Doctor For Keeps

“Yeah. That’s Emma,” he said with pride. “Cutest kid in the state. But I’m biased. I’m her godfather.”

Anyone who seemed that taken by a child couldn’t be all bad. “What did Mark and Angie say about me?”

He looked away as if the subject made him self-conscious. “Angie said you’re single, and that you were very nice when she met you.”

Miranda wondered what kind of judgments the woman could make in a five-minute conversation over a coin-operated washing machine. “That was nice of her.”

“Now, Mark, on the other hand, basing his opinion solely on visual observations, made a few other comments, most of which ticked Angie off.”

“Criticisms?”

He grinned. “No. Just your general male assessments. Great hair, great legs. He was right about most of them.”

“Most of them?”

He pinned her with his brown eyes. “The part about you being beautiful.”

Miranda mentally flinched. Whoever said flattery would get you nowhere hadn’t lived in her literally defective skin. No one outside her grandmother, a few former classmates and one ex-boyfriend knew of her imperfections. No one ever would, if she could help it. “What wasn’t he right about?”

“He said you looked uptight. That you wouldn’t accept an introduction, much less an invitation from me.”

Two days ago that might have been true. But tonight…well, tonight was different. She was different. In fact, she felt absolutely reckless for the first time in years, and she welcomed the freedom. “That just goes to show you can’t always trust first impressions. So does this mean I’m the victim of some kind of macho wager between you two?”

“No wager. In fact, I had no intention of meeting anyone right now. Not until tonight.” His smile disappeared and he looked all too serious.

Her former self screamed No! Don’t risk it. But the new, more daring version of Miranda Brooks urged her to forget her concern and go for it. “Shall we go inside now?”

With a satisfied smile, he handed her back the near-full beer and grabbed his own. She followed him into a living room laid out much the same as hers with the exception of a small fireplace. But unlike her apartment, everything was neat and orderly. Comfortable and homey. Drawn to the caramel-colored sofa, she stepped forward and ran her hand over the soft beige leather. Real leather. She couldn’t afford that. Not yet.

“Should I keep the door open and let the bloodsuckers in, or should I close it and risk you bolting on me?”

Miranda turned to find Rick with his hand poised on the knob of the open door. “You can close it.” Her heart seemed to skip a succession of beats.

“I won’t lock it,” he said as if he’d sensed her apprehension.

He closed the door and leaned back against the frame, one hand still wrapped around his beer bottle, the other hidden away in his pocket. Even in the glare of artificial light, he looked gorgeous, his smile sexy but reassuring. “Do you want another beer?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not sure I can finish this one. But you go ahead.”

“Nope, one’s my limit since tomorrow’s Monday. How about a soda?”

“A soda sounds good.”

“Soda it is.” He pushed off the door and walked into the adjacent kitchen.

While she waited for his return, Miranda’s curiosity switched into overdrive. She set her beer on a black plastic coaster on the oak coffee table and strolled to the mantel. Studying the row of pictures, she found one of Rick holding a tow-headed baby. At least she’d garnered proof he was a legitimate friend of the Wilsons.

She picked up the photo to look more closely. Rick’s dark complexion and black hair contrasted with the baby’s fair skin and blond fuzz. He was looking at the child with adoration, his smile soft and gentle. Obviously the little girl had touched his heart in a big way.

The sound of clinking ice cubes startled her, and she immediately put the photograph back in its place. She studied the other shots, one in particular, a wedding photo she recognized to be the auburn-haired Angie Wilson and her husband—Mark, she remembered Rick saying—big, blond and boyishly handsome. They gazed at each other with un-disguised devotion. Miranda’s envy filtered out in a sigh.

“A drink for the lady,” came from behind her.

She turned to find Rick holding out a glass of soda from a few feet away. He walked to her, and when she took hold of the drink, their fingers touched, creating more havoc on Miranda’s heart rate. She quickly pulled away, sloshing the liquid over both their hands. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wiped away the moisture with the napkin he’d brought her, tossed it onto the table, and then rested his elbow on the mantel. She turned to face him.

