Turn It Up (7 page)

“Charlie asked me to and I did.”

All it took was the slight emphasis on her name. Stunned understanding dawned in similar eyes and Bastian nodded.
Yes, I did it because I love her that much.

“Did you get her name in a heart?” Girl Groupie Number Two sighed as if that would be a grand romantic gesture.

“No, a caduceus,” Charlie supplied, oblivious to his silent declaration.

“A what?”

“The physician’s winged staff, the one with the snakes around it. Most ambulances have them on the side,” she explained gently to the pretty but dimwitted girl.

“Let’s see it. Unless you got
your
ass tattooed,” Caz goaded.

“It’s on my back, all right?” A protest formed but Charlie was already unbuttoning his shirt. Growling, he finished the job, yanked the shirt down and leaned over her lap. “There. Knock yourself out, Boo.”

He’d chosen only blue ink, the traditional color of healing. Tall as his hand, the slender staff with dual serpents rested on his shoulder blade. Charlie had chosen the design and the placement. What she’d seen as a friendly bonding rite had meant much more to him. It was the day he’d realized he loved her, was in love with her. If she’d asked for her name, he would have gotten it. He’d have even dropped his pants and gotten his ass inked for her.

Caz whistled. “Nice art. Very clean, kind of minimalistic. I like it.”

“Glad it meets with your approval,” Bastian snarled, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. Charlie’s hands smoothed the fabric, slipping each button back into place while holding his eyes. Seduction in reversal, the act was tantalizingly erotic.

“I need to go to bed,” she whispered. The hand sliding down his chest denied her need for sleep.

In a twisted joke of fate, her apartment was closer to the hospital and his house closer to the radio station. They often ended up staying over at one or the other to arrange schedules. With them both sleeping at odd hours, it wasn’t uncommon to go to bed in the afternoon or wake up in the middle of the night. Today, she’d nap here before their show.

“Go ahead. You know where the guest room is.” She’d slept in the same guest room for years. Bastian needed her to continue. He couldn’t take another day lying beside her and not give in to the urge to possess her.

Pink lips pouted. “Guest room? That doesn’t sound like any fun.”

“Guest room, Charlie.” Stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, his tone was gentle but firm.

Wrinkling her nose at him, she climbed from his lap. “Is the Tylenol still in the medicine cabinet?”

“No, but there’s some Excedrin in my desk if you need it.” He grabbed her wrist, silently timing her pulse. It was normal. He waited until her eyes rose to his. “Another headache?”

Her jaw firmed and the smile on her lips froze. “Let it go, Doctor No.”

“Let me take your blood pressure.” He scanned her face, looking for signs of distress. “How’s your vision? Seeing any spots or flashes of light?”

“Stop. You can only play doctor if you do it naked.” A sly look rounded her cheeks. She bent and nuzzled his cheek, her breath washing warm across his ear. “You know, medical studies prove an orgasm is one of the best natural cures for a headache. Didn’t you take an oath to help those in…need?”

Bastian smoothed the stray wisps of hair from her forehead. “I also pledged to do no harm. Take two tablets and pull the blinds. Get some rest, Charlie.”

She stuck her tongue out at him but retreated into the house.

“Interesting,” Caz murmured. “So you two aren’t—”

“No.”

“Masochist.”

Ignoring the jibe, Bastian took his half-full plate to the kitchen. Luci was a dream and had cleaned up most of the mess, but he spent a few minutes adding odds and ends to the dishwasher. A nap sounded pretty good but he was fairly sure Charlie was upstairs in his bed. It would be just like her to disregard his instruction. One part of him leaped with anticipation, the other balked.

Charlie used sex like a weapon, a shield. He’d long ago figured out she was afraid of being hurt so she put it out there, denying to the world she was anything but in control. She implied many more lovers than she’d actually taken, insulation from heartache. Flaunting her beauty prevented anyone from looking deeper, to seeing the woman who just wanted to be loved.

As her friend, he’d filled that spot gladly. Friendships didn’t form overnight, especially not one as strong as theirs. A single moment in time would forever be frozen in his mind as the minute Charlie decided he was worth her trust.

