The M.D.'s Surprise Family (14 page)

The next moment, Raven leaned into him. Taking hold of his shirt, she pulled his head down to her level and brushed her lips against his. “Thanks for being such a good sport.”

He laughed shortly as she released her hold on his shirt. “Did I have a choice?”

She looked at him for a long moment. “You always had a choice.” And then she smiled again. “This means a lot to Blue.”

He had yet to even see the boy. “There must be a hundred people out there—”

“A hundred and twenty,” she corrected.

“I don't think he'd even miss me.”

“Trust me,” she told him, carefully hanging up the clothes he had arrived in, “he'd miss you.” She
placed his suit and shirt into the closet for the time being. Even as she did so, she couldn't help wondering if he was going to spend the night. “Blue's got radar when it comes to things like that.”

Her blouse slid seductively from her shoulder. He blocked a very real desire to press a kiss to the skin he saw exposed. “Takes after his sister, I guess.”

Turning toward him again, she grinned as she tugged her blouse back into place.

Maybe it was the costume, or maybe he had just taken leave of his senses. It wasn't clear to him, but whatever the reason, he gave in to his impulse and pulled Raven to him. The surprised then pleased expression on her face only served to fuel the desire that grew in his veins. He brought his mouth to hers.

Though he would have wanted it to continue forever, he allowed the kiss to go on only a moment, afraid that what was happening inside of him would get the best of him, pushing him in directions he told himself he had no intentions of going again.

He knew he was lying about the last part.

The look in her eyes was nothing short of abject delight as she looked at him. “You're loosening up already.”

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Must be the costume,” he muttered.

He didn't have to look at her to know she was grinning. “Must be.”

 

He really hadn't planned on having fun. Never much of a joiner, Peter had been the man who perpetually lived on the outside. It didn't bother him. Being on the outside had become familiar to him. Safe. If you weren't close to anything, you didn't risk anything. Eventually, he felt awkward in any other position.

But being on the outside was not an option tonight. Raven seemed bent on infusing him into this party she'd thrown for her brother. She never left his side and made it a point to introduce him to everyone who crossed their path. She introduced him as the neurosurgeon who had saved Blue from living a life confined to a wheelchair and allowed, after linking her hand with his, everyone else to make their own conclusions after that.

Peter watched their responses with growing amusement as interest entered and flared within people's eyes when they covertly looked from her to him.

It wasn't lost on Raven, either. At one point she raised herself up on her toes and whispered against his ear, “I think they think we're an item.”

Because he wanted to have her elaborate, he played dumb. “An item?”

She nodded. “You know, together.” Her eyes smiled into his. “A couple.”

A couple. How long had it been since the word had had anything to do with him? It sounded almost
seductive now. Maybe he shouldn't have that last glass of wine. But wine wasn't going to his head, he thought. She was. Everything about her was. “Maybe you should set them straight.”

Her face was a study in pure innocence as she looked at him. “What should I tell them?”

“That I'm Blue's doctor.” But then, he reminded himself, she'd already told everyone that.

Raven cocked her head. Her blouse had slipped from her shoulder again and it was bare as her hair brushed along it. Peter felt his stomach tightening. “Is that all?”

He pretended to think it over. “I'm trapped in a time warp from the seventies?” he guessed.

He could feel her smile inside his chest. Feel her warmth as it touched him. “Anything else?”

Suddenly he wanted to get out of here. To take her with him and spend the remainder of the night making love with her. To savor for all time. But he couldn't say that to her. He could hardly say that to himself.

“I don't know,” he finally admitted.

It felt as if she'd taken another step closer to him, even though she hadn't moved a muscle. “Should I get back to you on that?”

He needed to warn her away, before it was too late for both of them. He didn't want her thinking he could give her something he couldn't. “Raven, I'm hollow inside.”

“Hollow things are just begging for something to fill them,” she told him softly.

He shook his head. This just wasn't going to work. “Look—”

But just then the band that she had hired began to play a slow song. Her eyes lit up as the first strains drifted through the air. “Always and Forever.”