Amusement glinted in his eyes. “You’ve been checking me out?”

Her face fired into another hot blush. “What?”

He nodded toward the photograph. “The picture of me and Emma.”

Thanks heavens he hadn’t noticed her gawking at his chest earlier. Or maybe he had. “She’s a very pretty little girl.”

“Yeah, she is.” He grinned as though Emma was his child.

Rick headed toward the stereo positioned in the corner of the room. He crouched down and started sorting through a box of CDs. “What kind of music do you like?”

“I liked what you were playing earlier.”

“It’s called ‘Secret Love.’ Kind of corny, but one of my mom’s favorites. She makes me play it when I go home.”

How sweet for him to play his mother’s favorite song, she thought. How wonderful he still had a mother. Miranda fought the memories. She wouldn’t let the sadness that had been so much a part of her life ruin her good mood.

While she sipped her soda, he continued to shuffle through the CDs. “If you can’t find what you’re looking for,” she said, “you could play for me again.”

“I found it,” he said, then inserted a CD in the player. The melodic strains of a folk guitarist filtered through the speakers, music as unfamiliar to Miranda as the concept of being with a strange man in a strange apartment. Both were oddly seductive.

“Who is that?” she asked.

Rick stood and came back to her. “His name is Mannie Marquez. He started out locally. I predict he’ll make it big soon.”

Miranda allowed her eyes to drift shut for a moment as she absorbed the haunting tune. When she opened them, she found Rick staring at her. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yes, it is.” He reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Very beautiful.”

In all her imaginings, Miranda hadn’t prepared for this reality. She felt more courageous than she’d ever felt before. “Tell me something, Rick. Do you dance?”

Surprise crossed his expression. “Dance? As in here? Now?”

“Sure. Dancing is relatively innocent, don’t you think?”

He regarded her with a grin. “Relatively is the key word. If you intend to do the twist, that’s relatively benign. If you want to do the lambada, then that could be relatively dangerous.”

“Nothing like that,” Miranda said, surprised at how breathless she sounded. “Just your average slow dancing.”

He hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. “I’m game.” He took her drink, placed it on the mantel and offered his hand to her.

Miranda immediately regretted her request. Her last dance partner had been her daddy, before he’d been torn from her life ten years ago, leaving a big empty hole that she’d never been able to fill. She released a nervous laugh to mask her emotions and fear of inadequacy. “I hope you don’t expect much.”

He captured her again with his midnight eyes, intense and questioning. “I don’t expect anything, Randi. I promise.”

She started to tell him she’d meant in regard to her dancing skills. But suddenly words didn’t seem necessary, and she walked into his arms.

Two

He was easy to dance with. Easy to talk to. And darn sure easy to look at. They had a lot in common: watching baseball live, football on TV and stand-up comedy any time they had the opportunity. Although Miranda tried to learn more about Rick, he always managed to turn the conversation back to her life. He acted as though what she said mattered, something she could honestly appreciate. A long time had passed since she’d had someone to talk to. Someone who really listened.

She even liked his taste in music, Miranda realized as he selected another CD, this time a light jazz number filtered lazily through the speakers.

When he approached her again, she took a subtle glance at her watch. Lord, had she really been there for more than an hour? At the moment, she didn’t care about the time.

“That’s nice, too,” she said as he drew her back into his arms. “Another colleague of yours?”

“Colleague?” He looked startled, then smiled. “Oh, music’s only a hobby.”

He certainly fit her image of the consummate musician. “Then what do you do for a day job?”

His gaze slid away. “I work with kids.”

The man was almost too good to be true. “That’s wonderful. What exactly do you do?”

He finally looked at her through a veil of dark lashes most women would kill for. “Let’s not talk about work. Tonight we’re just Rick and Randi trying to forget about the daily grind and the fact that tomorrow’s Monday.” He touched her cheek. “Trying to forget about everything but right now.”

Up to that point, he’d kept a comfortable distance between them. Then, as if on cue, the tempo slowed and he drew her closer.

