Private Practice (Private Pleasures 1)

Why so nervous? Was she afraid he’d laugh at her attempt to be sexy? Maybe…okay, yes. Silly, because while she really didn’t know him very well, she knew he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her feelings. The real worry was that they’d get into what she’d selected as the first lesson and he’d deem her a hopeless case.

Unlikely, she reassured herself, because she’d studied chapter 3 diligently. The guide claimed most men loved chapter 3 anytime, anywhere, with any degree of proficiency, so it made a fairly foolproof starting point. Hopefully. Maybe it was too conventional? Should she have started with chapter 13?

The chime of her doorbell ended her second-guessing. She rushed to the door, pulled it open, and stopped short. For whatever reason, she’d assumed he’d come directly from his job site, and had pictured him in work boots and dusty jeans. Instead he stood before her freshly showered and smooth-jawed, with a devilish gleam in his clear, green eyes. The clean, spicy scent of his aftershave enticed her almost as much as the rest of him.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Right on time. That’s helpful, because we have a lot to cover this evening.” Since she couldn’t seem to stop babbling, she gestured him in. “We should probably get started. My bedroom’s this way.” She laughed a little hysterically. “Of course you don’t need me to tell you. You already know the layout.”

“Whoa. Slow down, there, Sparky.” He snagged her arm and, with a tug, brought her swinging around until her chest bumped his.

Her heart thudded against her ribs. She took a step back and tried to figure out what she’d rushed. “I’m sorry. Did you want to…” What? What did guys like to do before getting it on? “Freshen up, or, was there something else you needed?”

His slow smile tightened her stomach. “Maybe I need a little wine and candlelight first, hmm?” Fingers toyed with the ends of her hair. “I’m not a windup toy, you know.”

He was teasing her, she felt certain, but still, she could be a good hostess. “Um, I have

some chardonnay in the fridge, if you’d like a glass. Could we put the candlelight off until next week? I need to see what I’m doing for this first lesson—”

His laugh cut her off, deep and rich and completely without taunt, but her hackles rose anyway. Here she was, organized, prepared, ready to get to work, and he was messing around.

“I actually wasn’t making a joke.”

Her outburst bounced off him. He trailed his fingers down her arm as if he enjoyed the feel of her skin. “I’m sure you weren’t. Look, Doc, I worked a long day, came home, showered, and got myself over here. I need sustenance.”

Sustenance? “You’re hungry?”

“Aren’t you?”

She opened her mouth to say no, but her stomach rumbled.

His smile deepened. “C’mon, Ellie, get dressed. It’s a pretty evening. Let’s take a ride over to the river and grab some dinner. There’s nothing wild about one of us passing out from hunger.”

“B-but I’m already prepared here. I’ve got fancy underwear on and everything.”

He cocked one dark eyebrow. “That so?” Big hands took her shoulders and turned her around. His mouth moved next to her ear. “I can’t wait to hear all about them over dinner. Go throw on a little dress and a jacket. I’ll wait in the front room.” One hand slid down her back, over her butt, and squeezed.

“Tyler— ”

“Hurry.” He gave her backside a playful swat and nudged her toward her bedroom.

…

When Ellie strode into her front room, Tyler rose from her dainty blue sofa and all the blood in his head flowed due south at record speed.

The deep purple dress she’d changed into hugged her tightly on top and dipped low enough in front to give him a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage. The short, fluttery skirt showed off a lot of leg—slim, silky legs he instantly pictured wrapped around his waist while the pointed heels on her mile-high sandals dug into his ass like spurs.

“Nice,” he managed to say, and helped her into her thin black cardigan.

“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little out of breath. “I’m ready.”

“After you.”

The high-heeled sandals forced her to take her time, so he occupied himself checking out her legs while she preceded him down the porch steps. When she walked toward her garage he caught her arm.

“I’ll drive.”

She eyed his bike, then him. “You’re joking, right?”

“What’s the matter, Doc? Scared to ride with me?”