First Take (Star-Taken) (8 page)

He groaned. “That would mean I get to see you too, right?”

She bit her lip. The thought hadn’t been foremost in mind. “Yes.” She really had changed if the idea of exhibiting herself to him didn’t send her running scared.

“
Then I’ll have to work on figuring out how to make that happen.” She could tell him, but without missing a beat, he continued, “So, you want to see me jacking off?”

A thrill shot through her as his words conjured a video of his hand moving faster and faster up and down his erection, his head thrown back, eyes closed tight, and the muscles of his neck strained with tension—the need to come his only focus.
She gasped as she explored herself, stroking from clitoris through her soaked folds to her channel, where she’d briefly penetrate before repeating the whole sequence in a rhythm matching his imagined strokes.

“What else?”

She closed her eyes. What else did she want? She wanted him to replace her hand with his. She wanted his thick length teasing her folds and not her finger. The edge of her arousal dimmed with her irritation.

Focus, Rach.

“You still with me, babe?”

The harshness of his voice snagged her attention. Though she wanted to be with him, it wasn’t possible at the moment. Phone sex was as good as it would get, so she should enjoy it.

“What are you doing over there? Are you still playing with your nipples?”

“No.” She slid
the hand at her breast downward to hold the edge of her underwear to the side so she could better play with herself with her other hand. “I’m touching my clit.” She followed action to words. “Rubbing it.”

“
And are you wet?”

She gathered
more of her juices from between her folds and massaged her nub. “Very.” The newness of leisurely exploring herself coupled with the adventure of having Stephen listen while she did escalated her excitement to new heights, her orgasm building with each rapid beat of her heart.

His breath
ing ragged and his voice choppy, he asked, “What else do you want to see me do besides jacking off?”

She swirled her finger faster over the bundle of nerves
and rotated her hips to match the movement. “I want to see you come all over your stomach.” What would it be like if he came all over her? A tremor rocked her core at the dirty image.

“Damn that’s hot.”

If only he knew what she’d just thought. Wasn’t it every guy’s fantasy to decorate a woman in such a manner? She pictured his fist pumping faster and faster and increased her speed. “I’m close,” she gasped. What would cum feel like striking her skin?

“Let me hear those throat
y little cries of yours, babe. Take me over the edge with you.”

Thankful
that her bedroom was on one side of the house, away from all the others, she thrust her middle finger inside her channel, pressing the heel of her palm against her clitoris. “I’ve slipped a finger inside. I’m so tender, but I feel so empty. It still doesn’t compare to having your cock inside me. I love the way you fill me.” She inserted a second finger. “I love how you throb deep inside me when you come.”

She
rubbed her palm faster and faster over the bundle of nerves, her fingers plunging and retreating in time. Stephen’s heavy breathing poured through the phone, and she imagined his hand sliding from the head of his cock to the base then focusing more and more on the head and that sensitive spot beneath the glans. “I’m coming, Stephen. I’m coming.”

“Milk me, babe. Take it all.”

Her pussy pulsed around her fingers in time to his hoarse shout. She pressed her clitoris, drawing out each tremor. “If I was there, I’d lick you clean.” She’d loved the almost flavorless taste of his cum last night.

His breath shuddered from him. “
You’re a wicked, wicked woman.”

She
chuckled. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You started this.”

“Maybe.” With a sigh, she slid her fingers free of her channel then wiped them on the outside of her panties. She was too lazy to cross the room for a tissue much less go to the bathroom. “I don’t remember; and I’m so relaxed, I don’t care.”

“Then my job here is done.”

A pleasant lethargy weighing her limbs, she smiled though he couldn’t see it. “You sound quite pleased with yourself.”

“Oh, I am.
” An answering smile in his voice turned hers into a grin. “Remember I said you’re good for my ego.”

“And you’re just good for me.” Her eyes
snapped open as her body went rigid. She hadn’t meant to say precisely that. It was a little too…serious. Yes, they’d had sex. Yes, they had a future date planned, but that wasn’t the same as a future, and those words begged for one. “I…uh…”

He chuckled. “You need sleep. We both do, though I need to clean up first. I’ll call you tomorrow evening, but if you need to talk before then
, don’t hesitate to. I have a couple of meetings, but if I can’t answer, I’ll call back as soon as possible or shoot you a text. Okay?”

