The Rose of Blacksword (72 page)

“This is Maggie Springer,” she said. “I believe you have a page for me.”

Joel knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. This siren was the dried-up, androgynous prune Lydia had lined up to teach him about
sex
?

It took a moment or two before her call came through. Joel was still trying to control his erratic breathing when she turned and smiled
at him. “I’ll be through with the phone in a moment.”

“No hurry,” he returned. “I’ll just stand here and kick myself all the way to the other side of the room.”

“Pardon?” She gave him a puzzled glance, then returned to her phone call.

Joel watched the expressions that played across her face as she listened to her caller. She was even more beautiful up close, and definitely a whole lot sexier. Her sultry scent wafted intimately around him, the disturbing essence torturing his senses, making him think of dusky nights and hot caresses beneath cool sheets.

“My class is nearly full,” he heard her say into the receiver, “but I might have one more seat avail—”

Click.

Without thinking, Joel severed her connection.

No one was taking that last seat in her classroom but himself.

She turned, spearing him with darkening eyes. “You don’t have a lot of patience, do you? I told you I’d be only a minute. Here—if your page is that important, be my guest.” She thrust the phone into his hand.

Joel hung it up and gave her a wide smile. “
I’m
taking that last seat in your class.”

Her mouth gaped, and he fought down the most powerful urge to kiss it, savor the taste, feel it open under his, but he doubted at the moment the woman would be receptive. Later, he promised himself. Later he’d enjoy it to full measure.

“And who are you, might I ask?”

“Joel Benedict.” He offered her his hand, but she refused it.

“Ah,
Doctor
Benedict.” A smile curved her lips. “The man who referred to my course as psychobabble, I believe.” She folded her arms across her pert breasts that rose and fell with her every breath. “I think you also mentioned something about ‘boring, intellectual prattle’ as well.”

“Lydia has a big mouth,” he barked.

“Lydia is a friend of mine.”

“She still has a big mouth.” And he was going to enjoy making her take call on every weekend and major holiday for the coming year. Revenge was sweet.

Just then he heard his hospital page again. “Uh, excuse me,” he said, reaching for the phone behind her. He would make this quick. Damn quick, he decided as he saw her sashay off.

Maggie Springer gathered up her gym bag. Her friend Lydia had been right about one thing—Joel Benedict was gorgeous. She flung her towel over her shoulder and aimed one last admiring glance in his direction.

He was sleekly male in his snug gym shorts, his muscles taut under a faded red T-shirt. There was a hint of silver in his black, slightly curly hair, with a thread or two at the temples to make her curious about what life experiences had put them there. His eyes were an incredible silver-gray, cool, but they had exuded a definite heat when his gaze settled on her.

She dug in her gym bag for change for the juice machine. Exercise made her thirsty. Finding two quarters, she started toward the brightly lit machine in the alcove. She wondered if Joel Benedict would show up for class tomorrow. She had the feeling there wasn’t a whole lot she could teach the man about sex, but it might be fun to try. Professionally speaking, of course.

She reached up to drop in her quarters and make her selection, but a male hand stopped her. She felt the heat of it as it closed over hers in a firm grasp.

Joel smiled down at her. “My treat,” he said. “What would you like, grapefruit, mixed tropical, or … passion fruit?”

She returned his smile with a sultry one of her own. “Passion fruit.”

Ah, yes, Joel thought. Any famed sexpert worth her degree would make that choice. He’d bet there wasn’t an inhibited bone in that pretty little body of hers. Or were there things about herself she didn’t reveal to anyone—even a lover? He found himself wanting to know more about Maggie Springer.

“What time do we start tomorrow?” he asked, handing her the chilled can. He had some schedule rearranging to do before then, primarily lining up Lydia to take over hospital rounds for him.

A taunt played at her lips. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll find my class … dull?”

He doubted there was a thing about this woman that he’d find dull. “I’ll take my chances.” He dropped in two more quarters for a drink for himself.

“To Sexology 101,” he said, tilting his can to hers in a mock toast.

