KeyParty (5 page)

“And maybe you could be less obvious when fixing the game
next time.” Rachel gave Petra a look. “Isn’t
random
hooking up the point
of a key party?”

Petra shrugged innocently and sipped her coffee.

“Seriously,” Bree continued, to Rachel this time. “You have
to see Alex’s dick. It’s gorgeous.” She volleyed back to Petra. “Am I right?”

Petra gave her a wide-eyed look. “I don’t know. I’ve never
seen it.”

Rachel sat back and shook her head. “I haven’t had enough
coffee to be hearing this just yet.” It came out much more impatiently than
she’d intended.

She caught the quick look her friends exchanged.

“You all right?” Petra asked.

“I’m fine.” She tried to smile, but she didn’t feel fine.
“I’m just tired.”

“Tired means you hardly got any sleep,” Bree said, patting
her hand indulgently. “That’s a good sign, sweetie.”

“If you say so,” she muttered into her mug, then sighed. “He
works at the new cardiac wellness center in Homewood. I have an interview there
on Tuesday.”

Petra sat up straight, sensing the reason for Rachel’s
gloom. Bree, who always saw the sunny side of things, pumped a fist into the
air.

Bree’s expression fell when Rachel just looked at her.
“That’s not a good thing?”

Rachel occasionally forgot Bree didn’t know as much of her
history as Petra. She hadn’t been friends with Bree during the time of The
Asshole Incident, as Petra liked to call it. Rachel had taken a few months off
to clear her head between quitting college and starting massage school. She’d
worked in a restaurant as a waitress to make a little money but ended up making
a fool out of herself instead.

“I don’t date coworkers,” Rachel said. “Ever.”

“Well…” Petra let her thought trail off unfinished.

“I did once, and it ended very badly.” Rachel pushed back
from the table and went for the bag of bagels on the counter. “So I don’t do it
anymore.”

“How badly did it end?” Bree asked.

Rachel put the bagels on the table. “He spread rumors about
me all over the restaurant where we worked,” she said, finding a cinnamon one
for herself.

Bree held up her hand when she offered her the bag. “What
was the rumor?”

She tore off a bite. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does.” Bree shifted in her seat and repositioned
the water bottle between her legs, making Petra snort. “You know my deepest
secrets, Rach. Spill it.”

Rachel took a drink of coffee to help her swallow the bite
lodged in her throat. Petra slid her a look before taking a deep breath.

“She was dating this cook right before I introduced the two
of you,” Petra started. “He was cute, he took her out on fun dates, they hung
out.”

“One night a couple of months into dating, I slept with
him,” Rachel said, taking over the story. “I’d only been with one other guy
before, and he was a straight missionary man, so I had zero experience.”

She didn’t feel the need to tell Bree how the coworker had
bragged about his oral sex skills, or that when he actually got down there to
show her, she hadn’t felt a damn thing. In fact, it had been one of the most
disgusting experiences of her life.

“I didn’t realize it then, but the sex was horrible. I
thought it was me.” She blushed at the memory and the humiliation of saying it
out loud, even after all the years that had passed. “He told everyone we worked
with I was terrible in bed. The next day.”

“Oh, sweetie.” The water bottle wedged between her legs fell
to the floor as Bree jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around Rachel’s
neck. “You poor thing.” She took Rachel’s face in her hands and looked into her
eyes. “You know it’s not you now, right? Because yours weren’t the only moans
and groans I was hearing through the floor last night.”

The heat in Rachel’s face grew. She closed her eyes. “Yes, I
get that now.”

“Good.” Bree sat and held Rachel’s hand. “Honey, listen. You
haven’t interviewed yet, and the job isn’t guaranteed even after you do. And
you’re talking about the difference between a doctor and a line cook, who
likely never had the ambition to be anything else. Not that there’s anything wrong
with that. I’m just saying.” She squeezed Rachel’s fingers. “Don’t get me
wrong, I’ve worked with my share of asshole docs, still do in fact, but I think
it’s safe to say they tend to be a more discreet breed of asshole.”

“She has a point,” Petra said.

“Thank you.” Rachel gave her a withering look. “I hadn’t
caught that.”

