by Cathryn Fox
As tired as he was, he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight, not after finally finding her. “I’m sure.” He looked over his shoulders and scanned the empty parking lot. His car was still at the hospital. With no other vehicle in sight, she had to be traveling by foot, and while the neighborhood was fairly safe, the idea of her walking alone at night didn’t sit well with him.
“Can I give you a lift?”
“I’d rather walk.”
“Okay,” he said, turning toward the tree-lined walkway that wove past the hospital and through the core of downtown. He took three steps then stopped. Why wasn’t she following? He craned his neck to see her. “I thought you wanted to walk.”
She pointed up. “I live in the loft upstairs.”
“Oh.” Carson spun and followed her gaze. A narrow set of stairs on the side of the building led to the upper floor apartment. He hadn’t noticed it before now. “Do you want me to wait here while you get Gracie, or do you want me to come up?”
She shrugged and hiked her purse higher on her shoulder. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get changed so I guess you can come up and wait.”
He arched brow. “Oh yeah?”
“Don’t get any ideas.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “I’m just changing my clothes and getting my dog.”
He stepped in toward her, their bodies close but not touching. “Ideas?” He softened his words and coiled one long strand of her hair around his finger. “What kind of ideas do you think I might have, Gemma?”
She tugged away from him. “Oh, that I have ulterior motives for inviting you up.”
“Such as?”
“You’re a smart guy. I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”
“Apparently you do,” he teased, holding his hands up, palms out to display his innocence. “I wasn’t suggesting anything other than coming up to wait.” She was right, of course. He did have all kinds of dirty thoughts and ideas about what the two of them could do inside her apartment. Feigning insult, he scoffed. “I think maybe you’re the one with the ideas. How do I know you’re not trying to get me alone to have your way with me?”
She shook her head. “Are you always so annoying?”
He laughed. “Annoying? Women have called me a lot of things. You know, like hot stuff, adorable, and stud muffin… But annoying was never one of them.”
“Stud muffin? Who calls you that, your grandmother?”
“Jesus, that’s just wrong.” He made a face like he’d just sucked a lemon. “What kind of weirdo are you anyway?” he teased. “Grandma would never say something like that to her grandson.”
“Her friend, then? Someone older.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”
“Then what exactly would you say?”
He kicked at an imaginary pebble. “I’m pretty sure Ethel is at least a year younger than Grandma.”
Gemma laughed. “Come on, Stud Muffin,” she said, and then mumbled something else under her breath and started up the steep flight of stairs. He followed behind, her sexy body dragging every dirty idea he ever had to the forefront of his brain. Her skirt lifted with each step, exposing the soft swell of her tanned backside. Christ, did she sunbathe in the nude? A groan caught in his throat, and she stopped and turned.
“What now?”
He coughed. “I’m not complaining, but you might want to wear panties with that uniform.”
She ran her hand over the back of her skirt, smoothing it over her luscious ass, and scowled at him. “I am wearing panties. Maybe you should just stop looking so hard.”
He adjusted his pants. No sense in hiding what she did to him. “Key word being hard, Gemma.”
She glared at him, but he didn’t miss the twitch in her lips. “This is dinner and nothing more. Just so we’re clear, I don’t owe you anything other than that.”
“Right. Dinner. I know.” He coughed again. “But just so you’re clear, I do want to have sex with you again. I don’t believe in playing games, unless of course handcuffs are involved, so I figured I might as well get that right out there in the open.”
A beat of silence, and then, “I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not having sex with you, Carson.”
His cock twitched at her feeble protest. “Say that again.”
“I’m not having sex with you, Carson.”
“No, just that last part.”
She eyed him and her sweet pink tongue snaked out and brushed over her bottom lip. Was she trying to kill him?
“Carson.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I want you to say it just like that when I’m inside you.” He kept his expression deadpan when her mouth dropped open in a silent O. He probably shouldn’t be trying to rattle her, but she was just so damn sexy when she was thrown off her game—and yeah, she was playing with him as much as he was playing with her. There was a connection between them whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not. The push/ pull was palpable, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use everything in his arsenal to explore it further.
She blinked several times and then gave him a punch on the shoulder. He slipped down a step and grabbed the rail to hold on. Damn, those boney knuckles hurt like hell. He rubbed his arm, but he liked that she could take care of herself.
“What was that for?”
“Oh, like you don’t know.” He shrugged like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Okay, that’s it. You deserve this.” She fished her keys from her pocket, darted up the steps, and opened her door. “Gracie,” she called out, and the biggest, ugliest pit bull he’d ever set eyes on came barreling down the stairs toward him.
“Holy shit.” He nearly fell when the dog rammed her nose into his crotch. He gripped the rail harder, and winced as she buried her face between his legs as if she was settling in for the winter, or a late night snack. A growl rumbled in Gracie’s throat, and pain shot through him. He bent forward and cursed, bracing himself for the loss of his manhood.
“Gracie,” Gemma called, a note of panic in her voice as she slapped her leg. “Here, girl.”
