Hotblooded (15 page)

Who cares? This was her space and she should enjoy it. Screw normal, screw conservative, screw trying to impress anyone. “Jack thinks we need to repaint to make the clinic successful. And really, what’s a friendlier color than yellow?”

“You said that?” Carla asked Jack.

“Sure, everyone knows that yellow clinics do better than any other color,” he said.

Brooke didn’t look at him, but she did smile.

“You do realize I think you’re nuts,” Carla said.

Brooke wasn’t sure which of them she was talking to.

Carla went off to make some phone calls and Jack said, “Tell me, Ms. Donovan, would you say that you’re prone to overreacting?”

She smiled serenely. As a matter of fact, she
was
prone to overreacting. “You think yellow is too much?”

“It was the purple that got me.”

She smiled. “Maybe I’ll let you pick one of the colors.”

“Great. And, if painting doesn’t work, we can always hope someone eats too much biscotti or scalds their tongue on the coffee so we can showcase our medical care along with our chai tea.”

“Oh, chai tea. I’ll have to add that to the menu.”

They stood grinning stupidly at each other and Brooke was literally reaching for him and he was literally leaning closer, when Carla called for her from the front.

“Hey, Brooke, can you come up here for a minute?”

She took a deep breath and reluctantly pulled herself from the cocoon of intimacy that seemed to wrap itself around her and Jack so easily.

Carla. Work. Right. “Sure.”

She stepped through the swinging door and froze.

The three bouquets of flowers were so big that the delivery man was mostly hidden behind the arrangement of roses he now held. Brooke stood with her mouth hanging open. Besides the vase of roses, there was also one of tiger lilies and one of a variety of wildflowers. They were all stunning.

After he set the roses on the counter the man handed her a card.

“Have a great day, ladies,” he said with a little salute.

Brooke handed the card to Carla.

“What’s this for?” the nurse asked.

“Well, they sure aren’t mine,” Brooke said. Though she was jealous. They were gorgeous and romantic and she’d never had anything like that ever happen to her.

Carla didn’t hesitate, but ripped the envelope open. Then gasped. “Brooke, they are for you!”

“Not funny.” Brooke frowned at her friend.

“They are,” Carla insisted.

Brooke crossed her arms. “How do you know?”

“Because the card says, ‘Dear Brooke’.”

Brooke frowned but dropped her arms. “It does?”

“Yes.” Carla grinned at her.

“What else does it say?”

“Your desk is my favorite piece of furniture too.”

Brooke’s cheeks heated. She was stunned. Jack? He’d sent her flowers? A boatload of flowers?

Carla waved the card back and forth. “What’d you do to deserve this?”

Brooke opened her mouth to say
nothing
, but Carla’s comment sunk in just then. “Oh, my gosh. Help me get these into my office!”

She swept the lilies and wildflowers up while Carla, thankfully without question, took the roses. Brooke hurried to her office and deposited the vases on her desk. When all three bouquets were safely out of public sight she sighed.

“You okay?” Carla asked.

“I just don’t want any questions or rumors,” Brooke said. She knew Carla understood.

“Okay.”

“Will you tell Jack to come in here?” Brooke asked.

Carla gave her a wink. “Sure thing.”

And it was that wink that summarized all of Brooke’s fears.

If the thought occurred to her friend, Brooke could only imagine what thoughts and scandal everyone else would come up with.

And they’d be true. Very true.

It seemed to take him forever to get to her office. Brooke heard Jack’s voice even before he made it to her door. She stepped out of her office to find him halfway down the hall answering some question for Carla.

She strode up to him, pushed him into the nearest exam room and shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He gave her a little grin as if he knew exactly what they were talking about.

“The flower garden that showed up five minutes ago.”

“Did you like them?”

“Well, yes, but…you can’t send me flowers,” she exclaimed.

“Evidently I can.” He propped his hip on the corner of the exam table and looked smug.

“What I mean is, it’s not a good idea. It will cause problems.”

“Like what?”

“People will talk. They’ll think we’re involved.”

