In Good Hands (5 page)

He bent down to put his mouth on her breasts. She knew without a doubt that if he was as skilled there as he seemed to be everywhere else, then she'd lose their little game within seconds. He was that good—or it had been that long for her. Either way, she wasn't going to give up that easily. With a sudden surge of strength, she freed her hands and shoved him away.

He stumbled backward. Not far, but enough that she could take some measure of control back. Dispensing with the niceties, she grabbed either side of his shirt and yanked. Buttons popped off and his shirt was halfway down his arms in a single motion.

His eyes widened as he looked down at first himself, then at her. “That is the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he said.

She grinned. She'd guessed he liked women who could match him power for power. Clearly she was right. With an
other yank, she had the shirt all the way down to his wrists, but the cuffs caught and held.

“Take it off the rest of the way,” she ordered, “or I'll just rip it.”

He shook his head, his white teeth flashing again. “You're not that strong.”

She arched her brow. “It'll hurt.”

His grin widened, so she took the challenge. She jerked as hard as she could, but the fabric was stronger than she expected. As she was busy hauling on his shirt, he used her movement to spin her around and trap her backward against his chest. And worse, his shirt now held her captive whereas he had an arm free to stroke her.

If it were only his free hand caressing her shoulder, her breasts, her belly, she would have had less trouble resisting him. But then he did something no man had ever done to her before. His lips found the back of her neck. Not just the base of her skull but lower along her spine, as his chin pushed her blouse aside.

She felt his breath across her skin, the stroke of his lips as he teased her flesh, and then the slight scrape of teeth before the soothing circle of his tongue. On her neck and all the way down to between her shoulder blades. Her entire nervous system went limp with delight. God, never before had a man found that zone and used it to his advantage like that.

The wave was upon her before she even knew it was coming. She cried out in shock as she lost control of her body. Waves of pleasure rolled through her. They were sudden and wild and the best orgasm she'd had in years.

Thank God, he held her through it all, his arms firm, his stance solid. She might have collapsed onto the floor in an undignified, boneless heap otherwise. But he was a gentleman, supporting her as she writhed in his arms. And when she finally recovered, when she at last found enough strength
to settle her feet beneath her, only then did she look up to his face. He'd won their bet, and so she expected to see a very male smirk. She didn't. His expression was open in surprise. She might even have said he looked dazed.

She twisted, her legs still wobbly. But before she could ask her question, he swooped down to kiss her. It was a deep kiss, but it was also gentle, almost reverent.

“You're amazing,” he said. “That was…amazing. I've never seen a woman look so hot when she comes.”

She didn't know how to answer. After all, she was the one who'd just come without even stepping out of her thong. He was the one with the incredible mouth. And now, when she was obviously speechless with shock, his smile did shift to a cat-ate-the-canary grin. And then he slowly unwound her from his shirt.

“Name it,” he said when she was standing directly before him.

She blinked. “Name what?”

“The time and place for round two.”

R
OGER DIDN'T TRY
to hide his grin as Amber struggled to find her dignity. She needn't bother. He thought her the sexiest thing alive just as she was. She had that cool exterior, but she'd come apart in his arms. Just from what he'd done to her neck. And didn't that just make him feel like a major stud?

It didn't even bother him that he had a boner the size of the Sears Tower. He was beyond happy—and that was the most bizarre thing given that they were still trapped in this damn elevator.

Meanwhile, Amber blinked at him, her eyes wide with shock. “I never…” she began. “I mean, it's been a while, but never before…” She shook her head, put her hands to her red cheeks and groaned. “I don't know what to say.”

She looked so vulnerable that he reached out a finger and stroked just below her left ear. It was all he could touch behind her hands. “You don't have to say anything. It was great. Seriously.”

Her hands fell away, and she frowned at him. “Okay, so you
are
gay.”

He blinked, his vision of himself as a male stud disappearing by the second. “What?”

“To put it in Claire's words, no man is that virtuous unless he's gay.”

He laughed. He hadn't meant to, but just the idea that they had been taking bets on his sexuality seemed funny to him. He was so
not
gay. And to prove it, he grabbed hold of her hand and pressed it hard against his length.

God, that felt good. She knew how to hold a man, even through his trousers. Right pressure, right stroke. His breath shuddered through him and his eyes practically rolled back in his head.

“Not gay,” he said. “Want me to prove it?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and his eyes snapped open. Her skin was still flushed, but there was definite hunger in her eyes. “God, yes,” she repeated when he just stared at her.

He didn't stop this time. He didn't hold himself back, and he sure as hell didn't go easy on her. He had her pressed up against the wall in a second. Her blouse was still open, her bra swinging free, so he could have filled his hands with her breasts. He
wanted
to fill his hands with her breasts because she had great ones. But his hands were too busy dropping his trousers.

