Lady Be Bad (9 page)

Her first view of the patient made her face
turn scarlet; she found herself gazing at his bare ass! "Excuse
me."

"Well, I'm all ready for you, nurse," his
deep voice intoned. He continued to inspect his newly bandaged arm
from his prone position on a gurney. "Those automatic nail guns
certainly have a mind of their own. That doctor did a nice job
getting those four brads out."

Receiving nothing but a guttural
acknowledgment, he turned his head. "Say, can you hurry this
penicillin shot up; I've got to get back and—" His brown eyes
suddenly narrowed. "You're not the nurse who was just in here."

Her wide-eyed inspection of his well-muscled
buttocks was interrupted when she shook her head and tapped her
name badge with a pen. "I'm not a nurse; I'm in admissions."

"Not...a...nurse . . ." His puckered
forehead lifted and smoothed with that discovery. "Jeezus . . .
lady!" His right arm jerked backward, hand groping for a white
sheet that was yanked to his waist. "Don't you treat your patients
with dignity in this joint? Since when am I a peep show!"

She took a deep breath and moved to stand in
front of him. "I've seen better peep shows," Marlayna lied coolly.
"Now, let's get you registered and then I'll be glad to leave you
and your dignity in the hands of the nursing staff."

With her pencil poised over the clip boarded
forms, she rapidly fired questions at him: "Name, address and
phone?"

"Noah Drake; eighty-nine Collins Street,
apartment two-oh-three; five, five, five, ninety-one, seventy."

"Age, doctor and employer?"

"Twenty-nine; Dr. Harper; Caldour
Construction."

"Medical insurance, the company and your
group and individual number?"

Coming up on his good right elbow, Noah
flung his bandaged left arm out for her inspection. "Listen, lady!
I just had four two-inch-long staples removed from this wrist,
which, I might add, aches like hell, and what do I get? Questions!"
He shook his head and shot a disgusted look at her. "Where's your
compassion? Where's your sympathy? Where's your –" "

"Insurance card," came her no-nonsense
reply. Marlayna gave him a sweet smile. "I've heard it all before,
Mr. Drake. Come on, the card? I don't have all day."

"It's in the back pocket of my jeans." His
thumb jerked toward the pants that were, along with his navy
briefs, draped across a nearby chair.

"May I?"

Noah's lips twisted in a sarcastic smile.
"Be my guest. What's a pocket between us? After all, you've already
seen what's in the pants."

Marlayna could feel his eyes gauge her every
movement, and when she bent over to retrieve his wallet, his low
wolf whistle again caused her color to come up. "That was really
quite unnecessary, Mr. Drake."

"What can I say?" He gave her his best grin.
"I'm a man who appreciates a well-curved female, although I'd
really love to appreciate that cute perky ass of yours in the same
condition that you appreciated mine."

She continued to copy the long string of
numbers that was on his insurance card. "Many men have tried, Mr.
Drake."

"And I get the feeling they have all
failed."

Marlayna snapped the wallet closed and
dropped it on top of his pants. "Could I have your signature at the
x's, please?" She balanced the clipboard on the edge of the gurney
and handed him her pen.

He peered at her left breast "Yes, Miss
O'Brian," and scrawled his name in the three spots. "What time do
you get off work?"

"Six o'clock. Why?"

Noah wagged the pen between his thumb and
index finger. "I'd like to continue appreciating you over dinner
for your service above and beyond the call of duty."

She plucked the pen free just as the nurse
returned to the room with a tray that contained a very large
needle. Marlayna stooped down so that guileless blue gray eyes were
on level with his laughing brown ones. "I just may let you, Mr.
Drake. Somehow, I think I'll be perfectly safe with a one-armed,
sore-assed man." Her wink came just seconds before his inhaled
shriek of pain.

A double knock on the door of the suite
abruptly invaded Marlayna's dream and brought her to a sitting
position. "Yes?" No answer, but the knock was repeated more
sharply. "Yes?" She called out loudly, but again no response.
"Well, I suppose a room with walls of granite and a wooden door two
feet thick is relatively soundproof!" She wriggled off the bed and
straightened her clothes, hoping that the caller wouldn't be Arthur
Kingman.

It wasn't.

