Deep Night (15 page)

“Me neither. You were just that annoying boy next door.”

“Funny how things…and people…change,” he mused.

Without warning, a heavy body landed on top of both of them and a big, wet tongue licked her face, then Chris's.

“Holy shit, Riley!” Chris exclaimed, and he pushed the dog off the bed.

Sara giggled. “He must have thought we were fighting or being attacked.”

Chris's sensuous lips curved into an intimate smile. “He couldn't have been more wrong.”

“He probably needs a potty walk.”

Chris fell back against the pillow. “I don't think I have enough energy right this minute.”

She glanced down at Riley, who was sitting by the bed, watching them intently with a look she already recognized as,
“I really need to go.”

“I think he's serious.”

Chris leaned over and surprised her with a kiss. “I don't want to leave you.”

“What if I fix us some bacon and eggs while you're gone?”

“Hmm…tempting.”

She gave him a gentle shove. “Go take Riley out. I don't know about you, but I'm starving.”

Reluctantly, he climbed over her and pulled on his shorts and a T-shirt. Without bothering with shoes, he gave her a smile and a wink as he left the room, stopping briefly in the bathroom on his way out of the apartment.

For just a moment, Sara remained on his rumpled covers. What had just happened? In the sanity of post-orgasm, a thousand thoughts tumbled through her mind. She'd never imagined she would want to make love to anyone, much less enjoy it as much as she had. It was difficult to regret anything that felt so right.

She was humming as she got out of bed, got cleaned up in the bathroom and pulled on a tank top and shorts…without underwear. She was feeling sexy and risqué as she got the bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator and popped some bread into the toaster.

This was not at all how she'd expected this day to go. What woman hadn't fantasized about sleeping with her teenage crush? Actually, it wasn't the actual sex act she wanted so much as the closeness. For years she had spent almost every day with him. They'd known each other really well, and there had been a big hole in her life when he dropped out.

She wasn't quite sure how to deal with Chris now that he was back. Working with him had sort of leveled the playing field, especially because of the role reversal with her as his boss. But on a personal side, making the leap from friends to lovers was confusing. He had no idea what a monumental moment it had been for her to be touched or even to be naked with a man. It might not be unusual to him, but it was a huge deal to her. Although she had to admit that it felt amazing. It was the first time she truly understood the phrase “friends with benefits.”

This roommate thing might not be so bad after all.

Riley took his time wandering around the courtyard, stopping often to sniff the strange smells of his new environment.

“Come on, buddy, can you hurry it up?” The leash was an adjustable reel, so Chris could stand in one place and the dog could pull the leash out for twenty-five feet before reaching the end.

Riley looked up, wagged his tail, then continued his exploration.

Chris knew it was impossible to make the dog do anything before he was ready, so he found the closest bench and sat. The sun beamed down, and he leaned back so it would shine on his face. The Deep Night shift really messed with your brain. Working all night, having mind-blowing sex all day…okay, so that wasn't a bad thing. Actually, it had been pretty damn awesome.

He had a pang of guilt for moving straight from extreme grief from losing one friend to making love with another. If his time in the military and as a medic had taught him one thing, it was to embrace life because it could end in the blink of an eye. And it wasn't as though he'd planned it. In fact, no one, except maybe Sara, could have been more surprised.

Now that he had time to think about it, the whole scenario became more confusing. Several days ago, she had recoiled from his touch as if he were a rattlesnake. And yet today, she had more than tolerated their lovemaking…she had encouraged it. What was different about this time?

It started with her comforting him. Outside of his family, Miller's death hit him a lot harder than anyone else's. In reality, they hadn't been that close when they were in-country. Chris had checked on the man when he was in the base hospital before being flown back to the States. Back then Chris checked in on all the injured soldiers. He spent a lot of time in the hospital when he wasn't out in the field, because he enjoyed observing the doctors and talking to the patients. It was then that he realized he wanted to go to med school.

