Private Practice (8 page)

“How about you, Doc? It that why you’re here tonight? Boredom?”

“No, I wanted to get away from”—she sighed and moved her hands restlessly on the bar—“
stuff
for a while.”

He took a sip of his beer and inspected her face. Yeah, something troubled her. The corners of her extremely kissable mouth kept wilting.

He had a reputation for keeping things light, superficial even, and minding his own business, so he couldn’t really explain what made him tug her stool closer and prod. “Tough day at the office?”

“No. Easy day. One splinterectomy, but it was a complete success.”

“So why aren’t you celebrating your surgical triumph?”

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop in a gesture that managed to convey both frustration and resignation. “I stopped by to see Frank afterward. The visit kind of sucked the triumph right out of me.” She aimed a tight smile at him. “Enough said on that topic.”

Well, hell. Frank was a bitter, self-absorbed bastard and a sorry excuse for a father. And Tyler considered himself an expert on lousy dads. Living with Big Joe had equated to sharing space with a rabid Rottweiler. He’d made himself scarce until the second he turned eighteen, and then officially got the fuck out. When Joe had tipped over from a heart attack a few years later, Tyler had figured he was finally done with the man, but unfortunately, losing his father was like losing a limb. Sometimes he still woke up in a cold sweat, reeling from the phantom pain of beefy fists pummeling him.

Frank, however, still lived and breathed, and as certain men would do, aimed his foul mood at his offspring. Tyler sympathized with her situation, even as he told himself to stay out of it. She clearly wasn’t looking for sympathy and didn’t seem keen on sharing details. He respected her desire to keep her own counsel. Having just gotten an earful of Melody and Roger’s sex issues as well as the latest gossip concerning his own maligned manhood, he understood the advantages of discretion. Why her silence left him vaguely disappointed and wondering if she ever confided in anyone, he couldn’t say. God knows they had far better things to discuss than Frank.

The humidity had kicked Ellie’s waves up a notch—closer to the wild tangle he remembered. Absently, he tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and spotted the small mark on her forehead.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?” She glanced at him uncertainly, but her cheeks went up in flames when he ran his finger over the tender spot near her hairline. “It’s nothing. You can thank Frank for that.”

A fist gripped his gut and his vision actually hazed for an instant. He carefully placed his half-empty beer on the bar and stood. “I believe I will,” he said softly.

“What?” Her brow creased as she worked out the meaning of his reply, then her eyes went wide, and she placed her hand on his forearm. “Tyler, wait.”

He shook his head, eased out of her hold and started for the door.

“Wait,” she repeated, more urgently this time. Her heels clicked on the wood floor as she hurried after him. When she grabbed his arm again, he took a deep breath to calm the tide of fury rising inside him before it crested and broke all over the wrong person.

She faced him and spoke quickly. “Frank didn’t lay a hand on me. I got this cleaning up his pigsty of a living room. One of his empties tried to make a break for it.”

He searched her face for a long moment, looking for signs of evasion, but she returned his stare unblinkingly. She was telling the truth—or mostly the truth. Some of the tension seeped out of him. Shifting his attention to her forehead, he skimmed his thumb over the small welt.

“You’re not his maid.”

She laughed, but the sound held no hint of humor. “Worse. I’m his daughter. I can’t even quit.”

“Sure you can. You ask me, he quit a long time ago.”

“Maybe you’re right, and God only knows what kind of loser that makes me, but joyless as it was, he did his duty by me. I always had a roof over my head, food to eat, and a bed to sleep in. I guess I feel compelled to do the same for him now.”

Tyler moved his lips over her temple and across her cheekbone. “He’s the loser, not you. And you don’t owe him a damn thing. His duty went far beyond three squares and a cot.”

“You don’t understand…” Fingers curled into his belt loops and a hot face pressed into his neck. He felt a sudden, nearly uncontrollable desire to bundle her up in his arms and carry her away—far away.

“Try me.”

“God, no.” She took a shaky breath, and then pulled back and offered him a stiff smile—no dimples. “It’s over and done with. I can’t think of a bigger waste of breath.” She looked around the bar as if to see if they’d attracted any unwanted attention—they hadn’t—and then fixed a determinedly brighter smile on her face. “Like I said, I’m here to get away.”

Screw precautions. Her reasons for wanting to expand her sexual repertoire didn’t matter to him as much as finding a way to erase the shadows from her face. Moving closer, he toyed with the trio of small gold leaves dangling from her earlobe. “I know a foolproof getaway plan, if you’re interested.”

