The Devil Inside (10 page)

Breathing heavily, she levered off him so she was sitting upright, still straddling his thighs. Reaching down, she grasped the edge of her shirt and started to raise it.

Only to freeze when the buzzing of the doorbell split the silence.

“
Fuck.
” Cody slapped a hand over his eyes. “Dr. Miller?”

“I’m afraid so.” Sam gave a shaky laugh and jumped off the bed.

The way Cody felt right now, that wasn’t too far off.

“I’ll, uh, stall him for a minute,” she said, her gaze darting everywhere in the room except toward him. “Excuse me.”

Then she was gone, probably straightening her clothes and willing her heartbeat to slow down.

While he had a couple of minutes, give or take, to tame his erection into submission. Otherwise, Dr. Miller was going to see more than he bargained for in his exam.

Great.

At least he could take comfort in the fact that there was no way in hell he was ever going to forget he had kissed Sam Quincannon again.

***

“Dr. Miller! Thanks so much for coming over to see Cody.” Sam held onto the edge of the door like it was a life preserver. Heaven knew she felt like she was drowning.

A quick stop in the bathroom on the way down the hall to the front door had proved what she suspected—she looked like someone who’d been on the verge of hot monkey sex when the doorbell interrupted them. She’d pulled the ponytail holder out in a vain attempt to make her hair look artfully and deliberately mussed, rather than tousled from a makeout session, and splashed a little water on her face.

There was little she could do about her rapidly beating heart or the breath still panting in and out of her lungs.

Or the telltale moisture between her legs.

Luckily, that wasn’t visible to all and sundry.

Squeezing her thighs together, she gestured Dr. Miller into the apartment.

“How’s the patient?”

Hot. Sexy. Too damn tempting.

“Doing better,” she said, closing the door behind him. “He seems to be healing well.”

“No concussion issues at the moment?”

“Nothing of significance.” She headed down the hall to the bedroom, hoping Cody had recovered by now. “Apart from some initial short-term memory lapses, he’s been doing very well.”

“You telling stories on me again?” Cody was sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard. The comforter was pulled up to his waist, bunching a little there. Despite herself, Sam bit back a smile at his attempt at camouflage.

Dr. Miller probably wouldn’t notice. But by the gleam in Cody’s eye, it was clear that he knew she’d picked up on it.

He turned his attention to Dr. Miller, which was probably a good thing. “I forgot a couple of things at first, but haven’t had that problem since early on.”

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Miller set down his little black bag—a wink-and-a-nod reference to his old-time habit of offering house calls when needed—and took out his stethoscope. “Traumatic brain injury can cause temporary memory loss. I’m glad to hear it was of short duration, though.”

“Traumatic brain injury?” Cody winced. “Can’t we just go back to calling it a concussion? It doesn’t sound quite so dangerous.”

“It certainly could have been, son.” Dr. Miller took a penlight out of his shirt pocket and twisted it on, checking Cody’s pupils. “You’re very lucky.”

If Sam hadn’t been looking at Cody at that moment, she wouldn’t have caught his quick glance. “Yes, I am,” he said.

Oh, man. She sucked in a breath. What in the world did he mean by that?

And why did she feel the same way?

“I think you’re cleared to leave the bedroom,” Dr. Miller announced, tucking away his medical equipment. “I wouldn’t go farther than this apartment for at least one more day, though. And no travel until Friday at the earliest. Give yourself time to recuperate.”

“What about competing?” Cody’s voice was casual, almost blasé, but Sam could sense the urgency behind his question.

To her relief, Dr. Miller was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry, son. I know you’re in the hunt for Nationals, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to put that dream aside for now. Maybe next year.”

A muscle ticking in his jaw was the only sign of Cody’s distress. “Next year.”

“Unfortunately, yes. You shouldn’t ride for at least a month, to give your head time to heal completely. By then, it’ll be almost impossible to earn enough points to make the finals.”

Cody fisted a hand on top of the comforter. “But after a month, I could try. Right?”

