Private Practice (4 page)

Chapter Four

Ellie tugged the last stitch free and ran the pad of her thumb down the slightly raised seam of the healing wound. Even under the bright, florescent exam room light, she could barely see where the stitches had been. “This is healing beautifully. You’ll only have a faint scar.” She resisted a completely unprofessional urge to run her hand over his entire butt. There was absolutely no medically valid reason for a tactile exam of his glutes.

“That’s a big relief, Doc,” Tyler drawled. “I’m real vain about that cheek.”

She rolled her stool back a couple feet to signal she was done. “Well then, you might try keeping it out of Junior’s line of fire.”

“That’s my plan.” He buttoned his jeans, then turned to face her and leaned back against the exam table. “Thanks for fitting me in so late in the day.”

“No problem.” Goodness, he was tall. True, at five-three, almost everybody topped her, but Tyler towered over her. Plus, he had those wide shoulders, and…was it her imagination, or did the exam room suddenly seem claustrophobically tiny? She stood and backed to the other side, where his chart lay on the top of a stainless steel cabinet. “I know you wanted to keep this little incident on the down-low, so having you come by after Melody left for the day struck me as a good idea.”

“That was nice of you, hiring Melody. I’m sure she can use the change of scenery about now.”

“Actually, she’s the nice one. I’m getting an organized, detail-oriented office manager for a fraction of what an established practice would pay her. I’m, like, her charity project.”

“Okay, see how you turned my praise around and aimed it at Melody? That’s nice. Add it to kindly digging a bullet out of my ass at two in the morning and not calling the cops on Junior. I don’t know”—he aimed his sexy smile at her—“you may have to face the fact that you’re a nice person.”

“We came to an arrangement on the not calling the cops thing.”

“Gonna hold me to that, are you?”

She couldn’t guess whether he was teasing her or looking to back out. Defeated by his inscrutability, she exhaled and admitted, “No. I’m not. What I said Friday night still stands. If you’re not into this, let’s forget the whole deal.”

The sexy smile shifted into the bad-boy grin she remembered from years ago. “Oh, I’m into it. Don’t you worry.”

She scribbled a note in his chart and told her pulse to stop fluttering. Before she could respond, his expression sobered. “I am grateful to you, though. Thank you for taking care of me and being discreet. Junior also sends his thanks and apologies. He wanted me to tell you he gave his gun to his granddad. Figured he didn’t need to be driving around with a firearm handy.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad Junior got rid of the gun.”

“Me, too. So”—he inclined his head toward the chart—“am I cleared for class?”

Restless butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She glanced at him from under her lashes. “Yes.”

Two Longfoot strides brought them toe to toe. He simply stared at her for a moment, then raised his hand and swept her hair behind her shoulder. “All right, then. A deal’s a deal. Lesson one, Friday at seven. I’ll come to you.”

She swallowed, nearly choking on her own spit when his strong, capable fingers unerringly found the tight muscles at the base of her neck and began kneading. Reminding herself this was her idea, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll figure out the lesson plan.”

“You do that, Doc. In the meantime…pop quiz.”

“Huh—” That’s as far as she got before Tyler’s mouth settled on hers. Such a small contact, but once again, it generated instant, addictive heat. She gasped when his tongue traced the sensitive curve of her upper lip. The move melted her bones. She leaned into his strong, warm body for support. His hands cruised up her back, and the calm, logical voice deep inside her mind clicked off.
“Yes!”
flashed behind her eyelids in big, neon letters.

With no oversight whatsoever from her brain, her hands dove into his hair and held on, held his amazing, devastating mouth still on hers. A low, needy cry echoed from somewhere in the tile-and-steel exam room. Belatedly, she realized the inarticulate plea emanated from her.

Apparently Tyler understood, because he cupped the back of her head in his big hand and sent his tongue on a deluxe tour of her mouth. Each touch, slide, or deep, penetrating exploration shot staggering sensations to every pulse point in her body. Those unsuspecting destinations sat up and took notice. Her nipples contracted and her bra suddenly felt way too small for her nowhere-close-to-double-D breasts. Tension coiled low in her abdomen. She fought the urge to rub her thighs together to relieve the pressure building there.

Somehow, miraculously, he knew about the pressure. He slid one big, muscular thigh between hers, grabbed her backside, and hauled her against him. She practically whimpered with gratitude.

“Hey, Ellie, have you seen my…whoops!” Melody’s voice reverberated in the silence.

Ellie broke away, shaken to the core by the unexpected interruption and her reaction to his kiss. No kisses had swept her away like Tyler’s. Ever. Had he felt the same intense…heck, she didn’t know what to call it…jolt of awareness, sensory recognition, bone-deep
need
?