“What’s wrong with that?” He frowned now.

“It will confirm their belief that I sleep with every guy who comes to town.”

“Brooke—”

“Seriously, Jack,” she said. “Thank you. They’re beautiful, but you can’t do stuff like that.” Which sucked, because she really liked them. She liked that he’d sent them. She liked the whole damned thing.

“Is that also a no to the date I haven’t even asked you out on yet?”

“It’s a—” She stopped as his words registered. “You were going to ask me out on a date?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” She couldn’t ignore the thumping of her heart. A date. With Jack. Dammit, why did he have to be so…tempting?

He smiled. “Really.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I want to spend time with you.”

“But…we can’t.” She regretted those words almost more than any others she’d ever spoken. “My goal here is to show them that I can be a responsible, professional and respectable member of the community.”

“Pure and chaste, honest and true?”

She heard the sarcastic tone to the question, but she paused and considered the words. “Yes,” she said finally.

“That’s really too bad.”

She looked at him, admittedly suspicious. “Why did you send me flowers? You could have just asked me out and we could have had this conversation.”

“Have you ever gotten flowers before?” he asked.

“No.” How did he know that?

“Well, I think every woman should get flowers from an admirer at least once.”

“You’re an admirer?” she asked softly, touched in spite of herself.

He stepped close and looked down at her, a strangely gentle look in his eyes. “Yes, I’m an admirer.”

Her heart tripped and she was at a loss for words temporarily. He was an admirer. He’d sent her flowers. He’d wanted to ask her on a date.

So this is what this feels like.

She smiled. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Should I ask you for that date now?”

She hadn’t wanted anything so much in a very long time. Maybe not ever.

The sadness was surprisingly sharp. Brooke had to press her lips together to stop the trembling before she said, “No.”

She couldn’t believe she was turning Jack down. She had more willpower than she thought. But she had to get away from him before she threw her image and reputation to the wind.

She was at the door when he said, “If I really thought you didn’t want to, I’d stop asking.”

Turning slowly she narrowed her eyes. “But?”

“You do want to.”

“Based on what? The scene in my office yesterday? I’ll give you a hint, Jack, you don’t have to buy me dinner or flowers to get more of that.”

He pushed off the table. “That’s good to know. Because I definitely want more of that. And I’m glad you said that so you know when I keep asking it’s because I want more than that.”

“That’s stupid,” she told him bluntly. “You’re leaving. Why would I want to get involved with you?”

“Because it’s gonna be the best you’ve ever had.”

The promise in his words sent shivers down her spine. She had absolutely no doubt that he was right.

“I’m positive the sex would be amazing,” she assured him.

“Not just the sex.” Though he certainly didn’t deny they were going to do that too. “All of it. Every minute, every bite, every laugh, every kiss. And yes, every orgasm.”

As in, more than one. Her heart was racing and she couldn’t remember wanting anything as much as she wanted to date Jack Silver. She wanted to strip him down, pour cappuccino over every inch of him, and then ride him until they both couldn’t move. But she also wanted to date him.

“In that case, there’s no way we’re dating. Or kissing—anymore. Or having sex.”

“That’s stupid,” he informed her.

“Look, you don’t get it.” She sighed. And she really didn’t want to explain it. There was one near sure-fire way to turn him off of this. “Basically, if we date, or have sex, or both, we’re going to have to get married.”

He just looked at her, then nodded. “So this is like painting the clinic yellow—an overreaction so that you don’t have to admit that I have some good—amazing even—ideas.”

“Actually, that’s not what this is. I absolutely can’t—will not—have an affair with you.”

“You’re a grown woman. You’re not married, you’re—”

“The town slut.”

He blinked at her, obviously taken aback.

“That’s right. That’s how I got Mike. That’s how I got everything I’ve ever had. At least according to this town.”

Jack stepped toward her. “Surely you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

She stepped back, away from him before he could touch her. “Are there patients waiting?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then come with me.” She pivoted on her heel and headed for the door, not even pausing to see if he was following.

“Where are we going?” he asked. But he started after her.

