Private Practice (5 page)

She blinked first and lowered her eyes. “How long have you had the bike?”

“Now we’re really getting personal. A long time.” Shrugging off a vague disappointment, he added. “Maybe too long.”

“Is there a statute of limitations on riding a motorcycle?”

“I’m learning yes, to some folks. But that’s a story for another time. Ever been here before?”

“No, never, but this is nice.” She stared out at the lights twinkling along the opposite bank of the river and breathed deeply. “Before I left for college, Bluelick’s version of fine dining meant Rawley’s or the place off the Double A with the statue of the husky kid in red-checked overalls.”

He laughed. “I save the kid in the overalls for the second date.”

“This isn’t really a date.”

“Says who? I see you, single, attractive female. Me, single, available guy. Moonlight and candles. What more do you need before you call it a date?”

“We have an arrangement,” she replied primly, and straightened in her chair, which only made him want to kiss her senseless.

“Wasn’t aware they were mutually exclusive. Maybe you should tell me what you’re really trying to accomplish with our arrangement.”

“I’ve already told you. New topic.”

“Ellie.”

“New topic,” she repeated. “How long has The Catch been here? I don’t remember anything except run-down old buildings.”

He held his response until the waiter served their drinks, then took a swallow of his iced tea before continuing. “About three years. My team did the renovations on this building, which were substantial considering we started with a neglected, century-old tobacco warehouse. We managed to rehab about sixty percent of the original structure.”

She looked around again. “Wow. You worked a miracle. The walls whisper with history, but at the same time, it’s comfortable and relaxed…and the view. I can understand why it’s such a popular spot.”

“Pretty view, plus they serve up the best shrimp and ribs you ever tasted.”

The waiter returned and asked if they were ready to order.

Tyler arched a brow at her. She nodded. “I hear the shrimp is excellent.”

“Shrimp
and
ribs,” he corrected, and pointed to a nearby table where a server delivered plates piled high with skewers of barbecue shrimp and racks of baby back ribs. “Surf and turf, Bluelick style.”

Her gorgeous mouth fell open. “Oh my God. I can’t eat that much.”

“You were hungry when I picked you up. You must be downright starving after our ride.”

Her eyes cut to his and she shifted in her seat. The tiny move told him she remembered every aspect of their ride, in intimate detail.
He
remembered the flash of black silk beneath her skirt. Continuing in a deliberately seductive drawl, he said, “I want to make sure we completely satisfy your appetite.”

The waiter coughed and cleared his throat. “Two shrimp and ribs?”

Tyler nodded. The young man smiled politely and departed.

Ellie squirmed again and then glanced at Tyler.

He leaned in, close enough to smell her perfume. “Tell me, Doc, how’s the underwear working out for you?”

She twirled the stem of her wineglass between restless fingers and stared out at the river. “They’re very, um, distracting.”

“I think that’s part of the thrill. If it’s any consolation, they’ve been distracting me ever since you mentioned them.”

The soft light played over the curve of her cheek and wove midnight highlights in the dark curtain of her hair. He gave in to the urge to sweep it back from her face, so he could see her eyes.

“I have to say, I’m flattered you dressed up for me, so to speak.”

“Well, I’m no Lou Ann. I need all the enhancements.”

He scooted his chair closer. She jerked in surprise when he slid his hand under the tablecloth and over her knees. “You do not,” he said softly.

She resorted to quoting the authorities. “The book I ordered included very specific information about the proper attire for this kind of thing.”

“The book?” Determined to prove her wrong, he insinuated his hand between her knees.

“What are you doing?” Her voice came out slightly pitchy.

“Making a point.” He eased his hand under her knee and ran it slowly along her calf, lifting her leg in the process. “You’re expanding your horizons, remember? Answer the question. What book?”

“I ordered a how-to guide so I could figure out what I needed to learn and, you know…” She trailed off when he curled his fingers around her delicate ankle and removed her strappy high-heeled sandal. “…study, so I’d be prepared.”

“Let me get this straight. You decide you want more action and adventure in your sex life, so first thing you do is buy a book and study up? Does that strike you as ironic?” He ran his thumb slowly along her arch, applying just enough pressure to make her moan.

“It’s…logical,” she finally managed.

“Logical, huh?”
Keep a straight face
, he ordered himself, but his lips twitched.

“Jeez, Tyler, don’t hurt yourself. Go ahead and laugh, but I honestly don’t see what’s so funny. If I want to improve at something, I learn as much as I can about the topic and then put what I’ve learned into practice. Why approach this any differently?”

