Zenith Rising (20 page)

“Take a shower, eat something, sleep. Seems
like that would be a good place to start.”

She eyed Spencer who was standing inside her
entryway. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking
down at her as usual, silently watching her. Why? What for? What
was he doing here? She didn’t get it.

“How can I feel so bad and be so hungry?
Anytime I have a surgery, I get so hungry, I feel like I’m
starving.”

“Go take a shower.”

“Okay, a shower.”

Trudging towards her bedroom, she peeled off
her clothes and stepped under the faucet while it was still cold.
That helped. It seemed to slice right through her and shake her
awake. She washed her body three times. Then rinsed for fifteen
minutes and almost felt better.

A long robe wrapped around her, her wet hair
combed back and flat against her skull, she walked towards the
kitchen and abruptly stopped. Spencer was at her stove, flipping a
grilled cheese sandwich.

He turned when he heard her and his dark eyes
ran over her wet hair, makeup-free face, and robe, which outlined
the curves of her body. The instant stir of a response she felt
surprised her. How could that be possible after last night and all
the exhausting tears?

“What are you doing?”

“Making a grilled cheese sandwich. You have a
few vegetables in there, and about three packs of sliced cheese.
Figured it must be a favorite since you don’t keep much else
here.”

He was looking through her fridge and
cupboards? Did she want Spencer Mattox here, looking through her
personal life? Observing her home and drawing conclusions about
her?

Then again, good God! He was cooking for
her.

“It’s seven in the morning.”

“So?”

So. Exactly so. She was glad he decided
that.

“Is it your favorite?”

“What?”

“Grilled cheese.”

“Oh. Yes, it is.”

He shook his head, and turned away. “Never
would have pegged that one.”

“Why? What’s wrong with grilled cheese?”

“Nothing. It’s just so simple, a kid’s menu
kind of food. Not exactly a Dr. Erica Heathersby kind of food.”

She studied him before looking intently at
her sandwich heating on the pan. “I like a lot of different things,
Spencer,” she said quietly, inferring more than just cheese
sandwiches. He glanced up at her unusual tone before flipping the
sandwich onto a plate. He served it at the two-seat breakfast bar
separating her kitchen from the living area.

She sat down, a little surprised at the
extent of his services when she saw the coffee was already made and
poured. She started to eat, and the hot, gooey cheese melted into
her mouth between the plump and perfectly toasted white bread. She
didn’t speak until after she finished the entire sandwich.

“You’re much better at this than I am.”

He was on the other side of the bar, leaning
against it. “What?”

“Cooking. I can’t cook worth a damn. I
usually burn these. Aren’t you going to have one?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t you eat? Come to think of it, I’ve
never seen you eat.”

“I eat. Whenever. Not really into meals that
much.”

“Kind of like you sleep during random hours
too?”

“Yeah kind of. Not much of a routine
person.”

“Then why are you on time for work every
single day without a beat?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“I gave you my word I’d be there. If I say
I’ll do something, I do it.”

She studied him, but he didn’t smile. He was
waiting at her car this morning, and now he made her something to
eat. What was happening? If yesterday meant nothing, except sex,
than why was he here now?

She chewed, swallowed, wiped her mouth, and
set the napkin down, all the while staring at him incredulously.
“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Be here. You don’t owe me anything.”

His eyebrows wrinkled. “I know I don’t owe
you anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shrugged, and shifted his eyes from hers.
She stood up before crossing around the counter, and standing
before him. Then she stood there, looking up at him. He finally had
to look down at her. “I think you know why. That wasn’t just sex we
had. I’ve had just sex, and yesterday wasn’t that. Or this.
Whatever this is.”

“This is nothing.” Arms over his chest, he
was quite clear about letting her know she was not to touch
him.

“Nothing? Why can’t you admit you might like
me, even a little?”

“I do like you, Doc, every blessed inch of
your body.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me?” he frowned. “What’s
not to believe? Why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?”