“Even though it’s not your standard dance floor, this isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked with a half smile.

No, in fact, it was good. Very good. “I’m surprised I haven’t taken out a couple of your toes.”

He searched her eyes as if trying to find more secrets. “Don’t sell yourself short, Randi. You’re a natural. That’s important in many things.”

Her breath caught at his comment. If he referred to lovemaking, unfortunately she had no experience along those lines.

As the song continued, then another, they gradually moved a little closer with each track until Miranda was flush against Rick, engulfed in his strong arms and his male essence. He bent his head and pressed a cheek against her ear. He radiated heat at the point where her breasts met the solid wall of his chest. Her blouse dampened there and she could also feel the dampness beneath her fingertips where they rested against his back. But the most notable heat came from deep within her body, pooling in places she had long since learned to ignore.

He slipped one arm underneath her hair at her nape and lifted it slightly away from her neck, then drew back and studied her face. The moment seemed to suspend, as the conversation had a while ago. She thought he might actually kiss her. She hoped he would.

Instead, he stopped moving. “It’s hot in here. I think the air conditioner’s on the fritz.”

Miranda’s whole being clutched with loss when he dropped his arms from around her and moved away. The mood was suddenly shattered. “Yes, it is a little warm.”

But he was gone just long enough to open the front windows, turn on the ceiling fan and turn off the overhead light, leaving only a small illumination coming from the kitchen.

“Is that better?” he asked, taking her back into his arms.

Miranda wasn’t sure how to answer. Yes, it took care of some of the external temperature problems, but the inferno still raged within her. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Good.” He brought her back against him.

Again they fell into an easy rhythm as they swayed in time to another easy song. She found herself holding on to Rick tighter, as if he might slip away as all good fantasies tended to do. His hands traveled lower and came to rest just below the spot where her hair met her waist. His touch was real, not imagined. Not a dream, although dreamlike.

Miranda’s pulse pounded in her ears when he brushed a kiss on her cheek. Her heart beat wildly out of control when he pressed the small of her back, bringing their hips closer together. She felt his bold arousal against her belly, and the air left her lungs.

Well, she was aroused, too. More than she ever imagined being. Her mouth went dry and she automatically licked her bottom lip. That seemed to capture his fascination. His gaze dropped to her mouth then came back to her eyes.

He softly said, “Miranda,” as if testing the sound, followed by a kiss on her forehead, her jaw, then a feather-light caress on her lips. He met her gaze again, his eyes full of questions, as if seeking permission to continue. She gave it, not through words, but by leaning forward until their mouths met with a hungry passion.

This is crazy, her mind shouted from somewhere far away, but she didn’t heed the warning. She was too lost in the heady feelings Rick roused with the stroking of his tongue in soft fluid movements between her parted lips, the taste of beer and need. She did hear a moan and realized it had come from her. The kiss ended almost as abruptly as it had begun.

Rick released a ragged breath and touched his forehead to hers. “Randi, you need to go.”

Had she done something wrong? Did he find her kisses lacking? “You want me to go?”

“No. That’s why you need to go.”

Miranda’s stomach dipped and churned as if she’d hopped on a runaway roller coaster. She felt giddy, light-headed, totally out of control. A man hadn’t wanted her in a long time. Not since college, and that one awful experience had convinced her to live a lonely, celibate life. For self-protection, she had never let herself be wanted.

At the very least, giving in to this breathtaking desire for Rick was risky. She didn’t even know his last name. And if she continued on the present course, her life might never be the same. But she didn’t care. Until now, she hadn’t been living.

Miranda decided not to question why she had chosen this enigmatic stranger with devilishly dark eyes, a soft spot for kids and strong yet gentle hands, to fulfill her fantasies. Perhaps because he was a stranger and knew nothing of her past. Maybe it was the bond she seemed to have with him, as if she’d always known him. In a way she did know him. He was the answer to her prayers, her dreams, her fantasies. At least for this one magical night.

