Aftershocks Read online

  He eased down her body, kissing and stroking her. His warm mouth was on her stomach, his tongue tracing a hot trail lower over her skin, to where she felt a fierce insistent ache. When he finally caressed her, she froze in embarrassment and pulled away with a loud gasp. "You—you can't do that!"

  "Am I going to have to put you back to sleep?" The deep huskiness in his voice made her quiver in response. "That's better," he murmured, pressing her back.

  George swallowed, holding herself rigid. When his mouth closed over her, she felt a scalding heat that made her legs stiffen. His hands slipped beneath her hips and lifted her, molding her against him. She thought she would break into a thousand pieces if he stopped.

  Elliot felt her resistance vanish, and he reveled in the sensuous feel of her, the taste of her. When he felt her body begin to stiffen, he quickly rose and eased inside her. He gasped at the pulsing warmth of her, and held himself rigid, trying to gain control of himself. "Elliot," she whispered brokenly, "please." He thrust deep inside her, his fingers rhythmically caressing her as his own passion mounted. Suddenly, she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he felt the small warmth of her closing tightly around him as her body shuddered. He felt himself exploding and her cries mingled with his own.

  He lay on top of her, gently smoothing back her tangled hair, calming her and himself.

  "Oh, goodness," George managed when her breath slowed.

  "Indeed," Elliot said, his voice rough with surprise.

  "I think this could become addictive."

  He raised his head and smiled into her dazed eyes. "Have I created a monster?"

  "You were the one who woke me," she protested, busily tangling her fingers in the hair on his chest.

  "Am I too heavy for you, George?"

  "No. Please don't go." She slipped her arms around his back and sighed in contentment.

  He kissed her lightly, nuzzling her lips with his. Suddenly, he stopped. He began to laugh, unable to help himself. "Oh, lord, what a fool I was. Now I understand!"

  "Stop that, Elliot! You're leaving me!" She could see his devilish grin and frowned at him. "What do you understand?" she demanded.

  "Last weekend. I wanted to make love to you and couldn't figure out why you were acting so strange. I thought you were being a tease, and I wanted to throttle you." He began to laugh again, shaking his head at himself.

  "It wasn't my fault," George muttered in a sulky voice.

  "No, and now it's funny, but believe me, it wasn't last weekend. I was in sad shape, George. Why didn't you simply tell me it was your period?"

  "Do you have to be so direct? Can't some things be left unsaid?"

  "Probably. But in the future, don't feel you can't tell me things. All right?"

  The future. Unknowningly, George gave him a dazzling sweet, utterly contented smile. "Okay," she agreed sleepily.

  Elliot stared down at her. What the hell had he meant by the the future? He felt tired and sated, and he said something his mind hadn't approved. He pulled George against him and closed his eyes. He'd worry about it tomorrow.

  Bright sunlight poured through the windows, but it was the aroma of fresh coffee that made George's nose twitch and her eyes open. Memories of the previous night coursed through her mind, and she smiled and stretched languidly.

  "You look like a contented cat."

  Elliot was walking toward the bed, carrying a tray with two cups of steaming coffee, wearing only his pants.

  "You look as delicious as the coffee smells," she said, pulling herself upright,

  Elliot's eyes fell to her breasts, and he frowned slightly as he felt his body responding. "Cover yourself up, woman, or the coffee will freeze over before you get to drink it."

  She flushed at his intimate gaze and pulled the covers to her shoulders. "Nobody has ever brought me coffee in bed before," she said for want of anything better.

  Elliot grinned. "That I know for a fact."

  He settled beside her, and raised his cup. "A toast," he said, "to a woman who looks beautiful even after a night of debauchery."

  George sipped her coffee. "Elliot," she said, cocking her head at him. "Do I look.. .different now?"

  "Yes," he said after a moment in a soft, teasing voice. "You look unutterably smug and pleased with yourself." His voice roughened. "George, the cover is slipping."

  She gave him a saucy smile. "Your chest is uncovered." She reached out her hand to stroke him, but he drew back.

  "No, sweetheart. You need a little time. You're probably sore."

