Текст книги "Then Came You"

Автор книги: Jill Shalvis

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Twenty-one

You think you have me all figured out?” Wyatt asked softly.

Did she think that? No. Not in a million years. “Maybe not completely,” Emily said.

He looked at her for a beat, then took the dog from her and gently set him inside a crate.

“But—” she started, stopping when he turned back and pulled her into him.

Her body instantly came alive. “Wyatt—”

“Shh,” he said, lowering his head to press his jaw to hers. “I need a hug.”

This wrung a laugh out of her because they both knew who needed a hug, and it wasn’t him. But he was big and strong and warm, and damn.

Damn.

He felt so good that her limbs acted of their own accord and snuggled in, burrowing, inhaling deep the very male, very delicious scent of him.

“Did you just smell me?” he asked.

“No.”

He laughed quietly, not bothering to call her on the lie. Stroking a hand up her back, he let out a low sound of regret. “Ah, Em. You’re one big knot.”

“It’s my life,” she said, closing her eyes, holding on tight, hoping he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

Or ever.

She shifted to plant her face into his throat, loving the scent of him, the texture of his skin, the heat of him. God, she loved it when he held her like this, like for a moment he’d shoulder all of her problems.

“You need to make time to relax once in a while,” he said, his big hand stroking up and down her back, making her want to stretch into him like a cat in heat.

“A drink might do it,” she said. “So would ice cream.”

“I’ve got something better.”

She snorted.

He laughed softly and squeezed her tight. Her heart rate ramped up, which had nothing to do with the adrenaline rush of the rescue and everything to do with the man holding her. He was in his usual cargoes and T-shirt, sans the doctor coat tonight. She’d been too discombobulated earlier to see what the shirt said, but she couldn’t deny that he was sexy as hell in everything he wore. Now he was all the more after watching him work on a dog that wasn’t even his patient, and in no way his responsibility.

And yet he’d given one hundred percent to the dog.

And her.

When she’d first met him in Reno, she’d convinced herself he was a shallow, one-night stand guy. But over the past weeks, she’d come to realize how wrong she’d been.

He was strong, inside as well as out. He was smart and funny and protective, and incredibly sexy. But more than just about everything else, he was rock solid steady and unflappable. A guy you wanted at your back.

And he wasn’t in her plan. Still wasn’t, though she hadn’t updated her plan in a while. She didn’t even know how many days were left in Sunshine. If she opened her calendar right now, John would still be in it as one of her goals. “Dammit.”

Wyatt went still, then pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “Problem?”

“Sorry. You make me forget my plan.”

“The one with an almost boyfriend on it, the almost boyfriend who you never talk to or about?”

“Hey, you’re one to judge. You never say one word about Cissy.”

He laughed. “You know her name isn’t Cissy.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you ever talk about her, about Caitlin?” Her gut squeezed. “Did she break your heart, Wyatt?”

His mouth curved. “You worried about me?”

“I do like to worry.”

“Caitlin isn’t a factor,” he said. “Not with us.”

Her heart fluttered, and she wasn’t sure if that was because of the way he’d said Caitlin’s name, with such aching familiarity, or that he’d said “us.” She drew a deep breath. “There is no us,” she said. “And how is Caitlin not a factor, when you can’t even talk about her?”

“Do you talk about John?”

“You know damn well he’s not really a factor.”

“And yet you still put him between us.”

There was that “us” again. “Look who’s talking, the guy who’s got a daily Casserole Brigade.”

“At least those women are real.”

She should have picked up the dog and headed out. It was late, she was tired. And her resistance was down—as evidenced by the urge to throw herself at him.

Wyatt looked at the dog who’d curled up in the crate and gone to sleep, the poor, exhausted baby—and then he grabbed Emily’s hand and tugged her from the room and into his office. “I’m going to head out,” she said. “I—” She broke off when Wyatt yanked her into him.

