The Wedding Date: A Christmas Novella (3 page)

She deflated. “Oh. Well, it was nice meeting you.” She rallied with a smile, and Cody felt a twinge of regret for another relationship that died before it was born.

Lifting a hand to the gaggle, he walked out the door and into the lonely night.

Chapter Three

T
HE CLOSING WENT
off beautifully. When the empty-nest Westins turned the key over to the newly pregnant Andersons, Julie felt more than just the satisfaction of a job well done; she felt joy, made all the brighter and deeper by the wistfulness that limned it.

Back at the office, she handed off the fifty-thousand-dollar commission check to Jan. “You can bring that to the bank and take the rest of the day off.”

It was their routine after closing a big sale, and Jan was obviously expecting it. Her huge purse squatted on her desk, ready to go. “I’m getting a mani/pedi,” she said. “Wish you could come with me.”

“So do I.” Feeling resentful, Julie held out her hand for the pink slip with Cody Brown’s number on it. “I can’t believe I let him rope me into this.”

“I can.” Jan giggled. “I’d let him rope me into just about anything. Then he could use that rope to tie me up—”

“Jan Marone!” Julie was shocked. “I told you not to read
Fifty Shades
!”

“And it was the worst advice you ever gave me.” Jan dug through her purse, past the kitchen sink, and came out with a dog-eared copy of the first volume. Tugging the pink slip from Julie’s fingers, she stuck it in the middle of the book and handed it to Julie. “See you Monday. Meanwhile, have fun with Dr. Do-Me.”

Slack-jawed, Julie watched her formerly repressed cousin scoot out of the office. Then she shook the pink slip out of the book. She certainly would
not
have fun with
Dr.
Do-Me.

Maybe if he’d been plain old Cody Brown, she would’ve considered it, because even she had to admit that three years without sex was two years, eleven months, three weeks, and six days too long. But losing David had shriveled her libido along with her heart, and even though both had finally stirred to life when Cody walked into her office, she wasn’t going there with a
doctor
. Not a chance.

She’d learned all she needed to know about doctors when David was ill, starting with the neurologist who wrote off his headaches as migraines—until the MRI they insisted on revealed the tumor. After that, he’d shuffled them off to a surgeon, who’d pushed them on to an oncologist, who passed them off to a radiologist . . . In all, David had seen a dozen doctors, and each one—each almighty specialist—had offered them hope but brought only misery. Surgery. Radiation. Chemotherapy. All had hurt David, and hurt Julie too, because watching him suffer was a brand of torture all its own.

And when their miracles inevitably failed, each one of those high-dollar doctors wrote it off to statistical probabilities and pushed David down the line without a backward thought. Until finally, there weren’t any more specialists, and he was left to walk the last leg of his journey alone, with only Julie and the wonderful hospice nurses at his side.

Oh yes, she’d had enough of doctors to last a lifetime.

So why, why, why had she taken Cody on? What was she thinking?

She
wasn’t
thinking, that was the problem. She was feeling. And those feelings were all wrong. They’d suckered her into this BAD IDEA. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d make a BAD MOVE. Which, with a
doctor
—who was a player to boot—would certainly lead to a really BAD ENDING.

She could only hope he was as motivated as he claimed. With luck, he’d jump at the first place she showed him, and she’d be rid of him before she made another mistake.

She dialed his number, got his voicemail: “It’s Cody. Start talking.” She hung up. Damn him. She didn’t want to drag this out.

Outside, a sleety December drizzle came down from a leaden sky. Cars
shissed
past, spraying sludge. She sprinted next door to the Plaza and marched straight up to the desk. “I’m looking for Dr. Brown,” she informed the pretty brunette with the “Ashley” nametag. “Can you ring his room?”

Ashley broke into a smile. “Oh, Cody’s not in his room. He went down the street to Starbucks.” Looking up over Julie’s shoulder, her smile widened. “Here he comes now. And he’s got my latte. Isn’t he sweet?” She sighed.

Julie turned around. And sure enough, here came Cody, swaggering across the ultra-opulent lobby, a dozen gilt-framed mirrors ricocheting his reflection off every wall. Even if she’d tried, she couldn’t escape the golden streaks in his hair, or the stubbly, sun-kissed jaw. She couldn’t ignore the nut-hugger jeans that served up his package on a plate, or the battered leather jacket, unzipped to display a rain-spattered T-shirt plastered to his paving-stone abs.

