Treat Her Right & In the Doctor's Bed
Author
Lori Foster
Reads
18.2K
Chapters
31
Chapter 1
“Damn you, Conan! That’s it!”
Zack Grange jerked upright in his bed, heart pounding, muscles coiled. His sleep-fogged brain felt in a jumble. He’d been dreaming, a very hot dream about a sexy lady—faceless, but with a gorgeous body—and then he’d heard the loud female shout. Caught between drugging sleep and abrupt wakefulness, confusion swamped him.
He looked around his shadowed bedroom and found it as empty as ever. No one lurked in the corners, certainly not the lady he’d been dreaming of, yet the voice had seemed to be right upon him. Heart still tripping, he strained to hear, and caught male laughter floating in through his open window. He frowned.
A glance at the clock showed it to be only seven-thirty. He’d barely been in bed at all, not long enough to recoup from the strenuous night. Certainly not long enough to finish that tempting, now elusive dream.
The deep female voice came again.
“It’s not funny, you moron, and you know it,” the woman groused, showing no consideration for those people still trying sleep. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“Better you than me, sweetheart.” Then, “Ouch! Now that hurt.”
Zack threw off his sheet. Wearing only his boxers, he went to the window to look out. He shivered as the morning air washed over his mostly bare body. The mid-September nights were getting cool, but he preferred the fresh air for sleeping. He stretched out aching muscles, still cramped from all the lifting he’d done just a few hours ago, scratched his chest, then slid aside a thin drape and peered down into the yard behind his house.
His was a larger, more private corner lot, and the street behind him ran perpendicular to his own. His bedroom window, at the back of his house, faced the side lot, so that he could see both the front and backyard of the home behind him.
New neighbors, he thought with disgust, noticing the For Sale sign now lying flat, and cardboard boxes piled everywhere around the yard. Squinting against the blinding red haze of a half-risen sun, his tired eyes gritty, he searched for the source of the screeching.
When his gaze finally landed on her, he stared in stunned disbelief.
Extremely curly brown hair was only halfheartedly contained in a sloppy ponytail. He couldn’t see the details of her upper body beneath an overlarge, misshapen sweatshirt, but her shorts showed off mile-long, athletic legs and dirty white tennis shoes. Zack surveyed her top to bottom, and because a lot of distance stretched between those two points, it took a good minute.
As a basic male, he immediately considered those long strong legs. With the erotic dream still dancing around the corners of his mind, he pictured them twined around him, or perhaps even over his shoulders, and speculated on how tightly they might hold a man when he was between them, buried deep inside her.
As a discriminating man, he wondered why her hair looked such a wreck and what her upper body might present once out of that awful sweatshirt.
And lastly, as a neighbor, he wanted to groan at the lack of consideration that kept her squawking and carping in a voice too deep and too loud to be called even remotely feminine. The future didn’t bode well, not with her living behind him.
“Daddy?”
Zack turned with a smile, but he felt ready to commit murder. Evidently, the noise had awakened his daughter, which meant there would be no going back to bed for him. Exhaustion wrought a groan in protest, but he held out a hand, smiling gently. “Come here, sweetheart. It looks like our new neighbors are moving in.”
Rubbing her eyes with a small fist, Dani padded toward him, dragging her favorite fuzzy yellow blanket behind her. Her wee bare feet peeked out from the hem of her nightgown. Standing out around her head, her typically mussed blond hair formed a halo, and one round cheek was creased from her pillow. She reached him and held up her skinny arms. “Let me see,” she demanded in her adorable childish voice.
Obligingly, Zack lifted her. His daughter was such a tiny person, even though she was now four. Petite, as her mother had been, he thought, and hugged her close to his naked chest. He breathed in her little girl smell, rubbed his rough cheek against her downy soft hair, kissed her ear.
She liked to be held, and he loved holding her.
As usual, Dani immediately gave him a wet good-morning kiss on his whiskered cheek. She wrapped her arms around his throat, her legs around his waist, and looked out the window. Her blanket caught between them.
Zack waited for her reaction. Dani never failed to amuse him. For a four-year-old, she was very astute, honest to a fault, and he loved her more than life itself.
Most of the kids her age asked constant questions, but not Dani. She made statements instead. Other than two days a week at a preschool, she was always in the company of his friends. Zack assumed her exposure to adults accounted for her speech habits.
“I see her butt,” she said with an exaggerated frown.