“I don’t care about a stupid name on your calendar, a name of some dumbass who’s too much of a dumbass to make you his,” he said.

She stared up at him. His eyes were filled with heat, and a surprising temper, a really heady combination. Something wriggled deep inside her. It felt a little bit like a piece fitting into a puzzle. There were emotions, too. Affection, and hunger for this man who never seemed to care what a mess she was. “Crap,” she whispered, still staring at him. Not again. Still . . .

“What?”

“This,” she said, and tugged off his glasses. Then she tugged him down to her level, and kissed him.

He let her have her way for a minute, and then took control, hands in her hair, tongue in her mouth, hard body settling against hers. The heat of him seared into her as she tried to pull him in even closer. Hell she’d have climbed him like a tree if she could.

He pulled back a fraction, smiled a satisfied badass smile, and kissed her again until she forgot to breathe, forgot who she was, hell, she forgot where she was. All she could feel was Wyatt from the top of her head all the way to her toes, and everywhere in between.

When he pulled away again, she didn’t have the brain cells left to protest. Instead she moaned as his lips trailed down her face, her neck, to the pulse racing at the base of her throat.

“Emily.”

She had to clear her throat twice to answer. “Yes?”

“Now’s the time to look me in the eyes and say this is still just a fun time, that this isn’t going to hurt you.”

She stared at him. His hair was more tousled than usual—from her fingers, she realized. His T-shirt was untucked. His gaze was heavy-lidded as he waited for her to process. “A very fun time,” she said.

“And?”

So fierce. So careful with her. Her heart tightened. “And you’d never hurt me,” she whispered, knowing it as the utter truth. The only way he could hurt her was if she cared more for him than he cared for her, but she could see that wasn’t the case.

“Never,” he agreed, voice low and utter steel. “But now is the time to say no if you’re going to.”

One of her hands was still fisted in his shirt, one of his thighs between hers, and when he rubbed it against her at the same time that his hand swept up from a hip to stroke a thumb over her nipple, she got a rush so strong it might have been an orgasm. The sound she made was horrifyingly needy and she tried to suck it back in.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he said, and swept a hand over his desk, knocking files and various piles of crap to the floor.

“So we’re done talking?”

“For a few minutes.” He ran his tongue along the outer edge of her ear, nibbling on the lobe as he brought her palm to his erection.

She shuddered and stroked him. “You think we’ll be done in a few minutes?”

“Keep that up and it’ll be a lot less.”

She popped open his pants, tugged down his zipper, and slid her hand inside. He was hot velvet over steel, deliciously, heart-pounding hard, and every single inch of her trembled in desire and anticipation. “And if someone shows up?”

He backed up enough to hit the lock on his door.

“They might still hear.”

“You’ll have to be very quiet,” he said, and stepped into her until she backed up into his desk. “Can you be very quiet, Emily?”

Oh, God, she thought, that smooth whiskey voice. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s see.” Hands to her waist, he plunked her onto his desk. “Take off your sweater.”

She rushed to do just that but he lent his hands to the cause, stripping it off her himself.

She’d dressed for the day a very long eighteen hours ago, and couldn’t remember what underwear she was wearing. She took a peek and groaned.

Wyatt ran a long, callused finger along the edge of her plain white cotton bra. “Problem?”

“I was hoping I was miraculously wearing black silk,” she said. “Or something good to catch your interest.”

He smiled and stroked her nipple through the cotton with a callused thumb. “Sweetness, you caught my interest a long time ago.” And then her bra was gone, tossed as carelessly over Wyatt’s shoulder as her sweater had been.

“Lift up,” he said, fingers deftly unbuttoning and unzipping her pants.

“You want to see if my panties match?” she asked.

He smiled. “Among other things.”

Yep, Wyatt discovered a minute later, her panties did indeed match the white cotton bra somewhere on the floor behind him. He wanted these there, too. Hooking his fingers in the soft material, he slowly pulled her panties down and took in the sight of Emily naked and sprawled out for his viewing pleasure. “I’m never going to look at my desk in the same way again.”

