by Leanne Davis
“It’s not like I’m in leather and a thong,” she said with a look. Obviously, she was reminding him of the eyeful she got of Tamira in this very house. He smirked at her reference. She continued, “It’s a t-shirt. So what? Besides, you were gone. How was I supposed to know who was down here?”
“I guess you weren’t. Silly me just assumed you’d probably get dressed before coming down.”
“It’s not even seven o’clock. I was lounging.”
“Lounging? Here?”
“Well, yeah. I thought…”
His gaze narrowed in on her and she fidgeted under his scrutiny. “What? What did you think?”
She sighed, setting her coffee down as she slid the bar stool back. He had that snarky, rude, insolent tone again. She walked around the kitchen island to where he stood, leaning against the counter, with his legs spread. She stopped before him, and parked her bare feet next to his sneakers, looking up at his dark, unreadable, still cold eyes. “I thought… I’d like to see you this morning. That’s all. I thought I heard you, and all I could think about was that I wanted to see you. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing sinister. Nothing slutty.”
She reached her arms up around his neck, standing on her tiptoes, her body brushing against the front of his. He jerked his neck back, but she felt his heart rate increasing and his breath hitched. No matter how much he pretended, he couldn’t conceal his physical reactions to her. He finally let go of the counter, and settled his hands on her.
Then he swore. “God, Erica, you don’t have anything on under here.”
“I told you…”
“I know. I know you were just looking for me. Running nearly naked around Rob.”
“I don’t think he noticed.”
“I’m sure he noticed. What do you think he meant when he said how nice it was to see you this morning?”
She bit her lip to keep the smile at bay. He was really bothered by this. “He meant he couldn’t believe I was here. Apparently, someone doesn’t do sleepovers.”
He stiffened at her tone and she shrugged and added, “He’s very nice. Rob, that is. I’m surprised by how different he is than I previously thought.”
“Want me to arrange a date?”
She looked up at his face. “Don’t be obtuse with me. I was merely commenting that the man who one time hurt my best friend, seems to have changed a lot. I was only saying I see why you care so much about Rob now.”
“Rob changed when he was using. Now he’s back to being himself.”
“And you? Are you back to being yourself? Spike and all that? That was you using, too, wasn’t it?”
His lips smirked. “Testing me? Making sure I’m not going to show up looking like that again?”
“Of course, I don’t want you to look like that again. Sue me. I like you like this.”
“I won’t be Spike again. But you know what? You’re probably not going to like me all that much better now, than you did as Spike.”
“Don’t start this again. I mean it. Try. Try not to treat me like I’m in your way. Like I’m a body to you. I’m not. I’m more. And you know it.”
He was quiet; then finally, he said, “I know.”
She nodded, and smiled. “Good. Now I’m going to take a shower. I’ve got to be in by eight.”
“Here? You’re showering here?”
She already loosened her arms, and turned to walk out of the kitchen, but stopped at the tone of his voice. “Well, yeah. Is that a problem? Where did you think I’d shower?”
“At home.”
“I have a bag in my car. Never know when I’m going to be at the hospital all night. I always keep clothes, as well as my cosmetics packed.”
“Handy for one-night-stands, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “Yeah, it is. If that’s what this was. But it wasn’t. It’s more. Anyway, could you grab the bag from my trunk?”
He set his coffee down, and nodded as he grabbed her keys and headed past her without another word, another comment, or another glance. She sighed. This was going to be like cracking open a rock with a pencil. The thing was, she wanted to. And badly.
****
Erica was in his bathroom, humming. Apparently, she hummed while she got herself beautiful. She showered, blew her hair dry, and now, through the partially opened door, he could see her applying makeup. No woman had ever gotten ready in his bathroom before. Ever. He watched, feeling slightly fascinated. She was so open and at ease with this. She came out of the bathroom with only a towel on, picked through her bag for what she wanted, while chatting to him about her patients that day. Chatting. To. Him. No one chatted to him. He wasn’t a listener. He wasn’t someone people wanted to tell things too. Or even BS with. But Erica seemed to think so. She seemed to like being here, with him.
