by Elle Wright
She smiled when he pinched her chin. “I will. See you soon.”
* * *
Hours later, Drake was on his way to meet Love when he heard a familiar voice call his name. His day had sucked. The afternoon spent in the emergency department intubating patients had put him in a sour mood. But he’d rather be flipping burgers than dealing with the man behind him.
“I see you’re on your way out,” Dr. Lawrence Jackson said. “Don’t you have some time for your father?”
Drake turned to face him. “Dad. What brings you here?”
Although his father was on staff at the University Hospital, he’d been traveling in recent years, consulting on cases at several top hospitals and delivering fiery speeches at medical schools across the nation.
“You would know why I’m here if you’d answer my many phone calls.”
Drake’s father wasn’t one for a random check-in call or visit. There was always a reason behind his actions. Drake had spent most of his childhood avoiding the man, especially once he’d realized that nothing he did would ever be good enough for him. He’d worked his butt off in school, graduating at the top of his class at every stage of his education. But because he’d chosen to explore cardiothoracic surgery instead of joining the family specialty, his plastic surgeon father had made it clear that he had no use for him.
“I’m busy,” he told him. “Boards are soon, and I’ve been preparing for them.”
“And getting married.”
Drake paused, unsure how to respond. He guessed the gossip mill had churned all day after his display earlier. “Dad, can we talk about this later? I’m on my way to meet Love.”
“Your wife.” His father shook his head slowly, staring at him with a stony expression in his eyes. That familiar look of disappointment seemed etched on his face. “When did you decide to ruin your life and career, son?”
Drake sighed heavily. “What makes you think I’ve done that?”
His father explained the phone call he’d received from Love’s dad earlier in the week. The two had actually conversed about the “monumental” mistake their offspring had made in getting married. Dr. Leon had apparently gone on about how Love was his baby girl and he didn’t want Drake breaking his daughter’s heart.
“Is she pregnant?” his father asked.
Drake shook his head. “Are you crazy? No.”
He regretted his words and tone the minute he’d used them. But his dad tended to take him there. Every lecture, every criticism served to put him on the edge of a small window ledge.
“Watch your mouth,” Dr. Jackson warned.
Drake shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why would you even say that? That would imply that I only married her because she’s having my baby.”
“I had to ask. Leon is wealthy, but he’s not of my stature.”
His father’s air of superiority rankled Drake. There were all these unwritten rules for a Jackson. Too bad there weren’t rules against knocking up a woman that’s not your wife, then basically paying her to give up custody of her child to his unfeeling father. That’s what Dr. Lawrence Jackson had done to Drake’s mother, after all. And although he’d never had the chance to really know his mother, Drake had always imagined how different his life would have been if his father wasn’t such a domineering jerk.
The only contact he’d had with his mother’s family was a maternal grandmother who’d visit from time to time. Grammy had been a breath of fresh air for Drake and when she’d died of a heart attack, he had become fascinated with the heart. It was that experience that lead him to declare his desire to go into cardiothoracic surgery, to the utter displeasure of his controlling father.
“Dad, you like Love.”
That much was true. His father, always one to point out everyone’s flaws, had never given him any indication that he didn’t like Love. In fact, he’d doted on her when they were near each other, offering her drinks and laughing heartily with her.
“Oh, I think she’s a lovely person. But I don’t agree with this farce of a marriage. Especially if it is going to hamper your ambitions. Leon already told me he moved you from a few key surgeries as a result.”
“And what did you say to him?”
Heaven forbid, his father would actually defend him. Drake and his siblings were an afterthought, a means to an end. As long as they did what he told them. His younger twin brothers were also surgical residents, studying plastic surgery. And his youngest sibling, his sister, was in her final year of undergraduate studies at University of Michigan. Her goal? To become a part of the family’s thriving plastic surgery practice. Drake and El were the only two who’d deviated from that preordained plan. El had chosen to go into emergency psychiatry.
The Jackson family was a pillar in the Ann Arbor area. His father and grandfather had perfected the art of philanthropy and had spent countless hours and dollars building up the family name. Drake’s dad had moved to Las Vegas for work, and had honed his reputation in the health care field, having privileges in several Vegas area hospitals.
When Drake graduated from high school, his father decided to move back to Ann Arbor, even though he was rarely in town.
“Actually, I suggested that he get out of his feelings and reinstate you to your rightful place on the surgical resident team,” his father told him. “I will not have him jeopardizing your career over this unfortunate mistake.”
The word mistake lodged in Drake’s head. The thought that his father considered Love a mistake made him want to smack him. “Don’t call her that. She’s not a mistake.”
“I didn’t call her a mistake.” His father checked his watch. “There is a fund-raising event next week. They are honoring me with an award. You are expected to attend.”
There it was. The real reason for his visit. “I can’t be there,” Drake told him.
