Here I Am

by Rochelle Alers

  “Talking about it later isn’t going to change anything.” His voice was soft, coaxing.

  Chapter 11

  Brandt reached for Ciara’s hand, lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her hair. It smelled like fresh coconut. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  Ciara settled against Brandt’s chest and closed her eyes. What she was about to tell Brandt she had never disclosed to anyone, and that included her mother. She and her mother had a relationship based on an open dialogue, yet she didn’t and couldn’t tell Phyllis about her relationship with Dr. Victor Seabrook away from the bright lights and cameras. The closest she’d come to disclosing why she’d walked away from Victor was when she’d confessed to Sofia that he had attempted to control her life.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Where did you grow up? Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “I grew up about thirty miles west of Albany. My parents divorced the year I turned ten, after my mother discovered my father had another wife.” Brandt smothered a curse under his breath. Ciara smiled. “My sentiments exactly.”

  “So,” he crooned in her ear, “I don’t have to contribute to the cuss jar?”

  “Not this time. And to answer your question about siblings, I’m an only child. After high school I enrolled in a downstate college, graduating with a BS in nursing. Less than a year after working at the hospital I was attacked by a male patient…who claimed I’d teased him because I wore my uniforms too tight.”

  “Did he hurt you, Ciara?”

  She shook her head. “If you’re asking if he raped me, then the answer is no. If it hadn’t been for the other two patients in the room, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened. One rang the nurses’ station while the other shouted for help.”

  “Is that why you wear smock tops?”

  “Yes.”

  Brandt gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You can’t blame yourself for one sick son of a bitch.”

  Raising her chin, Ciara met Brandt’s eyes. They were cold, reminding her of chipped glass. “Tell that to a twenty-year-old.”

  “How old were you when you graduated college?”

  “Nineteen. I graduated from high school at sixteen.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  Burying his face in her hair, Brandt pressed a kiss against her scalp. “And after thirteen years you’re still hiding?”

  “I only wear the smocks when I have male patients.”

  “Does it work?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Ciara. It didn’t work with me, and do you know why?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You don’t realize how close you came to the truth when you called me Superman. You were deluding yourself when you tried hiding behind those ugly tops because I just happen to have X-ray vision.”

  Ciara laughed softly and shifted to a more comfortable position. “I’m not that gullible, Brandt.”

  Brandt kissed her hair again. “Tell me what he did to you. And you know I’m not talking about the patient who attacked you.”

  She inhaled, held her breath, then let it out in an audible sigh. “I was known at the hospital as the nurse with two looks: working girl and party girl. You’re familiar with the working girl and the other night you saw the party girl. It was my party-girl persona that caught the eye of a plastic surgeon—Dr. Victor Seabrook.” Ciara paused, waiting for Brandt to acknowledge that he recognized the name.

  “Go on,” Brandt urged when Ciara fell silent. Although he didn’t particularly like watching reality television, he knew the doctor’s name.

  “The first time Victor asked to take me out I turned him down. I’d gone back to school to get a graduate degree, because I’d wanted to go into psychiatric nursing, so between work and school I had very little time for socializing. A week after I was appointed to a position as a psychiatric nurse he asked me again and I accepted.

  “What had begun as casual dinner dates escalated to media gatherings with A-list actors and other celebrities. Victor insisted I have a new outfit for every occasion and he’d accompany me to the various shops and boutiques, personally selecting what he wanted me to wear. I was flattered by the attention, but after a while I felt as if I was being smothered. When I told him how I felt he’d dismiss me with a wave of his hand, saying most women would give anything to have their man pay them that much attention.

  “Initially I believed him, because my mother used to complain about marrying a salesman because my father was on the road more than he was at home. I rationalized, telling myself most women would love a man like Victor. He paid my rent, bought the groceries and paid for my clothes. The only thing he wanted was for me to be available for him when he needed sex, or a date.

  “I panicked the day he proposed marriage because I had to ask myself if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a man who controlled every aspect of my life and the answer was no. I told Victor I would have to think about it. That’s when he slapped me, saying I was an ungrateful bitch.”

  Every muscle in Brandt’s body tensed. “He hit you?”

  Ciara nodded, recalling the incident as if it’d occurred seconds ago. He’d struck her across the face with an open hand. She had been more stunned than hurt, but his intent was more to humiliate than hurt.

  “I screamed at him to get out of my apartment, or I would call the police and have him arrested for assault.”

  “Had he ever hit you before?”

  “No. It happened so quickly that it took a minute for me to react. I was so angry I couldn’t cry. I applied an ice pack to my jaw, called in sick and twenty-four hours later I’d made a decision that changed my life. I called my supervisor and told her I was sending off a certified letter verifying I was resigning because of burnout. A friend had purchased a two-bedroom co-op in West Harlem, and she was looking for a roommate. I told Sofia I had to get away from my boyfriend, so she sent her police officer brother and some of his friends to pack up my apartment while I moved in with her. I’m certain if I’d told Esteban that Victor had hit me he would’ve impounded his car, then waited for him to retrieve it and arrested him on some frivolous charge like spitting on the sidewalk.”