“And it’s not like Ben’s the kind of guy who keeps a steady
girl around.” She gestured to Petra. “You said yourself you’ve never known him
to date anyone longer than a few weeks, and never seriously.”

Now
that
made her stomach take a turn for the worst.
Just what she needed was to get involved with another man with a short
attention span.

She dropped her bagel onto the table and brushed crumbs from
her fingers. “None of your points matter,” she said to Bree. “I’m not going to
the interview. It’s not like I
need
the job. I have money saved from
working for the cruise line and living cheap with my friends. I can take a spa
job instead.”

“Rachel,” Petra said quietly. “You’ve been wanting a job in
therapy for so long.”

“Yeah,” Bree added. “You’ve been talking about getting out
of the fluff and fold business for years.”

Rachel burst into much-needed laughter.

“Fluff and buff,” Petra corrected, grinning.

Bree gave her a flat look.

“Fluff and fold is laundry, darling,” Petra added.

Bree’s nostrils flared. “Whatever.”

“I love you both so much,” Rachel sighed, feeling the weight
of the morning lift.

Bree drew in a deep breath and turned back to Rachel. “You
can’t throw this chance away because one bad boyfriend did something mean to
you a long time ago.”

She was right. The rational part of Rachel’s brain knew both
of her friends were right. The night with Ben was just a one-night stand. They
weren’t dating, and there certainly hadn’t been any plans made to see each
other again.

She groaned and dropped her head into her hands, realizing
how badly she’d overreacted, and what an ass she’d made of herself that
morning.

Rachel looked up when she felt Bree’s hand on her arm.

“Promise me you won’t cancel the interview,” Bree said, her
big, dark eyes full of gentle concern.

“I promise,” she sighed. “But I might need a good, stiff
drink before I go in.”

At almost the exact moment Rachel was scheduled to meet with
the board of the Homewood Cardiac Health and Wellness Center, the door opened
and Dr. Marks himself invited her into his office. With his slight build,
thinning gray-blond hair and pale-blue eyes, he couldn’t have been more the
opposite of his stepson Ben’s tall, dark and stunning. He had an easy, winsome
way about him that helped put her at ease the instant he shook her hand.

The other three board members and Ben were seated at a round
table off to one side of the large office. Everyone stood as she entered. She
put off looking directly at Ben for as long as she could, sure seeing him would
make her lose her nerve and run screaming from the room.

But the sight of him dressed in shirt, vest and tie over
jeans made her want to run to him instead of away. The dress shirt and suit
vest were impeccably tailored to fit his long frame in a way that hinted
strongly to the gorgeous body beneath, and his gray eyes were picking up some
of the blue from his cobalt tie.

She was slammed with the memory of being up on her elbows
and knees with him fucking her from behind, the lewd slap of his pelvis against
her ass and the heavy swing of his balls against her clit driving her moaning
and gasping toward orgasm.

Color rose quickly to her face. Heat pooled where it had no
damn business pooling at the beginning of a job interview and she found herself
grateful for both the padding in her bra and the wide lapel of her suit jacket
as her nipples pulled up tight.

Ben’s expression changed almost imperceptibly as if he’d
read her thoughts. His entire face relaxed into the barest of smiles and his
eyes positively glittered.

And then she was being introduced around the table. She
shook hands with Dr. Elizabeth Andrews, head of physical therapy, and Drs. Paul
and Tom Zimmerman, another cardiologist and dietary PhD respectively.

“I understand you and Ben know each other from college,” Dr.
Marks said, catching Rachel off guard when he got around to introducing his
stepson.

She blinked and automatically put her hand in Ben’s when he
held it out to her.

“Yes.” She drew out the word, stalling for time as she
prayed her brain kicked into gear. “He tutored me in chemistry my freshman year
of premed.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good teacher, though,” Ben said
easily, giving her hand the slightest of reassuring squeezes before he released
her.

“Well, my ineptitude with chemistry had nothing to do with
my tutor.” She tore her eyes away from his and forced herself to look at Dr.
Marks. “But I’m hoping you won’t hold that against me,” she said, and everyone
chuckled.

