Unfinished Business

“Because I think I’m going to need more treatments.” She trailed the tip of her tongue down his throat. “I still have this ache.”
    “Take two aspirin and call me in an hour.”
    She laughed, a low, husky sound that had his blood humming again. “I thought you were dedicated.” Slowly, seductively, she roamed his face with kisses. “God, you taste good.” She lowered her mouth to his and sunk in.
    “Vanessa.” He could easily have floated off to sleep with her gentle stroking. But when her hand slid downward, contentment turned into something more demanding. He opened his eyes and saw that she was smiling at him. She was amused, he noted. And—pun intended—completely on top of things. “You’re asking for trouble,” he told her.
    “Yeah.” She lowered her head again to nip at his lip. “But am I going to get it?”
    He answered the question to their mutual satisfaction.
     
    “Good God,” he said when he could breathe again. “I’m going to have this table bronzed.”
    “I think I’m cured.” She pushed the hair from her face as she slid to the floor. “For now.”
    Groaning a little, he swung his legs off the table. “Wait till you get my bill.”
    “I’m looking forward to it.” She handed him his pants, then slithered into her teddy. She didn’t know about him, but she’d never think the same way about examining room 1 again. “And to think I came by to offer you some ham sandwiches.”
    “Ham?” His fingers paused on the snap of his jeans. “As in food? Like meat and bread?”
    “And potato chips.”
    His mouth was already watering. “Consider yourself paid in full.”

    She shook back her hair, certain that if she felt any better she’d be breaking the law. “I take it to mean you’re hungry.”
    “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Chicken pox,” he explained as she pulled on her blouse. “If someone was to offer me a ham sandwich, I’d kiss her feet.”
    She wiggled her toes. “I like the sound of that. I’ll go get the basket.”
    “Hold it.” He took her arm. “If we stay in this room, my nurse is going to get a shock when she opens up tomorrow.”
    “Okay.” She picked up his T-shirt. “Why don’t we take it back to my house?” She rubbed the soft cotton against her cheek before handing it to him. “And eat in bed.”
    “Good thinking.”
     
    An hour later, they were sprawled across Vanessa’s bed as Brady poured the last drop from a bottle of chardonnay. Vanessa had scoured the house for candles. Now they were set throughout the room, flickering while Chopin played quietly on the bedside radio.
    “That was the best picnic I’ve had since I was thirteen and raided the Girl Scout overnight jamboree.”
    She scrounged for the last potato chip, then broke it judiciously in half. “I heard about that.” There hadn’t been time for Girl Scouts with her training. “You were always rotten.”
    “Hey, I got to see Betty Jean Baumgartner naked. Well, almost naked,” he corrected. “She had on a training bra and panties, but at thirteen that’s pretty erotic stuff.”
    “A rotten creep.”
    “It was hormones.” He sipped his wine. “Lucky for you, I’ve still got plenty.” With a satisfied sigh, he leaned back against the pillow. “Even if they’re aging.”

    Feeling foolish and romantic, she bent over to kiss his knee. “I’ve missed you, Brady.”
    He opened his eyes again. “I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry this week’s been so messed up.”
    “I understand.”
    He reached out to twine a lock of her hair around his finger. “I hope you do. Office hours alone doubled this week.”
    “I know. Chicken pox. Two of my students are down with it. And I heard you delivered a baby—boy, seven pounds six ounces—took out a pair of tonsils… Is it pair or set?” she wondered. “Sewed up a gash in Jack’s arm, and splinted a broken finger. All that being above and beyond the day-to-day sniffles, sneezes, aches and exams.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I have my sources.” She touched his cheek. “You must be tired.”
    “I was before I saw you. Anyway, it’ll ease off when Dad gets back. Did you get a postcard?”
    “Yes, just today.” She settled back with her wine. “Palm trees and sand, mariachi players and sunsets. It sounds like they’re having a wonderful time.”
    “I hope so, because I intend to switch places with them when they get back.”
    “Switch places?”
    “I want to go away with you somewhere,