Sam held her breath, hoping for the right answer.

“I suppose. You’ll want to check with your own doctor, of course. But I’d advise against it.”

Her heart sank. There was just enough wiggle room in that statement, and Cody was just stubborn enough to use it. He’d be back on the circuit the minute that month was up.

Dammit! She should never have brought him home, recuperation or no recuperation.

He was going to break her heart all over again.

***

Dr. Miller may have been a perfectly nice person. After all, he’d come over to Sam’s apartment before his shift started just so he could check on Cody’s injuries.

And he wasn’t the type to breeze in and breeze out. No, he wanted to be sure that Cody was recuperating well.

Which meant conversation, and checking of injuries, and more conversation.

Cody gritted his teeth and waited impatiently for the man to just go, already.

On the bright side, he’d given him the go-ahead to get out of this bed from time to time. On the negative, he’d pretty much killed Cody’s hopes for reaching Nationals this year.

And yeah, it could have been so much worse. He could have been dead, or permanently disabled from the accident. He could have been saying goodbye to bullriding forever, instead of just one year.

But damn, he was so close. Another couple of regional events, and he would have been able to stay in the top fifteen. Another year was too long to wait.

He’d proven the naysayers wrong before. He could do it again.

All but tapping his fingers on the comforter, he turned his attention back to Dr. Miller, who was apparently giving Sam some additional directions. “And be sure to let me know if you see any more signs,” he admonished.

More signs of what, Cody almost asked, but decided he really didn’t want to know. There was only so much bad news a guy could take in a day.

Sam nodded, her face tight with tension. From the moment Dr. Miller had shown up, she’d been pulling into herself, closing off more and more, until she was almost unrecognizable from the panting, wanton sex goddess who’d been straddling his lap fifteen minutes before.

It was all well and good to be off bed rest. But he’d give that up if it meant convincing Sam to join him under the sheets.

He’d been fooling himself if he thought they were just friends, people who’d known one another years ago. From the moment he’d woken up in her apartment, he’d been craving her touch, the feel of her skin against his.

And to have been so close, just moments away from sinking into the warm heat of her body, only to have it snatched away, was putting him in the mother of all bad moods.

He spoke without thinking. “What about—other activities?”

Both Dr. Miller and Sam looked at him in surprise, their conversation interrupted.

“Other activities?” Dr. Miller steepled his fingers together. “Such as?”

Sam shot him a death ray glare behind Dr. Miller’s back. Clearly, she was following the direction of his thoughts and not exactly thrilled about it.

“You know, physical activity. I’m not used to spending so much time on my back.”

Sam choked a little at that one. Dr. Miller turned to her, his expression concerned. “Are you all right, my dear?”

“Fine.” She waved him off. “Just—tell this fool that he needs to take care of himself.”

“This fool knows that,” Cody said. “I’m not going to take any chances. I just want to know what my limitations are.”

“Well, you certainly shouldn’t be going out dancing tonight,” Dr. Miller admonished. “You need to rest and recuperate.”

“Good advice,” Sam added, all but wagging a finger at him.

“On the other hand, you’re healing nicely. There aren’t any internal injuries to worry about, and the concussion isn’t an issue beyond the no-travel rule.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open, only to snap shut when Dr. Miller looked to her for confirmation.

“Don’t you agree, Samantha?”

“Um.” Sam shrugged. “You’re the doctor.”

“Yes, but you’ve been taking care of him for three days now. In your professional opinion, is there anything preventing him from mild physical activity now?”

Cody could tell she wanted to say yes; it was in every tense line of her body, the way her jaw tightened as she considered the question. Finally, though, she shook her head.

“No, nothing significant.”

“Well, there you go.” Dr. Miller picked up his bag and started putting his equipment away. “Mild physical activity, nothing too strenuous. And please, don’t overexert. Just listen to your body.”

Oh, he intended to do just that.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said. “I really appreciate that.”

“Just don’t be foolish about it.” Dr. Miller glanced at Sam. “You’ll make sure he doesn’t go too far, won’t you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, you can count on it.”

