Just like that, p.5
Just Like That, page 5
“Have you had an orgasm with a woman?”
She wobbled, the screw hit the table again, and his grip tightened on her leg. “Excuse me?”
Sam stroked his hand up and down her calf. Slowly. Completely ignoring the screw this time. “If you haven’t had an orgasm with a man, it was an obvious question to ask if you have with a woman.”
She took a deep breath, trying to focus on what he’d said versus the feel of his hand on her. They were talking about orgasms. Right. And women. Wrong.
She frowned. “No, I haven’t had an orgasm with a woman.”
“Too bad.” He gave her a bone-melting grin. “I had some pretty good images going.”
“I’ll bet.” She shook off his hand and bent to pick up the screw where it had bounced.
“But you’ve had one by yourself, right?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. What the heck? He knew plenty about her already. Which ensured that she was going to make a point of never seeing him again. “Yes. Several in fact.”
“Good.” He nodded, apparently pleased with her answer.
“Good?”
“No woman should go without orgasms completely.”
She couldn’t say why exactly, but that struck her as funny. She grinned. “If only everyone was so certain about their beliefs.”
He winked at her and it hit her that she was crazy attracted to him. And she needed to never see him again.
She straightened and fit the screw back into the tiny hole. Just then she felt the heat of Sam’s hand on her calf again. She braced herself for the stroking that commenced. What she wasn’t prepared for was the fact that his hand kept traveling up. And up.
She narrowed her eyes, concentrating on fitting the tip of the screwdriver into the star-shaped notches on the screw. But when her eyes drifted shut as Sam’s hand passed her knee and continued up, taking the hem of her skirt up with it, it was very difficult to see anything at all.
Move forward. Move out of reach.
Her legs had no idea what her brain was talking about. Why would she move away from such exquisite feelings?
You cannot do this on the dining room table—that’s probably been in the family for generations—of a sweet little old woman who you don’t even know.
Still, her legs pretended not to hear.
When Sam’s lips met the skin in the middle of the back of her thigh, she felt the heat shoot straight up between her thighs and her knees wobbled.
Then his tongue touched the crease at the back of her knee and she melted.
Literally.
She vaguely heard Sam gasp, “Danika!” but the next true sensation she was aware of was the sharp pain from where her knees hit the table, stealing her breath, and the hot knife that was seemingly dug into her right wrist.
She thought about gasping, or screaming, or swearing loudly, but her chest wouldn’t expand.
Holy crap. That hurt.
Holy crap. She was hurt.
“Danika!”
Shit, damn, fuck.
“Danika,” he said earnestly. “Are you okay?”
Somehow, without even thinking, he’d gotten her up sitting on the edge of the table instead of on her hands and knees, not breathing and looking white as a sheet.
Now, a few minutes later, she was still not breathing deeply and was white as a sheet. But she was upright.
Her pulse was strong, she wasn’t bleeding, she hadn’t hit her head. She was technically okay.
“Hmm?”
“Danika? Honey, are you hurt?”
Of course she was hurt. She’d hit the table hard. She’d gone forward, but her legs hadn’t moved with her—since he’d had a hold of them—and she’d gone down onto all fours, her hands hitting just milliseconds before her knees.
It was all his fault.
She blinked long and slow three times before he was sure she was focused on his face.
“What the…” She reached to rub her right knee with her right hand, but instantly sucked in a quick, hard breath. “Damn!”
“Your knee?” Had she cracked her kneecap? That was a hell of an injury. His hands sandwiched her knee and he pressed a thumb against the center of the knee cap.
She winced but it didn’t elicit an expletive, which had to be a good sign. She shook her head.
“Did I fall on a knife?”
He stared at her. He was positive she hadn’t hit her head. “What do you mean?”
“Did I fall on a knife with my hand? It feels like it.”
Oh, terrific. Her hand felt like she’d fallen on a knife when she most certainly had not. Sure, that was normal. And fine. Nothing to worry about at all. Dammit.
“Let me see.” He took her hand gently. It was swelling. Shit. “Where?”
“All of it.”
He started moving her fingers one by one. She winced with all of them, particularly when he moved her two middle fingers. He felt along each of the long bones of her hand, again with only slight wincing. But when he tried to move her wrist, she jerked back.
“No!”
“The wrist?” He took her hand back gently. “I’ll be easy. But I have to see what’s going on.”
“I just fell on it funny,” she said. “It’s just a strain.”
“Let’s check it,” he said grimly. He pressed on the middle of the back of her wrist and she instantly jerked and tears filled her eyes.
He looked at her and sighed. “We have to go to the hospital, Danika. I think you broke your wrist.”
On the drive to the emergency room at St. Anthony’s, Sam had no idea what to say. Which was so unusual for him, especially with women, that he felt like he’d hit his head.
“Stop it.”
He looked at Danika in surprise. “What?”
“Stop beating yourself up.”
She was cradling her hand against her stomach, with the makeshift ice bag on it that he’d made from a plastic sandwich bag and cubes from Natalia’s freezer.