Her irritation, as much as her linear reasoning, unleashed the laugh he’d struggled to hold back. She tried to tug her foot free, but he held on.

“Simmer down, Doc. I’m about to show you why.” With that, he placed her foot in the V between his legs, so there was no way she could miss the highly compelling evidence supporting his argument. “You do this to me just the way you are. No fancy underwear or how-to book needed.”

Her eyes widened, and then, yes, there it was. She blushed.

“I’m sure it’s just the wine and candlelight. Or tea and candlelight, in your case.” Although she tried to joke, her toes curled into him, torturing him with the small exploration.

He wrapped his hand around the top of her foot, holding here there. “It’s not the candlelight.” He squeezed her foot and swept his thumb over her ankle. “I’d love to know why it’s so tough to believe you alone might do the job. Why you think you need lessons on driving a man wild? Enlighten me, Doc.”

Chapter Six

Ellie wasn’t sure she could speak to reply. Tyler kept one hand on her foot, nestling it intimately against him, while his other hand journeyed up her calf. Even if she could talk, she had no intention of coming clean. Roger’s tastes, and her desire to satisfy them, weren’t for public consumption.

“What if I told you this is the raciest dinner I’ve ever had in my life?” she asked.

“I’d say it’s not over yet.” As proof, his nimble fingers rounded the curve of her knee and continued up her thigh.

She grasped the table and moaned softly as those big, blunt fingers stroked dangerously close to the thin strip of silk providing a flimsy barrier between her and a complete physical meltdown.

“Definitely not over,” he said, and stroked again.

“Don’t,” she groaned, and dropped her hand beneath the table to grip his wrist. But at the same time she scooted closer to the edge of her chair. She was sending mixed messages and couldn’t seem to help it.

“Want me to stop?” Even as he posed the question, his fingers danced a little farther up her thigh. Concentration became impossible. Her pulse skittered out of control, pounding in her throat, her chest, between her legs.

“I think…yes…I think you’d better.”

He leaned closer until she drowned in his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, and slowly trailed his hand back down the soft, vulnerable flesh of her thigh. She shivered.

He smiled. “What you’re feeling right now? That’s exactly how I feel when I look at you. You’re as hot as they come, so do me a favor and stop comparing yourself to Lou Ann. Deal?”

God, she felt hot right now, with his eyes locked on hers and her body still quivering from his touch. She also felt stripped bare and defenseless, because he seemed to see straight through to some long-buried insecurities.

Her father hadn’t been the type to dispense compliments. To Frank she’d been a duty, a chore, and a painful reminder of the wife he’d lost too soon. The less attention she demanded from him, the better. Teachers gave her positive feedback on her academic performance, and because she’d been starving for praise, she’d focused her efforts there. Which might explain why she could attack any academic pursuit with confidence, but the rest—looks, personality, feminine allure—remained big, fat question marks. She never realized how much she cared about the answers until Tyler volunteered his. Thankfully the waiter’s approach saved her the need to formulate an immediate reply.

The server delivered their meals and retreated. She stared at her plate, momentarily distracted by the mountain of food in front of her.

“Deal?” Tyler prompted, holding a shrimp to her lips.

“Deal,” she murmured. Lowering her eyes, she closed her mouth around the shrimp, expecting him to release it. Instead he slowly pulled until the curled delicacy sprang free with a soft pop. His playful grin coaxed an answering smile from her.

“Does any woman manage to resist you?”

“Some do. But tonight, I’m inspired.”

“Hope you’re also hungry, because this is far too much food.”

“Don’t worry, Doc. I know what I’m doing.”

She nibbled a rib and then licked the spicy sauce from her lips. “I’m counting on that.”

…

On the ride back to Ellie’s house, Tyler racked his brain to remember the last time dinner with a woman had been so fascinating, sexy, and plain old fun. She engaged him on levels he didn’t expect—like her genuine appreciation for the work he’d done on the restaurant. He enjoyed building, enjoyed constructing something innovative and lasting, but rehabbing and renovating old buildings held special appeal. They were hard jobs to bid, because surprises lurked behind every wall and under every floorboard, yet he loved the challenge and the satisfaction of seeing a slice of history standing tall and proud at the end of the project.

