Harlequin Medical Romance December 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (14 page)

“Y-you have?” The thought that he'd been thinking about how to get her out of the dress the entire time at the party made her mouth go dry.

“I have a feeling every man in that room was looking for the same thing, and damning me to hell for being the one to leave with you.”

He was lying. He had to be. The thought that it might be a line he fed to woman after woman made the delicious ache that had been spreading through her belly loosen its grip just a bit.

“I always knew you were a smooth talker.”

A slight frown appeared between his brows, and she thought for a second she might have spoiled things for both of them. “It's the truth, Jess. I don't think I've ever wanted to rush quite as much as I do right now. And yet another part of me is begging me to hold on for as long as possible.”

He leaned down and feathered tiny kisses along the skin he'd been tracing a few seconds earlier. “I think a compromise might be in order,” he continued. “Think we can satisfy both sides?”

As in doing this more than once? “Oh, yes.”

“Zipper?” He came up and stared at her face.

“On the left hand side. It's hidden.”

Fingers walked along her hip, heading up until he reached the side of her breast, his thumb strumming over it, but not quite reaching the most sensitive part. He tugged on something. “Ah, here it is.”

Down the fastener went in a steady, insistent fashion until it was at the upper part of her thigh. Cool air brushed against her. The same digits that had opened the zipper now ran over the skin he'd laid bare.

She couldn't suppress the tiny moan that welled up in her throat.

As if that sound triggered something, Dean stood, staring down at her as he quickly undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt, tugging it free from his trousers and then tossing it over a chair that was beside the bed. When he went for the fastening on his trousers, she wanted to sit up and take over, but to do that would mean the front of her dress would fall to the side and expose her.

Was that so bad?

So she did it, levering herself into a sitting position, one hand gripping the loose body of her dress and holding it against her.

His eyes narrowed for a second, maybe thinking she was drawing things to a halt.

Nope. Not happening. Not at this point.

“I want to do that,” she whispered, eyes on the zipper in front of her. He was hard and ready just beyond that barrier, from the way the fabric bulged to capacity.

“Hmm... I could take that one of any number of ways, but I think we'll leave those delectable options for another time.”

With that, he reached a hand in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “But you can get something ready while I finish what I started.” His teeth flashed white as he referenced her earlier words.

He unzipped, leaving her to hold her dress in place with one hand while she flipped open his wallet to try to find what she knew he wanted. Only her glance kept straying up to where he was now toeing off his shoes.

“Jess, you're not trying very hard.” His trousers dropped to the floor, leaving him just in boxer briefs—black silky fabric probably designed to help his trousers lie flat. No chance of that, because there was nothing “flat” about him right now. “I think you might need two hands.”

Her eyes widened. Just how big was the man?

His chuckle brought her attention back up. “I was talking about the wallet. I think you might need two hands to find what you're looking for.”

Oh, Lord, she was such a ninny. Only if she let go of her dress...

It would serve him right.

She let it drop the same way he'd allowed his trousers to fall away. The shoulder straps kept the garment from sliding completely down, but they did nothing to prevent the one side from baring her breast.

Dean's rough intake of breath said he'd expected her to chicken out. Well, maybe he was going to learn a thing or two about her tonight.

Peeking inside the money compartment, she slammed it closed again when quite a few bills came into view.

“It's there, in the little pocket just below the cards. It's hidden, just like the zipper on your dress.”

Jess tried to concentrate, but it was just so hard when Dean was standing there in a pair of briefs and nothing else. He'd already taken off his undershirt and socks.

There! As he said, it was hidden. At first it looked like a row of stitching, but when she rubbed her thumb over it, it separated. She reached in and found a wrapped condom. Disappointment sloshed through her. Only one. And he'd said...

“There are a couple more in the inner pocket of my trousers.”

Ack! The smile in his voice said he knew exactly what she'd been thinking.

She could think him presumptuous or any number of things, but right now all she felt was glee. He'd hoped this would happen just as much as she had.