Startled, Zack lowered his head to peer out the window again, and sure enough, the woman bent at the waist, her legs straight and braced apart for leverage as she tugged on a large box. Her shorts were riding rather high and he could just see the twin moons of her bottom cheeks.
Nice ass, he thought appreciatively, lifting one brow and looking a little harder. Dani poked him, and he shook his head, remembering that this woman had just awakened him from a much-needed sleep and a pleasantly carnal dream. “Wait until she stands up, Dani.”
The woman tugged and pulled and when the box broke apart, she fell backward, landing on that nice behind. From somewhere on her porch, a man hooted with loud laughter and called out, “Want some help?”
Zack fancied he could see some of her curly brown hair standing on end. She all but vibrated with temper, then snarled in a voice reminiscent of an enraged cat, “Go away, Conan!”
“But I thought you wanted my help?” came the innocent, taunting reply.
“You,” she said back, standing up and dusting herself off with enough force to leave bruises on a less hearty woman, “have done enough.”
Zack tried to see the mysterious Conan, but couldn’t. Her husband? A boyfriend? What kind of name was Conan anyway?
As the woman gained her feet, Dani said in awe, “She’s a giant!”
Chuckling, Zack squeezed her. “She looks as tall as me, doesn’t she, honey?”
His daughter nodded, watching the woman unload the box with jerky, angry movements, rather than try to move it again. Dani laid her head on Zack’s chest, quietly thinking in that way she sometimes did. Zack rubbed her back, waiting to see what she’d say next.
She shocked him speechless by suddenly leaning forward—leaving it up to him to balance her off-balance weight—and cupping her hand to her mouth, she shouted out the window, “Hello!”
The woman turned, looked up with a hand shading her eyes, searching. She spotted them and her frown was replaced by a bright toothy smile. She waved with as much enthusiasm as she’d used to dust her bottom. “Hello there!”
In his underwear, Zack quickly ducked behind the curtain. “Dani,” he said, ready to muzzle his daughter. “What are you doing?”
She wrinkled her little nose at him. “Jus’ being neighborly, like you said I should.”
“That was to the old neighbors. We don’t even know these people yet.”
She wiggled to get down, and when he set her on her feet, she said, “We’ll go meet ’em now.”
Zack caught her by the back of her cotton nightgown as she started to barrel out of the room. “Hold on, little lady. We have breakfast and chores and washing up to do first, right?”
Again, she wrinkled her nose. “Later.”
He almost grinned at her small, sweet hopeful voice—a voice she only used when trying to wrap him around her itty-bitty finger. “Now.”
Disgruntled and grumbling under her breath, she trod back to the window and yelled, “I’ll be out later!”
The woman laughed. It was a nice rich husky sound, much better than her screaming. “I’ll surely still be here.”
Zack looked out, feeling as if he’d landed in the twilight zone. Now that his daughter had drawn attention to them—and the neighbors knew they’d been watched—he couldn’t very well ignore them.
The man from the porch sauntered into the yard, smiling. Zack blinked with yet another surprise. Massive was the only word for him. Built like a large bulldog, he stood a few inches shorter than the woman, but was twice as thick and all muscle. He lifted an arm as stout as a tree trunk and waved.
“I’m Conan Lane,” he called out, “and this squawking shrew is Wynonna.”
To Zack’s amazement and Dani’s delight, the woman elbowed Conan hard, making him bend double and wheeze, then she corrected sweetly, “Call me Wynn.”
Seeing no hope for it, Zack shouted back, “Zack Grange, and my daughter, Dani.”
“Nice to meet you both!” And then to further exasperate him, Wynn said, “Since we’re all awake and it’s such a beautiful morning, I’ll bring over some coffee so we can get acquainted.”
Zack stammered, unsure how to deny that audacious imposition, but she’d already turned and hurried into her house, the enormous Conan following her. He frowned down at Dani, who shrugged, grinned, and said, “We better get dressed.” And off she dashed, her blanket dragging behind her.
Zack dropped to the side of his bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was badly in need of a shave and a long shower. At the moment he had no doubt his eyes were more red than blue. He’d worked twelve grueling hours last night, tended two especially trying emergencies, and he was starved as well as fatigued.
Luckily, this was his day off, which he’d intended to spend shopping with Dani. Because his daughter liked to play hard, and paid no mind at all to the knees of her jeans or the elbows of her shirts, she was desperately in need of new fall clothes.
He did not want to be bothered with outrageous neighbors.
Especially not neighbors who’d awakened him too early and were too damn large. And loud.
