Tamara stepped inside the empty condo, her eyes widening as she took inventory of a gleaming expanse of hardwood floors, a dramatic twelve-foot ceiling bordered by crown molding, and windows on a facing wall that commanded a breathtaking view of the Potomac River.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, turning slowly in a circle. “This place is amazing.”
“Yeah,” Victor agreed, sweeping an appreciative glance around. “It’s even nicer than—”
“Oh, look at that!” Tamara squealed, racing across the room to admire a soaring limestone fireplace. She ran her hands over the mantel with a sigh of longing. “Man, I wish my apartment had a fireplace.”
Victor snorted. “I wish this was my apartment.”
“Whose is it?”
“You know Dr. Ambrose?”
Tamara ran through a mental Rolodex of doctors she’d encountered at the hospital, wrinkling her nose when the name registered. “Plastic surgeon? Drives the flashy red Ferrari? Walking poster child for narcissistic personality disorder?”
Victor laughed. “Damn, woman! You’re brutal.”
Tamara grinned impishly. “I call ’em like I see ’em. So this is Ambrose’s crib?”
“Yeah. He just accepted a new position in Los Angeles—”
“Ah, yes. The Mecca for plastic surgeons.”
“Right.” Victor’s mouth twitched at the not-so-subtle dig. “Anyway, as you can see, he’s already vacated the premises. He wanted to sell his condo before he leaves, but he knows he won’t get fair market value in this lousy economy. So he’s decided to rent out the place instead. Yesterday he asked me if I was interested.”
Tamara snorted, glancing around. “Who wouldn’t be interested?”
Victor smiled. “I’m glad to hear you say that, because that’s actually why I brought you here this morning.”
Tamara eyed him warily as he sauntered toward her. “What are you talking about?”
“I want you to move in with me.”
She gaped at him, convinced she’d heard wrong. “Excuse me?”
“Your ears aren’t deceiving you. I want us to move in together.”
“What? You can’t be serious!”
He stopped in front of her, holding her stunned gaze. “I assure you that I’m very serious. Move in with me, Tamara.”
She swallowed, her pulse thudding at the husky, intoxicating timbre of his voice. She took a step back, then another, needing as much distance between them as possible. “We can’t move in together, Victor,” she told him.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because it’s too soon! Yesterday we slept together, today we’re moving in together. What’s tomorrow? Getting engaged?”
A slow, lazy smile curved his mouth. “Are you proposing, cariño?”
Her heart lurched. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Are you sure? Because I might be amenable to—”
She choked out a laugh. “I’m not proposing to you, Victor.” But a strange wave of longing had swept through her at the thought of being his wife. Sharing a bed with him, sharing a home. Sharing his life.
Briskly she cleared her throat. “Look, the bottom line is, we can’t move in together. Especially not here.”
“Why not here?”
“Are you serious?” she demanded, gesturing expansively around the room. “Look at this place, Victor! It’s a waterfront condo! Even splitting the rent, we couldn’t possibly afford to live here. Ambrose must be paying at least three grand a month. So God only knows what he’d charge us.”
“Fifteen.”
Tamara’s jaw dropped. “Did you say fifteen? As in fifteen hundred?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? That’s very generous of him.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s in it for him?”
Victor shrugged a broad shoulder. “He’s looking out for a fellow Stanford alum, and he likes the peace of mind that comes with renting out his condo to someone he knows and trusts.”
“Uh-huh.” Tamara was skeptical. “What else?”
Victor grinned, playfully tweaking her nose. “Such a suspicious mind.”
“Damn straight. So what’s the story? Why’s Ambrose giving you such a discount on the rent?”
“He sort of owes me a favor.”
Tamara eyed him speculatively. “What kind of favor?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh, I see.” She grinned knowingly. “You either covered for him with a patient—or a woman.”
Victor rubbed his jaw, humor glinting in his eyes. “Let’s just say he was very grateful for my, ah, assistance. The point is, the condo’s mine if I want it. And I do. But only if you’ll share it with me, Tamara. So what do you say?”
