The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (13 page)

They were only one of the two largest medical groups in the entire western half of the US. There’d been some rumblings that they’d be expanding to the northwest. Apparently, they weren’t just rumors.

Derrington began slowly walking again, and Dane followed along, the wheels turning in his mind at the possibilities.

“Dane, there are some—let’s call them doors—that might open to someone with brains, with discernment, and with discretion.” He glanced over at Dane. “If one were so inclined, that is.”

“One might be, sure.” He felt like a jackass with this political code-talk read-between-the-lines bullshit.
This
was why he never attended those functions. And it was probably why younger doctors than him, fresh out of residency, were making more money than he was too.

“Or those doors might stay closed, if certain—issues arose.”

Dane didn’t like the sudden coolness in Derrington’s voice.

“Issues?”

“As you say, Amity is… young.
Impressionable
. Maybe even a little irresponsible.” Derrington stopped, turning to Dane, his gaze steady, intent. “Which is why I value your judgment, your discretion. I knew she’d be a good fit for your temperament.”

This was going in a direction Dane didn’t like. At all.

“I appreciate your confidence, Chuck. She’s been a good addition to the team.”

“Which is why I’d like to ask you not to do anything to change that.”

“I don’t think I follow.”

But he suspected he followed quite well.

“Can I speak plainly, Dane?” Derrington laid a hand over his chest. “We all have our… eccentricities, in life. All of us.”

“That we do.”

Shit.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on my daughter.” He dipped his chin, looking up at Dane from under a tanned, furrowed brow. “I hope you won’t tell her that. She’d never forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Between us only, Chuck.”

“Good.” Derrington’s gaze grew flinty. “I’ve heard the rumors of course, the whispers. But honestly, I never cared what people did in their personal lives. But this is—different.”

Dane had known about the whispers too. Kinky. Perverted. One of
those
people. He largely ignored it. As long as he kept his head down, none of it mattered.

Derrington’s jaw hardened. “I don’t want her at your home.”

“Uh, what?”

“Amity. I don’t want her taking on any extra… duties. What you do on off hours, that’s your business, not mine. But it doesn’t need to be hers either. She’s… it’s not something I think is a good fit for her skillset.”

“I think I understand.”

“Good.” Derrington winked. “Many of us have other enterprises, other
opportunities
. And with discretion, with good judgment, those don’t have to be a problem.”

Dane wanted to throttle the sonofabitch. How did he know? Cathie would never have talked—she was part of the community too, and he trusted her implicitly. And there was no way on God’s green earth Amity would’ve said a word to her father.

So how the hell did he know?

Derrington’s voice softened, and he leaned a little closer. “Certain doors remain open, Dane. All you need do is what’s right, in order to walk through them. If I can trust your judgment here, you might stand to benefit. Greatly.”

Dane didn’t say anything, instead trying to will himself not to clock the smarmy prick right in the mouth. He kept himself under control though, because, smarmy prick or not, Chuck Derrington was dangerous. Very dangerous. Dane had to be careful here.

Pulling back the cuff of his suit coat, Derrington looked at his watch. “I’m sorry to run, Dane, but I’ve got another appointment.” He offered a hand, and though Dane wanted nothing more than to crush it, instead he shook it, giving Chuck a tight smile.

Derrington clapped him on the upper arm. “I knew we’d understand one another. I’ll be in touch soon. I’m excited about the possibilities for you, Dr. McKendrick.”

Dane watched the man make his way back across the courtyard, his stride slow, entirely unhurried. The confident gait of a man who controlled the levers of life, the doorways of privilege.

What the fuck are you gonna do now, Dane?

Chapter Ten

It had been almost two weeks—and still, nothing.

He’d threatened her and she’d felt that fear, that promise of another punishment, the consequences both of them knew she needed. And still, it hadn’t happened.

Amity had even let an f-bomb fly under her breath one day, sneaking a glance at him to make sure he’d heard it. He had, his jaw clenching as he glowered at her. But all he’d done was to bark at her to watch her mouth, then he’d stalked off. That was it!