“To Sex Talk,” she returned, and took a swallow.

Joel enjoyed the creamy line of her throat as she drank. What would it be like to trail kisses along that slender column? he wondered. He
felt a definite deprivation when she lowered her drink again and took away his view.

“Tell me, Doctor,” she said, her earthy brown eyes stapling him to the spot. “Why didn’t you want to take my course?”

The woman was direct. “Does the reason matter?”

“I’m a psychologist. It makes me naturally curious when I get a student who resists. I always want to know why.”

“I see— and if there’s some deep-seated reason?”

Her gaze played with his face for a moment. “Well, we all have our little fears, Doctor. Our … vulnerabilities.”

“And you want to know
my
vulnerability?”

Joel Benedict made her
very
curious. Maybe more than he should. She cared a little too much why he hadn’t wanted to sit in on Sex Talk—and why, now, he was more than eager to. “Can’t blame a girl for asking,” she said simply.

“And you can’t blame a man for not answering.”

She grinned at that. “Ah, yes, the mysterious male. I did a thesis on him once.”

“And what did you learn?”

“Any number of interesting facts.”

Joel had the feeling this woman could look straight into a man’s soul, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that much perusal into his.

Still, he’d be there tomorrow for her first session, not to have his feelings probed, but to see what the teacher had to offer. “I’m, uh, needed in the East Wing. Maybe we can continue this discussion another time.”

“In class tomorrow, Doctor?”

“In class.” He had the feeling he just might be letting himself in for more than he should.

Lydia said Maggie’s seminar would be lusty.

Joel leaned back in his chair in the small, overheated hospital classroom, anticipating fireworks. If the room decor was any indication of what Maggie had in her teaching plan, there would be plenty.

He hid a small grin as he read the words she had strung around the room like miniature billboards. B
REASTS
. V
AGINA
. P
ENIS
.

As a doctor, he was more than familiar with the terms, of course, but he was more accustomed to encountering them between the pages of an anatomy text than gracing the walls of hospital conference space.

INTERCOURSE. CONDOM. ORGASM. The
word list grew bolder as it circled the room, a border of technical jargon that piqued his curiosity more than a little.

He slouched down in his seat in a vain effort to avoid the young resident he’d sold his seat to a few days before, but it was too late; he’d been spotted. “Uh, Sam,” he said, striving for offhand. “Interesting class.”

“Interesting
instructor,
” the lanky red-haired Sam returned with an exaggerated wink, then, with his hands, he outlined what Joel presumed was meant to be Maggie’s curvy shape.

Joel saw red. “That ‘interesting instructor’ is not the reason you’re here.
Keep that in mind,
” he retorted, surprised at his own vehemence.

If anyone was going to define Maggie’s curvy shape, it would be him—and not with his hands in a classroom of seminar attendees.

He knew he was far too intrigued by her as it was. He had to be crazy to even be thinking about pursuing a woman who’d have him examining inkblots on their first date. On the second, she’d be analyzing his responses for clues to his inner psyche.

Was it worth it to have the tempting beauty to himself for an evening? He wasn’t sure he wanted his inner psyche probed. Few men did—but he resisted even more than most.

Life was a whole lot simpler—and enjoyable—when it wasn’t scrutinized closely.

He speared a hand through his hair and crossed one leg over the other as Maggie stepped out from behind the speaker’s stand and smiled out over the class. He wanted to think that wide smile was directed exclusively at him, but there were eleven other men in the room no doubt thinking the same thing—including the randy Sam. Again he felt that quick stab of jealousy—uncharacteristic jealousy.

There were also three women in the group, only one of whom he knew on a first-name basis. Ruthie, he thought her name was. All were poised with pen in hand, ready and eager for the session.

Maggie was busily explaining the objectives of her course, looking every bit as heart-stoppingly sexy in a wild plum tunic-length sweater and that skinny little black skirt as she had in her skimpy gym garb yesterday. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a frenzy of red-gold curls.

Her earthy voice drifted toward him like a wafting tendril, slightly husky, sexy as all get-out, and as sultry as a hot summer wind.