Shoving himself off the bed, he determined to get through the next few minutes with as much politeness and forbearance as he could muster.
The doorbell rang not three minutes later. He’d barely had time to pull on jeans and a sweatshirt. He picked up his running shoes, carrying them loosely in his hand. On his way to the door, he peeked in at Dani. She stood there in a T-shirt and blue-flowered panties, surveying her closet with a studious frown.
Zack leaned on her doorframe. “Dress warm, honey.”
She nodded, frowned some more, and looked through her clothes. Zack bit back a grin and asked, “Hard decision?”
She was so intent on her choice, she didn’t answer.
Because jeans were a given, he said, “How about a sweater?” preferring that over what she might have chosen otherwise—a ratty sweatshirt. He posed it as a suggestion, rather than an instruction, because he knew she liked to make her own decisions—about everything—any time he gave her that option.
She nodded agreement. “Okay. What sweater?”
He walked into the room, reached into her closet and pulled out a soft red sweater with multicolored buttons. “This one is nice,” he suggested, trying his best to sound serious and sincere.
She studied the sweater, considering, until the doorbell rang again. Snatching it out of his hand, she pushed at him and said, “Go! Go get the door, Dad!”
Zack laughed as he walked away. His daughter, the social butterfly. Most times, Dani didn’t give two cents for how she dressed. She’d pull on the same clothes from the night before if Zack didn’t get them out of her room and into the hamper fast enough. But let them have company and she agonized. Not that she wanted to wear dresses. Heaven forbid! And anything other than sneakers or boots repulsed her four-year-old sensibilities.
But she did like color. Lots and lots of color. Often if left to her own devices, she’d clash so horribly it’d make his eyes glaze.
Still sporting a grin, Zack bounded down the stairs and went to the front door. He turned the locks and opened it, wishing he didn’t have to do this today. He’d wanted nothing more than to sleep in, then take a long leisurely soak in the hot tub, eat an enormous breakfast, and spend the day with his daughter.
Now he had to be neighborly.
The second the door opened, the woman looked at him and her smile faded. “Oh dear,” she said. “We woke you up, didn’t we?”
Zack went mute and stared.
Up close, she seemed even taller, and she did indeed look him in the eye. At six feet tall, that didn’t happen to him often. His two best friends, Mick and Josh, were both taller, Mick especially, who stood six foot three. But then they were both guys. They were not female.
A light breeze ruffled her flyaway hair, which seemed to have been permanently crimped. The color was nice, a soft honey-brown, lighter around her face where the sun had kissed it. Curls sprung out here and there and everywhere, like miniature springs. He doubted such unruly hair could ever be fully contained.
A soft flush colored her skin—high across her cheekbones, over the bridge of her narrow nose and the tip of her chin—either by the warmth of the day, her exertions, or the bright sunshine. Zack suspected the latter.
Sporting a crooked smile, she stared right back at him with the most unusual hazel eyes he’d ever seen. So light they were almost the color of topaz, they were fringed by thick, impossibly dark lashes, especially given the color of her hair. After a silent moment, her arched brows lifted and her smile stretched into a full-fledged grin.
Zack caught himself. Good God, he’d been staring at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. He’d been staring at her...with interest. He shook his head. “What gave me away?”
“What’s that?” She now appeared confused.
“How could you tell that you woke me?”
“Ah. The hair standing on end? The all-night whiskers? Or it could be the bloodshot eyes.” She made a tsking sound. “Have you slept at all?”
He ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, “I worked pretty late last night,” and left it at that. He wasn’t with it enough yet to start rehashing the past evening’s events. He pushed the screen door open and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
She looked behind her. “Conan will be right along. He’s getting some muffins out of the oven. He’s a terrific cook.”
Conan-the-massive cooked?
The woman held up a carafe. “Fresh coffee. French vanilla. I hope that’s okay?”
He hated flavored coffees. “It’s fine,” he lied, “but totally unnecessary.”
“It’s the very least I can do now that I know I got you out of bed.”
If she hadn’t, he thought, perhaps he’d have finished that sexy dream and not been so edgy now. But as it was, he couldn’t quite seem to get himself together.
She hesitated at the door. “I really am so sorry. This is my first house and I’m equally stressed and excited and when I get that way, I unfortunately get—” She shrugged in apology. “—loud.”
Her honesty was both unexpected and appealing. Zack forced a smile. “I understand.”
Yet, she still held back. “I don’t mean to barge in. If you have some cups, we could sit here on your porch. We’ll share one cup of coffee, chat a little, and that’s all, I promise. It’s a beautiful morning and we are all awake now, right?”
