Jill Shalvis - Instant Gratification

Nothing.

He turned her to face him. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes unhappy, and his stomach clenched as he tried to pull her in.

“Okay, whoa.” She pointed at him. “No more of that.”

“The hugging?”

“The looking at me like I mean something to you. The soft, sexy voice that makes it so I can’t think. The touching. The kissing. The…rest. Most definitely the rest.” She exited the closet, heading to the reception area, where she pulled open the door for him, setting off the ceramic cowbells.

It’d stopped raining, but water still dripped off the eaves. He walked to where she stood in the doorway, purposely crowding her. “Can’t help the looking at you like you mean something, because you do.”

“Stop.”

“Because…?”

“Because it’s a mistake. And because I don’t like to make mistakes. Look,” she said on a sigh, searching for words. “Starting something with you wouldn’t be right. I’ve already got one foot out the door. I’m only here for my father. That’s it.”

“Sure about that?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, seems to me that you could have told him no. You could have hired another doctor to run the place. But you didn’t. You came. I think you did because you wanted to connect.”

“I connect plenty. I’m connected to work. I’m connected to Spencer. I was connected with my mom.”

“Your mom is gone,” he said very gently, taking her hand when she whirled away. “Spencer is a man who by your own admissions is someone who doesn’t stick. And-”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“And,” he went on anyway, “work doesn’t count. So the question stands, Emma. How exactly are you connected right now?”

“You think you have me all figured out.” She yanked free. “But you don’t. You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to know you plenty. I know, for instance, that you swim like a fish, that you’re insanely competitive, a crappy driver, and that you’re amused by people afraid of needles.”

She met his gaze. “That’s all superficial stuff.”

“I’d know more, but you’re pretty careful of yourself.”

“Yeah.” She let out a low breath and looked away. “I guess it’s hard to be insulted by the truth.”

“Look, I know you like challenges,” he said very quietly, stepping close again because he liked being close, lifting her face because he liked to see her eyes. “So here’s a big one for you.”

“I’m not making another bet. I keep losing.”

“You’ll win this one. Let me know you. Let me in.”

“Stone.”

“Try connecting, Emma, with me. Come on, what could it hurt? Unless, of course, you’re afraid.”

Her gaze hit his, inadvertently revealing to him the truth, that she wasn’t afraid of much, but she most definitely was of this.

Them.

“Is that it?” he pressed. “Did I find something the tough, badass New York doc fears?”

“Oh, you want to mock my fears now?” she asked, clearly trying to throw him off the track with her ironic tone. “Really?”

Willing to laugh at himself, he grinned. “Okay, but at least I know mine.”

She made a soft disparaging sound. “This is ridiculous.”

“Uh huh. Because you’re afraid.”

“Say that one more time, say it to my face and see what happens.”

“You’re afraid,” he taunted softly.

“You are impossible.”

“See? You’re getting to know me already.” He smiled when she laughed. “Come on, Emma. Give me a try.”

Staring up at him, she shook her head.

“You might like it. You might like me.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes.” He was also smart enough to know when to back off and let a woman think. With a steady purpose, he leaned in and kissed her once, slowly, with just a hint of heat, and walked away.

He hoped like hell the gamble paid off.

Emma was still in an odd and conflicting state of arousal and confusion that night when Spencer got back, dropped off by TJ, not Stone, which she knew because she found herself pressing her face to the upstairs living room window to peek.

Give me a try, he’d said. Connect, with me.

And she’d scoffed. She didn’t need to give him a try, she didn’t need to give anyone a try. And connecting? Please. She was only here for a very limited time, and then she was going home, where things were great and nothing was missing from her life.

Nothing.

Except someone to connect with.

Damn him for pointing that out. Damn him for being right.

“Hi honey, I’m home!” Spencer came in the door and tossed down his backpack, opening his arms in great exaggeration for a welcome hug and kiss.

She lifted a brow. “I see a bear didn’t get you.”

“Nope. Miss me?” He was smiling, but it slowly faded, to be replaced by a questioning curiosity. “What’s that look on your face?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

“You have a mix of…I’m not sure if it’s a glow, or a temper.”

She covered her cheeks with her hands, knowing it was the damn closet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“TJ told me about the truck and the ditch. You okay?”

