Doctor For Keeps. KRISTI GOLD
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of her life ruin her good mood.
While she sipped her soda, he continued to shuffle through the CDs. “If you can’t find what you’re looking for,” she said, “you could play for me again.”
“I found it,” he said, then inserted a CD in the player. The melodic strains of a folk guitarist filtered through the speakers, music as unfamiliar to Miranda as the concept of being with a strange man in a strange apartment. Both were oddly seductive.
“Who is that?” she asked.
Rick stood and came back to her. “His name is Mannie Marquez. He started out locally. I predict he’ll make it big soon.”
Miranda allowed her eyes to drift shut for a moment as she absorbed the haunting tune. When she opened them, she found Rick staring at her. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Yes, it is.” He reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Very beautiful.”
In all her imaginings, Miranda hadn’t prepared for this reality. She felt more courageous than she’d ever felt before. “Tell me something, Rick. Do you dance?”
Surprise crossed his expression. “Dance? As in here? Now?”
“Sure. Dancing is relatively innocent, don’t you think?”
He regarded her with a grin. “Relatively is the key word. If you intend to do the twist, that’s relatively benign. If you want to do the lambada, then that could be relatively dangerous.”
“Nothing like that,” Miranda said, surprised at how breathless she sounded. “Just your average slow dancing.”
He hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. “I’m game.” He took her drink, placed it on the mantel and offered his hand to her.
Miranda immediately regretted her request. Her last dance partner had been her daddy, before he’d been torn from her life ten years ago, leaving a big empty hole that she’d never been able to fill. She released a nervous laugh to mask her emotions and fear of inadequacy. “I hope you don’t expect much.”
He captured her again with his midnight eyes, intense and questioning. “I don’t expect anything, Randi. I promise.”
She started to tell him she’d meant in regard to her dancing skills. But suddenly words didn’t seem necessary, and she walked into his arms.
Two
He was easy to dance with. Easy to talk to. And darn sure easy to look at. They had a lot in common: watching baseball live, football on TV and stand-up comedy any time they had the opportunity. Although Miranda tried to learn more about Rick, he always managed to turn the conversation back to her life. He acted as though what she said mattered, something she could honestly appreciate. A long time had passed since she’d had someone to talk to. Someone who really listened.
She even liked his taste in music, Miranda realized as he selected another CD, this time a light jazz number filtered lazily through the speakers.
When he approached her again, she took a subtle glance at her watch. Lord, had she really been there for more than an hour? At the moment, she didn’t care about the time.
“That’s nice, too,” she said as he drew her back into his arms. “Another colleague of yours?”
“Colleague?” He looked startled, then smiled. “Oh, music’s only a hobby.”
He certainly fit her image of the consummate musician. “Then what do you do for a day job?”
His gaze slid away. “I work with kids.”
The man was almost too good to be true. “That’s wonderful. What exactly do you do?”
He finally looked at her through a veil of dark lashes most women would kill for. “Let’s not talk about work. Tonight we’re just Rick and Randi trying to forget about the daily grind and the fact that tomorrow’s Monday.” He touched her cheek. “Trying to forget about everything but right now.”
Up to that point, he’d kept a comfortable distance between them. Then, as if on cue, the tempo slowed and he drew her closer.
“Even though it’s not your standard dance floor, this isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked with a half smile.
No, in fact, it was good. Very good. “I’m surprised I haven’t taken out a couple of your toes.”
He searched her eyes as if trying to find more secrets. “Don’t sell yourself short, Randi. You’re a natural. That’s important in many things.”
Her breath caught at his comment. If he referred to lovemaking, unfortunately she had no experience along those lines.
As the song continued, then another, they gradually moved a little closer with each track until Miranda was flush against Rick, engulfed in his strong arms and his male essence. He bent his head and pressed a cheek against her ear. He radiated heat at the point where her breasts met the solid wall of his chest. Her blouse dampened there and she could also feel the dampness beneath her fingertips where they rested against his back. But the most notable heat came from deep within her body, pooling in places she had long since learned to ignore.
He slipped one arm underneath her hair at her nape and lifted it slightly away from her neck, then drew back and studied her face. The moment seemed to suspend, as the conversation had a while ago. She thought he might actually kiss her. She hoped he would.
Instead, he stopped moving. “It’s hot in here. I think the air conditioner’s on the fritz.”
Miranda’s whole being clutched with loss when he dropped his arms from around her and moved away. The mood was suddenly shattered. “Yes, it is a little warm.”
But he was gone just long enough to open the front windows, turn on the ceiling fan and turn off the overhead light, leaving only a small illumination coming from the kitchen.
“Is that better?” he asked, taking her back into his arms.
Miranda wasn’t sure how to answer. Yes, it took care of some of the external temperature problems, but the inferno still raged within her. “It’s more comfortable.”
“Good.” He brought her back against him.
Again they fell into an easy rhythm as they swayed in time to another easy song. She found herself holding on to Rick tighter, as if he might slip away as all good fantasies tended to do. His hands traveled lower and came to rest just below the spot where her hair met her waist. His touch was real, not imagined. Not a dream, although dreamlike.
Miranda’s pulse pounded in her ears when he brushed a kiss on her cheek. Her heart beat wildly out of control when he pressed the small of her back, bringing their hips closer together. She felt his bold arousal against her belly, and the air left her lungs.
Well, she was aroused, too. More than she ever imagined being. Her mouth went dry and she automatically licked her bottom lip. That seemed to capture his fascination. His gaze dropped to her mouth then came back to her eyes.
He softly said, “Miranda,” as if testing the sound, followed by a kiss on her forehead, her jaw, then a feather-light caress on her lips. He met her gaze again, his eyes full of questions, as if seeking permission to continue. She gave it, not through words, but by leaning forward until their mouths met with a hungry passion.
This is crazy, her mind shouted from somewhere far away, but she didn’t heed the warning. She was too lost in the heady feelings Rick roused with the stroking of his tongue in soft fluid movements between her parted lips, the taste of beer and need. She did hear a moan and realized it had come from her. The kiss ended almost as abruptly as it had begun.
Rick released a ragged breath and touched his forehead to hers. “Randi, you need to go.”
Had she done something wrong? Did he find her kisses lacking? “You want me to go?”
“No.