“You will be there. It’s not a request. On Monday, Leon wants to meet us for lunch. I told him you’d be there, as well. Get out of your feelings, and do what you need to do to get to where you want to be. Listen, I wasn’t particularly happy when you defied my wishes, but you are still better than any of those incompetent residents in the general surgery program. You have a fellowship to win at Johns Hopkins, and intubating patients and performing appendectomies won’t cut it.”
Drake scanned the area, catching a few curious glances from others. “I have to go.”
“To dinner with me,” his father said smoothly. “I have a late flight and we have business to discuss.”
The man strolled toward the elevators, winking at a nurse and giving a curt nod to another doctor, before turning expectantly to Drake.
Reluctantly, Drake followed him, sending Love a quick text, letting her know he’d see her at home later.
Chapter 11
Love rubbed her eyes and craned her neck toward the sound of her blaring phone. Frowning, she reached over to the nightstand to answer it. Only it wasn’t there. The ringing continued. She opened an eye and noticed the flashing light coming from her open purse, in the chair. Damn.
She silently prayed that whoever was calling wasn’t dying, because she had no intention of getting out of bed to answer it. Jumping, she pitched a pillow toward the offensive sound and covered her face with another one.
When the ringing stopped, she thanked God and pulled the comforter over her head. Unfortunately, the caller was persistent, and the phone sounded again. Love rolled out of bed and landed on her butt. Growling, she crawled over to her purse, dumped the contents on the floor and grabbed the phone. “What?” she yelled.
“Lovely Grace Washington!”
Oh, my God. “Hello? Hello?” She pushed the end button and hung up on her father. More than likely he wouldn’t fall for the lost signal excuse she was about to give him, but she wasn’t prepared to talk to him, especiall
y after their last conversation. She needed to gather her thoughts.
She glanced at the mound of folded blankets on the small love seat at the far end the room. Drake wasn’t home yet and it was—she glanced at the clock—11:00 p.m. Earlier that evening he had canceled their dinner with a simple text and nothing else. Now awake, she tiptoed down the stairs to the living room, then the kitchen, hoping she wouldn’t wake her mother who was in the downstairs bedroom. No Drake.
Where the hell is he?
Love hurried to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She’d fallen asleep waiting for Drake, and now she was concerned that he hadn’t called. After trying his cell a few times, and getting his voice mail, she decided to go to the hospital to see if he was there.
Stepping into the hot shower, she moaned. The water felt so good against her weary skin, but she had to make it quick. Her father was bound to call back any minute and she had no choice but to talk to him.
Once she finished, she stepped out and wrapped a huge bath sheet around her. Turning to the mirror, she wiped the condensation off and ran a comb through her hair.
“Love?” Drake called from the other side of the door.
She flung it open. “You’re here.”
He swept his gaze over her body, then turned away. “What are you doing up?”
She grabbed his arm and drew him back. “I was going to head to the hospital to find you. My father called. I hung up on him.”
“You what?”
“Where were you? I tried to call you a few times.”
“My father showed up at the hospital, and we went to dinner. Argued a little, then I went back to the hospital to check on a patient before I came here.”
A pang of guilt shot through her. She knew Drake had a volatile relationship with his dad, and that the older man’s visits often ended with a bad argument. “I’m sorry. What is he in town for?”
“Fund-raising event.” Drake shook his head. “And you should know your father called him.”
A heavy feeling settled in her stomach, and she leaned against the bathroom sink. “Wow. My dad certainly didn’t waste any time. How did that conversation go?”
“Well, they both agree that we made a mistake in getting married. Both feel that our decision is detrimental to our careers. Basically, your father doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, and neither of them believes that we’re capable of living our lives without their guidance and instruction.”
She pulled her towel tighter against her chest. Swallowing, she said, “Drake, I’m so... I feel like this is my fault. After all this time, I’ve tried to give my dad the benefit of the doubt, but he’s not the same man that I grew up with. He’s controlling and dismissive. He shouldn’t have said the things he did to you, or your father.”
“You are not to blame for your father’s actions, just like I’m not for mine.”
“I know it hurts you, because you care about him.” Love knew the respect and admiration Drake had for her father. Learning that none of that mattered now had to be a blow. “I’m so angry with him.”
“Don’t be,” Drake said. “You can’t control his reaction. But we do need to talk about this. And not just gloss over it.”
“Do you want something to drink? Or eat?”
He shook his head. “Not really.” He tugged his shirt off and shuffled into the bathroom. “My father has requested our appearance at the high society fund-raiser next Saturday. He’s getting an award, and has to make it appear that the Jackson family is loving and supportive of each other.”
“Well, I’m not coming to that.”
He looked over at her. “I know you hate events like this, but I need you there.”
Love’s stance softened at Drake’s sincerity. She knew it would be hard for him to be around his father, in the type of environment that always made him feel like a fake. He’d grown up feeling like he was “daddy’s little secret,” and Dr. Lawrence Jackson had never done much to correct that assumption.