“And now there's the little matter of that dress.”

She smiled back up at him feeling like a goon. “And those shorts.”

“Then I suggest we do something about both of those. Right now.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

J
ESS
SAT
UP
, her hair streaming down her naked back, and all Dean could do was stare.

He was still off balance. His skin still felt just as tight. Sleeping with her had changed nothing.

And yet the woman had rocked his world. More than once. More than twice. He'd slipped a couple of extra condoms into the pocket of his tuxedo, in the wild, unlikely chance that he actually got to make love to her. And that was what it had been. Not that first time. Maybe not even the second. But that third slow, heated rush had sent a bolt of realization through his chest.

He loved the woman.

That was why he'd been in such a hurry. Why even after making love to her multiple times, it still wasn't enough.

Those uneasy sensations weren't going to go away. Not now. Not in two weeks. Probably not ever.

Hell! How could he have let this happen?

Maybe it hadn't been a matter of letting it happen. Maybe it was meant to happen. With her and only her.

Why couldn't he find happiness with someone? Did his upbringing preclude that? Did his father really wield that much power, even now?

Maybe not.

Jess tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder and sent him a quick glance, blinking in uncertainty at something she must have seen in his gaze. He whisked away his thoughts. He could figure all of that out later. “Are you okay?”

“Okay?”

“Are you feeling all right?” Wow. He was actually at a loss for words. Impossible. It had never happened before.

Then again, he'd never quite been in this position before, where he hadn't tiptoed out the door at the first opportunity.

She wiggled that delectable bottom for a second as if trying things on for size.

He couldn't stop the smile that came to his face. She'd seemed perfectly happy with his size...and with everything else. Those little cries of pleasure, the way she'd gripped his shoulders as he'd moved above her...

Damn, he could have sworn he'd used up every last one of his wildcards, but she was doing something to him all over again. Casting a spell from which he didn't want to wake.

“I'm feeling a little shaky.”

Ditto, sweetheart.

He sat up as well and kissed the spot where her shoulder met her neck, a place he'd discovered had the ability to make her arch up. Right on cue, she tilted her head and pushed toward his touch, so he increased the pressure, using the sharp edges of his teeth to scrape across the sensitive nerve endings.

“I have to get up for a minute.” She reached across the bed, fingers gripping the dress he'd taken off her.

He circled her wrist with his fingers. “Use my shirt.”

His flesh was tightening all over again, and he was all out of condoms. But he wanted to see her slide her arms through his shirt, knowing she didn't have a stitch on beneath it.

She stood, the muscles of her buttocks curving in a way that made his mouth go dry. She pulled the garment off the chair and slid it on. She threw him a look over her shoulder, her delicate brows arching. “And my shoes?”

“On. Definitely on.” His voice came out rough and gravelly. She'd indulged him, leaving those high sandals on throughout their lovemaking. When she came back to bed, though, he'd unbuckle those delicate straps and take them off, kissing his way across her arches.

You are in a whole lot of trouble here, Dean.

Maybe he should run out to the nearest local store and pick up some more supplies. But there was a little part of him that was afraid if he left now, she would never let him back in.

And he definitely wanted back in.

If he was going to do this, though, he was going to do it right. And that meant making sure she was as taken with him as he seemed to be with her.

“Next time, then, you have to keep your shoes on,” she said.

Dean chuckled and relaxed against the pillows, enjoying watching her totter toward the bathroom, his shirt billowing around the bottom edge of her ass. And since she'd made no move to button the shirt up, he could only imagine what the front of it looked like.

He'd find out when she came back.

And maybe by then he'd figure out how to tell her he wanted more than just one night. Breaking his own hard-and-fast rule about no repeat sex.

He definitely wanted repeats. For as long as she'd give them to him.

* * *

Jess was in the shower when the call came. It was Isabel.

“You need to come to the hospital right now.”