  "Why do you call me sweetheart?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

  His eyes darkened, as if he were displeased with himself.

  "You called me sweetheart last night, too."

  "Well," he said at last with a crooked grin, "there's no way to shorten George. Consider it your nickname."

  "Oh," she said somewhat disappointed.

  He rose and stretched. "Drink your coffee while I take a shower. Then we're going sailing. And no, George, I refuse to shower with you, at least this morning."

  "Coward," she called after him. '

  "You're right!" He laughed and disappeared into the bathroom.

  She was a bit sore, she discovered later when she was showering by herself. How did he know, anyway? Maybe, she thought sourly, she wasn't the first virgin who had seduced him.

  Elliot wasn't a bit surprised to find George an excellent sailor, quite at home on his Islander Thirty-six. She teased him about the name, Paradox.

  "David was being clever," Elliot said as he steered closer into the wind. "We own the boat together, thus pair of docs."

  She finished winching in the jib and sat back to let the sun warm her face. "I've been thinking about buying a sailboat," she said in a perfectly serious voice, "but I'm concerned about the ongoing costs. I haven't figured out how to make it a tax write-off."

  Elliot almost laughed. She looked so damned beautiful, the wind swirling her honey-colored hair around her face, and so damned young. "David and I lease it out to a sailing instructor during the week. We can write off about eighty percent.

  "Now why," George said in disgust, "didn't I think of that?"

  "I gather you have had other things on your mind the last month," he teased her.

  "True," George allowed, taking the wheel from him, "and now that I've gotten what I wanted, my poor brain can return to more important projects. I want to head for Angel Island, sailor. Prepare to come about!"

  The afternoon became quickly overcast and George shivered despite her two bulky sweaters.

  "Let's tie up at Sam's for lunch, then call it a day," Elliot said. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "For a woman," he drawled, "you ain't a bad sailor, except for that luffing job."

  George only laughed at him. "I seem to remember, big mouth, you saying something of the sort at the volleyball game last summer. Seems you had to eat your words then."

  "Come swimming with me tomorrow, twit? and we'll complete your humiliation."

  "One of these days, doctor, I'm going to have the last word!"

  "I should live so long" he grinned, ruffling her hair.

  "No," Elliot said firmly, pulling her arms from about his neck, "I'm not coming in. Believe me, it's not that I don't want to, George, but we aren't going to take the chance." He kissed her, and stepped back with great nobility.

  "I'll call you in the morning after I've got an appointment for you with Dr. Smith."

  She looked like a child who had been deprived of a coveted present. He lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, George," he said.

  * * *

  Elliot picked up the phone. "Dr. Mallory."

  "Elliot? Maggie Smith here. Since you were the referring... physician, I thought I'd let you know about our patient."

  He should have known, damn it! "I'm certain you handled everything quite professionally, Maggie. Now, if you don't mind—"

  "Oh, no, Elliot! It's quite professional that I get bac
k to.. .the primary-care physician."

  She's really enjoying herself, Elliot thought, grimacing into the phone.

  Maggie had a look of unholy glee on her face. It was all she could do to keep from laughing. "Now, Elliot," she said, clearing her voice, "I'm glad to report that Miss Hathaway is in superb physical condition; indeed, I don't think I've ever seen a woman who was quite so.. .superb."

  "Maggie,'' Elliot growled.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to digress. I asked Miss Hathaway all the usual questions. When I asked her if she's sexually active, she gave me a radiant smile and assured me that—just a moment, let me quote her exact words—here we are: 'Oh yes, Dr. Smith, now that I know what it's all about, I plan to be very active.'"

  "Thank you for being so thorough," Elliot said sarcastically. "Now, if you're quite through, Maggie, I've got—"

  "Not quite through yet, doctor. Just for the—your record, Miss Hathaway is rather small. But she is so healthy, I doubt if she'll have too much difficulty having children."

  "Maggie!"

  "I did so much enjoy this referral, Elliot. Miss Hathaway is such a delightful young woman. It is a pity, though." She paused, allowing a deep sigh.

  "What's a pity?" Elliot asked, taking the bait.

