Date With Dr. Frankenstein

by Leanne Banks

  Swallowing, he took the glass from her weaving hand. “Can you take off your blouse?” he asked, wanting to see her bare.

  “Yes,” she murmured low and husky. Her gaze trained on him, she pushed it down her arms. As if she could read his mind, though, she didn’t stop there. She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then undulated out of her shorts and underwear. Her nipples were like raspberries on cream, her skin ivory satin in the moonlight. She rubbed her thighs together delicately, betraying her own arousal.

  She was the sweetest, sexiest invitation he’d ever received.

  Eli sucked in a quick breath and took another drink of wine. Unable to tear his gaze from her, he set the glass on the nightstand, then grabbed his stash of protection from the drawer and tossed the packets beside the wineglass. In one swift movement, he shucked his jeans and briefs.

  Joining her on the bed, he ran his hand over the delicate bones of her rib cage. “I told you before that the world stopped for me when I went into the lab, but right now I’m feeling every single one of those twenty-three days without you, Andie.”

  He slid his hand up to her breast, and she arched prettily into his palm. “Twenty-three days is a lot to make up for,” he told her, closing his eyes briefly when her bare thigh rubbed against his hardened masculinity. “For you and me.”

  She sighed and wrapped her fingers around his biceps, as if the muscle fascinated her. Her eyebrows furrowed together. “The next time you’re in the lab for a marathon session of gene mapping, do you think you could call me every now and then?”

  Eli swallowed a mouthful of regret. He didn’t like it that he’d hurt her. “I thought about calling several times, but it was usually two o’clock in the morning.” Although she was as open to him as she could be, he sensed his neglect still affected her. “I’m sorry.”

  Her gaze not quite meeting his, she took a deep breath and skimmed her hand down his arm. “I wondered if you forgot about me,” she confessed.

  His heart tightened in his chest. How could she possibly think that, he wondered, when she was in him, as deep as his blood? “I swear I didn’t,” he told her, cupping her chin so that she met his gaze. “Not then. Not ever.”

  She bit her lip and the uncertainty still hung between them, straining their closeness.

  “I need you to believe me.”

  He felt her eyes search his. When her lips tilted in a tentative smile, it was like the stars flickering on a cloudy night. “Then I guess I’ll have to.”

  The notion that she could have even a trace of a lingering doubt made him crazy. He couldn’t allow it between them. He would have to convince her, because his need for her wasn’t a temporary thing. Unable to fathom a time when he wouldn’t desire her, he wanted to bind her to him in every physical, emotional and legal way. She would flip if he told her right now, though.

  Right now, he would have to push the doubt away.

  Looking at her from head to toe, he ran his finger down her rib cage, past her waist and hips, to her thigh.

  She shivered.

  He smiled and reached for the forgotten wineglass on the nightstand. Sweet, little Andie didn’t have a clue what he had planned for her. “Do you trust me?”

  Her eyes dark but earnest, she whispered, “Yes.”

  He lifted the glass, took a quick sip, then deliberately spilled the wine on her chest. It ran like a shiny, bubbly river between her breasts and down her sides, pooling in her belly button and dampening the wispy tuft of hair at her thighs.

  Andie gasped. “Eli!”

  He shoved the glass back on the nightstand. “Cold?”

  “Ye-e-es.” She stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

  “It won’t last. I promise,” he murmured, then lowered his mouth to her, sipping the wine from her skin. He skimmed his tongue between her breasts and across her erect nipples.

  Eli heard her muted whimper. “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

  He laughed against her stomach. “Oh, honey, I’m just getting started. And I’m gonna make your toes curl.” He slipped his tongue into her belly button and felt her stiffen beneath him.

  “They’re curled,” she practically moaned.

  Lowering his head to her damp femininity, he felt her hand in his hair.

  “Oh, no!” she gasped. “Absolutely not. Absolutely, positively—”

  He glanced up and met her aroused but uncertain gaze. “Are you still cold?”

