Wild with You Page 4

  His voice trailed off. She didn’t need to know the details of Josh’s short-­term memory loss, or the depression that had followed.

  “And now he’s missing,” she said.

  “Yeah, but he didn’t go far. The cars are still there. So is his caregiver, I’m guessing.”

  “And chances are they’re together.”

  “Yes.” Together and doing the things he wished he could do to her. But just in case Josh had wandered off into the woods surrounding his family’s property, or taken one of his sister’s rescue horses for a joy ride, Brody needed to wait by the phone. Heck, he’d drive down and start looking himself if he didn’t needed to be here to pick up the famous Dr. Westbury in the morning.

  “I should go,” she said.

  “Wait.” Brody stepped forward. The thought of watching the door close behind her without the promise of more felt downright wrong. Chalk it up to the fact that part of him still wanted her—­her mouth on him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped inside her. Or credit the fact that his desires lined up pretty damn well with hers, and one night wasn’t enough. Not even close.

  “How long are you in town?” he asked, glancing around the room. He found a pad of paper with the hotel logo across the top and a matching pen on the desk. He quickly wrote his name and number on the top sheet, tore it off and held it out to her. “I’d like to see you again.”

  Surprise stared back at him. Shit, maybe she’d only wanted a few hours with him. That thought stung, probably more than it should.

  But then a smile, edged with sadness, replaced her wide-­eyed shock, and she took the paper from his hand.

  “You’ll be seeing me again soon, Brody.”

  Chapter 5

  KAT SLID THE key card into the door while mentally listing the things she’d lost in Brody Summer’s hotel room. Her control—­she’d tossed that aside the minute he stripped her down and tied her up. Her plan to offer comfort, to listen to his problems—­as soon as he learned the kid was safe, she’d abandoned her good intentions.

  And last, but not least, her underwear.

  Opening the door, Kat headed for the king-­sized bed, flopped down on her stomach and buried her face in the pillows. She’d left her black lace thong behind. But the minutes after he’d received a call about his missing brother, also known as her future patient, hardly felt like the time to ask for help finding her panties. And she was admittedly still rattled from the way he’d taken over, calling the shots and issuing commands.

  Spread your legs for me, Kat.

  She’d never in a million years expected one night with the man who’d patiently helped glue her only pair of shoes together would turn into that. After learning about the lost kid, she had planned to sideline her Brody Summers fantasies, not jump on board with his. What happened in his room wasn’t an oops, we gave into a mutual desire thing. He’d opened up to her, letting her in. To his sexual fantasies, sure, but it was a step beyond casual sex.

  She’d mastered the one-­night stand in college, perfecting the art of pushing men away before they left her. But they’d never been like this. The connection. The need. The trust. The orgasms. The night she’d experienced left her standing on shaky ground with a man she had to face in the morning.

  Tomorrow she had to reveal the reason for her trip, and endure an awkward two-­hour drive in this state that spelled out bad memories. One hundred twenty minutes spent wondering what would have happened if Brody’s brother hadn’t interrupted earlier. Two hours of trying to guess if the man who’d tied her up and delivered back-­to-­back orgasms regretted their time together, or wanted more.

  The thought of Brody’s tall, muscular frame seated behind the wheel, steering his vehicle down the road while silently wishing he’d stayed at the bar last night far, far away from her—­that mental picture cut into her like a knife opening an old wound.

  “What is it about this state?” she murmured, tossing the pillow aside. She set foot in Oregon and the old hurts she’d buried here long ago resurfaced, driving her to make choices that in hindsight looked downright stupid.

  She wasn’t an orphan clinging to a desperate hope that someone would like her enough to offer a place to call home. Back in Manhattan, she lived in a high rise. Her two-­bedroom apartment probably cost more than the largest house in Independence Falls. Work drove her life. She’d earned her colleagues’ respect as she’d climbed closer and closer to the top of her field. A specialty she’d selected because it was one of the most challenging. She didn’t need the ­people out here to like her.

  And she couldn’t afford to melt into a puddle of desire just because Brody Summers said the words she’d longed to hear—­I want you.

  But she had. Oh God, she had. And now she had to live with the repercussions. Only it would be so much harder than she’d imagined.

  I’d like to see you again.

  But she couldn’t get involved with him. Never mind that she was treating his brother, her life was waiting for her back in New York. She had her job and the little girl she mentored.

  OK, maybe Brianna wasn’t the best example of her ties to the East Coast. The ten-­year-­old girl barely spoke to her during their bimonthly lunches. But that hadn’t stopped Kat from daydreaming about becoming a larger part of the foster child’s life. Trips to museums. Central park in nice weather. They could go shopping for clothes and toys.

  But even if her relationship with Brianna never moved beyond sullen lunches, Kat knew she couldn’t start something with Brody. As much as she wanted to even the orgasm count, she knew better than most ­people that wishes crashed and burned every day, especially in Oregon. One more I-­can’t-­resist-­him moment and this one would detonate, threatening her carefully constructed life.

  “WHAT WERE YOU thinking?” Brody demanded, the phone pressed to his ear.

  Swinging his duffel over his other shoulder, he gave the hotel room a quick survey. Black lace peeked out from behind the desk chair. Dropping to one knee, he picked Kat’s underwear off the floor.

  One more reason for her to call. . .

  But he didn’t want Kat to reach out looking for her panties. He wanted her to pick up the phone driven by desire to see him again.

