Playing Doctor (5 page)

“Well no, but…”

“Then stay for a while, with me.” Gabe held his breath as Beth stood there, her purse dangling from her hand as she fought some inner battle, debating whether to stay or go. Then a sigh lifted her breasts.

“Okay. For a while,” she conceded, laying her purse on the table and sitting back down.

Gabe sank back in his chair, pushed the air slowly from his lungs. Beside him, Beth scooted up in her seat, crossed her legs and shifted again. Her little bow-backed chair was getting uncomfortable again. Given enough time, and with her acquiescence, he planned to ease every ache between those restless legs.

Then he was going to have that little chair bronzed.

Chapter Four

As the sun set on the Montgomery Estate, ropes of sparkling white lights illuminated the gauzy tents’ ceilings, lending a cozy, more intimate ambience. Caterers and wait staff filtered through the tables, lighting pillar candles that stood in crystal bowls.

The band switched from blood-pumping rock to slow, romantic tones, and a few couples swayed on the dance floor. A cool breeze drifted off the lake bordering the lush gardens, bringing with it the rich fragrance of honeysuckle and wildflowers. And Gabe.

From the corner of her eye, Beth watched him fake an elaborate yawn, stretching his arm over the back of her chair. When she lifted her brows at the wrist dangling over her shoulder, he grinned boyishly.

“This was my classic move in high school. It was pretty lame back then,” he admitted.

The corners of her mouth turned upward. “It’s still pretty lame.” But she allowed his arm to remain, enjoying the warmth, the weight of it across her shoulders. She missed this, the solid press of a man’s body against hers. Content, she rested against him and allowed her senses to soak him in.

She had almost walked away. Almost gotten in her car and driven back to the hotel. With Drew gone, there had been no reason to stay. Except for the fact that she wanted to. Then Gabe had taken her hand, asked her to stay…with him. For a moment, she’d thought her heart would jump right out of her chest. Could there be any stronger aphrodisiac than a man pleading for your presence?

He adjusted his arm over her shoulder, shifted his body, tucking her against his side.

“My next move would be to try and cop a feel.” Gabe flexed his fingers.

Reaching up, Beth snagged those fingers when he teasingly stretched them downward and slanted him a narrow-eyed warning. “Care to find out what my next move would be?”

Laughing, he took her hand, turned it slightly and ran his thumb over her ring finger. “Is there a man waiting for you at home?”

“No,” she answered, surprised—and pleased—by the bluntness of the question. “I’m widowed.”

“I’m sorry.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “How long ago?”

Beth looked out at the lake, watched a crane dive, dip a wing into the water and slice the glassy surface. She was sorry, too, for the vibrant youth who had evolved into the troubled, bitter man.

“Four years,” she said, pulling away from the past. She thought of the snippets of information shared in the bride’s chambers—no social life to speak of and the redhead’s comment of his need to return to the land of the living. That didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t a female in his life. “And you? Is there a woman waiting somewhere for you?”

A shadow darkened his eyes. “No, I lost my wife two years ago.”

Lost
, she mused. Not, passed away, or she died. Not even, “I’m a widower,” but
lost
. The depth of his love, the weight of pain in his voice reminded Beth of her favorite song. She could see Gabe walking the streets at night, calling out his wife’s name, and again she wondered what it would feel like to be loved so deeply, wondered about the woman who had evoked and been the recipient of that love.

“I’m sorry.” She returned his gentle squeeze, then let go of his hand and reached for her drink.

The band announced the last dance and, eager to put thoughts of the past behind her, Beth turned her attention to the dance floor. The strains of
When a Man Loves a Woman
filled the air. Beth’s gaze landed on an elderly couple, or more specifically, on the old fellow’s hand as it slid down to squeeze his partner’s ass.

“Classic move,” Gabe chuckled.

As the couple shuffled by, the woman grabbed the hand on her bottom, pulled it up, and planted it firmly at her waist. Beth laughed. “I think that can be classified as an epic fail.”

“I’d like to think I have better moves than him, then.”

She’d just bet he did. Beth glanced up from beneath her lashes and gave in to the urge to play. “Really?”