Women’s eyes usually glazed over when he mentioned his work, but Ellie had listened with real interest and found parallels between their professions. According to her, he examined, diagnosed, and healed the old structures so they could thrive again. The words made him smile. He’d never thought about what he did in quite those terms, but her assessment got down to the heart of it. Her quick mind and, yes, those elusive dimples captivated him to the point that he’d had to consciously stop himself from unloading the sad story of his ambitions for the Browning project.

Of course, the weight of her breasts crushed against his back and her legs clenched snugly around his hips engaged him, too, but on a level he completely expected. He still couldn’t fathom why she thought she needed to be wilder, more experienced…whatever. But he looked forward to helping her expand her horizons. Maybe he’d been wrong about taking things slow. She seemed pretty certain about what she wanted from him. He still figured she had a hidden agenda, but fine, they weren’t soul mates, just bedmates for the next little while. So what if yet another person assumed the bedroom brought out his best talents?

This time when he stopped the bike in her driveway, she leaned into him for balance and slid off with ease. Fast learner. He appreciated how the hem of her little skirt danced high on her thighs as she walked up the front steps. When she pulled the key from her small shoulder bag and tried to fit it in the lock, her hands shook just enough to make the target difficult.

“Shoot,” she said under her breath.

He eased up behind her until his chest brushed her shoulder blades. Scents of gardenia and vanilla wafted from her hair, her skin. She smelled pretty and feminine and…edible.

“Problem?”

“No.” With her head bent forward, a cascade of wavy dark hair shielded her face from his view. She shoved the key into the lock, twisted the knob, and swore again when the door didn’t budge.

Holding back a chuckle, he used a finger to move her hair out of the way and looked at her. “You sure?”

Wide, vexed eyes stared back at him. He covered her hand with his and twisted the doorknob the other way. The lock mechanism released and the door opened.
Reverse course
, he ordered all the blood that had settled between his legs during the ride back to her place. Ellie was about to jump out of her skin, which only reinforced his original instinct to take things slow—way slower than her beloved lesson plan.

She stared at the door like she wanted to kick it, then exhaled and gave him a sheepish look. “Maybe I’m a little nervous.” Her eyes shifted away and she rambled on in what he was beginning to recognize as another sign of nerves. “I don’t know why. I mean, this whole thing was my idea. I have everything planned out, and I’m as prepared as possible. I’ve got the bedroom all set up.”

God, she really was adorable when she went all type A on him. “Invite me in for a drink, Doc.”

“Oh, right. Please come in.” She hurried inside and was halfway to the kitchen by the time he shut the door. Then she stopped in her tracks, and turned to him, all pink and flustered. “Would you like chardonnay, or…I’m sorry, I don’t have any beer. I received a bottle of Maker’s Mark as a housewarming present, if you prefer something harder?”

He was plenty hard already, thank you very much. But she definitely needed to unwind. “Bourbon’s fine, as long as I’m not drinking alone.”

Now she looked hesitant. “I don’t know. I already had a glass of wine with dinner and I’m not much of a drinker. I don’t want to get tipsy, because, despite alcohol’s entrenchment in the American mating ritual, depressants actually don’t do much for female performance. Male either, for that matter.” Heading to the kitchen, she added, “I should probably make yours with plenty of ice and water.”

Now he did laugh. There he stood, smack in the middle of her hallway with a hard-on like a steel joist in his jeans, and she was worried about him getting it up.

He wandered in to find her reaching into a high cabinet for the bourbon. Going over her head, he retrieved the bottle and placed it on the counter. “Don’t water down good bourbon. That’s a sacrilege. I don’t know about the other guys you’ve done this with, Doc, but
I’m
not gonna wilt after one drink.” Then a thought slammed into his head like a two-by-four and nearly knocked him off his feet. He took her chin and tipped her face toward his. “Ah, you have done this before, right?”

She frowned. “Of course.”

“More than once?”

Drawing herself up—all five feet and a handful of inches—she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the stern look that, for some twisted reason, made him want to do all kinds of depraved things to her. “Not that it’s any of your business, Tyler, but I’ve had sex plenty of times. I had a boyfriend during med school and another the final year of my residency.”

“Well, shit, Sparky. You be the teacher and I’ll be the student.”

“Ha ha.” She took two lowball glasses from another cabinet, added ice, and placed them on the counter.

He poured them each two fingers and capped the bottle. Then he picked up his glass, tapped it to hers, and took a sip. “So, with all this vast prior experience, what makes you think you need tutoring?”