With the tension broken, she relaxed enough she thought she
did fairly well, especially near the end of the interview when the questions
became tough. No, she didn’t have any extensive experience with therapeutic
massage, unless they counted the times she’d helped a cruise passenger who’d
pulled a muscle playing shuffleboard or slept funny and woke up with a stiff
neck.

She had, however, taken numerous classes on her months-long
breaks between jobs and was up to date and certified in several therapeutic
techniques. When she was asked, she had the confidence to say yes, between her
years of experience and the information she’d learned through those classes,
she felt fully qualified for the job.

Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket, then excused himself
as the end of the interview turned into each of the board members sharing
stories about cruises they’d taken to different tropical locations. She tried
not to think about why he wouldn’t stick around to say goodbye—she’d been the
one who’d gotten all uppity about the interview, hadn’t she?—and focused on the
people she was quickly starting to hope would be her bosses in the near future.

The interview went over by a solid ten minutes. She gave the
woman waiting outside Dr. Marks’ office an apologetic smile as she stepped out
of the room and headed toward the exit. No sooner had she turned the corner
leading to the main lobby when Ben popped out of an office along the corridor.

“I thought you were never going to get out of there,” he
said, wrapping an arm around her waist and swinging her in the opposite
direction. “Want to see the PT wing?” he asked, ushering her in what she
assumed was the direction of the wing.

Up close, the barely there smell of the fine cologne he was
wearing made her head feel wonderfully loopy.

“Sure,” she breathed. Between the wide span of his hand on
her side, the sudden close proximity of his body and that amazing scent, she
was powerless to protest.

“I’m relieved you didn’t cancel,” he told her, dropping his
arm and his voice. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“I think it went well,” she said, suddenly unsteady on her
low, narrow interview heels. “I was surprised you told them we know each
other.”

“Only that we went to school together for a minute.” He
pointed to the left and they turned down a partially dark and apparently
deserted hallway. “I left out the part about how we spent an entire night
fucking like animals this past weekend.”

He said it so easily, so casually, yet her physical reaction
was anything but casual.

“Ben, I told you on Sunday morning we—”

“In here,” he said, cutting her off by taking her hand and
pulling her into a room.

Sunlight poured through the wall of windows. The room was
completely bare and still in need of some major renovation. Canvas tarps lay on
the unfinished floors and a pile of painting supplies stood in the center.

The door closed with a click behind them and suddenly she
was in his arms, her hands pressed over the fine silk of his vest and her body
touching his from chest to knee. He held her tight to him, one arm around her waist
and the other buried in her hair, angling her head so he could take her mouth
in a long, deep kiss.

Her knees buckled when his tongue dove into her mouth. Pure,
electric charges crackled and snapped through every one of her nerve endings as
he groaned deeply and pulled her even closer. Her hands slid slowly over his
chest and shoulders until they were buried in his thick black hair.

“Christ, Rachel,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to
hers. “Seeing you naked the other night took my breath away, but you in a suit
is…pornographic.”

She shivered despite the temperature rising in her body.
“Ben.”

“I know.” He lifted his head. His eyes were dark, pupils
dilated wide. “It’s completely inappropriate to drag you off and molest you
when I should be sitting in on the next interview, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Yes, inappropriate is a good word,” she agreed, finding it
thrilling when he pulled back slightly to look her over top to toe again
anyway.

She loved the height difference between them now that she was
out of her Saturday night heels—loved the way he made her feel delicate when he
held her in his arms.

And she loved the way he was looking at her at that moment.

“Listen, about Sunday morning,” he started.

“No.” She shook her head, stopping him. “I’m sorry I
overreacted.”

He stopped her with a quick, soft kiss. “Let me take you out
to lunch today.”

“I don’t know,” she hedged.

“I didn’t handle it very well either.” His hand slid around
to span the small of her back. “I have to sit in on the end of this last
interview and then I’m free the rest of the day. We can spend it catching up if
you’re free.”

She was free. Did any woman ever tell him no, she wondered,
now positively drunk on his smell and the look in his eyes.

“Okay to lunch, but we really need to talk about what
happens if I get hired.”

