Authors: Gail McFarland
“You’re moving, Libby?” Marlea’s lip quivered. “When I need you,” she whispered.
“It won’t be for long. Six months at the most.” Libby reached for the hand that Marlea pulled back against her chest. “If you can hang on for a few months, I’ll be back. You’ll be healed up enough to go back to your own place, and then you can get on with your life and all.”
“Sure.” Marlea nodded. “Sure, I can hang on.”
I mean, what in the world else am I going to do?
“But in the meantime,” Libby said, pointing a stern finger and shaking it for emphasis, “you’ve got to work with Mr. Yarborough.”
Marlea sighed and generally made it plain that she was trying not to feel sorry for herself.
“You’re such a brat, and you know it, don’t you?”
“She’s right, you know.” Parker Reynolds pushed through the door and came over to the bed. “From what I hear, you’ve got decent insurance and a real chance of a solid recovery, but that will do you no good if you ignore the therapy. Oh, and you will have to move out of this room eventually.”
“You’re not funny,” Marlea mumbled.
“I’m not intending to be.” Reynolds stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “The usual stay for a procedure like yours is seven days or less. You’ve been here for, what? Fourteen?”
“Not ’cause I wanted to be. My plans had me up and running…somewhere.”
“Well, if you got on with your therapy, you could at least be walking somewhere.”
“Thank you for your wisdom.” Marlea directed her scowl to Libby, who simply smiled.
“I’m going to get on with my rounds,” Reynolds said softly. “You give some thought as to what your next step is going to be.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Marlea said to his back.
Resisting the urge to say more, Parker let the door close behind him.
“Dr. Reynolds?” The woman’s soft voice made his name more of a statement than a question.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know if you remember us,” the big man stepped forward, offering his hand.
“Ah…” Parker accepted the meaty palm. For some reason, he knew both the man and the slender, bookish woman at his side. Parents or children of a patient?
No, I would have remembered. But they’re so familiar…
And then the faces clicked into context.
“I’m Detective Brighton, and this is my partner, Detective Palmer.”
“Yes.” Parker nodded numbly.
The plain little woman came a step closer. She fished a small notebook from her purse. Then she looked directly into Parker’s face, and her brown eyes were anything but timid. Her gaze was frank and carnivorous—and it gave Parker a deadly cold chill.
“Do you drive a Rolls Corniche? Rolls Royce Tan? Tag number BEST 1?” she asked, her tones clipped and acidic.
Parker Reynolds hesitated, blinking to buy time. “Yes, why?”
“We would like to talk to you about an accident involving your vehicle.”
They know!
Suddenly airless, the hospital corridor seemed to swim around him, and Dr. Parker Reynolds struggled to stay on his feet. “Ah, an accident?”
“Your insurance company was presented with a claim. State law requires that they follow up on the report with a computer listing, and as luck would have it, your paint job matches a sample taken from a hit and run on I-75/85 running through Atlanta.”
“This is about the Corniche? It was stolen—I reported it…”
Right after I left it on the corner of Metropolitan and University, by the takeout chicken restaurant, with the lights on, the engine running, and the doors hanging open.
“I don’t suppose you’ve found it?”
“We’ve found enough of it to draw some conclusions.” The big cop stood back, letting the woman run the show, and Parker almost gagged, remembering the abandonment of his beloved Corniche and Desireé waiting at the wheel of his Lexus.
That had been a mistake, taking her with him. He had known it from the beginning. Yet, there she sat, ready for the caper, dressed in a skin-tight black catsuit and flowing blonde wig. She had insisted on accompanying him, and her logic almost made sense. “Who else you gonna get to drive the getaway car? Your high-society mama ain’t the type, and you don’t know a woman more faithful than me.”
Afraid, knowing she was right, he gave in. Miserable because she was right, he slumped in the passenger seat and waited in the dark.
“Why have you got to go looking like a whipped pup?” Desireé frowned.
“What if…” Parker eyed the wire-thin dark man slinking around the corner of the greasy-windowed restaurant. Two others joined him, and the Corniche quickly became the obvious focus of their attention. Parker slid lower in his seat. “What if nobody takes it?”
“Like that could happen. They’re already skulking around like hungry cats.” Desireé sucked her teeth. “How in the hell does a Nervous Nelly like you go all up inside people and do surgery?”