“It’s true. I learned the hard way after high school that college girls were savvy. They expected more. I had to expand and add to my repertoire of seductive skills.”

Beth caught her lip between her teeth. “So, you’re going to try and dazzle me with your old college moves, now?”

“No, I pretty much bombed with those, as well.”

She doubted Gabe had ever bombed when he’d gone after a woman, and would have told him so, had she not lost the capability of speech when his warm breath washed over her cheek.

“I have all new moves, now. I particularly like this one,” Reclaiming her hand, Gabe’s gaze held hers as he skimmed the rough pad of his thumb over her knuckles with the same slow glide as his thigh rubbing against hers beneath the table. “What do you think?”

She couldn’t, at least not clearly. “That’s, um, pretty good.”

“Hmm. Pretty good? Well, how about this one?” He brought her hand to his mouth, looked into her eyes and pressed a soft, wet kiss to her palm.

Heat rippled under her skin. Her breath rushed out, a quick puff of surprise at how quickly, how intensely she responded to the touch of his mouth on her skin. Her mouth went slack, her eyelids drifted down with the sheer force of sexual arousal assailing her. When she lifted them again, she allowed him to see exactly what she was feeling, what he was doing to her. She’d never been so bold and the decadence of it was exciting in itself.

She wanted more. “That’s a…really good move.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth and she felt his gaze there as surely as if he’d physically touched her. “I have more.”

And she wanted to experience each and every one of them.

Oh, God, what am I doing?

I’m doing what I want, and, I want to do it with this man.

With that resolve, Beth unlocked the door to her long suppressed desires and set them free. She tilted her head and tipped her lips into a taunting grin. “Would you like to see one of mine?”

“Absolutely.”

She reached out, drove her fingers in his hair, cupped her hand at the base of his skull and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Surprise. She felt his brief pause of shock as their lips met, and then his hands came up, framed her face. His mouth shifted, encompassed hers, and possessed.

Heat. Had a man’s mouth ever felt so hot? Greed consumed her. Her fingers fisted in his hair and tugged. His groan slid past her lips and over her tongue. Blood pounded in her ears, flooded her sex. The sounds of the wedding reception faded away completely and nothing existed except Gabriel’s mouth on hers…and the person yelling his name.

Beth reluctantly broke the seal of their lips, slid her fingers free of the silky strands of his hair and sat back in her chair. She gave Gabe a look that was much steadier than she felt and licked the taste of him from her lips. “Someone is calling for you.”

“I don’t care.”

She would have laughed at the disgruntled reply if he didn’t look so serious and if she weren’t feeling every bit as frustrated as he appeared to be. Every fiber of her being wanted to grab his hand and run away, to hold on to this wonderful feeling for a little while longer. To take it even further.

Then do something about it.

He beat her to the punch. “Let’s get out of here…get a drink.”

“Yes.” Her reply came out in a rush.

Someone called out his name again. When he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, Beth expected to be led out of the tent, but he pulled her in, fisted his hand at the back of her jacket and took her mouth in a quick, hard kiss. “Let me change out of this tux and I’ll meet you at your car in ten.”

The sex-you-up grin was back, and it told Beth that Gabriel North had more on his mind than drinks.

…

Gabe stopped, looked around the parking lot, and swore. If he’d been thinking with the head on his shoulders instead of the one in his pants, he would have thought to ask Beth what she was driving. Shouldn’t be that hard. He figured her for something classy—maybe the black Cadillac CTS or the white Chrysler 300 SRT. His gaze skipped past the sleek muscle car…then swung back.

No fucking way.

Yep, there she was, those curvaceous hips leaning against the front fender of a classic black on blue, ’69 Super Sport Chevelle. The car shouted muscle, power, and attitude, all waiting to be unleashed at her will, controlled by her hands. His brain took an instant dive for the gutter, suffused with juvenile images of steamy windows and the car rocking on its springs while Beth straddled him in the back seat and rode him to sweet oblivion. Sweet hell, he couldn’t decide which one he wanted to get his hands on first.

“So, how would you like to do this?”