She was deep in a discourse about the differences between the sexes. Basic med-school stuff, he thought, but with a twist. He half listened,
more intrigued by her low, throaty voice than by what she was saying.

“We’re going to try a class exercise this morning,” she announced, “one that will loosen you up and get you in the right frame of mind for what you’ll be learning over the next few days.”

He flashed one quick glance at the wall, certain the words displayed there had something to do with this loosening-up process she spoke of.

“The tide of this course is Sex Talk,” she went on, “and the aim is to learn to communicate with your patients in whatever words they choose to use in place of the terms you see posted. For example, a patient having a physical problem involving his … male genitalia may not use the anatomically correct term but resort instead to a colorful euphemism such as …”

Joel clearly got the picture.

As she spoke, she moved up and down the aisles, handing out marking pens to each attendee. When she came to him, she smiled. “Still expecting
boring
, Doctor?”

A corner of his mouth edged up. The other members of the class were clambering out of their places, all too eager to record each and every dirty little word they had knowledge of
beneath the corresponding medical one. “Boring? Hardly boring, Ms. Springer.”

She handed him a pen. “Feel free to try a word or two, loosen your inhibitions.”

The woman didn’t know what she was asking. He had damn few when it came to her. “Is this what the well-trained psychologist is teaching these days?”

She met his amused smile. “My methods of teaching may be a little unorthodox, but they’re highly effective.”

They were that. As unorthodox as those earrings she was wearing, small silver coils that looked suspiciously like IUDs. He watched them bob with each tilt of her head. She obviously enjoyed her teaching role, enjoyed unleashing minds with the outrageous, the novel, the unique. Maggie Springer was a surprise in a small package—and too damned tempting to ignore.

“The word list, Doctor. You’d better hurry before all the best ones are taken.”

Joel glanced around the room. He’d seen more polite scribblings on subway walls, not to mention public rest rooms and telephone booths. A few of the more creative ones in the group were even illustrating their words with crude drawings. “I think it’s already too late.”

Maggie smiled. “Ah, now, Doctor, I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you can come up with a word or two that would knock the socks right off this class,” she baited him.

“Maybe.” Joel hadn’t exactly led an angelic existence growing up. He’d sowed more than his share of wild oats. But these days he didn’t go along with the crowd; he’d given that up with his adolescence. Still, he wanted to keep Maggie there—talking to him, close enough to touch, her husky, whispery voice brushing across his nerve endings. “What if I don’t do the exercise—will you keep me after class?”

Maggie sucked in a breath. She wasn’t quite sure how to handle Joel Benedict. Keeping the man after class did hold a certain appeal. Too much appeal. She had a course to teach, and getting her thoughts derailed by this big, sexy man was not the way to do that.

Her three-day seminars were very popular, with a waiting list to get into them. She deliberately kept the class size small, no more than fifteen students at a time, so she could take an individual interest in each attendee.

Her gaze glided over Joel’s broad shoulders and disarming male grin. She had the feeling that taking a personal interest in
him
could get her into trouble.

“Tell me,” she asked, “why are you resisting what I’m trying to do here?”

He gazed up at her and shifted in his seat. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is resist you.”

Maggie was taken aback momentarily. The man made her a little crazy. “Participation is an important part of my course. It opens up our lines of communication, empowers us to reach our patients on a new level.” Joel would think she sounded like a textbook, but when she was nervous, she fell into the habit of intellectualizing—and Joel Benedict definitely made her nervous.

“By scratching graffiti on walls?”

If he noticed her nervousness, he made no mention of it. “Yes—if that’s what it takes to release us from our inhibitions, become comfortable with our sexuality. Whatever it takes to be able to talk to our patients.”

“I’m comfortable with my sexuality, and I have no trouble talking to patients about anything.
Including
sex.” He paused for a brief moment as if to think back on his bedside manner. “At least, my patients don’t complain.”

Maggie felt her temperature rise a notch. She had little doubt his women patients had
no complaints—as long as he smiled at them the way he was smiling at her.