Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 (19 page)

“Can I give you a lift?  My car can be here in five minutes and I’d be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”

She shook her head.  “That’s not possible unless your car can float on water.”  She checked her watch.  “Besides, I don’t know you and I would never get into a car with a man I don’t know.”

“Fair enough,” I said.  Although I was disappointed she wouldn’t take me up on my offer, I had to agree with her superior logic.  A girl who looked like her definitely shouldn’t go with any man she didn’t know.  It would be dangerous.  For some reason I hated the idea of her in any kind of danger.  “I’m really sorry you had to endure that crowd tonight.  I hope I didn’t do anything to offend you—”

“I saw you stand up to him, and I thank you for that.  And no, you didn’t offend me with your ignorance of meatballs.  I’m happy to have helped sort out that little problem for you.  Now you are an informed connoisseur of the rare delicacy called a meatball, and you owe it all to me,” she replied with a hint of a smile.

She was so awesome trying to joke around with me when it was apparent she was still upset about the clusterfuck that had happened to her inside that reception tonight.  She looked beautiful, but very...sad.  If I had to choose a word to describe how she appeared to me it would have to be sad.  And that bothered me greatly.

“Thank you for the meatball tutorial.  I enjoyed it very much.  I’m Caleb by the way.  Caleb Black—”

I was interrupted by her phone chiming out the unusual but unmistakable ring tone of Ricky Martin’s,
Shake Your Bon-Bon
.  Interesting choice I thought, as she turned away to take the call.

“Fucking hell, I’m so glad you called me back.” 
The word
fuck
in that accent—damn...

“I can still catch the eight-thirty ferry if I hurry so I’m going home after all.  I won’t be staying over.”  Ah. 
That’s not possible unless your car can float on water.
  Got it.

“Long dreadful story.  Suffice to say I’m looking for a new second job.” 
She needed a second job?

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
The offices on Hereford Street.

“I love you, too.” 
Boyfriend or just friend?

My stalking skills were improving by the second if I was now capable of listening in on entire conversations and deciphering them.  I’d caught every word she’d spoken.  A cab pulled forward for her, and she said clearly, “Blackstone Island Ferry Company,” to the driver as she got in.

I watched her cab pull into traffic and drive away until it was out of sight.

She never looked back to say goodbye.

She’d not told me her name either, but I knew it was Brooke.  Brooke who lived on Blackstone Island and worked in the design studio on Hereford Street next door to Starbucks.  She was beautiful and witty and feisty.  I was more than impressed by her no-nonsense attitude throughout the night with her boss and the patrons.  Brooke was no shrinking violet, plus she had the most amazing voice I’d ever heard.

That was all the information I had been able to gather about her, but it was enough to find her again if I wanted to.  There was no ‘if.’  When.

And it was more than plenty.

––––––––

The End
(for now)

* * *

FILTHY RICH, Blackstone Dynasty I

Book #1 in a new series from
Raine Miller

Publishing autumn 2016 by
Montlake Romance

Pinterest Board for FILTHY RICH

C
HAPTER ONE

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“C
ali, do you see who is standing at the bar?” asked my best friend, Taylor. I tried to look everywhere but the aforementioned place, where a group of men had gathered around on stools or were standing there looking like gods.

“Whatever,” I said back to her in a dismissive ‘please move to another topic’ tone.

“You have to be kidding me, girl. It’s the entire offensive line for The Bears.” Taylor finished her comment while licking her lips and flashing her lashes. Like they could see her from a mile away.

“Oh, them,” I tried again to get her to move beyond the hot men who took all the air out of the pub. But Taylor had a thing for football and that was why we became close friends. Not too many women had an obsession for the gridiron like we did.

“What’s the matter with you?” She gave me a punch of a look and on a normal day, I would take it like a champ. But nothing about this day is normal. Or yesterday. Or even the previous week.

“I think I’m changing my Bears jersey in for the Blackhawk one.” I shrugged my shoulders at her while she dropped her jaw and stared at me. I almost checked around my head to see if another one had sprouted up, as she looked that terrified.

