KeyParty (8 page)

Petra picked up her water bottle and took a long drink.
Without seeing her eyes, Rachel could tell she was studying her through her
dark sunglasses. “Was I right about you and Ben?”

Rachel sighed. “I really like him, but I don’t know that it
would last even if we didn’t have the job thing hanging over our heads.”

“Do I want to know why you think that?”

Petra, who didn’t have an insecure bone in her body, didn’t
usually tolerate the fits of self-pity that plagued Rachel from time to time.

She shook her head. “Probably not.”

“This isn’t about you not becoming a doctor, is it? Because
I thought you’d gotten over that a long time ago.”

“No.” The answer didn’t require any thought. “I love what I
do.”

“Then what is it?”

Rachel took her sunglasses off and rubbed the bridge of her
nose, then her eyes.

“He’s just so…far above me. Always has been. I’m the
daughter of a former bakery worker turned commune hippie and a high school math
teacher. His parents are doctors. Both of them. His mother,” she sighed
impatiently, “is the most elegant woman I’ve ever met. She was really nice to
me when we met, but I’m sure she thinks her son could do better.”

Petra planted her feet on the rug she’d put under the lounge
chairs so they were knee to knee, reached across the space between the chairs
and took Rachel’s hands.

“I’m going to say this once, so pay attention.” She squeezed
Rachel’s fingers for emphasis. “You got excellent grades in high school because
you didn’t get caught up in bullshit teenage drama the way the rest of the
girls in our class did. You were twenty-one and thought you were in love with
The One before you lost your virginity.

“You wanted to be a doctor not only to help sick people, but
to make sure your parents, who’ve struggled financially off and on their whole
lives at their own hands, were comfortable in retirement. And when that didn’t
work out, you didn’t give up and go get a job that was never going to make you
happy. You turned around and found something else you love instead.”

Rachel could feel herself welling up with emotion. The past
week had been a roller coaster. For that matter, her whole summer had been one
wild ride, starting with getting dumped on her ass by Neal and deciding to move
home. Now her usually cool-headed, rational friend was getting sappy on her.

“And just so you know,” Petra squeezed her fingers tighter
this time, “the next time you talk about my best friend that way, I’m going to
belt you in the mouth.”

Rachel’s lips pressed together. “Belt?” she asked with a
snicker.

“If Busha says it, it’s good enough for me.” Petra smiled.

Tears burning in her eyes, Rachel hugged her.

“Ah, I love it when you talk dirty to me, Pete.”

Petra tightened her grip. “I know you do, baby.”

Rachel checked the display on her phone and groaned.

Why was he calling? He was supposed to be picking her up
right at that moment. She’d been dressed and ready to go for fifteen minutes.
She double- and triple-checked to make sure her bra wasn’t showing under the
armholes of the green, sleeveless wraparound dress she was wearing. She’d
changed her shoes six times, only to wind up going back to the strappy silver
heels she’d picked out in the first place.

Ben had been running hot and cold with her since her second
interview with the wellness center three weeks earlier. She wouldn’t hear from
him for days at a time, then he’d call to make plans, only to reschedule more
often than not—and always with the excuse that Dr. Li called and thought he
should see this disease or be part of that treatment. Then he’d show up
practically unannounced and want to spend two days straight in bed.

She hated to admit it, but she didn’t really mind that part
so much. It wasn’t as though he was quick to finish and then passed out
immediately afterward. He went for food and water when they needed it, and
twice she’d fallen out of bed laughing when one of the many long conversations
they’d had turned ridiculous. And sex with Ben Richards—whether he bent her
over and fucked her from behind, let her tie him up and have her slow,
torturous way with him or took his sweet time driving her out of her mind with
his fingers, his mouth, his tongue—was phenomenal.

Every. Single. Time.

She answered on the third ring. “Let me guess, Dr. Li
called.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

“If I didn’t deserve that, I’d be offended.”

“Well, thank heavens you’re not.” She made sure the smile
was loud and clear in her voice, even if she didn’t completely mean it.

“Since you asked
oh
so politely I’ll tell you.
There’s no place to park on your street, so my hands are tied on the being a
gentleman and ringing the doorbell thing. I need you to come out.” Almost as an
afterthought he added, “Please.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. He was there, not
calling to cancel again.

“I suppose I can excuse it this one time,” she told him. “Be
out in a minute.”

Rachel grabbed her wrap off the foot of the bed and wound it
around her shoulders.

Let’s get dressed to the teeth and go out tonight
,
he’d told her earlier that morning.

After nothing but those on-again, off-again marathon
sessions in bed, his timing couldn’t have been better. She’d been starting to
wonder if she was nothing more than a booty call—long talks and breakfast in
bed aside.

