Private Practice (Private Pleasures 1)

“I’d rather not say.”

“Of course not.” Sighing, he stared at the toes of his boots and tried to get his head around her proposal. “Let me sum this up, just to be sure I understand. You agree not to notify the sheriff if I promise to be your sex tutor?” He glanced up at her.

When she nodded, he laughed. “That’s pretty damn straightforward, Doc. Certainly strips all the silly games and romance out of the mix.”

“Oh, come on. How is my proposal any different from you and Lou Ann hooking up at Rawley’s on a random Friday night? You want it, she wants it, and off you go. You both know darn well the evening doesn’t end with a bended-knee proposal. It’s about enjoying the physical experience and then moving on. I’m suggesting the same thing, except without the drinks, small talk, or the risk of getting your ass shot off, and… ”

Her words faded and her captain-of-the-debate-team expression shifted to a look he couldn’t readily identify, but nonetheless made him feel like a jerk.

“And I’m no Lou Ann Doubletree,” she observed quietly, wrapping her robe tighter and securing the tie at her waist. “How stupid of me. Look, if you don’t think you can muster it up, forget I said anything.”

Ah hell. “I never said I couldn’t muster it up. Trust me. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“Maybe I feel like a child molester, mustering it up for little Ellie Swann.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, hardly a child.”

She had a point. The crazy cap of frizzy ringlets she’d never quite tamed as a kid had turned into a tumble of smooth, ebony waves. Pert features and dimpled cheeks had matured and refined, so the grown-up version delivered a one-two punch of sweet and sexy. Back in the day, she’d worn glasses so thick she could see into next week, but now, only big, brown Bambi eyes blinked up at him. And that mouth. Even bare, it looked soft and ripe and kissable.

“No argument there, Doc.”

“Then what’s the problem? I don’t buy the ethical dilemma. If you can bang Double D for the fun of it, you can bang me.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’ve had sex with women, I’ve seduced women, and on rare occasions, I’ve even made love to women, but I have never, ever banged a woman.” Still, terminology aside, he couldn’t debate her conclusion. If she’d shown up at Rawley’s tonight, a beautiful stranger, he’d have been first in line to offer her a drink, some small talk, and anything else she wanted.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t some beautiful stranger. She was Ellie. He’d always harbored a soft spot for her. They’d both been raised by tough, remote fathers carved from the same cold, hard stone. And while as far as he knew, Frank Swann had never resorted to the beatings Big Joe Longfoot had loved to dole out for any actual or perceived transgressions, the man hadn’t exactly showered his only child with praise and encouragement.

Taking in her big eyes, soft, sleep-tousled hair, and extremely kissable mouth, he realized he now had a hard spot for her as well.

The soft spot was easier to accept.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Semantics aside, do we have a deal or not?”

Christ, how did he get himself into these situations? Pressing his thumb to the growing ache between his eyes, he begged, “Give me a minute to think. How many, uh, tutorials are we talking about?”

She pondered the question for a moment and he could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she calculated. “Ten?”

His dick shot up and shouted Sold!, but his sense of self-preservation kicked in with a lowball counter. “Two.”

“Eight,” she retorted, and he secretly appreciated her unoffended gamesmanship.

“Four.”

“Five. That’s my final offer. Anything less and I don’t get enough education to make it worth risking disciplinary action from the state licensing board.”

“Okay, done.”

She smiled, and the dimples he remembered from years ago winked in her cheeks. When she stuck out her hand to shake on it, he fought a powerful urge to pull her close and kiss one of the adorable little dents. He’d never tutored anyone before, but this would be easy. Take her out a few times, give them both some thrills.

“Great.” She reached into her black bag, grabbed a handful of something he feared might be condoms, and tucked them in the pocket of her robe. “Let’s get started—”

His laugh cut her off. “No offense, Doc, but I doubt I can muster it up tonight. Half my ass is numb.”

She pressed those full lips of hers into what she probably considered a stern line. He wondered how she’d react if she knew it had his dick springing to attention and proving him a liar.

“None taken,” she said, and marched toward the door. “I was going to say, let’s get started once your stitches are out.”