Their relationship had still been new, maybe three months old. He and Lisa had yet another argument before his shift, and his mood was beyond surly by the time he got off duty the next morning. Stopping by Charlie’s apartment for coffee allowed him to avoid going home. In her bathrobe, long legs peeking out, she listened to his pointless story about some patient or another with a knowing look. Halfway through, she’d stood, walked to him and ran her fingers through his hair.

She’d given him the most open invitation for an affair he’d ever imagined.

“Do you want to talk or go to bed with me?”

He’d chosen talk. His wedding band would allow nothing else. But the expression on her face was burned into his mind. She’d been stunned and then touched. The comfort he’d sought was not in her bed but in her heart. He’d valued her more than for what was between her legs. He still did. Somehow he had to convince her that wouldn’t stop if they became lovers.

He wanted sex to be different with them, knew it could if she’d let it.

Fighting a yawn, Bastian climbed the stairs wondering how to approach her, but his bed was empty. Charlie had surprised him. A note perched on his pillow teased him that he didn’t know what he was missing and, just in case he wondered, gave a descriptive blow by blow of what awaited him next door. He knew—in full, aching lust, he knew—but he deliberately lay on his empty bed. Several sets of footsteps reminded him they were not alone in the house and he rose to close the door. He nearly collided with his brother.

By silent agreement after his divorce, Bastian had moved across the landing from his childhood bedroom into the master and remodeled the second story. Caz maintained the other half of the upstairs when at home. Although both sides held a guest room, Caz used his for instrument storage. They rarely ventured to the other’s side so the surprise was natural.

Caz’s eyes flitted across the bedroom to the open door of the master bath. His question was soft. “Charlie?”

“Guest room,” Bastian said, earning a laugh.

“You’re a glutton for punishment. I need your keys. You’re blocking Heidi in.”

“Which one’s Heidi?” Bastian tossed his keys from the dresser.

“Redhead. The blonde’s Amy. And FYI, I’m having company over tonight, so I doubt I’ll be around when you get up later.”

“Which one’s staying?”

Caz raised his eyebrows thoughtfully before giving a shrug. “Don’t know yet. Maybe both.”

“I don’t need to know this,” Bastian groaned, returning to the bed and burying his head under his pillow. “We’ll be out of here by ten. Use latex and be quiet.”

“Uh, yeah, about that…” Caz’s tone turned sheepish. “I came straight from the airport. Got any extra?”

Biting back a lecture, Bastian fished a condom box from the nightstand and threw it to his brother. “Close the door.”

“Sure you don’t want to keep a few in case—”

“Close the door, Boo.”

Chapter Four

“…Time for a break, so sit tight, lovers. Do a Kegel or ten. Doc and I’ll be right back.”

Charlie flicked off the console mike, keyed up the muted station identification music and swiveled to face him. Bastian had a wiseass grin on his face that never boded well. He sported the same look each birthday and Christmas. One of these years she was going to worm her gift out of him early.

“Going to share whatever has tickled your fancy?”

“Later.”

“Later when? Later tonight or later next year?”

Golden brows rose as he ignored her question, his fingers skimming over the laptop keys. Bastian normally kept the Medical Library page pulled up in case he needed a reference point, but tonight’s show hadn’t called for much research. With only twenty minutes left, she couldn’t imagine what he could be looking for until she recognized the station email logo. It was his job to pick the final email reading of the night, so she ignored the computer as the wireless printer surged to life.

“Did you check your station mail cubby?” Charlie asked. He never looked up from the inbox page. “I got the entertainment lineup today for the Summer Kickoff.”

The statement brought his head up with a fast snap. “No. I mean it.”

“I already accepted in both our names.”

He groaned. “Why? You know I don’t want to emcee the damn thing.”

“Because it’s our turn, it’s for charity, and it looks great on a résumé. Besides, anything that will get you in costume is worth it. It’s a few hours. You can tough it out for that long.”

“Fine, whatever. But enough with the crappy-assed costumes.”

“We always wear cute coordinating costumes. They get comments every year.”

“Yeah, and every year you put my ass in a skirt. I want pants this year.”

“When did I put you in a skirt?”

“Pick a year. Last year—”

“I was a harem girl and you were a sheikh.”

“Long skirt and sandals.”

“The year before I was Cleopatra and you were Marc Antony.”

“Short skirt with a sword.”