“Wyatt . . .”

His name left her throat on a raspy whisper of longing. He liked that. He fucking loved that. Stepping between her spread legs, he slid a hand into her hair at the nape of her neck to bring her face to his.

“You’re still dressed,” she whispered.

He loved that, too, the way she could be so shy and yet climb all over him in his truck. Or in the yard by moonlight.

Or let him seduce her in his office . . .

He cupped her breasts and her nipples pebbled against his palms. “God,” she said on a rough exhale, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leaned into him. He smiled, knowing she’d already forgotten to even try to be quiet.

He didn’t care. He loved the sounds she made.

“Mmm,” she murmured into his mouth, like he was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Her tongue fought with his for dominance, but he won the battle when he cupped her ass in one hand, the other sliding down her belly, between her opened thighs.

So wet.

At the feel of her, his entire body tightened, and his hips thrust into her reflexively. She moaned when he pulled away, and tried to reach for him, but he dropped to his knees. With a hand on each trembling thigh, he leaned in and put his mouth on her.

Above him, she made an unintelligible sound. Her head fell back, and when he used his tongue, rubbing in slow circles as he sank a finger into her, she closed her legs on him, like she was afraid he’d stop.

Not a chance.

He stroked her thighs with his hand to reassure her that he was here, right here and not going anywhere, staying close enough to feel every tremor, every quiver.

For him.

She was rocking into his mouth, speeding up, and, given the desperation behind her movements, needing to come bad. When he teased her by slowing down, she merely tightened her grip in displeasure.

Laughing softly against her, he once again increased pressure, and she came for him, hard and fast. She was still shuddering when he rose to his feet, wrapped his arms around her and lifted. He took her the two steps to the couch against the wall, and turning, fell onto it backward, bringing her down on top of him.

She tugged up his shirt. He yanked it over his head and pulled a condom from his wallet. She tried to help him roll it down his length, but only succeeded in nearly making him come. Finally he grabbed her hands and tugged them behind her, squeezing gently.

Getting the message, she held still—well, except for her rocking hips, which was sexy as hell. She watched while he protected them both, eyes glossy, cheeks flushed to match her hardened nipples. He looked his fill, too, considering himself just about the luckiest bastard on earth when she lifted up on her knees. “In me. Please, Wyatt.”

Yeah. He’d please.

She cried out his name again as he thrust up into her, and for a single beat the both of them went stock-still in utter bliss.

Then she bucked against the hands he had tight on her hips, an entreaty for more. When she didn’t get it, she wriggled, the impatient gesture making him both groan and laugh. He loosened his grip, letting her take the reins she wanted so badly.

She flashed him a sexy-as-hell smile and began to move, looking hot as hell riding him. Reaching up, he wrapped a hand around her neck to pull her down to his mouth, his other hand sliding low, his thumb stroking her wet center.

She went off like a bottle rocket, and the beauty of her coming so hard for him was too much. Faces inches apart, eyes locked on each other, he let himself go, pulsing inside her as she panted his name.

When she collapsed over the top of him, he gathered her damp, quivering body in close and concentrated on gulping air into his lungs. Each time with her got more intense, more intimate.

How was that even possible?

He had no clue, none. Pressing his face into her hair, he slid a hand down to cup her ass, holding her to him.

After a long moment, she let out a shaky, contented sigh and went boneless on him.

He traced a random pattern across her skin with his fingers, until she shifted restlessly. Her movement went right through him, making his cock twitch.

“Again?” she asked with a whisper of hope.

He rolled, tucking her beneath him, letting his body answer for him.

“I forgot to be quiet,” Emily said some time later as she sat up on the couch, eyes wide, hair wild, cheeks rosy, her lips still wet and a little swollen. “Was I loud?”

Wyatt leaned over her and kissed her worried mouth. “I don’t know.”

“How could you not know, you were right here.”