“That’s different.”
Or at least he had tried to convince himself that it was different. At this moment, looking into the suspicious faces of the two detectives, he wasn’t so sure. The doctor swallowed hard and consciously tried to slow his breathing and his pounding heart. Afraid and waiting, he damned Desireé and hoped that his imaginings would not become reality. “My insurance company should have followed up on my report…”
“Yeah, we saw that report, but our computer scored another hit…”
Chapter 14
He touched her again, and she had to bite her lips to hold back a scream. What she felt would be called ecstasy by most women, especially at the hands of a man like AJ Yarborough. She could see the strong muscles shift in his chest when his hands moved higher and an electric thrill climbed her legs, sending spiced sweetness to a place he had never seen.
Oh, this can’t be right,
she almost moaned aloud. Silently cursing the aphrodisiacal stimulation of the therapy, she looked up into his face.
He hasn’t got a clue
, she realized, holding her breath. When he touched her sole, Marlea nearly wept.
And they wondered why I wanted a female therapist. Maybe that would make this easier…
His fingers moved and, knowing where her body was headed, Marlea’s eyes closed, not wanting to see his face when she reached her undeniable destination.
AJ squeezed and she hoped he wouldn’t see. Marlea hit her zenith like a NASCAR favorite at top speed. Her eyes crossed and her breath was a gasp of impossibility. Sweat leapt from her pores, leaving salty trace rivulets in its wake, and for long seconds, logical thought was a mortal impossibility. Willing her body still, Marlea fought for control. Determined thought saved her from total embarrassment, and she was able to breathe again. She swallowed hard.
Maybe I am better off with him. I don’t know if I could stand a woman g
enerating this kind of…
“You’re looking a little flushed,” AJ said. Stepping back from the massage table, he reached for a white towel and looked at her closely as he wiped his hands. “Feelin’ all right?”
Oh, yeah. Just fine.
“A little tired,” Marlea lied, grateful that the two of them were alone in the therapy room. Pushing up on her elbow, she tried changing the topic. “I’m a trained athlete. Why am I feeling like this? I’ve only been in this place for…how long?”
“It’s not so much the time as it is the lack of activity and the resultant atrophy. You’ve been in bed, not using muscles that you’ve trained to use for most of your life, and coming back after surgery and a significant layoff has a cost,” AJ said.
Marlea’s head drooped. “It’s kind of funny, you know. The same muscles I used to run the 400 are the same ones I need to walk.”
“Pretty much,” AJ agreed, working his strong hands against Marlea’s calf. “Why did you choose the 400?”
“I…my speed didn’t really kick in until after the first 200 meters.” Marlea sucked air, her flesh yielding to his ministrations.
AJ’s thumb found a tender ridge of flesh and followed it. “Ever try any other sports?”
“Other sports?” Marlea’s teeth were on edge. “Look at me. I’m a tall woman, I was a tall girl. Of course they made me play basketball—at least they did until I got old enough to say no.”
“Then you ran?”
“Then I ran.” Marlea held her breath and blinked rapidly.
“They ever try to switch you to hurdles?”
“I ran around them.” Her voice trembled.
“Got to give it to you.” His thumbs tucked into her shin, and he watched her face. “You must have really wanted it, to work so diligently.” The thumbs pressed hard.
Marlea’s breath escaped on a quiver. “You sound like you respect female athletes. Is that like a bedside manner thing?”
“Nope. I played some ball, learned what it takes. I respect passion and hard work in anybody. My sister was heavy into basketball. Nearly made it into the WNBA.”
“Really? Women’s National Basketball Association, huh?”
“Yeah. She had game, but still got cut in the final round. And yeah, she’s good. Earns respect on the court and in the court.” The muscle wasn’t cooperating, and AJ manipulated it to force her calf.
“In the court?” Marlea’s voice rose, then fell an octave when a raw and twisted sensation crawled through her essence.
“She’s a lawyer, and my agent.”
“She sounds like quite a lady.” Marlea grabbed his wrist and squeezed. The moan that escaped her throat was too close to guttural satisfaction, and Marlea bit at her lips to stop the rush of sound. At the back of her thigh, AJ’s hand pressed.
“No!”
Not again! Please don’t do that to me again!
Clutching at him, she snatched her leg away.
