Читать книгу When Good Things Happen To Bad Boys - Lori Foster - Страница 8

Libby punched her pillow hard, shoved it this way and that, but it didn’t help her get comfortable. And she knew why.

For three weeks now, she’d tried to forget the big lug and his compelling dark eyes. Her first foray into sexual matters had been less than awe-inspiring—if she ignored the way he’d made her feel. But she couldn’t. She remembered it oh too well. Every single shiver and tremor and spark and gasp. It plagued her mind and left her achy and fidgety and…needy. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like him.

So why couldn’t she get him out of her head?

Flopping to her back and throwing an arm over her face, Libby tried to block out the memory of how exciting he’d been, how sexy—up until the moment he’d turned into such a jerk.

He’d called her a baby. Now there was a laugh. Maturity was her middle name. Losing her mother so young had forced her to grow up quick, to plan her life long before most kids even thought about tomorrow, much less years down the road. She was mature all right—but given the tantrum she’d had on him, he’d never believe that now.

Of course, she’d never see him again, so what did his beliefs matter?

It mattered, blast him, because he’d gotten her all primed, showed her what she’d been missing, then turned as prim as a maiden aunt. All his suave, macho confidence had melted beneath sputtering incredulity.

All because she was a little younger than him.

How old was he anyway? Thirty-three or four? Certainly not old. Twelve years was no biggie. Not to her. Not to most men.

She’d considered asking Uncle Elwood about him, but luckily she’d snuffed out that idea before it had a chance to take root. Her uncle would have a complete conniption if he ever found out she’d been playing hanky-panky in his gardens. He wanted her to study, graduate nursing school, and remove herself from his responsibilities.

And she would, as fast as humanly possible.

This meant she needed to relegate good ole Brown Eyes to the status of an opportunity missed, and stop thinking of him. That should have been easy to do. Never before had she had a problem dismissing guys. First there’d been the grief for her mother. Then the uncertainty of living with Elwood. And her studies. Her determination.

Guys just hadn’t factored into her priorities.

Before meeting him.

But now he had her so blasted curious, she thought she might implode. In one short, unsuccessful interlude, he’d managed to turn her into a sex maniac. She wanted to find out all there was to the whole intimacy game. Maybe the time had come for her to notice the masculine sex.

Other guys wouldn’t mind her age or inexperience. She knew plenty of men, from college, from working, even from the hospital. When she smiled at them, they always smiled back. They seemed delighted by her attention. And a few of them even had dark brown eyes.

Not eyes like his, but…

Tough tootsies. Her choices were limited, so she’d have to make do. But first things first. She wasn’t a dumb girl to mess up her life because of a little sexual exploration. She was a woman of the new millennium. A modern woman. If she intended to be sexually active—and she sort of did—then there were certain precautions to take.

She’d set an appointment first thing tomorrow. Not with a doctor at the hospital. Heaven forbid her uncle should get wind of her private plans! No, she’d hunt in the phone book, pick someone out of the way, and take care of business.

Then she’d find a guy who suited. There had to be one out there for her. And maybe looking would prove fun.

Mind made up, Libby punched her pillow one last time and settled in to sleep. But sometime during the night, dark brown eyes and a sensual smile invaded her dreams, and she knew in her heart that any man other than him would simply be a substitute.

Since she didn’t even know Brown Eyes’s name, a substitute was all she could have.

It’d been damn near a month. A month of celibacy and Axel couldn’t take it. Since that fantasy-inspired interlude in the garden, he’d been turning women down. It was enough to curdle his blood. He was worse than a married man. At least they had wives at home. All he had was one super sexy young lady who had turned him inside out for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand.

Letting her occupy his mind in his off hours was bad enough, but no way in hell would he let her affect his work. When in the office, he had only the well-being of each patient on his mind.

He snatched up a file on his desk, determined to read the medical history on the young lady he’d see next. A moment later, his thoughts back in order, he nodded. His newest patient appeared healthy as a horse. No history of serious medical problems. She only needed a routine exam to get a prescription for birth control.

