And Call Me in the Morning (8 page)

“So what did you get up to last night?” Diana slapped a stack of charts on the counter by Eli's elbow to get his attention. The gambit worked and then some, startling Eli into nearly—nearly—knocking his morning coffee over the edge and into the bank of computers at the nurse's station.

“Nice, Diana.” Eli made sure his java was safe. “Give a guy some warning, would you?”

“Not my style.”

“Granted. Did you want something?” Eli couldn't quite remember what she'd asked. He was in a fog this morning, head crammed with thoughts and memories and phantom touches.

Diana leaned over the counter, elbows on her charts. “I asked where you were last night.”

Eli's pulse sped up. “Excuse me?”

“Holly and I went for tapas, and we decided to play some pool afterwards. We must have called you half a dozen times to see if you wanted to come along. We could have used your unique talents.”

“You mean you wanted me to help you fleece the locals.”

“And?” Diana shrugged, unperturbed. “A girl's got to get her kicks somehow.”

An awful thought occurred to Eli. “Please don't tell me you went to some side-street dive without me.”

“Hey! Have some Chicago pride.”

“Bullshit. I grew up here. You didn't. If you two princesses headed off the beaten track, they'd have wiped the floor with your perky asses.”

“If you'd come, we might have gone somewhere a little more exciting, but no, we played it safe. Wound up in a café eating half our body weight in cheesecake. Then Happy Holly got to go home and jump her husband with the sugar buzz.”

“If that's code for something, I really don't want to know about it.”

Diana relented. “I was worried about you. Sue me.”

“Must have switched my phone off. My mistake; won't happen again.”

Diana's lips thinned out. “Eli, you know better. What if you'd been on call?”

“I wasn't, and I said it won't happen again, Diana.” Eli scooped up his coffee. “Christ. I'm not here even five minutes, and I'm getting harassed. Lay off, would you?”

“Eli?” Diana asked, exuding great, white-knuckled patience. “You really need to get laid.” And with that she was gone in an offended rustling of starched lab coat and White Linen perfume. At least Eli thought it was White Linen. What the hell did he know about perfume, anyway?

Odds were, just about as much as he knew regarding schtupping his closest friend. Which was to say, he didn't have a fucking clue, pardon the expression.

“I'm officially in over my head,” Eli muttered, sipping his coffee. “Fuck me!” He jumped.

“Maybe later.” Zane slipped around Eli and leaned on the counter. Thank God, no nurses or orderlies or candy stripers around to see. He cocked his head. “You look like a thunderhead.”

“You think? You just goosed my ass.”

“You didn't seem to mind last night.” Zane clicked his tongue at Eli and winked at him before reaching for the charts. He flipped the top one open and, reading it, asked, “You're staring at me as if I've committed some unspeakable sin. What?”

Eli rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't help noticing Zane had worn a turtleneck today, and he could see all too clearly in his mind's eye the strawberry of a love bite he'd left over Zane's pulse. Zane fingered it even as Eli watched. Unconsciously? Perhaps so. Made him want to relent, but some things he couldn't do. Not even for Zane.

Christ, he hadn't thought this far. Should have. Last night, the in-versus-out question hadn't even entered his mind.

Mistake.

Zane turned to Eli, laser stare out in force. Eli found he appreciated it far less than usual at this moment. “Either you tell me or face the consequences. Like maybe I don't come over tonight.”

There. That'd give any man impetus to spit it out. “Not at work.” Eli put a sideways step's worth of distance between them. There. He felt better already.

Not so much when he registered the quick flash of hurt on Zane's face. “Not at work?” Zane echoed, taking back that step.

“I'm not joking.”

Zane frowned. “Didn't think you were.” He sighed and stopped. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Trust me.” Zane fingered the side of his neck. Contrary prick. “It's not as big a deal as you're making it out to be. We're all over each other all the time. It's going to look stranger if we suddenly start playing keep-away.”

At least he understood. Eli relaxed a fraction. “I am what I am, Zane.”

“You and Popeye.”

“Regardless.” Eli wished he could rewind and restart this conversation from the beginning. Maybe not let it unravel on him this time. “I'm not sorry,” he said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “Not about what happened. But it's my business. Not anyone else's.”

“Hmm,” Zane said, without elaborating.

