Summer's Temptation (30 page)

Justin nodded, then grabbed a handlebar for leverage, lifted himself off the floor, and settled into a seat. He usually put up a stink over visiting medical, but not today. Besides, they’d all seen the mast knock the crap out of him. He ran his hands down his face and stifled a groan. They’d seen more than a piece of wood clobber him; they’d witnessed his abilities.

Ty finished securing the boy’s father and sat down next to Justin. “I told you to watch the mast.”

“I had an unconscious guy on my back and a twenty foot wave hovering over me.” He snorted. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“You’re a reckless son of a bitch. You need to keep your eyes open.”

Even over the pain of his smoldering ribs, he felt his body tense. “Did you take any pictures?”

“I just want to know why the water miraculously calmed when the ship rolled.”

“Pictures or not?”

“Not.”

Justin relaxed. For another day, he wouldn’t be deemed the freak of the Coast Guard.

“Pact with the devil?” Ty asked.

“Something like that.” Only he’d had no choice in the matter. He’d been born into this pact. With a god.

Mandy’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stepped inside the bathroom stall and locked the door. With restless fingers, she pulled off her top and hung the pink garment on the hook by its collar. Her fingertips fumbled over her bra clasp twice before she finally unlatched it, slipped it off, and hung the strap over her shirt, the lavender lace cups dangling daintily next to her nurse’s top.

She stifled a disgusted groan. Stripping in a bathroom stall during her lunch break was ridiculous, but she’d never be able to focus on her patients with worry eating at her mind. After a steadying breath, she lifted her arm high over her head and massaged her right breast.

The bathroom door clinked as it opened. She froze. The sound of a woman singing in Spanish echoed off the tile walls. Even though a metal door separated her from the unwanted visitor, she felt as if she were standing naked on a New York sidewalk during rush hour. She wrapped her arms around her chest and peeked through the tiny slit between the stall and the door. A blur of purple fabric danced next to the sinks, the cleaning lady wiping up droplets of water and splatters of soap.

Mandy gnawed on her bottom lip. She should put her clothes back on and walk out, but every second she delayed the exam, her stomach knotted tighter. If she didn’t do it now, she’d just have to come back and finish later. Besides, Lori was waiting for her in the hospital cafeteria and would come looking for her if she took too long.

She sat on the toilet and lifted her arm over her head again. The tips of her fingers traced a path around her nipple, searching for the lump she’d felt that morning. She poked and prodded until she found the dense mass, a ball the size of her pinky nail and the texture of a frozen pea. She massaged it as if she could force it to crumble into oblivion, but it didn’t disappear.

“Thursday,” she whispered.

In two days, she had a mammogram scheduled, but that seemed like an eternity given the pebble of flesh beneath her fingers. She thought about calling and demanding an earlier appointment, but she’d done that before and her suspicious lump had turned out to be nothing.

She was probably just being paranoid, but as she ran her finger across the glossy pink scar that bisected her left breast, she wasn’t so sure. A year ago, cancer had almost stolen her life. Every day since her diagnosis, she’d been terrified it would come back and finish her off. The lump only added fuel to her panic.

“Whatcha doin’?” Lori’s voice carried over the stall.

Mandy shrieked and covered her breasts, mashing her palms to her chest. She peered up, her mouth agape.

Lori’s chin rested on the top of the stall divider, and her eyes were wide with alarm. “Sheesh, woman. I was just checking on you.”

“Have you ever heard of privacy?” Mandy grumbled.

“I was worried about you.” Lori’s gaze swept over Mandy’s bare shoulders, then down to her cupped breasts. “Apparently for good reason.”

Mandy listened for the singing she’d heard moments before, but all was quiet. “Is the janitor still in here?” she whispered, her cheeks flaming hot from embarrassment.

Lori shrugged, then disappeared, apparently having hopped off the toilet. “Open your stall. I’m comin’ in.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Are you seriously going to make me crawl on the floor to get in there? That is so gross.”

Mandy groaned as she unlocked the door. Dear Lord, what must the cleaning lady think of all this? And what if there were others in the bathroom?