“But you hate hockey! You’re more of a football nut than I am.”

And she was right. Until the quarterback, Marcus Flea-flicking Flynn, became my first erectile dysfunction patient last week. Let me back up a little and explain.

The usual doctor for the specialty clinic was called to the hospital unexpectedly. He asked me to take his patients for the day since the other doctor in the practice was attending his mother’s funeral.

I was thrilled that he felt I was ready to take patients on my own and he assured me the caseload for the day was light. Just a couple patients coming in for test results.

I straightened my shoulders and took the files from his hands with a quick nod. No problem, I thought to myself. I was ready to begin my medical career as a true doctor, not just a wannabe.

I glanced over the patient information and my heart stopped. I became dizzy and had to sit down when I read the name of the day’s last patient. None other than the notorious Bear’s quarterback, also known as the Chicago manwhore himself, Marcus Flynn.

Besides the name, he was the right age at 32. The right height at six-foot-five. The right weight at two-thirty.

How many times had I imagined having that man’s weight laying over me? Pushing into me? Every damn night...

Marcus earned the title of my go-to boy toy when I had to rub some things out. Rumors abounded about his exploits in bed. How he could fuck a woman into the next week.

So seeing him on my patient list didn’t make a lick of sense.

My first patient was already waiting in a room, so I had to stop my curious mind from focusing on Marcus. Instead, I put his file on my desk and walked down the hallway to meet the fifty-year-old man with issues common for his age.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the fact I was going to face Marcus in a couple of hours. And we would be talking about his cock.

“So what happened last week,” Taylor asked for the millionth time. Little did she know that I couldn’t tell her what I saw and heard. A little law called HIPAA kept my mouth closed like a vice. Fact was, I loved to eat and one small leak would get me fired and banned from medicine for life. But holy shit, how I wanted to spill out what I learned, and that mostly, he was so damn beautiful. A square jaw that was firm and commandingly arrogant. Blue eyes so vivid that the depths rivaled the crisp Caribbean Sea. A body so hard I could believe that granite would be softer. And speaking of softer...

He had an issue. He hadn’t been able to have an erection of any kind in months. I laughed at the chart as if what I was reading contained lies. No way was this virile man impotent. I bet I could swing a pussycat and hit several pussies in Chicago that would attest otherwise.

“Ladies.” A server interrupted my thoughts and Taylor’s continued lament on my sad state. “Drinks from a gentleman at the bar.” I knew who it was without even asking. Marcus has been my constant shadow for the last week. I was tempted to call the cops or even obtain a restraining order, but it was Marcus stalking me. My boy toy. And now patient. I hated blurred lines. Damn you, Robin Thicke. You made them sound so sexy.

“Please tell the person who gave us these drinks that we respectfully decline, but thank you.”

The server knitted her brow and stopped with the drink midair before setting them down in front of us.

“Ouch,” I cried when Taylor’s Louboutin connected with my shin.

“Like hell we will  ‘respectfully decline’ them.” Taylor wrapped her hands around both of the drinks while the server glanced to and fro between us.

I slumped my shoulders in defeat instead of enduring another bruise on my shin.

“Whatever has gotten into you better come out soon or I’m calling a priest. First sign of needing an exorcism is direct shifts in personalities. Like an upside down change.” Taylor eyed me over the top of her free drink as she sipped it. I forgot to mention that Taylor was obsessed with people who were possessed. She converted to Catholicism in hopes of being on a deliverance team. “You’ve been acting peculiar since last week.”

“I know, but I can’t talk about it. Believe me, if I could, you would be the first person I’d tell every detail to.” I reached for the other gifted drink from Marcus and sucked about a third of the fruity Cosmo down.

“Well, you’ve been drinking like you did back in college.”

“It’s not that bad,” I tried to defend the undeniable fact. I was swimming in booze. My blood type was likely V for vodka and Taylor knew me well.