Thankfully, she was helping him, her hands shaking as much as his. And when his pants and boxers finally dropped to his ankles, they both released a moan of pleasure.

Her thong was in the way, and he started to peel it down. But she grabbed him by the ears—ouch!—and pulled him eye to eye.

“I ripped yours,” she said.

He grinned. “As you wish.” Then he grabbed both edges of the lacy elastic and pulled. She watched him do it, her eyes lit with joy.

“That is so hot!” she breathed. Then when he was going to go right back to her, she pressed a hand to his chest. “Condom.”

He bent down to his pants and pulled his wallet out, flipping it open to the appropriate pouch. But again she stopped him with a touch, this time on his wrist.

“How long has that been in there?”

He frowned a moment, thinking back. Erg. Much too long. Sure, he had dates with hot women, but it'd been over a year since he'd brought one home with him. “Better go with yours.”

She leaned down to get her purse, and he almost came right there. Even though she'd bent her knees in a rather demure pose considering she was naked in all the important parts, he could see the pink rounded curves of her bottom, and knew just how fabulous it would feel to flip her around and drill her from behind.

He didn't. That would be crass. And besides, he didn't have the condom on yet. But he could imagine and stroke those luscious curves as she moved.

She was still bent down when she turned to pass him the foil packet, giving him a mischievous wink. “Like what you see?” she asked. And then, damn if she didn't extend her legs slowly while keeping her head down. Good God, she was flexible!

His hands were shaking as he suited up in record time. To hell with crass. She was giving him the choice, and he took it. It was only a half step to position himself, and then—yes!—a single, deep thrust and he was embedded inside her.

She gasped, her back arching beautifully. But then she gripped him. A long, low squeeze that started at his base and rolled up to the tip. Tight and hard and where had she learned to do that? He made a sound that might have been a growl, and she chuckled right before she did it again.

That was it. His brain fuzzed completely out and there was no stopping him. He grabbed hold of her hips and began to pump. He meant to pay more attention to her pleasure—God
knows, he meant a lot of things—but he had no control. Not when she kept squeezing him like that.

And then, sweet heaven, she tumbled over the edge. She arched and cried out. Her grip became impossibly tight before she began to milk him in a strong pull. He slammed into her one last time, then erupted like never before. Holy cow, he even blacked out for a moment. And the pleasure of that release was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Heaven. Pure heaven!

But it didn't last. It never did. Joy, ecstasy, even that sweet moment of unconsciousness faded away almost instantly. His mind kicked in, his thought resurfaced, and suddenly he realized he was leaning against the wall of a freight elevator still embedded in a woman he'd just met a half hour ago.

God, what was he thinking?

He took a deep breath, trying to gain some control. But even though his brain had kicked back in, his body still needed time to recover. It took a few more breaths before he could lean forward and help Amber stand. She was rather boneless, even in this position, but she moved easily enough. And he, sadly, slipped out of her as they adjusted.

“Mmm,” she murmured as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I take it back. You're not gay. And if you are, I don't want to know about it.”

“I'm not gay,” he said with a chuckle. “And I gotta know—does that count as round two or do I get to see you again?” The words were out before his brain could stop him. Did he even want to see her again? Sure, the sex was great, explosive even. But no guy was this lucky. Fabulous, no-strings-attached sex with a woman who looked like her? A woman who could bend over and kiss her own ankles? This was a setup for sure. He just didn't know for what.

She started chewing on her bottom lip. She was uncertain
and feeling awkward. Somehow that reassured him. A setup wouldn't look as sweetly embarrassed as she did.

“I—I, um,” she stammered. “I think that was round two. This, uh, this isn't really who I am anymore,” she said, gesturing to her thigh-highs and stiletto heels.

He shrugged, his suspicions starting to ease. “It's not who I am either, but damn…”

“It was good, wasn't it?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” With repartee like that, he was losing his Mr. Stud status fast. He scrambled to think of something to say that wasn't lame. “Look, we don't have to make it into something big. Just dinner. Very safe. Very casual.”

She didn't answer. She began pulling on her skirt and he abruptly felt stupid standing there with his boxers at his ankles. So they both got busy readjusting themselves until they were facing each other fully dressed, and another awkward silence descended.

“So you're a doctor, huh?” And again, he failed to find anything clever to say.

“Um, yeah. Well, no, not really. I mean, there's an MD behind my name but…” She sighed and shrugged. “It's kinda complicated.”

He gestured to where they were, stranded in a freight elevator. “I've got some time. How about you?”

“Uh, yeah.” She released a laugh. “Okay, personal history—the short version. I used to be this person. I used to be Mandolin Hospital, working toward management, fancy doctor with all the trimmings. Except I never made it. I had this desire to learn about stuff Western medicine didn't encompass. In the end…” She shrugged. “I had to choose.”

“And you chose what exactly?”

