Owning Corey

OWNING COREY

A

Novel

MARIS BLACK

This novel was written for the people I love.

You know who you are.

You make me good.

1

(BEN)

FUCKING hospital Christmas parties. I hate them with a passion. From my lonely spot in the hallway, I’ve got a good view through the open double doors and into the crowded cafeteria, where everyone is stuffing finger foods into their faces and talking about God only knows what.

Don’t they get enough talk time spending twelve hours a day with each other?

My head is starting to feel light as I down my third cup of sour pink punch. One of the nurses brought it in a spouted 10-gallon cooler, and we’re tearing it up, though certainly not for the taste. It’s helping me tolerate the obnoxious lights and tinsel, and all the chintzy red and green decorations the day shift taped up this afternoon. Fortunately for me, doctors don’t have to pull decorating duty. One of the perks of the job.

In fact, this is a Tuesday night and I should be working, but I got someone to cover for me so I could bring Christina to this miserable event. Now she’s all the way on the far side of the room, tossing her white-blond hair and getting way too friendly with that new asshole EMT who’s training on day shift.

Look at him. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women.

There’s a rumor going around that they’re going to stick him on night shift with me. Not something I’m looking forward to at all. The thought of having to see him every night churns my guts, because at the moment my girlfriend has got her perfectly manicured hands all over his biceps, and she’s giving him that cute little smile she gives me when she wants my cock.

I lean back against the wall, cross my arms across my chest and try to imagine what I’m going to do about it. We haven’t been dating that long, so I don’t have a whole lot invested. Kicking her to the curb immediately seems the right move to save myself the future headache. I can put up with a lot, but that kind of blatant flirting is not something I’m willing to tolerate.

“Hi, Dr. Hardy.” One of the floor nurses approaches me cautiously, like I’m some sort of cornered wild animal and she’s afraid I’ll bite. I can’t blame her for being wary. With my slim, Hollywood tailored charcoal suit and what I imagine is the flintiest stare in the room, I’m even less approachable than usual, and that’s saying a lot. Not to mention I’m her superior.

The girl pauses in front of me, teetering on her functional black pumps, and I think she’s going to chat me up. In my mind I’m cheering her on, though I do nothing to make it easier for her. If she succeeds, maybe I’ll take her home tonight, since it looks like a good possibility I’ll be dateless soon.

But she doesn’t succeed. Instead, she veers silently off toward the restrooms, and I can see the defeat in her eyes.

As soon as she’s out of sight, Dr. Hannigan sidles up to me with a drink in each hand. I wonder if he expects people to assume he’s holding one of them for someone else, or if he just doesn’t care if he’s seen double-fisting alcoholic beverages.

“She’s cute,” he says.

I look toward the restroom the nurse has just disappeared into and shrug. “I guess so.”

Hannigan laughs his pretentious boom of a laugh and barely avoids sloshing punch on me as he and nudges my shoulder with a freckled hand. “I meant
her
.” He gestures toward Christina. “Aren’t you two dating now?”

“Yeah. Right now I’m wishing I hadn’t let her drag me out here. I’d rather be working.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.” He attempts a soulful expression that doesn’t quite hit the mark. “I almost don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not on duty. You and I are both married to the job, Ben. Men like us are built to lead rather than follow, but that comes at a hefty price, doesn’t it?”

He raises his cup toward Christina and her handsome companion, as if he’s taunting me.

“I don’t mind it so much,” I lie smoothly. “What I do mind is a dull party. I’m thinking I need to go home and pull out the good cognac I have stashed away in my office drawer. I don’t drink often, but now that I’ve gotten started, might as well finish it off right, you know?”

“Absolutely. I do love a good cognac now and then.” His dull eyes sparkle for a beat, and I realize he’s angling for an invitation. I’ve also heard he’s angling for my job, but the bastard had better not hold his breath waiting for either one.

“Would you please excuse me?” I mumble. When I don’t make a move to go anywhere, Hannigan shuffles awkwardly away.

I’ve had just about all I can stand of this party, and I’m just about to march over and drag Christina out of here when she turns and looks straight at me with that same cock-licking smile on her face. Dammit, I can’t help it having an effect on me. I’m definitely going to break up with her, but I’m considering postponing it until tomorrow. The liquor has got me worked up in more ways than one, and since I don’t know how long it will be before I get laid again, I’m thinking about grabbing one for the road.

Besides, Christina is looking especially tasty tonight. The contrast of siren red lipstick against her translucent skin creates the most startling impression of a juicy apple, and I’m thinking I want to get out of here and take a bite.

But then
he
looks at me, too, all dark and dangerous with blazing blue eyes, lightly tanned skin and wavy black hair that curls slightly around his collar. He commands the room effortlessly, drawing attention and energy like he’s some brilliant electrical thing, and everyone and everything else in the room is dust. His apparent obliviousness to his own magnetism makes him all the more despicable.

