The V-Spot Page 3

  She tilted her head. “You compliment every woman you come in contact with. It’s like you can’t help yourself.”

  Not every woman, but close. It made them feel good. He liked making people feel good. “With you I meant them.” Apparently his honestly didn’t impress her.

  “That’s it.” She turned away. “I’m leaving.”

  “No.” He reached for her arm. “Give me a chance to explain how this all came about.”

  She turned, very slowly, and looked up at him with interest, waiting.

  He cleared his throat feeling uncharacteristically nervous knowing whatever came out of his mouth would make or break their evening together. For some inexplicable reason tonight’s date with Emma mattered to him, more than any date he could recall. He wanted it to be a success. “About a month back I overheard you talking to Sadie at the Nurses’ station.”

  “Spying, were you?” she asked with a set of raised eyebrows and another head tilt.

  “Waiting,” he clarified. Truth be told it’d been more like lurking. Waiting he could have done anywhere, but he’d chosen to do it within earshot of Emma and her friend. “Sadie mentioned she’d narrowed down the candidates for your blind date. And you said...”

  She hesitated.

  He waited her out.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “I said, ‘Make sure he’s good-looking, sexy and can handle a big girl like me.’” She put her hands on her hips. “For your information, I was kidding when I said that. I never thought—”

  “What else?”

  She looked away and quietly added, “I want to spend my twenty-fifth birthday doing exciting things I’ve never done before.” She stared off into the distance as if remembering the conversation. Something flashed in her expression, a look of longing, or a hint of desire to set some part of herself free. He could relate.

  Brody stepped in front of her to regain her attention. “I saw my opportunity to take you out on a special date, and I took it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you. Because I wanted to be the one to make your birthday special. Because you work so hard and care so deeply for each of your patients and their families. They all love you. I figured if anyone deserved to have their birthday wish granted you did.”

  She stood there, watching him. So he went on. “When you left I pulled Sadie aside and told her to put me at the top of her list.”

  “And she did, easy as that?”

  He smiled. “If I’m to be totally honest, it took some convincing.” And sincere promises to make tonight Emma’s best night ever, to keep the specifics of their date private and to treat her heart with care.

  “Come here.” She motioned him forward. Two steps and she reached up to his right shoulder and tugged. “Bend down.”

  He did.

  She placed both of her hands on his head, moving it from side to side as she checked his ears. An impromptu health screening? When she finished he said, “That was random. What were you looking for?”

  “An earwig,” she said, straight-faced. “This situation has Cyrano de Bergerac written all over it.”

  And he lost it. “You know what? I am sick and tired of you thinking I’m some dumb wrestler incapable of coherent speech or being thoughtful without someone prompting me. While I’m not in the habit of bringing my resume on dates, I’ll have you know I hold a Bachelor of Science degree in exercise science. I’d just started on my master’s degree when my now agent came over to me at the gym and offered me the chance to make more money than I’d ever dreamed possible.”

  After discussing all the perks, which included an endless supply of hot, willing women, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get a then twenty-one-year-old Brody to drop out of school and join National Coast to Coast Wrestling Entertainment the very next day. “And I’ve granted the most Make-A-Wish requests of any wrestler in the NCCWE.” Every single one he’d received. “A total of forty-two visits to terminally ill children around the country, at my own expense. You’ve seen my visits to your hospital. I make similar visits in whatever city I happen to be in whenever it can be arranged. Does that make me good enough for someone like you, or do you need to hear more?”

  “Why the secrecy?” she countered. “Why not just ask me out on a date? Embarrassed at the thought of your friends seeing us together?”

  No. “So you think I should have come right out and asked you out on a date?” he asked. “How exactly should I have gone about it? Corner you in the crowded Nurses’ station? Maybe follow you into one of those little rooms? Staked out your car in the parking lot? And if I had, what would you have said?”

  Her guilty expression told him all he needed to know. “On the first day we met you took one look at me and judged me as unworthy of your time and attention,” he told her.

  “I did not,” she tried, but her words lacked conviction.

  “You saw my public persona and decided that’s all there was. There couldn’t possibly be more to me than my looks, my flirting with the fans and the physicality of wrestling.”

  She looked down at her pretty, bright red-painted toenails. “I’m sorry.” Then she tilted her head up. “So this isn’t some elaborate prank?”

  “No.”

  “You honestly wanted to take me on a date for my birthday?”

  He nodded. “I knew you wouldn’t go out with me if I went the traditional route.”

  She gifted him with her first smile of the evening. A small, almost shy one that didn’t last all that long, but it was something. “I’m having a hard time processing the fact I’m at a voyeur motel with The Bull.”

  “Brody,” he said, reaching out to cup her cheek, to finally feel her beautiful, soft, smooth skin. “When we’re together I’m a regular guy named Brody.”

  That gave her a laugh. “There is nothing ‘regular guy,’” she said, emphasizing “regular guy” with some air quotations, “about you. How many regular guys do you know who would take a woman to a voyeur motel on their first date? And plan to have sex afterward?”