Wearing his doctor face, Axel went down the hall to exam room three. Along the way, Nora—who was both a nurse in his employ and his best friend’s wife—fell into step beside him.

Nora said, “This one is a little skittish. I take it she’s never seen a gynecologist before.”

Axel nodded. “Thanks. We’ll try to make her at ease.” As he opened the door and drifted in, Nora on his heels, he was already saying, “Good afternoon, Ms. Preston. How are you to—”

Her screech of horror made his hair stand on end.

Axel back-stepped and bumped into Nora, who bumped into the hallway wall.

“What in the world?” Nora sputtered.

But Axel couldn’t say a damn thing. There she was, on his exam table, buck naked except for a paper sheet. “Good Lord,” he rasped, his aplomb thoroughly shot to hell.

“Get out!” she yelled, and then in utter horror, “Shut the door.”

His brows came down in a snap. To Nora, Axel said, “I know her. Give us a moment, please.” He did shut the door—but with him on the inside.

“Kindly lower your voice.”

Wide-eyed and white-faced, a pulse wild in her throat, she stared at him. Her small hands clutched that paper sheet so tight, he could see every single curve beneath. Not good.

Turning his back, Axel drew in a calming breath. “My entire waiting room is probably agog with curiosity after that scream.”

She said, “Ohmigod. Ohmigod, I’m sorry. Just…please. Get out.”

Axel peeked at her over his shoulder. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was damn hard. But he kept his gaze on her face. “There’s no reason to be so embarrassed.”

Her mouth fell open. “No reason…You idiot, I’m naked.”

Don’t go there. Don’t go there. He resolutely cleared his mind of all sexual images. He was a doctor, a damn good doctor, a concerned, caring medical professional—who had never been in quite such a predicament.

He hadn’t even had a chance to tell her to scoot down.

He swallowed a groan. “I’ll step out,” he assured her in a rush before she fainted, which she looked ready to do. “You can get dressed, and then we’ll talk.”

Her mouth dropped open again and just as quickly snapped shut. “We have absolutely nothing to say to each other. Nothing. Now leave.”

The hell they didn’t. She’d come to him to get on the pill, after claiming to be a virgin. Apparently she meant to remedy that awesome circumstance.

He faced her fully, crossed his arms over his requisite white coat, and glanced at her small bare feet. So dumb, but even that little glimpse at pink toes, for crying out loud, and his stomach muscles tightened.

“You came here for birth control. If you don’t want me as your doctor—”

“Ha!” As if hunting for something to throw at him, she looked around his office. Holding the sheet tight with one hand, she stretched over to grab a metal tray.

Axel held up a hand. “I can recommend someone.”

She froze in midreach. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Uh, no.”

She clutched that stupid sheet tighter, and Axel prayed the paper wouldn’t tear. He watched, just in case, but no, it didn’t.

Her chin lifted. “That’s such a generous offer,” she sneered with a load of sarcasm, “but no thank you. I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help.” And then she went one further, saying, “And I wouldn’t trust one of your friends.”

“Oh, that’s low.” He leaned back on the door. “I am a very good doctor, I’ll have you know, and I would never recommend someone who wasn’t highly qualified.”

“That is just sooo kind.” More and more sarcasm. “But if you’d simply remove yourself, I’ll leave and handle my business entirely on my own.”

Axel didn’t budge. “You want birth control.”

“Oh God.” She rocked back and forth a little. “Go. Away.”

He wanted to stay and hash it out with her. He wanted to grab her and kiss her silly. He wanted…but no, he had no choice. He had to do as she asked. It was the only decent, professional thing to do. He grabbed the doorknob. “Get dressed and then come to my office.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Face stiff, Axel left the room, and a second later he heard the frantic rustle of paper as she all but leaped off the table. He could picture her dressing with the same frenzy she’d employed when dragging up her pants and closing her shirt after he’d given her a screaming orgasm in the chilly gardens of his host’s party.

God. Not a good memory at the moment.