“Listen. That was my parents' favorite song. My dad asked my mom to marry him while they were dancing to this.” Taking him by the hand, she started leading him to the area that had been cleared as a dance floor. “Dance with me, Peter?” she asked suddenly. “You don't have to ask me to marry you, but I really would love to dance.”

“I don't dance.” The words were uttered to the back of her head.

As usual, she didn't accept his protest. “You can shift from foot to foot, can't you?”

“Yes, but—”

She turned around to face him, her hands out, waiting for his to take them. “Good, then you can dance. Trust me. Slow dances are just moving your feet from side to side. They're really just about holding someone to you. Unless you don't want to do that.”

He didn't answer her. Instead he took her into his arms and began to sway. If she wanted to call it dancing, fine. He called it heaven.

P
eter didn't leave.

It was well into the evening before the last stragglers finally left the party. The birthday boy had been going strong throughout it all, displaying more energy than any three boys his age combined. Blue said it was because he'd turned eight.

But the minute the last guest was out the door, he seemed to collapse. Anyone looking at him would have seen one very tired kid.

Raven turned away from the door and looked at him, her heart melting. He was trying so hard to be all grown up.
Don't hurry the process too much, Blue. Be little for as long as you can.

“Want me to carry some of your loot upstairs, Tiger?” she asked, ruffling Blue's hair.

He picked up three action figures that had caught his fancy the moment he'd unwrapped them. They'd come from his best friend, Chuck.

“No, that's okay.” He looked at the collection of toys and games he'd amassed. They were all spread out in the family room, where the kids had gone to play while the adults had danced and pretended they were kids. “Can I put them away in the morning?”

Trying to keep a serious face, Raven looked at her watch. “Well, you still have two hours left to be king.” She executed a deep curtsy. “Whatever you wish, Blue.” She saw Peter look at her quizzically. “It's his birthday, he gets to makes the rules—within reason,” she added with a wink sent her brother's way.

Blue seemed too tired to notice. He was already heading toward the stairs and his bedroom, an action figure in each hand, and one tucked under his arm.

“I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in,” Raven told him.

Blue spared her a single look. “I'm eight.” If he meant the statement as a protest, he wasn't altogether convincing.

“And still tuckable,” she called after him before turning toward Peter. She couldn't get over how
good he looked. But she knew he was probably miserable. That he'd endured this for her—and Blue—meant a great deal. “I imagine you can't wait to get out of those clothes.”

Peter stared at her. “What?” His eyes immediately glanced toward the stairs to see if Blue had overheard her comment. But if the boy had, it hadn't registered. He was still trudging up the spiral staircase.

Raven pressed her lips together in order not to laugh. “And into your own,” she clarified. Although peeling him out of his clothes was definitely not a bad idea, she thought.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

He figured that it was rather obvious what he was thinking. What he had been thinking all evening long. That he wanted her, wanted to be with her away from this crowd. How could he
not
feel that way, seeing as how she was at his side all evening, her body brushing against his, the fragrance in her hair all but seducing him. When they had danced together, it had been all he could do not to kiss her.

But he was a private person. And what he was feeling right now was very, very private.

“The bedroom where you left your clothes is over here.” She began to lead the way.

It was a big house, but he wasn't completely without a sense of direction. “I remember.”

Ah, she was obviously treading on his manly art of pathfinding, she thought, backing away.

“Okay.” She changed direction. “Then I'll go see to Blue.”

As he passed the unwrapped gifts, he had to ask her. “The presents Blue got…”

She stopped, looking at him. “Yes?”

He would have expected outlandishly expensive gifts being bestowed on the boy. Instead, Blue seemed rather happy to have toys that could have easily been found in any toy store.

“I'm surprised that he just got…” His voice trailed off.

“Normal gifts?” she supplied. “Because, despite the fact that my little brother's super-intelligent, he's mercifully just a normal little boy under all that. I asked anyone who wanted to spend a lot of money to donate it to a charity in his name. The last thing I want is for Blue to get spoiled. Living in this house, knowing there's half an empire waiting for him when he comes of age, is hard enough to deal with. For as long as possible, I want him remaining sweet and innocent.”