  A lot actually. But, “Hold on.” He stopped her. “Your friend chose the location and terms of our date.” Which he’d happily accepted, but still.

  “Did you reserve our private motel room or did she?”

  “I did. So we wouldn’t have to drive home on those windy back roads late at night,” he explained. “And for your information I reserved two motel rooms, one for you and one for me.” So he didn’t come off presumptuous. So she didn’t feel pressured in any way. But if all went according to plan by the end of the night one room was all they’d need.

  “Oh.” She turned away, but not before he caught a glimpse of disappointment. “So you didn’t actually plan to...I mean...thank you for being so...considerate.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, moving so she had to look at him, so he could stare into her deep blue eyes when he made it clear. “The gentleman in me reserved two rooms, but over the next few hours I’m going to be at my charming best so you’ll invite me to spend the night in your room.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Give it your best shot.” She smiled, a true, big, happy, if maybe a little teasing, smile. “But I warn you. I came here for one night of anonymous sex with a stranger.” She shook her head. “How horrible does that sound? Regardless, the fact that I know you, that we have a working relationship of sorts, changes everything. It’s going to take some spectacular charming for you to separate me from my undies.”

  He smiled back. “Challenge accepted.”

  “Wait,” she said. “That wasn’t—”

  “Come on.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and led her to his car. “It’s starting to get dark. I want to change my clothes and grab a drink before they open the exhibitionist rooms to viewing.”

  “You’re going to change your clothes?�
�� she asked, as if jeans and black T-shirts were the only clothing he owned.

  “You really don’t think much of me if you think I’d show up on a date dressed like this.”

  “You did show up on a date dressed like that,” she pointed out.

  “I got stuck at a fan event that started late and ran long.” He hated to leave until every kid that’d waited in line to see him got a few minutes of his time. “I decided it’d be best to get up here as quick as I could rather than take the time to change.” They reached his car and he pulled out his suit sack.

  “Fancy,” she noted. “What have you got in there?”

  He slid her a half smile. “Something suitable for an off-duty doctor you’d be proud to call your fiancé.”

  He was starting to like making her blush.

  “About that...”

  “I already know. Angie apologized for the mix-up.” He winked. “And I’m all for a little role-play action.”

  “You kept me waiting, standing alone, for forty-five minutes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I had to say something so I didn’t come off looking like some pathetic loser who got stood up on her birthday.”

  “Which reminds me...” He bent and brushed his lips against hers. “Happy birthday. I’m looking forward to doing exciting things you’ve never done before.” He really was.

  Chapter Three

  Upon seeing her room, all the daring Emma had felt on the ride up almost deserted her.

  I can’t do this.

  “Yes, you can,” she told her reflection.

  Brody “The Bull” Bullock.

  His words, I’m looking forward to doing exciting things you’ve never done before, and the way he’d said them, his tone sensual, his voice eager, sent a wave of heat coursing through her veins. Thank goodness the wall air-conditioning unit effectively cooled her down or she may have melted right where she stood.

  Emma turned away from the mirror over the small dresser only to find herself looking into another one. They were everywhere. She looked up. “Good Lord.” Then down at the bed. The overlarge round bed with the crimson satin sheets and a matching spread.

  She glanced at her watch. It’d been fifteen minutes since Security had secreted her and Brody up the Staff Only stairs and around back to their side-by-side rooms on the second floor of a very typical-looking, two-story, white brick motel. The outside walkway overlooked miles of lush green forest rather than the parking lot and small VIP reception area, and both rooms had a connecting door.

  Hers unlocked, apparently, which she found out when Brody pushed in asking, “You decent?” as he stuck his head in without waiting for a reply.

  His short-sleeved, dark gray-and-black striped dress shirt left his muscular arms bare. Expertly tailored black slacks covered his legs, their cuffs meeting polished black dress shoes with tassels on them.

  The man was gorgeous. It took every bit of her concentration to form a scowl of displeasure at him entering her room without knocking as opposed to the lust-addled stupor her facial muscles had been poised to ease into.

  “Shucks,” he said, seeming unaware the plates of the earth had shifted beneath her feet, making her feel unsteady. Then he walked all the way in and handed her another vase of red roses from behind his back. “For you. Happy Birthday.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. “Again.”

  Man, he could kiss. Of course he’d been blessed with a perfect pair of soft, full lips. On top of that he excelled in knowing the exact amount of pressure and finesse necessary to leave her wanting. All too soon it ended and rather than embarrassing herself by going after him for more she forced herself to speak. “They’re beautiful. How did you?”

  “Put them down and come.” He held out his hand. “I ordered some special touches when I made the reservation. If things had gone as planned, I would have arrived first and arranged for you to be brought directly up to my room so our initial meeting would have taken place in private.”