Regardless, she had chosen him, and she wasn’t about to change her mind.

Miranda drew in a deep breath and released it with a sigh. “What if I don’t want to go?”

Rick was taken aback by Randi’s bold declaration and determined expression. Despite her obvious conviction, there was an innocence about her, something he found refreshing in the jaded sexual world he’d come to know.

He couldn’t fathom what he’d done right to be worthy of this angel on the doorstep, especially now that he was entertaining some wicked thoughts. But she deserved more than a one-night stand, and he couldn’t get involved with anyone right now. He didn’t have the time. Until he’d met her, he didn’t have the inclination. Even if he wanted a relationship, Randi probably wouldn’t approve of his occupation. Not to mention that his tenuous future didn’t include anything permanent. But her quick wit, no-holds-barred honesty and guileless green eyes made him consider things he shouldn’t.

He’d learned a lot in his thirty-two years, especially self-control. If he didn’t turn Miss Brooks around and march her outside, life’s lessons would be out the door instead of her.

Rick bracketed Randi’s face in his palms and searched her green eyes for the least bit of indecision. He didn’t find any. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying I want to stay. I want to be with you.”

He had to make her understand exactly how far this could go if she didn’t stop him. “I want you, Randi. All of you.”

“I know. I feel the same about you.” As if to prove it, she brought her arms from around his waist and fanned her palms in the opening of his shirt. Her touch seemed tentative, then more insistent as she feathered her fingertips across his chest. He was really sweating now.

“Your skin’s so hot,” she whispered.

That wasn’t the only thing. He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you take your shirt off?” She said the words without looking at him. Did she mean it? He aimed to find out.

He tugged the tails from his waistband and began slipping the buttons while she watched. Her eyes widened when he shucked the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it on the sofa. But she didn’t protest, or rush out the door. Instead, she circled her arms around his bare waist, sparking his imagination. What would it feel like to have her naked beneath him? His resolve weakened at the vivid mental image that thought created.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d only wanted the company of a beautiful woman who could hold her own in conversation and make him laugh. She had done both.

Of course, he had invited her inside in the first place. Obviously she’d read more into his intentions. But he’d kissed her first. He couldn’t help himself. Not when she looked at him like he was special, someone who could fulfill her fantasies.

When was the last time a woman looked at him that way? A woman who didn’t know who he was. Or what he was. Someone who expected nothing from him in terms of what he could do for their social standing.

Maybe she had just gotten caught up in the moment, the electricity that arced between them. If so, the time had come to slam on the brakes, before he couldn’t.

Then Miranda placed a kiss on his chest, right above his pounding heart, and his coveted control flew out the open window.

He slipped his hand underneath her silky hair and brought it to rest at the waistband of her skirt. When he began to tug her shirt up, needing to feel the bare flesh on her back, she flinched and pulled away.

“Are you really okay with this?” he asked.

Her smile was wan, self-conscious. “Yes, it’s just my back… I’m ticklish. It’s kind of weird, I know, but I don’t like being touched there.”

He grazed her cheek with a fingertip. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

She met his gaze, and he noted shyness in her expression, giving him pause. “You want me to tell you?”

“Unless you tell me, I won’t know.”

Randi didn’t answer with words. Instead, she took his hand and laid it on her left breast. Rick felt the butterfly beat of her heart and her nipple pebbling beneath his palm. He stared for a moment like a kid copping his first feel.

He’d had countless sexual offers from women, some he’d considered, some not. But he’d never met a woman like Miranda Brooks. The innocence shining in her eyes was in direct contrast to her saucy attitude and made-for-sin body. That innocence worried him the most.

What a time to get a conscience—when a beautiful brunette seemed bent on seducing him. But he didn’t want to hurt her, and he realized he could, even if he didn’t intend to. He had so little to offer, and she had something special that he couldn’t quite name. Something that had touched him on a deeper level than the physical. Something he didn’t care to acknowledge.

She pushed against his hand. Despite his caution, he stroked his thumb across her nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt, slowly back and forth. Her eyes turned soft and hooded, her expression languid.