Gracie backed off his crotch, and one large mitt the size of a baseball glove pawed gently—playfully—at his shoulder. So, she wasn’t after his balls? Carson reached for her paw when a long wet tongue swished across his face—his mouth specifically.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Jesus,” he cursed. Gracie was the last one he thought he’d be French kissing tonight. Her tail beat against the wooden steps, her whole body curving and snaking with excitement. Some guard dog she was turning out to be.
“Gracie,” Gemma said again, her voice firm. “I said come here.”
Gracie spun and ran back up the stairs, and Carson took a minute to catch his breath. “So, that’s Gracie, the man-eater.”
“You okay?” Gemma asked, skipping back down the steps, the vibrations going straight to his aching testicles.
“Of course I’m not okay. I nearly lost my balls.” He put his hand between his legs to make sure they were still there. One. Two. Thank God.
“I’m sorry, Carson. She gets excited at times, but honestly, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Yeah, we’ve already established that. She likes flies, hates men.” Gemma sank onto the step, and he lifted his head to find her hand over her mouth, working to stifle a chuckle.
“I never expected her to do that,” she said.
Her eyes glistened, and it was all he could do not to pull her hands away, kiss that sweet mouth of hers, and turn her laugh into a moan. “You think this is funny?” he asked, his voice unnaturally high.
“No.” The one word was muffled behind her palm. He liked seeing her relaxed like this. Like that night so long ago. No facade, no lies, no performances. Damned if he didn’t want that again—just once.
Carson sucked in a breath. “She nearly turned me into a eunuch.”
She rolled her eyes at him and laughed harder. “I hardly think so.”
He straightened and
groaned. “Does she greet all guys like this?”
“I don’t normally…”
She stopped speaking, as if she’d said too much. But the implication was there. She didn’t normally bring guys home. Why the fuck did that make him so happy? He just wanted to have sex with her again. Heck, maybe a dozen more times while he was home for the summer. Then he’d have her out of his system and move on, like he always did. He wasn’t sure why he had such a restlessness inside him, but he never liked to stay in one spot too long. Fortunately for him, his career allowed him to move around to different ERs whenever he got the itch to leave.
“Can we go inside so I can sit?”
She reached for his arm and put it around her shoulder. “Here let me help you.”
He didn’t need the help, but he’d be an idiot to refuse it. He slipped his arm from her shoulder and slid it around her waist, enjoying her soft curves as she guided him inside. Gracie sat on a plush dog bed, her tail thumping, eager for attention.
“I’ll be right back.” Gemma pointed at one of the two chairs at her small dinette set. Worry shadowed her eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She turned to Gracie and wagged her finger. “Gracie, you play nice.”
Carson stood there and let his gaze move around her place. The wide-open loft consisted of a kitchenette, a two-person table full of stones and jewels, and a compact living room that contained only a worn leather sofa, coffee table, and a small television.
“How long have you lived here?” He shrugged his backpack off and set it by the table.
“I’m just here for the summer.”
He dropped into a chair, and adjusted his pants over his aching balls. “Yeah, me too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I just got into town, and I’m staying at my parents’ cottage until I find a place. They’ll be moving in for the summer next week. You at least remember that place don’t you?” he teased.
“Vaguely,” she replied.
He looked over the jewels and tools scattered on her table, picking up a stone and examining it more closely. Did she make jewelry? “So you’re just working at the bar for the summer?”
“Yeah, for some extra cash. I’m subletting my apartment in Brooklyn for the summer. Janice offered me this loft rent-free so I jumped on it. Andy used to live here, but she and Janice just moved into a house not too far from here.”
“Janice?”
“Andy’s mom. She bought Score a few years back. She used to work at the hospital and saw a need for good nutritious food for the staff. Apparently if you’re not a patient at the hospital, you soon would be after eating the cafeteria food.”
He laughed. “I’ll remember that. Is Andy a nurse?” She was dressed in nursing scrubs at the bar. But then again, Gemma was dressed as a naughty nurse. So far, only the naughty part applied.
“Yup, she followed in her mother’s footsteps,” Gemma called out, bringing him back to the present.
At the mention of mothers, he thought of his own, and his gut clenched. He was looking forward to seeing his folks, but another summer of them trying to marry him off gave him a rash. He’d do just about anything to get them off his back.
“What about you?” He picked up a ring and placed it in his palm. The piece was intricate and interesting. “Did you follow in your mother’s footsteps?”
Silence. He glanced down the small hall and caught a glimpse of Gemma moving around inside the bedroom, stripping off her nurse’s uniform and pulling clothes from her dresser. The gentleman in him urged him to look the other way; the man in him told that guy to fuck the hell off. His teeth snapped as he clenched his jaw and focused on the dog. Fuck me. He went down on one knee and cupped Gracie’s face.
“No,” she finally said, and from the pain behind that one word, Carson suspected he’d hit a sore spot. “I’m a jeweler.”
Dropping the subject for the time being, he rubbed Gracie’s ears, and she pushed against him. “Hey, girl,” he said. “You like that?” Gracie whined. “It’s like this—you be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. So next time I come, leave the balls alone, no French kissing, and I’ll give you an ear rub.”