Hard to say. His expression revealed only lazy amusement as he loosened his hold and let her slide slowly down his body, releasing her a few beats after her feet met the floor. Something mischievous flickered in his eyes and she immediately marched herself into a mental cold shower.

“I’m so sorry,” Melody said, sounding more intrigued than apologetic. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“No problem, Mel,” Tyler replied, completely unfazed. “I was just heading out. See you Friday, Ellie.” With a final, unnervingly knowing look, he walked out of the exam room.

Melody managed to hold her tongue until the main door closed, but not a second more. “Why, Sparky Swann!”

“What?” Ellie smoothed her hair and tried to act unruffled, but damp panties and perky nipples didn’t do much for her acting abilities. Her body reacted to his skill—nothing more. Researchers could probably explain how the combination of thick black hair, riveting green eyes, and a slow, confident smile provoked some cascade of estrogen designed to fool the female mind into confusing a simple kiss with a merging of souls.

“What do you mean,
what
? You’re not back in Bluelick a month and I find you making out after hours with big, bad Tyler Longfoot.” She folded her arms across her chest. “How long has this been going on?”

“Is it hot in here?” Ellie fiddled with the neckline of her blue-and-white-striped top, and then, still stalling, brushed her palms over her white linen pants. “There’s nothing going on. It’s not what you think. He’s just…” Lord, how was she supposed to explain this? “He’s assisting me with a personal project.”

Melody grinned. “Uh-huh, right. You couldn’t find your tonsils so he stopped by to help you look for them. Search to be continued this Friday. If you want my advice, you should have him hunt for something really important, like your G-spot.”

“Ha ha.” Melody’s teasing struck a little too close to home. “Somehow, during all the years we spent as classmates, I never noticed your smart mouth before.”

“You were blinded by my good looks. But don’t worry, Ellie.” Melody’s playful smile straightened. “I know how to keep things to myself. As far as I’m concerned, people’s personal lives are theirs to advertise or keep in confidence as they see fit. Nobody’s going to hear a word about you and Tyler from me.”

Determined to downplay the episode, Ellie scooted past Melody. “That’s a relief, considering there’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh, now, I don’t know about that. What I saw just saw between you and Tyler looked like a whole lot more than
nothing
.”

Chapter Five

Ellie looked around her bedroom and mentally reviewed her checklist. Clean sheets? Check. Condoms? Check. Five chapters carefully flagged in her fully illustrated copy of
The Wild Woman’s Guide to Sex: Tactics Guaranteed to Bring a Man to His Knees
?
Check. Having studied the guide immediately upon its arrival—via rush delivery, in all its plain, brown-wrapped glory—she’d already employed one of the tactics. She turned to view her reflection in the oval mirror atop her antique oak dresser, slipped out of her robe, and took a detached inventory of the woman staring back at her, dressed for “action.”

A black satin-and-lace bra boosted her normally unremarkable cleavage to almost opulent proportions. The imported lace teased her nipples to points with every subtle shift of fabric. It was, quite possibly, the most uncomfortable garment she’d ever worn. No, wait…her gaze dropped. That honor belonged to the matching thong.

Hands on hips, she pivoted to check the rear view. The line of satin dividing her derriere looked to be in the proper place, and there was really only one reasonable path for it to take, but it felt like a wedgie waiting to happen.

Pivoting again, she faced the mirror. The guide advised aspiring wild women to make their peace with the push-up bra and butt floss because…ta-da…the combination brought men to their knees.

She shrugged on her robe and tied the belt. She didn’t care about all men, just Roger. He was definitely worth the discomfort. Besides, she didn’t have the natural advantages of a Melody Merritt or a Lou Ann Doubletree. She needed all the help she could get.

Thankfully, a big dose of “help” was due any moment in the form of Tyler Longfoot. The sound of a motorcycle approaching confirmed the thought, and caused a winged migration from her chest to her stomach. She grabbed a tube of gloss from the dresser and retouched her lips with an unsteady hand.

Why so nervous?
Was she afraid he’d laugh at her attempt to be sexy? Maybe…okay, yes. Silly, because while she really didn’t know him very well, she knew he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her feelings. The real worry was that they’d get into what she’d selected as the first lesson and he’d deem her a hopeless case.

Unlikely, she reassured herself, because she’d studied chapter 3 diligently. The guide claimed most men loved chapter 3 anytime, anywhere, with any degree of proficiency, so it made a fairly foolproof starting point. Hopefully. Maybe it was too conventional? Should she have started with chapter 13?

The chime of her doorbell ended her second-guessing. She rushed to the door, pulled it open, and stopped short. For whatever reason, she’d assumed he’d come directly from his job site, and had pictured him in work boots and dusty jeans. Instead he stood before her freshly showered and smooth-jawed, with a devilish gleam in his clear, green eyes. The clean, spicy scent of his aftershave enticed her almost as much as the rest of him.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Right on time. That’s helpful, because we have a lot to cover this evening.” Since she couldn’t seem to stop babbling, she gestured him in. “We should probably get started. My bedroom’s this way.” She laughed a little hysterically. “Of course you don’t need me to tell you. You already know the layout.”