Lori slid inside and quickly shut the door. Her face completely serious, she said, “Let me feel the lump.”

“No way!” Mandy paused for a moment, her brow furrowing. “How did you know?”

Lori rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re waiting for an illicit rendezvous, what else would you be doing topless in a bathroom?” She inched her outstretched hand closer. “Now let me feel it.”

Mandy shook her head frantically. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Fine.” Lori peeled off her scrub top and hung it over Mandy’s. “If it makes you more comfortable, we’ll both get naked.” She slipped off her bra, revealing perky, apple-sized breasts with large mocha-colored nipples.

“You’ve lost your mind.” Mandy clutched her breasts so hard they ached, at least, the real one ached. The reconstructed one was numb as always.

“We’ve seen each other naked before. What’s the big deal?”

That had been
before
her surgery. Other than nurses and doctors, no one had seen her topless since her mastectomy. “It’s embarrassing now.”

“You don’t have to take your hands off your breasts. Just give me the general vicinity, and I’ll find it.”

Mandy took a deep breath through her nose and blew it out through her mouth. “Will you get your boobs out of my face if I let you do this?”

“Yep.” With the satisfaction of victory written on her face, Lori flexed her fingers. “Now let me cop a feel.”

Mandy reluctantly dropped her hands and watched with embarrassment when Lori’s gaze locked on her mutilated breast.

The little ‘v’ between Lori’s eyebrows deepened. “I’ve never seen a reconstructed breast before.” Her eyes seemed to get bigger the longer she stared, and her frown grew more pronounced.

Mandy cringed at Lori’s expression. She ran her finger across the red scar, fighting the urge to cover herself. “It’s hideous.”

“No.” Lori cleared her throat. “Actually, your surgeon did a good job. The nipple looks real.” She leaned down to take a closer look, then peered up sheepishly. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“We’re two topless women in a three-by-four space. I don’t think it gets more uncomfortable than that.”

Lori continued to study Mandy’s breast, her head cocking to one side. “Is it sensitive? Your nipple?”

“Not a bit. It’s a tattoo.”

Lori nodded and straightened. “Okay, time to feel that lump.”

Mandy pointed to the spot just below her real nipple. “It’s not very big, but it’s hard.”

Lori gently massaged the area with her fingertips. “It feels fibrous.” She placed her hand on her own breast and massaged. “Actually, I’ve got some pea sized lumps, too.” She thrust her perky breast toward Mandy and took her hand. “Here, feel.”

Mandy jerked back. “No. Really, that’s okay.”

“Feel,” Lori demanded, her expression suddenly fierce. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Mandy held her breath as Lori guided her fingers toward the outside of her nipple. She applied pressure and felt a lump just like the one in her own breast.

“I think we have lumpy boobs,” Lori said matter-of-factly. “Some women do.” She smiled brightly. “Feel better?”

Mandy blinked a few times, surprised that her anxiety had actually eased a bit, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment of her best friend feeling her up, or from their identical lumps. “I do feel better. But if you ever make me touch your boob again, I’m breaking off our friendship.”

Lori shrugged as she pulled their shirts and bras from the hook. “Fair enough.”

They dressed quickly and exited the stall. The janitor had left, but a woman was washing her hands in one of the sinks. In the mirror, Mandy saw her raise an eyebrow at them. They politely ignored the woman while they washed their own hands.

“Kirsten and I are going to Moe’s tonight,” Lori said as she grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. “Wanna come?”

Mandy stared at her pallid reflection, pondering Lori’s invitation. “What if Ty’s there?” She pinched her cheeks, trying to force color into her skin.

Lori sighed dramatically. “You can’t stay holed up in your apartment forever because of that jerk. Besides, we can go somewhere else.”

Mandy threw her paper towel into the trash, and they headed out the door. “I think I’d rather stay home.”

“I’m giving you one more month of moping. After that, you’re going out… even if I have to drag you by your hair.”

Mandy chuckled and ran her hands through her short blond locks. “Then I’ve got nothing to worry about. Thanks to the chemo, there’s hardly anything to grab hold of.”