As often happens with chance reunions, Chris and Miller's bond had been magnified well over the reality of their relationship. Their shared history in Afghanistan, the painful memories of battle and war wounds and the fact that he knew no one else in the area had caused Miller to cling to Chris. And, he had to admit, Chris had enjoyed hanging out with Miller and the other guys at the VA. That was a part of his life that his family didn't share…and didn't really understand. It took someone who had been in the trenches to know how it felt and how deep the memories were buried. For some men, the scars hovered pretty close to the surface, which affected them almost daily. For others, like Chris, they were filed away. Never forgotten, but not bubbling on top where they could pop up at any time.

The fact that their friendship had meant so much to Miller and yet Chris hadn't even known the man's first name triggered a delayed reaction, reminding him of all the other men and women he hadn't been able to save. Realistically, he knew it was impossible to save them all. But that didn't keep him from regretting each and every one…and, of course, second-guessing himself by wondering if there was something he could have done differently or one more action he could have taken that would have saved them.

Of course, Miller's suicide wasn't Chris's fault. If the man was determined to take his life, he would have, sooner or later. But at that moment, Miller embodied every lost soul. When combined with the profound sadness of not thinking your life was worth living for even a minute longer, it hit Chris hard.

Which brought him back to Sara and her unusual behavior. She wasn't a touchy-feely person. Some women were huggers or touchers. Sara had never struck him as being one of those. He had been a kid, of course, and he hadn't really noticed how she and her parents interacted. His own parents hadn't been disgustingly demonstrative in front of the boys, but they hugged and kissed and even after thirty-five years of marriage, still held hands.

It suddenly occurred to him that she felt sorry for him. She thought he was in such bad shape that he needed consoling, and it ended in sex.
Shit!
It had been a pity fuck!

Chris stood abruptly and pushed the button on the leash's reel, tightening the slack. “Let's go, Riley.”

The dog sensed the man's change of attitude and immediately returned to his side. Completely distracted by the disturbing thought that the great sex had been a result of Sara feeling sorry for him, Chris didn't see the broken beer bottle until he stepped down and felt the jagged glass dig into his sole. He hopped inside the elevator, leaned up against the wall, then lifted and twisted his foot until he saw the bottom of the bottle lodged in the ball of his foot. As soon as he pulled it out, the blood gushed.

Chris looked around. There wasn't even a small piece of paper he could use. He pulled a clean doggy-doody bag out of the package on the leash and pulled it over his foot. It wasn't large enough to cover his whole foot, but it covered enough that it would protect the wound from the billions of germs that must be on the floor. Not to mention keep the blood from spotting the hall carpet.

He half walked and half hobbled, using just the heel of his right foot to get to the apartment. He fumbled with the key, but finally got the door open and unclipped Riley's leash.

“Hey, I need you to look at this,” he said to Sara.

She was standing in front of the stove with her back to him. Her hair was still tousled, and she looked sexy as hell with the thin cotton of her shirt clinging to her boobs and her short-shorts showing off her slender legs.

“Look at what?” she asked, partially turning around to smile at him. As soon as she saw him leaning against the wall and holding the bloody bag around his foot, she dropped the spatula, turned off the burners and hurried over to him. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Someone broke a beer bottle downstairs, and I didn't notice it when I was getting on the elevator.”

“How long has it been since you had a tetanus shot?” She led the way into the bathroom and put a folded towel on the side of the tub for him to sit on.

“When I was in basic training, so a little over four years ago.”

“That's good. But we've got to get this cleaned out so it won't get infected.” She looked up at him apologetically. “Sorry. Of course you already know that. Why don't you wash it so we can see if you need stitches?”

They worked together to thoroughly clean the wound and reached a mutual decision that it wasn't deep enough for stitches. Sara doused it in peroxide, followed by a layer of Neosporin, pulled it closed with several butterfly bandages and wrapped it with gauze.

“You should take some antibiotics,” she suggested, then grimaced. “Oops, there I go again.”

He grinned. “You'll make a good doctor.”

“Yeah, so will you.” She rinsed the blood out of the tub and threw the plastic bag and the paper from the bandage and gauze in the garbage. “Breakfast is almost ready. It'll take me just a minute to finish it up.” She went to the kitchen sink and washed her hands.