Great. If he kept her and her husband outside, he could probably get rid of them quicker. “Good idea. Have a seat and I’ll go get some cups.”
Just then, Dani came dashing down the steps. Zack turned, saw her small feet flying, and said softly but sternly, “Slow down.”
She skidded to a halt on the second to the bottom step, gave him a quick, offhand, “Sorry,” and looked up at the woman as she finished approaching. “Hi.”
Wynn’s face lit up with her smile, making those golden eyes glow and the color in her cheeks intensify. “Hello there!” Kneeling down in the doorway, she said, “It’s so good to meet you.” She held out a hand that Dani took with formality. Zack watched in awe. “I hadn’t realized I’d have another female for a neighbor. The Realtor only told me that a single man lived here.”
“I’m Dani. My mom died,” Dani said, “so it’s jus’ me and Dad.”
Given half a chance, Dani would voice anything that came into her mind. Normally he didn’t mind, but this time it rankled.
Her sweater was hiked up in the back and the left leg of her jeans had caught on a cotton sock. Zack smoothed the sweater, tugged the jeans into place, and frowned at her hair. His daughter, bless her heart, had the most impossible baby-fine, flyaway blond hair.
Then he glanced at Wynn again and revised his opinion. Dani had difficult hair, but definitely not the worst.
Softly, probably because she realized Dani had touched on a private topic, Wynn said, “Well, I’m very glad to have you for a neighbor, Dani.” She glanced up at Zack warily. “And your dad, too, of course.”
Zack took his daughter’s hand, not about to leave her alone with a virtual stranger, and said, “Wynn, if you’d like to make yourself comfortable, we’ll get the mugs and be right out.”
Wynn stood again, stretching out that long tall body. Zack’s gaze automatically dropped to her legs, but he quickly pulled it back to her face even as a wave of heat snaked through him. She was married, he thought guiltily, and he had no intention of ogling a neighbor anyway.
Rather than looking put out by his quick, intimate perusal, Wynn smiled. “Sounds good,” she murmured, her eyes warm. She turned back to the porch, giving Zack a back view of those strong shapely legs and tight bottom, and the screen door fell shut behind her.
Dani stared up at him, but he shook his head, indicating she should be quiet for a moment. When they reached the kitchen, he plunked her onto a chair opposite him and took a moment to pull on his shoes. That accomplished, he looked at his daughter. “Juice?”
“Apple.” Dani swung her feet, then tilted her head. “She’s not taller than you.”
“No, not quite,” Zack said, locating a tray beneath the sink and loading it with three mugs, a glass of apple juice and a bowl of cereal for Dani. “It’s close, though. She looked me right in the eye, but she had on thick-soled shoes and I was still barefoot.”
Dani squirmed. “I want my hair in a ponytail like hers.”
He smiled. Maybe a female neighbor, even a very big one with corkscrew hair, wouldn’t be a bad thing. Eloise, Dani’s sitter during Zack’s working hours, was a very kind, gentle and attentive woman. But she was old enough to be Zack’s grandmother, with bluish hair and support hose—not a woman to inspire a young girl.
Zack’s company was mostly limited to Mick and Josh, and though Josh knew everything there was to know about legal-aged females, he knew next to nothing about four-year-olds. Since Mick had married, Dani got to visit with Delilah now and then, and the two of them had really hit it off, which proved to Zack that Dani needed a woman around more often.
For Dani’s sake, he’d decided he needed a wife. But finding someone appropriate was proving to be more difficult than he’d thought, mostly because he had so little time to look.
When he did have time, he didn’t run across any suitable women. A wife would need to be domestic, neat, lovable, and she’d have to understand that his daughter came first. Period.
“A ponytail it is,” Zack said, forcing his mind away from that problem. He stroked his big rough fingers through Dani’s fine hair. “Why don’t you go get your brush and a band, and then come out to the porch?”
“Okay.” She slid off the chair and ran from the room again. His daughter never walked when she could run. She was never quiet when she could talk or laugh, and she always fought naps right up until she ran out of gas and all but collapsed. She exuded constant energy, and she had an imagination that often left him floored.
She was his life.
Wynn and Conan were arguing again when Zack opened the screen door. He stalled, uncertain what to do as Wynn poked the bulky bruiser in the chest and threatened his life.
Ignoring most of her diatribe, Conan said, “Ha!” then flicked her earlobe, hard.