He frowned. “I’m not.”
She rolled her head against the headrest to look at him. She smiled. “Of course you are. Any guy who goes to women’s houses to check their light bulbs and vacuum is going to feel bad about me falling.”
“You broke your wrist. Because of me.”
“You don’t know that I broke it, and it wasn’t your fault.”
“You did break it.”
“You don’t know—”
“I am an excellent paramedic, if nothing else,” he interrupted.
“If nothing else?” she repeated. “What does that mean?”
He suddenly jerked the wheel, pulling sharply to the side of the road. He shoved the car into park and turned to her. “It means that being a paramedic and recognizing obvious things like the fact that you broke your wrist when you fell are the only things that I’ve done right tonight. As usual.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “I broke your wrist while trying to seduce you. Jesus, Danika, do you know how I’m feeling right now?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing guilty.”
That was it. Her only response, her only reaction. She wasn’t scared of him, she wasn’t angry with him.
“I feel like hell.” He swore. “All I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you was kiss you and now I’m driving you to the ER.”
She said nothing, but she dropped the ice bag on the floor. Then she leaned in and grabbed the front of his shirt with her uninjured hand, pulled him close and kissed him.
At first, Sam only let their lips meet, refusing to move them, refusing to reach for her, to pull her close. He didn’t deserve to kiss her. He didn’t deserve to touch her. Look what had happened when he had touched her.
But she tasted so good. She felt so good. She smelled so good.
He gave in with a groan, pulling her up against his chest, angling his head to taste her more deeply, with long strokes of his tongue, his hands stroking over her shoulders, down her back to her hips, desperate to make her feel good, desperate to assure himself that while her wrist hurt, the rest of her was okay.
She moaned in response and Sam let the sound of her satisfaction seep through him. This was something he was always good at. This and taking care of emergency injuries.
Which abruptly brought his passion to a screeching halt.
“Emergency room,” he rasped against Danika’s lips. “Wrist.”
“It feels better,” she whispered, trying to pull him closer as he tried to pull back.
“It won’t in a little bit.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He put his lips against the side of her neck, drawing them up to her ear where he said huskily, “The positions I have in mind will put too much pressure on your wrist.”
She chuckled. “I have a feeling I won’t mind.”
“I will be so worried about it, I won’t be able to concentrate.”
“I’m guessing you’ve done enough of it, you can do it even when distracted.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed as he pulled back, as out of reach as he could get. “We’re going to the hospital.”
She experimentally tried to wiggle her fingers. They moved and she only frowned. Then she tried the wrist. She sucked in a sharp breath and then held it, then squeezed her eyes shut.
“Yeah, exactly,” he said dourly, putting the car into drive. There wasn’t anything he could do for her wrist here. The sooner they got to the ER, the better.
3
“Did you put the tools away?” Danika asked a minute later. “At Natalia’s. Before we left? I don’t remember.”
He frowned. Hell, he didn’t remember either, but he’d been so focused on Danika and getting her into the car, he doubted it. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Did you put the cover back on the ceiling fan?”
He frowned harder. Of course not. He hadn’t given the fan one single thought since the hem of her skirt had lifted high enough to expose the silky skin of the back of her thighs. “No.”
“We have to go back.”
They were five minutes from the ER. “No.”
“Natalia’s going to get home and see all of that?” she asked. “Not only will it blow your cover but she’ll be scared that someone was in her house until she knows it was you.”
He sighed. She was right.
All in one night, three things he did very well—taking care of Natalia, seducing a beautiful woman and taking care of an injury—had gotten complicated. As soon as he’d met Danika.
He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and punched in Mac’s number.
“Can you go over to Natalia’s and clean up my stuff before she gets home?” he asked, knowing that Mac would know it was him by the incoming number.
“Why? What’s up?”
“I had to leave…” He glanced at Danika. “Quickly. Didn’t get a chance to clean up.”
“Why?”
Mac didn’t exactly believe in things like privacy or people having secrets.
“There’s something I had to take care of.”
“Something like what?”
It wasn’t that Mac was slow. Quite the opposite. For Sam to be giving him vague answers meant that Sam was up to something that Mac would be interested in.
“A woman,” Sam said shortly.
“Who?”
“No one you know.”
“Will I get to meet her?”
“How long have we known each other?” Sam asked.
“Eight years.”
“And in all that time, how many times have I had a woman meet my friends?”
“On purpose or including the times that we showed up anyway?”
“On purpose.”
“Once,” Mac said. “No wait. We paid that little boy who lives in your apartment building to call us when you got home.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, sarcastically. “Blake. Cute kid.”
Mac chuckled. “Melissa had fun playing cards with us.”
“She did.”
“I don’t think you dated her again, did you?”
“Nope.” Sam found it was too difficult to get his relationships mixed up. He didn’t want his friends or sisters to get to know any woman he dated. There was always the chance that they would all get along and like her. That just meant even more people to be disappointed or upset when he didn’t see her again.