  “You’re lucky to have had friends who had your back.” Brandt didn’t want to think of some man slapping his sister, or any of his female cousins.

  “They’re the best.”

  “I take it you haven’t run into your ex since you left the hospital.”

  Ciara exhaled. “I saw him about a month ago at my former supervisor’s retirement party. He showed up even though he wasn’t invited because he knew I would be there. He said he wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t having any of it. I’d asked Esteban to come with me as my date, so when I told him my police officer boyfriend would like nothing better than to arrest him for stalking, he left.”

  “Is Esteban your boyfriend?” Brandt knew he sounded jealous, but he couldn’t help it. He had to know where he stood with Ciara before whatever they had went any further.

  “No. Esteban Martinez is a confirmed bachelor. It’s his fortieth birthday party that I’ve agreed to attend. Have you asked your mother to come over and stay with you?”

  Brandt shook his head. “No. I’ll be all right if I’m home alone for a few hours.”

  Ciara peered at Brandt’s distinctive profile. “I may not get back until late.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he countered. “Now about your ex. Let me handle everything.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he smiled. He released her hand. “I’m not going to bitch-slap him, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I also don’t want you to come with me.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Ciara. I’ll tell my agent that I’ll need someone to help me from the car to the hospital entrance, and then back again. There are going to be cameras and reporters
on hand because it will be a photo op. And I’m certain if reporters start asking questions, then your former coworkers will be more than forthcoming about you and your association with Dr. Seabrook. If he’d showed up to an event where he hadn’t been invited just to see you, what’s to say he won’t seek you out again if he knows you’re at the hospital?

  “Think about it, darling.” The endearment rolled off Brandt’s tongue like watered silk. “The man has to have a tremendous ego if he resorted to lashing out physically because you rejected him. After all, he’s the high-profile, hotshot doctor who’s probably used to women throwing themselves at him. But you’d become the exception and he couldn’t deal with it. Guys like Victor Seabrook are dangerous and crazy, Ciara, and it would be better if you avoided him.”

  “What I should’ve done was have him arrested for hitting me.”

  “Unless you had proof of physical injury, then it would’ve come down to a ‘he said, she said.’ Remember, he’s the celebrity and you would’ve been looked upon as the jealous or spurned girlfriend.”

  Ciara knew Brandt was right. The reason she hadn’t gone to the police to have Victor charged with assault was because she hadn’t wanted the publicity. Her position at the hospital would’ve been in jeopardy and her reputation tainted by the negative publicity. She’d taken the right course of action when she took steps to purge Victor Seabrook from her life.

  “Thank you for listening.”

  “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

  Cradling Ciara’s head, Brandt moved his mouth over hers, exploring the soft lips parting under his as he deepened the kiss. The tip of her tongue touched his, pulled back, then emerged again.

  His lips left hers to taste her earlobe, her neck, breathing a kiss there before returning to the sexy mouth that had the power to make him say and do things he hadn’t thought possible.

  Ciara surrendered to the slow, seductive kisses that were as potent as any drug. Shifting, she turned toward Brandt, more than aware of his broken legs. Her hands were busy, tracing the contours of his chest and flat belly. She wanted to reach between his thighs and release his sex to her hungry gaze. Somehow she found the strength to pull away, her breasts rising and falling heavily as she struggled to control her breathing.

  She was on fire and she needed him to extinguish it. “Can we, Brandt?”

  Eyes wide, Brandt stared at the woman pressed to his side, seeing passion and indecision in her eyes. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Yes, we can, darling.” His blood-engorged penis was so hard it hurt. “I’ll spread my legs and you lie between them.”

  Ciara shook her head. “No. I’ll hurt you.”

  He gritted his teeth in frustration, not wanting a repeat of what had occurred when she’d gyrated on his lap. “Then sit on me. Please, baby, I want you so much.”

  Ciara felt hot tears prick the backs of her eyelids. Victor had never wanted her. He’d always needed her. “You’re going to have to protect me.” Whenever she slept with a man she’d insisted he use protection. She wasn’t ready to become a mother, and she was aware of the risks of contracting STDs.

  Brandt closed his eyes, praying he wouldn’t come before he was able to penetrate Ciara. It wasn’t as much about having sex with her as making love to her. “There should be some condoms in the bathroom. They’re in the drawer with the shaving supplies.”

  A sigh of relief slipped past his lips when she left the bed to get the condoms. The tension that had been building between them for days made him feel as if thousands of tiny insects were feasting on his nerve endings. He’d found himself looking for every opportunity to touch Ciara, to kiss her good-night or for the obligatory thank you.

  When she’d sat on the bed with him to watch a movie the night before, he knew they’d crossed the threshold where they could sleep together without making love. His disappointment was profound when he woke not to find her beside him. His first reaction was to go to her, but pride had stopped him. What if she didn’t want him in her bed? What if she wanted to be the one to make the overture? The questions had assailed him until Brandt realized he wasn’t going back to sleep and got out of bed.