Ashley sighed again.

Julie set her teeth. Okay, so he didn’t look like any doctor she’d ever encountered. So what?

Then he ran a hand through his dripping hair, pushing it back from his brow, and her mind’s eye blinked like the shutter on a camera. As clear as a bell, she saw him saunter from her bathroom, towel slung around his hips, wicked smile on his lips, shoving back his wet hair as his honey brown eyes walked the length of her very naked body.

The image was so real, so breathtakingly vivid, that her hand flew to her cheek; she could’ve sworn she felt beard burn.

He pulled up beside her, smiled down into her eyes. “If I knew you’d be here, I’d have brought you a latte.”

His drawl was a feather that whispered over her skin.

Then Ashley butted in. “Cody, the hospital called. They said you weren’t answering your cell.”

It hit Julie like a slap, snapping her out of her spell. The hospital, that’s where he belonged, not barging into her bedroom or her visions.

Taking a
looong
step back in both body and mind, she headed for the door. “I’ll wait outside,” she threw over her shoulder.

“It’s raining,” Cody called after her, but she kept moving, out onto the sidewalk.

Pausing under the awning, she unbuttoned her coat, flapping it open and closed. She was too young for hot flashes. This heat was all Cody.

For three years she’d been frozen up like a glacier. Why was she melting down now, at the wrong time, with the wrong man?

He was a doctor, damn it! He belonged in a white coat, in a dreary office, spewing nonsense to hapless patients who didn’t know better than to trust him. But instead her traitorous body—not to mention her stupid psychic eye—had him stripped down to his birthday suit, waltzing across her bedroom like he owned the place.

No way could she spend the afternoon with him. She’d have to tell him that something came up, she couldn’t help him after all.

But she couldn’t tell him to his face. Oh, no. He’d smile all over her and she’d knuckle under again.

She’d call him, that’s what she’d do. Then there’d be no crinkly eyes, no dimple. No stupid sexy stubble. On the phone she could behave like the mature professional she was.

With a last fleeting glance, she turned her back on the door—and ran.

S
TEPPING OUTSIDE,
C
ODY
glimpsed Julie’s red coat disappearing around the corner. What the hell? He couldn’t have been more than two minutes, and she’d ditched him.

Before he could ask himself why he didn’t just let her go, he took off after her.

She moved fast, but Cody was faster. He might walk like a snail, but he ran like a jaguar, even in cowboy boots. He spotted her going down into the T and he poured on the gas, caught up to her before she shot through the turnstile.

When he touched her arm, she jumped a foot. “What the hell?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” he said. “I turned around and you were gone.”

Her cheeks were flushed. “I-I thought the hospital needed you. That you’d have to go.”

“It’s my first day off in a week,” he said. “It’d take a plane crash to get me back there today.”

“Don’t you have patients? Don’t you think they might need you?”

She sounded pissed, though he couldn’t see why. “I’m an ER doc. I treat traumas. Accidents, gunshots, food poisoning.”

That seemed to befuddle her. “So you don’t have your own patients?”

“No, I treat ’em and pass ’em on.”

She stiffened again. “So you just shunt them through the system? You don’t take responsibility for them, or follow up to see whether they live or die?”

“I keep ’em alive, Julie. That’s my job. Then I move them along to docs who can treat them long term.” He plowed a hand through his dripping hair, spattering raindrops. “Can we get out of this weather? Find someplace warm and talk about what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

Yeah, right.

“Then let’s find someplace warm and get lunch.” He tried the smile, though he was starting to doubt its mojo. She seemed semi-immune to him. One minute she looked like she wanted to eat him up, the next she was trying to dish him off on some other Realtor, or running away from him altogether.

He had to admit she’d caught his interest, but was she really worth all this trouble?

Then she opened her coat, flapped it a few times, and he got an eyeful. Her white silk blouse was wet, glued to her bra and transparent as glass.

He jerked his eyes up to her face before she noticed him staring, but the lacy pattern was burned into his retinas.

He redoubled his efforts.