“Do you have a dog?” she called out.
“No, I always wanted one, but I’m never in one place long enough. Plus I work long hours. It wouldn’t be fair to any pet.”
He gave Gracie another rub and climbed to his feet. “How long have you had her?”
“Just a couple years. She’s a rescue dog. I wasn’t lying when I said she wasn’t that fond of men.” A rustling sound reached his ears and he resisted the urge to steal a peek. “She’d never bite or anything, but when I have her at the park, she growls at the guys, especially the bigger ones. I think her previous owner was a man. Strange that she likes you.”
His fingers clenched. Any person who’d hurt an animal was the lowest form of life. What the fuck was wrong with people?
“You okay?”
Her voice was close this time, and he turned to find her standing a few feet away. “What?”
Her gaze moved over his face, and he scrubbed the stubble on his chin. She blinked up at him. “You look like you want to kick something.”
“Yeah, the guy that hurt her.”
Gemma went quiet for a moment, thoughtful, her lips curving into a smile. He seized that minute to let his gaze drop. He took in tight jeans that hugged her curves, and a white, V-neck T-shirt that exposed the soft swell of her breasts. She came closer, and he grew rigid with arousal when he caught the floral scent of her shampoo. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her. Sure, she was hot in her nurse uniform, but seeing her in her casual clothes, relaxed and real, was just about the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen.
“You might want to grab a sweater. It’s cooling off,” he said, before all his blood rushed to his dick.
“That reminds me.” She rushed to her room and came back with his Nautica hoodie.
His brain stalled for a moment. “Is that—?”
“Yeah.”
“You kept it all these years.” He shook his head. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s a perfectly good sweater, Carson.” Her long hair fell forward, shadowing her face as she examined the hoodie. “Why would I throw it out?”
“Are you some kind of hoarder?” Or did the sweater have meaning to her, and she couldn’t bring herself to toss it? Had she been thinking of him over the years as much as he’d been thinking of her?
She held it out to him. “You can have it back.”
He took it from her and lifted it. It looked worn and well used. “I’ve grown since I was nineteen. This isn’t going to fit. Here, you wear it.” He tugged it over her head, and she slipped into it. It was big and baggy and she looked absolutely adorable in it. “It looks better on you.”
A light pink tinge brushed her cheek. “Let me grab Gracie’s leash, and we’ll go.”
At the sound of her name, Gracie’s tail wagged. “You like that, do you, girl?” Carson asked, petting her head.
Gemma came back and ran her hand over Gracie’s neck, hooking the leash to her collar. She bent at the waist, the fantasy inspiring position messing with his last working brain cell, and for a brief moment their fingers connected. His glance shot to hers to find her staring back, and the mood changed, shifted. He leaned closer, listened to the variations in her breathing. Fuck, he needed to kiss her.
She straightened, breaking the connection, the moment. “All set?
“Yeah. But isn’t there something you need to do first?”
She cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes in warning. “Such as?”
“Don’t you have a date to break?”
Confusion moved over her face, then she nodded quickly. “Right, I forgot.” She grabbed her phone from her purse, and he stood back watching carefully as her fingers raced over the screen. “All good,” she said, dropping it on to the table.
“
Should I expect a jealous boyfriend to come rushing in here after me?” He flexed his bicep.
She laughed. “I’m pretty sure it won’t come to that. Nor do I want it to.”
“Why not?”
“Are you forgetting how much little old Gracie freaked you out?”
“Pit bull, Gemma. Sharp teeth.”
“So you’re, uh…” She crinkled her nose and pointed to his crotch. “Feeling better?”
“I think the swelling is down.” At least in his balls.
“I really am sorry.” She frowned. “I honestly didn’t expect her to do that. I think you were just standing at the right position on the steps for her height.”
“More like the wrong position.” She laughed and opened the door. Pulling himself together, he followed her out, and she locked up behind them. “I think she was just a dog being a dog. She needed to check me out first, make sure I didn’t have any bad intentions.” Which of course he did. Gracie wagged her tail. “See, she agrees.”
He brushed his hand along her back. Sweet pit bull, Gracie. She was all kinds of contradictions, much like her owner. Tough as nails one minute, soft and vulnerable the next. Gemma could act the aloof bad girl all she wanted, but she was forgetting who she was trying to fool. He’d been there that night she gave herself to him. He’d glimpsed the scared and lonely girl behind the mask. One who’d just needed to be held—by him—and then let her vulnerability show through.
Gemma smiled. “I can’t believe she likes you.”
“At least that makes one of you,” he teased.
“I never said I didn’t like you. I said I wasn’t sleeping with you.”
He arched a brow. “So you like me, then?”
“Are you twelve?”
He laughed. “So, that’s a yes?”
“I don’t even know you.” She made her way down the stairs.
“We can rectify that.”
“How, by having sex again?”
“What is it with you and sex?” He scoffed. “That’s all you can seem to talk about tonight. Sex. Sex. Sex. One track mind, much?” She punched him in the arm, and he winced. “Why again is it you don’t want to have sex?”
“Because we can’t.”