Call Me Wild Page 24

  Fisher dropped his pack and his medical bag on the bottom step and held his arms open.

  Jessica lunged for him, wrapping her arms around his neck for a kiss.

  He’d hoped for a kiss, but hadn’t expected that. Fisher was lucky he hadn’t ended up on his ass in the grass. He took a step back to regain his balance, gripped her backside with both hands, and kissed her like he’d wanted to since he slid out of bed that morning. It had taken all his willpower not to wake her and watch the smile that lit her face whenever she saw him. Hell, who was he kidding? It had taken all his willpower not to wake her and make love to her again.

  Fisher kept kissing her as he carried her into the house. He didn’t stop until he felt the edge of the bed hit the back of his knees and sat. God, she had him so worked up. He needed to slow things down, or he was going to go off like a bottle rocket.

  She scooted up on his lap and pulled her shirt off, tossing it on the floor. His mouth went to her breasts, as he rolled them both over, tugging her shorts down her hips.

  “No panties?”

  “I got so caught up in writing. I never bothered to get dressed. And then your grandfather came over—”

  If there was a way to slow things down, any mention of his family while they were making love certainly did the job. He slid his mouth off her breast and looked into her eyes. At least she didn’t look upset. “Gramps came over?” He rolled off her and stared at the ceiling, trying to get his breathing under control. It was a miracle she wasn’t halfway to Montana by now.

  She snuggled up to him and threw her bare leg over his waist. “He brought me lunch from the Westside Drive-In.”

  “Mom’s gonna kill him. You’d think he’d give it a break after getting caught eating a hot dog last night.”

  The flecks of gold in her eyes sparkled. “He wore a bib today.”

  “A bib?”

  “Yeah, he tied one of your kitchen towels around his neck, so he wouldn’t drip on his clothes. Unless Kate smells the grease on him, I think he’s safe.”

  “If her nose is as good as her hearing, he’s so busted. She’s got a bullshit detector that hasn’t failed yet with anyone, but maybe my father.”

  Jess slid over him and sat. “Your father is still alive?”

  “As far as I know, but then I haven’t heard from him in years, so anything’s possible.” He gave her waist a squeeze. “The support checks stopped coming on Karma’s eighteenth birthday. I don’t think any of us has heard from him since.”

  Jessica came down on top of him, her nose brushing his, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s a nonissue. We’re lucky he’s gone. Mom’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, but I don’t think she’s ever really gotten over him.” He wondered if he’d ever get over Jessica. He didn’t want reason to find out.

  “Luckily, we’ve always had Gramps. Of course, if he doesn’t stop sneaking around eating junk food, he won’t be with us much longer. Then again, if Mom catches him, she might just kill him.”

  Jessica brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes. “Kate loves her father. That much is obvious. I’m sure Gramps is safe.”

  “Gramps isn’t really our grandfather, Jess, though you’d never know it. His daughter-in-law, Ben’s mom, and my mom were best friends since they were kids. When Dad ran off, and we lost the house, Gramps and Gran took us in, gave Mom a job, and us a home. When Ben’s parents were killed, he moved in, and we’ve been one big, dysfunctionally happy family ever since.”

  “When did your grandmother die?”

  “When I was twelve. Gramps and Gran were amazing together, a real tag team those two. I wish you could have seen them. If you had, you’d never question the existence of love, that’s for sure.”

  Jessica rested her head on his shoulder. He pulled her hair band off and slid his hand into her hair, pushing it off her neck, kissing the skin he bared. “What’s this?” She had a bruise on her shoulder. He ran his finger over it.

  “Oh, that.” She smiled that sexy smile that never failed to tent his pants. “That’s from last night, up against the wall in the hallway. You don’t remember?”

  “God, Jess.” He kissed the spot he’d bruised. He remembered nipping her shoulder, but damn, he didn’t think he’d bit hard enough to bruise her. He’d lost all control—again. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t, well, not really. I love it when you go all wild on me.”