“Research. The truth is that I have a fundamental need to explore, and the administration had a fundamental need to
make me toe the line. I hit a moment when I just couldn't do it anymore.”

He folded his arms across his chest and studied her face. He didn't see any signs of outright deception, but she damn well wasn't telling the whole story. No one upended their lives like that without something major happening.

“So you came to Chicago to do what? Let me guess, was there a guy involved?”

“Definitely no guy—I'd broken up with my last boyfriend at least a year earlier. And frankly, I've always been too focused on medicine for relationships. No, I came out here to visit Mary.”

When he frowned, not placing the name, she filled in the clues for him.

“She's your plant lady. The one with rheumatoid arthritis. Those muffins are for her,” she said, pointing to the box on the floor.

“Ah. Right. Sorry.” He remembered, he just couldn't put a face to the name.

“Anyway, she was one of my first patients a long time ago. So when I hopped into my car and started driving, I ended up on her doorstep. And then I stayed.”

“Doing what?”

“Besides filling in for her?”

She waited a moment, studying his face for something. In the end, he just raised his hands in surrender. “What am I missing?”

“I'm the fill-in plant lady. You saw me this afternoon after your lunch appointment.” As he continued to stare, her lips curled up in a smile. “I knew you didn't recognize me. Picture me like this…” She lifted her hair into a ponytail. “Now add a shapeless sundress and hemp sandals.”

It took him a moment, but he got there. And he felt his eyes widen in shock. “Oh, my God! That's you? The baggy
plant lady I see sometimes? The one who could be pretty if she just made an effort?” He bit his tongue, then gestured to her clothing. “But then I guess you already know that you're gorgeous when you make the effort.”

She waved off the compliment with a too-casual gesture. “I happen to think I'm beautiful even when I don't make the effort. Beauty comes from within.”

Roger shook his head. “In your case, beauty comes from inside and outside.”

She took the compliment gracefully with a regal nod of her head, but something still didn't sit right. He leaned forward.

“So you've given up medicine all together? Just to water plants?”

She shook her head. “No, no. Like I said, I do research. And before you ask, it's not the kind of research you're thinking of. No laboratory funded by a pharmaceutical grant. No Ph.Ds and definitely no Bunsen burner in sight.”

He nodded like he understood her. Which he didn't. “So what kind of research?”

“New age.”

It took him a moment to process her words. And even then it was another moment beyond that. Meanwhile, she was cringing. Not obviously. Just a little, as if she expected him to start mocking her. He didn't. During his mother's last year, she'd explored crystals and aromatherapy and more. He never saw that it made any difference except to her. It gave her something to focus on before her death, something to explore. In many ways, he believed it gave his mother some peace before the end. In fact, when she'd finally died, he'd thought she was just meditating there for a moment.

“So you're researching the effects of what? Crystals? Acupressure? Qigong?”

She straightened, obviously surprised that he hadn't started
laughing. “I tried those. They haven't produced the results I'm looking for. So I'm looking at other modalities now.”

“Such as?”

“Energy healing. No needles. No herbs or crystals. Just—”

“Prayer.”

She shrugged. “Some people call it that.” She tilted her head. “You sound like you know something about it.”

“My mother spent the last year of her life on alternative healing. I got the tour along with her.”

“And?” she pressed. “You don't seem to be dismissive of it, even though she died.”

He lifted his hands, trying to find a way to express his thoughts. “I didn't expect a cure, and I don't think she did either. And I have my own health issues that are making me think about alternative methods lately.” He had, in fact, spent half his afternoon searching the internet for some sort of blood pressure treatment. Something that a hospital couldn't offer.

Her lips curved in a soft smile. “An open mind. I like that.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You know, I'm beginning to think the universe does work in mysterious ways.” Because right here, right in front of him might be the answer to his prayers. But just in case he was wrong, he tried to think logically about it. He started tallying up facts in his brain.

His blood pressure was out of control. So out of control, he might have to quit his job.

He'd exhausted all the options that modern medicine could offer.

She was a doctor, but was serious about alternative methods and sounded like she took a scientific approach.

He needed to find a cure. Maybe she had the answer.

“So,” he said, feigning casualness, “find any therapies that work?”

She nodded, the most confident movement she'd made during the entire discussion. “I think so, yes.”

“Okay then,” he said, coming to a quick decision. “I'm game. Let's do it.”

She blinked, obviously not following him. He didn't blame her. It's not like he had explained where his brain had taken him.

He smiled. “You're a former doctor doing scientific research into energy healing.”

She nodded.

“Well, I'm a patient who's looking for some nonstandard treatments. For high blood pressure. Really high blood pressure.”

She gaped at him. “What?”

“I want to hire you, Amber. For the magical mystery tour of energy healing. I'll do whatever you want, however you want, so long as I don't have to quit my job to do it.”