“Can you feel that?” he asked, pressing on her middle toe.
The woman shook her head. “Not really. Some pressure is all.”
She had nerve damage.
“You’re diabetic, aren’t you Mrs. Wilson?”
The woman glanced at her grandson, then at Jessica, then nodded to Ben.
“And are you controlling it?” Ben asked.
The woman looked down at her foot. “I forget to check my blood,” she admitted. “And supplies are expensive.”
“There are lots of ways to get help with the money,” Ben told her, though he suspected she knew that. “But you have to remember to check your blood sugars. Diabetes is a serious condition.”
The woman nodded.
“Have you ever had an actual diabetes education class?” Ben asked her as he lifted her foot to inspect the bottom.
“No.”
“I’m going to set you up to attend the class at St. Anthony’s. It’s free,” he added.
“How will I get there?”
Ben held back a sigh. “The bus stops right across the street from the hospital, Mrs. Wilson. You’ll need to attend five nights, but it’s only once a week.”
“It’s at night?” the woman asked. “I don’t like going out at night.”
Ben didn’t hold this sigh back. “There’s a class that meets before lunch as well.”
He watched her try to find another excuse. “Mrs. Wilson,” Ben interrupted as she opened her mouth. “You have to be in charge of your diabetes. I can’t help you if you’re not going to help yourself.”
His voice was firm and he could see the older woman’s eyes widen. She was probably regretting getting dressed up for a jerk like him.
“Ben,” Jessica said.
He didn’t look at her. She was probably disappointed that he’d talk to a patient like that. She had no idea that this was minor.
Man he was sick of trying to help people in spite of themselves. Why should he? If she didn’t care about her foot, why should he? She’d let it get this bad. Obviously, she wasn’t overly concerned.
“I’ll help her get to the classes, Doc.”
Ben looked up at the woman’s grandson. “If she’s going during the day, you’ll be in school.”
“Isn’t this more important?”
Ben stood up quickly and frowned down at the boy. “Nothing is more important for you than school.”
“But her foot…”
“There are other options.” Ben turned and looked at the boy’s grandmother. “Aren’t there, Mrs. Wilson?”
The woman bit her bottom lip, but nodded.
“Okay.” Ben was satisfied. The woman also needed treatment to her foot, however. “Jessica, could you get Mrs. Wilson the phone number for the wound clinic at the hospital?” he asked.
After the door had shut behind Jessica, Ben dug into his back pocket, extracting his wallet. He pulled a fifty-dollar bill out.
“I’d like to have you see an WOC nurse,” Ben said, referring to the nurses specializing in wound care. There were no open areas on Mrs. Wilson’s legs yet, but a consultation would be good for her. If she would see a friend of his, he’d have Valerie scare the woman with what could happen if she didn’t take better care of herself.
“This is for bus fare,” he explained, handing the money to the older woman. “I want you to go to those classes, but I understand things get in the way sometimes.”
He watched as Mrs. Wilson hesitantly took the money, her eyes wide. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“There are only two things you have to do to thank me.”
She looked up at him expectantly.
“Go to the classes,” he said simply. “I will check to be sure you do.”
She nodded.
“And don’t tell Miss Bradford that I gave you the money.”
He would do what he could for this woman. Hell, he would have easily blown the fifty bucks eating and drinking at a bar and grill with his buddies. Giving the money to this woman to improve her health was better for him too. But he didn’t want Jessica to know. She’d blow it out of proportion, assume it meant he was coming around and would be heading back to his scalpel and scrubs any minute. No sense in getting her hopes up.
The door opened and Jessica came in. And, for a moment, Ben felt like he’d already had those beers he was going to blow his money on. He felt light and happy and, if he wasn’t mistaken, like doing some karaoke. Something mushy like Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe”, maybe.
He knew he was probably smiling like a twelve-year-old with a crush, but she made him feel good. And made him want to make her feel good. Her hair looked freshly brushed and he wondered how often she freshened up in a day. She was obviously the type to take pride in her appearance. Even with blood all over the front of her in the middle of a trauma, she looked collected. He liked that about her. Jessica wasn’t someone he’d have to worry about or take care of. She could certainly take care of herself.
But damn if he didn’t have the very strong urge to mess up her hair.
Chapter Five
“Thank you for talking to Sophie and seeing Mrs. Wilson,” Jess said sincerely as Ben joined her at the center’s front doors after washing up.
Ben ignored her appreciative comment.
“You’re still voting for dancing rather than going to my place for a night of mind-blowing sex?”
It was so tempting.
She sighed as he took her hand and they stepped out into the night. She wasn’t a gambler by nature. Anymore. She liked things as orderly and predictable as they could get. Not everything in life could be planned, but that only made it more important to plan the things she could control. And who she gave her body, heart and life to was certainly one of those things.
“I think I’m in the mood for dancing,” she said.
“That’s only because you’ve gone dancing before and you know what it’s like. If you knew what sex was like you’d vote that way.”
