The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (6 page)

“So if you don’t want to fuck her, why’d you make her that offer then? Not exactly straight out of the employee manual, you know.”

The huge arc-sodium nightlights began to flicker off overhead, the morning light increasing by the second as dawn neared.

“Because I
do
like her. And I want to see her succeed. She’s smart and compassionate. She’s
better
than she’s shown us so far.”

He remembered seeing how she comforted a teenaged girl who’d come in for an exam after throwing a positive on a home pregnancy test. After the exam, and Dane’s confirmation that the girl was indeed pregnant, he’d watched in silence as Amity consoled the sobbing girl. He didn’t know if it would have mattered—you never could tell with teenagers—but the relief in that scared girl’s eyes as Amity had laid out her options, as she’d told the girl no, the world was definitely
not
ending, had made him proud of his wayward admin. Underneath that rash, irresponsible kid exterior, there was a caring, kind woman.

He wanted to make sure that the real her finally came to the forefront—before it was too late. There was just something about her, though you’d never know it unless you looked very closely. When he did, it was as if she seemed… lost. It made him want to take her in hand even more.

Dane intended to do all he could to help her be who she was really meant to be—even if he never spanked her again.

Kidding yourself again, asshole.

And that was true too, wrong or not. He very much wished he could spank her again.

“How come you don’t like her, Cathie?”

He suspected he already knew, but his head nurse was always full of surprises.

She didn’t answer right away, but rather kept jogging, even picking up her pace a little, as if she needed to clear her mind.

“I’m not sure. She’s spoiled—and you know I don’t ever let my girls get spoiled.”

He knew. Dane recalled visiting Cathie’s for steaks over the Fourth of July weekend. Her then live-in sub, Leah, had cooked for the both of them. The fact that the girl had been completely naked had made her task considerably more difficult, the juices from the meat occasionally singeing her as she worked.

Cathie had finally relented and allowed Leah a nice, starched apron, but at the cost of being bent over the living room couch—in full view of an amused (and aroused) Dane—and paddled until her pert round bottom glowed red.

The buxom little Leah had finished cooking dinner with trails of tears down her cheeks, even as she smiled her own arousal.

Cathie slowed to a stop, and Dane gratefully followed suit, bending over, his hands on his knees. She turned to him, holding her hands at her waist, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. “It’s more than that though. She’s pushing you—even though I don’t think she realizes why. I can’t stand brats.”

“Was Leah a brat then?”

Cathie’s eyes narrowed. “Not funny,
doctor
.”

He held up both hands. “Stand down, Nurse Cathie.”

“Seriously, Dane.” Her voice softened, and the irritation he’d just seen in her blue eyes gave way to something much softer. “It’s been how long since Steph? A year?”

Dane looked down, then nodded. It shouldn’t have still stung after all this time. But it did, even now.

“Think about what it is you really want, doctor. Sometimes it seems so right it scares you away from it.” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let Steph take any more chances from you, Dane.”

He met her gaze and she smiled, her nod so subtle he almost missed it. Then she turned away, arms still at her waist, blowing out a long breath as she walked.

“So you really think she’s a brat?”

He hadn’t considered that possibility until now. Did that explain some of her behavior? Was she something more than an irresponsible girl?

“Definitely a brat.” Cathie turned toward the morning sun, closing her eyes. “Jury’s still out on whether she realizes it though.”

Chapter Six

Amity rubbed her forehead with both hands; Mrs. Jamison getting angrier by the second.

“I scheduled this appointment two weeks ago, and
now
you’re rescheduling me?”

It wasn’t Amity’s fault—this time—but as the messenger she was being lined up before Mrs. Jamison’s metaphorical firing squad anyway.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jamison,” she said, trying to inject the conversation with as much calmness as she could dredge up. “We had a scheduling conflict with Dr. McKendrick. If you want, I could get you over to Dr. Vance’s office? I know she’s got open—”

“I don’t
want
Dr. Vance. I want
my
doctor, you know, your boss, Dr. McKendrick! If you can’t get me in to see him, then I want to talk to him. Right now.”

Amity could feel her blood beginning to boil.