“You know you’re lucky, right? Most women can’t sport a haircut that short and still look hot. I think it’s your high cheekbones.”

“Of course, I’m lucky.” She jabbed her elbow into Lori’s arm as they strode toward the cafeteria. “I have a friend who let me molest her to make me feel better.”

Lori chuckled. “Dr. Stegnar would’ve paid good money to see that. That pervert’s always staring at our ta-tas.”

Mandy cringed, remembering all too vividly the look on Lori’s face when she’d seen the scar. “He’d have paid to see you, not me.”

“Both of us. And if you don’t get out of this funk soon, I’m taking you to a psychiatrist.”

“I promise I’ll perk up next month, and we can hit the town.”

Lori tossed her an encouraging smile. “I’ll hold you to it.”

God, she hoped she spoke the truth, and things would take a turn for the better next month.

A Knight in Cowboy Boots

by Suzie Quint

Available Now

When Zach McKnight, an irresistible oil rig worker with a thick-as-honey Texas drawl, first pokes into the secrets surrounding the mysterious Maddie Wells, he has no idea that the chance encounter will change his life forever. Maddie Wells is on the run with Jesse, the infant son of her murdered sister. The boy’s father isn’t far behind. He wants his son and is willing to kill to get him. Zach is intrigued from the first moment he sees the dark haired beauty in a hotel, but getting his hard working hands on her delectable body is more easily dreamt than achieved. He gets shot for his trouble, by Maddie no less, and sucked into the web of lies and fear that are her constant companions.

Excerpt:

“S
o what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Maddie laughed. It should have sounded old, trite, and corny, but nothing said in that drawl could sound anything but enchanting to her. Her laughter lit something deep in Mr. East Texas’s dark eyes. She suddenly felt warm. Sitting-in-front-of-a-raging-fire-on-a-cold-winter-night warm. The flutter in her heart moved into the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t tell the bartender, but I’m casing the place to see if I want his job.” Maddie said, keeping her voice conversational. The bartender’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment. He’d no doubt seen this dance often enough.

“Ah, well. Looking for employment. That’s respectable then.” Mr. East Texas nodded sagely. “Though I gotta admit, I was hoping you was here for less reputable reasons.”

“You mean like looking for a man to take me away from all this?” Maddie’s open-handed gesture included the entire bar.

“Even the best watering holes have a long tradition of that sorta thing. Why, my daddy met my mamma in a place a lot like this.”

Maddie fought to keep a grin from breaking out across her face. How long had it been since she’d engaged in light-hearted banter, never mind flirting? It seemed like eons. “Really?”

“Well, maybe there wasn’t as much brass and mirrors. Or the selection of beverages this fine establishment has. And there ain’t no straw on the floor nor fiddle player in the corner . . . ” He looked away as though seeking a fiddle player. “And they had dancin’.” His nostrils narrowed with an indrawn breath. His eyes came back to hers. “Damn. A man oughta take a woman dancin’.”

The flutter in Maddie’s stomach moved lower.

“What kind of dancing do you do to fiddle music?”

“The spirited kind.” He let a beat pass before he continued. “But I think you’re the kinda woman a man takes slow dancin’. Someplace where there ain’t much light, so’s nobody’d see when I kissed you.”

He held her eyes, waiting for her response.

Someone down the bar hollered for Pete’s attention and he moved away. Their audience gone, Maddie swiveled on her barstool to face him straight on.

“What if I didn’t want to be kissed?” she asked, knowing her body language sent a completely different message.

“Why, ma’am . . . ” He leaned slowly closer as he spoke. “I don’t think I’d ask first.” His lips brushed hers lightly. Just a gentle touch, as though she’d been kissed almost in passing. He pulled back, but only a couple of inches. Neither of them had closed their eyes. Maddie swallowed, trying to work up some moisture in her suddenly dry mouth.

“My daddy says sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”

“Does he?” Maddie forced out.

“Oh, yeah.” His tone was heartfelt. “And I think I may need a passel of forgivin’,” he said just before he kissed her again.