He smiled to keep from moaning. “Is this how you like to be touched?”

“Yes.” She sounded breathless. God knew he was. If she was this responsive to such a simple touch, what would she be like when he really got down to business?

He took a mental step back. His gut instinct told him he might be making one giant mistake if he went any further. Then she reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, severing his last shred of resistance.

Removing her hand from the placket, he undid the remaining buttons at a snail’s pace, not only to draw out the tension, but also to allow her to stop him. When she didn’t, he pushed aside the blouse to reveal a silky champagne-colored camisole, no bra underneath. He cupped her breast again. The material felt cool to his palm, but he wanted to experience her warmth underneath the fabric.

She stood very still and for a moment he thought she might reconsider. Taking her back in his arms, Rick kissed her, then slipped one hand under the silk. Warm, supple flesh filled his palm. The muscles in his gut tensed as he struggled for control.

He broke the kiss and removed his hand from beneath the camisole in order to catch his breath and gather his scattered thoughts. Right now he should stop, the hardest thing he had done in a long time.

She brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “Make love to me.”

Oh, hell, she was making this damned difficult. How could he be a gentleman with someone so desirable in his arms, begging for his attention? He considered they were simply two consenting adults with normal biological urges. That’s what he kept telling himself, but he realized it was more. She was more than he had bargained for.

“Are you sure?” he asked, meeting her deep green eyes, bright with desire.

“Very sure.”

She sounded sure, but he had to know. And he had well-practiced ways of finding out. Then, if she chose to run, he’d show her the door and head for the shower.

Rick reached down and undid the button on the side of the sarong skirt. The flap fell to one side, revealing another button. He had to look down to undo it. Randi looked down as well, and together they watched the drama unfold while he released the last remaining obstacle. The skirt slipped easily down her narrow hips and fell in a heap on the floor at her feet. His eyes never left hers as he knelt and removed her sandals, one at a time, then stood.

Rick’s attention now focused on the scrap of white lace barely covering the dark shading at the juncture of Randi’s thighs. He slipped a finger just below the elastic. Her breath caught, and he looked up to find her eyes tightly closed.

“Randi, open your eyes.”

She did as he commanded, and she still had that same look, half-innocent, half-needy.

“Are you sure you want this?” Normally he would just let nature take its course. For some reason, he needed to hear her say it again.

“Positive.” Although her voice was unsteady, she looked as ready as he felt. She also looked tousled and incredibly sexy, her lips swollen from his kiss, her cheeks the color of his mother’s prized tea roses. A few wisps of her gold-brown hair ruffled in the breeze filtering in through the window.

She was an extraordinary, desirable woman, and he wanted her more than he should. His life was a mess, but he didn’t want to think about that now. Randi would help him forget, at least for a while.

In one swift move, Rick brought her tightly against him. He thrust upward and nestled in the cradle of her thighs. He kissed her with all the desire he felt.

Randi’s body went limp in his arms. Afraid she might actually join her skirt on the floor, he said, “Come to bed with me.” Of course, once they got to that point, he might have one hell of a time maintaining his resolve to take it slow.

She sent him a shaky smile. “That’s a good idea.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her into Mark and Angie’s room, now washed in the subtle glow of moonlight. He could only guess what the unsuspecting couple would think if they knew what he intended to do in their bed. Of course, Mark would give him a high five for his sexual prowess. Angie would give him a lecture on his rogue ways.

He could almost hear his best friend’s wife scolding him about his lack of commitment, reminding him how very few relationships he’d had. She would stress the fact it was way past time for him to think about settling down. But he couldn’t settle down, not now. Not until he’d done all that he could to fulfill the promise he’d made so long ago. Until he atoned for his myriad sins.

He felt a twinge of regret that his life couldn’t include a serious relationship. Especially with this woman.

This angel.

The sight of Randi clad only in white lace panties and champagne silk camisole, her long hair flowing over her breasts, chased away the arguments racing around his head.