He got dressed and showered early, long before she was even awake. And now he’d already thrown on his jeans and shirt for work. Not like he had to be all pretty and professional like Dr. Erica. So he sat in the chair in his room. Listening. Watching. Confused why he stayed sitting there, listening and watching. She was so pretty to watch though. The way she brushed through her hair, and how her long arms worked to twist it around a comb. Lifting her white blouse over her chest… The breasts, oh God! Her beautiful breasts that she seemed to think were what? Too big? Too full? They were just that: big and full, looking so sumptuous in the blouse she wore. His eyes were fastened on her, watching her shirt move, and wanting to do nothing more then fill his hands with their warm softness.
Her glasses always on, she seemed to have mastered the trick of applying eye shadow while still wearing them. It was fascinating. After using lotion, and spraying stuff in her hair, she finished it all by clipping on jewelry: earrings, and necklaces.
He felt almost paralyzed with her there. In his house. In the morning. Waiting for him when he got back. Her smile so easy, so bright, and for him. Why was she so easy now and bright with him? He wasn’t particularly open or bright with her. He wasn’t even particularly nice. He never had been. He was closed. Cold. Intense. Accused of being emotionless. Callous. Uncaring. Usually, whoever said that was absolutely right. But not now. Not with Erica. With her, he didn’t know how to act. He didn’t know what to do with her there. Not in the bright light of day. Not the morning after. Only it wasn’t like a morning after with her. She was too comfortable with him.
Why did she, out of nowhere, just get up and throw her arms around him? Kiss him? Smile at him? What did she want from him? For them?
She came out of his bathroom finally, clicking the light off behind her. He looked her up and down. Wearing gray slacks, with a white blouse with a chunky, dark blue necklace, matching earrings, and her hair twisted up behind her ears, she looked ravishing. Her clothes rustled softly as she moved. Professional. Feminine. Soft. Stylish. Rich. Classy. She looked like Erica Heathersby. Everything Spencer wasn’t. Everything Spencer knew nothing about. What the hell was she doing there? With him? And why wasn’t she more upset with herself for being here? With him?
She stopped when she noticed him staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, covering his confusion with a cold look. “What? Are we carpooling together?”
“Yes. Aren’t we?”
“I think I should quit.”
“Why? Because of last night? You don’t have to quit.”
“How is this going to work? I don’t usually take orders from women I’m…” he trailed off. Women he was banging, screwing, fucking, that was how usually talked. But now he couldn’t. He couldn’t talk to Erica like that.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting. He swallowed.
“Women you’re…”
“Involved with.”
She smiled happily. “Nick and Joelle did it. Still do.”
“Joelle’s not Nick’s handyman.”
“I didn’t mean that, Spencer. I was over-the-top pissed off at you. Which you did deserve. You’re not my handyman.”
“I am just t
hat. Job’s not exactly going anywhere. So…”
“So?”
So? She didn’t get that he might have a shred of pride? He hated she was ten years more educated than he. As many years more successful. He was her handyman. Yeah, why have any pride? Or want to feel like a man?
“Spencer, this is new. Not like we had a lot of notice. You can change that. But maybe not right now. Today.”
He sighed. Standing up. Being an unemployed loser was worse than a loser with a low-paying job, he supposed. Still. God, how long before Erica returned to her grownup life? Her grownup men with their own prestigious careers that rivaled her own? Men who could stand tall next to her?
What the hell could he do for Erica Heathersby? Give her a good time? As far as he saw, that’s all he had to offer. If she needed a good time, that he could give her. A good lay. A place to unwind. To not be professional. Or important. To be different. That’s about all he had to offer her.
They were starting for the door of the bedroom when she grabbed his hand, stopping him. “Are you still sleeping with Tamira? I don’t think I can go into work facing that. The rest I can deal with. That you did, or you were. I can deal with the awkwardness of us working together, but a third wheel to her? That I can’t.”