Italian designers would fall all over themselves to get this guy in their blue jean and cologne ads. With his deadly mix of confidence, rebellious sophistication and fuck-all attitude, it only takes one look at him to know that hearts— and panties— are about to be dropping all over our little town.

Hell, he’s so good-looking, he’s got me thinking how nice he and Christina look together, and she’s
my
girlfriend.

The two of them come straight toward me, parting the crowd like the red sea as nurses swoon in his wake. I’d love to sneer at his inappropriate attire, which consists of a black t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and biker boots, but the truth is he looks fantastic. He could probably get away with meeting the queen of England in camouflage shorts and flip-flops.

In contrast, I feel like a bit of a dandy in my trendy tailored suit. At least my hair is its usual rakish mess on top, but I run my fingers lightly through it just to make sure. I shift my body into a subtle slouch so as not to seem too formal, but I’m finding it difficult to figure out what to do with my hands.

Why am I so self-conscious? I’m the freaking Chief of Staff, and he’s a nobody.

“Ben,” Christina purrs to me through those red lips, curling her slender white fingers into the crook of my arm. “This is the new EMT, Corey Butler.” The way she says his name makes me want to punch one of them in the mouth, and I don’t even care which. “Have you two met?”

“No,” I say.

At the same time he smiles and says, “Yes, we’ve met.”

I shrug. “I don’t remember it, sorry.”

Corey’s smile turns to a faltering laugh, and he shoves his hands nervously into the pockets of his jeans.

Score one for the home team. He’s obviously not used to being forgotten.

“We met on my first day, Dr. Hardy. Remember? You were still here late that morning catching up on your charting when they gave me a tour of the hospital.”

“Yeah, okay.” I nod, irritated that he’s trying to force me to remember him. Because of course I do. I just don’t want to admit it.

“You looked awful that morning.” He winces, realizing he’s just insulted me. “Uh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I only meant that you’d had a rough night… two codes, a seizure, and a couple of bad COPD exacerbations. But you were still here charting away when most people would have said
screw it
and gone home already. I really admire that.”

Hmmm, getting better.

He may be trying to snake my woman, but at least he’s stroking my ego. Against my will, I start to like him just a little bit. One curse of being a doctor is that we need our professional egos stroked…
a lot
.

“Wow, you remember my day better than I do.” I finish off the last of my warm punch and toss the cup toward the trash can inside the cafeteria doors. When it bounces off the rim, Corey scrambles to retrieve it and drops it into the bin for me. “You give me too much credit, though. In this business, we all live by the same code, or at least we’re supposed to. Would you have said
screw it
?”

“Hell, no. I’m new, but I take my job very seriously. I would have been right there beside you, charting with my eyes half closed.” He laughs. “Doing a good job is almost like a compulsion with me.”

“Ben is compulsive, too,” Christina says brightly, squeezing my shoulder. “The man is a total workaholic. It’s almost impossible to get any private time with him. You know, big important doctor, always in demand.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he is,” Corey says. “I’m finding it hard to adjust to twelve-hour shifts and being on call for the ambulance, so I can’t even imagine what it must be like for a doctor. I’m surprised you get any rest at all, Dr. Hardy.”

I open my mouth to answer, but Christina pipes up first and cuts me off. “He’s very dedicated. Did you know he’s the youngest Chief of Staff they’ve ever had in the history of the hospital?”

Why do I feel like she’s trying to sell me to this guy? I hate to tell her this, but from the look on his face, he’s already starstruck. It’s so funny how people automatically bow down to doctors, even though most of them don’t freaking deserve it. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it, even just a little bit.

“I’m about to be finding out first hand just how dedicated he is,” Corey says with a conspiratorial wink in my direction. “They’re turning me loose to work on my own. I start night shift tomorrow, Monday through Thursday, same as you, Dr. Hardy.”

Rumor confirmed. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Christina gasps. “Already? Boy, that was quick. People usually have to train at least a few weeks. I can’t believe they’re letting you go on your own after only one week. You must be
good
.”

The way she says
good
sounds like she’s talking about something other than work.

“I
am
good,” he says. “Damn good.”

It’s obvious that he’s joking, but I can tell by the glint in her eye that she’s not. Jesus, why doesn’t she just fuck him right here and get it over with?

I’ve got to hand it to the man, though. He hasn’t glanced at her tits once, and that has got to take a will of steel. They are perfectly displayed in her sparkling silver mini-dress, and the lacy edges of her red bra peek out of the low cut neckline when she moves just right. It’s giving me wood, so I don’t know how he can resist at least a glance. She’s wearing those red high heels that she knows make me nuts, and suddenly all I can think about is stripping her down to nothing but those shoes and fucking her against a wall.

Maybe the bathroom is empty now…