“That’s not
possible
, Mrs. Jamison. But let me see about getting you—”

Holding her headset away from her ear as Mrs. Jamison screeched, Amity rubbed her eyes hard.

The day had started badly, and getting torn a new ass for something that wasn’t her fault wasn’t helping it get any better. For once, last night she hadn’t partied—she had no money, but she didn’t think she would have even if she hadn’t been broke. The previous two straight nights of getting shit-faced had ensured that. She was just tired.

Todd had called her twice last night, and after a phone call of epic length where the man did not want to get a single one of the dozens of hints she’d laid down, she’d finally given up and let him come over. She’d fended off his advances until they’d both been tired, acquiescing to snuggling, which meant she got to lie there for an hour with Todd’s hard-on prodding her ass. He’d finally left when she was half asleep, visions of Dane’s huge hands crashing down upon her bottom flitting in and out of her half-lucid consciousness.

Todd’s hands weren’t strong like Dane’s—and the boy was
much
too easy to manipulate.

Then that morning, her alarm hadn’t gone off—yet again—and she’d found herself on her familiar mad scramble to get to work on time, cursing like a sailor as she tried to find something,
anything
to wear. By the grace of God she’d had one pair of clean slacks left, and she pulled on a thick black sweater as she stumbled out to her car.

While stopped at red lights, she’d pinned up her hair into some semblance of presentability, mostly hiding her bed head. But she still felt like a total ass, her hair greasy and itchy. Amity
hated
not having time to shower before work.

Now, listening to Mrs. Jamison freak out, she wanted to do nothing more than throw her headset across the room. Or cry.

The door to the hallway opened, Cathie striding in, carrying a file, and eyes shooting daggers. She set the file down and bent over Amity’s keyboard, invading her space. Amity slid her chair back, mouthing, “What?”

Cathie’s fingers punched the keyboard so hard, Amity was sure the woman’s fingertips would be bloody pulps. She looked at Amity, her whisper harsh. “Is that Connie Jamison?”

Wonderful, she’s been listening in on the calls again.

Amity nodded, Mrs. Jamison’s voice rising an octave, finding her second wind.

“Why didn’t you tell her to come in now?”

What? Was Cathie just trying to be a bitch, or had Amity woken up in Asshole World today? Amity punched up the schedule, jabbing her finger at the 2:00 PM appointment for Ms. Walker.

Cathie’s face flushed, her eyes going wide, her whisper almost a growl. “It’s 2:23, Amity.” She waved an arm toward the empty lobby. “Do you
see
Ms. Walker here? She’s obviously not coming. Tell Mrs. Jamison to come in right now. This is ridiculous.”

You fucking bitch.

The nurse stalked back toward the door, yanking it open just as Dr. McKendrick walked back up from Exam. His eyebrows raised, and he looked from Amity to Cathie and back again.

But Amity was seeing red. She put her headset back on just as the dial tone sounded. Mrs. Jamison had hung up on her! Amity slammed her headset down onto the counter and leapt up.

“What’s your fucking problem, Cathie?”

The head nurse froze, halfway through the door, then turned slowly and glanced at Dr. McKendrick, who shrugged his shoulders. Cathie stalked back toward Amity, her gaze colder than a January wind.

“My
problem
is you’re telling a patient we can’t see them, when you’ve got an opening right
now
in the schedule.”

“That’s Ms. Walker’s!”

“It
was
Ms. Walker’s, Amity.” Cathie crossed her arms under the swell of her breasts. “It ceased to be hers when she didn’t show up. Which is why I told you to have Mrs. Jamison come in.”

Amity wanted to strangle the nurse.

“You
told
me to keep the schedule up to date. To go by what the schedule says, right? That’s what I’m doing!”

Cathie sighed, glancing over at Dr. McKendrick, whose gaze was now locked on Amity, his square jaw tight, his lips a thin line.

“What you should be doing is using your judgment, not blindly following a schedule as if it’s set in stone, and making clients needlessly wait.”

On some level, Amity knew she was in trouble and should stop right now. But she couldn’t. She was too goddamned tired, and she was
not
going to just let Cathie treat her like shit.

