Wild with You (5 page)

 

Chapter 6

K
AT
WATCHED
HER
words sink in, myriad emotions fighting for control of Brody's expression. She had a feeling he could count on one hand the number of ­people who'd seen him so angry that steam threatened to come out of his ears.

Lucky me
.

But then she'd brought this on herself, holding back the truth last night. And her reasons for doing so—­she'd wanted to live in a fairy tale for a few hours and feel wanted—­no longer felt justified.

She watched as Brody drew a deep breath and the anger seemingly receded. He needed her. That much was clear. Not in his bed, but helping his brother. Even if he wanted to tell her to take a one-­way trip to hell, he wouldn't let emotions overtake his responsibility.

Logic suggested she should admire his oh-­so-­noble choice. But part of her wanted him to let his feelings win. She wished the idea of losing the woman who'd gone to his room last night to the label His Brother's Doctor made him howl with unleashed fury.

But one night—­one meeting—­did not lead to I-­need-­you emotions. That truth had haunted her for her entire life. No reason it would change now because she'd let Brody Summers give her a pair of orgasms. Sure, they were the Rolls-­Royces of climaxes, but that didn't mean they could lead to more.

“I see,” Brody said, his tone measured and even. His dark eyes, which had openly conveyed his need and desire last night, appeared guarded. “We should hit the road. My truck is parked out front,” he continued. “Can I help with your bag?”

He grabbed the handle of her suitcase, lifting it as if it weighed next to nothing, and headed for the door. But she knew for a fact that the five pairs of shoes she'd packed were like a set of bricks. She maintained a careful distance behind her Prada luggage just in case Brody decided to stop short and trip her up. After what she'd done, she wouldn't blame him.

In the lot, she watched as he secured their bags in the locked and covered bed of his pickup. He went around to the passenger side and held her door open, slamming it once she'd settled into the seat. Then he climbed into the driver's side, secured his belt, and slipped the key into the ignition.

And froze.

“I don't get it.” Brody turned to her, his hand still on the key. “Why didn't you tell me last night?”

“If you'd known I was your brother's doctor,” she said, meeting his searching gaze, “would you have followed me to the pool?”

“No.”

“That's why.”

“Was it because of the kid on the mountain? Was this your shrink's way of helping me? Did you think I needed last night?”

“I wanted to help you,” she said evenly. “And I didn't lie about working in the ER, Brody. I did a long, painful rotation during my residency. But that's not why I went back to your room. Desire is a powerful emotion.”

He slid her a glance as if he didn't quite buy that her explanation ended there. But she wasn't about to tell him she'd had a crush on him in high school, or that she remembered him as the white knight of shoes.

“I know,” he said.

They rode in silence as he merged onto the highway leading to the Willamette Valley and Independence Falls. “You said you were from here. Did you go to high school in Independence Falls?”

She heard the implied question—­
Who the hell are you
?—­and knew she owed him an explanation. As much as she wanted him to suddenly remember her from high school and admitting that, oh yeah, he'd noticed her once upon a time, Brody deserved the truth.

“I was a year behind you in school,” she explained.

“Do your parents still live here?” he demanded.

“No.”

“Independence Falls isn't New York City, I must have known them,” he said, frustration filling his tone.

“My mother died when I was five. A drunk-­driving accident. She was the drunk. And she was all I had,” Kat said, keeping her tone calm and collected while she recited the facts. “She'd moved to Oregon to work in one of the mills not long before the accident. We didn't have family and friends in the area. Or anywhere, really. My father was never part of the picture. Last I knew he was still incarcerated. He shot his dealer when I was a baby, according to my social worker. I grew up in foster care, mostly placed with families on the outskirts of town.”

The section of Independence Falls where practically everyone struggled to make ends meet. The neighborhoods where ­people needed the money the state offered for taking in a foster child.

He stole another glance as if still trying to place her.

“I got braces after medical school and dyed my hair,” she said, meeting his searching gaze.

His eyes widened with shock and he turned back to the road. “I remember you now. Your picture was in the paper when you left for Harvard. Not a lot of kids from around here go to an Ivy League school.”

And not many who'd grown up moving from house to house with all of their possessions in a black industrial-­strength garbage bag.

“I did well on my SATs. And spending twelve years with ten different foster families gave me a lot to write about in my essays,” she said, clinging tight to a trace of humor.

“Now you work with one of the leading neurologists in the country,” he said.