She looked so serious, like a crusader espousing a cause near and dear to her heart. He fought the urge to take her into his arms. “Like you.”

The serious expression melted as Raven smiled at him. Her eyes danced. “We both know I'm not all
that
innocent.”

Unable to refrain, Peter cupped her cheek. “I'm looking forward to that part.”

She pulled back, even though she didn't want to. “I've got a little brother to tuck in. Wait for me.”

As if he could do anything else, he thought, watching her hurry away.

 

Despite the profusion of costumes dating back to another decade, the evening was not about pretenses. They both knew he was staying. He didn't even bother trying to lie to himself by pretending that he was leaving once he had changed his clothes.

Nothing but a full-fledged emergency at the hospital could make him walk away from her tonight.

She was back just as he'd finished changing out of the costume and into his own clothes. She knocked on the door so softly, he almost thought it was his imagination.

“Come in.”

Raven peeked in before entering. She saw the bell bottoms, shirt and vest carefully folded over the back of one of the chairs. He was back in uniform, she thought. “Feel better?”

Tie in hand, he turned to look at her. She was still wearing the same outfit she'd had on during the party. Rather than date her, it made her look appealingly timeless.

“More like me,” he confessed.

Crossing to him, Raven framed his face between her hands. Very lightly, she moved them along his cheeks. “Yes, it definitely feels like you,” she murmured. Rising on her toes, she lightly pressed her lips against his, then pulled away again, as if weighing something in her mind. “Tastes like you, too.”

“Are you sure?” He fit his hands on the swell of her hips. “Maybe you need another sample.”

Taking hold of his tie, she slid it from his hand and tossed it aside. “I don't want a sample,” she told him, her eyes never leaving his. “I want the main course.”

“It's heating up even as we speak.” Raven laughed then, softly, lightly, tantalizing him with the sound. He tugged her closer. Pulling the peasant blouse off her shoulder, he kissed it. “I've been wanting to do that all evening.”

She could feel desire taking hold of her, its warm, probing fingers inserting themselves everywhere. Raven pressed against him. She could feel his body heat, feel it mingling with hers.

“What else have you been wanting to do?”

“This.” As gently as he could, he pulled her blouse up over her head, then let it fall to the rug. This time, she was wearing a small, white lace bra.

But only for a moment.

It went the way of the blouse. In a heartbeat, he was covering the area with his hands instead of any
fabric. Adrenaline began to surge through him, going in all directions at once. Pounding, demanding.

Remembering.

“You shouldn't have gotten dressed,” she murmured against his neck as she brushed her lips along his skin and made him crazy. “I'm only going to have to undress you.”

Peter had no idea why hearing that suddenly made him feel weak in his knees, but it did. Something stirred within him, stirred hard. He found himself wanting her with a passion that was almost impossible to contain.

It took extreme control not to tear the clothes off his own body but to stand there instead as her long, cool fingers moved the jacket down along his arms, undid the buttons on first his vest, then his shirt, and slowly peeled them away from his body. By the time she got to his slacks, he felt as if he was going to burst.

He molded his hands over hers, hurrying her along. “You always this slow?”

Amusement lifted the corners of her mouth. She was loving this, loving his response, loving her own response to him.

Her arms around his neck, she cleaved to him. “No, just always this thorough.”

He could almost feel her smile along his lips, even though there was a little bit of distance between them. When her hands rested on his hips,
pushing away the finely tailored slacks, he pulled down her skirt and, with it, the small, inviting scrap that was her underwear.

Their nude bodies already slick with desire and anticipation, they returned to the playing field where all things were equal. Where the outside world did not intrude. He wanted nothing more than to touch her again, to explore her again, and silently, oh so silently, to commit again.

He made love to her with all the feeling that had burst free of its bounds, made love to her as if his very soul depended on it.

Because it did.

