Midnight Heat (Black Phoenix Book 2) (5 page)

“Rebecca?” Nathan touched her shoulder. “You drifted away for a minute there.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” She didn’t know what to say. He was a trauma surgeon. He got a thrill from late night disasters and heroic efforts to save someone’s life against all odds. He lived for the adrenaline rush that came with holding a life in his hands and coming out the victor. He wouldn’t understand her need for calm, or that the stress was becoming too much. There was no way to explain that the lure of something more never vanished. The memory of her time with Dominic – the nights filled with laughter and lovemaking – never faded. Until the gloss around her life, the life her father had pushed her into from early childhood, wore off. “It’s been a long week. And I have another shift in a few hours.”

Nathan stepped back, his expression going grim. “I hear he’s back.”

“Who’s back?”

He raised an eyebrow.

She sighed. “What did you hear?”

“I heard about an accident victim the other night. One whose identity flustered you.”

Of course he had. The hospital was a den of gossip, and any bit of news – whether real or imagined – could spread through every member of the staff fast enough to make teenage girls envious.

“How do you feel about that? The fact that he is back, I mean.”

“Honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Nathan nodded, then glanced over his shoulder.

Rebecca looked, too, spotted her father standing on the front step, frowning. “I should go.”

“I don’t have to stay, you know. We could go to a nice restaurant. You look like you could use the fuel.”

She stifled a laugh. “Thanks for noticing, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Rain check?”

She looked up into his hazel eyes and wished, not for the first time, that she could feel even a small portion of the sexual chemistry that she felt with Dominic. It would certainly simplify things. But there was nothing. Not even a low hum of attraction.

At least not on her part.

A sigh escaped her lips. “I’ll get back to you on that, okay?”

Chapter Four

Dom hoped this second visit with Rebecca went better than the first. The first was a success in the show-her-he-was-still-a-sorry-sonofabitch department, which would have been bloody fantastic had that been his goal. Of course, it wasn’t. No, he’d had just the opposite on his mind when he’d hauled his sorry ass out of bed and to her doorstep. Something that would improve her opinion of him. Not lower it.

No such luck. He’d been too cross; irritable and out of sorts. Crabby, she’d said.

Hell.

He’d struck out in such spectacular fashion it was embarrassing; failing to improve her opinion of him, to even get her to take a drive with him. How was he ever going to win her back if he couldn’t even convince her to spend more than a few moments of time with him?

At least he’d made her laugh, even if it was at his expense. God, he loved her laugh. Rebecca laughed with her whole body, no holding back. Her eyes lit, her face softened, and she lost that careful, focused always-in-control demeanor. Years ago he’d excelled at getting her to lose control. Laughter was just one of the ways. The other made him hard just thinking about it.

Leaning against the crossover, which he had parked in a way that meant she couldn’t leave until he moved, he watched the side door of the hospital. Waiting; to do better this time. To show her he wasn’t the ornery man who’d stood on her porch. He’d been warned during discharge instructions his mood could turn foul, but he couldn’t have imagined just how foul. Even he hadn’t been able to stand himself lately.

At least he was still alive and in a position to redeem himself. He hurt like a bitch, his entire body aching, every muscle screaming in protest of the thrashing it had received when the SUV had rolled. But he was still alive, and in a better mood than the last two days.

The door swung open, pulling him from his thoughts. Eyes narrowed against the sun, even though he wore sunglasses with the darkest lenses he could find, Dominic tracked Rebecca as she made her way across the lot. Unlike anyone else he knew, Becca rarely wore jeans. Today, she’d donned black trousers that sat low on her waist, and a lightweight beige sweater, both fitted just enough to show off her lush feminine curves. Her blazing red hair was shiny and straight, pulled away from her face in one of those inside out ponytails, revealing every freckle that dotted her porcelain skin. Including the one on the corner of her mouth, a mouth that at one time marked his flesh with kisses, sighs, and soft, murmured words.

She came to a stop in front of him. “Dominic.”