He grinned. “Well, the first time, your legs were around my ears, so I couldn’t hear.”

“Oh my God.” She covered her face, then peeked out between her fingers. “It’s your fault, you know. It’s how you touch me. You make me forget myself.”

He laughed and kissed her again. “I loved it,” he said against her mouth.

She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him back enough to stare into his eyes. “And the second time?”

“Loved that, too.”

She let go of him to smack his chest. “I mean why don’t you know if I was loud the second time?”

He held her gaze. “It’s how you touch me,” he said, echoing her words. “You make me forget myself.”

She stared back at him. “Dammit.” And then she leapt at him.

“Again?” he asked, laughing.

This time she let her body answer for her, and he had no objections.

Twenty-two

The next morning, Wyatt drove into work with a silent and brooding Darcy. “Hey,” he said, turning to her when he turned off the truck and met her pissy gaze. “I’m not the one who agreed to work the front desk for a week.”

“I’m not mad at the fact I’m working,” she said.

“Then what are you mad at?”

“You.”

No surprise there. She’d been mad at him since birth. “Why?”

“You’re breathing, aren’t you?”

That wasn’t it and they both knew it. AJ had told her to stop using the walker and downgrade to the cane, but Darcy hated the cane and had refused to give up her walker.

So AJ had asked Wyatt for help. And Wyatt had done what had to be done.

He’d returned the rental walker.

Darcy had flipped out on him. She’d thrown one of Zoe’s precious potted plants at his head, narrowly missing him, too. Good thing having two sisters had taught him how to duck quickly.

Then Darcy had done another of her vanishing acts.

Wyatt had just been grateful for the silence.

This morning, she’d mysteriously been back in her own bed, and had gotten up without any prompting, not getting irritated until he told her she still wasn’t getting the walker back.

Tough love, her doctor had told him.

Tough love, AJ had told him.

Bullshit, she’d told everyone. But after ten full minutes of silence, followed by ten full minutes of chewing him out, she’d made her way out the front door, slamming it so hard she’d rattled the molars in the back of his head. She’d used the hated cane to get to the truck, bitching the whole time.

Now she shoved the truck door open.

“Wait for me,” he said, wanting to help her navigate the exit from the truck, but by the time he came around the front for her, she’d slid out of the vehicle.

For a moment she wobbled and her knees seemed to give out. He reached for her but she thrust her hand out in a don’t-you-dare gesture.

So he watched, feeling helpless and useless, as she clung to the opened truck door, trying to get her balance. With visions of her sliding to the ground and hitting her head on the way down, he had to bite his tongue and shove his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and yanking her upright.

Finally, after a painfully long thirty seconds when it could have gone either way, she grappled and won her balance.

“There,” she said so triumphantly Wyatt felt his throat tighten. “Got it.” She was sweaty and flushed and breathing heavily, and he’d never been so proud of her.

But if he dared say that, she’d probably kill him in his sleep. “Use the fucking cane, Darce,” he said instead.

He expected her to flip him off. Or light into him. Or simply glare at him as she’d been doing since the day of her accident.

Instead, she beamed. “Don’t need it, Wy-Ty, I did it!”

Five painfully long minutes later, she also walked into the front door of Belle Haven by herself. He felt her trembling wildly as he held the door open and knew she was one more step from falling on her face. Fuck tough love, he thought, and reached for her.

“Thank God,” she whispered, flinging her arms around his neck. “I’m about ready to fall on my ass.”

Emily was at the front desk, making flyers with a picture of the dog she’d rescued, who happened to be sitting at her feet covered in bandages, but looking pretty good considering.

Emily’s gaze met his and held for a long beat.

Then the dog at her feet lifted his head and barked.

Peanut startled and nearly fell off the printer. “Bad dog,” the parrot said, feathers ruffled.

Emily looked down at the dog, and Wyatt would have sworn the little guy smiled.