“So you’ll do it?” Sam asked.
“Sure.”
“Thanks, man.” Sam disconnected before Mac could ask any more questions or hear the wailing siren approaching. The last thing he needed was for his friends to find out he’d put a woman in the hospital on their first date.
They pulled around the corner to the entrance of the ER and Sam parked in his employee spot. But it wasn’t until the doors slid open that Sam realized it was a mistake to bring Danika to the ER at St. Anthony’s. Mac might not have heard the sounds of the ER over the phone, but he knew the entire staff in the emergency room, and they all knew Mac. And everyone else in Sam’s life.
It was too late.
“Sam!” Kaylee, the ER receptionist, came around the corner of the counter. “What’s going on?”
His arm was around Danika, who was holding her hand against her stomach, the ice pack back in place.
“We need some x-rays.”
“Come on back.” Kaylee started for a treatment room.
“We can wait,” Danika protested, glancing at the two other people in the waiting room.
“No, we can’t.” He didn’t want Danika sitting and waiting, with her wrist hurting and her hand swelling. At least this was one thing he could do for her—get her into the damned ER without waiting.
“Sam, there are—”
“It’s fine,” Kaylee said.
“No, they were here first.”
“But you’re here with Sam,” Kaylee said with a wink. “That’s like showing up with the President.”
“I’m not that hurt,” Danika tried again.
“Kaylee.” Sam squeezed Danika’s shoulder. “What are they here for?” He gestured toward the others in the waiting room.
“One’s waiting for his dad who’s back on the heart monitor, the other one is complaining of stomach pain.”
“Get that guy in,” Sam said. He knew he should mean it, but for him no one came before Danika. Still, it would make her happy and she wasn’t dying. “Then us.”
“Dr. Larson is on his way,” Kaylee said. “And the guy won’t see anyone else.”
Sam looked down at Danika. “No reason to wait.”
“Fine.” She let him guide her down the hall to the second exam room.
Danika slid up onto the exam table with one hand. “Like being with the President, huh?”
He shrugged. “I bring the front desk staff bagels on Tuesdays.”
“Kissing up?”
“At first.” He grinned. “But now it’s because I like them.” He was thinking about finding a reason to sneak out before the on-call physician came in. It didn’t matter who it was, he knew them all, and they would all be sure that everyone else knew about this fiasco.
“Hey, Sam.” Lisa, another of the ER clerks, poked her head into the room. “Kaylee said you were here. Tommie’s here. He wants to talk to you.”
It was the perfect excuse to get out of seeing Danika’s doctor. “What the heck?”
“Room two,” Lisa said.
“Of course.” Tommie had a thing for even numbers and had an aversion to the number four.
“The nurses are willing to all pitch money in for beer if you give him a shower.”
“He was just here last week. He can’t smell that bad.”
“But he’ll be back next week and if you shower him today it will save all our noses then.”
“You realize you’re talking about me getting a man in a shower.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “I’m aware.”
“Now if the nurses were willing to all pitch in and get in with us…”
“The shower stall isn’t that big, Sam.”
“Your loss.”
“I’m not a nurse.”
“You’re still invited.”
“Thanks, but my fiancé might protest.” She rolled her eyes again, but was smiling.
“In that case, I’ll talk to Tommie about wet wipes and deodorant.” Sam shrugged and tried to look apologetic. Even though he knew Lisa wasn’t buying it. “Best I can do.”
“You’re a prince,” Lisa said just before the door bumped shut behind her.
He was chuckling as he dug in his pocket for the seventy-five cents he needed for the vending machine. He glanced at Danika, who was watching him. Oops. The comment about the shower with the nurses had been a joke, but probably not appropriate in front of the woman he was on a kind-of date with. “What?”
“You’re amazing.”
“Thanks. Why?”
“The sex shop with me and now you’re inviting multiple women to shower with you.”
He shrugged, now feeling bad. “I was kidding around. I don’t date, or sleep with, the women in the ER. Too uncomfortable after things end.”
“Got it.” She didn’t look annoyed or jealous…or in that much pain. Maybe the ibuprofen he’d pilfered from Natalia’s kitchen cupboard was helping.
“Dr. Mitchell is in with the guy with the cardiac arrhythmia, Sam,” Kaylee told them just then. “It’s going to be a while for you.”
Sam sighed. He wanted Danika seen, x-rayed and fixed. Now. Dammit.
“How’s your pain?” he asked her.
“Not terrible if I don’t move it.”
“Want to come meet Tommie?”
Danika shrugged. “Why not?”
He liked that about her. That she just went with the flow. He’d prefer to be having her go with it in the sex shop, or bed, or the front seat of his car, but it looked like this night wasn’t going to go exactly the way he wanted no matter what. “Let’s go.”
He took her good hand, wanting, needing to touch her. Stupid as it was. They stopped at the soda machine in the hallway and got a can of Pepsi, then continued to room two.