The warm fuzzies his concern for her inspired reappeared. Having someone interested in your welfare was…nice.
“Okay.”

“
‘Night, babe. Dream of me.”

“
Goodnight, Stephen.” She ended the call then dropped the phone onto the opposite pillow.

How did he always know
exactly what to say in that self-assured voice of his to settle her nerves? Was it possible for one person to know another person that well in so short a time? Or was he just that way with everyone? Her stomach turned at the thought of being one of the masses.

But if that were the case, then he wouldn’t have called. He would’ve gone out in LA and found someone to get down and dirty with or called a previous conquest
, or someone else he knew would be up for sex, or any of other countless possibilities. And when he focused on her, she felt like the only person in the world. Wasn’t that enough for the moment? Didn’t she have other things to worry about rather than who else he might be seeing? Besides, no doubt the wag rags would ferret out any story involving him and any model-actress-singer he’d spend time with over the next few days in LA. Since her mother was addicted to those things, the truth would make itself known sooner or later.

No use borrowing
more trouble.

Unable to keep her eyes open, she let them drift shut. A smile graced her
lips as an image of brown-flecked green eyes filled with concern danced against her closed lids. Whatever else, he’d once again succeeded in tempering the reality of the day’s events.

~ * ~

EIGHT

Taking a deep breath, Rachel trailed her mom and Nate into Dad’s ICU room. Despite Rachel insisting she could drive her and her mom to the hospital this morning, Mom and Nate had overruled her. She hated to think it was because they both worried the worst would happen today and Rachel would be in no condition to drive home later. When she met her father’s gaze, she smiled, though her insides twisted. He was so gray, and not just his hair, but also his skin tone. He wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
Please let the doctors be able to operate.

Dad
raised a hand, but it barely cleared the bed. She hugged herself, wishing Stephen were there for support. The thought should have startled her, but for whatever reason, the man wanted to take care of her. Too bad he was half a country away. She was used to her father puttering around the yard, picking up branches and pulling weeds, acting hale and hearty—though apparently he wasn’t.

A
fter his two previous heart attacks, she’d held out hope the stints would do the trick. Both the doctors and the family had told him he couldn’t go back to eating the same way he had and that he needed even more exercise than he was getting, but though he was her dad, he was also a man, and a person. In other words, he had a mind of his own, and as he said, “I’m a grown man who’s lived a long life; I’ll do what I damn well please.”

That was great for him, but maybe she should tell him he wasn’t sticking around for him
self, but rather for her, his family, the future. She stifled a sigh. Not that she knew what her future held, but surely she or Robert would marry one day and possibly have kids. Didn’t Dad want to be around for that? Maybe this heart attack and open-heart surgery would be the catalyst for a change.

“Where’s my Rachel?”
Dad asked, weakness cranking his normal booming tone way down in volume.

She stepped forward. “I’m here, Dad.
You know me, just woolgathering.” Her country-born-and-bred father used to tease her endlessly as a child about her propensity to daydream at the oddest times. Once, she’d even blocked out his repeatedly calling her until he snapped his fingers in front of her face.
The Call of the Wild
had been that good.

He frowned. “Don’t worry
‘bout me, pum’kin.”

He held up
a hand and she grabbed it—so frail, the skin withered and dry. She blinked rapidly and swallowed the threatening tears.

“How’s work? N
ot missin’ any deadlines?” She hated the shallow breaths he took between choppy sentences.

“Nope.
” With a light squeeze of his hand, she shrugged. “You know how I am. I brought my work with me.”

Pursing chapped lips, he shook his head, rolling it back and forth on the pillow. “You work too hard.”

Fear knotted her stomach. He didn’t even have the energy to support his head. “One minute you’re worried about me missing deadlines and the next you’re telling me I work too much?” She forced a laugh.

“When w
as your last day off?” Concern clouded his blue-hazel eyes, though it wasn’t the reason they appeared more gray than blue. The whites of his eyes were muted as well.

Rachel
drew a deep breath, fortifying her nerves. Then with a weak smile, she said, “I took off on my birthday.” He couldn’t even remember two days ago? Of course, even to her, it seemed like a different time.

His forehead wrinkled then cleared. “That’s right. That’s right.”