  She hesitated, then swallowed. “No.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  She hesitated again. “Yes, but...”

  “Hold on.”

  He nuzzled her femininity and she closed her eyes. Moving slow and easy, he kissed her intimately. Andie started to swear in whispers. It was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

  Wrapping his hand around her thighs, he lost himself in the taste and texture of her, pushing her beyond her self-consciousness to acceptance of her arousal, acceptance of her incredible sensuality. Her whispers turned to erotic moans that might as well have been a physical caress. Her body grew tense as a bow. He grew hard with sexual need, yet more desperate to convince, to shatter doubt, to make her his.

  He felt her begin to shake and knew she was close. He flicked his tongue against her tender bead once, twice. She jerked and came undone.

  “Eli,” she cried, nearly sobbing.

  Hearing the panic in her voice, he swiftly covered her body with his to still her shudders. He covered her mouth to capture her cry. She wrapped her arms around him and held on so tightly he thought his heart would break. “Go again?” he murmured, lowering his hand between them.

  She reached for his hand and shook her head. “Not again.” Her eyes were dazed and her voice trembled. “Not without you.”

  “But it would be so easy,” he coaxed, wanting to feel her come apart again.

  “Then come with me,” she whispered and gave him a French kiss that took him around the world. Her inhibitions must have burned to cinders; she kissed him and skimmed her hands down his stomach, to his aching masculinity.

  Eli groaned and reluctantly pulled his mouth away. “Just a—”

  She tilted her hips and took him between her thighs.

  “Holy—” He felt his forehead dampen with perspiration. Her sweet, hot femininity was so close. Just a shift of his hips and he’d be inside. Swearing, he stretched out his hand and groped for a packet. “When did you get so damn hard to resist?”

  She undulated against him, bringing him that much closer. He pulled on the protection. Then, with a rough growl, he thrust inside her. They moaned together. Holding his gaze, she moved in deliberately provocative feminine counterpoint to his thrusts. Feeling his muscles tense, he stared at her, wondering what he had loosed inside her. No more restrained, tentative Andie. She was taking and giving.

  Lowering her hands between them, she cupped her hands around him and stroked as he pumped. His arousal spiked. He gritted his teeth. “What are you doing?”

  She closed her eyes as if she was having trouble concentrating. “Sharing,” she whispered, and he lost it.

  Fast and furious, he exploded. Through the haze of his climax, he felt her little shudder and knew she was with him.

  When he began to breathe again, he rolled off her and entwined his fingers through hers. Trembling with aftershocks, Andie curled into his side. Her uneven breath puffed against his chest. “Eli,” she said in a strained voice.

  He looked into her bottomless eyes and felt his heart take a double dip. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t think I can do this every night.”

  Eli chuckled and hugged her to him. “I’m not sure I can, either, but I’d damn well like to try.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Andie spent the next week in bliss. Her co-workers noticed the change and remarked on it. Every time Andie came around wearing a huge grin on her face, Samantha rolled her eyes and started playing an imaginary violin. Although Eli’s ability to close down communication for m
ore than three weeks still haunted her at secret moments, Andie felt herself instinctively turn to him on a regular basis. It was so natural it might have scared her if she’d had time to think about it.

  Everything would have been perfect if she hadn’t caught a miserable case of summer flu. “I’ll be fine,” she told Eli when he telephoned. Stretched out on her sofa like an overcooked noddle, she turned her head to sneeze away from the receiver. “Excuse me,” she murmured and wiped her nose with a tissue.

  “You sound horrible,” he said.

  Andie gave a wry smile. “Thank you. I look even worse.”

  “Have you seen the doctor?” he asked, ignoring her self-deprecating humor.

  “No need to. This is one of those things that just has to run its course. I’m sure it’s viral.” She sniffed. “I should be better in a few days.” She prayed she would be. The only thing worse than a summer cold was a summer flu. At the moment, Andie was sure the only thing worse than a summer flu was heart surgery.