On the hood. In the back seat. Up against the door.
Gabe’s lust muddled brain tossed out one sexual scenario after the other. However, the curious look on Beth’s face and the way she twirled the set of keys on her forefinger suggested she’d meant something else altogether, and she appeared to be waiting for an answer. Right. Drinks in the city.

“Why don’t I follow you to your hotel, drop off your car and we can take mine from there?” There was no point in making a return trip to the estate for one of the vehicles, because any way they did it, Beth would end up making the drive back to the city alone. There was no way he was sending a woman out by herself, in the dark, in unfamiliar territory.

The keys made another circle on her finger, and then snapped against her palm. She looked at him, no expression, just her blue eyes locked on his, and then said, “That works for me.”

Gabe blew out a breath and gave the muscle car one last covetous look. Man, he’d love to get behind all that power just once. As if reading his mind, Beth grinned, held out her hand and offered him a set of keys with a small tag on the ring that read,
My foot and your ass need to meet.
Her brow quirked. “Would you like to drive mine?”

“Oh, yeah.” They exchanged keys.

“I’m betting you know how to handle a stick.”

“I’ve never had any complaints.” He tossed the keys in his hand. The pink stain on her cheeks acknowledged the sexual innuendo. The flash of heat in her eyes said she was interested. Yeah, things were looking up.

“He likes a soft foot on the clutch and a heavy one on the gas.” Her voice was a little breathy, an octave lower than usual. He might not make it through the drink.

“I’ll be gentle.”

She smoothed her hand over the fender, but her eyes remained steady on his. “Don’t be, he likes it rough.”

Oh, fuck yeah.

Chapter Five

Traffic was lighter in downtown Lexington than Beth had expected, especially for a Saturday evening. Gabe pulled into the parking lot of Bolton’s on Main, cut the engine, and slid from behind the wheel. Pocketing the keys, he ran an appreciative eye over the car as he walked around to open Beth’s door.

“That’s one fine ride you have. Tell me you don’t put it on the road every day.” Gabe’s hand rode loosely at the small of Beth’s back as they made their way across the parking lot toward the lounge. Each step she took, each roll of her hips shifted his fingers over the fabric of her jacket in the semblance of a caress. A quiver of excitement ran through her as she imagined those warm fingers on her bare flesh.

Pulling in a breath, she reached for calm.

“What, that old thing?” she teased, tucking her hair behind her ear. “No, I have a Camry for that. The Chevelle is strictly for pleasure.” Her heels clicked on the concrete walkway leading to the entrance of the lounge. Gabe reached forward and pushed the wide, ornate door open, turning to the side as she moved past him.

“Is that what this weekend is about—pleasure?” The warm puff of Gabe’s breath wisped over Beth’s ear, sending goose bumps down her arm. He was so close the slightest turn of her head would bring her mouth to his. Her gaze shot up and met the intensity in his dark eyes. The air between them sizzled with a current of sexual awareness. Her lips parted, but before she could form a reply, a gentle nudge from his hand at her back urged her over the threshold and into the elegantly decorated foyer.

“Welcome to Bolton’s on Main.”

Dragging her gaze from Gabe, Beth blinked as the maître d’ stepped from behind her podium.

“If you’ll follow me…”

The maître d’ escorted them to a private dining area with linen covered tables and plush upholstered chairs. She placed a leather-bound drink list on the table between them. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she murmured, and unobtrusively slipped away.

Gabe assisted Beth with her chair. Once situated at the table, his hands slipped from the back of her chair to her arms and skimmed up to settle on her shoulders. His fingers dipped inside the collar of her jacket and brushed her collarbone, sending a ripple of heat down her spine before they slid away and he took the chair across from her. His touch was pure seduction.

To calm herself, Beth rested her arms on the table, hands folded, and took a moment to look around. Strategically placed Grecian columns flanked by leafy potted palms afforded privacy from patrons at the neighboring tables while they had their drinks. Wall sconces with soft, low lighting and flickering tea lights on the tabletops added a romantic, even sensual tone, and soft music played in the background.

A waiter appeared to take their drink order, Disaronno on the rocks for Gabe and white wine for Beth, and then slipped away.