Let’s go someplace so nice we leave drunk and starving
because the food portions are really small and the wine really good
, he’d
said, his forehead touching hers, his timing uncanny. She’d just chickened out
of showing him her vulnerable side by asking him exactly why he kept coming
around when he’d asked.

He was right. The entire street was packed with cars parked
bumper to bumper. It was eight o’clock on a Wednesday night. Of course all of
her neighbors would be home.

He’d stopped his car on the street so the passenger door was
positioned between the trunk of one car and the front bumper of another parked
at the curb. He stood in the space between them, dressed to the teeth indeed.

Rachel made it down two of the five steps on the front stoop
and had to stop or trip down the rest when she got her first good look at him.
Her only thought for a long moment was,
Holy Mother of God
.

Dressed in all black—his jacket finely tailored to showcase
his broad shoulders and narrow waist, shirt unbuttoned two buttons at the
collar and dress pants pulled flat across his taut lower abdomen—he looked
positively dangerous. Lethal even.

“Wow,” she heard him breathe as she descended the rest of
the steps slowly, his eyes taking her in from top to bottom and back. “Rachel,
Rachel, Rachel.”

Goose bumps rose on her arms at the almost reverent way he
said her name.

“I almost forgot I was peeved with you for the way you
answered your phone a minute ago.” His hands slipped around her waist when she
joined him by his car.

“I thought for sure you were backing out on me again.” She
held a finger to his lips when he leaned in for a kiss. “You should know red
does not come off. If you kiss me now you’ll be wearing it all night.”

She shivered at the hungry look he gave her.

“It would be worth it,” he said, his voice low, seductive.

She grinned. “But you won’t.”

“Not your mouth anyway.”

She spread her hands over his chest and slid her fingers
under the lapels of his jacket as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to
her neck in lieu of a proper kiss. The fabric of his shirt felt almost as good
under her hands as she knew his skin would later.

He lifted his head, leaving her wanting so much more than
that one touch.

“You look amazing,” he told her.

“You look pretty damn good yourself,” she whispered back.

She would have melted into him when he showed the other side
of her neck the same attention but his hands on her waist held her away from
him.

“We should probably get in the car and go before we make a
spectacle of ourselves right here on the street,” he murmured, his breath hot
on her skin as he outlined the shell of her ear with his nose, making her
chandelier earring sway and goose bumps break out over her arms. “The sooner we
eat, the sooner we can go home.”

“Do you know,” she started, struggling to sound as if she
was in control of herself, “that it’s been forever since I’ve been to a blues
club?”

He lifted his head slowly. “You’re going to make me wait
through dinner
and
music to get you out of this dress?”

She smiled sweetly. “I hear Angelina Pope is singing at Blue
Chicago tonight.”

“Okay, you win.” He stepped aside and opened the passenger
car door. “But only because it’s Angelina Pope.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt she’s gorgeous,” she said,
stepping into the wedge made by the open door.

Angelina Pope was Spanish, drop-dead beautiful with a killer
curvy body and a smoky voice that made the fine hairs raise all over Rachel’s
body when she sang.

“I wouldn’t have any idea,” he told her, his face carefully
blank. “I’ve never noticed anything but her voice.”

Rachel touched her lips to his in the barest whisper of a
kiss, careful to not leave her lipstick behind, and slid into the car.

He took her to The Signature Room on the ninety-fifth floor
of the Hancock Building, where they sat at a window-side table overlooking the
Chicago skyline. After ordering a bottle of wine, bowls of lobster bisque and
seared Scottish salmon for both of them, she was sure they were not going to
leave hungry at the end of the meal.

“Did you know my stepfather had never been in a long-term
relationship before he met my mother?” he asked after their server poured their
wine and walked away.

Rachel tore her gaze away from the breathtaking view.

“There’s a reason you’re telling me this, out of the blue?”

“You’ve told me about your parents.” He sipped his wine.
“And I woke up a week ago to find Bree trying to figure out the coffeemaker in
my kitchen. She repaid me the favor of making her a pot by giving me the third
degree about why I was opposed to having a girlfriend. I figured, by
association, you were curious as well.”

She felt herself blush despite being guilty of nothing.

“I’ve never talked to her about this.” She couldn’t help but
laugh at how ludicrous it was that Bree had brought it up. “Apparently she got
the idea that you’re a confirmed bachelor from some offhanded remark Petra made
to her once.”

To her relief he laughed with her. “Well, that explains a
couple of really confusing things she said.” He folded his hands on the table,
his expression still warm, amused. “My mother and I lived with my grandparents
from the time I was born until I was eight or so. My grandmother was a
housewife, so she was there to get me off the bus after school and put me to
bed while my mother worked a waitressing job and took a college class here and
there. She could have afforded a place of our own, but she was determined to
put money aside so I could go to college and never have to wait a table or work
hard labor if I didn’t want to.

