Adams, Cara - Calling Doctor Wolf [Shape-Shifter Clinic 1] (8 page)

“No, thank
you
,” said Danny, pressing tender kisses to the back of her neck.

“Our pleasure entirely,” added Oscar, running a hand through her tangled hair.

Danny got up and headed into the bathroom and when he came back it was Oscar’s turn to leave.
Oh, yes, the condoms. Hmm, I need a shower, though.

After Oscar returned she said, “I need a shower, now.”

“I like that idea. The shower looks quite spacious. How about we all shower,” suggested Oscar.

Ambrielle found her legs were quite wobbly when she climbed off the bed. Danny grabbed her arm to support her.
Wow. I’ve never been fucked so thoroughly I couldn’t stand before. There’s a first time for everything, I guess.

The bathroom wasn’t big, but it was okay, although she wasn’t at all sure two such large men would fit in the shower with her. “I’ll go first. If you get in the water won’t reach me,” she said.

Danny sat on the side of the tub and handed her the shampoo and conditioner for her hair. Oscar sat on the facilities with several towels in his arms ready to help her get dry when she’d finished in the shower.

Ambrielle had to hide a giggle. This was turning into a scene from a teenage pajama party, where everyone was sitting around watching everyone else. The next thing she knew, someone would start telling ghost stories.

Then she shivered. Was this it for tonight? Would she get dressed and go home now? Or would they sleep together tonight with the possibility of more sex in the morning? After all tomorrow was Saturday, not a traditional workday, although she guessed the men might sometimes work weekends since they lived on site at the clinic. And doctors could be needed at any time of the day or night, too.

* * * *

Oscar saw her shiver. She was likely very tired after working all day, then dining, dancing, and sex. He had to remember she was human, and female, and he needed to look after her.

“Come on, time for bed,” he said.

“I need to rinse the conditioner out of my hair first.”

“What is it with women and conditioner? All a man needs is a bit of soap,” said Danny.

Oscar smiled. He knew Danny used shampoo and conditioner like many men did. He also knew that, again like many men, he pretended not to use such girly things.

He let the conversation flow over his head as he thought about how loving and giving Ambrielle had been in bed. So sweetly accepting of them both, so totally fulfilling in everything she did. A true treasure and one he planned to keep close to them both. Which meant getting their apartment fitted out so they could invite her to stay with them any night after work, instead of having to make special arrangements. Not that she wasn’t worth special arrangements, just that it removed any possibility for spontaneous action.

He helped her get dry then sat on the side of the bed as she snuggled down under the quilt. After Danny was showered, he took his turn in the bathroom, coming back to find Ambrielle sound asleep and Danny sitting up watching her.

“What about tomorrow morning?” Danny asked quietly.

“Likely she’ll be sore. She said she hadn’t been in a relationship for a while.”

“That’s what I thought. She was tighter than hell and just so good. She’s so beautiful.” Danny looked down and rested a finger against her cheek.

She didn’t stir. Oscar knew that meant she was very tired, but all he wanted to do was hold her. Hold her and never let her go. Even though he’d just possessed her, it wasn’t enough. He needed to be with her with a deep passion he’d never felt before. In fact, he’d never felt about anyone, ever, the way he felt about Ambrielle. She was just so…right. That was the word. Being with her felt right. She completed him in some deep way he didn’t even understand, which was weird because she was human, not wolf. But it was an undeniable fact. He shook his thoughts off. “We need to get our apartment fitted out as fast as possible.”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking. I’ll get back to the painting later and concentrate on our apartment for now.”

“We’ll finalize the plans for that tomorrow after we take her home.”

“Once it’s all completed, we’ll be able to suggest to her that our home could be her home as well,” said Danny.

“Hell yes. If everything goes well that’s the logical next step.”

* * * *

Danny woke in the morning with the hard-on from hell, but he forced himself to ignore it. Ambrielle had been perfect last night. Pushing her into sex again would be totally unfair to her so soon in the relationship. And this was going to be a relationship. He was determined about that. Today he’d start work on their apartment and he’d work night and day until it was done.

No more chatting to the patients about color schemes or wasting time down at the lumberyard talking to the people there. He’d settle down and get the apartment to a state where they could have Ambrielle over whenever she agreed. Assuming she would agree. She’d certainly seemed to enjoy herself, so hopefully she would date them again. Oh, flowers. They had to remember to send her flowers as soon as they got back to the clinic.
I wonder what kind of flowers she likes? She likes strong colors even though she wears black for work most of the time. But her quirky nail polish colors show she likes other things. Probably she just feels colors aren’t appropriate for business wear or something.

Mentally Danny walked through the top story of the house, working out where he’d put the kitchen and the bathroom—a bathroom big enough for three people to shower together—and where their bedroom would be. One large bedroom and a smaller guest room. A large living room so they could invite people over and entertain in private. He’d need to get a plumber and an electrician in to work on the kitchen and bathroom, so likely he should frame them up first. Hmm. He needed to check the windows. The ones with the best views should be where the living room was set.

But he kept looking down at Ambrielle. She was starting to wake up and was snuffling a little bit into the pillow, wiggling her butt on the sheets. He hoped her ass wasn’t too sore. It’d burn a little from last night, but he didn’t like the thought she might be in pain. But she wasn’t whimpering or anything. They were just waking-up noises, he thought.

