Sara looked at the shorts in horror as Josie pulled them on. “Where are you going wearing those? To clean up litter on the side of the highway?”
It was easy for Sara. As a pediatrician, she got to wear cute floral skirts and sundresses to work every day. Josie alternated between scrubs on surgery days and khaki-colored pants her mother would call slacks when she attended clinics.
“I’m going home. Alone.” She wasn’t going to call Houston. She couldn’t.
It would be a mistake.
But such a naughty, good, orgasmic mistake.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Dammit. A picture of him in tight briefs, strutting towards her, ready to tear her clothes off, would not vacate her distraught brain.
The kiss had done her in. If he could make her pant with a kiss, she just knew he could make her scream with a strategically placed touch or two. And didn’t she deserve to scream, after all? Didn’t she work hard? Houston’s plan to give in to all of their pent-up lust for one sex-drenched night would solve all her complications at work. Wouldn’t it?
No, no, and no.
Sara pushed her glasses up. “We’re back to the part about you being crazy.”
“Sara, it’s not a good idea. I can’t risk it.”
“Then let me have him.” Sara grinned at her.
It was supposed to be funny. Just a joke. But Josie found herself feeling anything but amused. She didn’t want Houston. But she didn’t want anyone else to want him.
Who exactly was she kidding? She wanted him. So much that even now she was a little wet and swollen with need, just in anticipation. Even pressing against the front of her shorts felt arousing, and the zipper was only plastic, for crying out loud.
“Besides, how many times are you both going to have the same night off? It’s like fate telling you to grab the bull by the horns and have sex with him. Dr. Hayes, not the bull.”
She knew what Sara meant. And she was starting to think she was right.
Just one night.
A fantasy come to life.
Then everything would be normal.
Or she would totally fall for him, become addicted to his touch, and spend the rest of her residency trotting behind Houston begging for more.
Of course she had more pride than that. Usually.
She nibbled her fingernails in indecision. “Oh, I can’t decide. It’s like staring at a big piece of chocolate cake when you’re on a diet. You know you shouldn’t, you know you’ll be sorry, but it will taste so damn good.”
“Do it, Josie.” Sara put her hands on her hips. “Have a little chocolate cake for all of us who can’t. I’m like in Communist Russia. There’s no chocolate cake even available to me.”
Josie grabbed her dirty scrubs and pulled her backpack purse out of her locker. “Let’s go. I’ll go to dinner with you and think about it.”
They started down the aisle towards the door, Josie’s mind not on her feet, but on Houston and his marvelously skilled surgeon’s hands and what they could do to her body.
She caught her bulky gym shoe on the metal rung of the aisle bench and went sailing into the lockers with a vibrating crash.
A little stunned from the impact, the sting of locker slat marks on her cheek, Josie looked at Sara.
Sara shook her head.
Josie sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll text him.” Maybe Houston could screw some sense into her.
Chapter Eight
Houston paced across the ceramic tile of his living room, waiting for Josie to answer the phone.