He sat up. “Is there an emergency?”

“It's your father. He's here.”

Damn the man. Couldn't he take a hint? Well, this time he was going to be even more direct. Ugly words came to mind, and he grabbed at them. “Tell him I'm not interested in seeing him.”

He was sorry to have to drag his friends into this mess, but he needed to make sure the man understood that he didn't want him in his life.

“Dean.” Something in Isabel's voice sent a chill up his spine. “You need to come. Right now.”

Her words had him leaping out of bed and looking for his clothes. He could still hear the water running in the shower, but all thoughts of taking up where they'd left off fled. Was his dad drunk again? If so, he should probably have just told Isabel to have the police pick him up and throw him in jail until he sobered up. But he couldn't. Because something inside of him warned him this could be worse. A lot worse.

So much for the man no longer holding any power over him.

He scribbled off a note, telling Jess he'd had an unexpected emergency come up and had to leave. He knew he should knock on the door and say a proper goodbye, but he knew that was what it would be. All the reasons he played things loose and easy came rushing back to him. Not just because his mum and dad had been such train wrecks, but he'd seen what diving into something impulsively could lead to.

Not violence, he would never hit Jess...he wasn't his father. This was about his mum. When she'd left, it had cut him to pieces and left him in a state he never wanted to revisit.

Isabel's phone call served as a chilling reminder of everything that could happen...of everything that
had
happened.

Thank God he'd never said anything to Jess about his thoughts earlier. If he had...

God, if he
had
...

No. This was how it had to be. He would leave the note. Jess would think he was doing what he always did: playing around and then dashing off. It was better for both of them. And hadn't she said she wanted to see what casual sex was like? Well, this was pretty much how it went.

And right now, he hated everything that went along with it.

He dropped the note onto the bedside table knowing that he needn't worry about her locking him out of the house when he left—because he was locking himself out. For good.

* * *

Dean was taking some time off. At least that was what Isabel had said. Jess's emotions ran the gamut. One second she was furious with him. The next, she felt like crying.

She still couldn't believe his dad had committed suicide. He'd parked his rental car behind a building and attached a hose to the exhaust pipe, trapping the other end in the driver's side window. He'd barely been alive when they'd brought him in. But it was only his body—that conglomeration of organ systems. He'd been brain dead. Dean had been the one to ultimately decide to discontinue life support. It had all been over by the time she'd come in to work the next day, thinking the worst and finding it to be true. His note had told her nothing.

Anger swept back over her. After all they'd been through together, he could simply shut her out? Without any hesitation?

Why not? Hadn't Martin done exactly the same thing?

Except she'd believed it would be different for her this time. Somehow.

She'd tried to ring him for hours after she heard the news, but the calls had gone straight to voicemail, and he'd never once rung her back. A week had gone by since he'd left her house...since his father's death and she'd still heard nothing from him.

It would be obvious to any normal person. He didn't want to talk to her.

Why would he? She was no more special than any of the other women he'd been with.

Except she could have sworn...

Shutting down that line of thought, she shifted Marissa in her arms and rocked her, trying to absorb some little measure of comfort.

That was all she wanted to do nowadays. Work and be with this tiny baby. And pray that the hurt would eventually go away.

Please let it go away.

How stupid could she be? She'd done exactly what she'd told herself not to do. She'd fallen in love with the man.

Well, never again.

Dean had told her how he liked his relationships, but had she believed him? No. And here she was, nursing a heart that was in far worse condition than when Martin had left her.

She leaned her cheek against the baby's downy head. “Why can't I just accept it? It's over, Mari.”

Not that it was ever there to begin with.

And those shoes? Buried at the bottom of the rubbish bin, where they belonged. She'd chucked her broken heart in beside them. Only that traitorous organ, unlike the shoes, hadn't stayed buried. It had climbed up and out and was now thumping out a painful rhythm within her chest.