“I mean, I think it’s more than that.”

He shook his head. “It’s not.”

Then he stepped forward, pulling her up
against him, and putting his hands on her waist before dropping the
sash on her robe. It fell open in a long line down the front of her
body, revealing nothing but a glimpse of flesh: her belly-button,
the V between her breasts, and her pale, white hair. His hand went
directly to that spot and she nearly cried out, more from surprise
than passion. She put her hands on his shoulders for support.

“This is why I’m here,” he said in a quiet
voice that faded into her ears. His fingers gently stroked her so
lightly, she had to grit her teeth and physically refrain from
rubbing herself harder against his hand. His fingers continued to
slide along her naked body. She moaned and collapsed against him,
despite knowing he was only doing it to prove a point. One that she
didn’t want him to make. But damn! He was so quick, and so good, it
was hard for her to think at all.

He didn’t kiss her. Or hold her. Or even call
her by her name. He had never, in fact, called her by her name and
something wasn’t okay about that in her mind. Even if things felt
this good.

Her hands slid from his shoulders, down his
arm, and encircled his wrist. She stopped his hand. “Kiss me,
Spencer.”

He jerked his hand away from hers.

“I want you to kiss me first. I want you to
hold me. And acknowledge me.”

“Come on, Doc, I can get you off. Just let
me. You’ll feel better.”

“Erica. My name is Erica. Call me by my name.
That is what will make me feel better.”

He glared down at her.

“What? Why can’t you call me by my name? Is
it because that would mean you’re not just having sex with me?
Getting off, as you said?”

“If you’re not interested, just say so.”

“No, Spencer, I’m not interested in being one
of your fleeting, emotionless lays.”

“Too late, Doc.”

She dropped her hands from his shoulders.
God, he was cold. His eyes suddenly fluttered. He was looking over
her shoulder as if he were totally uninterested in talking. She
paused to consider what next to say, knowing somehow, he probably
expected her to say what every other woman said to him at this
point.

Instead, she asked, “You do know what I do
for a living, don’t you?”

His eyes met hers, and his expression seemed
puzzled. “What does that have to do with this?”

“What do you think you could possibly know
about getting a woman off that I don’t also know? I don’t need any
help in that department.”

His eyes opened wider with surprise.

“What? You don’t think I can apply what I
know? Oh, I get it; just because you think I’m Erica Heathersby, I
couldn’t know about such things as passion. I could write a book!
Really, I could. What I want, however, is a partner. Not just your
hands or your body. I’m not some kind of smart mannequin. I’m a
thinking, breathing woman, whose name is Erica. Why can’t you just
call me that?”

He pushed her back suddenly and stepped
around her, saying, “If you don’t need my help, I’ll leave.” Then
he slammed the door hard behind him.

She watched him go and her heart felt heavy.
She didn’t want him to leave or be left alone. In a way she
couldn’t recall ever feeling before, with intense longing, she
craved his company. But he wanted no such connection. Nonetheless,
her gut insisted that he did. With her. And he went to great
lengths to pursue it, and her. He came to the hospital. He came
there to be with her. He reached out to her. He wanted something
more from her than just sex.

Yet when she tried to reach for him, he
practically slapped her hand and warned her not to get too
close.

He wanted her, yet he didn’t. She didn’t know
what to do with him. He seemed surprised she wanted him back. What
did he think? She’d never look his way again? But she had. And she
was. And now, apparently, he couldn’t handle it.

****

Spencer left Erica’s condo feeling very
pissed off. He walked briskly to the bus stop, intending to go to
work where he could at least be sure she wouldn’t bump into him.
Erica.
What the hell did she want from him? A damn marriage
proposal? Sex. They agreed on sex, until she went off and made it
all weird.

He’d never seen her like she was this
morning. He went home last night, knowing she would feel destroyed
today. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that? Or how dangerous
she could be to herself and others when she drove, let alone, while
upset and tired? He had no choice but to wait for her and drive her
home. He preferred not to interrupt her doctoring routine. Not when
she was so important and he was literally no more than her driver.
So, of course, he waited at her car. He had to be sure not to miss
her. It was no big deal and meant nothing more.