  “Do you have a fever?”

  Andie hesitated. The concern in his voice warmed her, but she didn’t want him to worry. “It’s no big deal. Just a little above normal.”

  “What are you eating?”

  She grimaced. “Not much. I’m not very hungry.”

  “I’ll ask Mrs. G. to make some chicken soup,” he said firmly. “Tell me your symptoms and I’ll pick up a couple of over-the-counter medications for you at the drug store. While we’re at it, what are your favorite soft drinks and juices? I can—”

  Andie shook her head from side to side, which only served to make it hurt more. She winced. “This is really unnecessary. I’ll just sleep through it and—”

  “I insist,” he said, quietly but oh so firmly.

  Andie sighed.

  “Symptoms,” he prompted.

  She answered him as if he were a medical doctor supervising her case. “Headache, fever, upper respiratory congestion, scratchy throat, general yuckiness.”

  “Poor baby.”

  She rolled her eyes and coughed. “You asked.”

  “Beverages.”

  She shrugged. “The regular, cola and ginger ale.” He was being so serious she wondered if he was writing all this down. A wicked thought crossed her mind. “And I find I’m partial to Chablis.” She grinned at the long silence that followed.

  “You are a bad girl, Andie,” he said in a rough-and-ready voice.

  “Not me,” she immediately said, but a forbidden thrill raced through her. She’d never been called a bad girl in her life. She wondered if she should thank him.

  “Yes, you are. You brought up an incredibly pleasurable, intimate memory when I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

  “Oops,” she said, trying, but not succeeding, to inject a note of regret in her voice. “In that case, just forget I mentioned it.”

  “Do you know what the statistical probability of that is?”

  “A little low, huh?”

  “Nil.” She heard him take a long-suffering breath. “Just remember sweetheart, payback’s hell.”

  * * *

  Fletch followed his dad around the kitchen. “What’s wrong with Andie?”

  Eli shrugged and poured soup from the big pot on the stove into a little container on the counter. “It sounds like she has a bad cold. Nothing major, probably viral.”

  Fletch felt a little bit worried. “What’s viral?”

  “Oh, a virus. Like the flu.” Dad patted him on the head. “That means it’s not bacterial like an ear infection.”

  Alarmed, Fletch bounced his fingers together. “A virus. Is she gonna have to go to the hospital?”

  “Oh, no. She’ll be better in a few days.”

  Fletch frowned. A virus. “But how do you know she’ll get better so fast?”

  Dad glanced down at him. “Because that’s what usually happens when people get a cold. They feel bad for a while, then they get better.” He pointed to the soup and grocery bag. “I’m taking her soup and drinks to help her feel better.”

  Fletch thought about that for a minute. He wasn’t sure he understood about viruses. His mom had died because she’d caught a virus. His stomach hurt when he thought about it because she’d caught it from him. He’d caught his virus at day care. But he hadn’t caught one at summer camp a few weeks ago. Andie had told him colds were viruses. He scratched his head. “Can you catch her virus?”

  Dad paused. “I guess I could. I don’t get sick very often, so I probably won’t.” He bent down. “But you know Andie’s done some nice things for us, and we both like her, don’t we?”

  Fletch nodded. He liked Andie a whole lot.

  “She lives alone so we need to help take care of her when she’s sick. She would help take care of us, wouldn’t she?”

  Fletch nodded again. His throat felt like peanut butter was stuck in it. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “You can if you want to.”

  Scared, Fletch held his breath. “Do I have to?”

  Dad tilted his head to one side and squeezed Fletch’s shoulder. He wasn’t frowning, but he wasn’t smiling either. “You don’t have to. Do you want me to tell her something for you?”

  Fletch let out his breath in relief and shook his head. “Nah. I think I’ll just go play with Brownie.”

  His dad looked at him some more, then nodded and stood. “Okay. Don’t go outside without Mrs. G. She’s in the den, and I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Bouncing his fingers together, Fletch watched his dad leave. His chest felt heavy and his stomach hurt like it did when he disobeyed. He wondered if he was bad because he wasn’t going to help take care of Andie. He was just too afraid.