He detoured into his private rest room and closed the door. After splashing his face with cold water and giving her plenty of time to dress, he sauntered out and headed for his office. On the outside, he looked calm and in control. He hoped. Because on the inside, every single fiber of his masculinity stood on high alert.

His office door was open, the room empty.

Damn it. Axel strode to the window and jerked up the blinds just in time to see her jump into a beat-up old Ford Escort and gun the motor. She ground the gears, squealed the tires, and drove away as if wild dogs nipped at her heels.

He dropped the blinds with a clatter, so frustrated he wanted to—

“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

Taken unaware, Axel spun around to see Nora standing in his doorway. He tried to wipe all expression from his face.

She smiled, closed the door, and leaned on it. “Come on, Axel. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Mmm hmmm.” Her disbelief was palpable. “I’ll just call Cary and see if he knows anything about—”

“No, don’t tell him!” Frustration mounting, Axel ran a hand through his hair, then dropped into his leather chair. He had about two minutes before his next patient would expect him. His attempt at a lighthearted laugh fell flat. “It’s really stupid.”

“I expected no less of you.”

He made a face. Nora had been married to his best friend for three years now. True, she’d seen both sides of him, the respected, serious doctor and the take-it-easy, live-life-to-the-fullest playboy. Never before had the two collided with quite so much fanfare.

Naturally, Nora would enjoy sharing his plight with others. She knew that he’d harassed Cary plenty when Cary fell in love with her, just as he’d done to his brother, Booker, when Booker had gone head over ass in love with Frances. Not that Axel intended to fall in love. Hell no.

He’d only just learned Libby’s name!

But this little debacle could count as woman trouble, if either Cary or Booker wanted to stretch the facts. If they learned that a woman—a patient, no less—had screamed at the sight of him, they’d give him crap till the day he died.

“Ahem.” Nora tapped her rubber-soled shoe. “I can have Cary on the phone in less than a minute.”

Axel gave up with a groan. “She’s…someone I met at a party.”

“And?”

“We got mildly involved.”

“Mildly involved? What does that mean, exactly?”

Axel leveled her with a look. “You really don’t want details, now do you?”

“Oh.” Nora drew back with a frown. “And she wanted you to be her gynecologist? How odd.”

He could understand her astonishment. “It’s not like that. She didn’t know it was me.”

Shaking her head, Nora said, “She didn’t know what was you?”

Axel shoved to his feet to pace. “We never got to the name exchange, all right? We hit it off—sexually, that is. We just sort of went with it. Then things went wrong—and no, you don’t want details about that either. We parted company, end of story.”

And since then, he’d thought of her at least every other minute.

“But you never learned her name?”

He tapped the file on his desk. “I know it now. Libby Preston.”

Nora slowly shook her head. “Lord, Axel, this is incredible, even for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed his face. “When she screamed, I damn near had a heart attack.”

Fighting a grin, Nora said, “I had a heck of a time explaining things to the women in the waiting room.”

He could only imagine. “What’d you tell them?”

“That a sonogram had shown triplets.”

Axel laughed. “Good thinking. That’s enough to make any woman shout.” He immediately sobered. “I wanted to talk to her.”

“So talk to her.”

“I can’t.” Remembering the way she’d laid rubber in the parking lot, he scowled. “She ran out on me.”

“So now you have her name. You even have her phone number and address.”

Removing temptation, Axel shoved the file toward Nora. “That’d be unethical in the extreme. Given her reaction here, I’d say she obviously doesn’t want to see me.”

“No!” Feigning shock, Nora gaped at him. “It can’t be. A woman who’d reject you? I’ll be disillusioned for life.”

“Ha ha.” But to set the record straight, Axel explained, “I sort of embarrassed her. By…sort of rejecting her first.”

“Uh-huh. And?”

“She’s only twenty-one.”

“So?”

“I’m thirty-five, Nora. A sophisticated doctor. A seasoned womanizer.”

Nora rudely laughed.

“I am, damn it.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he muttered, “She’s barely out of high school.”