“I went to John Hopkins for medical school and obtained my Ph.D. from there as well.” She needed to erase any doubts about her clinical trial. Regardless of his feelings toward her, the course of treatment she'd designed with Dr. Westbury was his brother's best option.

“Dr. Westbury and I came up with this therapy together,” she continued. “She's been researching short-­term memory loss resulting from traumatic brain injuries for two decades. Together we formed a plan that treats the whole patient, looking for signs of depression, working through those feelings, while at the same time trying to retrain the memory.”

“I read the paperwork,” he said. “And to be honest, you're our last hope, which is why I would never have invited you up to my room if I'd know you would be working with Josh.”

She looked out the window, guilt washing over her as the outskirts of the city disappeared, replaced by farmland. This was the Oregon she remembered. The land of tall trees, timber mills, small towns, and emotions she'd hoped to leave buried in her past.

“Last night spun out of control,” she said. “But it won't happen again.”

“No,” he said firmly. “It won't.”

“I also need you to trust that I can help your brother. I swore when I left that I'd never set foot in Independence Falls again, but I'm here now for one reason—­to treat Josh.”

“You don't have any ties here? You didn't keep in touch with your foster parents?”

“The ­people who sent me packing the minute their obligation to keep me expired? No, we don't send Christmas cards. Especially the families from when I was in high school. I didn't exactly make life easy for them. Most made it pretty clear in return that they didn't want to see me again after the social worker came to pick me up and take me to the next house.”

She focused on the cows grazing in the field beside the road. “I guess family just isn't my thing.”

K
AT
'
S
WORDS
ECHOED
in his head as he put on his blinker and took the exit marked Independence Falls. Not her thing? Family defined his life. When his mother walked out on them not long after his dad returned from serving overseas, Brody had stepped up. He'd helped his father with everything from laundry to figuring out how to tame his little sister's curls so Katie didn't go school looking like a wild animal.

When his dad died seven years ago, he'd done everything he could to make sure his siblings understood that family came first in his life. He'd go to his grave before he let them down.

But there was a world of difference between his childhood in Independence Falls and Kat's experience. He remembered her picture running in the paper when she left for college. But his memories of her didn't end there. In high school, he'd run into her in the art room when he went back to pick up an assignment. And he'd stay to help fix her shoes.

He remembered the exact moment he realized that she'd labeled them her “lucky shoes” because they were her only shoes. Brody and his siblings hadn't had much while growing up, but their father worked hard to make sure they could afford clothes and sneakers.

He'd gone home from school that day and asked his dad if his mother had left behind a pair of sneakers. And he could still remember his dad's words.

If she asked you not to tell anyone and you show up with a pair of beat-­up old shoes that probably won't fit—­your mom had boats for feet—­how do you think that will make her feel? Keep her confidence, Brody. And let the girl keep her pride.

A few days later he saw her walking in the halls and waved. Glancing down, he spotted new shoes on her feet. Somehow, his father had found a way to get her a new pair of sneakers without hurting her pride.

“Brody, I know you're close with your brothers,” Kat said, drawing him back to the present and the fact that the beautiful doctor riding shotgun didn't need his pity now, years later. “But I think it would be best if we didn't share the details of last night with your siblings.”

“We're close, but not the close,” Brody said. “What happened last night stays between us. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Kat said. “I appreciate your discretion.”

He nodded, his teeth grinding together. Hell would freeze over before he told his siblings he'd bound Josh's doctor with her own clothes.

“But Brody?”

He stole a quick glance at her. “Yeah?”

“For what it's worth,” she said, her voice a low rumble. “I liked it. It can't happen again. But I don't want you to feel shy about sharing your fantasies.”

Her words went straight to his groin. Despite being somewhat influenced by his brain, his lower half didn't seem to care that he couldn't touch her again. Not while she was treating Josh.

Add in the fact that she'd been passed from family to family as a kid and it would be flat out wrong to offer anything—­like another night of kinky sex—­that suggested he was using her. Dr. Katherine Arnold might as well have been walking around with a sign over her head that read: Brody Summers, Don't Even Think About It.

But logic couldn't shake the image of Kat against the door, her hands bound behind her back, screaming his name.

He shouldn't feel a damn thing for her after the way she'd left out the bit about being the most complicated woman he could possibly find for a night of no-­holds-­barred sex. Still, the parts of him that responded to that mental flashback felt a whole helluva lot. Maybe it was the fact that she liked being tied up with her own clothes while he tasted her. Or maybe it was the memories of Kat as a girl and her damn shoes.

