Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2 (3 page)

“I’ve got to take a break. I’ll be back in two minutes,” he said to Karen. Giving little Addie a tight-lipped smile, he fled to the bathroom, which was in the opposite direction of where Marilyn sat. Thank God. After weeks of stalking the streets, hoping to find her, he now didn’t trust himself to walk past her.

Inside the personal bathroom cubicle, he locked the door and stared at his reflection.
I can’t go back out there
.

And risk not seeing Marilyn again? Not a chance.

The least he had to do was gain some semblance of control. After all, he had four patients to see before he reached chair number six. He couldn’t even think about what he’d say to a woman who yanked at his threads the way she was.

Probably because he’d never encountered one.

Twisting on the faucet, he scooped water into his hands and carefully splashed his hot face. He ran through the rest of the patients’ cases in his head. First little Addie, then a patient with occluded incisors and narrow palate, another with reduced FMPA, and—shudder—a thumb-sucker.

Four cases until I can hear her speak
.

She couldn’t possibly have a voice to go with that body. He imagined a high-pitched, nasal voice like Minnie Mouse with big tonsils.

But his underused libido revved even at the thought of her using a voice like that. Hell, revved might be mild. He owned a race car with less engine than his body was experiencing.

Back in the patient room, Addie had started crying, and Karen was trying to comfort her. The first patient’s mother was signing paperwork. And Marilyn… Brant scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, she was prettier than when he’d left her two minutes ago.

At his entrance, she glanced up. And their gazes clashed—caught, clung, what-the-hell-ever he wanted to call it. Lightning struck, and his heart surged with a heat he didn’t recognize and could put no name to.

In that instant, he realized her eyes were definitely dark green. Prettier than Marilyn’s cornflower blue. Brant had always been a sucker for a green-eyed girl.

A heartbeat throbbed between them as they continued to look at each other.

She tore her gaze away…then snapped it right back to his as if she couldn’t bear to stop looking.

Aggh, he was a dead man. His stomach clenched, and he felt the intense stirrings of body parts that didn’t live in his boxers.

“Addie, here’s Dr. Foxfire now. He’ll explain why you won’t be allowed to eat gummy candies, nacho chips or popcorn while you’re wearing braces. I promise you won’t miss them very much and will find plenty of good snacks to replace them.” Karen’s voice broke through Brant’s excitement, and he finally pivoted toward chair number two, though it took a supreme act of will.

Taking a seat, he trained his attention on the little girl. Tears streaked her freckled face. These kids seemed to get younger and younger. Most were referred to his practice by their family dentist. This kid couldn’t be more than eight.

“Hi, Addie. I’m Dr. Foxfire. What seems to be the trouble?”

The child began to pour out all her woes in a tear-filled voice. In the meantime, Brant was certain he felt Marilyn’s steamy gaze on him.

Don’t look. Can’t look
.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was forty years old and a professional, not some raw-boned adolescent who’d never set eyes on a woman with a full ass and amazing tits. Yet, that’s exactly how he felt, because it was that look in her eyes and the feeling of utter protectiveness that spurred it in him.

Fixing his attention on his patient, he soothingly spoke to Addie and her mother about the process of fitting her with her expander, which would widen the roof of her mouth. As he fitted the appliance, he talked to Addie about how she’d look with the braces she’d get in a month. Then Karen wooed her with the prospect of changing her rubber band colors on her braces every week, and the tears vanished.

He sighed with relief. Stealing a quick glance at Marilyn, he found her staring at him sidelong. Fighting her attraction? It was too much to hope for.

Trouble was she may have been married. She had a son, right? Of course, that meant little these days. Everyone was a single parent. Only one way to find out if she was married, and that was to peek at her left hand.

If he could tear his gaze away from her liquid eyes, pink pout or the straining button between her breasts, he might be able to see her hand.

With Addie calmed, Brant moved on to the next patient. Somehow he managed to run through the spiel and adjust the appliances already in this child’s mouth without acting like a fool.

Still, his mind galloped ahead to the time when he could reach out and clasp the hand of the woman who for weeks he’d ached to see again.

By the time he reached Marilyn and her son, Brant was afraid he’d be reduced to a gibbering idiot. Maybe he’d add a stutter or a blush, just to give her a really good impression.

Sinking to the last seat, he raised his gaze and met Marilyn’s. Need spiked inside him, a hot brand on his soul. Suddenly, he wanted to hear her talk, learn her dreams. Hell, he didn’t even know her name.

“I’m Dr. Brant Foxfire.” He extended a hand to her son first. The boy gave a smile and nod, taking his hand with a strong grip that spoke of his character.

“Drake Graff.”

Brant squeezed his hand. Then it was time for his beautiful mother. Reaching across the teen’s body, he held Marilyn’s gaze as she slipped her hand into his.

Warm tingles shot up his arm and into his shoulder.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hayley Graff.”

He nearly closed his eyes to the tune of her voice. Musical and lilting, she had a whiskey voice that a man just wanted to take to bed and listen to all night. Especially if she was a dirty talker. Or she begged.

God, he couldn’t think about that right now.

He held her gaze longer than necessary, even took a leap and smoothed his thumb over the crest of hers. A ragged breath left her.

“So,” he said, reluctantly releasing her, “what do we have going on here?” He lowered the dental chair in order to peer into Drake’s mouth. Fuck, his teeth were a mess.

But Brant hadn’t noticed Hayley’s. He’d been too entrenched in her deep green eyes. They were like pools in the forest, soft and open to a new world.

