Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (87 page)

“Oh God, yes. Always.”

“Safe word?” he asked.

Without hesitation, she replied, “kickass”. His woman might be fragile. She might even be broken. But she was not down for the count by any stretch of the imagination.

Multiple award-winning author TJ Michaels' book,
Juicy
, is the first book in her decadent new trilogy,
Twilight Teahouse
. Coming soon will be the second and third books,
Luscious
and
Succulent
. To see what TJ is up to, visit her website at
http://www.tjmichaels.com
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NO LIMITS

NO LIMITS

Kate Pearce

Copyright © 2014 by Kate Pearce

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

KatePearce.com

Chapter One

“Doc, can you come out here?”

I took out my ear buds and glanced over at the door where Lopez, my charge nurse was standing. I heard raised voices behind him. Not that unusual, even in our small ER, but loud enough for me to note a non-American distinctly
Downton Abbey
kind of accent. Whoever it belonged to wasn’t making all the noise, but despite the lack of shouting, his voice carried a note of command that shut everyone else down.

“What’s up?” I wrapped up my half-eaten sandwich, wrote my name on the bag and put it back in the staff refrigerator, probably never to be seen again.

“This guy brought a woman in. She’s bleeding from several blows to the face.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Adjudicate?”

I sighed and got up. All those expensive years at medical school, all that debt, and I really needed to know was three things--how to spot the crazies, how to defend myself, and how to patch up people who weren’t grateful for my efforts in the slightest.

As we talked, we approached the small group of people blocking one of the exits. A student doctor dabbed at the blood dripping from the patient’s face while a hospital administrator faced off with a tall man.

“What’s going on?”

Everyone turned toward me and opened their mouths. The administrator got in quickest.

“This gentleman doesn’t seem to understand that I need some details from him before I can process this patient.”

“
Process
her? What happened to treating an individual medically before you start trying to extract payment for your services? What century are we in?”

My gaze swung around to the man with the withering British accent. He was dressed in an immaculate dark suit that fitted him to perfection. His tie was blue silk and his white shirt starched. But that wasn’t really what I noticed first. It was his eyes, which were the cold gray-blue of the Atlantic Ocean.

Nice.

“Dr. Reed, will you explain to this man that I need to get the patient’s insurance details? It’s standard procedure.” The administrator butted in again. God, they were tough, and the main reason why our non-profit hospital was treading water and still treating patients.

I turned my attention to the hysterically weeping woman. “Do you have health insurance?”

She shook her head and continued crying, her tears adding to the stream of blood coming from her nose and the cut on her cheek. I looked at the man standing beside her. How on earth had they met? Had he picked up a prostitute and let her have the brunt of his temper? I knew that a beautiful face could hide a monster just as well as any other.

I looked him straight in the eye. “We are obliged to treat everyone who comes through our doors, but we do have the right to inquire as to whether the patient has health insurance so that we can send the bill to the correct place.”

His expression didn’t change. “As I said, barbaric.” He slid his hand into his jacket pocket and for a second I tensed before he withdrew his wallet. “I’ll pay for anything that needs doing. Just get her sorted out as soon as possible.”

Wow, guilty much? Did he hope that money would smooth over whatever shit he’d done? He had the look of a man who assumed he could buy his way out of anything. I nodded at Lopez.

“Take her through.”

“Thanks, Dr. Reed.”

I gave the besuited one my best professional smile. “Would you like to fill out the paperwork while you wait for your wife?”

He glared down at me. “She’s not my wife.”

I shrugged. “Girlfriend, partner, significant other, or maybe you’re her pimp? Take your pick?”

He went very still. “Do I look like a pimp?”

I just stared at him.

His gaze went chilly. “What a very vivid imagination you have, Doctor.”

“You’re the one willing to pay to fix her up. It doesn’t sound like the action of an innocent man.”

Now he just looked bored. “She’s an employee of mine. She turned up to work like this after an altercation in the car park.”

What the hell was a car park
?

I didn’t bother to ask for clarification. I’d heard every excuse under the sun. Luckily for him, I’d lost my heart and my burning desire to right wrongs years ago.

“So you say.”

“Trust me, Dr. Reed, if I wanted to hurt a woman I’d take a lot more care than that.”

“You like hurting women?”

His smile burned through me. “Only when they ask nicely.”

I was the first to look away. “Ms. Mobley will take care of you.”

He finally walked away with the administrator. I took a moment to scan the rest of the occupants of the waiting room. It was Wednesday evening, and we weren’t that busy. There was nobody actively dying out there, so I made my way to cubicle five where one of the newbie students was busy assessing our latest patient.

Between sobs she managed to state that her name was Rita and that her boyfriend Dave had met her in the parking lot outside her place of work and tried to extract her wage packet from her purse. She’d tried to fight him off, so he hit her.

When she was all cleaned up, I crouched in front of her, checking my student’s assessment of her injuries and focusing on the state of her pupils.