Chris sat on a stool on the other side of the bar and watched her. “I'd help, but…”

“Just sit still and elevate your foot…” Her voice trailed off and she gave him a guilty look, then busied herself with finishing the bacon.

He already had his foot propped up on the other bar stool and was trying to ignore the throbbing pain. She had already put plates and silverware out, so he really didn't have an excuse to be macho. So, as she bustled around, his gaze followed her while his brain tried to sort through his confusion. What he really wanted to do was ask her why she had crawled into bed with him. Yet he wasn't sure he wanted to sacrifice the mood for an answer that might make him feel shitty. It could wait until later. But sooner or later he had to know the truth.

Breakfast in the afternoon was pretty common for people working night shifts. But by the time Chris and Sara had finished eating, the long, difficult morning had caught up with them. He hobbled to the sink, carrying the empty plates while Sara put the butter and jelly back in the refrigerator and wiped off the surface of the bar.

“I'll get those later,” she told him, her last word cut off by a barely stifled yawn.

“Want to watch television? The evening news is about to start.” The subject he most wanted to talk about hadn't come up as they ate. And now, he didn't want to go to bed without knowing. If she'd had sex with him because she felt sorry for him, then it would probably be a one-time thing. Even worse, that would indicate it meant nothing to her emotionally. It had just been her way to comfort him in his time of grief.

“Nah, it's hours past my bedtime.” She stretched her arms over her head, unwittingly tightening the T-shirt over her breasts, which, by the way her nipples pushed against the thin cotton, showed that she wasn't wearing a bra.

In spite of his concern over her motives, his pulse quickened, and he felt his cock swell in his shorts. What was it about her, even though she wasn't consciously flirting or trying to drive him crazy, that made him act like a horny teenager?

“ 'Night,” she called over her shoulder before going to her room and shutting the door. Chris just stared at the closed door.

What the hell had just happened?

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection without really seeing it. Sara had acted with the same level of friendly indifference as she had before their tumble in the bedroom. Had he just imagined it?
Jeez,
was he losing his mind?

He flipped off the light and hobbled into his bedroom. The sheets had been straightened and the covers pulled up. Even his discarded towel had been hung over the back of his chair. It was not at all the way he had left it.
Damn,
had she done this in an attempt to completely wipe out any evidence that they'd screwed?

For some reason, that thought made him angry. One part of his brain reminded him that he'd just gotten his rocks off with a hot woman, and he should just forget about her motives. Did it really matter? It wasn't like they were in a relationship or that it meant anything to either of them.

But the other part obnoxiously nagged that she wasn't some bimbo he'd picked up in a bar. She was an old friend and his boss. Sex would complicate everything. Which was probably why she was pretending that it hadn't happened. Now he felt confused and guilty. Had he somehow forced her to go beyond her boundaries? Was she sorry for what had happened? Was she ashamed? Or was she angry and resentful?

Shit!
He couldn't sleep with all that hanging over his head. He spun on his heel and winced with pain. It was going to be difficult to storm into her room when he had to hop on one foot. Maybe it would be better to just knock and see if she invited him in. Yeah, he didn't want to come off all caveman. She was skittish enough.

His determination faltered when he reached her door and heard her sound machine was at high tide.
Damn,
she was probably already asleep. Clearly, nothing about today was bothering her. With his hand on the doorframe, he leaned forward until his forehead was resting on her door.

God,
when had he become such a pussy, letting himself get all spun up by a woman? This wasn't who he was. Women didn't distract him. His relationships had always been brief and mutually satisfactory. He didn't use the women, but he didn't agonize over their feelings, either. Why, then, was he blowing hooking up with an old friend all out of proportion? It was just sex. No strings…no commitments…no explanations. It just happened and would probably never happen again. She seemed pretty determined to dismiss it.

Which was exactly what he should do. She certainly wasn't losing any sleep over it, which right now seemed like a pretty solid plan. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his head and returned to his bedroom.

On the other side of the door Sara stood with one hand on the knob. The thought of Chris lying in his bed was pulling her like a magnet. She had avoided romantic movies and books because she didn't believe love was real. Her experience with men was something she preferred to forget rather than to repeat.

