Provocative Professions Collection (2 page)

Brady's hot breath hits the back of my ear. "I knew you'd be coming so I picked up your favorite."

I tilt my head his direction, finding him bent down, his face inches from mine. I can't deny that the man drew the pretty stick. With enough alcohol in me, you might even coerce a confession that I once had a semi-crush on him. Thing is, when I say once, I mean over fifteen years ago when I was about eleven. That all disappeared when he decided to join my brother as the dynamic duo of tormentors who created their very own version of
Fear Factor
…where I was the only contestant every damn episode. Since then, he'd become the bane of my existence.

"Strawberry Jell-O," he murmurs, his lips twitching upward.

Damnit, I do love Jell-O and he's the only one that makes it exactly how I like, adding a thin layer of banana slices on top. Despite his massive kitchen, it's the only thing he
can
make and I've never been able to resist.

Huffing loudly, I accept, allowing him to pull me to my feet and into the kitchen. "He get fired?" I ask lowly, as though my brother's even listening over his enthralling game in there.

"It's not what you think." He grabs the biggest, cheesiest slice, shooting me the knowing grin that I took inventory and noticed. "Have a little faith in him, would ya? His manager's been gunning for him since he figured out Dylan's better than-"

"I believe in him!" I shriek, interrupting and not caring. How could he suggest I don't? "But I also believe in getting the next door open
before
closing the last one," I continue. "He's always rebuilding, never moving up. And you," I glare and poke his chest, "make it too easy for him. He's thirty years old, for Christ's sake! Quit coddling him!"

His features soften, as does the smile he throws me. "I'm just helping him get back on his feet. He can do great things, Moe, all he needs is someone to believe in him and the right opportunity to come along."

Not a smart girl, Jezebel slides into my peripheral, plate in hand, and sneaks a piece of pizza. My eyes narrowing predatorily, I pin her in place.

"One piece, got it? I don't have to buy ya dinner, Sweet pea," I seethe, meeting her shocked, widened eyes. "
I
didn't fuck ya."

"Neither did I!" Dylan yells from the living room. "I'll take her piece if you throw her out!"

Unbelievable. We discuss his life, he hears nothing. Bitch tries to short him food, he's all ears.

"Cookie," Brady coos at her sickeningly. That's what he calls them all—Cookie—since we were teenagers, because he can't remember their names. "You better be going."

She drops the slice back in the box and I return to my own cheesy goodness, satisfied and fully aware I've become a bitch. These two guys bring it out of me, so I place full blame on them and maybe a little on the fact that it's been over twelve months since I've had a man's hands anywhere near my body. I close my eyes, needing to unwind; unfortunately the yapping girl won't allow that.

"But, we didn't finish studying," she pouts, hands on hips, obviously fake chest poofed out in offering to him.

I swallow a bite and peer over at Brady, who's sitting across from me now, refusing to acknowledge her whining. "Another nurse?" I sneer, one eyebrow judgmentally raised.

"Civic duty." He shrugs with a devilish grin, biting off a grotesquely big mouthful of pepperoni heaven.

"Hmph," I scoff, "as if you teach them anything medicinal."

"Oh, but he did," Blondie bounces, ticking the "lessons" off of her fingers. "He taught me the five points of restraint, how to take vitals and," she ponders, "oh yeah, breasts exams!"

My head snaps to Brady, eyes narrowed. "Restraints and breast exams, really?"

"Covering the basics." He winks.

I turn back to Blondie. "Candy, did he show you anything that's actually
on
your test, or did he just want to grope your tits?"

"No, no, no, breast exams are super important. He taught me a lot, want me to show you? I could use the practice!"

Is this
child
for real? I may only be twenty-six years old, but I was smarter than her at, say…five.

My penetrating glare moves from Brady to her. "If your hand comes anywhere near my girls, Goldilocks, you'll be pulling back a nub."

Brady snorts, choking through his laughter, and Nurse Whore is immediately at the ready to clap him on the back.

"Like, really though," she looks at me, pleadingly, "they're super important. You need to do them. Right Brady?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I have a doctor for that," I deadpan.

She bounces again. "Who?"

"Yeah, Moe, who?" Brady asks, recovered and lethally serious.

Shit, how did we get on this subject exactly? "Um, just a doctor." I glance away instinctively. "It's none of your business anyway," I add on a mumble, grabbing another slice and stomping off to the couch.

This day quickly went from hectic to bad to downright nightmarish. Brady reads me like the back of his hand, he's had sixteen years of experience, so I know that he knows I'm full of shit…a lecture is definitely on its way. Bracing for it, I stuff my face, dipping my head to conceal my staring as I watch Brady help Ditzy gather her things and lead her out.

The minute I've relaxed a bit, Brady drops beside me. Ugh, way too close, so I can smell
her
over his classic scent of confidence and man. "You still mad at me?" he leans in and whispers in my ear, earning him a swift elbow to the ribs.

"Is she old enough to drive herself home?"

His head falls back, exposing his taut, tan throat with his laugh. "Yep. Smart enough to have regular exams too. I know you, Moe, your try at evasive doesn't work on me." His voice levels to a chastising, low timbre, his green eyes boldly holding mine. "It pisses me off to think you don't take care of yourself. Women's bodies are complex, fascinating things; there's lots to take care of."

"Why is it such a big deal? I'm only twenty-six years old and it's not like I'm working the streets at night."

"It's a big deal." His stern voice leaves no room for argument.

"Sir, yes, sir, I'll get right on that," I salute, shutting down the conversation. I go grab Dylan another slice, his hand already out when I arrive at the beanbag throne.

"You bet your ass you will," Brady calls out and I try to ignore exactly what that means. He's the most persistent man alive, scarily stubborn and renowned for getting his way…especially when it comes to his friends' health.