“Ha. The first year I was Maid Marian and you were an adorable Robin Hood. No skirt there.”

“Charlie, I’m never wearing tights again. Either you pick a costume with pants or so help me, I’m going in scrubs. Here’s a thought, how about we go as late-night sex jockeys? No costumes required.”

“But I thought we could go as Tarzan and Jane. A loincloth is not a skirt.”

Shock value was priceless. He stared at her with undiluted fear as she keyed up their theme music. The blinking red light stole any words he might have wanted to throw at her. Wiggling her eyebrows at him changed the fear into a promise of retribution.

“Welcome back, lovers. Did you miss us? Doc is sitting here with his mouth hanging open so let’s give him a second to recover. When I blow his mind, it takes things a while to come back online. Caller, you’re here with Doc and Honey, what can we help you with?”

“Yeah, I got a question for you, Honey.”

“You got me, baby. What’s your name?”

“Uh, Mike. My new girlfriend and I are just getting together, ya know. But she’s a little shy in the bedroom. I want to make things happen but she won’t tell me what she wants. She just says anything I want. How do I make her talk to me?”

His eyes snagged hers and they smiled over the dual microphones. Bastian nodded and Charlie took point.

“If she won’t talk, you have to listen harder, Mike. If you’re doing anything right, she’ll make some sound, a whimper or a moan. When you hear it, keep doing what you’re doing. Go slow, go easy and let her know there’s no rush. Put yourself on the back burner, make the night about her, her pleasure, her orgasm. Talk to her, Mike, keep asking her if she likes it. Most women can give you a simple yes or no. And no means no. Just remember there are more erogenous zones than her breasts and her vagina. Try her neck, the backs of her knees, her belly button, anyplace. Something will get you a reaction.”

Before she’d leaned back, Bastian had leaned forward, their movements coordinated from familiarity. He’d shunned a headset microphone early in their dual career so she rarely wore hers during the show to put their voices on an even platform. “Even” did not do justice to his voice. It spilled into the air like hot buttered rum.

“Pay attention, Mike. Use your eyes. There will be some physical sign, a skin flush or a change in breathing pattern. Her nipples might peak or the lubrication might increase. Her eyes will tell you a lot unless she keeps them closed. Even then, she may squint or raise her eyebrows, make a face of some sort. Sit and watch, my man. An aroused woman is a thing of beauty. Knowing you did it is a power high.”

Charlie stared at Bastian in awe. Sometimes he amazed her. She forced her mind back to the caller. “Mike, the best thing you can do is talk to her outside the bedroom, over dinner or when driving, anyplace she’s relaxed and doesn’t feel immediate pressure. Just tell her you want to make your sex life the best you can but she has to help you. Talk is foreplay. Use it. Good luck, lover.”

Closing the phone line, Charlie brushed a stray hair from her face and caught her partner’s grin. She flirted with the airwaves still open.

“A thing of beauty, huh? Mighty poetic tonight, aren’t you?”

“I’m with you, Honey. That’s enough to inspire poetry in the hardest of hearts. Besides, it’s true. An aroused woman is a beautiful thing.”

“Now, see, I’m not too sure about that. Orgasms cause some seriously painful-looking faces.”

His deep laugh filled the radio room. “That may be, but it’s just the intensity of release. Like jumping off a cliff. You’re not going to be smiling when you hit the ground but the flight down is fantastic.”

“Hit the ground? Dang, Doc, what kind of women are you hanging out with if you equate an orgasm with pulling a Wile E. Coyote off a cliff?”

“Honey, I’m on sexual sabbatical so I’m pulling from memory here. Cut me a break. Take a call.”

“Chicken. All right then, caller, you’re on the air with Doc and Honey. What can we help you with, sugar?” Static buzzed for a few seconds and both their eyes flew to the control room. From behind glass, Justine shrugged. The line was open. “You there, lover?”

“Yeah, I want to talk to Doc.”

She sounded so scared. Tension crept steadily into the room as Bastian pulled the mike closer to his face. Some callers had serious issues that couldn’t be addressed on the radio, and most inevitably asked for the doctor. Many, like this one, sounded young.

“I’m here, sweetie. What’s your name?”

“Lanie.”

“Lanie, what can I do for you?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”