Call Me Wild

by Robin Kaye

  “Sure.” She took the phone from him and caught the sheet that was slipping off her breasts, watching him leave. “Fisher.”

  He looked over his shoulder.

  “Thanks for the coffee and everything.”

  “I’ll wait for you to finish before I start breakfast, so take your time. Talk as long as you want.”

  She nodded as Fisher closed the bedroom door behind him. Of course, he was really nice and generous, and well, wonderful. Almost perfect, except for the whole dating thing, and couple thing, and always showing up wherever she was thing—although that had come in handy yesterday. Last night had been perfect too—at least the sex part had. In fact, she awoke wondering if it was just another one of her romance novel–induced, multi-orgasmic dreams. Although in the past dreams, she’d always woken up hot and bothered, well before the big pay off, which made her realize that sex with Fisher had been no dream. Well, that and the slight twinge of sore muscles that hadn’t been used in way too long. Last night was certainly one for the record books. She could claim most orgasms with one person, most orgasms in one day, and most orgasms in one year. Yeah, Andrew was right. She definitely needed to get out more.

  Jessie took a deep breath and dialed.

  “Andrew Monahan.”

  “Are you alone?” She turned on the water in the party-sized tub to drown out the conversation and be able to soak at the same time.

  “Hello to you too. What’s the matter? Why are you in Chicago? And why is water running?”

  “I’m not in Chicago, and I’m filling the bathtub.” She sat on the edge of the tub.

  “It’s a Chicago area code.”

  “I borrowed a friend’s satellite phone. We’re outside of Stanley, and I can’t get cell coverage anywhere. Not even on the top of a mountain, I might add.”

  “You have a friend?”

  “You’re surprised I have a friend, but you’re not surprised that I climbed to the top of a mountain to get cell coverage? What’s wrong with this picture?” Jessie stepped into the tub, easing into the hot water while it continued to fill. “And need I remind you that you’re my best friend in the world?”

  “Sugar, I love you. You know that, but I’m your only friend, and that makes me your best friend. What can I say? The rest of the world is shortsighted.”

  “I have friends.”

  “You have acquaintances. Friends are people who will drop everything on a moment’s notice and take the red-eye to see you throw out the first pitch in a minor league season opener.”

  “I totally smoked it.”

  “You did, but how many of your other so-called friends even crossed the Hudson to see it?”

  “Yeah, you do have a point there. None, but I have two now.” She leaned back, stretched out her legs, and rested her neck on the edge of the tub.

  “Well, good for you. Didn’t I tell you that people in Boise are friendlier?”

  “Yeah, see that’s the thing. I kinda need your help. You know the guy I met?”

  “The stalker?”

  Jessie rubbed her eyes and wondered why she told Andrew everything when he used it against her later, just like he was doing now. “His name is Fisher Kincaid, and I was wrong. He’s not a stalker. We just have the same circadian rhythm, and he likes me.”

  “He likes you? Sugar, wake up and smell the Old Spice. He wants to get into your pants.”

  “How do you know? What am I? Unlikable or something?”

  “Look at yourself.” God she hated it when Andrew used his I’ll-speak-slowly-because-you’re-too-stupid-to-live voice. He picked it up when he minored in pop psychology, and she’d been waiting for him to lose it ever since. “You’re gorgeous. What’s not to like? You’re sexy as hell in an I-don’t-give-a-fuck way that dares a man to step up to the plate. But you’ve built so many walls. You’re more impenetrable than a super-max prison.”

  “I don’t have walls.”

  “Sugar, your walls have been firmly in place since your junior year in high school.”

  “You swore you’d never repeat what I told you.”

  “No, I swore I’d never repeat it to anyone else. Repeating it to you is fair game. What that jock did to you was unforgivable, sugar. Taking your virginity on a dare was horrible, but it’s time to get over it all ready.” She had broken his nose when she found out and years later turned him down when he hadn’t recognized her and tried to pick her up at her class reunion. She thought she had persuaded Andrew that she had moved on.