  “Yeah, just call me wild.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it all day, waiting for you to come home and do it again. That doesn’t make me kinky does it?”

  Fisher couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Considering I’m the one who bit you, do you really think I’m the best judge of that?”

  “It’s not like I can ask anyone else.”

  “You did mention tying each other up, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  She smacked his shoulder. “I’m serious here. You’re the only one who has ever wanted me like that.”

  Doubtful, but he wasn’t about to clue her in.

  “And you’re the only one I want that way.”

  He could only thank God for that.

  “Fisher, I want you so bad, sometimes it scares me.”

  “Darlin’, if it makes you feel better I don’t think we’re kinky, but I’m always open to suggestions.”

  She looked like she was about to say something else, but he cut her off with a kiss. He was determined to get her so hot and bothered, she’d be waiting to jump him as soon as he came home tomorrow.

  Jessie expected hot, wild, sweaty, monkey sex. She’d been writing hot sex scenes all day. Hell, for all she knew she might just have to market this book as romantica. Seth and Jenny, her hero and heroine, weren’t any better at keeping their hands off each other than she and Fisher were. And she liked it that way. But when Fisher kissed her so tenderly, she felt as if he reached right inside her and touched places she never even knew existed.

  He shed his clothes and her inhibitions. He sent her flying using nothing but his mouth and words. When he finally entered her, like a wrecking ball through a pane of glass, he shattered whatever reserve she’d had.

  “I love you, Jess.” His gaze held hers—strong, steady, hot.

  They moved as one, no one leading, no one following. They floated on a river of sensation. Fisher brought her higher, never releasing her from the prison of his gaze, filling her with feeling, so elemental, so strong, so intense, she never wanted the connection to end.

  He made love to her slowly, gently, and thoroughly. So deeply it took her breath away.

  She wanted to feel like this forever. “Oh God.” Fear slammed into her. She tore her gaze away and rolled, dragging him beneath her.

  “Just love me, Jess.”

  She kissed him to shut him up. She couldn’t love him, but she could blow his mind. And she did.

  Chapter 17

  Jessie picked up the package the FedEx guy dropped off the next morning. Deli food. Her heart sang, and her stomach growled. She dug for her phone and texted Fisher:

  Free 4 lunch? I have a surprise, but u have 2 come & get it ;)

  Sry, no time today :( Dinner?

  Sigh. OK :(

  Love u. B home by 7

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that? She tossed her phone back into her purse and decided it was a whole lot easier to write dialogue for her characters than it was for herself.

  She fixed herself a bagel and lox with schmear, put the food in the refrigerator, and distracted herself with Jenny and Seth’s problems instead of her own. Though really, the problems were similar. Of course, her fictional heroine believed in love, just not the fact she was lovable, something the hero seemed to have trouble grasping.

  Poor Jenny. Jessie sat at her computer and lost herself in her characters’ lives.

  Fisher had the day from hell. After he spent three hours in surgery putting
the broken bones of a tennis player’s hand and wrist back together, he stitched it up, casted it, and sent her to recovery. He dictated his notes and post-op orders, before going to speak with her parents—a conversation he dreaded.

  When the Stevenses saw him coming down the hall, Fisher pasted on an encouraging smile. “Alexa came through the surgery beautifully. She’s in recovery. You’ll be able to go in to see her in a few minutes.”

  Fisher raised an eyebrow when his patient’s father slash tennis coach crossed his arms and spread his feet, as if he was trying not to throttle him.

  “And her hand and wrist?”

  “There was a lot of damage. The surgery went well, but a lot depends upon how it heals and how Alexa does in physical therapy. Right now, I can only promise you that she’ll have a good range of motion and full use of her hand.”

  “What about her scholarship?” Mrs. Stevens asked. “Her career? Tennis is her life.”

  Fisher wondered if these people even knew their daughter. Every time he saw her, she talked about tennis, but she also talked about her love of forensics, and the way her practice negatively impacted her studies.

