Hotblooded (14 page)

He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting another woman, ever. He loved making her burn, making her respond, making her need, when it seemed nothing and no one else could do that.

She suddenly sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the desk and reaching behind her to re-hook her bra. Then she shrugged into her shirt and combed her fingers through her hair—that wasn’t just loose now but was completely disheveled. And incredibly sexy.

“And now you’ve built this clinic up to the point of having patients scheduled this afternoon so you have to go back to work.” She pulled her shirt together and pushed him back so she could slide off the desk. “Too bad about that, because I think I’m going to head to my house. For a shower.”

She was teasing him. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have believed Brooke Donovan would tease—especially sexually.

But he loved it. Because he loved how self-assured she seemed, and he loved that smile. Maybe part of him felt like he shouldn’t be kissing her—or more. But maybe this was something even more he could give her, something she needed. Not just an orgasm or the feeling of being wanted, but the ability to let go, take what she wanted, not worry about consequences.

That had been the word she’d used before—consequences. He didn’t know what that meant exactly but maybe she was talking about sex, letting go, getting wild. She’d been without her husband for months now, she was stuck in a town where she obviously had some issues. That might be what this whole thing was about for her—she needed to feel comfortable and confident about something, with someone.

If this was the solution, he’d happily help her as often as she wanted him.

He caught her arm as she tried to slip past him and brought her up on tiptoe so he could kiss her again. Then he said, “Anytime you feel the need to express how you really feel, you just let me know. I’ll be there for you.”

She took a shaky breath as he let her go, but said nothing as she started buttoning up. She left first. It took Jack a few extra minutes to be able to leave her office without embarrassing himself.

Chapter Five

It was really hard to avoid a guy who was dead-set on finding you. Especially in a town the size of Honey Creek. Especially when he “worked” at the same clinic she did.

But there was no way Brooke could face Jack.

Even two days later, her face—and the rest of her body—heated remembering what had happened in her office. What she’d let happen.

What she’d made happen.

That was the worst part. She could claim she’d been swept up in the moment, too overwhelmed by him to think straight, that he’d seduced her, swept her off her feet…forced her. But that was as far from the truth as she could get and her memory—which insisted on replaying every single detail of the time in her office with Jack—wouldn’t let her forget how she’d kissed him, how she’d been the one to lay back, how she’d had plenty of chances to say no or stop, how he’d asked if she was sure and she’d threatened him if he stopped.

But he hadn’t stopped. Not at all. And she now couldn’t walk into her office, look at a cup of coffee or even hear his voice without her heart racing, her nipples tingling and her panties getting wet.

This was so bad.

She was every bit the slut she’d always feared she was. That everyone had always known she was.

And that she wanted to be again. And again. And again.

So avoiding him seemed the best option. The only option, frankly.

Yesterday she’d seen her home patients and she made the obligatory stop at the clinic—but only after Jack’s truck was gone for the day. Then she’d found a cup of cappuccino on her desk with a sticky note that said,
I prefer cold cappuccino now too.
Which had made her hot.

She’d had three messages on her phone. The first had said, “We need to talk. Or better yet, let’s not talk and just do more of what we did in your office.” Which had made her hot. The second said, “I’m a big fan of naked and wet but you can’t possibly still be in the shower.” That had also made her hot. The third said, “I’m trying to respect your space but I will come to your house. And you know you won’t lock me out.”

He was absolutely right. But thankfully he hadn’t shown up. So far.

He couldn’t. That big black truck in her driveway would be more than conspicuous and it would stay all night. Which would ruin everything she’d been working on. She was sure she wouldn’t care until the morning, but still…

So today she was determined she wasn’t going in to the clinic at all. Not even to the back room—with that huge cappuccino machine that made her breathe hard just looking at it. She’d texted Carla and told her she was in the back parking area. Carla could come out and fill her in on anything that she needed to know, give her any messages, and then Brooke could get out of there before she saw Jack…or vice versa.