“I took her history, Axel. She’s twenty-one, totally legal by anyone’s standards. If you like her—”

“Like has nothing to do with it.” Lust drove him, nothing more. Pure, unadulterated, unfulfilled lust. “In fact, I’m not sure I do. Like her, that is.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Axel narrowed his eyes on Nora. Since marrying Cary, she’d gotten awfully cheeky. “The young lady has a temper that could flay a man alive. And she doesn’t moderate what she says. And she’s a…”

“A what?”

He pinched his mouth shut. Libby’s sexual history, or rather lack of history, was listed on her file, but he wouldn’t discuss it with anyone. “Never mind.” And then, “Her name is Libby. A pretty name, huh?”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Culligan is waiting on you. And if you’ve never waited naked in a paper sheet on a cold plastic table, then let me tell you, it’s excruciating.”

Axel knew that. He made it a point to be especially sensitive to the needs of his patients, and he went out of his way to make the ladies feel as comfortable with him as he could. He never kept them waiting, was always as gentle as humanly possible, and treated every woman with extreme respect.

Which meant his personal woes would have to go on the back burner for now. “Right. Let’s go.”

Nora shoved Libby’s file back across his desk with deliberate provocation. “Take care of business. Finish out the day. Then call her. If she tells you to lose her number, then yes, calling again would be a breach of professionalism. But until you call, until you give it a shot, you just don’t know.” And with that instruction, Nora left the room.

Knowing he couldn’t make a rational decision right now, Axel followed. And because he really did care about the women he treated, he succeeded in stifling all thoughts of Libby.

At least until his last patient left.

Then he sat down at his desk, picked up her file—and finally made up his mind on what to do.

At seven o’clock, with the sun still out and birds still singing, Libby curled into the corner of her open hide-a-bed, wearing a nightshirt, a rumpled sheet over her lap, only half watching the kick-ass movie she’d rented from the video store. She didn’t want to go to bed yet, but she didn’t really want to stay up either. She felt miserable. Cold on the outside, hot on the inside. Achy and mortified and mind-numb with the reality of what had happened.

Her toenails were now painted purple, she’d put intricate braids into her hair, and she’d given herself a facial. None of that had been distraction enough. An uneaten quart of cherry cordial ice cream sat on the end table, a soup spoon spiked into the middle. She’d meant to have a binge, but somehow, that didn’t really appeal either.

Moving to Timbuktu appealed. Changing her name and her identity appealed. Raping one very delectable doctor…No. She detested him, and the embarrassment he’d caused her. She really, really did. Sort of.

Blast it, she was lonesome. And soooo mad.

But it was red-hot, unbearable humiliation that she suffered most of all.

Groaning aloud, she curled in on herself and for the millionth time relived that awful moment when Dr. Dean had stepped into the exam room. Her heart had shot into her throat and her stomach had bottomed out when those brown eyes she remembered so well had locked with hers—then skipped down her sheet-covered body.

Thank God her feet weren’t in the stirrups.

She hadn’t been sure about that part, if she was supposed to be ready when he came in or if he’d want to talk first. Luckily she’d decided to remain stiff and straight until instructed to do otherwise.

At first, he’d looked very much the doctor, professional but detached—then scorching recognition had flooded his expression. After she screamed.

She curled tighter, half laughing at herself, half moaning in tortured agony. She’d actually done that, screamed like a raving lunatic and ordered him out of his own office. Wearing no more than a sheet. Waiting for him to…

No! No, no, no. She was not going to keep thinking about it.

So she’d screamed. Big deal. Under the circumstances, screaming seemed a reasonable, perfectly understandable reaction to discovering his true identity.

Oh why oh why did he have to do that for a living? And why, out of all the docs in town, did she make an appointment at that one particular office? Once again, fate had dealt her a raw deal. She and fate were now on very bad terms.

There were no answers to the questions she’d already asked herself over and over again. She shoved back the sheet and padded barefoot toward the fridge to put the ice cream away before it melted. Halfway to her kitchenette, a knock sounded on her door. Never mind that it was Friday night. Never mind that she was a single woman at a very dateable age. She never got company, and she didn’t want any now. She continued on and shoved the ice cream into the freezer.