She wanted to tell him the truth about her sexual history, just to see the stunned look on his face, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t know how he’d react, and she didn’t feel like giving him up yet.
“Still, I think it’s dancing.”
They stopped by his truck and he unlocked her side. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he told her as he opened her door for her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
He pressed close and she stopped breathing for a moment.
“Yeah, because I’ll get to be up against you longer this way. I have a feeling the first time we make love it won’t last too long.”
Jess took that as a compliment. Ben was nothing if not controlled.
She took a shaky breath. “Well, that’s…good.”
Of course, being up against Ben for any period of time, clothes between them and vertical, or not and horizontal, might be the death of her.
“Should I change clothes before we go?” she asked, looking down at what she wore. It was appropriate for the arcade and the center, but not for a club…or a fancy restaurant? She looked at him. Maybe this would be a romantic date, with a candlelight dinner after dancing and—
“Nah, you look fine,” Ben said.
Oh.
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a club called Black and Blue.
“Should I be worried?” Jess asked as they walked toward the front.
Ben moved in close to her. “I’ll protect you.” His arm slipped around her waist and his hand settled on her hip.
Okay. She didn’t need candlelit dinners.
The club’s entrance was on the street level, but she saw a long flight of stairs leading down into the darkness.
The sound and vibration from the music grew steadily as they descended, Jess in front of Ben, but holding hands.
She reached the huge wooden door at the bottom of the steps and pulled. The noise and heat hit her all at once. Ben nudged her from behind when she paused in the doorway, and she moved forward w
ith him pressing in close.
Light was not a part of what bombarded her senses. The club was dark, the carpets, walls, tabletops, everything in a blue and black checkered pattern.
Jessica took a deep breath and felt herself smile. The heat soaked into her, the music seemed to reach into her, and the thump of the bass felt like it was coming from within her bones. The energy in the room, the passion, the adrenaline, seeped into her bloodstream, making her veins feel like they were carrying carbonated soda.
It had been a long time, but her gut hadn’t forgotten.
It was clubs like this where she’d gone to let loose, to untangle everything from her thoughts and feelings to the actual muscles that carried the tension of trying to live up to her dad’s high standards.
She hadn’t even realized she’d missed it.
Her eyes adjusted as they moved into the interior of the club and she found the dance floor.
The first thing to come to mind was the movie Dirty Dancing and the thought Oh, yeah, baby. Couples covered the floor, but in most cases she would have been hard pressed to say where one person ended and the other began. There wasn’t a millimeter of space between them. “Do you want a drink?” Ben asked near her ear.
She shook her head slowly as she watched a beautiful Latino woman in a deep red dress that barely covered her breasts dip back over the arm of her partner. The man blatantly ran his palm up over her rib cage and over one breast.
Jessica’s skin heated, remembering Ben’s hands on her earlier, then heated further realizing that they would be again soon.
“Jess?” Ben asked.
She turned and faced him. “Yeah?” Her gaze zeroed in on his mouth and she craved those lips on her skin. Any skin. Or all of it.
She moved closer.
He let her, but asked again, “Do you want a drink?” His voice was husky now.
She shook her head. “Let’s dance.”
He didn’t argue. In fact, they were barely on the dance floor before he twirled her and pulled her up against him. His hands settled at the base of her spine, holding her against him.
As if she’d even think of moving.
Ben moved against her, pressing hips to hips, belly to belly. And she rethought that whole not-moving idea quickly.
The music was a Latin beat, the bass deep, throbbing through her body. The heat in the club was pure sexual energy and it was clear that foreplay was the reason everyone came here. There wasn’t even much drinking going on. Or talking. Any verbal exchange between partners was in the form of whispers, lips to ears. Most exchanges, however, were in good old-fashioned body language.
“You know why I brought you here, don’t you?” Ben asked against her ear.
His breath on her skin created goosebumps down her neck and arm.
“I have a pretty good idea.”
He chuckled. “Not that, believe it or not.”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “No?” She wasn’t sure if she should be surprised, or relieved, or disappointed.
His eyes darkened. “Oh, Jess, I want to make love to you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”
She forgot to breathe for a moment.
“But I could pursue that any number of ways. I brought you here because I was sure you’d never been here before.”
“Hmm,” she said vaguely, resting her temple against his chin.
“And I think it’s going to be fun showing you some things you’ve never done before.”
Her heart sped up in response to the tone of his voice even more than because of the words. “Oh?”
“There’s something about you that makes me want to get you wrinkled and confused,” he said low in her ear, his breath tickling her neck again.
“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t like confusion.”
His laugh was more of a low rumble. “You’re an ER nurse. Isn’t what you do all about confusion?”
She nodded, her cheek brushing against his shoulder. She felt mellow, in spite of the way Ben made her blood sing. “I’m there to help restore order, to some degree.”
“Ah.” He turned her to avoid another, more energetic couple dancing near them.