But she looked so worn out, and her nerves
seemed threadbare from exhaustion. The effect of her job and what
she experienced was deeply etched on her face. But Spencer already
knew that about her.

Why wouldn’t he call her Erica? He could. But
what was the point? Calling her Doc, kept things in perspective.
She was a doctor: brilliant, accomplished, and really something. He
was nothing. He needed to keep that in perspective. She could make
him feel like he could touch the sun sometimes in her presence. He
had to remember the dark side that overshadowed his life. Despite
how good it felt to be near her.

Then she emerged wearing that robe, with her
hair all rumpled. She was startling to behold, and as beautiful
when rumpled and natural as she was when fully made up and
gorgeous. What should he have done? Ignored her? Not tried to make
her feel better? But even that wasn’t good enough for Erica
Heathersby.

Which was the whole point: he was not good
enough for her.

Then again, who knew Erica Heathersby
required no help with certain things? Hearing her say that stunned
Spencer to silence. Maybe he didn’t have her accurately pegged. Or
know her as well as he first assumed.

His unsettled mind kept remembering how he
touched her. He had sex with Erica. It was so surreal, and
unexpected that he almost couldn’t believe it really happened. She
wasn’t anything like he imagined. Sure, he was undeniably attracted
to her, and thought about every movement her body made, the rustle
of her clothes, and the tossing of her hair. But then, Erica being
so hot and turned on was beyond anything he could envision. She was
hotter, quicker, and wilder than he ever anticipated. She was
breathtaking, and vibrantly alive, not just remotely beautiful and
untouchable like the vibes he usually felt coming from her.

She didn’t deal with any of this like he
assumed she would. He thought she’d sweep their tryst under the
rug, and pretend it didn’t happen. He was sure she’d seem cold and
act indifferently toward him. Or, at the very least, fire him.

But… no. She clung to him for twenty minutes
after they had sex. She told him privileged information that no one
else knew. She seemed nearly unwilling to let him go. He didn’t
know what to do or think about that.

She was embarrassed, shocked, and even
uncomfortable, but she never acted sorry. In fact, unbelievably,
she didn’t regret it at all, and seemed like she wanted more from
him. More of what he didn’t know how to give.

What the hell? He should have just quit
working for Erica and be done with it. He’d already gotten more
from her than he ever dreamed he would. He should have cut his
losses and moved on. Like usual. Like he always had in the past.
Those thoughts occupied Spencer’s mind all day as he worked to
accomplish the various tasks on Erica Heathersby’s to-do list.

Chapter Thirteen

Erica slept for five hours and when she
awoke, realizing she had to face it all over again, she dutifully
arose. In casual dress, she ran to the hospital. She first checked
on an almost comatose Quinn and his newborn baby girl, who was
still under observation even though she was healthy. By the time it
was evening, she finally drove over to Spencer’s house.

After having slept, eaten, and more or less
shaken off the intoxicating grief from her emotions, she felt
better prepared to face Spencer and the prospect of their new
relationship. She wanted to have a conversation with him when she
wasn’t half hung-over. He wasn’t at home and didn’t answer his
cell. She suspected he was ignoring her calls, but remained
undaunted. She refused to be put off. She wasn’t afraid of his
surly, sour attitude. Not anymore. He showed his hand to her, and
Erica knew he liked her. He more than liked her. And she wasn’t
about to get used and discarded like Tamira. She wasn’t a Tamira to
him. She knew that much.

She went back to her building and walked
upstairs to talk to Joelle. Joelle was the only person in Erica’s
sphere who knew Spencer.

Joelle opened the door, putting a finger to
her lips as she pointed towards the bassinet. Erica quietly
followed her to the balcony of their penthouse. Once outside,
Joelle closed the door and smiled.