Worry gnawed at her. His foggy thinking was symptomatic of the heart attack and not getting enough oxygen to his brain. When would the doctors be in to tell them if the surgery would happen today or not?

“Good morning, Mr.
Harrington. How are you today?”

Rachel
started at the heavily accented words near her ear. She’d been so preoccupied by her concern, she hadn’t heard the door open.

“Morning, Dr. Shen,” her dad said.

Rachel turned to face the doctor, taking a step back until her body was even with her dad’s head. Dr. Shen was probably the same age as her father, but unlike Dad, who was almost completely gray-headed, silver only streaked the man’s black strands. The doctor exuded a confident, calming air, perfect for a cardiologist who had to deal with life-and-death decisions on a daily basis. Rachel relaxed marginally and squeezed her father’s hand before releasing it.

Dr. Shen
nodded at her mother then threw a smile at Rachel, but ignored Nate, who had tucked himself into the corner of the room nearest the door, so he could step out and check his phone no doubt. Stepping closer of the bed, the doctor picked up her dad’s hand and with a finger on his wrist checked his watch for a few seconds. Then he placed Dad’s hand back on the bed and, with a soft pat, said, “So, today we do your surgery, yes?”

“S
ince I can’t escape, then I’m at your mercy, Doc.”

“Oh no, Mr.
Harrington,” Dr. Shen said, a deep frown furrowing his brow. “It would be very unwise to attempt to leave in your condition.”

Rachel
bit back a grin as the doctor took her dad’s words to heart instead of as the joke he’d intended. At least her dad had perked up, though she wouldn’t put it past him to being putting on a show for them all to ease their concerns.

“Well, if my family would help…” Dad shot a questioning glance at Rachel and her mom. Rachel rolled her eyes while her mother
, now standing beside Rachel, shook her head. Her dad continued, “There you have it, Doc. You get to gut me like a hog.”

Dr. Shen said, “The incision is nowhere near that large, Mr. Harrison.”

“Well, that’s good.” Dad smiled. “Don’t wanna scare the women when I hit the pool.”

Rachel groaned while her mother
, a pink tinge decorating her face and a hand at her throat, said, “Now, Jimmy.” Mom didn’t get Dad’s humor half the time. While Dad was a flirt, he was harmless; everyone knew it.

Ignoring both her and her mother, her dad
waggled his eyebrows. “Though I’ve heard the ladies like scars. What do you think, Doc?”

“I think swimming is an excellent form of exercise. Be sure to pu
t on plenty of sunscreen. Of course you will have to wait until the incisions heal.” The man’s tone was so serious, Rachel had to cover her mouth and force a couch to hide a smile.

“Will do,
Doc.” Her dad chuckled, and Rachel’s mood lightened. Surely he was planning on sticking around if he was cracking corny jokes about the future, even if it was only the immediate future.

“Okay, so we’ll be prepping you for surgery soon.” Dr. Shen looked at
Rachel and her mother. “Sorry, but you’ll need to clear the room—”

“Oh, but Robert hasn’t made it here yet
,” her mother said, her voice near-hysterical, rising with each word. “You can’t take him away until he’s had a chance to see his son.”

Rachel shot Nate a do-something look, and
, though he returned a what-can-I-do glare, he left the corner. “I’ll step out and give him a call, see how far away he is.”

When he
tugged open the door, hushed words carried into the room. “Sir, you can’t go in there. There’s already the maximum number of visitors in the room,” a woman said.

“Well, ma’am.
” Relief washed through Rachel as Robert said, “I don’t see how that’s possible when the limit is three, which would be my mother, my sister, and I. Since you’re detaining me, I can’t be in there. Doing the math, that means only two people should be in with my dad.”

Mom
muttered, “Oh, dear.” She hated conflict, and while Robert sounded calm enough, that always preceded a storm.

Nate snorted. “Looks like I won’t have to go too far at all. I’ll be in the waitin
g area.” He left the room, his gaze already focused on his phone screen.

“Oh, I should’ve known
you’d
be here,” her brother said as Nate entered the hall. He’d never held Rachel’s ex in any affection. “Seeing as how the count has fallen below three, ma’am, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go visit my father.”

