Chapter Three

Dace opened her mouth to ask what a prospect was, just in time for Tate’s lips to swoop down and drift across her mouth. He nibbled her upper lip, touching her teeth gently with his tongue, and shifted his head to the left as he moved his head to more closely align his mouth with hers. He tasted like warm, vital man, and just a hint of chocolate.

It had been so long since Dace had kissed a man she felt stunned. On the heels of that emotion came the realization that Tate was one of the best kissers she had ever embraced. His mouth was soft but insistent, arousing her tired limbs, and kindling a bonfire in her belly. Scalding heat danced through her veins as she wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her body up against his, writhing against his muscled body, grinding herself against his abdomen. She felt the hardness between his legs, and she almost reached to caress his stiff penis with her hand before pulling back.

He groaned softly. “Jesus Christ, Dace…let’s take this inside.” Panting, he pulled away from her, and slid his arm around her shoulders, urging her toward a secluded stairway at the side of the bar building. “Babe, come upstairs with me.”

She dropped her head back on her neck with a groan. “We can’t. You’ve got Marlon Brando and the Wild Bunch in your bar, and I’ve got a broken car I have to see to.” She wanted to—she had rarely wanted anything so much—but she had always been the responsible, organized person who never missed a detail, who followed through on commitments and put everyone else’s needs first. That’s why she was such a stellar doctor.

And right now she would have traded everything for a few moments with Tate above his bar. Hell, the backseat of her Honda—provided she could get Fred to go get some coffee or something—would serve nicely. She knew her body, and it had been a very long time since she’d had anything between her legs other than her battery-operated-boyfriend. Anything with a heartbeat, anyway. Her arousal was off the charts—she couldn’t explain medically or anatomically how a man she barely knew turned her on so strongly and so quickly. At the moment, she was on fire; a climax was a light touch away.

Denying her personal physical satisfaction only thickened the icing on her poop cupcake of a day. She rarely cursed; but if there was ever a swear-worthy situation, this qualified. “Fuck…”

Tate managed a smile, even though it was through gritted teeth. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. C’mere.”

He grabbed her hands and dragged her around to the far side of Fred’s wrecker, then pulled her back in his arms. Here they were concealed from the curious eyes of the two men watching over the cycles. Behind them stretched a mostly empty parking lot, and the windowless concrete walls of nearby buildings.

“Fred. How about dinner on me?” Tate’s voice sounded composed, but Dace was close enough she saw the strain reflected on his face.

Fred poked his head out of her Honda’s front window. “Right now?”

“Yeah. Right now. Tell Jack whatever you want him to make and tell him to put it on my tab.” Tate dropped his head and nuzzled Dace’s neck, running his hands down over her hips. Dace swore she could feel her eyes roll back in her head. What the hell was she doing?

Tate traced the delicate rim of Dace’s ear with his nose, and murmured in her ear. “Let go. Be in the moment, babe. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Grasping at her last fully functioning brain cell, she moved her head back and looked up at him, seeing the blazing heat and arousal in his eyes. “Let go? I just met you and I don’t even know you.” With regret in every step, she slid her feet back, moving slowly away from his embrace. “We need to stop this right now, before we do something stupid. Thanks for the phone, and, uh…everything else.”

Before she had gotten half a step away, he grasped her arms and pulled her back against him. “Who says it would be stupid? Relax. You know who I am, and you know what I do. I run a bar that I happen to own. My business card is in your pocket.”

He smiled at her and she swore her panties got even wetter. “I can make you feel really good if you let me.” His nose drifted around her earlobe and down her neck again. “You smell like lemons and soap and warm, sexy skin. And Dace, if we had time, I’d like to know how every inch of your skin smells, and how it tastes. I want to see what is under these scrubs.”

“You’re a guy. You have to say us getting intimate wouldn’t be stupid, or you lose your membership card in the man club.” Pushing up against him was like being pressed against a wall; a really sexy wall with a seriously buff body and a mouth made for slow, sensuous kissing. He was implacable, immovable, and irritating—not to mention protective.

And hot. Completely and utterly hot.

“My membership card in the man club?” Gently he traced her lips with his index finger. “Hate to disappoint you, but I wouldn’t belong to any club that would have me as a member.”

“Quoting Groucho Marx isn’t furthering your cause.”

“And here I thought humor was an aphrodisiac.” He chuckled. “Dace, you kiss like an angel, and I’ve already told you I want to see you again. You’ve got my number, so the ball’s in your court.” He nudged his hardness against her hip, as he nodded at her erect nipples straining through her scrubs. “There’s attraction on both sides here, unless I need my eyes checked.”

He traced a finger across her collarbone, and down the neck of her scrubs into her cleavage, making her shudder. “Let go, babe. Just for a few minutes.”

She gaped at him, her mouth open. Thoughts whirled through her head, arousal and sheer lust fogging her brain.

To let go…just for a few minutes…

No patients, no nurses, no ringing cell phones, no decisions to make, no paperwork, no intercom pages…

She couldn’t help it; she nodded.