  “I haven’t gotten laid in eight months,” Josh said. “I thought now might be a good time to do something about that.”

  Fucking irony. He stared at the slip of black lace in his hand. Last night he’d been thinking the same thing. Only it had been a lot longer than eight months. And they’d stopped short of the finish line because someone had gone missing.

  “And you hired a twenty-­something goddess to watch over me,” Josh explained. “So I figured why not let her give me a full-­body exam?”

  “At least you remember what you did last night,” Brody said. “That’s something.”

  “I wrote it down. Nothing like waking up to a Post-­it note about what the nursing student looks like naked.”

  “I hired her to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid like turn on the gas stove and forget to switch it off,” Brody said, pocketing the lace thong as he headed for the door. He needed to haul ass to the lobby in order to meet the doctor who would hopefully put an end to Josh’s predicament. “Megan spent the last year taking care of Walter Kenny while working for her nursing degree. She had excellent references.”

  “Walter is an ornery old man. No wonder she wanted a roll in the hay.”

  Brody pushed the Down button and waited for an elevator. “Is that why you took her to the barn?”

  “I didn’t know when you were coming back,” Josh said. “I figured there would be less chance of interruption out there.”

  “I’m not in town right now,” he explained. “I’m in Portland picking up the neurologist who has a clinical trial dealing with memory loss.”

  “A trial?” Josh said. “Like an experimental dru
g or weird brain surgery?”

  “No. It’s a task-­oriented therapy.” Whatever the hell that meant. At this point, Dr. Westbury’s methods were their last hope.

  The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, holding the door open. “I need to go. But I’ll be home in a ­couple of hours and with the doctor. Write that down.”

  “Got it.”

  “Below that write ‘Don’t touch Megan’ in big block letters,” he added, releasing the door.

  Josh chuckled. “Sure thing. And Brody?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for finding this doctor. I hate living like this. Some days it seems like I’m getting better. But I can’t tell. And that’s so fucking depressing—­”

  The line cut out. Brody lowered his phone, his little brother’s words slicing past his frustration. So Josh had screwed his caregiver and interrupted his own wild night with Kat. Unlike his brother, Brody remembered every detail of last night, from the way she’d looked with her arms bound behind her back to the feel of her hips bucking against his mouth as she came.

  The memory of her screams, the way she’d said his name as if she needed him to push her over the edge, traveled south. The door opened and he tried to think of something else, anything besides Kat’s naked body pressed against his hotel room door, and the fact that he had her panties in his pocket.

  He didn’t want to face his brother’s new doctor with a hard-­on pressing against his jeans. Given her long list of credentials, Dr. Westbury was probably twice his age. But he doubted the woman was blind. Something about those three little letters following the MD after her name—­Ph.D.—­told him that Dr. Westbury was observant.

  Heading for the reception area where they’d agreed to meet, Brody counted back from one hundred. This trick had served him well in high school, and was working for him now.

  Until he saw the woman who had driven him wild last night.

  Kat stood by the desk, one perfectly manicured hand holding her cell phone. Compared to yesterday’s outfit, her starched white button-­up blouse, black slacks, and gold flats that bore a closer resemblance to ballet slippers than shoes, looked conservative and plain. Business clothes, he realized. But her flashy luggage sat by her feet, setting her apart from the other travelers pulling their plain bags.

  When she glanced up from her cell screen, he offered a wave and headed over. He wasn’t about to hand over her underwear in the lobby. Still, he could say good morning and offer another apology for cutting their night short.

  “I guess you were right,” he said. “About seeing each other again.”

  “Hello, Brody.” She gave him a small, tentative smile. He hadn’t known her long, but something was off.

  “Look, I’m meeting someone right now, but I meant what I said last night. I’d like to see you again. How long are you in Portland? Maybe we could grab dinner while you’re here?”

  She drew a deep, measured breath as her green eyes locked with his. And he braced for the rejection. I’m too busy, or I’m not ready to get involved right now. He’d used that one a time or two to break up with a woman who wanted more than he could give. Though he always said those words before they lost their clothes.

  “Brody,” she said slowly. “I work with Dr. Karen Westbury. I’m the person you’re waiting for.”

  Either Kat had left her seduce-­me-­if-­you-­dare voice in her hotel room or the woman he’d tied up with her own shirt was his brother’s doctor.

  Brody shook his head. It wasn’t possible. He’d told her about his brother. She would have said something.

  “I’m sorry, Brody,” she continued. “I should have told you last night. At the last minute, we decided I should be the one to handle Josh’s case.”

  Brody blinked, shock rushed in rendering him as close to helpless as he’d ever been. And damn if he didn’t hate the feeling.

  “You knew who I was?” he said, disbelief seeping into his words.

  “I grew up in Independence Falls,” she said. “That’s part of the reason Dr. Westbury felt I should be the one to treat your brother. And she broke her ankle. She had to have surgery yesterday. Rather than delay Josh’s treatment and our trial, I agreed to fly out.”

  Heck, he should be grateful she’d taken the case. But realizing that Kat had known who he was the entire time and let him believe she was an ER doctor? Shock gave way to anger, the feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach. His arms dropped to his side, his hands forming tight fists. He glanced at the wooden panels lining the front of the reception desk, wishing he could punch through them. Because right now he needed a helluva lot more than a swim to take the edge off.

  Chapter 6

  KAT 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 wer
e 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.