Zack’s mouth fell open, seeing the physical byplay.
Before he could say anything, Wynn lit up like a live wire, clutching at her ear. “That hurt!”
“Well so does your pointy little finger trying to bore holes in my chest.”
“Bull.” She leaned in to him, nose to nose, and deliberately gave him another, harder prod. “You can’t feel anything through that layer of rock and you know it.”
Conan rubbed his chest, opened his mouth to say God-only-knew-what, then noticed Zack. He scowled. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself in front of your neighbors, Wynonna.”
Frozen half in, half out of the door, Zack just stared. Domestic troubles? God, he didn’t want to be involved in this.
Wynn rushed forward and took the tray from him. “Just ignore Conan,” she said, “he’s a bully.”
Conan ran both hands through his blond hair, which Zack noticed wasn’t the least bit frizzy, and growled. His eyes turned red and his face blue. “Wynonna, I swear I’m gonna—”
He reached for her and Zack, without really thinking, stepped between them. The tray in Wynn’s arms wobbled, but she maintained her grip.
“Look,” Zack said, not sure if the woman would need any help or not, “this is none of my business, but—”
Wynn rudely pushed her way around him. “You’re gonna what?” she taunted Conan. “What else can you do?”
Conan reached for her again, and Zack grabbed him. “That’s enough,” he roared.
Zack hadn’t had enough sleep, he was still disturbed by the calls he’d made the night before, and he had no tolerance for petty bickering.
And he absolutely, positively, would not put up with a man hurting a woman, not even a pesky too-big neighbor woman he barely knew and who looked like she could damn well defend herself.
Silence fell. Conan, with one brow raised, stared at Zack’s hand wrapped around his thick wrist. Zack had big hands, but still, his fingers barely touched.
Conan’s gaze shifted to Wynn, and he made a wry face. “A gallant in the making?”
Wynn set the tray down and rushed to put herself between the two men, facing Zack. Her fingers spread wide on his chest, pressing, restraining although he could have easily moved her aside and they both knew it. Wedged between the two of them, she was so close to Zack he felt her breath and the heat of her body. He twitched.
Wynn stared into his face with an expression bordering on wonder, patted him, and then said with quiet sincerity, “Thank you, but Conan would never hurt me, Zack. I promise. He just likes to needle.”
Conan, still caught in Zack’s unrelenting grasp, snorted at that. But he replied easily, “She’s right, you know. I might want to swat her every now and again, but I wouldn’t hurt her.”
Swat her? Zack peered into Wynn’s large golden eyes and imagined all kinds of kinky sexual play between the two of them.
He wasn’t sure if he was disgusted or intrigued, and his indecision on the matter was unacceptable. He frowned, feeling very put upon.
Then Conan continued lazily. “Wynn, however, has never shown any such consideration. She’s been kicking my ass since we were both in diapers.”
Wynn gave Zack an apologetic nod. “It’s true. Conan is such a big lug, he’s always let me practice up on him.”
Conan tugged on his hand, and Zack, feeling numb and rather foolish, and for some damn reason, relieved, released him.
Brother and sister?
“She’s so big,” Conan continued, “she’s always looked older than her age. When she was in ninth grade, college guys were hitting on her! She needed to know how to fight off the cretins. So I’ve been her personal punching bag for longer than I care to remember.”
Still with her hands pressed to Zack’s chest, Wynn glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Not that he feels it,” she said to her brother, “regardless of how he carries on.” Facing Zack again, she explained, “A steamroller could go over Conan and he’s so thick with muscle he wouldn’t notice.”
Zack inhaled and breathed in the scents of vanilla coffee, fresh blueberry muffins, early morning dew on green grass—and Wynn. She smelled...different. Not sweet. Not exactly spicy. It was more a fresh scent, like a cool fall breeze or the forerunner to a storm. His muscles twitched again.
Damn, but this day was not going at all as planned.
And he could only blame one very big, and somehow very appealing, woman. A woman who was not only his neighbor, but still touching him, still looking at him with a mixture of tenderness, humor, and...hunger.
He’d known tall women, hell, Mick’s wife Delilah was tall. But he’d never known such a...sturdy woman. Her open hands on his chest were nearly as large as his own. Her shoulders were broad, her bones long. Unlike Delilah, Wynn wasn’t delicate.
But she was sexy.
He needed some sleep to be able to deal with the likes of her. And he needed more time.
And most of all, he needed sex, because he knew when he started getting turned on by a loud, pushy amazon, it had been far, far too long.