“Becca.”

“What happened to the blue minivan?” She made a show of looking around, her emerald eyes sparking. “You didn’t crash it, did you?”

“Funny.”

She grinned and he couldn’t help but grin back. Damn she was something. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what she’d ever seen in him. She was whip smart, a genuine card-carrying member of Mensa. He was a musician who barely made it through school.

After a few moments, her smile faded away. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“How did you know I would be here? This isn’t my normal shift,” she reminded him.

No, her normal shift was noon to midnight, the same hours as his. “I was driving by, saw your car.”

“And decided to wait on the off chance I might come strolling out any minute?” She crossed her arms and nailed him with a stare. “Try again, Stud.”

Dominic grimaced and shook his head.

“What?”

“Do you have to call me that? Can’t you think of something else to call me?”

Very slowly, she arched an eyebrow. “You want me to come up with something else to call you. Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

He suddenly thought it was the worst idea he’d had in a long time. Not that his new name wouldn’t be accurate, most likely it would be spot on, he just wasn’t ready to hear what she thought of him.

“Because if you really—”

“Forget I said anything.”

Her lips curved in wry amusement. “I can’t believe it bothers you so much. You do own a mirror? You must, or you couldn’t keep that goatee so perfectly trimmed. When did you decide on that anyway?”

“You don’t like it?” He would shave the damn thing off as soon as possible.

She stared at his mouth, then lifted her gaze to his. Her smile faded. Her eyes darkened.

He knew what that meant and couldn’t have been more blindsided if she’d kneed him in the bollocks. “You do like it.”

“It’s…”

“It’s…what?” Dom straightened away from the crossover and into her space. She was staring at his mouth again. He leaned in, just a little closer and something came alive between them. Her breathing quickened. His slowed. “Becca—”

She took a step back and shook her head. “You had to come back, didn’t you? And if that wasn’t bad enough, you had to be better looking? I’ve put on ten pounds since you left, and you…” Her gaze moved over his face and body like she wanted to soak in every detail. “Look at you. Why the hell couldn’t you have gotten fat or ugly or something?”

For a long moment he couldn’t breathe as his blood thumped harder. “Clean living?”

She released a startled laugh. “Like you’d know clean living if it bit you on the ass.”

True.

“An ass that appears to be even firmer than the last time I saw it.”

Christ.
She’s killing me.
He moved back into her space. “You can grab a handful if you’d like, so you’ll know for certain.”

Her smile faded. She stared at him a moment, then blew out a breath. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

His lips curved. “I am.”

“You say that as if it’s a good thing.”

“I suddenly get the feeling that it is.” She had not yet told him to bugger off. She hadn’t even backed away from him.

“It’s not,” she argued. “You’re also—”

“A complete and utter tosser?”

Her flash of annoyance was impossible to miss. “Does that grin usually work?”

“Work?”

“Just because most women melt with one grin doesn’t mean I will. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I am like most women.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still irritated with you.” She was and it made his smile grow. “Damnit. What do you want from me, Dominic?”

It was his turn for a beat of silence. He weighed the odds of her acceptance against his getting shot down. The chances of a yes were slim. He went for it anyway. “Share a coffee with me.”

“That would be a big mistake.”

“Why?”

She gave him a look.

“Come on, Becca,” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting out here for forty-five minutes while you showered and changed. The sun is painfully bright, making my head throb all the more. Is a coffee really too much to ask?”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know I showered and changed?”

“You always shower and change after a shift.”

“Okay, smart guy, how did you know I was working this shift?”

“I drove by your condo. When you weren’t there I came here.”
Because that didn’t make him sound like a stalker or anything.

“And?”

“I went inside, spoke with the chatterbox from the night of my accident. I told her I wanted to thank you for what you’d done for me. She told me when your shift would be over.”

“You don’t even find that strange, do you? That people tell you anything you want to know?” The sigh she released sounded like exasperation. “She was probably hoping that after you thanked me, you’d stick around to thank her.”

