Here I Am (11 page)

Ciara returned Brandt's warm smile. “Good morning.”

He patted the mattress, and he wasn't disappointed when she climbed into bed next to him. Ciara had stopped putting up the bedrail, permitting him to get in and out of bed unassisted to use the bathroom. This morning he'd washed his face and brushed his teeth, then returned to bed to wait for her. Leaning to his right, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Good morning. We're going out tomorrow afternoon.”

Ciara gave Brandt a sidelong glance. Brandt looked good. In fact, he looked better than good. He was delicious. The sun-browned richness of his tanned face gave it a healthy glow. His eyes were bright, shimmering with laugher. She swallowed when she noticed the outline of the bulge under the sheet.

She'd awoken early, lain in bed and called herself every type of fool for even contemplating taking up with Brandt Wainwright. The night before they'd watched a romantic comedy. He'd fallen asleep halfway through the movie and she'd turned off the TV and went to bed.

Sleep had been elusive; she tossed and turned while images of her writhing uncontrollably on Brandt's lap had come back in vivid clarity, followed by more images of an erotic dream wherein she wasn't on his lap, but on her back with him inside her. Never in her thirteen years of practicing nursing had she been so tempted by a man's body as now.

Her relationship with Brandt went against everything she'd professed. Dr. Victor Seabrook was a celebrity, but he paled in comparison to Brandt. However, her ambivalence about her unorthodox relationship with her patient disappeared whenever they shared the same space.

Ciara averted her gaze from his erection, asking, “Where are we going tomorrow afternoon?”

“I've been asked to visit some kids at a hospital.”

“Which hospital?” When Brandt told her, Ciara knew she would not have been upright if she'd still been standing. Why, she thought, did it have to be the
same hospital where she'd begun her nursing career? The same hospital where she'd met and subsequently dated Victor? The same hospital she'd fled when he'd become more demanding, possessive, when he'd sought to control her life?

Brandt saw Ciara clutch the sheet before her grip eased. “What's the matter?”

She affected a smile that only touched her mouth. “Nothing.”

“Please don't lie to me, Ciara. You look as if you've just seen a ghost.”

Ciara knew she had to tell Brandt that they were going to a hospital where most of the staff were familiar with her and where she could possibly run into a man who was not what he'd presented—a doctor who was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“I used to work at that hospital.”

“Did you leave on bad terms?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “It was my decision to leave.”

“How long did you work there?”

A beat passed. “Ten years.”

Brandt studied the face of the woman who unknowingly had changed him and his life. If she hadn't stood her ground he would've chased her out too, leaving him to wallow in a maelstrom of helplessness and self-pity. Ciara was good to and for him, and if there was anything she wanted or needed, he would do whatever was possible to give it to her.

“You're going to have to tell me about it so I'll know how to spin it.”

“Are you certain you want to get involved in something that has nothing to do with you?”

Brandt pondered her cryptic query. Ciara's disclosure that she wasn't afraid of anyone or anything had been nothing more than bravado. She
was
frightened. But of whom? “It's too late for that, Ciara. We're already involved, whether you're willing or want to admit it.” He didn't have to tell her that nurses didn't kiss their patients or simulate making love with them. Nurses also didn't do double duty as hostesses for their patients. “And if I were able to stand on my own I'd show you just how involved we are.”

Ciara found the very thought of making love to Brandt exciting because of her rediscovered sexual awakening. She'd always known of the strong passion within her even if she hadn't recognized her needs. Since breaking up with Victor, she'd realized she had to be alone in order to find out what she really wanted for herself and her future. She knew Brandt Wainwright did not figure anywhere in her future. He wasn't her Mr. Right, but Mr. Right Now.

“I'll tell you later.”

Brandt heard the finality in her statement. He didn't want to wait until later to find out what had prompted the woman with whom he'd found himself more involved with each sunrise to leave one of the best hospitals in New York to become a private-duty nurse.

“Talking about it later isn't going to change anything.” His voice was soft, coaxing.

B
randt reached for Ciara's hand, lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her hair. It smelled like fresh coconut. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Ciara settled against Brandt's chest and closed her eyes. What she was about to tell Brandt she had never disclosed to anyone, and that included her mother. She and her mother had a relationship based on an open dialogue, yet she didn't and couldn't tell Phyllis about her relationship with Dr. Victor Seabrook away from the bright lights and cameras. The closest she'd come to disclosing why she'd walked away from Victor was when she'd confessed to Sofia that he had attempted to control her life.

“What do you want to know?”

“Where did you grow up? Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I grew up about thirty miles west of Albany. My
parents divorced the year I turned ten, after my mother discovered my father had another wife.” Brandt smothered a curse under his breath. Ciara smiled. “My sentiments exactly.”

“So,” he crooned in her ear, “I don't have to contribute to the cuss jar?”

“Not this time. And to answer your question about siblings, I'm an only child. After high school I enrolled in a downstate college, graduating with a BS in nursing. Less than a year after working at the hospital I was attacked by a male patient…who claimed I'd teased him because I wore my uniforms too tight.”

“Did he hurt you, Ciara?”

