Only Yours
Page 9
“I don’t think coming to dinner tomorrow is a good idea,” he said. “I’m not the family type.”
She didn’t know very much about him. Finding out he was an only child practically doubled her knowledge pool. But sometimes she was good at guessing about people. Her gut told her Simon spent most of his life alone, even when he was around others.
“There’s no entrance exam. It’s dinner. You’ve done dinner before.”
One corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were going to smile. A flicker of anticipation danced through her.
“Besides,” she continued, “you need a family dinner. It will do you good. Make you less stuffy.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“Sometimes. But not in a bad way.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Because there’s a good stuffy?”
“Maybe. It can work if you’re British.”
Now he did smile. His whole face changed as the amusement turned him from merely handsome to completely irresistible. She supposed some women would be put off by his scars, but she barely noticed them.
“I don’t do a very good accent,” he admitted. “Although I have a friend who’s British.”
“You should practice the accent. Because women really love that. Not that the doctor thing isn’t working for you.”
“The doctor thing?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. There you are, a good-looking doctor. Better yet, a surgeon. You’re like catnip.”
The smile faded. He stared at her with an intensity that made her want to take a step back. She knew she’d said something wrong, but couldn’t figure out what it was. She didn’t think he was mad, exactly. But he was—
He reached for her. His large, strong hands cupped her face, his thumbs lightly caressing her cheekbones. Then he was kissing her, his mouth on hers, claiming her with the passion she remembered from their last kiss.
She was less startled this time, more ready to step closer and lose herself in the feel of his lips against hers.
The heat was familiar, as was the need that rushed from him to her. She surrendered more quickly, putting her hands on his shoulders, then tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss.
She inhaled the scent of skin and night and the faint smell of the dinner she’d brought him. He tasted of coffee and mint. Stubble lightly scraped against her skin.
She was aware of the smooth wool of his suit jacket, the breadth of his shoulders, the tension in his muscles. Then he parted his lips and his tongue swept in to claim her.
It was exactly as she remembered, she thought happily as desire flooded her. The erotic dance, the way he kissed her, as if desperate and starving. She answered stroke for stroke, letting his kiss sweep her away because getting lost had never felt so right.
He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her hard against him. She felt the strength of his body and had a vision of them na**d together. Skin on skin. She shivered, her br**sts becoming more sensitive, her ni**les getting tight. Heat pooled in her belly before slipping lower.
He dropped his hands to her hips. His fingertips lightly grazed the curve of her butt. Her belly came into contact with his groin and she felt his erection.
She instantly wanted to touch him. No, that wasn’t it. She wanted to be on her back, na**d, ready. She wanted his mouth everywhere.
The images were so real, for a second she thought she had begged to be taken, standing there in the parking lot. Instead of being embarrassed, she wanted to grab his hands and place them on her br**sts or between her legs.
She’d been kissed before, had made love before, but she’d never been so…hungry.
Without warning, Simon stepped back. His breathing was ragged and his expression stark with passion. If he asked her back to his hotel, she wasn’t sure she could say no. Having sex with someone she barely knew wasn’t exactly the wisest thing to do, regardless of how good it would feel.
But he didn’t ask. He apologized. If one could call it that.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly. Then he turned from her and got in his car. As she watched, he started the engine, then drove away.
“A hit-and-run kisser,” she whispered when she was alone. A dangerous man. She would have to be more careful when it came to Simon Bradley. He was the kind of man who could easily break her heart.
CHAPTER SIX
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, SIMON stood in the center of his hotel room, not sure what to do. He didn’t usually allow himself to be indecisive. In his line of work, decisions had to be made quickly. He’d learned to trust his instincts, to believe that his training and his ability would guide him. But this wasn’t surgery. This was regular life and he’d never done very well there.
He fully expected Montana to have given her mother some reason why he couldn’t show up. After what had happened yesterday, there was no way she would be waiting for him in the hotel lobby. He hadn’t just kissed her, he’d claimed her. Once again he’d been unable to resist, and this time she’d felt the proof of what she did to him. His inability to restrain himself humiliated him, yet he knew if given the chance he would do it again.
He glanced at his watch. It was nearly four. He’d gone to all the trouble of arranging to leave the hospital early. Either he went through with the damn meal or he went back to work. Compelled by a force he couldn’t explain, he made his way downstairs. Even if she didn’t show up, he owed it to her to be waiting. It would be his penance.