“I don’t know, Victor.” She was undeniably tempted to accept his offer. The condo was absolutely gorgeous, and the idea of living with him appealed to her more than she could have ever imagined. But she didn’t know if she was ready to take that next step in their relationship. She hadn’t even had time to adjust to them becoming lovers, although waking up in his arms that morning had felt as natural to her as breathing.
“If it’s a roommate you want,” she hedged, “I’m sure you’d have no problem finding—”
“I don’t want a roommate.” His voice deepened. “I want you.”
Her belly quivered, and her pulse went haywire. “I—I don’t know,” she said again, scraping her hand through her hair as she began pacing the glossy floor. “I’d have to break my lease, and I wasn’t planning to move anytime soon. My apartment suits my needs just fine—”
“You said you were overpaying for it,” Victor reminded her. “If you moved in here with me, you’d probably end up saving money, because we would split the rent sixty-forty.”
She shot him a surprised look. “You’d be willing to pay sixty percent?”
“Of course. And when we get our next salary increase, I’ll pay even more.”
Tamara stared at him, then shook her head quickly. “I couldn’t let you do that, Victor. You have more expenses than I do. You help support your family and—”
He held up his hand. “Let me worry about that. Just give me your answer.”
She wavered, gnawing her lower lip. “How many bedrooms are there?”
“Two.” His mouth quirked. “We could use the second for a study.”
Tamara laughed. “Nice try, papi, but I’d want my own room.”
He followed her into the gourmet kitchen, watching as she admired the custom cherry cabinets, granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.
“Do you like to cook?” he asked her.
“Not as much as I used to,” she admitted. “Who has the time or energy to cook when you’re working eighteen-hour days? That said, this kitchen would definitely inspire me.”
Victor grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
“Don’t get any ideas about turning me into your domestic slave,” she warned with a playful poke to his ribs, which made him laugh.
They explored the rest of the apartment, both impressed by the large bedrooms with great views, oversize closets, and the two bathrooms filled with travertine marble and quartz fixtures. Victor explained the amenities, which included a rooftop garden deck, fitness club and concierge service.
As they wandered back into the living room, Tamara sighed deeply. “I gotta hand it to Dr. Ambrose. He’s got excellent taste.”
“Of course,” Victor drawled. “Would you expect anything less from a Ferrari-flaunting narcissist?”
They both laughed.
Walking over to the sun-drenched wall of windows, they gazed out at a sailboat drifting lazily across the Potomac River. Wrapping his arms around Tamara’s waist, Victor leaned down and murmured into her ear, “Just imagine waking up to this view every day.”
Tamara shivered, the hot silk of his voice caressing her skin and heating her blood. If they hadn’t had to go to work, she would have gladly made love to him right then and ther
e, on the floor of a virtual stranger’s empty apartment.
“This is all very tempting,” she admitted softly. “But I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“I know.” Victor nuzzled her earlobe. “Just think about it. Okay?”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
But she knew she’d already made up her mind.
Later that evening, Victor was resting in the on call room when he heard the door open and close quietly, followed by the soft click of the lock being turned.
Even before he opened his eyes and saw Tamara coming toward the bed, he knew it was her. His body had grown so attuned to her, he would have sensed her even if he were blindfolded and standing in the middle of a crowded arena.
He sat up halfway as she reached the bunk bed. “Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey, yourself,” she whispered back, climbing onto the bed and straddling his thighs. He grew instantly hard, his erection tenting the front of his scrubs.
Tamara laughed, a soft, naughty laugh that stole through the shadows like a fragrant curl of smoke. “I swore I’d never do this,” she confessed, her breath fanning his face as her lips brushed his forehead.
Victor smiled dreamily. “Do what?”
“Hook up at work. It’s so Grey’s Anatomy-ish.”
