Playing Doctor (23 page)

I waited while Hawk shut off the lights and locked the door. No fancy alarm system needed in this small town. I noticed he had taken off his suit jacket and tie and left them in the office. He looked less formidable with his shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, but still totally gorgeous, the white cotton contrasting with his dark, reddish-brown skin. I now knew this was not a tan but his natural Native American coloring, and I wanted to see more of his bare skin.

We strolled diagonally across Main Street to the only establishment in Willow Pond that served food. We didn't say much as we walked, and I wondered what the night would bring. This man was unlike any I had met before, an intensely masculine combination of virile and suave. The trepidation was back—like prey, I felt skittish and hyperaware of the man next to me.

Inside, the place was surprisingly packed, which was unexpected in this sleepy little town, but it was Friday night, after all. Loud country music was playing, and through the haze of smoke and dim lighting, I could see some guys gathered around a pool table in the back. We managed to find two spots squeezed together at the crowded bar, and I felt the now-familiar electricity zing up my leg when our thighs bumped together as we sat down. By the way he hesitated when we touched, I guessed he felt it too.

“Don't expect any fancy martinis or fine wine, but you can get your basic well drinks…and about every beer known to man.” Hawk laughed.

The din was so loud that we needed to lean close to talk—our heads almost touching—and I shivered at the feel of his breath on my ear. We ordered burgers, and he urged me to try an unusual cocktail, the only drink they excelled in, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. When the drinks arrived we clinked glasses.

“To new friends,” I said and took a big gulp. “Wow! This is sweet…really,
really
sweet.”

“It's called a Kool-Aid Caddy in honor of Hastings, where Kool-Aid was invented.”

“Okay then, in honor of Hastings…bottoms up.” I tilted the glass and started gulping it down. I was thirstier than I realized after the afternoon in the sun. Drinking too fast, I choked.

“Careful,” he admonished. As I coughed and spluttered, Hawk patted my lower back with his warm hand. “Only small sips, and let them trickle slowly down your throat. Then you can truly appreciate the nectar of the gods…of Nebraska.” He laughed.

“Ah, you're no fun,” I flirted boldly. “How are you going to take advantage of me if you don't get me drunk? And, anyway, I don't even taste any alcohol in this.”

“All that sugar masks the vodka. If you drink it too fast on an empty stomach, you'll be drunk as a skunk.”

Then he paused and tilted his head to stare at me, seeming to reconsider my words. Slowly, Hawk broke into a wicked grin and stopped patting me. Instead, he started making slow, swirling caresses on my lower back that were more drugging than the alcohol.

Leaning in, he whispered, “Would you like me to take advantage of you?” His husky voice was another caress. “We've only just met, but I'm finding it hard to keep my hands off you.”

I laughed—well pleased to know Hawk was as interested in me as I was in him. I leaned into his shoulder, preparing what I hoped would be a smart, seductive comeback.

Just then, some locals interrupted us, breaking the mood. From the smiles and backslaps, it was clear they were old high-school buddies and had been good friends before Hawk left for college and a law career in the big city. They talked for a few minutes and wished each other well before the guys departed. I appreciated this brief chance to see another side of Hawk—a hometown boy who would always be welcomed back. It made him seem less of a stranger to me. He was someone's friend and hopefully would be mine too.

With the arrival of the meal, we ordered a second round of drinks, then began devouring our food. As we ate, we learned about each other: both single, both devoted to our careers, both living in big cities. One difference became obvious too, although it wasn't expressly stated—he made a lot of money and I didn't. It occurred to me that if I sold to the developer, I would have a wad of cash, but I pushed the thought aside. I was having a wonderful time with Hawk and grateful to let the ennui flow out of me as the alcohol flowed in. But where was this going? Was this just a casual dinner, or what?

Hawk's earlier comment seemed accurate—he couldn't seem to keep his hands off me, touching me on the shoulder, caressing my lower back, even trailing his finger along the line of my jaw. I found myself leaning into his touch and “accidentally” pressing my thigh against his. It would have been perfect except that I knew we lived too far apart for this to turn into a real relationship—but it was still great fun flirting with such a gorgeous guy.

As our plates were cleared, I asked the bartender for a glass of water, wondering what would happen next. Would Hawk make a play for me—try to seduce me? I wasn't ready to say good-bye to him, but I wasn't sure I was ready for sex with a stranger, either. Then, from behind me, I heard a woman's happy screech.

“
Oh my God!
Lucky Hawk! How are you? It's so good to see you!”

I looked over my shoulder to find a pretty woman gleefully grabbing on to Hawk. She was dressed to attract, sky-high heels, skintight jeans, lots of cleavage—the woman was stacked!—and too much makeup and gaudy jewelry. Hawk was smiling, hugging her back, muttering about old times.

I turned my back to her, ostensibly to thank the bartender for the water but really to decide how to extricate myself from the evening without losing face. I had thought Hawk was interested in me, but would this virile man want to take a chance on me, when a sure bet was now available?

“Lucky, Sweetie.
Pleeeeease
come dance with me!” the interloper purred, pulling on his arm. “It'll be just like old times.”

Some part of me rebelled at giving up that easily, so I turned around fully to face the woman defiantly and let her know there was competition. But I didn't expect to win.

Hawk said, “Wynona, I'd like you to meet Liza Jensen. We were just finishing up dinner.”

“Oh!” She giggled, eyeing me with scorn. “I didn't see you there…such dark clothes and all.” Wynona laughed again—at me—before turning her sole attention to Lucky Hawk.

I felt ugly and plain! My clothes were the antithesis of feminine, the exact opposite of sexy. Underneath I knew my figure couldn't compete with hers.