Her eyes zoomed to his. “Could we complete lesson one?”

Shit, he should have known the prospect of getting back on schedule would tempt her. “If you want.” For starters.

“My place?”

“No, my place. The best getaways involve a new destination,” he argued when she hesitated. But the truth was, he wanted her in his bed, for reasons he preferred not to think on too deeply. “C’mon.” He took her hand and led her out of the pub.

“My car…”

“I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

She cringed. “No. I’ll follow you. People don’t want to see the town doctor’s car parked all night at a bar. Bluelick’s grapevine thrives on tidbits like whose car was parked at Rawley’s after closing on a Saturday night.”

Shit. She had a point. And as he acknowledged it, very entertaining notions about spending the drive discovering exactly what she had on under her tight little skirt dissolved. “Okay, follow me to my place.”

Chapter Nine

Ellie kept her eyes on Tyler’s black pickup while her mind frantically reviewed the finer points of chapter 3. Finally, an opportunity to put her studies into practice, and she wanted to get everything exactly right. Excitement and nerves tangoed in her stomach, and not just because this represented a first step toward achieving her long-term goal of winning Roger’s heart. It also had to do with Tyler. She was attracted to him—physically, of course—but in other ways, too. He made her laugh. He challenged her. Coming up short in his eyes would be mortifying. Bottom line? She cared what he thought.

The realization surprised her, but then again, he was full of surprises. Nobody, ever, in her entire life, had displayed a single protective instinct toward her. Back at Rawley’s when he’d stalked toward the door like a dark knight about to slay her dragon, he’d shocked the hell out of her—and stirred something deep inside her heart. Whatever it was, she harbored a small fear she’d never quite push it back into place.

You will
, her logical mind insisted. She’d always taken care of herself, pursued her goals on her own, and slain her own dragons. How? By making plans and sticking to them. Which brought her right back to chapter 3. Once again she called up the details she’d committed to memory and quizzed herself.

But when she followed Tyler’s truck down a narrow, oak-canopied driveway and pulled up in front of his house, the lesson plan in her head faded. She didn’t register stopping her car or stepping out. The graceful slopes and angles of the beautifully restored wood-and-brick Victorian in front of her commanded her full attention, from the custom-turned rails in the big, wraparound porch to each painstakingly fitted shingle on the dominant front gable.

She sensed rather than saw Tyler approach, because she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the house. “Incredible. Like a storybook—”

He brought his mouth down on hers. While he kissed her until her head spun, he maneuvered her up the front steps. Lips still busy on hers, he worked the old lock on the front door and then shoved her into the hall.

She broke away for air, but couldn’t resist angling her head to see more of the interior. All she could make out in the dim light were creamy plaster walls and lots of dark wood trim. “Your house is amazing.”

He nuzzled her ear. “I almost forget the blood, sweat, and tears this place cost me when you look at it like that.”

“I love big, old homes. I think owning one must be like becoming part of a family. Can I look around?” Her voice caught on the question when he backed her up against the door. Her handbag hit the polished oak floor with a soft thud.

“I’ll give you the tour later, if you’re a good girl.” His hands skimmed up her abdomen until his fingertips encountered the underwire of her bra. He shifted the cups just enough to make her shiver, despite the heat.

“A good girl?” she managed as his hands ran over her, lighting fires everywhere they touched. “Longfoot, you’re letting the whole teacher/student thing go to your head.”

“It’s gone somewhere, but I don’t think you’re going to complain.” His hands sneaked under her skirt and into the back of her panties. He hauled her up against him, and she quickly realized the only complaint she had was that she couldn’t get close enough. Animal instinct kicked in and she climbed up his big, solid frame. Arms locked around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, she rocked against him, not caring that her skirt was bunched up at her hips.

Seconds later, he had her blouse unbuttoned and her bra shoved aside. She held her breath as he cupped her breast and growled appreciatively. She knew she didn’t have a whole lot to appreciate, and generally preferred if guys left her breasts out of the proceedings, but Tyler didn’t squeeze and knead them like bread dough. No, he smoothed and caressed and lavished attention on her understated curves until her nipples tightened to sensitive peaks. The scrape of his rough palms made her thighs clench. When he caught the hard beads between his long fingers and pinched lightly, she felt the tug all the way to her core.