“First you say, ‘use the schedule,’ now you say, ‘don’t use the schedule.’” Amity threw up her hands, slouching back into her chair. “I can’t fucking
win
around here!”

Cathie let out a long breath. “Dr. McKendrick pays you to think, not be a mindless robot. You’re smart, we can all see that. So try using that head of yours for once.”

“That’s enough, Cathie.” Dr. McKendrick murmured, shooting her a warning look.

Cathie turned, slipping past Dr. McKendrick and walking back down the hall toward Exam. “I’m tired of doing her job for her.”

“Fuck you, Cathie!” Amity snarled, turning back toward her computer, so angry she could hardly speak.

Dr. McKendrick strode up to stand directly in front of her. She purposely avoided looking at him. “I suppose you’re going to take her side? I’m the dumb ass kid, right?”

Amity could feel the tears building, her frustration making her hands shake as she clicked her mouse over and over, opening and closing the same window, too pissed off to think straight.

“Amity, look at me.” His voice was like a distant rumble of thunder. “Right now.”

Reluctantly, she looked up at him, her mouth going dry.

Oh, shit.

“What did we discuss in our first meeting?”

She knew exactly which ‘meeting’ he referred to, the memory of it making her cheeks flame.

“This isn’t fair, sir.” She hated the whining note that had snuck into her voice.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Sorry.” She inhaled deeply, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “You said next time I fu—”

“
Amity.
”

She winced. “Sorry,
mess
up, that I’ll be punished again.”

“That’s right. And I specifically warned you about your cursing, didn’t I?”

“But she—”

His voice had gone to pure ice. “Didn’t I?”

You’re in deep shit.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, today’s the day we’re going to address that smart mouth of yours. But not right now.”

Her nipples hardened into steel points, whether from fear or something else she wasn’t sure.

“Please, Dr. McKendrick… “

“One more thing. You
will
listen to and obey Cathie as if she were me. I don’t want to hear any more defiance or talking back from you. Do you understand that?”

The prospect appealed to her slightly less than chewing on tin foil, but from the set of his jaw and the flash of his eyes, she knew he meant business.

She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Just then the lobby door opened. It was Mrs. Gonzalez for her 2:30. The woman took one of the seats gingerly, her huge belly making her groan softly as she sat down.

He smiled. “Good to see you, Angela. I’ll just be a minute, then I’ll have Cathie bring you back.”

She nodded, murmuring something Amity couldn’t quite make out.

Dr. McKendrick turned for the door back to Exam. “Time to go back to work. Please call Mrs. Jamison again and ask her to come in.”

Then he was gone.

What the hell had she done?

* * *

The number popped up on her display, the tone ringing in her headset, but she didn’t believe what she was seeing.

It was the conference room.

This couldn’t be right. It was only four o’clock. He didn’t really intend to…

Her finger tapped the button, connecting the call.

“Come back to the conference room, please.” His voice was even, almost mild, but there was no mistaking it was an order.

“Y-yes, sir.”

The line went dead.

On shaking legs, Amity opened the door to the hallway down to Exam, grateful she didn’t pass Cathie on the way. She wasn’t positive there wouldn’t be an ugly scene in such an event.

Try Cathie getting her ass kicked.

Amity tried to buoy her spirits with the thought of putting the blond ice queen in her place, but it didn’t even dent the roiling ball of nerves sitting heavy in her belly. She still didn’t think he was actually going to punish her—at least not now—but she was nervous as hell either way, her mind conjuring up all manner of horrors he might visit upon her.

She opened the door to find Dr. McKendrick leaning against the table, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his stethoscope hanging over one shoulder. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his light blue button-down, exposing the dark hair on his brawny forearms. Another very un-doctor like feature of the man. A stack of charts was next to him on the table, his cell phone laid on top.

He simply gazed at her for a moment, his eyes traveling up and down her body. She felt disgusting, not having had a shower that morning, grateful that it didn’t appear she was going to actually be spanked. Maybe he’d just want to talk? If she was lucky perhaps she’d get off with a lecture—something she’d be eternally grateful for.