“Marlea, come on…”
“I said no!”
Her short nails raked hard against the back of his hand, drawing blood, and AJ jerked against the sudden sting. “That’s three,” he glowered, bringing his face close to hers. “Look, lady…”
“What, man?” Breathing hard, Marlea matched him, pushing her face a breath closer, daring him. “I told you no, and I meant it. What are you going to do about it?”
“I…” To be perfectly honest, if anyone else had asked him, AJ would have been forced to admit that he didn’t know.
Hell, when I came up with that three strikes thing, it was more of a psychological tool than anything else. Now here she is, calling my bluff.
“I…” He looked at her and wanted to strangle her
. Stubborn as she is, nobody would ever blame me. Just look at her!
All that thick, black hair pulled back, revealing the comely oval of her sculpted face and the fiery eyes of a hellion. His eyes checked hers, moved away, and caught on the lush bow of her full lips, the bottom one pooched so provocatively that it forced him to try to read her eyes again.
She’s not giving an inch.
And neither am I
.
Alone in the therapy room, a glaring intimate party of two, laced and bound by frustration, neither of them could look away. The shared moment felt as if it was happening in slow motion, and neither of them could have cared less about the outcome.
Knowing and giving less than half a damn that it wasn’t a generally approved therapeutic practice, AJ reached to cradle her in his arms and was surprised when she didn’t resist. In fact, she seemed curious, if not downright willing, when he pulled her close. Slowly, his lips brushed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. His lips touched hers, awakening something too long dormant.
His embrace answered the erotic fires licking at her body and soothed the anger they had so recently shared. Head tilted, she let her lips find his. Her eyes were wide, watching, but not the least bit timid, and AJ wondered what she was thinking as her eyes closed.
The sudden crush of his lips eased, becoming sweet, tentative, questioning. Quick breath, snatched and only when necessary, passed between them.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, but I’ve come this far…
His eyes closed, blocking everything but the distraction of her lips on his. Her lips parted, leading and encouraging, and AJ fell deeper into the kiss, forgetting why he had begun this.
Unthinking in his arms, Marlea felt more than welcome relief in the surrender of a kiss. Touching him, being held by him, with the clean masculine scent of his bronze skin layered against her own, eased her body. His embrace was a safe haven, a respite from the nerve-driven frenzy that had tormented her. What had gone before was only natural in a man’s arms, and no man had ever held her with more tenderness or compassion.
Acute awareness asserted itself, and Marlea’s eyes opened.
Oh, Lord, what am I doing? I’m sitting up here in this empty room, kissing this man, and…
She pulled away. “You kissed me.”
“I had to get your attention. You used up your three strikes.”
“If that was three, what do I get when I reach four?”
“There is no four,” AJ answered, his lips dangerously close. “There’s just you and me, and your success.” He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “I promised you three strikes—and now, you know that I keep my promises.”
“You promised me something else.”
“That you’ll dance with me.” His face tightened. “I didn’t forget.”
“You and me, huh?” Dropping her eyes, Marlea brushed at an imaginary strand of hair. “Maybe you should keep those promises with someone who can meet you halfway.”
She flinched when the pad of his thumb touched her cheek. “That would be you.”
“Not hardly.” Her eyes met his again, and she tried a small, uneasy smile when his arms fell away.
“We should talk about what just happened.”
“No, Mr. Yarborough, we shouldn’t. We should just treat it like it never happened.” He took a breath, started to speak, and she shook her head. “It’s okay, just a part of the therapy. No harm, no foul, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m ready to go now.” His lips parted again, and she raised her hand to stop him. “Don’t say it. I’ll work with you, but I have to go now. I’ve had all the therapy I can take for one day.”
AJ’s mouth thinned and his eyes stayed on her face. He pulled the wheelchair close and Marlea bit her lips. “I can do it,” she said, watching him. “I don’t need your help; I can do it myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She slipped from the table to the chair and looked up at him. “I’ve got it under control.”
“I hope so, Marlea.” He left her sitting.
Marlea watched the door long after AJ left, her mind wandering past that kiss.
I wonder how many other women he’s kissed like that? As well as he did it, he’s certainly done it before. Wonder how those women responded? Did their legs fall open? Did they say something memorable before they surrendered? Or did they sit in bed when he was finished, because their legs were too weak to support them?