But then, she had never been kissed like Chris had kissed her. She had never been held in arms so strong and yet so gentle. It wasn't the first time she'd had sex, but it was definitely the first time she'd made love. Even now, the thought of his mouth on her breasts and his hands on her bare skin sent a heated flood of desire rolling through her. She hadn't wanted that moment of intimacy to end. Her purely physical reaction to his touch had surprised her. She hated personal contact, and yet here she was, wishing she were still lying on his bed, snuggled up next to him.

However, that very passion he'd ignited frightened her because it was a new experience, one that she had no idea how to manage. Was she reading too much into what was a normal event for him? Men had sex all the time with lots of different partners…or so she'd heard. Because it had been special for her didn't mean it had been memorable for him. Oh sure, he'd enjoyed it. But in her line of work, she'd seen men who were screwing their vacuum cleaners and got their penises stuck in the hoses. That didn't exactly inspire her confidence in men's judgment when it came to sex. If they would do it with inanimate objects, having sex with a woman was a step up.

Which did nothing to make her feel more self-confident about his feelings about her. Being lifelong friends worked both for her and against her. He knew her too well. For him, there was probably no challenge, especially now that he'd slept with her.

Sara lifted her hand off of the doorknob. She'd been tempted to enter his room and crawl into bed with him, just to feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers. But she had more pride than that. The last thing she wanted was to force him into an awkward relationship that would have no good ending.

With a resigned sigh, she walked to her bed and crawled under the covers. It may have meant nothing to him, but their afternoon delight would be a memory she would cherish for the rest of her life.

The sun was shining brightly through the living room windows when Chris finally stumbled out of his room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than twelve hours straight. Instead of feeling better, he felt groggy and disoriented. He raked his fingers through his hair, halfheartedly trying to tame the wild strands that were sticking out in all directions. After a trip to the bathroom, where even a splash of cold water didn't wake him up, he limped into the kitchen and filled a bowl with cereal and milk, then collapsed on the couch. A talk show was on the TV, so he knew Sara couldn't be far away. Her open bedroom door told him she was awake, but that wasn't a surprise. She had probably gotten up well before midnight. She rarely slept more than four or five hours.

He looked around again and realized that Riley was also missing. Even in his foggy state of mind, he was able to figure out that she must be walking the dog. His throbbing foot reminded him that it was good Riley had a backup person because Chris wasn't up for any long walks for the next couple of days. Thank goodness he didn't have to go back to work until Wednesday night. He should be in better shape by then.

The front door opened, and Riley and Sara came in with a flurry of noise and energy. The dog spotted Chris first and trotted over to him and greeted him with a polite nudge on his hand, prompting a pat. Chris complied and gave the shiny black dog a vigorous ear rub.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Sara said as she hung the leash on the hook and shut the door. “I actually checked on you twice, thinking you might have died.”

Chris ran his hand over his scratchy growth of whiskers. “I must have been tired. I don't think I even rolled over.”

“Your broken bottle was still in the lobby. I tossed it out before someone else gets hurt.”

“Thanks. I meant to go back and get it.”

“You had a good excuse. You really shouldn't walk on it any more than you have to so you won't keep tearing it apart.”

The sound of a phone ringing came from his bedroom. Chris struggled to get to his feet, but Sara was closer, so she stepped into his room and came out with his phone and handed it to him. The ringing had stopped, but he looked at the missed call.

“Oh no, it was my mom,” Chris groaned.

Sara's expression showed her concern. “Is something wrong?”

“I forgot that I promised her I'd spread mulch in her flower beds today.” He collapsed back on the couch. “I guess I'll see if she can put it off a week.”

“If I know your mother, she'll be out there trying to move it all by herself.”

Chris considered his options. Sara was absolutely right. If his mother had planned to get that mulch moved today, then she would have mapped out the delivery and distribution with the precision of D-Day. If none of her boys showed up to help, then she and his dad would be out there, working until it was finished or one of them threw their back out or died of a heart attack. “Dang, I've got to go.” He looked down at his foot. It had bled through the gauze. “I'll just rewrap this, and then take off.”