“Did you hit your head when you fell?”

She grimaced. “I’m not sure. I do have a hell of a headache, though.”

I glanced over at the student. “Make sure you do a scan before you release her, okay?” If the Brit was paying she might as well have the best. I turned back to the woman and lowered my voice. “I have information about battered women’s shelters and helplines if you want to leave this man.”

“Why would I do that?” Her bruised lip trembled. “It’s not his fault, really. I make him mad. He always says sorry afterward.”

I held her gaze. “If you ever change your mind, there are places that will help you, just remember that.”

“Sure.”

I smiled and stood up. “Then make yourself comfortable and we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can, okay?”

The female student followed me out and down the hallway practically skipping to keep up.

“Dr. Reed? Can’t we do anything? How can she think he loves her when he beats the crap out of her?”

I heard the sense of outrage I’d lost and felt old, cynical and weary. I was so tired of having to toughen up the newbies. The older I got, the more delicate they seemed to be. “We’re not here to tell patients how to live their lives, just to patch them up and send them back out to live another day.”

Indignation flashed in her dark brown eyes. “But—“

I patted her shoulder. “We patch them up, Lee, okay?”

She subsided, her shoulders drooping in her new starched scrubs. I wasn’t known for my sweetness so she probably hadn’t expected me to sympathize with her. I admired her for making the attempt, though.

“Yes. Dr. Reed. I’ll go and start the paperwork.”

I turned back toward the admissions desk and noticed the tall Brit standing there looking in my direction. He raised an eyebrow and I found myself walking toward him. He really did have nice eyes in that coldly patrician face. I couldn’t look away.

“How is Rita?”

“She’s doing fine. We suspect a concussion. Depending on the results of the scan, we might have to keep her in overnight for observation.”

He nodded abruptly. “Do whatever you need to.”

“We will. Do you want to see her?”

“I suppose I should.”

I pointed at the desk. “Tell Lopez I said it’s okay. She’s in five.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reed.” He took out his wallet again. I held up my hand.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tip me.”

“I thought one had to tip for everything in America.” He handed me a square of card. “Perhaps you might call me.”

“About when Rita is discharged?”

“That would be appreciated. I’ll send someone to collect her.”

“Hold up.” I scrawled my cell number on the back of a page torn out of my prescription pad and handed it to him. His ballsy attitude intrigued me. And I’d learned long ago that if I wanted something I had to grab it right away before the chance slipped through my fingers. “How about
you
call me?”

He stared down at the piece of paper and then slowly raised his gaze to meet mine. “Didn’t we just cover this?”

“This isn’t about Rita.”

“Then what?”

I shrugged. “It’s the twenty-first century. Women
are
allowed to give guys their phone numbers these days. Make of it what you will.”

“Thank you.” He folded the paper up and put it in his wallet.

I watched him walk away with Lopez, and belatedly considered the scrap of card he’d handed me.

Alex Logan
.

I tucked it in my pocket and scuttled back toward the safety of the staff room. Five hours until the end of my shift. I might as well finish my sandwich before it got busy again. I closed my fingers around the hard edge of his business card. What the hell was I thinking? There was no way he was going to call me. I’d totally annoyed him. And he wasn’t even really my type. I’d just wanted to see if I could shake that calm composure just a little bit, wanted to make him really look at me, to
see
me.

With a shrug, I made myself a fresh pot of coffee and decided to find a quiet corner and start on the enormous pile of paperwork someone had just dumped in the in-tray on my desk. Insurance companies really were the devil. Mr. Alex Logan might have a point. I hated this part of my job. It took me away from treating patients. The higher I progressed up the chain of command, the worse the paperwork and politics became. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore…

I stared into space. I’d basically suggested Alex Logan was a pimp and he’d suggested he liked to hurt women. Not the best way to start a relationship. But I still couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was better than trying to control the chaos of my life.

***

“Dr. Reed?”

I jammed the phone against my ear as I backed out of the supermarket with two bags of groceries clutched to my chest.

“Yes?”

“It’s Alex Logan.”

I surveyed the parking lot and the pouring rain and opted to sit down on the red plastic seat near the door where a couple of oblivious teens were making out.

“What’s up?”

“Is it a good time to talk?” He paused. His accent was even more pronounced on the phone. I kind of loved it.

“It depends what you want.”

“I was hoping you’d call me.”

“Why, didn’t Rita get back?” I set the bags on the seat beside me. “The desk said she was picked up at noon yesterday.”

“You didn’t call me yourself.”

“So?”

“I decided to call you.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“That’s because I’m still not sure why I’m doing it.”

“Well, don’t let me stress you out.
”
I paused for a beat. “Nice talking to you.”

“Wait.”

I held my breath and gripped the phone so tightly it almost slipped out of my grasp.

“Will you have coffee with me?”

“When?”

“Right now.”