“My grandfather had a minor heart attack when I was in third
grade. My dad, Tracy, was his doctor. He says he fell hard for my mother the
instant he laid eyes on her. Ask him and he’ll tell you he knew that moment
that he hadn’t made a mistake by putting his education and career before having
a girlfriend. He married her within six months, became a father to me even
though he’d never thought of having children of his own, and put her the rest
of the way through medical school.”

She could see the pride he felt about his parents. “And your
biological father?”

“Lied to my mother, told her he was single so she would
sleep with him when he was actually married with a family.” His expression
darkened slightly. “When she told him she was pregnant he turned his back on
both of us. She’s never told me his name, only that she’d tell me who he was
when I turned eighteen if I was still interested in knowing. I was never interested.”

She felt a sharp pang for him. No matter how grounded he
appeared to be outwardly, being rejected by his own father, even a father he
never knew, had to hurt on some level.

“Maybe we could skip the blues club tonight,” she suggested.

As much as she’d wanted to get out and get some perspective
on how she felt about him, without the way he consumed her completely when they
were behind closed doors, she wanted to put her arms around him and convince
him to take her home and back to bed even more.

“Oh no.” He smiled at their server, waiting to continue
while he set their salads in front of them. “You said you wanted music, you’re
getting music.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “And Angelina Pope just might help
put me in the mood for later.”

She gave him a droll look. “As though you need any help.”

* * * * *

There was no urgent groping when they got back to his
apartment in the wee hours of the night, both of them a little tipsy but
nowhere near drunk on good food, good music and what she’d just learned was
really good scotch.

He’d knelt inside the door and helped her with the straps on
her shoes, kicked his off next to them as he slipped out of his jacket and led
her to his room by the hand.

When he closed the door with a soft click and reached for
his shirt buttons she took his hands, stopping him. “Let me.”

He paused a single heartbeat, then gently twisted his hands
free and trailed his fingertips down her forearms. At her elbows he turned his
hands, running the backs of his fingers up her arms. Her own fingers began to
tremble with anticipation as she worked the buttons free. She pulled his
shirttails free and he dropped his arms to make it easy for her to remove his
shirt. God help her, he was wearing a plain undershirt that hugged that
incredible chest of his like a second skin.

“Your body makes me crazy.” Her voice was quiet, strange to
her own ears.

His stomach tensed when she slipped her fingers under the
hem of the t-shirt and pressed her hands flat against it.

“You.” She looked up at him, into his dark-gray eyes. “You
make me crazy.”

She took her time pushing his shirt upward, relishing the
feel of his soft body hair and his skin. He said nothing, just watched her,
waiting, his arms still at his sides as he let her do what she was doing. Her
nails grazed over his nipples as she pushed upward and she smiled at the muscle
that ticked in his jaw.

He raised his arms and to help her get the undershirt over
his head more easily. Not one to usually let her have her way—she suspected it
was more for the sake of pushing her buttons than always needing to be in
control—she half expected him to take charge. He surprised her by lowering his
arms to his sides again.

In her bare feet she had to raise up on her toes just a
little to kiss his neck, right over the spot where his pulse hammered hard near
his throat. She kissed him in the same spot on the other side the way he had
with her earlier in the street, her hands traveling over and down his chest as
she did. She brushed her lips over his collarbone on that side, dipped her head
and kissed his nipple. He sucked in a sharp breath, then groaned when she
touched it with the tip of her tongue.

She toyed with it, spurred on by the way his breath
quickened, unbuckled his belt and tugged the button of his pants open roughly.
When she slid the zipper down and pushed the fabric just low enough to almost
expose him, he broke his control, buried his hands in her hair and crushed her
mouth in a kiss.

She let herself drown in it for a moment, clinging to his
half-naked body, her hands alternately clutching and stroking his back, his
hips, his ass where it was partially bared to her touch. He sank his teeth into
her bottom lip and growled when she gripped his hips and ground herself against
his incredibly hard erection.

And when she grabbed his wrists and tugged gently, he
released.

She took a reluctant step backward, then another, leaving
him breathing hard and looking like a wild animal standing in the middle of his
bedroom. She slipped her belt open and dropped it, unwrapped her dress and let
it drift to the floor, backing toward the bed slowly as she did.

He groaned her name and tucked his thumbs into the waist of
both his pants and his underwear. She reached behind her back and unhooked the
clasp of her bra, then tossed it aside. He shoved his way out of the rest of
his clothes and started toward her slowly. She stopped moving when the edge of
the bed touched her calves, pushed her underpants to her knees and then sat to
remove them the rest of the way.