Costars (New York City Bad Boy Romance) (39 page)

“If this is just a big waste of time,
why’d you come?” I ask.

“I needed the scans,” he says. “I’m sure I
could have gotten them from Churchill, but I did think it would be in both of
our interests to be able to describe one another should such an unlikely
question arise during your clinical trial.”

This whole morning has been one big
mindfuck
of wasted time.

“Is there anything else, then?” I ask.

“Not really. I do want to tell you to just
not give too much information. Only answer the question they ask you, don’t
elaborate unless you need to and stick to your story. I really don’t think I’m
ever going to be contacted, but in case I am, Churchill gave me a rundown of
your faked history, so there shouldn’t be any problem.”

“All right,” I say and we start walking
back toward the parking lot.

“Do me a favor and try to make sure Jace
doesn’t lose perspective on what he’s doing,” Dr. Marcum says.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s always had a soft spot for people he
finds interesting, probably because they’re so few and far between. Whatever it
is about you, he thinks of you that way,” he says. “Unless he’s changed
drastically since I knew him in college, he will be willing to throw away his
livelihood just to make sure you get your chance at a better prognosis.”

“Isn’t that what he’s already doing?”

“In a way,” Dr. Marcum agrees, following
me through the parking lot toward my car. “But if it comes down to a choice
between you leaving the trial early and him losing his license, he’s more than
likely going to choose the latter. He’s a gifted doctor,” Dr. Marcum says. “It
would be a shame to see something like that happen to him.”

“Do you think that’s really going to
happen?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but Jace has always loved
being the hero to his friends, and especially the women in his life.”

We get to my car and I pop the trunk.

“You know,” I tell the doctor, “it did
seem a little weird that he had me put everything in a black briefcase, but
given the fact that the two of you wanted to pull your little spy crap on me,
it makes a little more sense now.”

I pull the briefcase out of the trunk and
hand it to the doctor.

“All right,” he says. “It’s been nice
meeting you.”

“Dr. Marcum?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“What’s the worst that could really happen
to Jace and me if someone finds out what’s going on?”

“I think you already know what your friend
is looking at,” he says. “I suspect the question you’re really trying to ask is
what could happen to
you
if you go
through with this.”

“I guess,” I say. “Jace and I never really
went over that.”

“I’d say worst case scenario, they’d kick
you out of the trial and disregard any of your results as you don’t fit the
trial criteria,” he says. “You’re really not the one taking the big risk here.”

I don’t know if he meant for that to
sting, but it does.

“Okay,” I say. “Thank you for helping us.”

“It’s always nice to have someone owe you
a favor,” Dr. Marcum says. “I only wish I could have gotten a video of your
reaction when you thought I was a paranoid loon. Really, it was quite
spectacular.”

“Well, thanks again,” I tell the doctor
and give him a smile.

“Before you go,” Dr. Marcum says, “could I
ask one thing of you?”

“What’s that?”

“Never mind,” he says and starts walking
away. “It’s really none of my business.”

“What?” I ask.

He stops and turns back to face me.
“Remember what I said about his soft spot. Churchill’s always been an idealist,
and that extends to the people in his life — the ones he finds interesting,
anyway. People like you, that is. He’s not an easy one to really know, but once
he lets you in, he has a tendency to leave himself open to all kinds of
disappointment.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“Just do me a favor and don’t lead him
on,” he says. “If you don’t feel about him the way he feels about you, don’t
pretend like you do. I’ve seen the poor young man hurt more by the people he
admires than by anything else. If it weren’t for his idealism, I’d dare say
he’d be bulletproof.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell the
doctor. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Really,” he says, “it’s nothing. Just
uploading a few things here and slipping a file with some notes and scans there
and my part in this is over. Just remember, don’t let
them
know what you’re doing or all will be lost!”

“Oh, will you get out of here?” I smirk.

“I just wanted to get one more of those
in,” he says and then he just walks away.

Well, that was easy enough, kind of.

I don’t know what Dr. Marcum thinks my
motivations are with Jace or what Jace might have told him about me outside of
my
oligodendroglioma
, but I’m getting the feeling
that something might actually happen here.

The question is, am I ready for it?

*
       
*
       
*

Jace asked me to meet him after I was done
with Dr. Marcum, but I think I’ll let him sweat for a while. After all, he was
apparently the brains behind the whole con at the restaurant.

In my mind, I’m trying to convince myself
that even if Jace and I were to start something, it’s not like we’re in a
serious relationship or anything.

The problem is, despite the fact that
we’ve only shared one interrupted kiss, with the time we’ve been spending
together and especially with his willingness to put his career on the line to
give me a shot at a better prognosis, if things do start happening, we’re kind
of going straight from zero to seventy-five miles per hour right out of the
gate.

I may have mixed a couple of metaphors
there.

Anyway, I’m not sure if I’m ready for that
kind of commitment.

Shit. And I was directly involved in
helping him leave his girlfriend.

Okay, maybe Dr. Marcum had a point. Still,
it’s early and nothing has really happened yet. Maybe we can find a way to
compartmentalize the other stuff and if things take a romantic turn, then we
can just see how it goes from there.

I finally give Jace a call and let him
know that I’m done with his mentor and ask him where he’d like to meet. He says
he can be to my apartment in twenty minutes, so that’s the plan.

