His hands stopped trembling. His palms stopped sweating. The only thing that mattered was that she say yes. All he had to do was ask her. She chose that moment to wink at him.
Simple, really.
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“Playing Doctor” in
WHEN GOOD THINGS HAPPEN
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With an indulgent smile, Axel Dean watched the young lady exit the room of suffocating, overbearing people. Damn, she was sweet on the eyes. Tall, nearly as tall as him, with raven black hair and piercing blue eyes and an air of negligence that dared him, calling on his baser instincts, stripping away the façade of civility he tried to don in polite company.
Her straight hair skimmed her shoulders, darker than his own, blue-black without a single hint of red. It was so silky it looked fluid, moving when she moved, shimmering with highlights from the glow of candles. The white catering shirt and black slacks didn’t do much for her figure, which he guessed to be slim and toned. She didn’t have the lush curves he usually favored, but what she lacked in body she made up for in attitude.
And attitude, as he well knew, made a huge difference in bed.
As a waiter passed, Axel plunked his empty glass down onto the tray and headed for the sliding doors. He hated uptight formal affairs that being a doctor often obligated him to attend. That didn’t mean he had to linger. That didn’t mean he had to mingle.
Especially when more enlivening entertainment waited outside.
Making certain no one paid him any mind, he slipped through the doors and onto a wide balcony lit by twinkling lights that mirrored the stars in the evening sky. He waited, saying a silent prayer that no one followed him. Every time he attended a gathering, women hit on him. And that’d be fine and dandy by him, given that he adored women, but not within his professional circle.
He absolutely never, ever dated anyone in his field. Not even anyone related to someone in his field.
Despite the martial bliss of both his brother and his best friend, he had no intentions of settling down any time soon. That being the case, it wouldn’t be wise to get involved with relatives, friends, or associates of the people he worked with. Walking away could cause a scene, and then the entire situation would get sticky and uncomfortable.
There were plenty of women who weren’t interested in medicine, like secretaries, lawyers…or caterers.
He’d been prepared to be bored spitless tonight. Then he’d seen her hustling around the crowded room with robust energy. At first he’d assumed her to be a mere waitress for the catering company, but given how she performed each and every job, from putting out food to collecting empty dishes to directing the others, she might actually be the one in charge. Given her air of command and confidence, he figured her to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Sexy. Mature. Flirtatious.
His heartbeat sped up, just imagining how the night might end.
When no one followed, Axel went down the curving wooden stairs to the garden paths behind Elwood’s home. The pompous ass loved to flaunt his money, and why not? He had plenty to flaunt.
Spring had brought a profusion of blooming flowers to fill the air with heady scents. The chilly evening breeze didn’t faze Axel as he searched the darkness for her. Then he saw a flare of light, realized it was a match, and made his way silently toward her.
She had her back to him, going on tiptoe to reach the top of an ornate torch anchored to the ground and surrounded by evergreens. Just as the wick caught, Axel said, “Hello.”
She went perfectly still, poised on tiptoes, arms reaching up to the top of the torch. Slowly, in an oh-so-aware way, she relaxed and turned to face him.
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He smiled slightly as his gaze traveled over her face, the fall of her dark hair, just noticing the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Her expression was at once innocent, and sexy. A hell of a combination. Jack wasn’t much on centerfold types, pretty was good, but most times, after a couple months, he didn’t like what he found beneath. With Syd, he already knew what lay beneath, besides a wicked sense of humor.
“Well, don’t just jump to answer. Take your time.”
“I’m thinking a kiss will never be enough,” he murmured, lowering his head.
“I’m so wide open to suggestions it’s pathetic.”
His dark chuckle rumbled in the hallway an instant before he laid his mouth over hers. Something unfamiliar crackled through him. It wasn’t instant, it’d been there, waiting—in that place he’d packed away most of his emotions, the need to link himself with her when he’d been solitary for so long. He kissed her and kissed her and somewhere in between, the barrier broke, poured like water from a shattered dam.
Sydney felt it, a difference in him. Patience turned possessive, as if he was staking claim, that he knew she’d deny him nothing of herself. She wouldn’t. His hands splayed her back, driving up her spine as his warm mouth rolled back and forth over hers. She felt his restraint, his need to crush and take. Her brain went fuzzy, her thoughts centered on only one thing. More. I want more with this man.
Jack gave. “You know where we’re going.” It wasn’t a question.
Yet her answer spoke when her tongue slid into his mouth, in her hips rising to mesh with his. Jack nearly roared, letting go a little more. His hands mapped her contours and she moaned, a delicious little sound that nearly tore through his restraint.
Impatiently, he backed her up against the nearest wall, devouring her mouth as his hands plowed over her body.
She winced and jerked back. “Ow, sorry, oh, that stings.”