  Jessie tried to erase the picture of the asshole-of-the-moment in her mind. “I’m so over Jamie Babcock. I was over him the second I broke his nose. I moved on years ago.”

  “Jessie, you like men. You may even have sex with them on occasion, but you only see them as the competition. You might be over Jamie Babcock, but you’ve never recovered. You’ve never trusted another man.”

  “I trust you. The last I checked, you’re a man.”

  “You trust me and only me because I’m nothing like every other man in your world. I’m a writer, not a jock. I could give two shits about sports. Hell, in your eyes, I’m a girlfriend with a Y chromosome. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve yet to see a man willing to fight the good fight and win. Sugar, I’ve seen you scare off more men than Mike Tyson with an iron deficiency.”

  Jessie chose to ignore the Mike Tyson crack, and the fact he dragged up an experience she’d rather not think about because she needed Andrew’s help, and fighting with him wouldn’t get her an answer any sooner. “Win what?”

  “Your heart.”

  “I have a heart. I just don’t believe in the happily-ever-after, fairy tale society has brainwashed women with since the beginning of time.”

  “That’s old news and your convenient excuse to avoid getting hurt by men like Jamie Babcock. So, sugar, what’s the problem?”

  “It’s Fisher. We’re dating… sort of, and well, he’s different.”

  “What does ‘dating… sort of’ mean exactly?”

  “Since I rarely date—”

  “Rarely?”

  “You know, Andrew, this would go a whole lot faster if I didn’t have to deal with comments from the peanut gallery. Do you want to help me or not?”

  “Okay, calm down. I’m ready and willing to help you if I can.”

  “Good. Fisher knows about me writing a romance and my dating history.”

  “You told him about Jamie Babcock?”

  “Hell no. Jamie is not the issue, never was, never will be. I told Fisher I don’t date much, so he’s offered to show me how a man romances a woman for research purposes.”

  “Well, that’s one I’ve not heard before. Do you think he’d mind if I used that line?”

  “Probably not. And guess what? It works.”

  “Really? Go on.”

  “Last night I was working on the book, while he made dinner. Before he put the steaks on, he asked if I was at a good stopping point, or if he should wait. And that was before we made our romance, dating deal.”

  “What did you do, shake on it?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” God, she felt herself blush. Talking about sex, even over the phone with her best friend, had her face heating.

  “You had sex with him?”

  She reached over and turned off the water, wishing she could dunk her head. “Well, yeah. You would have too if you were me, and he was cooking for you. He’s amazing. He even made peach cobbler from scratch and homemade ranch dressing.”

  “I’m not seeing the problem here. Does he suck in bed?”

  “Um… no. Just the opposite, he’s perfect. Well, except he insists he rescued me when he didn’t.”

  “And what would make him think he rescued you?”

  She tapped her fingers on the surface of the water, watching the ripples. “Because my car broke down, and he found me climbing a mountain to see if I could get a signal to call for help.”

  “Sounds like a rescue to me.”

  “Of course you
’d take his side, you’re a man.” She scooted down into the water to stay warm.

  “Guilty. But back to the reason you’re calling me at an ungodly early hour on a Saturday morning when you obviously like this man who cooks, is good in bed, and isn’t a stalker or a rescuer. What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know. One minute I want to rip his clothes off, and the next I want to run as far and as fast as I can and hide. Maybe I’m PMSing. I’m not acting like myself. My eyes leaked.”

  “Your eyes did what?”

  “Andrew, I swear, if you repeat one word I’m about to tell you, I’ll write a tell-all book about you and send it to your aunt, the nun.”

  “Sister John Paul? You’d do that to her?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “Fine, I swear. Now tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it and then get some sleep.”

  “After, well, you know.”

  “No, sugar, I don’t know.”

  “What we did.”

  “Cook, eat, have sex?”