“Oh my goodness,” Emily said with a laugh as she crouched down to love the pup up. “That’s the first peep I’ve heard out of you.”

The dog sat adoringly at her feet and wagged his tail at her. “What did you name him?” he asked.

“I can’t name him,” she said, rising. “He’s not mine.”

Wyatt could’ve told her that once she flashed her smile, anyone and anything could be hers. “What would you name him if you could?”

“Woodrow.” She smiled. “Because he looks so serious.”

Darcy had made herself at home behind the counter and lifted a bag to Emily. “This has your name on it.”

Mike, standing at the counter flipping through files, lifted his head. “Some dude brought it in for you. Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Said you’d know who they were from.”

Emily went still for a beat, and then opened the bag and handed one out to everyone. When she got to Wyatt, he waited until she met his gaze.

“No thanks,” he said.

Oblivious of the odd tension, Mike removed his baseball cap and set it on Woodrow’s head, scratching his ears for him.

Woodrow licked his hand and returned to gazing at Emily like the sun rose and set on her.

Mike added the sunglasses that had been tucked into the collar of his shirt, setting them very carefully on Woodrow’s nose. “Now you look the part,” he told the dog. “Own it, dude.”

Gertie had been sleeping behind Jade’s desk. She lifted her head to see if she was missing anything. Apparently she decided she wasn’t because she went back to sleep.

They all went to work, and it was an insanely busy day. Wyatt took the time to get bitten on the shoulder by a temperamental sheep in the throes of an allergic reaction to a bee sting. During a rare late afternoon lull, Emily cornered him in his office, leaned back against the door she’d closed behind her, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Strip,” she said.

He felt himself start to get hard. He stood up and made to clear off his desk like he had the night before, but she choked out a laugh.

“Not for that,” she said.

“So . . . you just want to look?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I want to see your arm, you’re babying it.”

“I’m not babying shit.”

She laughed again. “Such a man. Drop the shirt, Wyatt.”

He tugged it over his head and lost his glasses in the process. He replaced them and focused in time to see Emily was staring at his chest and abs. “Want to kiss it and make it all better?” he asked.

“Yes.” She visibly shook her herself. “No! You’re insatiable.”

“Pot, meet Kettle.”

She blushed and rolled her eyes as she stepped up close, gasping softly at the bruise on his shoulder. “I could make that sheep a mouth retainer from this impression,” she said, and ran her finger over his skin. “God, Wyatt, she really got you.”

He craned his neck and showed her a red spot on his neck.

“There, too?” she asked in disbelief.

“No, this one’s from the other female in my life,” he said.

She stared at him, and then gasped. “I didn’t—”

He just arched his brow.

“Oh my God,” she said, horrified. “I’m so sorry—”

He set a finger against her lips. “I enjoyed every second of it.”

She dropped her head to his chest and huffed out a soft laugh. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Yeah.”

She lifted her face and studied his. “You don’t look broken up about it.”

“A beautiful, smart woman gets off on me. What’s there to be broken up about?”

“Well,” she said slowly. “For starters, I’m the exact wrong girl for you, you need someone more quiet, someone rooted here in Sunshine like you are.”

He stared at her, the words almost verbatim what Darcy had said not that long ago. “Where did that come from?” he asked, having his suspicions.

“The grapevine, so I can’t cite its origin.”

He bet he could.

“I heard it three different times earlier when I called everyone in town to find out if anyone knew who Woodrow belonged to,” she said.

“Darcy.” He wondered if she realized she’d started calling the dog by a name, but that would have to wait. “Definitely Darcy.”

“She loves you,” Emily said.

“Yeah,” he said. “And so does my mother. And we both know how much that means.”

She didn’t smile. “Do you remember our plan?”

“You and the P word.”

“It was to get to know each other,” she said. “And we were going to not like each other.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Right now?” she asked. “Pretty good.”

He flashed a grim smile. “Ditto.”

“So we’re on the same page. We have no problem,” she said.

