. “I can use help here.”

  The night passed through several cups of coffee and a slew of emergencies. His next case was a small girl, dirt-streaked and looking lost, sitting on the hospital bed.

  The EMT blew a relieved breath when Chase entered the room.

  “Hey, who do we have here?” said Chase.

  “We found her in a hurricane-destroyed house. Luckily, her parents thought to put her in the bathtub.”

  “And the parents?”

  The EMT shook his head.

  “Do you know where my daddy is?” she said.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Bittan,” she said.

  “What’s your last name, Bittan?”

  “Where’s my doggie? Where is Sammie? Sammie was barking for me.”

  The poor girl started crying.

  “Hey, it will be okay,” said Chase. He didn’t know how it would be. She had just lost her parents.

  “Hey, let’s play a game. Open your mouth wide, and I’ll flash my light in there. I bet you have a big old cave for a mouth, don’t you?”

  Bittan shook her head. Geez, she was an adorable little girl with wide blue eyes, pretty light brown skin, and long brown hair in curled ringlets. It clutched at Chase’s heart that she suffered a tragedy at this tender age. He guessed, since she had her front teeth, she was seven or possibly eight.

  He continued to examine her and found, fortunately, nothing wrong.

  Aside from the losing the parents thing.

  But what would happen to her now? Chase ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t know how this hospital handled such cases. There had to be a social service that helped lost children, especially during hurricanes.

  He needed to find out.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Chase.

  “Don’t leave me,” she said. Damn it. The girl suffered enough trauma. He helped her from the hospital bed. Holding her hand, he walked to the nurses’ station, but no one was there.

  “Bittan?” said a familiar gravelly voice. “Thank goodness, I found you.”

  Chase turned to see Bradley Hunt. His heart stopped as he took him in. Brad’s eyes were red-rimmed as if he’d been up all night.

  “Uncle Brad!” Bittan twisted from Chase’s grip and flew into the man, who lifted her into his arms.

  “Obviously, she knows you,” said Chase.

  Brad glanced at Chase, and his eyes widened. “You’re here.”

  “How did you—” Chase stopped. He didn’t know what to say.

  Brad grimaced. “I had gone to their house and found their springer spaniel, Sammie, going crazy, so I figured he smelled something. It took the emergency crew all night to get to her. The ambulance crew insisted on bringing Bittan to the hospital to get checked out. With the road blockages, it wasn’t easy to get here. Is she okay?”

  “Physically, she’s fine.”

  “Good. Then I guess I should get her settled.”

  “Where will you take her?”

  “To my condo until I can … ”

  Chase understood. Brad couldn’t be more specific without upsetting an already traumatized girl.

  “Hey, Bittan. Do you want to go with Uncle Brad here?”

  She nodded. “You come, too.”

  Chase swallowed hard. The girl delivered a punch to his gut.

  “I’m sure Dr. Chase is busy,” blurted Brad. Damn. With those words spoken too quickly, Brad delivered a second blow. Sure. Right. They just had a few minutes of fun on the plane. That’s all.

  Why can’t it be more?

  Chase shoved that thought away. “I am,” said Chase. “I don’t know when I can get away.”

  “Dr. Chase,” said a nurse. “Can you lend a hand?”

  “Sure. I must go.”

  Brad smiled weakly. “Okay. I'll catch up with you later.”

  “Sure,” said Chase. “Oh, and don’t forget to stop by registration and get the paperwork squared away.”

  With that, he sped off to the latest catastrophe, but not without a backward glance at Bradley Hunt, who walked away holding Bittan’s hand. Chase turned his head back quickly because he couldn’t bear to watch him walk out of his life. But how would he find a good reason to see him again?

  Then he came up with the perfect idea.

  Chapter 8

  Brad

  Brad’s house on Carden Bay was a millionaire’s ‘cottage’ only in name. With a spectacular view of the ocean, four bedrooms, baths, a tennis court, a gym, and a swimming pool, it was a breathtaking vacation spot. On the times that Brad had visited, he fantasized about happily settling here, but for the demands his father put on his time. Chester Hunt expected Bradley Hunt to take over as head of the corporation, and that was that. Bradley hadn’t minded. He enjoyed working in the business. It was the whole marriage deal with Terry that stuck in his gut. Sure, it had been his idea—a spectacularly terrible creation born of a misguided notion. He had wanted children, and now fate had dropped one in his path.

  But by the time they had reached the Hunt family house on Carden Bay, Bittan had melted down. She was a smart girl, and the changing housescapes told her they were traveling away from her home. Bittan had not yet realized that the hurricane had changed her life forever. She kept asking for her mommy, daddy, and Sammie, and Brad had no words nor the heart to tell her the truth of her life.

  It was only a thirty-minute drive, forty-five with a stop at a grocery to get supplies. Since the previous year, no one had been at the house, and Brad couldn’t count on the freshness of food in the house.

  “I want my mommy.”

  Brad’s heart hurt when he heard those words. He wished he could comfort her, but nothing could fix that trauma, except time. And even then, this day would live on in the girl’s nightmares. He wished he could locate Delacroix’s relatives, but so far, that proved fruitless too. Brad could reach no one from the distillery who might know if Delacroix had relatives to care for her. Anyone familiar would be better than a single man who was thrashing through his orientation issues.

  When he searched for Delacroix, he had the taxi driver drive past the distillery but found it locked tight. Spared by either luck or divine provenance, it was undamaged, unlike the houses in the surrounding area. The hurricane’s wrath destroyed the southwest end of the island around the area of Rum Factory Road, but the eastern finger with its high-end neighborhoods stood almost unscathed. On a few downed palm trees marked t
he passage of the vicious storm.

  “Would you like a cupcake?” Brad asked her. He had found chocolate unfrosted ones in the store.

  She nodded. “But mommy says I shouldn’t have sweets before dinner.”

  “I think once will be okay.” He unwrapped the cake, handed it to her, and hoped it would occupy her until they reached the house. His phone rang, and he checked to find it was the property management company.

  “Mr. Hunt.”

  “Hey, Robert.”

  “Electricity is down in many areas, but I found oil for your generators. I’ll run someone out to do the maintenance every two days. Your fridge will work and you can run a TV and the security system. You have cold water, but not hot. You’ll have lights, but not much else, not until they get the electricity fixed. I checked the gas stove, and it works, but if you smell gas, then get out of the house and call me. Sorry, your pool isn’t ready. It needs filling, and fresh water is in tight supply right now.”

  “Now that’s great. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

  “I located a case of water for you. Drink that instead of what comes out of the tap. The water conditioning unit is down.”

  “Again, thanks.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  The property manager clicked off the call, but his phone rang again. Terry. No. He did not want to speak to her, and Brad sent the call to voicemail. He was about to put his phone in his jacket pocket when his phone rang again. This time it was his father.

  He debated answering it when it quieted. Bullet dodged. He must speak to his father about the Bittan situation. When he heard, Brad was sure that Chester Hunt would want to set up a trust fund to ensure her care. But now, he needed to clean and feed Bittan. Maybe she would take a nap? Did seven-year-olds take naps?

  Great dad material you are.

  Apparently, seven-year-olds did not take naps. However, they did run around a great big house, poking their nose in every nook and cranny and smearing chocolate handprints from the cupcakes idiot guardians gave them. Brad didn’t know where she got the energy because he was exhausted watching her. She did not want a cold bath, and who could blame her. The best he could do was to wash her face and hands. He was also beside himself, trying to figure out what to put on her to replace her dirty clothes. His T-shirts were way too large for her tiny body.