But when he stepped into the lobby, she was all he saw. Her long golden-blond hair, tumbling across her shoulders. The pale blue sundress that left her arms and legs bare. She was beautiful and sexy and he wanted her with a desperation that robbed him of speech.
He saw other men glancing at her and wanted to step between them and her. He wanted to announce to all the world that she was his and no one else could have her. The primitive need shocked him. He wasn’t that man. He was always in control.
Except with her.
She saw him and smiled, then walked toward him. Her h*ps swayed, enticing him. Every movement was sensual, a siren’s call to pleasure.
“Look at you, wearing jeans again. You’re doing it to mess with my head, aren’t you? We both know you’re much more the suit type.”
Because that was how she saw him. What was it she had said? That he had a stick up his ass?
“About yesterday,” he began.
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare apologize. You can’t kiss like that and then say you’re sorry. Because if you really are sorry, I’ll have to punch you hard in the stomach. I’ve accepted that you’re a hit-and-run kisser. Luckily for you, you’re the best one around.”
“There are others?”
She laughed. “No. Just you.”
He could see she wasn’t angry. If anything, she was teasing him. He’d hoped she enjoyed kissing him. She’d kissed him back—he’d felt her response. But he didn’t know if he’d taken it too far. While that wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, her acceptance made him feel a little better.
She placed her hand on his chest. He supposed it was casual, or at least intended to be. But he felt the heat of her touch burning down to his soul.
“You should do that more often,” she said, staring up at him.
“Kiss you?”
She laughed. “That’s not what I meant, but maybe. I was talking about you smiling. You don’t smile very much. I suppose that comes from being a very serious man.”
In her world, was being serious good or bad? He had a feeling it would fall on the bad side and wanted to tell her he could be as much fun as the next guy. But he knew he was wrong. All the fun had been burned out of him a long time ago.
She dropped her hand to her side. For a moment he wanted to protest, telling her that he needed the physical contact between them. Instead he said nothing.
“Come on,” she said. “Everyone in my family is waiting to treat you like the hero you are.”
“I’m not a hero,” he said, following her out of the hotel lobby. Far from it.
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he wanted things to be different. He saw the world around him and wanted what other people had. Connection. What was that old saying? No point in howling for the moon.
“You’re a hero to us,” she told him.
They stepped out into the warm afternoon. The sidewalk was surprisingly crowded with families and couples talking as they walked. From the little he’d seen of the town, it was an open, friendly place. Like something out of a movie or a sitcom. Not that it tempted him. When his time here was finished, he would be moving on.
Montana made her way to a beat-up Subaru wagon. A few dings scarred the doors and the paint wasn’t very shiny, but what caught his attention was the large dog in the back. He recognized the big eyes, the slobbery grin and the sweeping tail with nearly magical powers of wreaking havoc.
He stopped beside the car. “It’s that dog.”
“You don’t have to say it like she has a disease. Yes, this is Fluffy. You probably remember her from that little incident at the hospital.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Little incident?”
“What would you call it?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Montana sighed. “I have already admitted I overestimated Fluffy’s ability to change. She’s a happy, exuberant dog and most of the time that’s a good thing. Just not so much for therapy. I’m taking her with us because I want her to meet Kent and Reese. Kent has been thinking about getting them a dog. Fluffy would make a great pet.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you dare say anything.”
“I’m sure Fluffy would make a great pet.” As long as the dog never got onto his ward again, he would be happy.
“Oh.” She unlocked the doors.
He slid into the passenger seat. Fluffy lunged toward him, but Montana told her to stay in the back.
“Kent and Reese have been going through a bad time. Reese’s mom took off about a year ago.” Montana started the engine, then glanced at him. “She just left. What kind of mother does that? She rarely sees Reese. Kent said she barely calls, but when she suddenly gets an itch to play mom, she expects Kent to drop everything and bring Reese to her. I don’t think that dog can take the place of his mother, but sometimes unconditional love can really help.”
Simon thought of his own mother. Compared to her actions, leaving would have almost been kind. But Montana wouldn’t know much about the monsters in life. She’d been spared, and he found he was pleased by that. He didn’t want her to know what life could really be like.
“I didn’t tell Cece that Fluffy was coming with us,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t want them fighting.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “She really has a thing for you. It’s so cute.”