  She placed the vase on the small coffee table by the window and allowed him to lead her into his room, an exact replica of hers. But in addition to the multiple mirrors and tacky bedding, he had a table covered in a white tablecloth with two chairs. Silver candlestick holders with red tapers. An assortment of glassware and utensils, and a silver bucket filled with ice, a bottle of champagne, a bottle of white wine and six bottles of beer.

  “Are you planning to get me drunk?” she asked.

  With an unrepentant grin he answered, “Drunk women find me spectacularly charming.”

  Oh her undies were in some serious peril.

  This is what he does, she reminded herself. The Bull was a charmer, a seducer, a lover of women, lots and lots of women, his reputation well covered in the media. “You would honestly fill me up with liquor so you could take advantage of my inebriated state to have sex with me?” She put as much distaste in her voice as she could while her traitorous body warmed to the idea.

  A knock on the door saved him from having to answer.

  He did anyway, over his shoulder as walked. “You’re the most sensible woman I know, Emma, hardly the type to get drunk and let someone take advantage of you.”

  His words, while true, stung. Nursing shoes with good support were sensible. An SUV with dual front and side impact air bags was sensible. Constant hand-washing to stop the spread of infection was sensible. Tonight, on her twenty-fifth birthday, for one night only, Emma didn’t want to be sensible. She wanted to go wild and try new things. But with a stranger, someone she’d never see again. Not Brody.

  Sex would make their future dealings at the hospital awkward and uncomfortable. What if he stopped coming around because of it? Then the children on the pediatric unit would miss out. Because of Emma. She couldn’t live with that.

  Angie’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Here you go.” Angie handed Brody a paper bag and a bakery box.

  “Thank you,” he responded, handing her a fifty dollar bill. “Everything is exactly as I requested.”

  “Thank you!” Angie said, taking her tip. She started to turn to leave then stopped. “I almost forgot.” She handed Brody a pamphlet. “Our new menu.” She smiled at Emma. “When you’re ready, if something catches your eye, dial zero and I’ll bring it right up.”

  With that Angie left.

  Brody gave the menu a quick glance then folded it, stuck it in the chest pocket of his shirt and carried the bag and the box to the table.

  “I hope whatever’s in that box is covered in chocolate,” she said. Tonight definitely called for chocolate. She could diet tomorrow. Knock off the t and she could also die tomorrow which is why she planned to indulge tonight. Of course that way of thinking had gotten her to some multiple-of-ten pounds over her ideal weight—which, according to her mother, was a weight a five-foot-tall anorexic would have trouble achieving.

  “Patience,” he said, opening the bag, taking out two deli-wrapped sandwiches and placing each on a plate. “Sorry this isn’t more glamorous. They don’t have room service here.”

  No room service. “Then what’s on the menu Angie gave you?”

  Brody stopped, looked to be trying to decide if he should show her.

  “Let me see.” She held out her hand palm up.

  He hesitated but eventually complied and Emma found herself holding a full-color, tri-fold pamphlet advertising sex toys.

  How exciting to be able to try... Then she remembered who she was here with. Damn it. Why couldn’t Sadie have set her up with an overweight yet adventurous accountant or dentist or computer programmer? Disappointment threatened to choke her.

  Brody was too experienced, too confident, in too good a shape.

  Emma wasn’t the slim, gorgeous, outgoing party girl type he favored.

  “Thi
s isn’t going to work. I should go.” She turned to leave.

  “Stop.” He took the pamphlet from her hands and tossed it on the bed. “Sit down.” With his hands on her shoulders he guided her to a chair. “Drink.” He pushed a bottle of water toward her.

  Funny, she didn’t remember seeing any bottled water.

  A plate with a turkey sandwich on a roll appeared on the table in front of her. “Eat.”

  If she tried, that bite would be her last, balling in her parched throat, blocking her airway, causing her death. Besides, now that she sensed chocolate in the room she’d kind of gotten fixated on it. Her mouth watered. Parched throat problem solved. The least she could do is stay for the cake...since he’d gone to so much trouble. She reached for the box.

  “Having dessert first will make you feel better? If that’s what it takes.” He picked up the box, grabbed a plate and, stopping by his suit sack to retrieve something on his way, walked into the bathroom.

  This was her chance. To leave. To make a clean getaway and put this night behind her.

  But the cake!

  To heck with cake. She started to stand—

  “Don’t even think about leaving,” he called out.

  Darn mirrors.

  A few seconds later she was glad he’d stopped her. Because he exited the bathroom carrying a rich, delicious-looking little chocolate cake with a lit “25” birthday candle in the center, and he was singing “Happy Birthday.”

  So thoughtful and sweet, words she’d never thought she’d ever associate with Brody “The Bull’ Bullock.

  * * *

  If Brody hadn’t witnessed the transformation firsthand, he might not have believed chocolate cake could have such a profoundly positive impact on a person. From nothing more than a visual connection, the color returned to Emma’s cheeks, her whole demeanor brightened and she seemed to rejuvenate right before his eyes, as if the past few minutes of indecision about staying had never happened.

  A phenomenon he’d be smart to remember for future reference.