Читать книгу The Cop - Jan Hudson, Jan Hudson - Страница 11

Kelly charged in the back door of the hospital and collided with Warren Iverson. “Sorry,” she said and tried to step around him.

He blocked her path. “Careful, Dr. Martin. You could have injured someone. Have you been drinking?”

She wanted to clobber him. He knew very well she’d toasted the bride and groom—and had a second glass of champagne. He’d been at the reception taking notes.

“Excuse me, I have an emergency.” She pushed past him and hurried for the nurses’ station. Let the old goat stand there and sputter. She didn’t care.

The news on her elderly patient, Mrs. Phelps, was not good.

After Kelly checked her, she said to the nurse, “I think you should call her niece immediately.” Mrs. Phelps’s only relative was a niece in Shreveport. “And her pastor.”

Kelly elevated the frail woman’s bed to make breathing easier, smoothed damp gray tendrils back from her forehead with a cool cloth and sat holding her hand until someone from the church came to stay with her. Dammit, this was a perfect example of the town’s need for hospice care. She felt totally inadequate. Nothing in medical school had really prepared her for having to say goodbye to her patients. Oh, there was the usual admonition about staying objective and emotionally detached, but she’d never been able to do it. She cared too much.

But could anyone care too much?

She said a silent prayer and slipped quietly from the room.

When Kelly got home, she took a long bath and put on soft knit lounging pants and a top. She heated a can of chicken noodle soup, but she ate only a bite or two.

Restless, she turned on the TV, then turned it off.

Neither Rocky nor Pierre seemed in the mood to cuddle. They had retreated to their hidey-holes.

Pacing didn’t help. She wanted to scream or weep or…something. But she didn’t dare start crying or she might not stop. She hugged herself and shivered. She desperately needed—

“To hell with this!”

She grabbed her keys and hurried to her car. The car headed toward the Twilight Inn on autopilot.

When she arrived, Kelly hesitated before she knocked on the apartment door. He probably wasn’t even there. With all his family in town, he was probably visiting with them or—

The door opened.

Cole smiled when he saw her. “I thought I heard someone drive up. I’m glad it was you. Come in.”

She strode past him and stood stiffly in the middle of the room. Only a table lamp by his recliner was on, and a paperback book lay opened and facedown on the chair seat. She nervously smoothed her wild hair. “I look like a witch.”

“You look like an angel. Maybe a little wild-eyed. What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath. “I need—I need—”

“What do you need?” he asked softly.

“I need to be held.”

He opened his arms wide, and she flew into them.

Being enclosed in his warmth and strength felt heavenly, and her head fit perfectly against his shoulder. Tension eased as she melted against his chest. Even the walker rails between them didn’t bother her…at first.

Then she gradually realized what those rails meant. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing away. “You don’t need to be holding me up.”

“Sure I do.”

“No. You don’t.”

“Then let’s move to the couch, and I can do a better job of it.”

Kelly didn’t argue. She was too forlorn to argue. Mindful of his injuries, she cuddled against him on the couch, and he held her. More tension eased, and she allowed herself to free-fall into the comfort and security he provided. He held her for the longest time and didn’t say a word. And the longer he held her, and the more she savored the solace of his arms, the more she realized how desperately she had needed this for years—someone to lean on now and then.

She was a strong woman. She’d had to be to make it as a doctor, but even the strongest person needed TLC once in a while.

“Want to talk about it?” Cole asked quietly.

Kelly shook her head. “Not now.” She burrowed closer. “This feels so good.”

“Glad to oblige.” He rubbed his chin against the top of her head. “Your hair is so soft. I thought it would feel different.” He sifted strands through his fingers.

“It’s like kinky kitten fur,” she mumbled against his chest.

He chuckled and she felt the rumble against her cheek. “It’s like a blazing fire. I love your hair.”

“You should try to brush it in the mornings.”

“Be glad to give it a try.” He nuzzled her forehead.

The nuzzling became kisses, and slowly the kisses became caresses. She hadn’t worn a bra, and soon she wasn’t wearing a top. She ought to stop this, she thought, but his touch consoled such a deep ache that it mesmerized her, and she just couldn’t stop.

When he stroked her breasts and drew them into his mouth, she lost it, and all thought of stopping ended. She gave herself over to glorious sensation.

Piece by piece their clothes landed in heaps on the floor as they fondled and kissed and explored. He whispered praises for her body, and she basked in the praise; he kissed her deeply, groaned his desire, and she soared.

“I want you,” he said.

“I want you, too.”

“I’m not sure I can. My hip, my—”

Her lips stopped the words. “Let the doctor handle it. Lie back.”

She knelt, straddling his hips, and leaned over to kiss him as she slowly slipped herself onto him.

“Oh, darlin’,” he groaned. “Take it easy.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Not hardly. But I want this to last.” He drew her down to take a nipple into his mouth and suck hard.

It sent her through the roof.

“Forget lasting,” she said as she moved up and down in a frantic pace.

They both climaxed powerfully and quickly. Backs bowed, release shuddered their bodies and drew gasps and groans.

Still kneeling with him inside, she snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder. He hugged her tightly, and she savored the last throbs of their passion.

“If this kills me,” he said, “just tell everybody that I died happy.”

Kelly laughed. “I don’t think you’re in danger of dying.”

“Then just throw a blanket over me and wake me in the morning.”

“Cold?”

“No, but I might be when the lather wears off. We don’t have any clothes on.”

“Sure we do,” she said, rubbing her foot along his leg. “We have our socks on.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You are some kind of woman.”

“What kind is that?”

“The good kind. I’ve had a hard-on for you since the first time I saw you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You’ve been on my mind a lot.”

Smiling smugly, she twirled damp strands of chest hair around her finger. She’d never thought of herself as the object of anyone’s sexual fantasies.

Reluctant to move she stayed there until the chill became uncomfortable. Finally she rose, snagged her clothes and went to the bathroom.

She’d barely had time to dress when Cole tapped on the door. He’d pulled on sweatpants.

“Your cell phone is ringing.”

Kelly knew what the message would be before she answered, and she was right. “I have to go,” she told Cole.