He thought about the small poodle. She wasn’t a bad dog and seemed to do well with Kalinda, which he appreciated. “I think you’re giving her too much credit.”
“You only say that because you don’t know her. Just wait. Cece is going to win you over.”
Before he could respond, she began pointing out the various sites in Fool’s Gold. They drove by the park and through the small downtown before turning into a residential neighborhood.
From what he could tell, the houses were older but well maintained. Large trees and green lawns gave the neighborhood an idyllic air. A few bicycles leaned against porches. He supposed this was normal for a lot of people. Middle America. The kind of place where most kids grew up, or at least imagined growing up. He’d never experienced anything like it. His life with his mother had been spent in a series of small apartments in grim neighborhoods. He’d spent his teen years in hospitals.
No doubt many of his patients lived in houses like this, but he never visited them there. He made it a point to keep his work separate. He didn’t want to know them more personally than necessary. In fact, he had never accepted an invitation to someone’s home. This was a first. And it wasn’t because he wanted to get to know the Hendrix family. It was all about Montana.
She parked in front of one of the houses. It looked freshly painted and the roof was new. The yard well cared for. There were already several cars in the driveway. As he got out of the car, he braced himself to once again deal with people he didn’t know. Not his strong suit, he thought grimly.
Montana let Fluffy out of the back and quickly clicked the leash onto her collar. Even so, the large dog practically dragged her toward the porch. Before they got there, the front door burst open and people spilled out.
“Welcome,” Denise said, hurrying toward them. She held her arms open.
He wanted to take a step back, to turn away, to make his excuses. But everything happened too fast. Denise embraced him, holding on as if she would never let go.
“He came home this morning,” she said as she hugged him tight. “Just like you said. He’s going to be fine and it’s because of you.” Still holding on to both his upper arms, she stepped back and looked at him. “I want to spend the next several hours thanking you, but that might make you uncomfortable. So I’m going to say it now and try to let it go. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt.
She linked arms with him and led him toward the waiting family.
He remembered Kent from the previous day. After they shook hands, he was introduced to Ethan, the oldest of the six children, and Ethan’s wife, Liz. Next up were the remaining triplets, Dakota and Nevada.
She didn’t know very much about him. Finding out he was an only child practically doubled her knowledge pool. But sometimes she was good at guessing about people. Her gut told her Simon spent most of his life alone, even when he was around others.
“There’s no entrance exam. It’s dinner. You’ve done dinner before.”
One corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were going to smile. A flicker of anticipation danced through her.
“Besides,” she continued, “you need a family dinner. It will do you good. Make you less stuffy.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“Sometimes. But not in a bad way.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Because there’s a good stuffy?”
“Maybe. It can work if you’re British.”
Now he did smile. His whole face changed as the amusement turned him from merely handsome to completely irresistible. She supposed some women would be put off by his scars, but she barely noticed them.
“I don’t do a very good accent,” he admitted. “Although I have a friend who’s British.”
“You should practice the accent. Because women really love that. Not that the doctor thing isn’t working for you.”
“The doctor thing?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. There you are, a good-looking doctor. Better yet, a surgeon. You’re like catnip.”
The smile faded. He stared at her with an intensity that made her want to take a step back. She knew she’d said something wrong, but couldn’t figure out what it was. She didn’t think he was mad, exactly. But he was—
He reached for her. His large, strong hands cupped her face, his thumbs lightly caressing her cheekbones. Then he was kissing her, his mouth on hers, claiming her with the passion she remembered from their last kiss.
She was less startled this time, more ready to step closer and lose herself in the feel of his lips against hers.
The heat was familiar, as was the need that rushed from him to her. She surrendered more quickly, putting her hands on his shoulders, then tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss.
She inhaled the scent of skin and night and the faint smell of the dinner she’d brought him. He tasted of coffee and mint. Stubble lightly scraped against her skin.
She was aware of the smooth wool of his suit jacket, the breadth of his shoulders, the tension in his muscles. Then he parted his lips and his tongue swept in to claim her.
It was exactly as she remembered, she thought happily as desire flooded her. The erotic dance, the way he kissed her, as if desperate and starving. She answered stroke for stroke, letting his kiss sweep her away because getting lost had never felt so right.