She shook her head. “If you're asking if he raped me, then the answer is no. If it hadn't been for the other two patients in the room, I can't imagine what would've happened. One rang the nurses' station while the other shouted for help.”

“Is that why you wear smock tops?”

“Yes.”

Brandt gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You can't blame yourself for one sick son of a bitch.”

Raising her chin, Ciara met Brandt's eyes. They were cold, reminding her of chipped glass. “Tell that to a twenty-year-old.”

“How old were you when you graduated college?”

“Nineteen. I graduated from high school at sixteen.”

“How old are you now?”

“Thirty-three.”

Burying his face in her hair, Brandt pressed a kiss
against her scalp. “And after thirteen years you're still hiding?”

“I only wear the smocks when I have male patients.”

“Does it work?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“That's where you're wrong, Ciara. It didn't work with me, and do you know why?”

“No. Why?”

“You don't realize how close you came to the truth when you called me Superman. You were deluding yourself when you tried hiding behind those ugly tops because I just happen to have X-ray vision.”

Ciara laughed softly and shifted to a more comfortable position. “I'm not that gullible, Brandt.”

Brandt kissed her hair again. “Tell me what he did to you. And you know I'm not talking about the patient who attacked you.”

She inhaled, held her breath, then let it out in an audible sigh. “I was known at the hospital as the nurse with two looks: working girl and party girl. You're familiar with the working girl and the other night you saw the party girl. It was my party-girl persona that caught the eye of a plastic surgeon—Dr. Victor Seabrook.” Ciara paused, waiting for Brandt to acknowledge that he recognized the name.

“Go on,” Brandt urged when Ciara fell silent. Although he didn't particularly like watching reality television, he knew the doctor's name.

“The first time Victor asked to take me out I turned him down. I'd gone back to school to get a graduate degree, because I'd wanted to go into psychiatric
nursing, so between work and school I had very little time for socializing. A week after I was appointed to a position as a psychiatric nurse he asked me again and I accepted.

“What had begun as casual dinner dates escalated to media gatherings with A-list actors and other celebrities. Victor insisted I have a new outfit for every occasion and he'd accompany me to the various shops and boutiques, personally selecting what he wanted me to wear. I was flattered by the attention, but after a while I felt as if I was being smothered. When I told him how I felt he'd dismiss me with a wave of his hand, saying most women would give anything to have their man pay them that much attention.

“Initially I believed him, because my mother used to complain about marrying a salesman because my father was on the road more than he was at home. I rationalized, telling myself most women would love a man like Victor. He paid my rent, bought the groceries and paid for my clothes. The only thing he wanted was for me to be available for him when he needed sex, or a date.

“I panicked the day he proposed marriage because I had to ask myself if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a man who controlled every aspect of my life and the answer was no. I told Victor I would have to think about it. That's when he slapped me, saying I was an ungrateful bitch.”

Every muscle in Brandt's body tensed. “He hit you?”

Ciara nodded, recalling the incident as if it'd occurred seconds ago. He'd struck her across the face with an
open hand. She had been more stunned than hurt, but his intent was more to humiliate than hurt.

“I screamed at him to get out of my apartment, or I would call the police and have him arrested for assault.”

“Had he ever hit you before?”

“No. It happened so quickly that it took a minute for me to react. I was so angry I couldn't cry. I applied an ice pack to my jaw, called in sick and twenty-four hours later I'd made a decision that changed my life. I called my supervisor and told her I was sending off a certified letter verifying I was resigning because of burnout. A friend had purchased a two-bedroom co-op in West Harlem, and she was looking for a roommate. I told Sofia I had to get away from my boyfriend, so she sent her police officer brother and some of his friends to pack up my apartment while I moved in with her. I'm certain if I'd told Esteban that Victor had hit me he would've impounded his car, then waited for him to retrieve it and arrested him on some frivolous charge like spitting on the sidewalk.”

“You're lucky to have had friends who had your back.” Brandt didn't want to think of some man slapping his sister, or any of his female cousins.

“They're the best.”

“I take it you haven't run into your ex since you left the hospital.”

Ciara exhaled. “I saw him about a month ago at my former supervisor's retirement party. He showed up even though he wasn't invited because he knew I would be there. He said he wanted to apologize, but I wasn't having any of it. I'd asked Esteban to come with me as
my date, so when I told him my police officer boyfriend would like nothing better than to arrest him for stalking, he left.”

“Is Esteban your boyfriend?” Brandt knew he sounded jealous, but he couldn't help it. He had to know where he stood with Ciara before whatever they had went any further.

“No. Esteban Martinez is a confirmed bachelor. It's his fortieth birthday party that I've agreed to attend. Have you asked your mother to come over and stay with you?”

Brandt shook his head. “No. I'll be all right if I'm home alone for a few hours.”

Ciara peered at Brandt's distinctive profile. “I may not get back until late.”

“It doesn't matter,” he countered. “Now about your ex. Let me handle everything.”

“What are you going to do?”

Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he smiled. He released her hand. “I'm not going to bitch-slap him, if that's what you're concerned about. I also don't want you to come with me.”