Marlea propped her elbow on the chair’s armrest and dropped her chin into her hand, trapped by question.
He kissed me. Was that kiss supposed to seduce me into working with him, or was it a prelude to something else? Was it pity for a poor cripple? Or was it supposed to make me just another notch on his belt
? she wondered bitterly.
Better his belt than his bedpost, I guess. All he has to do is touch my foot, and my panties get wet.
The ache between her legs reminded her of what it felt like to have him touch her. She sat taller in the chair and instantly regretted the change in pressure. It felt like an echo of coition.
And he wasn’t even trying to turn me on. What would it be like if we were together—really together?
She licked her lips, thinking of the way God designed man and woman and their interlocking body parts.
What if it was real? If he wanted me enough to…
Her body lurched, making her inhaled breath sizzle across her lips and teeth.
Working with AJ Yarborough was going to be a lot harder than expected.
* * *
On the other side of the door, AJ clenched his hands. “Damned unprofessional. How did I let her provoke me?” He paced a few steps, crossed his arms, and paced some more. “Humph, the same way she’s managed to goad me every time we’ve met.
“I guess I just lose my damned mind when it comes to women.” Passing his hand over his closely barbered hair, he changed direction and headed for the employees’ lounge. “Bad enough it took me all that time to get over Bianca, and she’s still trying to push my buttons. Now I get this one. She’s determined to do everything wrong, and I wind up kissing her. What kind of ethics violation is that? Man, I’ve got all the sense God gave a goose.”
“Excuse me.”
AJ almost ran over the corpulent man in the pink Izod shirt. Flanked by a slender woman in a sleeveless yellow cotton dress and two square-built uniformed Atlanta police officers, it was clear the man was in the area for something other than exercise.
“I’m looking for one of the doctors. Parker Reynolds. They said I could find him down here.”
He let his voice rise on the last word so that it sounded like a question, but AJ sensed no question about the group. Something was up. “I saw him about an hour ago. Did you try his office?”
“Told you,” the woman said softly.
“Thanks,” the big man nodded. Motioning to the officers and the woman, he led the group back in the direction they had come from.
Watching them leave, AJ wondered what was going on. And why were they looking for the doctor? But he didn’t wonder long. When his tongue crossed his lips, he tasted Marlea Kellogg and a kiss he couldn’t forget.
* * *
A study in good taste, Parker Reynolds’s spacious office contained everything a successful surgeon’s should. Shelved walls of leather-bound medical texts and state-of-the-art computer equipment were designer-mixed with costly glass-encased antique medical memorabilia. Trendy ergonomic furniture was color-blended to complement framed Henry Ossawa Tanner and Romare Bearden originals. On the floor, costly hand-loomed Persian carpets topped dreary hospital-issued broadloom.
“The good doctor sure knows how to live and work,” Linda Palmer said, as she pushed past the hospital security guard. Her fingertips pressed the door open wider. Gene Brighton peeked over her shoulder.
“You got that right. This place is almost as fly as his crib.”
Palmer put on a sour face as she looked up at her partner. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that in public.”
“Just ’cause I don’t hang out at the clubs doesn’t mean that I ain’t hip. I know cool when I see it, and I can still get my groove on with the best of ’em.”
“Now why did you have to go and put that image into my head?” Palmer shuddered.
“Whatever.” Brighton stepped around his partner. “He’s not here.”
One of the uniformed officers stepped forward. “His secretary just called for him. He should be here directly.” Almost on cue, Parker walked up. The second officer followed.
“Detectives Brighton and Palmer, right?” The doctor looked between the detectives and the blue-uniformed officers. When he looked directly at Brighton, his gaze clouded. Noting the watchful officer behind him, he didn’t offer his hand, but he didn’t try to run, either. “Has anything changed?”
Brighton and Palmer’s eyes met, and Parker almost lost his lunch.
They know!
His eyes went back to the uniformed officers.
Is he pulling out…Oh, God, no…
Brighton curved his thumb over the handcuffs hooked onto his belt and looked almost bored as he pulled them free. “A lot of things have changed, Dr. Reynolds.”
Palmer gave her hair a pat and looked perky, for a change.
He’s got the cuffs, but she’ll be the one
, Parker knew with certainty.