She was so beautiful. Even with her hair all tangled on the pillow, and her body buried under the quilt, she was dead sexy. And he wanted her. Again. Still. Always.

Almost in an instant she was awake and sitting up. “Oh my God, what’s the time?”

“It’s Saturday, not a workday,” said Danny soothingly.

“Oh, that’s right.”

Oscar rolled over and faced them both. “Shall we go downstairs and have breakfast in the restaurant?”

“Not in that dress. Everyone will think I’m a hooker.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. And I guess you won’t want to go through the drive-though and get takeout in case you spill sauce on it.”

“Exactly.”

“Room service!” said Danny.

“I’ll hide in the bathroom while they deliver it,” Ambrielle said.

“And we can all eat naked, so if anything gets spilled it doesn’t matter,” added Oscar.

Danny laughed and was still laughing an hour later as they ate and joked and made fun of each other, sitting naked on the bed, using their bath towels as a tablecloth and to protect their bodies from any spilled hot food.

They were still laughing as they escorted Ambrielle to her front door and watched her go inside.

I think I love her. No, I know I love her.

* * * *

Last night had been the best night of his life. Oscar wanted to relax in an armchair and just remember every tiny detail about their time with Ambrielle. But unfortunately life wasn’t like that. Saturday was just another day in a clinic. People got sick, physiotherapy and rehabilitation programs didn’t take weekends off, patients still needed to be fed, and rooms cleaned. Dammit.

After another shower and changing into regular clothes, Oscar visited with each of his patients, talking them through their progress and checking them for signs of overtiredness or infection. Shape-shifters were stronger than humans and healed faster. But, just like people, some of them tended to try to do too much too quickly, and needed to be warned to slow down or they’d go backward health-wise instead of getting better.

Then he picked up the pile of mail which someone had put on Ambrielle’s desk and took it through into his office. A lot of it would go straight back into her in-tray—accounts to be paid, patients’ paperwork to be entered on the computer or placed in their files—but there were some things he liked to deal with himself. He read every potential patient’s letter himself, deciding if their health issues were the kind of thing he could help with.

Oscar focused on letting shape-shifters heal at their own speed. Given the right amount of nutritious food and the opportunity for carefully monitored exercise, broken bones mended quickly, injured soft tissues healed and could be strengthened. But in a regular clinic shape-shifters were often forced to slow themselves down to fit in with regular programming timelines, or else they signed themselves out of clinic and went home where they promptly tried to do too much exercise too fast and ended up with more damage instead of less.

Transforming into their shifter was a case in point. The act of transforming could speed up healing. But if the patient then went for a long, fast run, all the good work could be undone by the time they returned. Transform, yes. Run very far, no.

Oscar settled into his chair, tilting it back until his head rested against the wall and his crossed ankles were on the edge of his desk. Then he opened the mail, glancing through it and placing it into two piles, the smaller one for him to read, the much larger group to be handed directly to Ambrielle.

There were several prospective patients, all people he was sure he could help. He scribbled a few notes on those letters and dropped them onto Ambrielle’s pile, then opened a large letter in a heavy, embossed envelope.

As he read the first few paragraphs he was confused by the long-winded legalese. He went back to the beginning and began reading again. The more he read the more confused he became, but it was confusion with an undertone of anger. Who were these people? What the fuck did they think they were saying?

Oscar dropped his feet to the floor and the legs of the chair crashed to the ground. He didn’t notice. He was too busy pulling a notepad over to his right hand so he could write down some key points. He wanted to be sure he understood what this letter actually said.

It seemed that George, his cousin, George Thorne, was contesting their grandmother’s will because he’d been told he and he alone would inherit the property. But that was insane. The probate had been discharged months ago. The title to the land was free and clear and given to him months ago—five, almost six months ago. There’d been no doubt about the will. Their grandparents were in full control of their mental faculties. His grandmother was arguing politics with her doctor on her deathbed. No one could even suggest she didn’t know what she wanted right up until the day she passed on. What was George on about here?

He and George were the only grandchildren, their fathers the two sons of their grandparents. George had inherited their grandparents’ shares and bonds, Oscar, the old house. He’d never bothered to weigh up the exact monetary value. Perhaps the shares had lost value and he’d received more than half their assets, but the will had been clear in the division of property and hadn’t mentioned cash value at all. However, he’d be happy to give George some money if he felt he’d been unfairly treated. So why had George sent a legal letter? Why not just call him up and state his case? Or even visit? Hell, he knew where the house was, after all. Was this why George had seemed cross with him? Why didn’t he just say something? George knew Oscar would always listen to him. Why act like this? Why bring an attorney into the situation when he’d never said anything about it?

Oscar reached for the phone to call his cousin, then he thought again. Wasn’t there some etiquette rule about always replying in the same manner as the invitation? Well, a legal letter was hardly an invitation, but still, likely he should reply in writing.

Then he thought again. If George had his panties in a wad about this, perhaps he should talk to his attorney instead of just replying off the top of his own head.

Oscar clicked through the address book on his phone. He’d never had an attorney until he’d inherited this property, but there she was, Sierra Bond, Bailey and Bond Attorneys at Law.

The phone rang for quite a long time before Sierra picked it up. “Sierra Bond.”