But if she was hurting, she could only imagine what Dean was going through. As much as he'd said he didn't want to see his dad, it had to have been a terrible blow to have him go the way he had. Was he feeling guilty? Relieved? Angry?

She had no idea.

Because Dean didn't let anyone in. Ever.

Oh, she might have fooled herself for a moment or two and thought that he was opening up just a crack. The opening had been minuscule, though, not nearly wide enough for a person to squeeze through. And now he'd slammed it shut again.

Was he alone?

Moisture pricked the backs of her lids. The thought that he might be drowning his sorrows in someone else's arms...

A shaft of pain went through her.

“I don't care.” She whispered the words to her baby niece, rocking a little harder as the infant continued to sleep. Tears spilled over, and she struggled to blot them with her shoulder before the special-care nurse saw her and asked what was wrong.

She couldn't tell her. She couldn't tell anyone.

Everything had gone according to plan. She'd had a fling with the man, just as she'd wanted. And yet here she sat, gutted, because in the end she'd wanted more from him. So much more.

“Jess?”

She started at the voice that came just over her shoulder. Her head jerked toward the sound, and she found her sister standing there. Abbie took one look at her face and knelt beside the rocking chair. “What's wrong?”

In a totally uncharacteristic move, her sister threaded her arm through Jess's elbow and squeezed. “Is it Marissa?” She stared at her baby's closed eyes.

“N-no, she's fine.” Except the words escaped on a half sob.

“Here, let me take her.” The tubes had been removed as Marissa had gotten stronger, so it was just a matter of shifting her into her mum's arms. Abbie sat on the floor, curling her legs beneath her as she held her baby—really held her. She leaned down and breathed her scent as if trying to memorize it, and then kissed her tiny forehead.

This just made Jess's tears come harder. She should be telling her sister to get up off the floor, it wasn't sanitary, but all she could do was stare at them, half in wonder at the change in Abbie and half in pain from what she herself had lost.

You couldn't lose what you never had.
Wasn't that what they said?

Just then, her sister looked up. “I'm so sorry, Jess. For everything I've put you through.”

She had no idea what her sister was talking about. “It doesn't matter.”

It didn't. Her relationship with her sister was the last thing on her mind right now.

“Is there somewhere we can go? Where I can keep holding her, but get some privacy? I need to talk to you.”

The only privacy she wanted right now was the privacy of her own bedroom, where she could sob into her pillows until there was nothing left. Except even that final sanctuary had been invaded. Because everywhere she looked, she saw Dean: how ridiculous he'd looked sitting against those ruffled purple pillow shams—and how absolutely wonderful it had been to have him there.

The tears flowed with no signs of stopping. She took a shuddering breath and tried to force back the tide.

“Wait here.” Somehow her sister managed to get herself up off the floor, still holding her baby, and went over to the nurse. She must have said something because in a minute or two Abbie was back, and, with Marissa still in her arms, led Jess down the hallway to one of the empty rooms.

Abbie sat on the bed and motioned for her to join her. Jess grabbed a couple of tissues from the bedside table and mopped up her eyes. How pathetic was she? Crying over yet another man who didn't want her?

“Tell me.”

Jess looked at her, seeing the dark circles under her sister's eyes, the fact that she wasn't wearing any makeup. Even her hair looked softer and more natural.

She drew herself up tall, knowing the other shoe was eventually going to drop. It always did. Well, this time she wouldn't be drawn into a war of words. She was too tired. Too heartsick. And all of those past problems with her sister were nothing. Nothing, compared to what she was facing.

Sucking in another deep breath, she shook her head. “I think maybe it's you who has something to tell me.”

“Okay, then, I'll go first.” Abbie hesitated, and then looked her in the eye. “Martin and I have separated.”

“What?” Of all the things she might have expected her sister to say, this was not it.

Shifting the baby in her arms, Abbie feathered her fingers across the tiny forehead, down her nose as if she was just now discovering the wonder of the little creature she'd brought into the world.