Judging by the tight set of her mouth, she wasn’t too happy about the idea. “Becca—”

She held up her hand and shook her head. “Look, I worked two back-to-back shifts, with just enough time between them to attempt to have dinner with my parents. I’ve consumed more caffeine than most people average in a week, and I’m still so physically and emotionally drained that I’ve already lost the ability to filter my speech. If I don’t get some sleep soon, I’ll start rambling worse than I already am. You remember how I get.”

He did. The more tired she was, the faster her mouth moved, usually letting loose something she would never have said if she weren’t so vulnerable.

“Listen, I can’t… I’m not going to share a coffee with you.”

It was clear by the lines of fatigue around her eyes that she needed rest, but that didn’t stop him from tempting her with the one thing he knew she found impossible to resist. “Okay, we’ll do ice cream instead.”

Her eyes went wide. “What? How is that better?”

“Strawberry ice cream.”

A look of longing crossed her face. It figured he would finally see that look again and it had absolutely nothing to do with him. “I love strawberry ice cream.”

“I remember.”

“What’s with the crossover?”

It took a moment to adjust to the abrupt change of topic—another thing she did a lot of when tired. Dom turned and focused on the vehicle under discussion. “
Luxury
crossover or so the salesman kept reminding me. It’s Isabeau’s new ride. I picked it up for her.”

“Wow, three days. That’s got to be the fastest insurance company I’ve ever heard of.”

“The insurance company had nothing to do with it. They’ve yet to decide whether they’ll be replacing her vehicle or not.”

“What? Why?”

“Too many losses in too short a time frame.”

“Can they do that?”

He shrugged.

Rebecca moved past him to the other side of the crossover. “It’s nice. I love the color, more of a candy apple red than a standard red, isn’t it?” She kept circling as if she didn’t expect an answer, until she’d circled the entire thing and once again stood at his side. “Did you buy it for her?”

“Isabeau picked it out. She doesn’t know it yet, but yes, I paid for it.” She wouldn’t be pleased when she found out, either, but it was the least he could do. After all, he was the reason she needed a new car in the first place. “Are you ready?”

“For?”

“Ice cream, remember? I’ll let you drive.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Everyone likes driving new cars.” He certainly did. He had a lifelong affection for cars, especially sports cars. An affection made stronger by the fact that he’d grown up shit poor. The bastard son of a junkie. The scrawny, sickly loner who never fit in.

Until he’d discovered music.

He had a natural aptitude for the bass, a talent that had quickly turned his life around. In no time he became a common household name; no longer needing to worry about whether he could afford a new pair of shoes or where his next hot meal would come from. It had all been so new, so shocking that on Black Phoenix’s first world tour, the one thing he’d done in every new city was slip away and take a car on a test drive. Fancy, outrageously expensive cars that as a young boy had been nothing more than a fantasy, but as a man could be a reality.

Could be. If he’d ever bought one.

But he never did, just touched them, reveled in the fact that he could own one—hell, five—if he so desired. Soaked up the way the stuffed-shirts tripped over themselves to assist him, instead of turning up their noses and taking a wide berth around him, or kicking him out.

For years it had been his guilty pleasure. A sad statement about his person. Bloody pathetic, really.

“Come on, you know you want to, Bec. It’s pretty loaded. Upgraded audio system, voice activated navi. Isabeau doesn’t skimp when it comes to her cars, although her love of SUVs has me flummoxed.”

“It’s a luxury crossover,” Becca corrected, her voice full of humor.

“How could I forget? At least this has more horsepower than her Navigator, so it’s more fun to drive. Twin turbos and a direct inject system that means it’s good for the environment.” Had he really just said that? Since when did he give a piss about a car’s environmental impact? Performance is what counted. Speed and handling. “Damn state. I’m even beginning to talk like one of you.”

“God forbid,” she replied, then pulled the driver’s door open and climbed in for a closer look. “Don’t worry. You’ll be out of this state in no time.”