Victor chuckled as the tip of her tongue traced his lips before parting them. He shivered as she sensually licked the inside of his mouth while reaching down to cup the heavy ridge of his erection. He groaned thickly, closing his eyes.
She untied the drawstring of his scrub bottoms and reached inside his dark briefs. His breath hissed out as her fingers closed around his hard, throbbing shaft. She began caressing him slowly and provocatively, her hand sliding up and down his length until he thought he’d go insane. When she lowered her head and took him deep into her mouth, he snatched the pillow behind his head and pressed it over his face to muffle an agonized groan.
She licked over and around the sensitive head of his penis as her hand massaged his engorged sac. His heart pounded as his hips moved up and down, thrusting into the hot suction of her mouth. She knew just how to pleasure him using her lips, tongue and the inside of her cheeks to send jolts of ecstasy tearing through his body.
Knowing he was on the verge of exploding, he tossed aside the pillow and pulled out of her mouth. Her eyes danced with wicked laughter as he gripped her shoulders and flipped her onto her back. He made quick work of untying the drawstring of her scrubs and sliding them down her legs, followed quickly by her silk panties. The scent of her arousal went straight to his head, a powerful aphrodisiac. He pressed his palm against her hot mound and slid one finger inside her wetness. She arched upward on a low, sultry moan.
He removed his finger from her body and brushed her nectar over her lips, then leaned down and kissed her, unbearably aroused by the taste of her. Their tongues tangled and mated, an erotic glide of wet and heat.
Breaking the kiss, Victor reached down and scooped his wallet off the floor. After fumbling out a condom, he rolled the latex over his erection and settled between Tamara’s warm thighs. When he stroked the head of his penis along her moist cleft, they both trembled with desire. She spread her legs wider, their gazes locking as he grabbed her hips and drove into her with one deep, powerful thrust. As she cried out softly, he shuddered at the feel of her hot, silky sheath enveloping him like a glove—one made just for him.
They quickly found their rhythm, the bed squeaking quietly beneath their thrusting bodies. They both knew the risk they were taking, knew there’d be hell to pay if they got caught. But Victor didn’t care. He couldn’t have stopped making love to Tamara if his life depended on it.
They kissed with their eyes open as they rocked together, driving each other closer and closer to the edge. When Victor reached between their joined bodies and fingered Tamara’s swollen clit, she gasped into his mouth. He felt her body clench for a suspended moment. Seconds later, she began spasming and contracting around his shaft. As she climaxed, her head went back and her lips parted just as Victor reclaimed her mouth, swallowing her rapturous cry.
He sucked her tongue as he worked her quivering insides, pumping harder and faster until his body exploded in an orgasm that had him shuddering and bucking violently against her.
For long moments afterward they clung to each other, her face pressed against his neck as their lungs heaved for air. Outside the room, they heard voices passing by the door.
“Do you think anyone heard us?” Tamara whispered breathlessly.
Victor grinned, kissing her damp nose. “Too late to do anything about it now.”
Her eyes glittered with amused mischief. “Look what you’ve got me doing, sneaking off to have quickies when I’m supposed to be working.”
His grin widened. “I always knew there was a bad girl hiding in there somewhere, just waiting to break loose.”
Tamara chuckled. “Well, I’m locking her back up now, so say goodbye.”
Victor kissed her softly, then winked. “Adiós, Naughty Tamara. Till we meet again.”
As they sat up and began getting dressed, Victor said very casually, “I want you to meet my parents.”
Tamara stared at him, her eyes widening with surprise. “Your…parents?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow,” she murmured, shaking her head at him. “First the apartment…now this. You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Not when I know what I want.” Victor didn’t care how he sounded. He was crazy about her and, premature or not, he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. Which was why he’d asked her to move in with him that morning. Seeing her every day at the hospital wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more of her. He had to have more.
But Tamara was skittish, he reminded himself. So he had to tread with caution.