“Absolutely not a one,” he agreed.

They stared at each other, and the air crackled. His body did that annoying-as-shit thing where he got hard from just looking at her. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Yes, please,” she said, and threw herself at him.

He caught her. “You know what this means, right?” he asked, hauling her up his body.

She was already panting, taking little nips along his jaw, heading for his mouth. “What?”

“You’re all crazy.”

“Women? Yes, I know.” She got to his mouth.

He met her halfway, tightening his arms around her, pulling her in hard just as his door opened.

Dell and Darcy stood in the doorway.

Both stared at Emily and Wyatt—still shirtless—and had the same brows-up reaction.

“Playing doctor?” Darcy asked.

“Would you believe yes?” Emily asked.

“No,” Darcy said, and turned to Dell, palm out. “I’ll take my fifty now.”

“Christ.” He fished through his wallet and paid up. Then he pointed at Wyatt. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

When they were gone, Wyatt looked at Emily, who had her hands over her face.

“Not good,” she said, and dropped her hands. “We’ve got to get a hold of ourselves.”

“We?”

She closed her eyes. “Okay! It’s me! I know!”

He laughed. “It’s not just you. Not even close.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him, achingly unsure and vulnerable. Shaking his head, a little thrown off by how much he wanted to see her smile again, he stepped into her. “Not even close,” he repeated softly.

“This has to stop,” she said, just as softly, her big eyes entreating and desperate. “We can do it,” she said, and he wondered which of them she was trying to convince.

“Look, I’ll show you,” she said, and pulled out her phone. She accessed her calendar and shoved it under his nose. “Three hundred and twenty-three days left.”

“That’s wrong,” he said. “You haven’t updated. It’s three hundred and twenty-two, see?”

She stared at the screen and blinked. “Huh. I guess I forgot.”

He wondered if she realized that was a sign, and then decided by the annoyance on her face that it wasn’t a sign at all.

Which made him the crazy one. Shit. He’d been here, right here in this place before, and he’d promised himself not to do this again.

Emily was looking into his face. “You look like you just had an epiphany.”

Yes, and it wasn’t all that pleasant. He shook his head.

She opened her mouth to say something but Mike called for her from down the hall.

With one last long look at Wyatt, she left his office.

When Darcy poked her head in five minutes later, Wyatt was still standing in the exact same spot.

She barely reached his shoulder, to which she gave a good shot with her fist, right where he’d been bitten.

“Jesus,” he said, rubbing it. “What the hell’s your problem?”

“You,” she said, and did it again.

He caught her fist in his hand. “Knock your shit off, Darcy. I don’t have time for your games.”

“Even if I give you a hint?” she asked, and leaned in close. “You’re an idiot.”

He let out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Go away.”

“Can’t. It’s my job to give you your messages. And this one’s from me. You got screwed by Caitlin. She left you for a job, and you don’t even get to be mad about it because it was noble and all that bullshit. But that didn’t negate your feelings for her, did it? You’d have eventually married her, and then it would have been worse. You didn’t deserve that, Wyatt, honest to God you didn’t, and there’s not a person in Sunshine that appreciates how she treated you in the end. But if you let yourself fall for Emily—another woman who isn’t the right one for you, you will get exactly what you deserve. Disappointment—again.”

“I’m sorry,” came a quiet voice.

Wyatt and Darcy both turned to face a pale Emily standing in the doorway. She bit her lower lip. “I really didn’t mean to hear that.”

Darcy blew out a breath. “No, I’m the sorry one. Don’t pay any attention to me, I’m crazy. Everyone knows that.”

“No, it’s true,” Emily said.

“That I’m crazy?” Darcy asked.

“That if Wyatt falls for me, he’d be disappointed. It’s a recurring theme in my life.”

Shit. Wyatt started toward her, but she put up a hand. “No, we really don’t need to discuss.”