“But—”

“No buts, Ciara. I'll tell my agent that I'll need someone to help me from the car to the hospital entrance, and then back again. There are going to be cameras and reporters on hand because it will be a photo op. And I'm certain if reporters start asking questions, then your former coworkers will be more than forthcoming about you and your association with Dr. Seabrook. If he'd showed up to an event where he hadn't been invited just
to see you, what's to say he won't seek you out again if he knows you're at the hospital?

“Think about it, darling.” The endearment rolled off Brandt's tongue like watered silk. “The man has to have a tremendous ego if he resorted to lashing out physically because you rejected him. After all, he's the high-profile, hotshot doctor who's probably used to women throwing themselves at him. But you'd become the exception and he couldn't deal with it. Guys like Victor Seabrook are dangerous
and
crazy, Ciara, and it would be better if you avoided him.”

“What I should've done was have him arrested for hitting me.”

“Unless you had proof of physical injury, then it would've come down to a ‘he said, she said.' Remember, he's the celebrity and you would've been looked upon as the jealous or spurned girlfriend.”

Ciara knew Brandt was right. The reason she hadn't gone to the police to have Victor charged with assault was because she hadn't wanted the publicity. Her position at the hospital would've been in jeopardy and her reputation tainted by the negative publicity. She'd taken the right course of action when she took steps to purge Victor Seabrook from her life.

“Thank you for listening.”

“I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Cradling Ciara's head, Brandt moved his mouth over hers, exploring the soft lips parting under his as he deepened the kiss. The tip of her tongue touched his, pulled back, then emerged again.

His lips left hers to taste her earlobe, her neck, breathing a kiss there before returning to the sexy mouth
that had the power to make him say and do things he hadn't thought possible.

Ciara surrendered to the slow, seductive kisses that were as potent as any drug. Shifting, she turned toward Brandt, more than aware of his broken legs. Her hands were busy, tracing the contours of his chest and flat belly. She wanted to reach between his thighs and release his sex to her hungry gaze. Somehow she found the strength to pull away, her breasts rising and falling heavily as she struggled to control her breathing.

She was on fire and she needed him to extinguish it. “Can we, Brandt?”

Eyes wide, Brandt stared at the woman pressed to his side, seeing passion and indecision in her eyes. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Yes, we can, darling.” His blood-engorged penis was so hard it hurt. “I'll spread my legs and you lie between them.”

Ciara shook her head. “No. I'll hurt you.”

He gritted his teeth in frustration, not wanting a repeat of what had occurred when she'd gyrated on his lap. “Then sit on me. Please, baby, I want you so much.”

Ciara felt hot tears prick the backs of her eyelids. Victor had never wanted her. He'd always needed her. “You're going to have to protect me.” Whenever she slept with a man she'd insisted he use protection. She wasn't ready to become a mother, and she was aware of the risks of contracting STDs.

Brandt closed his eyes, praying he wouldn't come before he was able to penetrate Ciara. It wasn't as much about having sex with her as making love to her. “There
should be some condoms in the bathroom. They're in the drawer with the shaving supplies.”

A sigh of relief slipped past his lips when she left the bed to get the condoms. The tension that had been building between them for days made him feel as if thousands of tiny insects were feasting on his nerve endings. He'd found himself looking for every opportunity to touch Ciara, to kiss her good-night or for the obligatory thank you.

When she'd sat on the bed with him to watch a movie the night before, he knew they'd crossed the threshold where they could sleep together without making love. His disappointment was profound when he woke not to find her beside him. His first reaction was to go to her, but pride had stopped him. What if she didn't want him in her bed? What if she wanted to be the one to make the overture? The questions had assailed him until Brandt realized he wasn't going back to sleep and got out of bed.

 

Opening the drawer, Ciara found the box of condoms. It hadn't been opened. Taking off her glasses, she left them on the vanity. She closed her eyes, then opened them, staring at the mirror. “What are you doing, Ciara Dennison?” she asked her reflection. “Do you really intend to sleep with a man you've known such a short time? Are you crazy as hell or just plain old horny?”

“Who are you talking to, Ciara?” Brandt called out from the bedroom.

She opened her eyes. “Myself.”

“Why are you talking to yourself, babe?”

A wry smile twisted her mouth. “Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I'm already talking about it. I'm talking to myself.”

“Either you come here or I'm coming in there to get you.”

“Don't move, Brandt. I'm coming.” Ciara broke the seal on the box and took out a condom. She walked back into the bedroom, tossing the condom at Brandt, who caught it in midair.

He patted the bed. “Come here, baby. Let's talk about what has you so crazy.”

She got into bed, but instead of lying next to Brandt, Ciara sat on folded knees at the foot. “Don't you think it's odd that we're going to make love when a few weeks ago we didn't know each other? Well…maybe you didn't know me.”

Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Brandt angled his head. “A week, a month, a year,” he drawled. “It's only time.”

Sandwiching her hands between her knees, Ciara saw something in Brandt's eyes that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he were looking at her for the first time. “Are you saying time means nothing to you?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying, Miss Ciara Dennison. When it comes to you it doesn't matter whether I've known you one week, one second or one lifetime.”