“It’s going to take a long time to correct his teeth, isn’t it?” she asked, leaning forward on her stool. Her top pulled tighter across her breasts, granting Brant the sweetest, most tormenting view he’d seen since he’d sat down with his first
Playboy
.

Her cleavage was tight—could grip a man’s fingers—or cock—to perfection. And her swollen globes begged for his tongue.

Brant glanced up at her. “Uh…there’s a lot of crowding. It’s going to be a process of spreading his jaw to accommodate his teeth. Then we’ll straighten them out. But the newest technology allows for a pretty fast time frame. We’re probably looking at nine months from start to finish.”

“Ugh,” Drake grunted.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t dig into homecoming next year. I want those perfect homecoming pictures every mother proudly displays on her wall.”

“Really, Mom.” Drake rolled his eyes.

She shot her son a smile, and finally Brant was able to see her teeth. As a specialist, he always looked at teeth. Sometimes he’d mentally reconstruct people’s smiles. But Hayley’s was perfect.

And not because she had perfect teeth. In fact, the left front one slightly overlapped the other, giving her such a charming look, he would never consider touching her mouth. Well, other than to kiss her.

He began to explain the orthodontic process to Drake, holding up a mirror so the boy could see what Brant discussed. And Hayley leaned closer and closer across her son.

“Mom, you’re digging your elbow into my thigh!”

She jerked upright, a pink flush covering her high cheekbones. “Sorry.”

Brant stared into her eyes for a moment. Could Drake hear the pulsation of the electrical force field around Brant and his mother? Could the whole office?

She covered Drake’s arm with her hand—a hand with smooth skin and slender fingers, devoid of nail polish, but traces of paint lived around her cuticles.

And she wore no ring.

Brant released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He wrangled with the urge to stroke her bare fingers again and again, letting his touch travel up her arm and work its way under her rolled-up sleeve to the crease of her elbow.

He wanted to learn every hidden part of her, but the caress would solidify in his mind that he had a chance with her.

How to ask for a date? Seeing her outside the orthodontics practice was a must.

“How often will we need to come in?” she asked.

He met her gaze squarely, wanting nothing more than to steal away with her, far from the prying eyes of employees, patients and parents. “Once a week for the first six weeks, and then we can back that down to once a month. Anyone can bring Drake in—a friend, father…”

Drake snorted. “Fat chance of that happening.”

Ah, so it was like that. Maybe a deadbeat dad who left Hayley to support and care for Drake on her own.

Again, that need to protect and care for Hayley walloped him right in the gut like a kick from a bucking bronco.

“Okay, Drake,” she murmured. “We’ll make arrangements. My schedule is pretty flexible.”

“What do you do?” Brant asked.

“I’m the furniture refinisher at Anecdote.”

He felt the corners of his mouth tipping up. He pictured her all too well against the antiques and flea market finds of the upscale junk shop downtown. Suddenly, he had a hankering for a new piece of furniture for his home. Especially knowing she’d laid hands on it.

Now that he knew where she worked, he might be able to get a minute alone with her and hopefully ask her out. Then he’d be able to lay his hands on her, reel her in by that tiny waist and taste those lips.

“That’s great. Not a lot of people work in that craft anymore.”

She smiled, genuine warmth radiating from her. “It’s rewarding, and all that sanding helps to work out the frustrations.” At this, a small crease formed between her brows.

He wanted to pluck her off her chair, settle her on his lap and make her confide her worries.
I can think of a few other ways to alleviate stress, darlin’
.

Again, lust pounded his veins. He hooked his ankle over his knee to hide his arousal, which threatened at his zipper, demanding exit.

“And payment…?” Was that a quaver he detected in her voice?

Of course. If there was a deadbeat dad involved, money would be tight. But that was evident when her bank card was declined.

“We have several payment plans. They’ll speak with you at the front desk about them.”

“So when will we begin?”

Oh, we’ve already begun
.

He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “I’d like to see Drake in here next week, if possible.”

Hayley nodded, and the long rope of her hair slithered over her shoulder. “That can happen.”

But I hope to see you later today
.

There didn’t seem to be anything left to say, though Brant had no desire to move away from chair number six. He could sit here all day and listen to her musical voice.

Drake spoke up. “Thank you, Dr. Foxfire. And I promise not to cry about the ‘no gummy candy’ rule.”

Brant laughed out loud.

Hayley’s eyes took on a different light. Was she as affected by him as he was her? Or had he imagined those currents between their gazes?

He shook Drake’s hand again. “That’s good to hear. I hate to see tears.” When he gazed into Hayley’s eyes, the green depths glinted with those moist droplets they’d just spoken of.

Concern wove through him. He opened his mouth, prepared to ask if she was all right even if it overstepped his bounds. But before he could speak, she gained her feet and made a show of precisely placing her purse strap over her shoulder.

“We’ll be seeing you soon, Doctor. Thank you for your time.”

As she and Drake crossed the big room to the main desk, Brant remained seated. The curves twitching away from him ignited his desires. But the tears he’d spotted in her beautiful eyes had moved something in his heart—something he hoped he could further nurture.

As soon as the door closed behind her, he grabbed her file, unable to wait another minute. He’d dig up her phone number and address right now.

Thirty seconds later, he felt his blood pressure rise as he laid eyes on the phone number and address for Anecdote. He slapped the file shut and stared at the wall.

What reason would she have for giving her work information rather than personal?

Fuck. What was wrong with her? Had she really just teared up in there over the kindness she saw in the orthodontist? Kindness she’d thought she’d seen, she corrected herself. Her judgment of men was so far out of whack, it had its own gravitational pull. Unfortunately, that pull typically affected her, and she found herself immersed in the lives of loser men.