He could picture her sitting at that art table in clothes that didn't fit quite right. And as a teenager, he'd taken a strong interest in the girls who wore tight clothes. Even before he could touch, he had to admit he liked to look at a woman's curves.

Breasts weren't the only feature that drew him in. Not anymore. He had a soft spot for ­people who needed him. The accomplished doctor might not want him. But the girl he remembered? The one who'd traveled through life alone for too long? She might.

Brody pressed on the brake before making a right onto the road into town. He was pretty damn certain that was his dick trying to reason with his common sense. If she'd needed a friend—­or more—­back when she called this place home, she didn't now.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her studying the buildings as they hit the outskirts of Main Street. “Bring back memories?”

“Yes.”

They drove past the police station, town hall, and the best and only pizza place in town, A Slice of Independence. “Are you hungry? I can stop if you want to pick something up.”

“No thank you. I can walk into town later, once I'm settled at the hotel,” she said.

“It's a bit of a hike. Are you sure you don't want to rent a car? Or you could borrow one of our trucks. Josh has only driven his once since he moved back home. I'd like to keep it that way for a while longer.”

She shook her head. “I have my license, but it's been a year or two since I was behind the wheel. Much longer since I drove a stick. Most of the time, I use a car ser­vice when visiting patients.”

“Independence Falls doesn't have a taxi company. But between myself and my brother and sister, we can get you where you need to go.”

“Thank you. If it is OK with you, I'd like to meet Josh before we stop at the hotel.”

“Good. He's eager to get started. And if it is all right with you, we all want to be there for the first meeting.”

“Of course. I want you and your siblings involved from the start. I only have two weeks to work with him and his caregivers before I return to Manhattan.”

One more item for the list of reasons he couldn't touch her. She was already counting down the days until she returned to New York City.

 

Chapter 7

K
AT
SAT
AT
the Summers family kitchen table, a piece of furniture Brody had handcrafted using downed trees on the property. Two of the Summers siblings had offered that fact when she'd run her hand over the smooth surface, admiring the woodwork. Josh sat at the far end, armed with a notebook and pen, flanked by his siblings.

“We'll begin with a series of information processing tests,” Kat explained, focusing on her patient. She glanced down at the chart in front of her. “Your records show that you have already begun taking the antidepressant, and we'll continue with the medication.”

“Even if it's not working?” Chad asked. He might have looked like his big brother, Brody, but Chad's default expression was warm and charming.

“Josh, do you feel it is helping?” she asked. She'd agreed to let the family sit in while she discussed her plans because she needed their help executing aspects of Josh's treatment. But at the end of the day, she was here for Josh.

Brody shifted in his chair. “I believe last night was a clear signal the drug isn't doing enough.”

Josh glanced down at his notebook and then up at Brody. “Do you only get laid when you're feeling down, bro? That sure explains a lot.”

Like last night, she thought. At the hotel.

Tension radiated off the man sitting next to her. “This isn't about me.”

“The medication can only do so much on its own,” Kat said, seeking to regain control of the conversation before her mind wandered into the why-­did-­Brody-­take-­me-­to-­his-­room last night territory. She had a feeling the answer to that question was simple: sometimes a person simply wanted.

And sometimes the wanting didn't fade in the light of day. She'd expected it to dissipate when they hit the Independence Falls town line. This place didn't exactly inspire happy thoughts. But Brody and the memory of how he'd looked at her last night, like he wanted to possess every inch of her . . . that image took happy thoughts to a sinfully delicious new level.

And an entirely inappropriate place for her first meeting with Josh.

She drew a deep breath and continued. “While Josh and I work on exercises designed to improve his memory recall—­”

“How is your trial different from the things they did at the hospital?” Katie Summers, the fiery redhead, stepped in, her expression wary. “And at the rehab facility? The last doctor we brought in had him playing all kinds of memory games.”

“My colleague and I developed a course of treatment that takes everyday tasks, things that involve completing steps in a particular sequence, actions that take stimuli from the external environment, and process that stimuli into coherent thought,” she explained. “Baking is one activity that is working well for us.”

“Doc, you think that if I make a cake my memory will come back?” Josh said, in a tone that clearly labeled her as crazy.

“Not at first, but over time it is one of the things that might help.” She glanced around the table. “Keeping a consistent environment is also important.”

“So Brody can't fire Megan, huh?” Josh said.