Though what they were doing was hardly dancing. It was more swaying. Slowly.
“Like what you do at the center, right?” he asked.
“Right.” What was the point in lying or downplaying it, really? The sooner Ben understood what made her tick—and vice versa—the sooner they could get on to deciding if they could be together or not.
“Where’s that come from?” he asked.
“Life,” she said simply, then sighed as he trailed an index finger down the length of her throat. “When Dad died I had two choices: take control or let the chaos win.”
She knew some people admired what she’d done. But she didn’t consider it all that amazing. She’d had to do it. She certainly couldn’t have let her brother and sister go to foster care.
“No interest in confusion…at all?” Ben asked, his finger running back and forth across her collarbone bringing her effectively out of her reminiscing.
She sighed again. “Can you better define confusion?”
She probably should be asking him if he’d decided to go back to the hospital, or if he’d thought about private practice. But instead she wanted to know how he was going to induce confusion in her life. Great.
“I could show you,” Ben said.
She was coherent enough to know that that was a dangerous idea. “Start by telling me.”
He turned her again, but she quickly realized it was to get her back against the closest wall. He leaned in, his forearm resting on the wall, even with her forehead. His index finger traced down the length of her throat, then kept going down her sternum to where her top buttoned between her breasts. He ran his finger back and forth across the top edge of her shirt as he talked.
“When I say confusion, I’m talking about turning a few things upside down for you, making you try a few new things, maybe making you feel some things you haven’t felt before.”
Already there, Jess thought.
Ben leaned in slowly until his lips were right against her neck and she felt him inhale deeply. “I can’t get over how great you smell.”
She met his gaze
“It’s vanilla.”
“Vanilla,” Ben repeated slowly. “My favorite flavor.”
Flavors brought to mind tasting and tongues and Jess felt a delicious shiver dance over her.
Hell, she’d wear Tabasco sauce if it got that look from him.
“Do you have it back here?” he asked, the tip of his finger brushing the sensitive skin behind her ear lobe.
She nodded. He bent his head and she felt the touch of this tongue in the same spot.
She was pretty sure he heard her moan.
“Tastes even better than it smells,” he said. He watched her, his eyes heavy. “Where else?”
She licked her lips, which he watched intently, then lifted her right wrist. He caught the wrist and lifted it, her palm up. He breathed deeply, then she watched, heartbeat thundering, as his tongue flicked over the pulse point. The sensation zinged straight to her stomach, then instantly dropped lower to another spot that throbbed.
“Where else?” he asked gruffly.
She was afraid her hand was shaking as she lifted a finger and indicated the base of her throat where she was sure he would see her heart pounding.
He dipped his head and his lips touched the spot gently. She let her head fall back and, the permission given, he increased the pressure of his lips, then sucked slightly, before lifting his head to look at her.
The urge to take her clothes off for him was nearly overwhelming.
“Anywhere else?”
She nodded, unable to speak once she saw the heat in his eyes. She pointed to the valley between her breasts.
“I am a very happy man,” he declared, with a crooked grin. Then he bent his knees and tasted her again.
He had his hands o
n her hips—thank goodness—because he helped to keep her upright.
But it was nearly a lost cause after that.
Ben rose slowly, but he didn’t ask her permission this time.
His lips claimed hers in a lusty, hot, wet kiss that wouldn’t have been complete without his hands all over her, especially cupping and teasing her breasts and at her hips, bringing her more fully against the part of him that clearly wanted her as much as she wanted him.
They could make love right here in this dark corner of this club and it was doubtful any of the other patrons would notice—or care. More skin was showing and being touched on that dance floor than they would need to expose to get the job done.
Ben’s hand cupped her buttock and one finger slid between her legs and over the sensitive skin aching for him. Even with the material of her pants between them, Jess felt a sob of pleasure catch in her throat. He was so good at this. As she’d known he would be. Ben would make sex glorious.
And that was the thought that yanked her back to earth like an anchor dropped into a puddle.
Just as she’d built Ben up as the perfect guy, she’d created an amazing fantasy around having sex with him. It had to be perfect. Which was unfair to him. And scary for her. Because at the same time her imagination was creating fantasies, her conscience was reminding her that perfection was unattainable.
But geez, when she was letting the fantasy build, she had never believed she would actually have sex with him.
She pushed against him, pulling their mouths apart first. He looked down at her, questions in his eyes. His breathing was heavy and he didn’t seem inclined to move his hands anytime soon.
“What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t how I want to do this,” she said unsteadily.
“Tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” he said, moving a finger and making her moan.
“No,” she gasped. “I don’t want to do it here, like this.”
Ben studied her with a frown. “But if I let you go right now, you’ll decide not to do it at all, anywhere.”
“Not tonight,” she agreed.
“I could change your mind.” His lips came close and his finger moved again.
“I know,” she sighed, giving in to the sensations that she knew no other man would ever produce in her.
Just Right: The Bradfords, Book 1 Page 11