He looked down at her leg. It was bleeding again. “Oh, hell. Sorry, baby. Let’s have a look now. Have a seat in the kitchen, the light’s better.”
Almost robotic, he turned away, and went deeper into the house. She stared at his back for a second, too turned on to move.
Then he called out, “And take those pants off, too.”
She smiled. “You’re always telling me to do that.” She went into the kitchen and slipped her jeans off.
He came back with a large plastic toolbox. “And you keep doing it. What’s that say?”
She sat at the kitchen table in panties and a T-shirt, peeling the layers of gauze. Her breath hissed.
“Stop that before you tear the skin,” he said, and she looked up. He tugged her to her feet, gripped her at the waist, and lifted her to the counter. She gasped at the cold stone under her bare skin.
“Do you always just do what you want without asking?”
He looked chagrined. “By your leave, ma’am, I’m not used to waiting to take action.”
“That just excites me all over. Bossy men, who’da thunk it?”
He snapped on latex gloves. “Wiseass.” He carefully cut the bandage away and started cleaning the wound. It was bleeding at the point of impact, but the rest was dried and sticky.
He wasn’t all that gentle and Syd smacked him on the shoulder when it hurt too much. “Ease up. I’m not a Marine, ya know.”
“Oh, I know.” He winked, then rummaged in the large kit. He snapped the cap of a small plastic tube with a needle on the end. “This will help.”
“Is that necessary?” Though it felt on fire right now.
“Unless you have an amazing pain threshold, this is really gonna hurt. Too much blood is caked on the wound. There could be fibers from the jeans in it, glass. It did pass through the window. And who was telling me about how fast germs multiply?”
She gestured for him to keep working. “You could have stopped at fibers.”
“I have to open it back up.”
“Gee, no stick to bite? No whiskey?”
“I have morphine.”
She shook her head. “Go ahead.” He injected the topical anesthetic, then while he waited for it to take effect, he laid out his bandages.
“We can try that later.”
“We?”
He slid her a dark sexy look that liquefied her muscles. “Nothing gets past you, huh, Einstein?”
“Not unless I want it to. And I could jump on you right now, boo-boo and all, like an undersexed teenager.”
“Undersexed?”
She lifted a bottle from the kit, read the label. “Antibiotics? Prescription?”
He got the message. She didn’t want to discuss her sex life. Fine with him. His mind was already on that lacy bra he’d bought and how it looked on her—because the transparent panties were just about driving him nuts as it was.
“Rick’s a corpsman, Navy.”
“I thought he was a Marine.”
He soaked a cloth in the sink. “Might as well be.” He hesitated for a second, in voice and moves, then said, “He found me in the mountains.”
Sydney felt oddly privileged. The tiny piece of him made her feel closer to him. Rick had saved his life. “I should thank him for that. But I swore an oath.”
He glanced, flashed a smile, then applied a wet cloth to the wound, softening the dried blood. He blotted and rubbed, taking tweezers to pluck out debris. “This will burn,” he warned and drizzled hydrogen peroxide on it. He blew and blotted again, but when she didn’t utter a sound, Jack looked up.
She sat perfectly still, gripping the counter ledge, her lips tight. Yet tears cascaded down her face.
“Aw, honey I—”
“Keep going, please.”
He felt helpless, a first in about a dozen years. Silent tears were a powerful thing to see, and he hated causing her more pain. She’d had enough for someone who didn’t wear Kevlar to the office. She bit her lip, swallowed hard, trying so hard not to sob, and Jack leaned in and kissed her, focusing everything into it, a slow molten roll of lips and tongue. She responded instantly, and he felt a tender ache in his chest when she cradled his jaw and took control. It was an eating kiss, as if her pain flowed through it, almost dark and ravenous, and when he pulled back, she looked more exotic than before.
“It still hurts like hell.” She sniffled.
“I was trying to take your mind off it.”
“And that’s all you came up with?” Her fingers dribbled down his chest to his jeans.
Christ, the woman was going to make him an idiot. “Give me a minute, I’ll think of something else.” Jack went back to cleaning the wound down to the tissue. It bled again.
Syd wanted to cry like a baby, but what good would it do? She stared at the long, narrow gouge, seeing exactly how close they came to dying today. She’d have a permanent reminder of how precious life had become.
“I know it looks bad,” he said, “but it has to heal from the inside out. It’s broad enough that stitches would just make the scar worse.”
“The scar’s the least of my problems.”
He covered it with antibacterial ointment, then bandaged it. He sat, and propped her leg on his shoulder to wrap the ace around her thigh. “Bad fashion statement in a bikini?” He secured it, then pulled off the surgical gloves.
“As if. You do not want to see this body in a bikini.” She was glad to think of anything but the pain right now.
His gaze lingered over her. “You underestimate yourself, Einstein.” He kissed her bandaged leg.