  “Yeah, that last one.”

  “Okay, I’m following you. What happened after you had sex with Fisher, the rescuer?”

  “Oh God, please don’t make fun of me.” She sat, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arm around them, before resting her face on her knees. “I really don’t think I could handle it, and honestly Andrew, you’re all I have.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop teasing, and I promise not to make fun of you. Now tell me what happened.”

  “Afterward, I started crying for no reason. I just bawled like a total whack job. And it wasn’t as if I had anything to cry about. But I couldn’t stop.” She didn’t hear anything, not even his breathing. She pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the call hadn’t failed. “Andrew, say something.”

  “I’m speechless.”

  “That’s a first.”

  “Yeah, just like you crying. Maybe you’re right, maybe it is just PMS. You know, you are a woman; you have hormones, maybe they just took over.”

  “They never have before.”

  “Unless you can’t get your hands on chocolate, but then, if I remember correctly, you’re more violent than weepy.”

  “I’m never weepy. I haven’t cried in years, not even when I lost my job. Do you really think it was a hormonal malfunction and had nothing to do with Fisher?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Andrew, your job is to make me feel better. You’re dropping the ball in the best friend department.”

  “Sorry sugar, but I can’t make a definitive diagnosis. Maybe it’s PMS, maybe it’s great sex, coupled with PMS, or maybe you’re falling for this guy.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Fine, but even you have to admit you have emotions. You feel love, hate, anger, jealousy, do you not?”

  “I’m feeling angry right now.”

  “See, I’m right. You might not believe in romantic love, but you love me, you love your parents and mine. So, let’s just take all emotion out of the equation. What’s left?”

  “Hormones.”

  “So, if it’s true what you say, and you have absolutely no feelings for this guy you did the nasty with, then by process of elimination, your crying jag must have been due to a hormonal imbalance unlike any you’ve ever known. What else could it be?”

  “Good. I feel much better now. I knew you would help me put things in perspective.”

  “Yeah, it figures you would. I think you’re wrong, and I’m just telling you now for two reasons. First, you’re too far away to slug me, and second, if I’m proven right, I can spend the rest of our lives saying, ‘I told you so.’”

  “You’re right about the first and way off base on the second.”

  “Actually, if I were there, I’d be in the bathroom with you, and I have a feeling you’d have to stand in line behind Fisher when it came to a slugfest. Still, you’re a hell of a lot closer than you were in New York. Maybe I’ll fly out for a visit, so I can check out the guy you’re dating for research purposes.”

  “Anytime. Just let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll introduce you to my new friend Karma. You’d like her.”

  “Are you okay now? Can I go back to sleep?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I hope. “Thanks. And you know… I really do love you.”

  “I know, sugar. I love you too. You have fun with Fisher, and call me when you get back to civilization.”

  Jessie severed the connection and set the phone on the vanity before soaking her head. She lay in the tub with her head tipped back, eyes closed, mouth and nose out of the water just enough to breathe, while she ran her hands through her thick hair, wetting it so it wafted around her head like jellyfish tentacles undulating with the movement of the water. She floated for a few minutes, letting the warmth soothe sore muscles, frayed nerves, and drown out all noise inside and outside of her head.

  With her eyes closed against the bright sunlight shining through the big skylight above the tub, she lay still, calm, boneless, wishing she could stay there avoiding all the uncomfortable things in life—her job loss, her current occupation… Fisher. She didn’t know how to handle him at all. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was waiting for her. She came out of the water, reached blindly for the shampoo, and hit human flesh that wasn’t her own. Jessie wiped the water out of her eyes and crossed her arms over her breasts.

  “I knocked.” Fisher kneeled beside the tub, wearing nothing but a smile and his unbuttoned Wranglers. She could tell by the lack of elastic that he wasn’t wearing a damn thing beneath them. “You didn’t answer.”