  Opening the drawer, Ciara found the box of condoms. It hadn’t been opened. Taking off her glasses, she left them on the vanity. She closed her eyes, then opened them, staring at the mirror. “What are you doing, Ciara Dennison?” she asked her reflection. “Do you really intend to sleep with a man you’ve known such a short time? Are you crazy as hell or just plain old horny?”

  “Who are you talking to, Ciara?” Brandt called out from the bedroom.

  She opened her eyes. “Myself.”

  “Why are you talking to yourself, babe?”

  A wry smile twisted her mouth. “Maybe I’m crazy.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’m already talking about it. I’m talking to myself.”

  “Either you come here or I’m coming in there to get you.”

  “Don’t move, Brandt. I’m coming.” Ciara broke the seal on the box and took out a condom. She walked back into the bedroom, tossing the condom at Brandt, who caught it in midair.

  He patted the bed. “Come here, baby. Let’s talk about what has you so crazy.”

  She got into bed, but instead of lying next to Brandt, Ciara sat on folded knees at the foot. “Don’t you think it’s odd that we’re going to make love when a few weeks ago we didn’t know each other? Well…maybe you didn’t know me.”

  Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Brandt angled his head. “A week, a month, a year,” he drawled. “It’s only time.”

  Sandwiching her hands between her knees, Ciara saw something in Brandt’s eyes that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he were looking at her for the first time. “Are you saying time means nothing to you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Miss Ciara Dennison. When it comes to you it doesn’t matter whether I’ve known you one week, one second or one lifetime.”

  Time no longer mattered to Brandt. Not when he’d lain in a hospital for two weeks, not knowing what city he was in, the day, hour or who’d come to see him. Time had ceased being important because he didn’t know how long it would take for him to heal completely. It could take a year—or longer. He went to sleep. He woke up. And in between that time there was Ciara Dennison. She’d become the one by whom he measured his existence.

  Ciara was asking questions and he had some of his own. What, he mused, was it about the woman living under his roof, sitting at the foot of his bed that tugged at him in a way no other woman had? He’d never been one to lose his head or heart over a woman, but she was different—she was the total package, something Dr. Victor Seabrook had also recognized. Unfortunately for the doctor with the overblown ego, he’d failed in his attempt to brainwash and control her.

  Her indifference to his celebrity-athlete status, or that he was a member of a prestigious New York family, had set Ciara apart from the other women who’d passed in and out of his life. Some he’d dated had beautiful faces with bodies to match, but offered nothing else, because being seen with him was all that mattered. He had tween cousins who had more sophistication than most of them. Yet he’d still played the game—on and off the gridiron—and he’d played it very well.

  What he’d found puzzling was that he had resigned himself that his world hadn’t stopped because he hadn’t joined his teammates for preseason games. He’d turned off his cell phone because he hadn’t wanted to talk to any of them, and he hadn’t watched a televised game because he did not want to be reminded that instead of tossing a football he was sitting in a wheelchair.

  “We’re both consenting adults, so I don’t understand why you’re intellectualizing this, Ciara.”

  She gave him a long, penetrating look. “I just want to make certain we’re both on the same page.”

  “What do you want?”

  Ciara ignored the cold edge in his tone. “When it’s over I don’t want to hav
e to deal with a lot of drama.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you looking for?”

  “Why, sex of course,” she said glibly. “Isn’t that what men want when they meet a woman?”

  Brandt went completely still. He didn’t want to believe what he’d just heard. She was treating him as if he were a piece of meat. “You don’t want a declaration of love, or expect a happily ever after?”

  Ciara wanted to tell Brandt she did, but not with him. She’d dated a man in the spotlight and she didn’t want a repeat of what she’d had with Victor. “No. The sex will suffice.”

  She knew she sounded cold, detached. It had to be that way or no way. Ciara knew she couldn’t afford to fall under the sensual spell of the blond giant, who despite his physical limitations was a constant reminder of who she was and what she’d been missing. It’d been more than two years since she’d slept with a man, and the weeks following her separation from Victor had been the most difficult. After a while the urges weren’t as strong and then they’d stopped altogether. But now they were back—and stronger than ever. And all because of a man she never would’ve considered dating if they’d met at a sporting or social event.

  Although she’d known Brandt a short time, they had become a couple. They were living together, sharing meals and deliberating what movies to watch. They had even entertained as an unofficial couple. They’d made love without having sexual intercourse, but it was the intercourse both wanted.

  Brandt stared at Ciara. She wanted sex while he wanted more than that. Even with two broken legs, he had the option of masturbating to relieve his sexual tension, but he wasn’t about to revert to his fourteen-year-old self, for whom it’d become a daily ritual.

  He extended his arms. “You’ve got yourself a deal: no love, drama or happily ever after.”

  Ciara moved toward him, her hands going to the waistband of his boxers and deftly pulling them off his hips and down his legs. Her hair had fallen around her face, preventing him from seeing her expression when his penis quickly became engorged. Using his teeth, he tore open the condom wrapper and rolled the latex sheath down over his erection.