“Whoa. Slow down, there, Sparky.” He snagged her arm and, with a tug, brought her swinging around until her chest bumped his.

Her heart thudded against her ribs. She took a step back and tried to figure out what she’d rushed. “I’m sorry. Did you want to…” What? What did guys like to do before getting it on? “Freshen up, or, was there something else you needed?”

His slow smile tightened her stomach. “Maybe I need a little wine and candlelight first, hmm?” Fingers toyed with the ends of her hair. “I’m not a windup toy, you know.”

He was teasing her, she felt certain, but still, she could be a good hostess. “Um, I have some chardonnay in the fridge, if you’d like a glass. Could we put the candlelight off until next week? I need to see what I’m doing for this first lesson—”

His laugh cut her off, deep and rich and completely without taunt, but her hackles rose anyway. Here she was, organized, prepared, ready to get to work, and he was messing around.

“I actually wasn’t making a joke.”

Her outburst bounced off him. He trailed his fingers down her arm as if he enjoyed the feel of her skin. “I’m sure you weren’t. Look, Doc, I worked a long day, came home, showered, and got myself over here. I need sustenance.”

Sustenance? “You’re hungry?”

“Aren’t you?”

She opened her mouth to say no, but her stomach rumbled.

His smile deepened. “C’mon, Ellie, get dressed. It’s a pretty evening. Let’s take a ride over to the river and grab some dinner. There’s nothing wild about one of us passing out from hunger.”

“B-but I’m already prepared here. I’ve got fancy underwear on and everything.”

He cocked one dark eyebrow. “That so?” Big hands took her shoulders and turned her around. His mouth moved next to her ear. “I can’t wait to hear all about them over dinner. Go throw on a little dress and a jacket. I’ll wait in the front room.” One hand slid down her back, over her butt, and squeezed.

“Tyler— ”

“Hurry.” He gave her backside a playful swat and nudged her toward her bedroom.

…

When Ellie strode into her front room, Tyler rose from her dainty blue sofa and all the blood in his head flowed due south at record speed.

The deep purple dress she’d changed into hugged her tightly on top and dipped low enough in front to give him a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage. The short, fluttery skirt showed off a lot of leg—slim, silky legs he instantly pictured wrapped around his waist while the pointed heels on her mile-high sandals dug into his ass like spurs.

“Nice,” he managed to say, and helped her into her thin black cardigan.

“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little out of breath. “I’m ready.”

“After you.”

The high-heeled sandals forced her to take her time, so he occupied himself checking out her legs while she preceded him down the porch steps. When she walked toward her garage he caught her arm.

“I’ll drive.”

She eyed his bike, then him. “You’re joking, right?”

“What’s the matter, Doc? Scared to ride with me?”

Her expression said,
Hell yes
. “I did an ER rotation during my residency. I saw a lot of rides that didn’t turn out as planned.”

“Past time you learned how a ride should go. Ours will be short and easy. You’ll love it. Trust me.” Not wanting to give her an opening to argue, he turned and straddled the big machine. Then he looked back and handed her the helmet. She hesitated.

“Come on, Doc. You’re the one who wants to be more adventurous between the sheets. Step one—be more adventurous out of them. If you can’t handle a sunset ride down a country road on a warm June night”—he shrugged—“might as well call Magnolia Grove and see if they’ve got a villa for you.”

“Magnolia Grove?”

“It’s a retirement community about halfway between here and Lexington. Very safe and peaceful, although I hear they’ve got extreme bingo if you think you can handle it.”

His taunt did the trick. She shoved the helmet over her head and stared him down. “How do I get on this blasted thing?”

It took three tries, and he got a very nice sneak peek at her new underwear in the process, but finally she sat behind him, her slim thighs around his hips, her front pressed against his back. The slope of the seat didn’t allow for any other position. Instant intimacy.

“You’re going to want to hold on.” He took her hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, biting back a smile when she laced her fingers together in a white-knuckled grip. “Ready?”

“Um, okay,” came her reluctant reply.

Good enough. He brought his right foot down hard on the kick-start lever and cranked the accelerator. The machine revved to life, but not quite in time to drown out her squeal. She clung to him as they rocketed down her driveway.

…

The purr of the engine obliterated any other noise she might have made, but it couldn’t hide the way her arms tightened to a death grip and her fingernails dug into his stomach. As a rule, he liked having a date pressed up against him so close a sheet of paper couldn’t squeeze between them, and so distracted by what he was doing to her that she put a few scratches on him. But he preferred to inspire that kind of mindless urgency during a slightly different activity. He settled a hand over hers and gave a squeeze. It seemed to help, a little.

