also when he started to see Emma as more than a nurse, as a full-figured, voluptuous woman with warm blue eyes, a fair complexion and pretty blond hair he’d like to see loose from its tight bun.
She worked as a plus-sized model to earn extra cash during college, Sadie had told him. That’d come as a shocker. But the way she looked tonight, all dressed up and dolled up, with her hair down and wearing shiny red lipstick, he could see it. Her only indulgences are chocolate, wine and a weekly pedicure. If he had his way, she’d be adding to the list pronto.
The more Sadie shared about Emma, the more he wanted to uncover—especially the biggest secret of them all—the full, lush, sensually rounded figure she tried to hide beneath baggy hospital scrubs. He was a big man ready to try out a big woman. More cushion for the pushin’ and all. Something different. His dick started to fill at the thought.
Emma continued on toward the parking lot, talking to the man beside her, walking slowly, carefully in her heels, her shoulder-length, curly blond hair blowing in the slight breeze. Her knee-length sundress flowing, occasionally clinging, allowing glimpses of the curves it concealed as she moved. So pretty, so feminine and desirable.
She thought to escape him? Not gonna happen, sweetheart. He’d been dreaming about her for weeks. But, based on her downright frigid reception, getting Emma to even agree to their birthday date was going to take some work. Best he get started.
Brody turned his attention back to his fans. “Gotta run to get changed for my date,” he said, ignoring the disappointed voices and pleas for him to stick around for a few more minutes. They always wanted more from him. “As of right now I’m putting The Bull out to pasture for the night. It’s just me, Brody, and I’m on a date.” He scanned the group, giving them his evil, threatening wrestler look. “I won’t take kindly to being disturbed.”
Thanks to his long legs which made it easy to hurry and not look like he was hurrying, Emma’s practical, dark blue SUV came into view in the next minute. But he saw no sign of her. He looked around the small parking lot as he walked, approaching with caution, on the lookout for flying objects aimed in his direction, not sure what to expect from Emma.
What he did not expect was the grunting he heard coming from the other side of her vehicle. “Emma?” he asked.
“Stop,” she cried out.
He hesitated, asked, “What are you doing?” then continued forward. The gravel crunching beneath his feet must have given him away because all of a sudden her head popped out by the far side of the front window, her hair tousled, her eye mask gone, the fair skin on her cheeks colored pink. From the heat? Exertion? A blush? Her pinup girl red lips had him wanting to kiss her...until they formed the words, “Take one more step and you’ll get a face full of rocks.” She twirled away. More grunting ensued, accompanied by grumbling that sounded like “...mess up that pretty face of his.”
He couldn’t help it, he smiled at the threat then bent to look at her through the front driver and passenger side windows. She twisted and wriggled and strained. Then she noticed him and went rigid.
He waved and gave her a dopey grin. “Whatcha doin’?”
She narrowed her eyes in response. “None of your business. Go away.”
Not likely.
She moved farther down.
He did the same, albeit on the opposite side from her. “Do you need any help?” Maybe she had an itch she couldn’t reach or a bee flew into her pretty sundress. With that floral print she’d no doubt attract them.
She didn’t answer. When she let out one final grunt followed by an arousing moan of pleasure and a, “Yessss,” he got the message she’d finished doing whatever the heck she’d been doing. That moan got him thinking maybe she wasn’t over there doing it alone. He thought back but couldn’t remember seeing the loser that’d followed her to the parking lot rejoin the rest of the visitors. And a vision of that man on his knees at Emma’s feet, bunching her skirt up to her waist with his head between...
Propelled by an unexpected territorial urge to protect what he considered to be his, at least for tonight, Brody rounded the rear of the vehicle to be stopped short at the sight of Emma, standing alone, leaning against the door, panting slightly, looking as though she’d just triumphed in battle, her prize the heavy-duty, black fabric-elastic contraption dangling from her hand.
“To think I suffered the torture that is shapewear for you!” she said, shoving the undergarment into her oversize red pocketbook. “Well, I’m for sure going to breathe easier on my way home than I did on the trip here.”
She tried to storm past him.
He held out his arm to stop her. “Hold on a minute.”
Gracing him with another glare she said, “Please move.” When he didn’t she added, “Now,” in that do-it-or-suffer-my-wrath tone she used to boss him and his buddies around when they visited the pediatric floor of her hospital. No one dared mess with Emma while she supervised them washing their hands then checked their temperatures and listened to their lungs to evaluate them for any signs of illness before she’d allow them to circulate among her patients.
“Honey, I know—”
“I am not your honey,” she snapped, pushing past him. “And there is nothing you can say that will make me stay and endure this indignity one minute longer.” She rounded the front of the vehicle.
Indignity? “Emma, wait,” he said, following her.
She reached for the door.
“Please,” he said quietly.
She stopped but stared at her hand on the handle rather than look at him.
“I know I’m probably the last person you expected to show up tonight.” But did she have to come off so averse to the idea?
“You got that right,” she said, turning to face him. Something flashed in her eyes. Anger? Hurt? “Did you lose a bet? Is this some sort of joke? Have a good laugh at my expense? Are all the guys in on it?” She looked around the parking lot. “Did they come with you to witness my humiliation firsthand?”
What? “No. Of course not. Listen—”
She didn’t.
“Why are you here?” she snapped.
Brody spread his arms wide and smiled. “I’m your birthday present, with love from Sadie.”
“This is insane.” She started digging around in her purse. “Do you honestly expect me to believe Brody ‘The Bull’ Bullock, a wildly popular, good-looking professional wrestler who could get any woman he wanted with a sexy wink and a smile, actually wants to—” She wrapped her arm around her waist, rested her left elbow on her right forearm and dropped her face into her palm. “Oh, God. What did Sadie tell you about this date?”
Things were falling apart fast. Brody wasn’t sure how to answer. So he didn’t.
She lifted her head. “Tell me.”
Brody decided to go with honesty. “She told me every woman deserves a good—”
“Stop!”