He looked down at her green eyes, so big and gold-rimmed, they seemed to glow. God, she was beautiful. What was she doing there in this grubby, old house with him? “I’m not sleeping with her.”
“Or anyone else?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t date any of them, Erica.” Which was true. He didn’t often sleep with the same woman twice. So it wasn’t like he was ever really seeing anyone. Dating. Or boyfriend of.
“Okay, good.”
He followed her this time. What did it mean? That he was dating Erica? That he was what? Being faithful to one person? Could he? Did he want to? He didn’t know. He never thought beyond the fantasy of sleeping with her. He never dreamed he’d get that far. Twice. And now, following her to work.
Chapter Sixteen
“So what do you want done first, Doc?”
Spencer was standing in Erica’s office and his tone became insolent. Apparently, he wasn’t happy to be there, and his attitude was worse than usual. He resumed his impertinent “Doc” tone. The one that had her so convinced he didn’t like her. She leaned back in her chair as she regarded him. She supposed that in this situation, with her having most of the power, by filling the “boss” role, it probably conflicted with Spencer’s macho role as a man. Perhaps it made him feel like less than a man. Was she responsible for that though? She’d run across it before; and was well aware that her success, strong sense of self, and predetermined goals, not to mention all of her accomplishments, intimidated most men.
Marge, Nadine, Sherri and Tamira, were all seated in Erica’s office for a quick meeting. Spencer interrupted them and all four women’s eyes darted around as they looked between themselves. Even though Erica felt sure no one knew of the most recent developments in their relationship, they were outright staring at him.
Erica wondered what to do. Should she treat him like usual? Or fire him? Or get up and kiss him, thereby putting it all out there? Somehow, she realized that her handling of this situation was some kind of test with Spencer. Perhaps he wondered if she would admit to being with him to the outside world? He seemed pretty convinced that she wouldn’t want to be observed dating him.
She tapped her pen on her desk, and waited a few heart beats, as her eyes locked onto Spencer’s. His dark eyes were nearly glaring at her. Erica licked her lips before finally standing up, and straightening her white lab jacket as she walked around her desk. All eyes in the room followed her.
“So I gathered all of you here today because I thought the staff deserved to know: Spencer and I have begun dating; so from now on, he’ll be reporting to you, Sherri, for work. Seems a lot easier this way, and less awkward.”
Startled eyes, and side glances, along with much shuffling followed. Spencer stood stock-still, his eyes now fastened on her face. She smiled a half smile, thinking that he never believed she’d do it. He also didn’t believe she was actually serious about him, when she truly was; and she suddenly knew it was deathly serious.
Tamira gasped and got up, dropping the clipboard she held. She had a horrified expression as she looked from Erica to Spencer before letting out a cry and running from the room. Erica didn’t feel any sense of satisfaction, but actually, felt bad. Tamira was so young; and so troubled. She saw the unfulfilled potential in Spencer just as Erica did. How could Erica blame the girl for being mad about what Erica wanted too? She was just lucky Spencer desired her in a way he was incapable of finding with anyone else.
Erica cleared her throat. “So. That’s that. There’s nothing wrong with it. No secrets. Anyway…”
Spencer’s jaw finally worked. He didn’t smile; however, he looked very different to her when he said, “You could have warned me.”
“You seemed so ready to judge me, you kind of deserved it.”
“We’re dating?”
“That’s what it’s called, yes. Don’t worry; it won’t kill you. Now sorry to be… well, me, but I have to get back to things here. Can we talk about it later?”
He looked at her long and hard, before turning and leaving her office. She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Walking around her desk, she sat down while trying to ignore the eye-popping stares and whispers. Everyone nearly salivated with curiosity, anxious to find out more. Erica said nothing, but simply started reviewing the billing statements for the last week’s patients. She knew this morsel of gossip would spread like wildfire through her office, and hopefully, through the rest of her life.