He hadn't had a soul in two years, he'd lost it the day he'd lost his family. And Raven had brought it back to him. Made him feel, made him afraid.

Made him alive.

 

Each time it was better than the last. Each time he took her, she was that much more convinced that this was as perfect as it could be.

And then it got better.

And somewhere along the line, amid the touches and the kisses, the fire and the passion, she knew. Knew that Peter Sullivan was the one. The one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

But that was something she was going to keep to herself.

 

Unlike the first time, he didn't stay the night. Because he wanted nothing more than to lie next to her.

He tried to tell himself that what he was experiencing was purely physical, that he'd passed some kind of rite of passage and had become like so many other men, just in need of a sexual release and nothing more.

The thought hung in front of him like the black lie it was even as he tried to convince himself of it.

Peter clung to the lie as he left her bed in the middle of the night, careful not to wake her. Because if he woke her, she would look at him with those eyes he adored and bring him back to her side without a word.

He was in jeopardy of going down for the third time and he had to do something to save himself. He was deathly afraid of the pain that was to be found at the end of the road.

Better not to feel anything than to feel that.

He almost had himself believing it as he slipped out the door.

 

Through hooded eyes, Raven had watched him get dressed, had watched him leave. Watched him as her heart grew heavier and heavier. She'd been hoping that, like her, he had emerged out the dark cave where he'd been hiding himself. Hiding his heart.

But they were two different people and while loving gave her hope, it obviously gave him despair.

Raven sighed, turning so that she stared up at the ceiling. Pulling the covers up around herself didn't take away the chill she felt. She knew Peter cared about her. In the ways of her mother's ancestors, she could sense it down to her very bones. She was never wrong when it came to things like this.

However, not being wrong didn't help make things turn out right. Didn't help convince him to remain with her. This was something that, ultimately, Peter was going to have to sort out for himself. She could only be there when he did.

Because her heart was not about to go anywhere.

 

“You look preoccupied.” Dr. Harry Welles shifted, adjusting his hospital gown. He watched his star pupil step back from the bed. Peter had just come in to give him one last exam before the two of them were to meet again in the operating salon this morning. But rather than assist or supervise, Harry would spend the entirety of the operation anesthetized. It was an odd feeling.

Harry felt tired these days, the kind of tired that encompassed a lifetime. He promised himself a vacation once this was behind him.

He watched the strange, distant expression on Peter's face. “Should I be worried?” he finally prompted when there was no response.

Realizing that he'd let his thoughts drift off again, Peter frowned, annoyed at his lack of concentration. “No, this isn't about you.” Because Harry deserved better, he added, “I'm sorry.”

The expression on the other man's face told him that there was no need to be sorry. He'd never noticed before that Harry had patient eyes.

“Want to talk about it?” Harry offered.

What was there to say? Peter thought. He'd been trying to wean himself off Raven, to wean himself of his need for her and what she represented. “Not really.”

Harry shook his head. “Bad sign, Peter. You should always find a way to talk.”

Peter looked at him sharply. This didn't sound at all like the man he'd all but worshiped through his internship and residency. “You didn't.”

“Exactly,” Harry drove the point home. “That's why I know it's a bad sign.”

He picked at the bedclothes, shaking his head again, this time at the irony that had brought him to this place. How many times had he been on the other side of the railing, assuring patients that everything was going to be fine and that they shouldn't worry? In this position, it was impossible
not
to worry.

Harry grasped the metal bar, looking down at the medical tag that encircled his wide wrist. It proclaimed to the entire world that he was not a doctor
but a patient. “Funny thing about finding yourself on this side of the bed railings, you start to see things a lot differently. Start asking questions.”

Peter thought he had a pretty good handle on what the man was probably going through. What he might be going through in his place. He'd already silently asked the question for Harry when faced with the man's diagnosis. “Like, why me?”

The question seemed to take Harry by surprise. “No, more like ‘what the hell was I thinking?'”

Peter stared at the older man, confused. “Excuse me?”

“What was I thinking,” Harry repeated, then added, “not having a life.”