His siblings were cool, and Love enjoyed hanging out with all of them. But they didn’t have the same baggage as Drake because they were born of marriage, albeit marriages to different women.
Dr. Law, as Love called him, had been married three times. The twins were born to his first wife. His arrival in the home had caused many a problem, because Drake was the result of a torrid affair. Dr. Jackson’s wife at the time resented Drake, even though he was not to blame for the heartache she’d suffered. She’d made life hell for him, and that’s why Love was so grateful for her loving mother, who’d never hesitated to show Drake love and understanding.
Drake was proof that money wasn’t everything. His life was anything but charmed, even though he was born with wealth and status simply because he had the last name Jackson.
Love relented. “I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
“I know how you feel about your father. This is the worst possible time for him to be in town, while we’re trying to figure things out.”
“Yeah, well, it is what it is.”
Drake made quick work of brushing his teeth and washing his face. And Love found herself staring at his broad, well-defined shoulders, his ripped back, his strong arms, and toned abs. His pants hung low on his hips, giving her a glimpse of the thin line of hair disappearing under the waistband of his black boxer briefs.
“Do you still want to talk?” he asked. The smirk on his full lips let her know that he’d caught her staring. Again.
Eyeing the door, and rubbing a hand through her wet hair, she answered, “Um, sure.”
His slow, deliberate gaze over her body sent a shiver of awareness to her core. “Don’t you think you should put on some clothes?” She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped short when he added, “Or I could take mine off so we’re equal.”
She let out a nervous laugh and stepped away from him, tripping over a shoe in the middle of the floor and tumbling backward. She landed with a loud thud on her butt. Jumping up, she struggled to regain her composure as behind her, she heard Drake chuckle. Her face and neck burned as she entertained the idea of bolting. She couldn’t turn around and face him. Her chest tightened, and a tingle swept up the back of her neck and across her cheeks. Rubbing her arms, she took in a deep breath.
He wasn’t laughing anymore. In fact, the room was too quiet. Love leaned against her dresser and listened for any sign of Drake in the room behind her. She heard him draw closer to her, until he was right behind her. She smelled the faint scent of his soap and the minty toothpaste he’d just used.
She felt his nose against the back of her neck, then his lips as he brushed them against her sensitive skin.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pressing another kiss to her back. “I shouldn’t have laughed. I think I like that I make you nervous.”
“It’s not funny, Drake.”
“You’re right. It’s not a laughing matter.”
Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t talking about her fall anymore. He confirmed that when he whispered, “You’re driving me insane, Love. This past week has been torture for me, staying in this room only a few feet away from you, not touching you like I want to.”
“I didn’t know what you were thinking,” she admitted. “We barely saw each other. You disappeared on me, and it scared me.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I know. It scares me, too.”
It was unlike him to be so vulnerable with anyone. She hated that their situation was pulling them both out of their normal routine with each other. There had never been any awkwardness between them. She was never nervous around him. But now...
“You smell so good,” he breathed against her skin, before sucking her earlobe into his mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His soft laugh made her hot, and
the way his hands roamed her body ignited the fire. He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “I want you.”
She let out a shaky breath. The admission sent her heart soaring right over the cliff edge she’d been holding on to as if her life depended on it. She was falling hard for her husband, and her emotions frightened her with their intensity.
“Drake, we should probably talk, like we said we would.”
He squeezed her hips, brushed his erection against her butt. “I know we should, but...it’s very hard to do that when all I want to do is make love to you.”
“Maybe we should sit on opposite sides of the room?” she suggested.
Drake sighed and retreated to a chair on the other side of the bed. “You’re right. Let’s do this, because we really should deal with it.”
She couldn’t figure out if he was being sarcastic or serious, especially since she hadn’t looked at him yet. Reluctantly, she turned around to face him. His eyes were dark, almost black as he assessed her. The heat in them scorched her already tingling skin.
Pulling on the robe that was lying on her bed, she shimmied out of the towel, tied the belt around her waist and sat down. “Okay, where do we start?”
“With the obvious,” he replied. “We had sex.”
He’d finally said the word without averting his gaze. She smiled to herself. “Really?” she asked sarcastically.
“That’s where we should begin.” He glared at her. “We’ve been friends for years. Why now? What made that night different?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, crossing her legs. Earlier, at the hospital, after the confrontation with Derrick, she’d taken a moment to really look at him. The Drake she knew would have never let someone push his buttons the way Derrick had. “I wish I knew.”
“Me, too. It’s not like we’ve had underlying feelings for each other, near kisses or almost moments over the years. It was out of left field.”
“I’ve seen you checking me out.”
His eyes flashed to hers. “What are—I didn’t. I mean, I’ve appreciated the gifts God gave you, but I didn’t want to do you.”