Mike had come into the front room behind her, a file in his hand. Behind him was Woodrow. Around the dog’s neck was a badge on a braided lanyard, just like the ones all the staff wore. It had his pic, name, and addy—Belle Haven– just like a real one.

Emily took the file from Mike’s fingers, bent to kiss Woodrow on the head, and vanished into an exam room.

Woodrow and Mike vanished.

“Nicely done,” Wyatt said to his sister. “You really outdid yourself there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” he said. “It’s my fault, anyway.” He pushed past her and went after Emily.

She was with Mr. Myers and his thirteen-year-old golden retriever Buddy. “I’ve got this,” she said without looking at him, nose buried in the file.

Wyatt smiled at Mr. Myers.

Mr. Myers smiled back. He was somewhere between eighty and two hundred years old. He hadn’t worn his teeth today. Wyatt was counting on the fact that he wasn’t wearing his hearing aid, either. The guy hated both with a wellknown passion. “Emily—”

“Dr. Stevens,” she corrected. “And I’m a little busy right now.”

“I just want to be clear about why you’re upset.”

“Shh!” She slid a quick look at Mr. Myers.

“He can’t hear you. He can’t hear anything without his hearing aid.”

She relaxed marginally but emotion still sparked from her. “I’m trying to be professional,” she whispered.

“Professional?” he asked. “Is that what we’ve been doing?”

She flicked another glance Mr. Myers’s way, found him sitting there humming to himself, and then glared at Wyatt. “We both know exactly what we’ve been doing. Fun and games.”

“Which we both agreed to,” he reminded her.

“Yeah.” Her eyes shuttered. “Which apparently doesn’t include discussing your ex with me. Which doesn’t matter anymore since we’re done as of now. So if you’ll go on your merry way, I have a patient.”

Wyatt looked at Mr. Myers. “Excuse us a moment.”

“Eh?” Mr. Myers cupped a hand over his ear. “Sorry, sonny boy, I forgot my hearing aid.”

“Hall,” Wyatt said to Emily. “Now.”

“As lovely an offer as that is,” she said. “No, thank you.”

Wyatt held up a finger to Mr. Myers, signaling that they needed a moment. Wrapping his fingers around Emily’s arm, turning her to face him, he pulled her into the far corner.

“Back off.” She held up a syringe. “I’m about to express Buddy’s anal glands.”

Buddy let out a sigh and dropped his head to his paws.

“According to his file,” Emily said, “he needs sedation first.” The syringe got a little closer to Wyatt’s face. “Get your hand off me or I’ll treat you instead.”

He paused and resisted the urge to smile. “Did you just threaten to sedate me and then express my anal glands?” He leaned in a little closer so that their noses were nearly touching. “Because I’ve gotta tell you, sweetness, I’m all for getting adventurous, but payback’s a bitch.”

She gasped and reared back, her gaze flying to Mr. Myers.

Mr. Myers smiled at her.

She gave him a shaky smile, blew out a breath, sent Wyatt a nasty look before heading back to the table. “We’re done discussing this,” she said. “All of it.”

“All of what exactly? Spell it out for me.”

“Everything, starting with that night in Reno. It’s done, over, and finished. We’re clearly not suited. In any way.”

“Funny,” he said. “That’s not what you said last time you had your tongue in my mouth.”

“Shh!” Her gaze whipped to Mr. Myers, who was studying the ceiling. “And that’s exactly what I mean,” she whispered furiously. “Listen, I realize this is my own fault, not yours. I’ve put out mixed signals. I’m not going to do that anymore. It’s not good for either of us. We’re done, Wyatt. We’ve got to be done.”

“Maybe you’d better put that in writing,” he said, feeling his own temper rise, hating how easily she said that. “And keep a copy on you, since you tend to forget every single time you jump me.”

“Fine,” she said through her teeth. “Now if you’ll be so kind as to vacate my patient’s room. I think I can handle this procedure by myself.”

“Squeezing a guy’s balls? Yeah, you got that one down.”