“Completely fine.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Emma, it’s me. The master of deception when it comes to feelings, remember?”

“Well then, I certainly wouldn’t want to burden you with mine.”

“Nice try.” He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it aside. “Look, we could do the whole dance around it thing, but I’m hungry and tired, and don’t have the patience.”

She laughed. “Honestly, it’s touching how into me you are.”

“I’ll drive all the way to South Shore and buy you that Thai if you tell me.”

She’d have done a whole hell of a lot more for Thai, so she caved like a cheap suitcase. “It’s Stone.”

“Ah. You still crushing on the big, bad boy of the mountain?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. How’s that for a straight answer?”

He tugged affectionately on a strand of her hair. “We’ve always been close.”

“No. Actually, we’ve remained such good friends because we aren’t too close, right?”

He lifted a shoulder in acknowledgment of that. “Fine. But one thing we have always been with each other, is honest. Brutally so.”

“True.”

“So.” He offered her a half smile. “Be honest now. You slept with him. You slept with him and instead of being done as you usually are, you want more.”

She stared at him, stunned at that quick and horrifyingly accurate assessment. “Yes.”

“Well that sucks.” He let out a breath and turned away so she couldn’t see his eyes. “I’m hungry. I don’t suppose you cooked?” He sighed again at the empty kitchen. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

“Spence-”

“It’s okay, Emma. I’m a big boy and I asked.” At the unexpected knock on the door, he moved toward it. “Hey, maybe it’s a miraculous Thai food delivery from heaven.”

Instead, it was Serena, wrapped in a wind breaker and a black mini skirt. “I’m looking for the doc,” she said to Spence. “Is she here?”

Emma moved into view. “Right here, Serena. Is there something wrong?”

“Well, I guess you could say it’s that I wasn’t the dweeb and didn’t waste the best years of my life in medical school like you did.”

Spencer leaned against the doorjamb, amused. “So you’re a close friend of Emma’s then.”

Serena sighed, closing her eyes. “Dammit. Was that snippy, because I was actually going for nice. I’m not very good at it.” She opened her eyes, which were just a little glazed over. “I’ll stick with my bitchy self. I need a doc, Sexy Man. So move out of my way.”

Spencer didn’t. “I’m a doctor, too.”

“Wow, God really gave with both hands when it came to you, didn’t he.” She narrowed her eyes as she took him in. “Quick, what are your faults?”

“I leave the toilet seat up and don’t bother with the cap on the toothpaste.”

“Sharp wits, too. Very nice. How are you with the bedside manner?”

He grinned. “Better than Emma.”

From behind him, Emma rolled her eyes, but Serena laughed. “And confident. Okay, I pick you.”

Spencer looked intrigued. “For…?”

She pulled her hands from beneath her coat. One was cradling the other, wrapped in a towel.

Spence immediately reached for her. “What happened?”

“A new knife and a stubborn piece of chocolate.”

Emma grabbed her keys for downstairs. “Let’s go take a look.”

“No, I pick Dr. McHottie,” Serena said.

“Sorry. I’m the doctor on call,” Emma told her lightly, trying to save Spencer. At the very least, Serena would walk all over him. At the most, she’d eat him up and spit him out.

But Spencer smiled. “I’d love to earn my keep. I’ll be happy to take this one.”

Emma swiveled to look at him. “Earn your keep?”

“Seeing as you’ve put up with me all week.” He slid an arm around Serena’s waist and guided her down the stairs as if she was an invalid.

Not that Serena seemed to mind.

Emma followed. Earn his keep, her ass. Inside the clinic, she flipped on the lights and prepared a tray, but when she moved to wash her hands, Spencer was already ahead of her, washed up and unwrapping Serena’s hand to examine it. “Ouch,” he murmured sympathetically.

“Yeah.” Serena held her breath as he touched. “Bad?”

“No.” He smiled into her face. “Just a couple of stitches. Probably only two.”

“Oh boy.” Serena nibbled on her lower lip. “I don’t like needles.”

Must be a Wishful thing, Emma thought, and opened her mouth to say something, like consider it Karma with a capital K, but Spencer spoke first.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he told Serena. “I’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Really?” Serena’s eyes locked on his. “Can you do that?”

“I specialize in it.” He glanced at Emma with the unspoken question, and with a shrug, she gestured him to go ahead.