  Fisher wasn’t sure if Alexa would ever be able to play competitive tennis again. If she couldn’t, she’d be okay. She’d been a patient of his long enough for him to know there were a lot of things she could do other than hit a tennis ball. Her parents, on the other hand, seemed to have more invested in making her a pro than they had in doing what was best for their daughter.

  “Let’s concentrate on Alexa’s recovery and her therapy. I’ll see her in the morning when I do rounds, and she’ll be released by noon. I’d like to see her in my office next week. Just call for an appointment. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call the service. I’ll get right back to you.”

  Mr. Stevens looked at his wife and then back to Fisher. “When will we know when she can start training?”

  “We’ll do another set of X-rays at the office and see how she’s healing. We won’t know any more until then. For now, we need to keep her comfortable. I’ll give you prescriptions for pain meds. Keep her in bed and quiet, until I see her. I’d like her to move her fingers, but not use them. The therapist will see her before she leaves and tell you everything you need to know.”

  He went back to recovery alone because her parents wanted to have dinner. Fisher texted Jessica:

  Running late, B home as soon as I can.

  He looked up when he heard Alexa move. “Hey, you’re in recovery. How are you feeling?”

  He waved to the recovery nurse to come over to check Alexa’s vitals.

  “Thirsty.”

  “Okay, ice chips coming right up. I’ll be right back. You stay put.”

  She laughed, and he turned, almost running into the nurse bringing Alexa ice chips.

  Fisher spent the next half hour feeding ice chips to a sixteen-year-old and answering her questions about medical school, residency, and talking about Jessica and the way she used her athleticism in her work. Alexa reminded him a lot of Jessica. They had the same focus, determination, drive, and intensity. “There’s a lot you can do with sports, even if you’re not a star athlete you know.”

  Alexa looked down at her casted arm. “Is it that bad?”

  “Alexa, I’m going to give it to you straight. I really don’t know. Surgery went well, but there was a lot of damage. Let’s see how it heals and what happens with physical therapy. We’ll know more in a few weeks.” He brushed a tear off her cheek and squeezed her other hand. “I can promise you, you’ll have full use of your hand and good range of motion. You should be able to do anything you want.”

  “Yeah, just not play Centre Court at Wimbledon. My parents are going to be so pissed at me.”

  “Why? You fell during practice. It was a freak accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

  She nodded, but he doubted she believed him.

  “Dr. Kincaid, you don’t need to stay here with me. I’m good at being alone. I’m used to it. I really don’t mind.”

  “Na, I have no place important to be. I’ll just hang out with you until your folks get back. They ran out to get a bite to eat.”

  It was nine o’clock before he had Alexa settled in her room, and her parents finally returned. “I’ll see you in the morning, kiddo.” He gave Alexa’s foot a squeeze as he headed for the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, have a nice night.”

  Fisher drove home and hoped Jessica got his text. She hadn’t answered it, but then he hadn’t expected her to. He didn’t bother pulling the car into the garage. He just parked on the street and loped to the house. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  Jessica looked up from her computer. “I hope you didn’t eat because I waited for you.”

  “Good, I’m starving. I had an emergency surgery, and then I stayed with my patient until her parents could pull themselves away from their dinner.” He tossed his bags down and leaned over her chair. “I’m sorry, Jess. I just couldn’t leave a scared sixteen-year-old lying in recovery all alone.”

  Jessica set her computer aside and pulled him down for a kiss. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be fine. Her tennis career might be over, but I have no doubt she’ll be okay either way. She’s a great kid. Her parents, on the other hand… Shit Jess, I just don’t get some people.”

  “Do you want to go back to the hospital? I can pack you a sandwich.”

  “No, she’s on pain meds, so she’s probably already asleep. I made sure she was settled in her room, and her parents were back before I left. She’ll be fine until morning. I’ll see her on my rounds. So, what’s the surprise, or did I miss it?”