He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her hard against him. She felt the strength of his body and had a vision of them na**d together. Skin on skin. She shivered, her br**sts becoming more sensitive, her ni**les getting tight. Heat pooled in her belly before slipping lower.
He dropped his hands to her hips. His fingertips lightly grazed the curve of her butt. Her belly came into contact with his groin and she felt his erection.
She instantly wanted to touch him. No, that wasn’t it. She wanted to be on her back, na**d, ready. She wanted his mouth everywhere.
The images were so real, for a second she thought she had begged to be taken, standing there in the parking lot. Instead of being embarrassed, she wanted to grab his hands and place them on her br**sts or between her legs.
She’d been kissed before, had made love before, but she’d never been so…hungry.
Without warning, Simon stepped back. His breathing was ragged and his expression stark with passion. If he asked her back to his hotel, she wasn’t sure she could say no. Having sex with someone she barely knew wasn’t exactly the wisest thing to do, regardless of how good it would feel.
But he didn’t ask. He apologized. If one could call it that.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly. Then he turned from her and got in his car. As she watched, he started the engine, then drove away.
“A hit-and-run kisser,” she whispered when she was alone. A dangerous man. She would have to be more careful when it came to Simon Bradley. He was the kind of man who could easily break her heart.
CHAPTER SIX
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, SIMON stood in the center of his hotel room, not sure what to do. He didn’t usually allow himself to be indecisive. In his line of work, decisions had to be made quickly. He’d learned to trust his instincts, to believe that his training and his ability would guide him. But this wasn’t surgery. This was regular life and he’d never done very well there.
He fully expected Montana to have given her mother some reason why he couldn’t show up. After what had happened yesterday, there was no way she would be waiting for him in the hotel lobby. He hadn’t just kissed her, he’d claimed her. Once again he’d been unable to resist, and this time she’d felt the proof of what she did to him. His inability to restrain himself humiliated him, yet he knew if given the chance he would do it again.
He glanced at his watch. It was nearly four. He’d gone to all the trouble of arranging to leave the hospital early. Either he went through with the damn meal or he went back to work. Compelled by a force he couldn’t explain, he made his way downstairs. Even if she didn’t show up, he owed it to her to be waiting. It would be his penance.
But when he stepped into the lobby, she was all he saw. Her long golden-blond hair, tumbling across her shoulders. The pale blue sundress that left her arms and legs bare. She was beautiful and sexy and he wanted her with a desperation that robbed him of speech.
He saw other men glancing at her and wanted to step between them and her. He wanted to announce to all the world that she was his and no one else could have her. The primitive need shocked him. He wasn’t that man. He was always in control.
Except with her.
She saw him and smiled, then walked toward him. Her h*ps swayed, enticing him. Every movement was sensual, a siren’s call to pleasure.
“Look at you, wearing jeans again. You’re doing it to mess with my head, aren’t you? We both know you’re much more the suit type.”
Because that was how she saw him. What was it she had said? That he had a stick up his ass?
“About yesterday,” he began.
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare apologize. You can’t kiss like that and then say you’re sorry. Because if you really are sorry, I’ll have to punch you hard in the stomach. I’ve accepted that you’re a hit-and-run kisser. Luckily for you, you’re the best one around.”
“There are others?”
She laughed. “No. Just you.”
He could see she wasn’t angry. If anything, she was teasing him. He’d hoped she enjoyed kissing him. She’d kissed him back—he’d felt her response. But he didn’t know if he’d taken it too far. While that wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, her acceptance made him feel a little better.
She placed her hand on his chest. He supposed it was casual, or at least intended to be. But he felt the heat of her touch burning down to his soul.
“You should do that more often,” she said, staring up at him.
“Kiss you?”
She laughed. “That’s not what I meant, but maybe. I was talking about you smiling. You don’t smile very much. I suppose that comes from being a very serious man.”
In her world, was being serious good or bad? He had a feeling it would fall on the bad side and wanted to tell her he could be as much fun as the next guy. But he knew he was wrong. All the fun had been burned out of him a long time ago.
She dropped her hand to her side. For a moment he wanted to protest, telling her that he needed the physical contact between them. Instead he said nothing.
“Come on,” she said. “Everyone in my family is waiting to treat you like the hero you are.”
“I’m not a hero,” he said, following her out of the hotel lobby. Far from it.