“I think you might need to discuss your relationship with your caregiver. If she becomes more of a girlfriend, you may want to hire someone else. I'm not saying she can't fulfill both roles, but it presents a conflict.”

“One he doesn't need right now,” Brody said.

She nodded, meeting his serious gaze. Brody had heard her words and applied them to their situation. But a few nights of kinky sex didn't have to be complicated. Not for Josh, or for his reserved-­in-­/files/07/67/82/f076782/public/wild-­in-­the-­bedroom big brother.

No, don't go there! You can't get involved
, a little voice shouted in her head. She was here to focus on her job.

“I'm writing that down. Doctor green-­lighted sex.” Josh glanced up the table at Brody. “Maybe you should ask the doctor if she has any advice for you, bro? Ways to spice up your personal life.”

“Josh,” his sister said, her tone somewhere between teasing and serious. “Leave Brody alone. He's only trying to help.”

“I would be happy to sit down with your brother and talk through his feelings,” Kat said. Her teasing words might come back to haunt her, but she couldn't help poking the man who looked like he might shatter from tension. “But I doubt your big brother needs my advice.”

Josh let out a bark of laughter. “I like you, Dr. Arnold. So, when do we make our first cake?”

A
N
HOUR
LATER
, seated in the cab of Brody's truck as they sped down the two-­lane country roads, Kat gave the first meeting with Josh a mental V for victory. Brody's little brother liked her. That would make presenting him with challenging and sometimes frustrating tasks much easier. And yes, she felt a tiny bit bad that those words—­
I like you, Dr. Arnold
—­had come at Brody's expense. Judging from his stony expression, Brody wasn't ready to do cartwheels over her progress.

“For the record, I never mentioned last night,” she said.

“Thank you.” He bit out the words as if still struggling to keep his frustration under lock and key.

“And I meant what I said, I'm happy to listen if you need someone to talk to,” she added.

“I don't need a shrink,” he said. “Last night didn't happen because I'd hit a breaking point or was overwhelmed with relief.”

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, even though the answer might cut open a fresh wound. And right now, driving through this town, she didn't need anything else pulling at her defenses.

“I took one look at your legs and I wanted to taste every inch of you,” he growled. “Kat, I can't escape the mental picture of you up against that door. And, right now, driving past Mrs. Henry's goat farm, your panties are burning a freaking hole in my pocket.”

“You found my underwear?” A smile formed on her lips. Knowing this man wanted her—­not an escape from the stress bearing down on him—­spoke to a part of her brain she'd tried to intentionally disconnect in college and medical school. The part that made her draw hearts in her high school notebook around the words
Brody & Kat
.

“Yeah.”

“Planning to return them?”

He hit the break and turned the wheel, bringing the truck to a dead stop on the side of the two-­lane road. Guiding the stick into Park with near-­frantic movements, Brody lifted his hips and withdrew the thong from his pocket.

“Here.” His gaze locked with hers as he held out the forgotten panties.

Without looking away, she plucked them from his hand, her fingers brushing his, sending electric pulses racing through her. Her body begged to even the orgasm count right here in the front seat of his truck.

“Thank you.” She ran her tongue over her lips, drawing his attention. Every inch of her body screamed
Kiss me
,
take me, now
. “Brody—­”

“I can't.” Shifting in his seat—­it didn't take a series of anatomy lectures from medical school to recognize the fact that this man was very turned on—­Brody put the truck in Drive. “You're my brother's doctor,” he added.

“That's right. Josh's. Not yours,” she said as he merged onto the road. “What's between us has nothing to do with your brother's treatment. You have my word on that.”

He shook his head. “It's too complicated.”

“I know,” she admitted. “But it might be fun.”

And a welcome distraction from unwanted memories.

Glancing out the window, she saw the familiar sights of Main Street. They were close to the hotel now. She could use the distraction to make some new memories there. He could take control, whisper his fantasies in her ear—­anything to keep her focused on the here and now.

“Just think about it, Brody,” she added, her gaze focused on the Falls Hotel as they pulled into the parking lot. “Please.”

S
ITTING
NEXT
TO
Dr. Katherine Arnold was like steering a semi hauling a load of logs through an unexpected whiteout. He had no clue what she would do or say next. He'd fought the urge to yell “What the hell” when she'd hinted at his sex life while seated at his kitchen table. He wanted to rein her in, to fight for control even though he couldn't for the life of him anticipate what would come out of her mouth next.

Then she'd said please, and he wanted to be the one to grant her every wish, to hell with consequences. But he'd already played that card, letting desire win, and look where it landed him.