He kissed her again and her head reeled with it. She pulled
him back as he reached for the door and did her best to remove the traces of
her berry-colored lipstick from his mouth, suppressing a giggle when he looked
sheepish about it. He took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers, then
immediately dropped it when he opened the door.

Over his shoulder he said, “As I was saying, it doesn’t look
like much now, but we have big plans for the massage rooms.”

Rachel opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking
about, then heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking in the hallway.

“You
are
here.” The voice was rich and distinctly
female.

Ben tucked his hands into his pockets and gave Rachel a
sideways glance as they stepped out of the room.

“I thought you were sitting in on interviews with your dad
today, but the receptionist said she saw you heading down here a few minutes
ago. What’s going on with you?” the woman asked as she approached them.

She was gorgeous—tall, elegant in a beautifully tailored red
suit and moving in her three-inch heels as if she was wearing comfortable
running shoes. Her black hair was pulled back into a stylish knot, and when her
gray eyes shifted from Ben to her, Rachel realized she was also Ben’s mother.

“This is Rachel Marsh,” Ben said easily. “Rachel, my mother,
Dr. Lindsay Marks.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dr. Marks said, giving Rachel a warm
smile as they shook hands. “The two of you know each other?” she asked Ben.

“We went to school together years ago.” The small, private
smile he gave Rachel caused another little thrill to zip through her. “I
tutored her in chemistry one semester.”

“Really?” His mother looked pleasantly surprised. “And how
did that go?” she asked Rachel.

Rachel looked at Ben, but he just raised his eyebrows
expectantly.

“Not well at all, I’m afraid,” she answered. “Not that it
was Ben’s fault. I was a terrible premed student.”

“Well, while my son was a terrific student in his own right,
he wasn’t a very good teacher if I remember correctly.”

Ben cleared his throat. “You were looking for me?” he asked
his mother.

“Yes.” She turned to him. “Dr. Li called me earlier. He’s
been trying to reach you about sitting in on a consult he has later this
afternoon, but you weren’t answering.”

Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket, muttered a curse and
turned it on.

Realization dawned. He hadn’t left the end of her interview
to take a phone call. His phone hadn’t even been on. He’d left specifically to
talk to her once she left the room.

“I told him I was on my way here to meet your dad for lunch,
and that I’d ask if you were interested when I saw you,” his mother added.

Rachel could see by the way Ben perked up that he was
interested.

“I’ll call him as soon as I get the chance,” he assured her.

“Good.” Dr. Marks turned to Rachel. “It was good to meet
you.”

“Thank you. You too,” Rachel said, smiling despite the
disappointment over the lunch and the time with Ben she was going to miss.

“I’m sorry,” Ben turned to her when his mother was out of
earshot again. “Dr. Li has been an amazing mentor to me over the years. If he
thinks I should be part of this, it must be something I don’t have a lot of
experience with yet.”

“Of course you should go,” Rachel reassured him. His
excitement was palpable.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked, stepping back into
her space once they were alone again. “Can I pick you up and take you out for a
drink later?”

She had an early interview with a spa in the city in the
morning. “Yes.”

“I really have no idea how long this is going to take.” He
pulled his phone out of his pocket, touched the display a couple of times. “Can
I call you when I’m finished?”

“Yes,” she repeated, feeling unexpectedly elated, “but you
still owe me lunch.”

He programmed her number in when she gave it to him and
dropped the phone back into his pocket.

“Yes I do.” His expression went darkly erotic and he slipped
the fingers of one hand around the back of her neck. She had to press her palms
to his chest to keep from falling into him as he took another deep, dreamy pull
of a kiss from her mouth. “I’ll make it up to you soon,” he murmured.

And then he was away from her, his hand on the small of her
back as he walked her to her car. He held the door as she slid into the
driver’s seat, gave her a reluctant look before he closed it and stood with his
hands in his pockets until she drove away.

Rachel ventured a glance in her rearview mirror as she
stopped at the end of the driveway and waited for traffic to clear. Her stomach
fluttered dangerously when she found him standing in the same spot, still
watching her. And when he raised his hand and waved, her heart skipped several
beats.