The instant she opened the door, Noah Drake
stepped inside. Her blue-gray eyes meshed with warm brown ones, and
all her dreams and longings suddenly interlaced with her life.

"It is you." His cane thudded against the
carpet. Shaking hands cupped her face. "I wasn't sure." He visually
worshiped every feature. "I'm still not."

His left palm was warm against her cheek,
his fingers held captive by ebony curls. Ever so slowly, his right
hand began to move. Five trembling fingers caressed her skin,
reveling in the velvety softness of her complexion, moving along
the curve of her brow and ruffling the delicate sweep of dark
lashes.

"I didn't believe it." Noah's voice was
hoarse, strained, and unsure. His thumbs tenderly defined her
cheekbones and slid down to her chin before settling on either side
of her mouth. "I...I...am I dreaming?"

Questioning his sanity, Noah mapped the
slender sweep of her neck and pressed hard through the thin silk of
her blouse into her upper arms. His senses reeled with the
exhilarating discovery that, she did, indeed, exist and was right
here. "Mimi?"

Her eyes were riveted on his. "Yes,
Noah."

"Thank God." His whispered words of
gratitude caught her off guard; so did his tears and his kiss.

It seemed an eternity before his lips made
that most vital connection. His head turned and twisted, drawing
closer to hers. So frantic was he to make this first kiss say so
much. But the instant his lips touched hers, anxiety gave way to
sheer bliss. And for the first time in six years, Noah Drake felt
alive.

His kiss was everything Marlayna remembered
— and more. His lips were warm and wonderfully soft and sweet. She
reached up and caressed the stubbled curve of his jaw with her
knuckles. "Oh, Noah . . ."

His aggressive mouth consumed the rest of
her words. This kiss was alternately tender and dominating. Noah's
arms bonded her trembling body tightly against his. Her hands
traveled up his jacketed arms, slithered across his shoulders to
let her fingers filter through the dark hair that hugged his nape.
The thick strands moved like silk against her skin, the fresh clean
scent of him drugging her senses.

She gave up trying to think and let herself
be swept away by the sheer sorcery of his touch. His tongue gently
trespassed into the inviting depths of her mouth, savoring the
honeyed sweetness as his own life-giving nectar.

With a low moan, Marlayna pulled her mouth
free and brushed away her tears and then his with gentle
fingertips. "I'm not sure why I'm kissing you, Noah Drake." Her
tremulous voice tried to sound angry.

"Because you still love me."

"That's not good enough."

"Because I've always loved you."

Her hands fell away from his shoulders to
settle on her hips. "Is that why you divorced me? Is that why
you're engaged to another woman?" Her words sounded sharper,
harder. "Are you in love with Gwen Kingman?"

Noah's fingers bit tightly into the curve of
her waist. "Yes. I'm not. No."

She blinked and repeated his answer,
stuttering all the way. Marlayna cleared her throat and tried to be
coherent. "I'd like a clarification, Mr. Drake."

He hauled her closer. "And I'd like more
kisses at the very least, Mrs. Drake."

"Miss O'Brian," came her caustic correction.
"Your lawyer said you had insisted."

A shadow crossed his face and dulled his
eyes. "I did what I had to, Mimi. I never thought I'd be standing
and holding you ever again."

His enunciation of that word
standing
caused her immediate concern. "Noah, would you like to sit down and
--"

"Nope." He tilted her chin up. "This is what
I'd like to do." Again and again, he kissed her. Quick, hard
kisses. Lingering, gentle ones. He placed light butterfly kisses on
each closed eyelid, another on the tip of her nose and the small
indentation in her chin.

Noah's lips traveled along the sensitive
cord on her neck. "You still wear the same perfume, the one that
always made me a little crazy," he murmured huskily. He liberated
her blouse from the waistband of her white slacks and slid his
hands warmly over her back. "You feel so good, taste so good
..."

She was getting ready to make another
staunch protest, but his insistent mouth and tongue robbed her of
all rational thought. It's not really fair, Marlayna thought. He's
always been able to set me on fire. When she felt Noah shudder in
her arms, she knew that she had the same power over him.