Robert rounded the corner into the room. People said
Rachel and he resembled each other, but she didn’t like to think too much about that statement. She wasn’t sure if they meant she looked mannish or he looked feminine. They shared the rounded cheeks and soft jawline of their mother, while sporting the straight nose of their father. Both of them also had the reddish-brown mop of hair that Dad had boasted before going gray.

“Robert
, don’t you know you catch more flies with sugar?” Dad asked followed by a series of shallow coughs that did alarming things to the heart rate displayed on the monitor.

After everything quieted,
Robert shook his head. “I’m not here to flirt with the nurses, Dad. I’ll leave that to you when Mom’s not around.”

Her dad chuckled and raised a hand toward his wife. “Yes, but your mom knows it’s all harmless and she’s stuck with me. You
, on the other hand, need to settle down.”

“Really,
Dad?” Robert settled at the foot of the bed, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re lying in a hospital bed about to undergo open-heart surgery and you’re telling me I need to get married?”

Dr. Shen cleared his throat. “I’m going to step outside and have a word with the nurse about prepping you, Mr.
Harrington. If you wouldn’t mind keeping it brief.” He nodded then exited the room.

“Well, isn’t he a barrel of laughs,” Robert drawled.

“He’s a perfectly nice doctor, Robert. You shouldn’t be so rude,” Mom said.

“Did you speed to get here, son?”
Dad asked. “It’s awfully early. I didn’t know you writers got up before lunch.”

Robert
smirked. “You know I make exceptions for you, Dad. We’ve gotten up plenty of times at the crack of dawn to go fishing.”

A small smile flittered across
Dad’s face. “Yes, we have. Next time, we’ll get Rachel to go.”

She
moaned, and everyone laughed. Though she wasn’t a slugabed, sleeping ‘til noon or later, Rachel didn’t like getting up before the sun either. “While I like fishing well enough and wouldn’t mind going, I can’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

“Yeah, well,
” Robert said, “we all know your version of fishing involves a book or two, and we discovered that summer at the lake that dropping a book in the water only scares the fish off.”

“Maybe
because it was
The Old Man in the Sea.
” Dad laughed at his own joke while everyone else groaned. After a deep breath, he said, “Okay, I’m ready.” He met his wife’s gaze, and Rachel switched places with her mom. “Mary, you know I love you. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Rachel had no idea why
her parents said “see you on the other side” to each other. It seemed morbid to her, but for as long as she could remember, it was what they said when they parted, whether for a quick drive to the grocery store or post office, for work, or for something requiring an overnight or longer separation.

“Jimmy
—” Mom’s lower lip quivered.

“Don’t cry, honey. Robert
, take your mom to the waiting room. I want a word with your sister.”

Robert frowned, but
stepped around the foot of the bed, holding his hand out. “Come on, Mom. You know he’s too stubborn to die.”

While Rachel and
Robert had never been close, their father’s episodes had given her an appreciation for Robert’s presence. Given the gravity of this particular heart attack, she was doubly grateful to have her big brother around so he could manage Mom.

Mom
sniffed then leaned over and kissed Dad on the lips, then each cheek, and finally, his forehead. Brushing his hair away from his forehead, she said, “See you on the other side.” Mom grabbed Robert’s hand and he pulled her in close to his body, his tall frame dwarfing hers.

Robert hugged Mom close and escorted her from the room, murmuring some silly story about his last fishing trip with Dad
that had her giggling before their steps faded down the hall. Rachel smiled. Whoever said parents didn’t have favorites was silly. Kids had their favorite parent, so why wouldn’t a parent have a favorite kid? Robert was Mom’s, and that was okay because she had Dad.

She looked at her father’s
frail form, forced a smile to her lips, and asked, “What’s up, old man?”

He wrinkled his
nose. “Just because I’m laid up in a hospital bed doesn’t mean I’m too old or too weak to take you across my knee, young lady.”

“Uh
-huh.” An idle threat and they both knew it. He’d never raised a hand to her or Robert.

“No matter what happens today, I want you to promise me something, Rachel.” He twisted toward her with some effort.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she nodded. She wanted to tell him he’d be fine, that they’d been through this before, but they hadn’t. Something similar, but not open-heart surgery. And surgery always carried risks. Besides, he’d just tell her he was the parent. It was his job to reassure, not hers. “What’s that?”