The funny part was: she didn’t care. She was excited about dating Spencer with no idea what to expect, or what he’d do next. Hell, she couldn’t even predict what he’d say to her. She hadn’t looked forward to something or someone in years, way too many years to count. She thought of her work as something she had to endure before she could do what she really wanted to indulge in. She never felt like that about any man. Never.
****
Spencer was power-washing the bottom floor of the building, the first item on the list from Sherri. He had no doubt the tasks came straight from Erica, but somehow, it was a less bitter pill to swallow when it came from Sherri. Sherri was someone who Spencer didn’t care about or think about. He didn’t mind what Sherrie thought of him each time he stepped into her office. He didn’t care that Sherri thought of him only as the handyman, and ignored him thusly.
However, he cared a lot when Erica did all those things.
And now, Erica blabbed to everyone that she was dating him. Him. Spencer Mattox. God! What did that mean? How could she do that? Why did she do that? In essence, she virtually claimed him as hers.
Spencer turned at hearing the loud voice behind him. Tamira stood there, wearing a short skirt and a tight, black top. Her hair framed her pretty face, but now, her face looked crestfallen. He released the handle on the power-washer, and let it die down, turning off the engine, while lifting off the earphones he wore.
“You and the doc? Is that true?”
He let out a deep sigh. Here it comes. “Yeah.”
“I see. I guess I understand. I mean, you couldn’t know about what I didn’t tell you. Really, you couldn’t know. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
Tamira was oddly rocking on her heels, and clutching at her middle, as if trying to soothe herself. She kept chanting to herself that it would be okay. Shit. What he was supposed to say to that?
“Look, Tamira, I thought we both agreed we were just having fun, you and I.”
“What does she have that I don’t? What, Spencer?”
Everything, he thought, but didn’t say it. Erica symbolized everything he lacked. Everything Tamira lacked. “It’s not like that. It’s just…”
What? What was it about Erica? He wanted to see Erica again after having sex with her;
when, with every other girl, he rolled away and instantly forgot their faces, and their voices became mute to his ears. He didn’t care about any of them, and didn’t want them near him after the act. But Erica? Erica rolled around with him. Held him. Talked to him. Insisted that he look at her. But the strangest part to Spencer was how he wanted her to coax him to do those things.
Still, here was Tamira, standing before him, rocking strangely back and forth, muttering to herself. Big tears filled her eyes, cresting over her eyelids.
He didn’t owe Tamira anything. Not even an apology, but she looked so pathetic to him, he offered it anyway. “I’m sorry. I thought you understood how things were. I’m sorry if you didn’t. I should…”
Tamira’s rocking stopped and her eyes pierced his. “I’m pregnant, Spencer.”
Spencer stopped. He just stopped everything: moving, thinking, breathing, even his heart seemed to stop.
“Yes. I’m pregnant. And it’s your baby, Spencer. I’ve not slept with anyone but you in over a year. So it has to be yours. And we’re going to share the responsibility together. It’s okay. About Erica. You didn’t know the good news yet. You couldn’t have known about it yet. But now you do and things will be okay from now on.”
Spencer threw the handle of the power-washer away from his body and tossed his gloves down onto the cement.
“You can’t be pregnant. We were careful. Very careful.”
Tamira shrugged, smiling happily. “Who knows what happened? Maybe someone up there,” she said, pointing to the sky, “knew we should be together and made sure we would. You know, be together.”
She came closer, looking up at him with her dark eyes, so clear and trusting. Almost a kind of innocent, puppy dog adoration toward him. What the hell? What was this?
“You’re lying. You’re just mad about what Erica said. You’ve got to be lying.”
“No. No. I’m not lying. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you. Here. Here, feel it.” She took his hand and put it on her stomach, although he tried to jerk it back, but she pressed it onto her abdomen. Before pushing her away forcibly, he felt that her waist seemed slightly thicker than before, from what he could remember when he saw her naked.