But ignoring her unwelcome visitor did no good because the knock came again and again until she stomped across the floor and flung the door open.

A potent, dark brown gaze captured her. “Hello.”

She actually stumbled back a step before forging forward again. “You!”

He leaned one shoulder on the doorframe and casually—like she wouldn’t notice—stuck his big, booted foot in the doorway so she couldn’t slam it on his handsome face.

“Yeah, me.” He gave her a quick once-over, frowning at her braids before meeting her gaze with a look of accusation. “You left without saying good-bye.”

Libby blinked at him in disbelief. He came to her dinky apartment because he felt slighted? What a buffoon.

What a sexy hunk of a buffoon.

She’d seen him at the party wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and at his office wearing the clichéd white coat and casual tie. Now he wore an ancient T-shirt with a football logo on the front and broken in, faded jeans that looked soft, comfortable, and casual.

No matter what he wore, he looked too delicious for words. “Trust me,” she told him, ignoring his inviting appearance, “I was hardly in the mood for friendly conversation.”

He looked her over again, slower this time, lingering in impolite places and making her wish she wore sweats and a thick housecoat. Suddenly he realized he was doing it and snapped his attention back to her face. “May I come in?”

“No. Anything else?”

His long, drawn out sigh fanned her face. “Could I at least apologize?”

Her eyes narrowed. “For what?”

Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, for making you scream.” And in a lower, sincere voice, “I’m sorry you were embarrassed. If it’s any consolation, I was plenty shocked, too.”

No consolation at all. “You weren’t naked and on a table.”

“No.” His mouth twitched. “But I’m a doctor. A professional. Despite our…association, I would have—”

Libby drilled his hard chest with her finger. “Not in this lifetime, bud.”

A smile brought out golden lights in his dark eyes. “I understand. Again, I apologize. Now please, let me in. I want to talk to you.”

“Are you done apologizing?”

Wary, he said, “No?”

“You don’t know?”

He huffed. “All right. I’m sorry for calling you a baby, too. Obviously, despite the odd braids in your hair, you’re a mature young lady. But you are young and it threw me. I figured you to be much older.”

“Ignore the braids. I was bored. But on the inside, where it counts, I’m an old lady.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. “I haven’t been with anyone your age since I was eighteen.”

Exasperation exploded from her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re saying you’re into older women?”

“Experienced women,” he clarified. “Because I accept who and what I am—”

“And that is?”

“Not a conversation for your hallway.” He stiffened, put out and fed up. “Now let me in.”

Libby examined a fingernail. “You were apologizing?” she prompted.

Seconds ticked by while tension thickened in the air. “All right. I’m also sorry that I…well…”

“Left me hanging?” she offered, her temper flaring again at the awful memory. “Gave me a bite, but not the whole meal? Led me on? Implied false promises? Made—”

He bent and kissed her, hard and fast. “I get the point,” he growled, “and yes, I’m sorry for that, too.”

Libby went mute. Even that, a smacking kiss that lasted less than a nanosecond, and she was ready to invite him in.

Still leaning far too close to her mouth, he said, “It was a first for me, and it’s plagued me ever since.”

Libby licked her lips, and because he was close, she tasted his lips, as well. “Plagued you how?”

He stepped in, crowding her back with his big body and closing the door behind him. He smelled good, like aftershave and fresh air and hot male. His wind-rumpled hair made her fingers itch to touch it. His five o’clock shadow made her skin tingle, imagining how it’d feel.

He stared at her, filling her with the swelling warmth she remembered oh so well.

“In every way known to man.” He leaned back on the door, his gaze level, probing, saying more than his words could. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if I hadn’t blundered so badly. And most of all, I can’t stop thinking about how nice it likely would have been to make love to you.”

“Oh.” So maybe they were finally on the same track.

His hands closed over her shoulders, slowly dragging her closer. “And on that note…I’d like to help if I can.”