  “I didn’t hear you. Obviously.” Fisher’s eyes raked over her, and she was surprised the water around her wasn’t boiling with the heat of his gaze. If her own hands weren’t full, she’d be fanning her scorched face.

  “Isn’t it a little late for modesty?” His voice deepened and kicked her inner thermostat into high gear. He rested his arms against the tub and leaned toward her. His hair was wet from a recent shower and was just beginning to curl as it dried. “I kissed and licked almost every square inch of you last night and wouldn’t mind doing it again. Did you and your girlfriend have a good talk?”

  “Who?” Her brain was stuck on the kissing and licking part. It kept repeating like a scratched record on her parents’ antique Victrola. Only this wasn’t annoying, it was a turn on.

  “Your best friend? The one you called.”

  “Oh right. Yeah. It was fine.” God, she felt like a fool sitting in the bathtub holding her boobs and crossing her legs. She had no idea how to get out of the situation without either coming off like a bitch or a sex-starved maniac. “Did you need something?”

  “I brought you towels and was hoping I could talk you into letting me wash your hair, scrub your back, and help you with the other hard-to-reach places.”

  “You want to wash my hair?”

  “Ever since that day in the hot tub.” He grabbed the bottle of her shampoo and took a sniff. “So this is what makes your hair smell so great.” He shot her a grin that had his dimple winking at her and motioned for her to stretch out. “You’d better wet your hair again.”

  It was easier to close her eyes against both the embarrassment and temptation—her constant companions when Fisher was anywhere near. She slid under the water, telling herself he was right. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before. She dunked under, ran her hands through her hair, and then sat quickly, spinning around with her back to him.

  Cool shampoo plopped on the top of her head, and she expected the worst. Most guys she knew wouldn’t think of shampooing a woman’s hair, but then, maybe there were other sides to them she never saw.

  Fisher’s fingers dug through her thick hair, and he worked up a lather, massaging her scalp before drawing the shampoo through its length. He piled most of it on top of her head and then massaged her neck, moving to the base of her skull and up the back of her head. In less than a minute, he had her moanin
g.

  His soapy hands moved to her shoulders and down her back. “Are you always this tight?”

  She was unable to speak. A sigh escaped her lips.

  He gently pushed her head toward her chest and ran his thumbs from the nape of her neck down either side of her spine.

  “God, you’re good at that.”

  He chuckled as he pressed her shoulders forward and massaged under the edge of her shoulder blades. “Glad you approve.”

  It was as if he knew every muscle, every pressure point, every sensitive spot on her head and back, and just how to touch it. One of Fisher’s shampoos was better than every other massage she’d ever had, except maybe that one he did on her ass and leg. If she erased the memory of the pain she’d been in, she was pretty sure it would rank right up there next to his shampooing ability. She’d never noticed the tension in her neck and back until his magic fingers relieved it.

  “I’ll let you finish up while I start breakfast.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “You’re leaving? Now?”

  “Darlin’, you’re gonna get pruney if you stay in there much longer, and if I stay, we’re never going to eat breakfast.” He stood, the bulge in his jeans evident before he bent over, and gave her a peck on the lips. “You have ten minutes.” He took another look at her, groaned, and left the bathroom.

  Good thing the water was cooling. Still, she had a feeling she could be in a walk-in freezer with Fisher and still get hot.

  Chapter 10

  Jessie dressed in a pair of sweatpants, rolling the waist to her hips, and a long-sleeved T-shirt, since she wasn’t sure what they were going to do today. It would probably be smarter for her to talk Fisher into leaving, even though everything in her wanted to stay with him. She reminded herself that he wasn’t her type—okay, physically he was, in bed he was, but the rest… She strode into the kitchen and found him in front of the stove.

  “Great timing. The eggs are almost done.”

  He’d put on a shirt, and she tried to hide her disappointment. He piled steak, eggs, and hash browns on two plates and handed her a fresh cup of coffee.

  “It looks wonderful. Thanks. This beats a PowerBar any day.”