Chapter 2

"Well hello there, Mimi," I coo at the brilliant scarlet macaw when I walk in the next morning. The clinic "pet," she's allowed to roam free overnight. "Who's a pretty bird?"

"Mimi's a pretty bird," she responds, flying over to perch on my shoulder.

I flip on the lights and set down my bags, turning the blinds to open as my cell phone begins trilling from my purse.

"Tell her I'm not here, tell her I'm not here," Mimi sing-songs.

I roll my eyes, snickering. Dr. Burns, the town vet I work for, married almost sixty years now, taught the bird that phrase as a passive-aggressive dig at his beloved wife. He thinks it's hilarious.

"Hello?" I answer, slowly, unsure of the caller.

"Ms. Porter?"

My brows pinch. "This is Addison Porter."

"Good morning, this is Whitney from Dr. Reynolds' office. I'm calling to confirm your appointment for tomorrow morning at 10 am."

Appointment?
It hits me in two flat seconds.
Brady.
Shaking my head, I blow out a breath. I should have known that condescending bastard wouldn't let up, but making an appointment for me?! Why am I even surprised? And because this tiny, off the grid town has only one gynecologist,
of course
it's at Dr. Reynolds' office! Never been and never planned to go, but suddenly faced with it, I need to take a minute to consider my options.

There are only two choices—drive thirty-five minutes to the next town, the closest thriving metropolis, defined as such because it boasts both a Taco Bell
and
a Wal-Mart, and bring Brady back a "proof of pap" note, or…

"I'll be there," I manage brightly into the receiver.

"Wonderful, see you then."

I disconnect that call, and am feverishly dialing the next one when my coworker, Maggie, breezes through the door. I guess Brady's reaming will have to wait.

"Are you kidding me, Brady? Presumptuous much? Who makes other people's doctor appointments for them?" I growl into the phone the moment I step outside the office for my lunch.

Know it all, wannabe big brothers who are doctors themselves—that's who.

His tone is stern, making himself clear as he lays it out. "I wasn't kidding, Moe, you can't play around with that stuff. And don't even think about cancelling."

Yeah right, like I'd let him see me sweat! I may have been the wind to his and Dylan's wings growing up, always the shy, bookish little sister tagging along in their shadows, but I'm a grown woman now! I may very well strut into that appointment naked, wrapped in twinkle lights! My life, my vagina…I say who, I say when!

That'll show 'em!

"Oh, I won't," I challenge. "Bet on it."

"Good." Triumph annoyingly evident in his voice. "So what's that blonde coworker of yours with the tight ass wearing today?"

"Nothing she'll let you near again!" I hang up in his ear, smiling gleefully to myself that I got the last word.

The victorious grin I boast is short-lived. As usual.

Only seconds later, my text dings and without even looking I know,
I just know
, who it is. Argh, that man!! See, now even if I don't look,
he
doesn't know I didn't look, and he's still won!

Brady: Last word infinity.

A bubble of laughter catches in my throat as I shake off the grin I can't help. And I wonder why he's the first person Dylan runs to when being a grown up proves too much? They were made for each other; brothers by blood don't have a thing on them.

Releasing some of the anxiety fluttering through me over the appointment, my shoulders drop and my head falls back to rest on the brick wall of the building. What did I get myself into? Any time Brady has control over something in my life, I get burned. I close my eyes, sighing as my mind replays the last disaster courtesy of my so-called buddy.

It was a pottery class, a birthday gift from him that he even agreed to attend with me. Less than twenty minutes in, he was bashing the hot young male instructor for his overly friendly help to the female students, me being one of them. Not that I minded, did I mention he was hot?

Brady pinned the guy with his pointed glare each time he came near me to offer assistance and cracked constant jokes about the guy being a putz a little too loudly. The case cracker, however, was Brady's "the man needs to bend her over already" comment that got him physically removed from class. Turns out the "her" in question and Teacher were actually a couple, happily married. And me—sitting pretty, hands gooey, loving the vase I was slowly creating—was shown the door before I could finish. Why? Because of Mr. I Know Everything and Can't Keep my Opinions to My Damn Self.

Despite the past, Brady's a huge part of my life and I'd give in this one time, but not without leveling the playing field a little. With only ten minutes left in the lunch break that Brady managed to hijack, a sinister, but brilliant, idea hits me and I act before I can talk myself out of it.

"Hello?"

"Kathy? Hi, it's Addison Porter, how are you?" I grip the phone tightly, excitement coursing through me.

Thanks to the Brady flu disaster of '03, I conveniently have his housekeeper's number… too tempting to resist. I'd spent an entire weekend pampering him, sick in bed, only to collapse down beside him in the end. Luckily, he was coming out of his sweat-induced fog just as I was heading into it. The familiar shiver races up from my spine, recalling how he held me in his arms, kissed my forehead, and promised to take care of me. And he did, showering me with unwavering tenderness for the rest of the week. He held my hair while I emptied my stomach, continuously cooled the washcloth he pressed to my fevered skin, and fed me my favorite soup. Despite his herculean efforts, we still needed Kathy for drug store runs, bless her heart.

"Well, I'm fine, dear. How are you?" She's such a nice woman; I come
this close
to nixing the whole plan and making up a random excuse for the call.

This close.

"I'm good, thank you. I was calling for Brady, he's tied up in cases today. Dylan's staying with him for a while and really wants to earn his keep, so Brady thought it'd be nice to give you all next week off and let Dylan take care of it."

"A week off?" She breathes out wistfully, evidently already imagining ways to spend the free time. "I could go visit my son."

"You should!"
Easy there, Addison, not too obvious
. "I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"Yes, that's what I'll do. This is wonderful, please tell Brady and Dylan both thank you."