Before I could respond, Wynona stepped closer and slid her hand playfully up Hawk's arm. “I'm sure your business client won't mind you having a
little
fun,” she whined. “She looks ready to leave anyway.”

“The thing is, Wynona. I was already having fun with Miss Jensen. And she's not my client. Our business is now finished…at least our
work
business,” Hawk said, throwing me a blistering look.

He wanted me!

The simmering desire I had felt all evening thrummed larger, making me feel more attractive and sexy.
He wanted me!
But was I really the kind of woman that could satisfy a man who literally dripped sex appeal? Not previously, surely. Would I even have the courage to put it all out there, to dive headlong into the pursuit of pure pleasure with this man?

“Humph!” Wynona sniffed. “I remember what you like, Lucky. Big-city girls don't know the first thing about pleasing a guy. Once you figure that out, you know where to find me—if I'm still available, that is.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then gave me another derisive glance before walking off.

“Old girlfriend?” I asked, trying to sound sardonic rather than jealous.

“Yeah, uhhh…we go way back, but that was a long time ago. Sorry about that.”

I told Hawk it was nothing, but in truth, I needed a moment to sort out the roiling mixture of desire, jealousy, and trepidation coursing through me—all this about a man I had just met. Excusing myself to the ladies' room, I left him sitting there…after double-checking that Wynona was otherwise occupied.

Once there, I looked myself over in the bathroom mirror.
Yuck!
My look was more undertaker than hot babe. Not a problem if all I wanted was to go to my hotel alone. Staring at my reflection, I tried to decide what I really wanted. There was definitely something sizzling between us. I could feel it with certainty, as if it were spelled out in one of Hawk's legal documents. Even so, sex with a stranger? Was I
really
thinking of doing that? It gave me pause—words from the reading of the will came to mind. Was I of “sound mind and body” in actually contemplating a one-night stand, something I'd never done before, not even in college?

But I couldn't just walk away—I hadn't felt this alive, this vibrant, in a very long time. Still looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that I did know what I wanted, and he was sitting out there waiting for me. Squaring my shoulders, I made the bold—for me, anyway—decision to pursue a one-night stand with a man I hardly knew.

I took several calming breaths.

Now, how to change from funeral director to femme fatale?
I wondered. I took off the shapeless jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and unbuttoned my cream-colored silk blouse till just a hint of my bra showed, thankful that I wore pretty pale-pink lingerie adorned with lace. There was nothing I could do about the ugly skirt and flats, but I fluffed my hair and rummaged in my purse. Ahhh, there it was—my favorite lipstick. It would be obvious to Hawk that I had performed an impromptu makeover, but I didn't mind him knowing I had done this for him. Adding a bright layer of scarlet, I pouted in the mirror. My lush lips now looked delectably kissable.

When I returned to Lucky Hawk, he smiled appreciatively at me and stood up. I could see that there were two filled shot glasses on the bar, and he said, “I would like to dance with you, but first let's celebrate our new friendship with a toast.”

I nodded agreement, and he handed me one. Raising the other, Hawk said, “In the words of my Omaha ancestors, ‘Ask questions from your heart and you will be answered from the heart.'” He tilted his glass and drank it all in one gulp.

I wondered at the proverb's meaning but liked the sense of loving honesty. Following his example, I put the glass to my lips and downed it all, feeling the burning tequila trail hotly down my throat.

After giving me a naughty grin, he said, “If that isn't enough to allow me to…as you said…
take advantage of you
, I've got some wine back at the office.”

Then he led me to the small dance floor. He pulled me close, and we swayed to the romantic beat of the music. His hand once again made slow circles on my lower back, and the delicate sensation flooded me with warmth. Our bodies were pressed together, and I could feel he was hard against my belly. I wanted it pressed lower, ached to feel his bulge where it belonged. I raised my eyes to his and saw that he was staring at my mouth.

“You have the most deliciously luscious lips I've ever seen,” he said. “I've wanted to kiss them since the moment I saw you this afternoon.”

Then he bent his head to me and kissed me while we continued to move slowly in place. His tongue danced in and out of my open mouth, and he tasted of tequila. It felt perfect, but then he pulled back. I couldn't help leaning into him, following his mouth with mine. I needed more!

“Look,” he groaned. “I could beat around the bush. I could invite you to the office for a glass of wine or I could make some other excuse to get you alone, but we're both adults…that's not how I operate. I want to be direct and to the point with you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I breathed, in a sensual haze that made talking increasingly difficult.

“I want to take you back to my office, strip you naked, and make love to you.”

He waited patiently and assuredly for my reply, staring into my eyes and seeming to will me to say what he wanted to hear. I already knew that Hawk was a good lawyer; his stories this evening told me he was used to getting his way through carefully elucidated language. I learned now that he was also a consummate closer. Whispering huskily, he added, “The couch will do for starters. There, I will kiss you senseless. The chairs might be fun too. But bending you over the top of the desk, that is where I want to fuck you.”

The haze burst into a blaze of heat, and I sensed his words right down to my tingling cunt. Nothing else mattered now—I needed to screw this man, feel him banging me over and over. I managed a single nod of acquiescence.

Without another word, Hawk took my hand, turned, and led me out of the bar. It was all I could do not to run across the street. It was wickedly exciting, the idea of having sex with him right there in his law office. Suddenly that old practice with its large, ancient furnishings was the sexiest place on earth. We both walked briskly, not saying a word as he fished the keys out of his pocket. Once there, he quickly unlocked the door. I was finally about to be fucked, and I laughed in delighted anticipation.

Order Kate Allure's next book
in the Meeting Men series

Lawyering Up

On sale August 2015