Oh God, if she didn’t do something fast, he was going to take her completely off her plan again. With strength born of desperation, she wriggled out of his hold and slapped her palm against the center of his chest. “Not so fast, Tyler. We’re covering chapter 3, remember?”

“Fine by me.” Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“What are you—?”

“Better hold on.” He curved his hand under her hip, supporting her, and shrugged her thigh over his shoulder. The move forced her off-balance. She scrambled for a handhold along the rock-hard muscle of his other shoulder.

“This isn’t chapter 3,” she protested as he brushed his lips over her thigh.

“Sure it is.” Lightly, he bit the other, and then followed up with a kiss.

Then he kissed in between. Her neck muscles dissolved and her head hit the door with a clunk.

His tongue traced the edge of her panties and delved beneath. She switched her grip from his shoulder to the top of his head, not sure if she meant to stop him or give him encouragement. He took it as encouragement, and sent his incredibly talented tongue on another pass.

“Tyler…” Was that whimper really her? “Y-you’ve got things backward.”

Through half-closed eyes she saw him smile. His grip on her backside tightened. “Backward, my ass. Sparky, prepare yourself for a lesson you’ll never forget.”

…

Tyler heard his bossy student whisper, “Wait,” when he moved in for the kill, but he ignored her. No more waiting. He went in—fast and furious and more than a little out of control. Her fingers plunged into his hair and twisted so hard he figured he’d have a bald patch by the time she finished, and he really didn’t give a shit. The way she rocked her hips and pushed herself against his tongue tipped him off that she didn’t either. Hell, she was off to the races. He leaned in, using his weight to trap her hips tighter between him and the door, and did his damnedest to keep the pace so urgent she wouldn’t have time to think.

He quickly discovered that, for Sparky, not being able to think didn’t mean not being able to talk, because her breathless monologue reached his ears.

“Oh…God. That feels amazing, but I can’t—

“You can. Thirty seconds, tops.” To prove his point, he flicked his tongue dangerously close to the bull’s-eye.

She jerked and let out a tortured little moan, but still had the gall to argue with him. “I never can, not even during a reverse chapter 3. Don’t take it personal…”

Determined to render her speechless, not to mention just plain wrong, he adjusted his grip on her hips, closed his mouth around her slick, swollen clit, and sucked until her entire body trembled.

“Ohmigod! Oh…my…God. I think I’m going to—

Hell, yeah, you are
. But before he could send her over, Beethoven’s Fifth chimed from somewhere by her feet.
What the…?
A reluctant glance down confirmed what he already suspected. The symphony came from her handbag. He looked up at her, silently questioning.

She was a sight to behold. Eyes closed, lips parted, looking sweaty, flushed, and incredibly beautiful.

The symphony chimed again. She let out a long, slow, shaky breath, muttering something about being cursed to a life of solo orgasms. Then those big, dazed eyes opened and landed on him, brimming with disappointment. “That’s probably my service.”

“I was afraid you were going to say something like that.” Doing his best to pretend the sinking sensation in his chest stemmed from his heart pumping blood, double-time, to his highly frustrated dick, he scooped her bag off the floor and handed it to her, then slowly eased to his feet.

“No, no. Don’t get up! You never know—this could be a quick question about a prescription.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Doc.”

She sent him a grateful look and dug around in that big bag of hers for her phone while simultaneously attempting to push her skirt down. He couldn’t offer much help with a medical matter, but getting a woman in and out of her skirt? Different story. He took over the chore—and took his time with it—while she concentrated on her call. By the time she finished, he was really just entertaining himself, using the job of smoothing her skirt as an excuse to run his palms over the perfect handful of her ass.

“I’m sorry, Tyler.” She tossed her phone into her bag, avoiding his eyes, and got to work refastening her bra. “I have to go. A patient’s baby girl spiked a 103-degree fever. I’m meeting them at my office.”

“No need to be sorry.” Though he was, incredibly, as he watched her tuck her pretty little breasts away behind her pretty little bra. “Every once in a while it’s bound to happen—someone’s gonna need you even more than I do.”

He’d meant the comment as a glib reference to the minor medical emergency still straining the front of his jeans, but the whole “need you” part came out strangely serious. It gave him pause. Her, too, apparently, because her fingers fumbled on her blouse buttons.

“Thanks,” she said, giving the task of buttoning her blouse far more concentration than it warranted. “That’s sweet of you—a charming reaction to a distinctly un-charming situation. Unfortunately, we’re getting nowhere fast on my educational goals. If I don’t start mastering some skills soon, it’s going to be too late.”