“Julie, honey,” he drawled, “I been up all night. I’ve got to eat or hit the sheets, one or the other.” A raindrop rolled down her cheek. He thumbed it off, couldn’t resist adding, “You’re welcome to join me for either.”

She rolled her eyes. “Does that line really work?”

“You tell me.”

She flapped her coat again.

He kept his eyes on hers. Rubbed his jaw so the stubble rasped.

She looked away. Fought the demon again. Finally threw up her hands. “There’s a pub around the corner. But no dawdling. I’m giving up my afternoon off for this.”

“Now I feel guilty,” he said as they trotted up the steps to the sidewalk. He pulled off his jacket, held it over their heads. Rain streamed off the edges, washed down their backs. At least Julie had her coat. He was immediately soaked to the skin. “Let’s call it off. Head up to my room for a hot shower.”

She snorted. “I thought you were sick of the hotel and desperate to find a condo? Poor Betsy in the kennel and all that.”

“Betsy’s living large at my brother’s ranch,” he said, tucking her against his side. “And I’m thinking I can put up with the hotel a little longer.”

Hell, if it got Julie out of her wet clothes, he’d put up with it a
lot
longer. He’d plant a fucking flag and call it Texas.

Chapter Four

J
ULIE HAD BEEN
propositioned before. It wasn’t all that unusual.

What was unusual was her overheated reaction to Cody’s invitation.

She’d kept a grip on herself enough to compromise with lunch instead of bed, but as she looped an arm around his waist for the sprint to the pub, she wondered if there was such a thing as compromise with Cody, or if he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

They ducked inside, two drowned rats dripping on the floor. The hostess station was deserted. Julie hung Cody’s jacket and her own drenched coat on hooks. Turned around in time to see him wring out his T-shirt, then flap it a few times. She got a glimpse of his abs, and goose bumps rippled up her arms. She told herself she was chilly.

Then he shook his head like a dog, spattering water off his hair.

She leapt back. “Hey!”

He laughed. Came closer. Opened his arms.

She backed up a step. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’m thinking.”

“I’m serious, Cody.”

“Me too, Julie.” He grinned an evil grin that raised goose bumps again. “I’m gonna get you wet.”

She caught his double meaning. “Don’t,” she said, but her voice snagged on the word.

He took another step. His eyes had gone hot. “Beg me,” he said, his voice gruff now, and deep.

Another step. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her heaving breasts bumped his chest.

“Beg me,” he whispered, locked on her eyes.

Her tongue touched her lips. They were dry.

She was wet.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to her ear. “Julie,” his warm breath fanned her skin, “I’m counting to three. One.” He licked a raindrop from the lobe of her ear. “Two.” He bit down, tugging ever so lightly. “Three.” His arms came around her, crushing her to his sopping chest.

It should have felt awful. Cold and slimy. Instead it felt hot and sweaty and totally awesome. His chest was a wall, his arms iron bands.

And his crotch, well that was just ridiculous. She hadn’t pressed against a hard-on in way too long, but she remembered how it felt, and this was in its own class.

“Cody,” she got out, a feeble protest that sounded more like a give-it-to-me moan.

“Julie,” he growled, buried in her hair. “You smell so fucking good. I could eat you up.”

It hit her veins like straight whiskey. She wriggled and squirmed, not fighting him, but trying to get closer. Every cell, every sinew, even her bones and her breath, all of her strained toward him, begging him, begging him.

He answered with a moan, cupped her ass in his hand. She rose up on her toes, raked her nails down his back.

Then a throat cleared loudly. “Would you like lunch?” an amused female voice asked. “Or would you rather get a room?”

Shocked back to her senses, Julie shoved against Cody’s chest. He let her go in his own sweet time. Asked her the same question with his eyes.

“Lunch,” she answered both of them. She smoothed her skirt. “By the fire, if it’s going.”

In the cozy bar, the hostess waved a hand toward a loveseat by the hearth. In the brick fireplace, flames crackled invitingly. “Silent Night” played through the speakers over the bar, the Irish Rovers giving it a Celtic twist. The red-haired waitress swung by, and Julie asked for hot tea and a scone. Cody ordered two grilled cheese sandwiches, a double salad, and banana cream pie.