“I'll think about it,” he said, even though he couldn't shake the feeling that another night with Kat wasn't the right move. “But first let's get you settled.”

Then he needed to haul ass back home, shower, shave, and dress for Eric Moore's wedding to Georgia Trulane.

He parked by the front entrance, stepped down from the truck and went around to get her bag. Kat took the handle but didn't move to the hotel entrance. Staring straight ahead, her lips sank into a frown.

“I know it's not the Ritz,” he said. “But the Falls Hotel is the only option in town.”

Unless he offered her the studio apartment over his barn. His brothers, and sometimes his little sister, used it as a place to take their dates. He'd done the same once or twice when he didn't feel like subjecting a girlfriend to his family. But now Chad spent most of his time at Lena's apartment, Katie had moved in with Liam, and Josh, well up until last night he'd been off the market. But the thought of having Kat so close, teasing him at every turn—­that thought tied him in knots.

“The hotel is clean and comfortable,” he said. “But I doubt it has changed much since you lived here. Same 1980s interior. Not that you had any reason to come here as a kid.”

“I don't need fancy.” Kat tightened her grip on her suitcase handle, but she didn't step forward. “And I've been inside before.”

“Prom?”

She shook her head. “I didn't go to prom. When I was seven, my social worker took me to an adoption event held in the hotel lobby. Prospective families from the area who might be willing to adopt an older child.”

Her voice trembled as if she'd left her bold, self-­assured tone in his truck. One look at her stricken expression and he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. The seductive woman, the one who'd faced him head-­on when revealing her true reasons for traveling to Oregon, had vanished. In her place stood a person who looked as if she'd been delivered to the doorstep of a nightmare.

“Didn't go well, huh?” he said, trying to picture her as a grade-­school child. He barely remembered her from high school, and his mind couldn't make the jump.

“I brought my science fair project,” she said. “You remember those trifold boards?”

“Yeah. My dad took us to the hardware store to pick them up around science fair time each year,” he said, unsure how the poster related to the fact that her feet were glued to the white line dividing his parking space from the empty one beside his truck.

“My second grade teacher made sure I had one that year. My project was about the solar system. For a while I thought I wanted to be an astronaut. I presented it to every family. I wanted to show them I was smart. But . . .”

She shrugged, forcing a smile. “No one called about me. I guess they didn't like my hypothesis. Funny thing is, I can't even remember what I was trying to prove.”

“You don't have to laugh it off,” he said.

“It was a long time ago. I can see the humor now.”

And he could still see the heartache.

Brody fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight. One glance at Kat told him a porcupine would be more receptive to a hug right now. But damn it, he wanted to offer her something. He understood childhood sorrow and despair. When his mother left, he'd wondered why she hadn't wanted him and his siblings. But he had chalked it up to something being wrong with his mom, and he'd focused on the ­people who wanted him. His brothers. His sister. His father. He'd never had to prove he was worthy of a family. Not to them.

At seven years old, Kat had walked into that hotel alone and believing no one wanted her, and she'd left with confirmation. Maybe he couldn't hug her, but he had to do something.

“We have a studio apartment over the barn,” he said. “You can't walk to town, but you'd be close to Josh.”

“Thank you, but I'll be fine at the hotel,” she said, stepping off the white line. “I'd forgotten all about that day until we pulled into the lot.”

Yeah, that was a big fat lie.

“Kat, do you have plans tonight?”

He couldn't stand the thought of her alone in that hotel surrounded by the memory of her seven-­year-­old self determined to prove her worth and then coming up empty.

Kat glanced over her shoulder, pausing in the space marked for a car. “I was planning to catch up on work. And update Dr. Westbury on my first meeting with Josh.”

“Give Dr. Westbury another day to recover from surgery,” he said. “It's your first night back. And Eric Moore is getting married up at Willamette Valley Vineyards. He's younger than us, but you might remember him. Georgia, Eric's bride, reserved a spot for Josh, but he's been clear he doesn't want to go. You might see some familiar faces.”

“You're inviting me to a wedding?” Her green eyes widened. “That's your idea of having some fun together?”

No, he was still on the fence about more “fun.” But she could label it whatever she wanted as long as she said yes. “For tonight, yeah it is.”

Kat frowned. “I didn't pack a dress.”

He glanced down at her suitcase. From where he was standing, it looked as if she'd packed half her closet. Or maybe she'd only brought the short skirts and fancy underwear.