Sweet? Had she really just called him
sweet
? He drove a Harley, for Christ’s sake. He got shot at in bars. Not on a regular basis, no, but if nothing else, taking a bullet in the ass ought to mean nobody called him sweet. Next she’d be calling him
nice
, and if that happened, he might as well tie a big pink bow around his balls and hand them over. On top of all that, what the fuck was up with the “too late” business?

He flattened his palms on the door, trapping her, and leaned in close. “Too late for what? Tell me, Ellie, before you scoot out my door. Is the world going to explode?” Unwanted images of her wrapped around Roger, and then Chief Bradley, burned in his mind, and set a nasty little fire in the pit of his stomach. “Or is somebody going to switch status from ‘available’ to ‘off the market’ before you can make a move?”

Wide, worried eyes flew to his, and then quickly shifted away.
Bingo
, he thought, for once hating to be right.

“I …” she swallowed and started again. “I have a schedule I want to stick to. Like any self-improvement effort, it’s important to keep the momentum. I’m not blaming you, Tyler.” Her eyes darted back to him and she smiled weakly. “I mean, tonight’s interruption isn’t your fault. I just thought we’d have at least one lesson completed by now.”

“Momentum. I see.” He reached behind her and opened the door. She wanted momentum? He’d give her so much freaking momentum that she’d get completely caught up in the ride and forget where she planned on going. “In that case, what are you doing Tuesday night?”

She blinked. “Nothing.”

“Feel like taking a shopping trip to Lexington?”

“Chapter 6?”

“Yep.”

Her loud gulp almost made him laugh out loud. Now who was sweet?

“Okay,” she said, but he noticed the bravado in her voice didn’t match her round eyes and pink cheeks. Momentum restored, just like that.

Yet as he watched her taillights disappear down his drive, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d just let his student get the better of him.

…

Tuesday afternoon, Ellie raised her head from her chart notes when her office door opened. Melody stepped inside. Normally smooth, blond waves tumbled chaotically around a face past due for a powder and lipstick touch-up. Her once crisp white blouse and swingy yellow skirt bore creases and a few unidentifiable stains. Still, Ellie had to admit, Melody looked sexily disheveled. Meanwhile
she
probably looked like she’d spent the afternoon in a sweatbox.

Melody closed the door, adjusted one of the framed diplomas on the wall, and then plopped down in one of the pair of forest-green upholstered guest chairs opposite the desk. “Whew! What a day. I swear it felt like Grand Central Station in here an hour ago.”

Ellie propped her elbows on her big, orderly polished walnut desk. “Nothing fills exam rooms like an outbreak of hand, foot, and mouth virus among the preschool set. You did an amazing job handling the onslaught.”

The blonde shrugged off the praise, but smiled. “The little ones are super-cute, and I’m glad it turned out to be nothing serious. But we had a packed schedule
before
the panicked mommy calls started. Squeezing an extra six patients in at the last minute, making up the charts, collecting the insurance information and co-pays—I won’t mind if we don’t see a rush like that again for a while.”

“Me either. Are they all gone?”

“Yep. We’re officially done for the day. I don’t know about you, but my bathtub and I are going to spend some quality time together.”

“You wild woman,” Ellie teased.

“Hey, you never know.” Melody got to her feet and winked. “I might see if my bunny swims.”

“You have a pet rabbit?”

“No. Come on, Ellie, you know…
The Bunny
.”

When Ellie shook her head, Melody’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my God! You’ve somehow missed out on the single girl’s best friend. Do yourself a favor and Google it. Have your credit card handy. You won’t be sorry.”

“Um. Okay. Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too, honey. Though unless you pony up for next-day delivery, you’ll have to wait five to seven business days before you have a good night.”

Curiosity got the better of her. As soon as she heard the outer door close, she turned to her computer, launched Explorer and typed “the bunny” into her search engine. Within minutes she found herself in a new and heretofore unexplored world of vibrating elastomer personal toys. Fascinated, she clicked on various styles, reading the product descriptions, the specs, and customer reviews. She had to admit all the sizes, colors, and…mercy…the capabilities of the darn thing intrigued her, and frankly, turned her on, but the idea of stimulating herself to orgasm without the benefit of Tyler’s lips, hands, and a few other essential parts seemed hollow—like getting an A on a book report by skimming the CliffsNotes instead of reading the book.