“On a tour.”

“Of what?”

“Honey Creek.”

“Why?”

She stopped and turned so suddenly he practically knocked her over before he could stop.

“Because you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“What…” he started but she’d already turned and stomped away again.

“Where’re you two goin’?” Carla asked with her usual perkiness as they passed the desk.

“To the house,” Brooke said, her attitude anything but perky.

Carla looked startled and turned her eyes to Jack. He could only shrug. He didn’t even know what house. Not to mention why. Well, besides the bit about him not knowing what the hell he was talking about, of course.

“Page us if anything comes up,” Brooke told the nurse as she continued on past the desk.

“Okeydokey,” Carla said brightly, but she gave Jack a sympathetic grimace as he passed her.

He considered digging in his heels and refusing to go farther with Brooke until she explained. But curiosity won out. Whatever she was going to show him had to be interesting if nothing else.

Brooke didn’t say another word as they got in the car and drove out of the clinic’s parking lot and headed west.

Three miles outside of town, Brooke turned right onto a white crushed-rock road. Honey Creek was not a large town, and Jack had been sure he’d seen all of it in his few days in town. He’d been wrong.

The road was actually a private drive, he realized when what he assumed to be a huge house materialized at the end of the drive. A very unique house.

But mansion was a much more accurate word.

It was a three-story rectangle, but four huge cylinder shapes broke the structure up into four sections. All of the windows—and there were a lot of windows—were huge and…round. None of them were covered with draperies of any sort.

Not only was it enormous, but it was also…well…pink.

Carnation pink. Little-girl-birthday-cake-frosting pink. Barbie pink.

Brooke parked in the circular drive in front of the twelve steps that led to the front door and Jack whistled low.

“Nice,” he said mildly.

“Thanks.”

He glanced at Brooke. She was staring at the house with a mixture of contempt and sadness.

“It’s yours?”

“Sort of.”

“Meaning?”

She sighed and faced him. “It was my mother’s. I lived here until I went to college. She gave it to me when she went to Vegas.”

“But you don’t live here now?”

“Hell no,” she said sharply. “I hated living here when I had to. I have a choice now.”

“It’s…”

“Atrocious.”

“No,” he said carefully. “The color is…unusual. But the house is beautiful.”

“Well, now you can see where I get my tendency to over-react.” She glanced at him. “And why over-the-top gestures from others make me nervous.”

Okay, maybe he’d overdone the flowers, but he’d loved it. It wasn’t clear to him how he knew she’d never had flowers from a man before, but he’d been thrilled to find out he was right.

He stretched an arm across the back of the car seat, stopping just short of touching her. “Tell me the story.”

There had to be a story behind this house. And Brooke’s disdain.

“You want to know how my mother could afford this house.”

He shrugged. “I have no idea what your mother did for a living. How do I know if she could afford it or not?”

“She could.” Brooke sighed. “Unfortunately.”

He didn’t say anything, wanting her to go on, afraid she wouldn’t, but unwilling to push.

“My mother moved me here when I was sixteen,” she said finally, her gaze on the house again. “She brought me here to make a better life, to give me a fresh start.” She laughed derisively. “But she built this house. Can you believe that?”

“It’s a nice house,” he said again.

“Yeah, I had a suite all to myself. Bathroom, living room, bedroom. I thought it was cool, until I found out she did it to keep me out of the way. Not to mention the pool, the home theater system, my own convertible, the best clothes…” She trailed off as if exhausted. “Not exactly the way to lay low and blend in.”

“Your mom didn’t like to blend in?”

Brooke pulled a photo from her wallet and handed it over with a sigh. It was of a beautiful woman with long, fluffy blonde hair, dressed in a bright pink tank top that hugged generous breasts, skin-tight pink shorts that emphasized a tiny waist and curvy hips, and strappy pink sandals that adorned feet with nails painted bright pink. Her lipstick, fingernail polish and hair barrette were also all pink.

“My mom didn’t know how to blend in,” Brooke said. “It just wasn’t in her character.”