Not that he didn’t get the reason for her anxiety. He did. Neither of them had been raised to trust easily, and hurtling down the open road with nothing but his skill standing between her and an up-close, personal encounter with the asphalt required a fair amount of trust. That understanding made it all the sweeter when, after a mile or so, her grip loosened infinitesimally and her body relaxed against his. Some natural instinct kicked in and she started to flow with the movement of the bike, and him. Tension he’d barely registered drained out of his neck and shoulders. Better. Much better. Now they could both sit back and enjoy the ride—the warm wind, the smell of honeysuckle in the air, the sinking sun bathing everything in orange and gold.

Those relatively innocent pleasures weren’t the only ones to enjoy. Every time he leaned into one of the meandering turns, she leaned into him. Her arms tightened around his waist and the hard, hot points of her nipples drilled into his back. The way she squirmed and clenched her thighs when he accelerated told him she felt the vibrations of the bike’s powerful engine in all the right places.

By the time the tin roof and weathered planks of The Catch came into view, she’d melted against him like a cheddar square on a hot slice of pie. He pulled into the restaurant’s busy parking lot, cut the engine, and heard her small, breathy sigh. Oh yeah, she liked the ride.

Bracing the bike with one leg, he slid his hand along her thigh. “You good with this, Doc?”

She pulled the helmet off. In his side mirror, he watched her give him a long, wary look, as if she might not be so sure about their bargain. He found himself holding his breath.

Then she nodded. “Absolutely, I’m good with this.” Chin raised, she smiled at him.

“Great. Better grab on.”

“Wha— ?” The word ended in a high note as he hefted the bike onto its kickstand. Her hands clutched his shoulders.

He waited while she got off the bike. As far as he could judge from his limited perspective, her underwear didn’t make an encore appearance during her dismount, but letting her use his body like a ladder to climb down stirred up his imagination almost as well. She wobbled a little when she stepped back to give him room. He pushed off the bike, closed the distance, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” she said, sounding a bit startled by the admission. More pleased than he expected to be by one little word, he steered her along the short pier to the restaurant’s entrance.

He opened the door for her and followed her through, accidentally bumping into her when she stopped abruptly. He caught her arms to steady her when the impact knocked her off-balance, and then, for no reason except she smelled incredible and felt so damn good, he turned her to face him and very slowly, very deliberately pulled her in close until his chest brushed her breasts. She looked up at him with an expression somewhere between flustered and exasperated. He flashed his best innocent smile, not missing the pulse pounding away at the base of her throat.
Ride’s not over yet, Sparky
.

“Hungry?”

“Yes.” The word came out like a confession and he suspected she wasn’t referring to food. “But this place is pretty crowded. We might have a long wait.”

“They’ll have a table for us.” Taking her hand, he led her through the press of bodies.

Diane, the manager, spotted him before they made it to the hostess desk and wrapped him in a big hug. “Hey, sugar! I didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She eased back, slid a curious glance toward Ellie, and raised a brow at him. “Table for two?”

“Can you squeeze us in?”

She laughed and smoothed a hand over her strawberry-blond hair. “Oh, sugar, I can always squeeze
you
in. And your friend.”

“Ellie,” he added, sliding his arm around her. “Ellie, Diane.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie said.

“Always nice to meet one of Tyler’s friends,” Diane returned. “We just love him around here. C’mon.” Taking a couple menus from the hostess station, she led them to a quiet corner table on the outdoor dining deck floating above the Ohio River.

Once they were seated, Diane wished them a “memorable” evening, winked at Ellie and departed. The steady slap of water against the deck pilings filled the silence.

“She seems nice,” Ellie finally said, absently pushing the small votive candle around on the white linen tablecloth. The low light on the deck turned her brown eyes into deep pools he could get lost in.

“Diane? She is nice. I’ve known her a long time.” He could spend some serious time on Ellie’s mouth, too.

“Is ‘known her a long time’ a euphemism for ‘dated her’?” The question startled him out of his distraction with Ellie’s lips. Before he could answer, she winced. “Sorry, erase the question. Who you’ve dated is none of my business. New topic—”

“She’s a friend. I got to know her when I remodeled the first restaurant she managed.” He couldn’t say why her question—and her obvious discomfort about asking—stirred him up, but it did. It also renewed his curiosity about her underlying reason for the whole “sex tutor” deal. “Anything else you want to know?”

She shook her head and opened her menu. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Because unlike some people,
I’m
an open book.”

She shut the menu. “And I’m not?”

Just then a waiter appeared and took their drink orders. When he left, Ellie crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair, and stared at him.

He stared right back, issuing a not-so-subtle challenge.