Okay, I’m in my head about this and that’s
never a good thing for me. I tend to overthink things to the point that I lose
any ability I may otherwise have had to find the best course of action.

Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. I have
spent a fair share of my masturbatory time fantasizing about what it would be
like to have someone to wake up next to in the morning.

With that said, it’s been a while since
I’ve been in a serious relationship, and I’m not sure that I’d know what to do
with one if it fell in my lap.

I get back to my apartment before Jace
arrives, and I decide to just sit back and think things through before he gets
here.

I’m just sitting down when the knock falls
on my door. “Fucking hell,” I say under my breath.

I open the door and Jace walks in, saying,
“I hear you had quite the morning.”

“Yeah,” I answer. “I hear you had
something to do with that.”

“I suppose I did,” he says. “Well, I know
how much you were looking forward to some deep throat action-”

“Excuse me?” I interrupt.

“Deep throat,” he says. “You know, Mark
Felt, the Watergate scandal.”

“Oh,” I laugh.

It’s apparent when it dawns on him what I
was thinking, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“So, how’d it go?” he asks. “Did you get
him the briefcase and everything?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I think we’re good to
go.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “You’ll go
in for intake on Monday. They’re going to go over your medical history with
you, but that shouldn’t be too big a hassle if you don’t-”

Maybe it’s the wrong move, but I can’t
stop myself.

My arms are around him and I’m kissing him
the way he was kissing me. When I pull back, we’re both smiling.

“You know we’re breaking about a dozen
ethical codes of conduct,” he says.

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem to have been a
hurdle for you so far,” I tell him and kiss him again.

I’m kissing him again and unbuttoning his
shirt while he runs his fingers over my back. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,
but if anything, that just makes this moment all the more enticing.

I pull his shirt open and slip it down his
arms, kissing his muscular chest.

He’s warm against me, but I feel a chill
as he pulls my shirt up and over my head. Then, with a simple move of his
fingers, my bra is dangling from my elbows. I drop my hands and let it fall to
the ground.

I press myself against him, taking in his
warmth as he lowers his lips to mine again.

This is something I’ve wanted for a while
now, and with as much teasing as I’ve given him about it, he finally knows how
serious I am.

I reach down and unzip his pants and I
crouch, slipping his boxers down. I run my lips over the flared ridge of his
erection and run my tongue over the bottom of his shaft.

He lets out a slight gasp as I take him
into my hot mouth, and I’m reveling in the clean, if salty, taste of him.

I take my hand and jerk the base of him as
I coddle the rest of him with my mouth and tongue. He’s just as big as I’d
imagined he was, and I can feel his pulse between my lips.

“That’s it,” he says, “just like that.”

It’s good to know he appreciates what I’m
doing, but I’m hoping this doesn’t turn into one of those interminable
one-sided conversations where I’m just supposed to agree with everything he
says.

I don’t mind some dialogue; I’d just
prefer to have more than a yes or no part of it.

Fortunately, at the moment, he seems to be
content enough just to take in the sensation of my mouth as I take him a little
deeper.

It’s been a while, but my tried and true
technique comes back without effort, and I run my tongue along the underside of
his cock as I pull back. I switch hands and lift him a little as I slowly,
gently massage his sac with my tongue, taking each of his stones into my mouth,
one and then the other. My hand is running over his dick, and he’s shaking a
little as he stands with a single hand on my shoulder. I run my tongue from his
sack up his length and take him into my mouth once more, delighting in the
feeling of such an ovation as this.

Finally, I kiss his stomach and, as I rise
again to my feet, I kiss every inch of his abdomen and chest on my way up.

“So,” I say, putting my arms over his
shoulders.

“So,” he says back.

“Are you going to take my pants off and
stick that thing in me or what?” I ask, giving him the puppy dog eyes.

He chuckles. “I think I can do that.”

“I certainly hope so,” I tell him.
“Otherwise, this has been a lot of build up for nothing.”

He smiles and kisses me on my mouth, my
cheek, and then my neck.

His strong hands move tenderly down my
body and settle on the front of my pants.

He pops open the button and pulls down the
zipper, and I move my hips side to side to encourage my pants to fall.

In nothing but my customary thong now, I
give him a quick peck on the lips and grab his cock.

“You’re coming with me,” I tell him and
lead him by the shaft into my bedroom.

I didn’t make my bed this morning, but
that couldn’t matter less as I guide him forward until he’s standing, facing me
with his back to the mattress.

It only takes a moderate push for him to
fall backward and, before he has a chance to bounce, I’m on top of him, running
myself over him, feeling his throbbing member against my clit and over my
silent lips.

“If you’d be so kind as to reach into the
nightstand and open the box of condoms inside, we can get right to work,” I
tell him.

“Work?” he asks with a chortle.

“I have high expectations for you. Doctors
are supposed to know everything about physiology, right?”

“I don’t know if we know
everything
.”

“Well, let’s hope you know enough,” I tell
him. “Otherwise, don’t think I’m above kicking your ass to the curb wearing
nothing but a frown.”

“Sure,” he says, reaching for the condoms
in the nightstand, “no pressure there.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t seem too worried
about it as he pulls out the box, opens it, and hands me the condom, half a
smile on his face as if he knows something I don’t know.