Increasingly, all she could think about was what was coming, what she craved and feared. What confused and aroused her. Even going out with Kaitlyn had somehow lost its appeal, Amity sitting in a darkened corner, nursing a drink, immersed in the driving, chest-rattling bass of the music, the rolling, dazzling lights and Kaitlyn’s yelled exhortations all just so much static. For Amity’s mind would be elsewhere, nursing a hope, a building yearning for something she didn’t yet understand.

It was Friday, and as she got ready for work, she looked at the clock. If she left at that moment she’d make it to work with time to spare—on time as she knew he expected. And thus far, she’d obeyed his wishes. She’d been a good girl.

And look what the fuck that’s gotten you.

She’d chosen the snug medium brown slacks, her painted toes peeking out from under the hems, the strappy four-inch heels so high, she was sure she’d end up breaking an ankle. She only wore heels that high when she wanted something.

To be fucked.

“So why the hell are you wearing them to work, Amity?” She shook her head, checking her makeup in the mirror. “And now you’re talking to yourself too.”

She looked at the clock once more. Ten minutes to seven. She could maybe make it now—if she sped, and got lucky.

Instead, Amity sat on her bed, trying to get used to the feel of the lacy garter belt, the feel of the straps holding up the dark stockings. Nobody would know she was wearing something so slutty under the sexy, but tasteful, slacks and cream high-necked top—one she’d chosen specifically because it showed off her boobs to advantage. Yes, she’d get dirty looks from female passersby, but she knew
he
was powerless against it, couldn’t help but look.

Dane.

Amity leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. “I hope you know what you’re doing, idiot.”

Looking up at the clock as it passed seven, she knew there was no going back now.

Finally, she’d get what she wanted.

* * *

Dane’s phone rang just as he was sending off the last—hopefully—e-mail to Mrs. Hendricks. The woman was as anxious as they came, and was a client that reminded him of a term he’d heard often in med school, ‘high touch’—a euphemism for high maintenance.

He picked up the phone. “Doctor McKendrick.”

“She’s not here,” Cathie’s voice said, irritation dripping from it. “Again.”

Dane sighed, looking at his watch. It was 7:10. “Okay, I’ll be up there in a second. I’ll wait for her to show up.”

“Is anything going to be done about this? For real, this time?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Good. She’s lucky I’m not her boss.” Then Cathie hung up.

Dane leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his face with both hands. He looked out his window, falling leaves spiraling in the breeze. Rain threatened to spit from the gray sky.

He’d hoped he could just… let things lie. She’d been well-behaved. She’d been coming in on time, doing her job. Yeah, she’d cursed that one time, but he’d let it go. There was more at stake here than a young woman’s continued personal growth. Her father had ensured that.

But he couldn’t let this slide.

As he walked down the hall, and pushed open the glass door into the lobby, the front door opened, a gust of cool fall wind stirring the air. It was Amity. Her gaze met his, a defiance in those deep blue eyes he hadn’t seen there in weeks.

“Good morning, Dr. McKendrick.” Her guileless smile was both infuriating and beautiful.

“You’re late.”

She shrugged as she walked by him. “Traffic.”

Fuck.

She was dressed in slacks that were practically painted on, highlighting the curves of her hips. She might as well have been wearing a neon sign that read: “Please look at my ass.”

The top wasn’t any better, the hug of the fabric emphasizing the generous weight of her breasts. At least she wasn’t showing any cleavage—this time.

Like that matters.

His cock was already at attention, and he noted the mince of her gait as she slipped behind the counter to take her seat. High heels again.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

She frowned. “Like what?”

“That,” Dane said, gesturing up and down with his hand. “You have a date after work?”

“Would you even care if I did?”

He glared at her, already wanting to kiss those soft, pink lips. Right after he spanked her ass, that was.

“Just answer my question.”

“No, I don’t have a date!” She put on her headset, glaring up at him. “I’m just dressed nice today. Professionally. You know, like you’ve told me I’m supposed to do.”

There was nothing professional about the way that outfit showed off that body. That outfit was designed to do one thing.