Sara's frown reflected her disapproval, but she didn't try to talk him out of it. Instead, she got the first aid supplies out of the medicine cabinet. Shooing away his hands, she snipped the sides of the wrap, then gently peeled it off, being careful not to open the wound. “It's looking better,” she observed. She took out a waterproof bandage, and after adding a fresh coat of Neosporin, she taped it up, then rewrapped it in gauze.

“Thanks.” He gave her a grateful smile. He could have done it himself, but she did it so much better. Men had a tendency to sacrifice neatness for speed. It was definitely one of the skills he needed to work on. He stood and crossed the room, dropping his bowl and spoon in the sink before going to his room to get dressed. Minutes later when he came back out, Sara, dressed in cutoffs and a tank top, looked cute as hell as she stood by the door with the leash attached to Riley's collar. “Another walk already?” Chris asked.

“Nope. We're going with you. Riley told me he wanted to spend the day in the country, and I could use the fresh air. Do you mind if we tag along?”

A genuine smile curved his lips. “Mom will probably put you to work,” he warned.

“I haven't been to the gym lately. It'll be good for me.”

She drove so he could rest his foot. In normal traffic, it took a little more than thirty minutes, so it was almost noon by the time they arrived at his parents' house. As expected, his mother was hard at work, pushing a mounded wheelbarrow across the driveway. She stopped as soon as they turned in and parked.

Pat pulled a wide-brimmed straw hat off and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I see you brought a helper.” Her smile welcomed Sara without question.

“Sucker!” Chris poked Sara in the ribs with his elbow. “See, I told you.”

Sara ignored him and gave Pat a hug.

“And who's this?” Pat asked, bending down to let the dog sniff her hand before she patted his broad head.

“Riley,” Chris answered. “We sort of inherited him from a friend.”

“He's beautiful.” Pat scratched his ears, immediately becoming a friend for life.

“Where do you want this?” Sara asked as she picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow.

Pat pointed out all the flower beds that needed mulch, and Sara trotted off toward the farthest one with Riley tagging along behind.

Chris eyed the six-foot-tall pile of red cedar mulch and snorted. “She'd better pace herself. Do you have another wheelbarrow?”

“Of course I do.” Pat headed to the garage and rolled out another big yellow wheelbarrow.

Chris dug a shovel into the pile and started filling the wheelbarrow. Just as he finished, Sara returned with the empty one. As he started to head out, she stopped him.

“I'll do the deliveries while you fill them up,” she offered.

“I can do it.”

“Do you want me to tell your mother that you're injured?” One sandy eyebrow arched as she challenged him.

“Fine,” he muttered. She'd called his bluff, because the last thing he wanted to admit to his mother was that he had cut his foot. Before he could explain, she would have him on a couch with his foot elevated on a stack of pillows, with a thermometer in his mouth and a cool washcloth on his forehead. Pat took her motherhood seriously. Besides, he knew that after a few loads, Sara would be more than willing to let him take his turn.

Before Sara wore down, Pat brought out a pitcher of fresh lemonade and chocolate chip cookies that were still warm from the oven. “I thought you kids could use a break,” she told them, and set everything down on a small table in the shade.

Sara sprawled on a chair and used a napkin to wipe the sweat and dirt off her face and neck. She gratefully downed a glass of cold liquid and poured herself another one.

“It's looking better already,” Pat commented. While she looked at the half dozen flower beds that had been mulched, Chris and Sara glared at the formidable mound of cedar bark that was still piled on the driveway. “So, how is it working out?”

“How's what working out?” With so many things going on in his life, Chris had no idea what she was talking about.

“The whole roommate thing.” Pat picked up a cookie and took a bite. “Working together. Living together. Is that too much togetherness?” The older woman gave them an amused look and wiggled her eyebrows. “Or is it just enough?”

“Mom!” Chris had witnessed his mother embarrassing his brothers when they brought girls home, but he had never actually been the brunt of it. He didn't dare sneak a glance at Sara for fear one of them would blush and reveal too much, too soon, to his eagle-eyed mother. “Sara's my boss.”