Cody had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing out loud. She wasn’t going to give an inch, was she?

“I’ll see you later, young man,” Dr. Miller said, extending his hand.

Cody shook it almost by rote. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Not a problem.” He ruffled Sam’s hair, her face turning a soft shade of pink. “Anything for Samantha here.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes. “You just wanted to keep tabs on your celebrity patient here.”

He winked. “Well, there is that, too.”

Cody laughed. “I’m no celebrity.”

“Are you kidding? Your accident is the most-talked-about event in recent memory here in Four Corners. To have been your admitting physician is currency I’ll be trading on for weeks.”

“Well, I hope it gets you lots of dinner invitations,” Cody said. “Thanks again for everything.”

With a wave, Dr. Miller headed out of the bedroom, Sam right behind.

He could hear the murmur of their voices as they walked down the hall, followed by the sound of the front door closing.

Expecting Sam to come back right away, he sat up a bit and watched the doorway.

He was still watching five minutes later, when she finally returned.

Despite his hopes, it was clear that she wasn’t back for a continuation of the kiss that had been so rudely interrupted. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she would have preferred to be anywhere other than in the bedroom with him.

“You like to take risks, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Something bothering you, Sam?”

“I’d prefer it if we kept this situation on a purely professional level, Cody. Especially around my colleagues.”

“Too late.” As her eyes widened, he added, “There’s no way the two of us could have been purely professional, Sam. Too much history in the way. And too much heat, now.”

“Only if we choose to act on it.”

“Which we have, a couple of times now.” When she looked away, he reached out and touched her wrist. “That’s not a bad thing, Sam. It’s clear there’s something between us that I wouldn’t mind exploring. The question is, why do you keep closing off that possibility?”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

She pinched her lips shut, clearly wishing she could take it back.

“If you’ve got an issue, Sam, better just to get it all out on the table.”

“How can I be sure you won’t kick me out again this time?”

“This time?” His mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She glared at him. “Pardon me if I’m a little gun shy about getting into bed with you.”

“For God’s sake, Sam, we were kids!” He snorted. “Or at least, you were. Of course I kicked you out of my bed. I could have been charged with statutory rape if I hadn’t!”

“Like that would have happened.”

“You don’t think your mother hadn’t already threatened me with it that summer?”

She stared at him in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Anyone could see we were getting close, Sam. And Lord knows I was tempted. But you were fifteen, I was eighteen. You do the math.”

"Well, of course you did the right thing. That didn't make it easier on me."

"You think it was easy on me?"

“But you never said anything.”

“What was I supposed to do? Tell you your mom told me she’d call the cops if I so much as breathed on you wrong?”

“Yes!” She fisted her hands on her hips. “A little information would have been helpful. I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that you were starting to act weird. And I wanted—” She cut off the statement abruptly, covering her mouth with one hand.

“I know. I wanted, too.” He pursed his lips. “Finding you in my bed was the best, and worst, thing that could have happened to me that summer. The best, because it was what I wanted more than anything. And the worst, because I couldn’t do anything about it.”

When she spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “You were so—dismissive.”

“I couldn’t risk it happening again. Bad enough that I had to smuggle you out of the bunkhouse without anyone seeing us. What if you’d gotten just enough encouragement to give it another try?”

“I was so humiliated.” She angrily rubbed one knuckle under her eye. “There I was, in the sexiest negligee I could find, and all you could say was, ‘I think you’re in the wrong bed, little girl.’”

He heaved a sigh. “Not my finest hour, to be sure. But in my defense…”

She looked up. “Yeah?”

“I was eighteen. With a hard-on that wouldn’t quit and a girl I couldn’t touch. I was going insane.”

She laughed at that, a shaky one but a laugh nonetheless. “Well, I guess I can take comfort in that.”

“You should.”

“I should probably take comfort in the fact that you're a decent guy, too.” She sighed. “Taking me up on my offer would have been a pretty creepy thing to do.”