“Your mother’s been to the hospital to visit you plenty of times, so I’ve met her before.” He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Seems only right that you meet my parents.”
Tamara was silent, her expression thoughtful as she redid her ponytail.
“There’s a new French restaurant I’ve been hearing great things about,” he continued in the same casual tone. “I can make reservations for Saturday since we’re both off that evening. And I want you to bring your mother. My treat.”
He found himself holding his breath, awaiting Tamara’s response. She was no fool. She understood the magnitude of what he was asking of her, just as she’d understood that living under the same roof would make them more than roommates.
After what seemed an eternity, she whispered, “Okay.”
Victor stared at her, heart thudding. “To which one?”
Looking him in the eye, she smiled. “Both.”
Chapter 12
Tamara uncrossed and recrossed her legs, anxiously tapping her stiletto-clad foot in the air. Her stomach was a vicious tangle of nerves, leaving her slightly nauseous at the thought of consuming a meal. Which would be expected of her, considering that she was dining at a five-star restaurant.
Watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye, Vonda St. John murmured, “Lord have mercy. I haven’t seen you this nervous and fidgety since the first day of kindergarten.”
Tamara shot her mother a wry look. “I’m sure it’s been more recent than that.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No? I’m pretty sure I was a nervous wreck while I awaited my results from the MCAT, then waited to find out whether I’d gotten accepted into Dartmouth.”
Her mother pursed her lips, striking a thoughtful pose. After another moment she shook her head. “Nope. Not even then.” At Tamara’s skeptical look, she elaborated, “You were nervous, sure, but you knew you’d aced the exam. And I never doubted that you’d get into Dartmouth, or any other medical school you applied to.”
Tamara gave her a small, knowing smile. “You never doubt me.”
“Which is why I know Mr. and Mrs. Aguilar are going to love you. How
could they not?”
Tamara could think of one glaringly obvious reason, but she refrained from saying so. When she began gnawing her lower lip, Vonda clucked her tongue in exasperation.
“Stop doing that before you ruin your lipstick.”
Tamara instantly released her lip, then covered her face with her hands and groaned softly. “What was I thinking, Ma? Why did I agree to meet Victor’s parents?”
“You agreed because he asked you to,” Vonda gently reminded her. “And the fact that he did tells me that he’s very serious about you. Before tonight, I wasn’t sure how serious you were about him. But now, seeing what a basket case you are over meeting his parents, I have my answer.”
Tamara blushed, meeting her mother’s quiet, discerning gaze. “It’s only natural that I would want Mr. and Mrs. Aguilar to like me, Ma. We’re about to spend an entire evening together. It’s going to be pretty awkward if they decide right off the bat that they hate me.”
“Of course.” But the knowing gleam in Vonda’s dark eyes let Tamara know that she saw right through her explanation.
Averting her gaze, Tamara glanced down anxiously at her wristwatch. “They’re late. Maybe they decided not to come.”
Vonda chuckled dryly. “Or maybe they’re just operating on colored people’s time.”
For the first time that evening, Tamara laughed. “Then I guess we’ll have something in common after all.”
Vonda snorted. “Says who? You’ve never been late a day in your life. You arrived two weeks earlier than your due date, and every Sunday before church you were always dressed and ready to leave the house before I’d even gotten out of bed.”
“Speaking of church,” Tamara muttered darkly, eyeing the front entrance of the restaurant, “let Victor show up later than his parents, and he’s gonna need some serious intercessory prayer after I get done with—” She broke off at the sight of him striding purposefully through the doors. She exhaled a sigh of relief. “There he is. Thank God.”
Quickly she rose and hurried to meet him as he headed toward the plush waiting area. He looked devastatingly handsome in a charcoal dress shirt that was open to the strong column of his throat and accentuated his broad, muscular shoulders. Well-tailored black trousers hung low on his lean waist and rode his long legs to perfection. Though he’d gotten a fresh shave and a haircut, he still exuded an air of rakish dishabille that defied taming.
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