Eli waited. No way Zane could hold anything in for long. He'd suddenly started to get a nasty suspicion that that particular aspect of Zane's character might prove problematic. But they were friends above all. Zane would respect that, wouldn't he? Always had before.

Then again, things were changing, weren't they?

Eli closed the distance between them, as he would have two days ago. “Don't get pissed. You knew how I feel about broadcasting my business.”

“Sure I do.” Zane flipped the chart shut. “Here's the thing, Eli. It's not just your business. It's mine too.”

Eli's words escaped him. Damn. The truth of that couldn't be denied. He should have thought about this. Really, really should have. “Zane—”

Zane had already moved on, the clouds past the sun they overshadowed, leaving blue skies behind. Somehow Eli didn't buy it. “Relax, don't worry. We'll work it out together. That's the deal, right?”

Eli's breath escaped him in a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Zane said, proving Eli's suspicion that this wasn't over yet. “Working it out doesn't mean sweeping it under the rug. I've got a theory, and you're going to listen to it because I am your friend as much as you are mine and you know how
I
am too.”

Eli couldn't say no to that. Fair was fair. He closed his mouth and gestured for Zane to have out with it.

“Here's what I think,” Zane said, slowly and thoughtfully, gazing off into space at his dozen different options and selecting what he wanted. “You've always been private because, frankly, the stuff you keep to yourself isn't that great. Teasing, harassment, all that joyful material. You've never had anything particularly good to keep to yourself before.”

Damn him.

“So just think about it,” Zane said. He clapped Eli on the shoulder, same as he always would have. Friends and nothing more. Well, if you didn't count the quick rub of his thumb in a less than platonic way. “Until then, I'll be here.” His grin emerged, impish and playful, making Eli feel better about himself.

Eli covered Zane's hand with his own, roughly, fast, but enough. He didn't see this changing anytime soon. Or could he? He didn't know. Seemed like confusion was fast becoming the status quo. “I'm not going anywhere either,” he said, not sure if he meant it as a warning of how things would always be or a promise of how they could alter. He couldn't change who he was.

Or could he? Hadn't he already?

“Dr. Novia? Oh God, there you are.” An intern, spattered with the effluvia one inevitably got spattered with working the ER, clattered down the hall in a beeline toward them, her eyes too wide and the classic new-kid panic etching white lines on her face. “There's a situation—”

“Calm down. Breathe. I'm on it.” Zane took her by the shoulder to steady her. “Right behind you. Okay?”

Eli had noticed before how Zane was hands-on with everyone. The reminder at this present time helped and allowed him to give Zane a gentle push, just like he would have—before. “I think that's your cue.”

“Duty calls,” Zane agreed. He hesitated only long enough to give Eli a look that felt oddly just like a kiss, and a grin. “It's funny, you know?”

“What is?”

Zane shrugged. “Things keep slipping out of my hands. Never mind. Rain check for now. We'll get back to this later. Deal?”

Eli couldn't say no to him. “Deal.”

The kiss in Zane's gaze grew hotter, almost making Eli blush. “I'm counting on it.”

Zane made good his escape, his easy lope keeping pace with the frantic intern. Eli stayed put and watched him go. He propped his elbow on the counter, scrubbed his hand over his face, and shook his head. If he didn't want this so much, he'd reconsider. What was done, was done. And he didn't regret it.

He didn't have a clue how to handle it, but he guessed that was part of the journey.

Eli looped his stethoscope around his neck, secured his coffee, and started walking. He'd come in early as per his usual when he had a lot on his mind. Time still before he started his rounds, time he'd planned on using in the hospital library. A doctor, especially someone barely newer to the field than that poor intern, couldn't research enough if he wanted to keep up with the pack.

Thing was, at this juncture Eli had the feeling there were other things he needed to concentrate on more. Like last night.

Eli wanted to stop, close his eyes, and remember. He didn't, though that didn't stop his memories from playing themselves out in Technicolor flashes deep in his head. Who knew it could be that good? Holding a cock wasn't what he'd ever figured would flip his switch. Hammer on his switch.

Normally, coming before the game had even started would put a damper on things. No pun intended. This time Eli couldn't say he was too sorry. Any further and—hell. Who knew how bad it could have been?

Handjobs, those might not be too hard to figure out. Blowjobs? Christ. Eli didn't have a fucking clue except for vague notions about not using teeth.