  “I made dinner.”

  “I thought you didn’t cook.” And from what little he’d seen, she couldn’t boil water.

  She rose and gave him a kiss. “God, Fisher, give me some credit, will you? I used the word ‘made’ loosely. You can wipe the look of horror off your face. You’ll like it, I promise.” She took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. “Mom sent a care package for us. She went all the way to Edison, New Jersey, to my favorite restaurant in the world: Harold’s New York Deli. Look at what she sent.”

  Jess opened the refrigerator and took out a foot-long package. “Harold’s triple decker sandwich—corned beef, pastrami, and brisket.” She passed it to him.

  “This is one sandwich? It’s got to weigh ten pounds. I’ve delivered babies smaller than this.”

  “A knish.” She took out a foil-wrapped sphere the size of a dinner plate and set it on the counter.

  “I’m starting to detect a trend here.”

  “And a bowl of matzo ball soup.” In a gallon bucket.

  He took the bucket from her. “You could feed my whole family with the food we have out, and we’re all pigs.”

  “And that’s just for starters.” She grabbed a bag and a bottle of mustard. “I almost called and invited your grandfather to join us—he’d love this, but I thought he might get in trouble. The sandwich alone has enough cholesterol to cause a heart attack. I hadn’t thought of inviting the rest of your family. Sharing only goes so far.”

  “Thank God. I’m really not into sharing you or the food with anyone.” He unwrapped the sandwich that would feed a dozen easily. It was literally a foot tall. “Darlin’, you can make me dinner anytime.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be mad?”

  “Because you always eat so healthy, and well, this is great, but you have to admit, it would topple over your personal food pyramid. Now with mine, as long as it’s balanced right, it sits just fine.”

  “I’m a believer in the eighty-twenty plan. Eighty percent of the time you eat healthy, and the other twenty is up for grabs. And right now, I can’t wait to get my hands on that sandwich. I just don’t know how to eat it.”

  “One bite at a time works for me.” She opened the bucket of soup and took a long sniff. “I’ve been dreaming about Harold’s since I stopped ther
e for breakfast on my way to Boise. Mom sent extra rye bread, mustard, two servings of every pickle from the pickle bar—”

  “They have a bar for pickles?”

  “What, you’ve never seen a pickle bar? What do you think? They come in only two varieties, Kosher and sweet?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “You’re in for a shock.” She scooted around him and grabbed a couple of bowls out of the cabinet. “We’re going to have to dissect the matzo ball—since you’re the surgeon, I’ll leave that to you. It’s the size of a bowling ball.”

  Fisher looked around his kitchen. There were bakery boxes tied with string they hadn’t even opened yet, and he’d seen other packages wrapped in butcher paper in the refrigerator. “I can’t believe this. There’s enough food here to last a week.”

  “Yeah, isn’t it great? Come on, let’s gorge.”

  And gorge they did. Jessica made a sandwich, piled high with the three different kinds of meat, and then proceeded to pull it apart with her fingers, dropping bits into her mouth.

  Fisher had never gotten a hard-on watching someone eat before, but then with Jessica, he seemed to spend his life half hard. He was so preoccupied with watching her that he barely tasted his sandwich. Thank God there were plenty of leftovers.

  The soup was great. He wasn’t sure what was in the spongy thing called a matzo ball, but it tasted amazing. And the knish—man, it was like a potato pie, with almost a phyllo dough crust that Jessica covered with mustard so grainy it cracked when he bit into it. Flavors exploded, and he was lost in what Jessica so aptly called multiple mouth orgasms.

  A half hour with Jessica erased a day full of emergencies and people like Alexa’s parents—and she hadn’t even complained about him being late.

  She swore she didn’t believe in love, but damned if she didn’t spread enough around to drown him in it. He sat back and watched her bite into a cookie the size of a saucer and groan.

  “You have to try this. It’s a black and white—my favorite cookie in the world.”