Dane leaned over the counter. “You’re late, Amity. I won’t have it.”

Her eyes flashed. “I
told
you, it was traffic. I can’t control that. Why does it matter, anyway? Even if it was my fault, nothing would happen.”

Bratting. Interesting.

He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers submerging in her soft hair, and pulled her close, kissing her hard. Her whole body went still, her eyes wide, but she didn’t resist. She felt even better than he imagined, his tongue teasing the softness of her lower lip, then pushing into her mouth. She made a tiny sound as her tongue found his, the taste of her so sweet he didn’t ever want to stop.

You’re a moron, Dane.

Then he pulled away, letting her go, but staying close, their noses almost touching. Amity’s cheeks were flushing, and she licked at her lower lip, her wide-eyed gaze locked with his.

“You sure you don’t have a date after work?”

She shook her head slowly.

The front door opened, a man and a women walking in, the woman barking something at her frowning companion.

“Well, you do now,” Dane said, his voice almost a growl. “After closing, I want you in the conference room.”

* * *

She hadn’t even closed the door behind her when his hand enveloped her upper arm, yanking her into the room. Dane closed and locked the door behind her.

“Come on, time to talk,” he said, marching her from the door, pulling up on her arm as if she were a little girl, then shoving her into a seat at the table.

“Dane, what the hell!”

She knew she’d pay for it, but the words just blurted before she had a chance to shut her mouth. His grip hurt!

Rather than move around to the other side of the table to take a seat himself, Dane simply stood there, a mere foot away, glaring down at her from his great height. The black button-down shirt he wore lovingly accentuated every plane of his broad shoulders, every bulge of muscle of his strong chest. The hint of five o’clock shadow shaded his square jaw. She couldn’t help but wonder how its roughness would feel against her own skin.

“What the hell was that this morning?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She thrust her chin up, meeting his gaze. “I was late, but it wasn’t my fault. I already told you that.”

“You’ve been doing so well, Amity. And now this.” His jaw clenched. “I want to know why.”

“Why do you want to know?” She crossed her arms. “You’d still think it was my fault, no matter what I told you. And you
still
wouldn’t do anything about it.”

Amity, don’t push him.

She had to though. This was part of this… whatever the fuck this was. The arrangement. Yes, she feared being punished, but things were evolving into a lot more than being disciplined for her misdeeds. When he’d kissed her out there, she’d been shocked to the marrow of her bones. It was as if that one deed had confirmed for her what she’d been feeling for weeks, what kept her distracted during the day, awake at night. This was very, very sexual—for both of them. Even though she still had no idea what she was really doing, she wanted more.

She wanted more of him.

“You’re confused about something.” He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat of his body. She wanted nothing more than to hug herself tight to him, to let him do his worst.

“I’m not confused about anything. You’re not holding up your end of the bargain, Dane.” Heat prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let her gaze waver. “You’ve asked me to do this, to obey you, to let you help me. And I have. But when you don’t… do what you’re supposed to do, it’s all bullshit. It’s all wrong.”

His gaze softened at that, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “So that’s it.”

“What’s it?”

Amity knew she was digging the hole deep, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If she had to push him, then so be it. She was a tough girl. She could take it.

His hands closed upon her upper arms, tight, and he yanked her to her feet as if she were light as a feather, his face bearing down on hers. His warm breath brushed her cheek.

“Before you came in here, I’d resolved myself to just lecturing you, maybe writing you up. Then sending you on your way. But seeing you like this? I was wrong.” He kissed her again, savagely this time, crushing his mouth to hers, nipping her lip as he pulled away, growling. “I know what you need now. But first thing’s first.”

He spun her around so fast, it disoriented her for a moment, her hair flying in her face. He kicked her chair away, the thud against the carpet as it toppled over making her jerk. Her thighs pressed to the edge of the table as he crowded up against her back. His hands reached around her, clasping her throat in a firm grip, enough to feel the pressure against her pulse. His other hand took hold of her breast, squeezing cruelly, making Amity hiss at the sharp pain.