She shrugged, but her eyes evaded his when she replied and he knew he wasn’t going to the get whole story. “My relationships were very, um, conventional, I guess. To be honest, sex wasn’t a huge priority, compared to classes and rounds. More like a study break—a nice way to relieve stress. But now, I want more. I want to deliver the fireworks and lightning you read about in novels.” She turned and stared uncomfortably out the window.

She thought sex was “nice”? Hmm. “These guys you were with, though…they got the job done for you, right?”

Her eyes flicked to his, then skittered away again. “Um, sort of?”

“Sort of? The question requires a yes or no answer, Doc.”

“It was hit or miss,” she replied briskly, but her tone told him better than words it was mostly miss. She gulped half her drink, slapped a hand to her chest as she swallowed, and added, “That’s not really my focus here, Tyler. I need to learn how to fulfill a man’s desires.”

Well, she had her focus, he had his. “Hit or miss” wasn’t his style. He put his drink aside and considered things for a moment. “I think your aim is fundamentally flawed.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“In my experience, which might be just a little bit broader than yours, if my partner isn’t having at least as much fun as I am, that’s kind of a mood killer.”

Her frown deepened and he wondered how he kept himself from sinking his teeth into that pouty lower lip. “According to the manual—”

“Let’s take a look at this manual of yours.”

“Fine.” She downed the rest of her drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. “Great, actually, as that gets us back on plan. Follow me.”

She wobbled on the turn. He caught her elbow and kept her on course as they made their way to her room. Once there, she walked to the brass bed, sat heavily on the fluffy white duvet, and shrugged out of her cardigan. The room struck him as pure Ellie—unique and unfussy, but unmistakably feminine. She favored light colors and wood accents. Gesturing to her nightstand, she smiled proudly. “I’ve got everything we need right here.”

“And then some,” he agreed as he took a seat beside her.

“What do you mean?”

He pointed to the tube of lube. “As long as I have two hands and a tongue, we’re not going to need the Astroglide.”

She tapped the book on her nightstand. “The guide specifically recommended it.”

“Yeah, yeah, the guide. He skimmed the title and noted the five green tags peeking neatly from the side. “May I?”

She nodded and offered it to him. “I guess now would be a good time to let me know if you have any objections. I flagged the chapters I want you to help me with.”

“Of course you did.” Taking the manual, he quickly flipped through. If he found highlighted text or margin notes, he might have to sweep his good intentions aside and ball her overactive brains out, right then and there. “Let’s see…” He opened to the first tab. “Chapter 3, no problem.”

“Good.”

He flipped the pages to the next flagged chapter. “Chapter 6, fine, but we’ll need to go shopping unless you’ve already got—?”

“No, we’ll need to buy the…ah…accoutrements.”

“Leave it to a woman to find an excuse to shop for something as basic as sex. I know a place in Lexington—”

“I figured online would be more private and convenient.”

He shook his head and tipped the book to the side to take in an illustration. “No. Field trip to Lexington is the way to go. This is the kind of thing where you want to be able to handle the merchandise before you make a purchase.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “We’ll work in a trip to Lexington.” Her tone made him smile. He’d messed with her precious plan again.

“Anything else?”

“Don’t know yet.” He advanced to the next flag. “Chapter 9 is one of my personal favorites…and 10,” he added, flipping again. When he came to the tab on chapter 13, however, he paused, reread the title, and then glanced through the text and illustrations to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted anything. Was she serious? A quick glace her way suggested she was. “I’m vetoing this one.” With his index finger, he tapped the page.

“Why?”

“Well, first off, you won’t like it, and second, in case you had other ideas, I sure as hell don’t want you doing it to me.”

She took the book from him and read furiously. “Be serious. I’m not even equipped to do it to you. You do it to me. According to the experts, men love chapter 13. See?” She shoved the damn thing in his face, her finger pointing insistently to the five stars preceding the section.

He moved the book aside. “I don’t care what the book says. Trust me, your so-called experts don’t know everyth—”

“Look, I chose all the five-star items and chapter 13 is one of them. If you don’t help me with it, I’ll have to find someone who will.”

The comment brought an immediate flare of some unfamiliar emotion he refused to name. He battled a strong urge to toss the book out the window, throw her down on the bed, and show her she already knew exactly what to do to bring a man to his knees.

She must have sensed she’d rubbed him the wrong way, because those long lashes lowered, then rose a bit and she looked at him from beneath. “Please?”