We met at a football game at Northwestern. We were the only two girls in the entire section cheering on our team or cursing them depending on the play.

Even the guys didn’t have the passion we showed. We also both had swatches of black swiped under our eyes. Nothing said soul sister like football war paint.

“You know you’re lying and avoiding the subject. I just wish you could tell me why. I would bet the next Bears’ season it involves a man. As a matter of fact, since when have you rejected drinks from hot Bears’ players?” Taylor pitched her brow and gave me a ‘cough it up sister’ stare.

I glanced up at the bar and my eyes wandered all over Marcus’ fine ass. One that I had seen up close and very personal. Like my fingers palmed it in the exam room while his “problem” nearly hit me in the face.

He had been visiting our clinic with “issues” for two months according to the charts. He kept asking me where his regular doctor was instead of just letting me examine him.

I tried to assure him I was qualified. Sure, he was  the first patient I was flying solo on, but no one had ever challenged my qualifications when other doctors were present. I had the respect of our clients and staff...until him.

“I wish I could tell you every last detail, but it’s work related.” I confessed the situation with as many details as HIPAA allowed me, which amounted to practically none.

“I don’t get it. You see old guys that can’t get it up.” Taylor regarded me over the last of her drink. I knew this conversation would head into dangerous territory fast, so I decided it was time to leave.

“Listen, I’m going to run. Emily should be here any second and you two can prove that your milkshakes bring all the boys to the bar,” I smirked and pointed my finger at the row of Bears’ players still looking our way. Emily was our close friend who liked football enough to tolerate Taylor and me.

“Okay, but whatever is troubling you better leave you alone. I want my friend back or I’m making an appointment for you with my priest,” Taylor warned me and my hairs danced on my arms. She could be scary as hell. Literally. “I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” I gave her a hug and an air kiss. “I just have to outlast this one, until he figures things out,” I spilled even more this time and I watched Taylor’s mouth open to speak. But I shook my head and brought a finger to my lips. I departed before she could blink an eye.

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C
HAPTER TWO

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O
utside the bar’s entrance, I pulled out my phone and opened my trusty Uber app. I selected a car and sighed in relief when I saw the vehicle was only two minutes away.

I loved how easy it was to get around in downtown Chicago. So much different than the busy streets of New York City and much cleaner.

My Uber pulled up to the sidewalk and I approached the curb with my heels clicking on the pavement.

Just as I reached for the door handle, a man’s arm flashed before me. I looked beyond the arm and saw that it was attached to none other than Marcus Flynn. As if I was a fellow player he could order around, he opened the door and motioned for me to get in.

I had a quick decision to make. Turn around and head back inside the bar, or do as he wanted and enter the backseat.

A small shiver of excitement rushed through me at the thought of being in the backseat with him. But a sobering thought brought me back to reality.

He was my patient and I never crossed that line. But then again, I never had a hot Bears’ football player pursuing me.

“Dr. Jones,” Marcus said. “Get the hell in this car.”

I stiffened up my back and brought my hand to my hip. I shook my head to give him my final answer.

“Please,” he begged and in such a way that made me wonder if he would drop to a knee. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

I knew he was lying. I had read over his chart and saw his fine ass as well as his hard cock. There wasn’t a single thing wrong with this man, except an inflated ego.

“We have nothing to say,” I huffed and crossed my arms. Conversation over. He left my office after he declared himself healed. But that declaration came after he had stroked his ten-inch cock in front of me for a minute or two. Apparently he wanted to make sure he would stay erect before leaving. I stared in awe with my mouth open. I was pretty sure I licked my lips and drooled too.

He threw on his underwear and redressed into his clothes like he was Flash Gordon. His exam gown was left wadded up in a ball on the floor.

He took two quick strides to the door with his long, muscular legs. He encircled the doorknob with his fingers and stilled. My mouth was still gaping open from his brief live porn display.

“Thanks doc.” He turned his head to me and spoke. “I’m cured. Finally.”

He left the room with a noticeable spring in his step. I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath.