Kat Cantrell

Dreams & Desires


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but I wasn’t in it. It happened so fast, there was no time to move the patients, so, along with the rest of the staff I stayed on the ward.”

      “That was very brave.”

      “No.” She shook her head. “I was terrified. It was the longest five minutes of my life.”

      “You were terrified but you did it anyway. You put the lives of those kids before your own. That’s the definition of bravery.”

      The compliment, coming from him, made her heart go pitter-pat. Why did he have to be so nice? And so ridiculously handsome? Did the man have a single negative attribute? Other than being extremely stubborn. But to be fair she was guilty of that, too. He turned into her subdivision and took a right onto her street.

      “It’s the third house on the left.”

      “You know, I’ve learned more about you tonight than in the past three months,” Parker said.

      “There isn’t much to know. The tornado aside, I don’t lead a very exciting life.”

      “Excitement is highly overrated. And believe me, I’m speaking from experience. I love the slower pace here. The people are so different, so much more laid-back. For the most part. It’s exactly what I needed.”

      It was all about perception, she supposed, because for her this was just normal. But she was sure that moving from Royal to somewhere like Dallas, or even New York City, would be a jarring change of pace. But she never would. She was a country girl at heart and that would never change.

      He pulled into the driveway and the automatic outdoor lights switched on, illuminating the exterior of her aunt’s sprawling colonial. “This is nice.”

      “Thanks. It’s pretty much identical to the old one, just a little more modern.”

      “It’s a lot of house for two people.”

      “My aunt has out-of-town guests frequently, so she likes the extra space.” She gathered her purse and gloves and said, “Thanks for the ride. And dinner.”

      “I’ll help you with your body,” he said, shutting off the car.

      She blinked. Oh, man, if he only knew the things she wanted him to do to her body. Sexy, tantalizing things...

      Uh-oh, was she drooling a little again...?

      She must have looked confused, because he said, “In the trunk. The body bags.”

      Oh, right, she would have completely forgotten and left them there. “I can get them,” she said.

      “Nonsense, I’ll help.” He popped the trunk open and got out of the car. She met him around back.

      “Did you really just say nonsense?”

      “Isn’t that how people talk in Texas?”

      “If you’re eighty. And a woman.”

      “My bad,” he said, but he was grinning. Did the man ever stop smiling? No one should be that happy that much of the time.

      She reached for the bags but he snatched them up first. Darn it, the last thing she wanted was to let him into her house. She had the feeling that once she did, it would be near impossible to get him back out the door.

      “I’ve got it,” she said, but he was already heading up the walk. Her exasperated breath crystalized in the air as she jogged to catch up. She had no choice but to go along with it. And of course there was a small part of her that wanted him in her house. Or maybe not so small.

      “I think you have a hearing problem,” she told him as they walked up the porch steps.

      “No, I hear you just fine,” he said, waiting for her to unlock the front door. “I think what you mean is that I have a listening problem.”

      She laughed; she couldn’t help it. “If I say I’ve got it from here, and it’s been a long day and I’m tired, is there any way I’m going to stop you from coming in?”

      He considered that for several seconds then shook his head. “Probably not. I’ll just make up some lame excuse like needing to use the bathroom and we both know that you’re too polite to say no.”

      He was right. Damn those pesky Southern manners her parents had drilled into her. She couldn’t decide if it was more disturbing or pathetic that she had little to no ability to deny him anything. Like the tornado, he’d blown into her life and had the potential to make a huge mess of things.

      “You could have the decency to look a little less smug,” she said, pushing the door open and letting him inside.

      “Kidding aside, I really would like to discuss Janey’s case,” he said, stepping into the foyer, which led into the open-concept great room and kitchen. “We didn’t get a chance at dinner.”

      As if she would say no to that. Besides, this time he sounded sincere, and less like he was trying to get into her pants.

      She wondered what he would do if she invited him up to her bedroom. There was no point pondering the possibility, as it would never happen. Not in this lifetime anyway. But it was the kind of thing that she liked to think about. When she was alone. Usually in bed. If he was as good as her fantasies...

      No man was as good as the fantasy. She had pretty high standards when it came to casual sex. Her philosophy was simple. Why did she need a man around when she could do it better herself?

      “I have to make an early start in the morning, so you’ve got thirty minutes,” she said, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the coat tree by the door. He did the same, looking even more rumpled than he had at dinner. Since it would be rude not to offer him a beverage—there were those pesky manners again—she said, “I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

      “I’d love one,” he said.

      She gestured to the couch, probably the safest place to confine him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

      She stepped into the kitchen and filled the kettle, then set the burner on high. The stove, like the rest of the kitchen, was a chef’s dream. Major overkill considering neither she nor her aunt liked to cook, but her aunt only bought top-of-the line appliances. She bought top-of-the-line everything.

      Clare grabbed two cups from the cupboard and set them by the stove, then pulled out a box of chamomile tea. “Do you take sugar or honey?” she asked him, bracing herself for some sort of suggestive innuendo, but he didn’t say a word. She turned to him, and realized that he hadn’t answered because he was gone.

      “Where the heck did you go?” she called, and heard him answer from the second floor.

      “Up here.”

      She was fairly sure that his voice was coming from her bedroom. So much for having to actually invite him to her bedroom. He’d found it all on his own.

      Did the man have no boundaries? No shame?

      She should have known. She never should have turned her back on him. Hell, she never should have let him into her house.

      She charged up the stairs to her bedroom. She found him sitting at the foot of her bed, looking around the room. It had been a really long time since she’d had a man under, or even on top of, her covers and he looked damn good there.

      “What the hell, Parker?” she said, realizing, as his name rolled off her tongue, that as long as she had known him she had referred to him as Dr. Reese. This was her first time addressing him by his first name. It felt a little odd, but also kind of natural.

      He flashed her a toothy smile. “Hey there, short stuff.”

      At five-five she was hardly short, but she let it slide. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “You said to make myself comfortable.”

      “I meant on the couch.”

      “But