  * * *

  Eli stood over Andie as she sipped the soup. He’d tried to talk her into going to bed, but she’d resisted the idea, so he brought her a pillow and blanket and set up a tray beside her. Her nose was pink and she looked so miserable that he wanted to hold her, but she said she was a germ factory and wouldn’t let him touch her. “Want me to adjust your thermostat?”

  She shrugged. “Just leave it, please. I’m cold right now, but in a few minutes I’ll be kicking off the covers.”

  “You should stay at my house for the next few days so Mrs. G. and I can look after you,” he told her.

  Andie gave him a long-suffering glance and shook her head. “If I stayed at your house, I’d probably share this with Fletch and Mrs. G. It’s not as if it’s a serious illness.”

  Irritation tugged at him. “Are you always this difficult when you’re sick?”

  “Not difficult, just practical,” she corrected and sneezed into her tissue. She looked up at him with a soft gaze. “The soup is delicious. Please tell Mrs. Giordano how much I appreciate it. Did I tell you you’re wonderful to bring it?”

  Slightly mollified, he shook his head and sat in one of the wing chairs. “No,” he grumbled. “I think Fletch is worried about you. He asked if you would have to go to the hospital.”

  Her face shadowed with concern. “You told him I wouldn’t.”

  “Yes.” Eli had several concerns on his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’ve told you I want you for me, Andie. But Fletch is very attached to you, growing more attached every day. There will come a time when we have to make plans.”

  She paused midstroke with her spoon. “Plans?”

  “Long-term,” he clarified.

  He saw her throat work in a swallow. Her gaze flitted away, and he fought a spurt of impatience. More and more with each passing day, he found he wanted their relationship chiseled in stone. There was no need for him to wonder anymore. She was the woman for him. He knew she loved him. His only problem was that she wasn’t moving at the same speed he was.

  She set the spoon aside. “Not now. It’s too soon.”

  “But you understand why I have to consider Fletch. He’s been through a lot.”

  She nodded, meeting his gaze. “I don’t think I would care about you as
much if you didn’t think about Fletch’s welfare. Please trust that I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he isn’t hurt by what does or doesn’t happen between you and me.”

  She still regarded their future with an if. His impatience spiked, but he tamped it down with an attempt at levity. “If I were a French king and you were my courtesan, I could order you to marry me.”

  She relaxed her tense posture and her lips tilted into a grin. “You weren’t a French king, though. Remember? You were a Viking explorer.”

  Standing, he crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at her. He was generally a reasonable man, practical, logical. He believed in gender equality. Any other belief was nonsense. So why did Andie make him feel like a loaded cannon of testosterone? “If I were a Viking explorer and I wanted you for my bride, what do you think I would do?”

  She sneezed again. “I envision something like you grunting, throwing me over your shoulder and carting me off. It’s a relief to know men don’t behave that way in this modern age.”

  Eli yearned for the good ol’ days.

  If he continued in this vein it wasn’t going to help his case, he realized with a sigh. Turning to the matter of her medication, he pulled the assorted remedies the pharmacist had recommended from the bag at the other end of the couch.

  “Take this for fever,” he instructed, putting two pills on her tray. “You probably want to sleep,” he said, adding another pill, “so we’ll save the nondrowsy formula for tomorrow. The lady at the cash register recommended this brand of tissues so your nose won’t get chapped.” He handed her the box, then took the cellophane off the box of wild-cherry throat lozenges. “In case you get a sore throat,” he added and looked up to find her smiling at him. She didn’t say anything, she just smiled. Waiting expectantly, he grew uncomfortable with the silence. “What?”

  “You’re making me adore you.”

  Eli’s heart swelled in his chest. He grinned wryly. “What is it? The throat lozenges? The antihistamine? Tell me what it is so I can do it again.”