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he wanted things to be different. He saw the world around him and wanted what other people had. Connection. What was that old saying? No point in howling for the moon.
“You’re a hero to us,” she told him.
They stepped out into the warm afternoon. The sidewalk was surprisingly crowded with families and couples talking as they walked. From the little he’d seen of the town, it was an open, friendly place. Like something out of a movie or a sitcom. Not that it tempted him. When his time here was finished, he would be moving on.
Montana made her way to a beat-up Subaru wagon. A few dings scarred the doors and the paint wasn’t very shiny, but what caught his attention was the large dog in the back. He recognized the big eyes, the slobbery grin and the sweeping tail with nearly magical powers of wreaking havoc.
He stopped beside the car. “It’s that dog.”
“You don’t have to say it like she has a disease. Yes, this is Fluffy. You probably remember her from that little incident at the hospital.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Little incident?”
“What would you call it?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Montana sighed. “I have already admitted I overestimated Fluffy’s ability to change. She’s a happy, exuberant dog and most of the time that’s a good thing. Just not so much for therapy. I’m taking her with us because I want her to meet Kent and Reese. Kent has been thinking about getting them a dog. Fluffy would make a great pet.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you dare say anything.”
“I’m sure Fluffy would make a great pet.” As long as the dog never got onto his ward again, he would be happy.
“Oh.” She unlocked the doors.
He slid into the passenger seat. Fluffy lunged toward him, but Montana told her to stay in the back.
“Kent and Reese have been going through a bad time. Reese’s mom took off about a year ago.” Montana started the engine, then glanced at him. “She just left. What kind of mother does that? She rarely sees Reese. Kent said she barely calls, but when she suddenly gets an itch to play mom, she expects Kent to drop everything and bring Reese to her. I don’t think that dog can take the place of his mother, but sometimes unconditional love can really help.”
Simon thought of his own mother. Compared to her actions, leaving would have almost been kind. But Montana wouldn’t know much about the monsters in life. She’d been spared, and he found he was pleased by that. He didn’t want her to know what life could really be like.
“I didn’t tell Cece that Fluffy was coming with us,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t want them fighting.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “She really has a thing for you. It’s so cute.”
He thought about the small poodle. She wasn’t a bad dog and seemed to do well with Kalinda, which he appreciated. “I think you’re giving her too much credit.”
“You only say that because you don’t know her. Just wait. Cece is going to win you over.”
Before he could respond, she began pointing out the various sites in Fool’s Gold. They drove by the park and through the small downtown before turning into a residential neighborhood.
From what he could tell, the houses were older but well maintained. Large trees and green lawns gave the neighborhood an idyllic air. A few bicycles leaned against porches. He supposed this was normal for a lot of people. Middle America. The kind of place where most kids grew up, or at least imagined growing up. He’d never experienced anything like it. His life with his mother had been spent in a series of small apartments in grim neighborhoods. He’d spent his teen years in hospitals.
No doubt many of his patients lived in houses like this, but he never visited them there. He made it a point to keep his work separate. He didn’t want to know them more personally than necessary. In fact, he had never accepted an invitation to someone’s home. This was a first. And it wasn’t because he wanted to get to know the Hendrix family. It was all about Montana.
She parked in front of one of the houses. It looked freshly painted and the roof was new. The yard well cared for. There were already several cars in the driveway. As he got out of the car, he braced himself to once again deal with people he didn’t know. Not his strong suit, he thought grimly.
Montana let Fluffy out of the back and quickly clicked the leash onto her collar. Even so, the large dog practically dragged her toward the porch. Before they got there, the front door burst open and people spilled out.
“Welcome,” Denise said, hurrying toward them. She held her arms open.
He wanted to take a step back, to turn away, to make his excuses. But everything happened too fast. Denise embraced him, holding on as if she would never let go.
“He came home this morning,” she said as she hugged him tight. “Just like you said. He’s going to be fine and it’s because of you.” Still holding on to both his upper arms, she stepped back and looked at him. “I want to spend the next several hours thanking you, but that might make you uncomfortable. So I’m going to say it now and try to let it go. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt.
She linked arms with him and led him toward the waiting family.
He remembered Kent from the previous day. After they shook hands, he was introduced to Ethan, the oldest of the six children, and Ethan’s wife, Liz. Next up were the remaining triplets, Dakota and Nevada.