Not that there was anything she really needed to handle. Jack was there.

For better or worse. And apparently indefinitely.

Of course after getting what he’d gotten from her the other day, with really very little effort on his part, it was no surprise he was staying around. In fact, he had every reason to believe there was even more where that had come from. Hell, they’d been arguing leading up to her being half-naked and panting for him. What could he possibly do to
keep
her from getting naked with him?

She sat in her car behind the clinic but Carla didn’t poke her head out and after nearly five minutes Brooke turned off the ignition with a sigh and slunk toward the back door. Why she was slinking she couldn’t really say. She knew Jack was likely seeing patients and even if he wasn’t, there were no windows in the back room.

She slunk anyway.

At the door, she pulled her phone out but it still showed no return message from Carla. Dammit. She pulled the back door open a few inches and peered inside but saw no one.

Hoping the ringing would be louder than the text-message signal, Brooke dialed Carla’s number. It started to ring—both in her ear and in the back room. Scowling, she stepped into the room and looked around. Carla’s jacket hung on the hook by the door, her cell phone obviously in the pocket.

Brooke snapped her phone shut. “Dammit.”

Then she slunk toward the door leading to the front of the clinic. If Jack was in with a patient she could catch Carla quick and then get out before he saw her.

But as she neared the door she heard voices. One definitely male. She hoped it was a patient but even with the door open just a crack, she knew it was Jack. Only his voice could make tingles erupt head to toe.

She was equally frustrated and thrilled about that.

In spite of herself, she liked being a woman with Jack. That sounded dumb, even in her head, since she was obviously a woman with everyone—but with Jack she was a
woman
.

Part of her liked having adrenaline rushes when she saw him, liked the tingles he created, liked feeling sexy and wanted and powerful. She hadn’t felt any of that in a long time. And in the past, when she had, she’d really tried to suppress it. She and Mike hadn’t had a traditional marriage in any sense of the word, but they’d had a deal that kept them both from getting too serious with anyone else.

At least that’s what she’d thought.

In the past several years, she’d had a few brief, superficial relationships, but she never let herself get involved emotionally and never allowed herself to really let go.

It was good that she hadn’t met Jack before this because it was damned hard, seemingly impossible even, to not let go with him.

Common sense said that she should be able to enjoy all of this with Jack. She wasn’t married, he wasn’t married, they both wanted it and no one was getting hurt.

She wanted to enjoy things like orgasms on her desk in the middle of a work day. She wanted to grab him and give
him
an orgasm on her desk in the middle of a work day.

But she wouldn’t.

Because that was something her mother would have done.

Dixie never did anything as ordinary as date a man. She never simply sat on the couch and watched TV with someone. She never had a relationship where they went on picnics or just held hands or talked for hours on the phone or spent Sunday morning in bed laughing and reading the paper.

No, she did things like give blowjobs in the backseats of limos or in storage closets at parties. She used her phone to send explicit text messages and pictures to her lovers in the middle of business meetings. She did occasionally have sex in a bed, but if the desk was the closest thing, she’d definitely make it work.

Strangely, Jack was the first guy to make Brooke understand her mom in that regard. Dixie had claimed to be unable to help herself.

With Jack, Brooke got that.

After all, how could she be expected to resist a guy who could give her an orgasm so easily—and so well—and who constantly claimed to want her to be happy?

Yeah, well, she’d been happy yesterday.

If she were honest, she’d admit that in general she was feeling less I-hate-it-here than she had prior to his arrival. There was a little flip in her stomach on her short drive to work in the mornings. She found herself smiling more often. And she almost wore red shoes one day.

Almost.

But that was closer than she’d come in a really long time.

She was leaning over the back counter writing a note to Carla when Jack came into the room. She didn’t see him enter, but she felt him. It seemed from the very beginning she was incredibly aware of him.

She turned and crossed her arms. Not sure what to say, she waited for him to speak.