Then she felt his hand move from her spine
to her breast, his skillful fingers trying to free the taut nipple
from its lacy prison. "Noah!" Marlayna wriggled from his grasp when
she felt his body harden beneath the thin covering of his swim
trunks. "You are an engaged man."

His lips twisted. "I suppose you want to
talk about all this right now."

"I want to know everything — then and
now."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I
guess we had better sit down. Could you hand me my cane?"

"Do you always need it?"

"Right now --" Noah slipped his left arm
around her waist while they walked to the pink-cushioned loveseat
"I feel I could pick you up and carry you to that bed. But I can't.
I never will. Does that bother you?"

Marlayna snuggled into the curve of his
body, her head resting on his shoulder, his fingers entwined with
hers. "No. I can't recall, you ever did pick me up and carry me any
place."

"I did too!" He returned defensively. "Right
across the threshold of our house when we got back from the
honeymoon."

"Oh, yeah." Then she whispered in his ear,
"but you complained about the ache in your back for three
days."

"That backache wasn't from lifting you." His
grin vanished. "And I wish my back and legs would ache for only
three days now."

She bit her lip. "How bad is it?"

"Some days like hell." Noah was quiet for a
long moment; he pressed his lips against her forehead. "How much
did you learn about my accident?"

"Nothing. Nobody would even talk to me. I
was crazy with worry and all I got was nothing and …"

"You got exactly what we decided to give
you. Nothing."

Her free hand spread across his bare thigh,
her fingernail tracing the wide scar that seemed to have no end. "I
want all the answers now." Marlayna stared into his eyes. "First
and most important, are you in love with Gwen Kingman?"

He shook his head.

"Then why are we all here celebrating your
engagement?"

"She's engaged to me. I'm not engaged to
her."

"You are not making any sense, Noah."

His lips curved. "I know. I know. God, it's
so damn complicated. I'm not sure this engagement can be
explained."

"You had better try." Marlayna sat up
straight against the cushions, arms crossed over her chest, and
waited.

Noah rubbed the tension from the back of his
neck. "As best as I can remember, it happened about ten weeks ago.
Gwen was here, helping finalize the decorating while I was
redesigning that damn boathouse. We were talking and I was drinking
and . . ." He swallowed and coughed. "And she asked me and. . . and
I guess ... I must have said yes."

"You guess?"

"Hell, I don't remember."

"How long have you known here?"

"Three and half months."

"Ever kiss her?"

"No." His response was quick. "I wouldn't
even have given her a second glance, except she reminded me of
you."

"Oh, Noah, that is so sweet." Her soft tone
was transformed into an interrogatory one. "Why would two people
who never even kissed get engaged?"

His head lowered, chin pressed into his
chest. "She's . . . she's in love with me. Built a fantasy out of
every kind word I've ever said and has convinced herself that
one-sided love is better than no love at all."

"Hmmm. . .well, I know Arthur is thrilled to
pieces over having you for a son-in-law."

"Yeah, there's that too," Noah agreed. "The
man's been good to me. Met me through an employee of his that I was
designing a house for and hired me to revamp this charming little
castle. Arthur Kingman's a powerful man and —" He stopped and
looked at Marlayna. "Say, how the hell do you know Arthur? And what
are you doing here anyway?"

"You mean you don't know about me and
Arthur?"

"You and Arthur?" He echoed in rage. "You
and Arthur!"

Marlayna stood up. "Now…it's not like that.
Although Arthur wishes it were." When anger further contorted
Noah's face, she hastened to explain: "Listen, I'm his --" Her
answer was interrupted by a knock on the door. Blue eyes locked
into brown. "You don't suppose that's him?"

"At your
bedroom
door?"

"Don't make it sound like mission
impossible," came her haughty rejoinder. "Quite a few men would
have liked to pound on my bedroom door over the past six years,
mister!" Marlayna drew herself up and calmly walked to the door.
Her body blocked the rest of the room from view. "Yes?"

"Excuse me, miss, I'm Perkins, the household
manager. I'm looking for Mr. Drake."

Her expression was insouciant. "And whatever
makes you think he's here?"

"Because Perkins told me where you were,"
Noah answered. "Let him in, Mimi." Reaching for his cane, he
struggled off the sofa. "Perkin's, this is my wife."