“I rarely do, Jack. I know my weaknesses.” She slid her leg off his shoulder, and for a moment she just stared. “Algorithms, English Lit, loading i-Pods…” Suddenly, she gripped handfuls of his bloody shirt, yanked. “And right now—you.”
Her mouth covered his in a swoop of heat and put every seductive nuance into it. There wasn’t much information in her past to gather. She’d spent her adult life getting her doctorate or using it. But she tried.
And she was winning.
Jack felt like a puppet being played and he let her. Her life was in shambles and she wanted control, wanted to command something and he let it be him. She teased, drawing back and making him chase her, then erotically licked the line of his lips before she pushed her tongue between. A hot, desperate need riddled him down to his heels as she kissed him. He wanted her, right now, on the counter, and the image made his dick like lead in his jeans. When she broke the kiss, it was to peel off his shirt. Her hands scraped over his skin, and she dragged her tongue across his nipple, then suckled.
It left him trembling, his head thrown back, and he gripped her hips, wedging closer. His hand slid upward, under her shirt, shaping her ribs, teasing the underside of her breasts cupped in a lacy bra. Her kiss intensified.
“Keep that up, Marine. Please.”
He drew off her shirt, his lip quirking at the pink lace bra. A quick flick and it was falling. Jack swept it away. His gaze rolled down her body, and everything between them seemed to go still for a moment. By increments she leaned closer, her nipples grazing his chest. That first press of flesh to flesh held a sort of euphoria, crossing the line of intimacy. Jack had helped a lot of people, rescued many, killed to save them, but nothing compared to the single moment when you invited someone this close. He fought for patience when he was craving her like air, his body flexing with need. Although Syd might have a mouth on her, he sensed this was a brave thing to do.
She was still, waiting for his touch, watching his hands come toward her and when they did, Syd experienced something close to nirvana. She covered his big hands and arched and Jack kissed her and kissed her, loving her moans, her eagerness.
He wouldn’t last long.
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Andi straightened and caught him staring. Tuck shrugged. He was attracted to her and wasn’t even going to pretend he wasn’t. Everything about her turned him on.
Suddenly all the confidence he’d seen seemed to drain away. She held the can out to him and hurried behind her standard issue desk. There was something different in her body language now. This wasn’t the same woman who’d joked with her men about strippers.
He hooked his ankle over his knee. Popping the tab on the top of the can, he took a long drag hoping the icy beverage would cool the heat of his body. The heat that was being generated by the woman sitting across from him—eyeing him warily.
He held the Coke can loosely in one hand trying to look as non-threatening as possible. But he wanted her and he knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t going to back away without a fight, or watching her and waiting for everything to click into place.
As an arson investigator he had to be intimately aware of human behavior. The subject had always intrigued him. He’d never met a person who he hadn’t wanted to figure out. Find out why they behaved the way they did. It was the same techniques he used to find arsonists.
He just had to figure out what the turn-on was. Why they were drawn to fire. And what they hoped to get out of it.
Shamelessly, he used the same techniques with women. And nine times out of ten it worked. Of course, that one time when it didn’t work, had served to keep him humble. He knew on one level that he didn’t know everything about women or about human nature. But he’d been willing to turn failure into success.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave.
“I like the way your mouth looks,” he said, his own voice sounding deeper and huskier than normal. Damn, this woman made him hotter than he’d been in a long time. And, honestly, she wasn’t doing anything other than being herself. He didn’t understand this attraction to her but he knew himself well enough that he didn’t question it.
“You are making me uncomfortable,” she said, chewing on her lower lip. “And I don’t like it.”
“Your mouth is making me uncomfortable.” She wasn’t helping him get his mind back on bu
siness. “And I do like it.”
“I can’t be responsible for your fantasies,” she said, in a way that made him realize that this was a woman at home in the business world but not one-on-one with a man.
“Yes, you can.” She was solely responsible for those fantasies. He’d never had this problem on the job before. But if she nibbled on her lower lip one more time, he was coming across the desk and tasting her mouth for himself.
“Why? If I was a guy sitting here you wouldn’t be having those fantasies would you?” She sat up straighter in her chair and that fire that he’d seen earlier was back.
It was there in her eyes. She had the kind of passion that most women were afraid of. And he knew she was afraid of it too, but when she felt threatened it came out with her temper.
“No, but neither of us can change the fact that you are a woman. One I can’t help but notice.”
She opened one of the files on her desk. “Well, stop.”
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Unwrapped
Copyright © 2011 Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Blue Christmas” copyright © 2011 Erin McCarthy
“Santa in a Kilt” copyright © 2011 Donna Kauffman
“Snow Angel” copyright © 2011 Kate Angell
You Don’t Know Jack
Copyright © 2006 by Erin McCarthy
Bad Boys in Kilts
Copyright © 2006 by Donna Kauffman
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