“Good timing. I’ve got an hour between patients,” he said, heading for the cappuccino machine.

“Good timing for what?”

“More self-expression.”

He gave her a wicked grin she couldn’t help but respond to. He wasn’t going to tiptoe around anything—big surprise. He was going to jump right in to how things were between them. “How do you know I haven’t been expressing myself like crazy at home on my own?” she asked.

He set his cup down and strode toward her. As he crowded close she didn’t move but to tip her chin up to meet his eyes.

“Are you thinking of me when you’re expressing yourself?” he asked huskily. He didn’t touch her but she felt like every inch of her skin was anticipating it.

She was thinking of him every second of every day, it seemed. She could give him that much. Plus she was sure that imagining her pleasuring herself while thinking of him would cause that amazing flame to flare in his eyes. She loved that.

“I’m thinking of you and your fingers when I’m driving my car, Jack. Of course I think of you when I’m using my vibrator.”

She hadn’t actually gotten her vibrator out lately, but if she did, he’d be the star of the fantasy for sure.

He gave a little groan and started to lean in to kiss her. There was no lock on this door, which made that a really bad idea.

She’d known coming to the clinic would end up with her doing something stupid—like going down on him in the back room.

“Guess what?” she asked, changing the subject quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

How could that even sound sexy?

“I think we should repaint.” She’d been thinking about it since he’d suggested it, not as a way to bring more patients in, but for her. And Jack and Carla and everyone else who actually spent time in the clinic. There was no denying that the clinic was cool and boring and uninviting. She didn’t care if patients came in because of a change or not but why shouldn’t the people who spent most of their time there enjoy it?

He leaned back, realizing that her idea didn’t include fewer clothes. But he smiled. “Wow, where’d you come up with that idea? It’s brilliant really.”

She rolled her eyes. He was so cocky. “So I’m going to need some of that cash you seem so intent on getting rid of.”

It was probably stupid, but she’d also gotten the distinct impression that using the money was a big deal for Jack. He’d backed off, hadn’t mentioned it lately, but she still knew it really mattered.

“Just let me know what you need,” he said.

She needed a bunch of stuff that involved him taking his pants off. But she didn’t say that. Mostly because Carla came in right then.

“Hey, Brooke,” she greeted as she too headed straight for the cappuccino.

She smiled at her friend, not sure if she was glad her near confession to Jack was interrupted or not.

“Have you heard from Ken Bickford?” she asked Carla.

“Yep, just called and said he’d be here tomorrow right at eight.” Carla turned with a full cup. “What’s he coming for?”

Ken was a general contractor in Honey Creek and was someone Brooke could have an actual conversation with. “We’re repainting.”

“Repainting what?”

“The clinic.”

“Outside or inside?” Carla asked.

“The whole thing. Both. All of it. The outside’s going to be yellow.”

Carla blinked at her. “Yellow.”

“Yep.”

“Do I want to know what the inside’s going to be?”

“And,” Brooke said, ignoring Carla’s question, “I’m ordering couches to replace the waiting room chairs, and we’re going to put in new carpet and use floor lamps instead of the fluorescents. And each exam room will be different. I want to do one in turquoise, one coral, maybe another purple and put colorful rugs over the tile floors. What do you think?”

Carla just stared at her. Brooke glanced at Jack, who was smiling and sipping cappuccino.

“I was also thinking of moving the cappuccino machine up front and putting in a small coffee bar in the waiting area,” she said.

Carla’s face actually lit up at that. “Really? Like with lattes and mochas and biscotti and stuff?”

Brooke had no idea. She was flying by the seat of her pants with this whole thing. She’d been to coffee bars, of course, but had never really paid attention. She didn’t know what it took.

She was a lot more excited about the comfy couches and pretty coral paint on the walls in room three.

“Of course. The whole bit,” she said.

But then reason seemed to sink into her nurse’s consciousness. “I’m all for a coffee bar, but what does it have to do with a medical clinic?”