  "Well, as you know, we have fourth-year medical students rotating through. It's always up to the patient to decide whether or not the student can be present or perform part of the examination."

  "Well?"

  "John Elderbridge, the student, is still recovering, I fear. He took one look at Miss Hathaway and nearly swallowed his Adam's apple when she wouldn't let him in the examining room."

  "Are you quite through now, Maggie?"

  "John trapped her outside my office and asked her out. She gave him this impish smile—that was the way he described it to me once I pried it out of him—and told him that she planned to be much too busy for the next fifty years!" Elliot ground his teeth.

  Maggie couldn't prevent a giggle any longer. "I'll call you, Elliot, when I get the results of the Pap smear." She had gotten over her infatuation with Elliot Mallory some time ago, and could enjoy the situation to the fullest. Poor Elliot! His days were numbered.

  George made seven laps, then collapsed in the shallow end of the pool. She felt Elliot's hands close about her waist and lift her out of the water.

  She sat panting, then pulled off her bathing cap and goggles. "Skiing," she gasped. "There I've got you."

  "Don't count on it," he said, tickling the bottoms of her her feet. "Now, while you're recovering and trying to find excuses for yourself, I'll finish my laps."

  George went soft in the stomach at the sight of his back and muscled arms stroking gracefully through the water. At least, she thought, smiling contentedly, now she knew the cause and the cure.

  He swam only twenty laps, then hoisted himself up beside her.

  "Getting old?" she asked, grinning at him.

  "Probably. What's your excuse?"

  "Too much work," she said rather pensively while kicking her feet in the water. "I've got to go to New York tomorrow."

  "When will you be back?"

  "Flying back Saturday night, late. The first filming will be in Central Park, in one of the horse-drawn carriages."

  "Since this is your last night in port, wanna spend it with me?"

  George's eyes twinkled at him. "My, but you're easy!"

  He groaned. "Lady, you don't know how close you are to being ravished, right here in front of Tim, the hulking lifeguard, and all the hospital staff."

  Her eyes turned smoky as they traveled over his body. "George, for God's sake! I'd just as soon not embarrass myself here, of all places."

  Elliot suddenly slipped back into the water, scowling up at George's laughing face.

  "What did you think of Dr. Smith?" he asked in a rather offhand manner.

  "She was charming, Elliot. We talked a lot, and she loves to laugh."

  "I'll just bet she does," he muttered under his breath.

  "It wasn't nearly as traumatic as I feared it would be. But would you believe it—there was a male medical student who wanted to be in the examining room!"

  Elliot could only grin. "No kidding," he said in a bland voice. "What did you do?"

  "Why I said no, of course."

  He waited to see if she would mention that he'd asked her out, but she didn't. In fact, she was frowning slightly.

  "What's the matter?"

  George flushed. "Well, Dr. Smith told me it will take a little while to get the diaphragm. I really urged her to have it ready today."

  "I suppose she laughed some more and agreed."

  "How did you know?"

  "Mind reading, George, and what's called professional courtesy. Come over to my place about six, okay? We'll barbecue something."

  "I'd love to. What's your specialty?"

  He winked at her. "It's called foreplay, George."

  Elliot lay on his back, his body tense with anticipation. He kept looking toward the bathroom. "George," he called out after ten minutes, "did my hamburgers make you sick?"

  "No, damn it!"

  "What's the matter?"

  He heard a wail and a crash.

  He bounded to his feet and strode to the bathroom. He opened the door to see George, beautifully naked, standing in the middle of the bathroom, the diaphragm in her hand, and his electric shaver on the floor beside her. She looked up at him and grabbed for a towel.

  "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked gently, knowing exactly what the problem was. It wasn't the time to tease her, though the situation was hilarious in the extreme.

  "I can't get the damned thing in," she muttered between clenched teeth. She looked as though she were ready to sink through the floor in embarrassment.

  He managed through great effort to keep the grin off his face. "I'll show you, okay?"

  "Are you out of your mind?" She stared at him aghast. "How would you know anything about it? No, don't tell me how doctors know everything! I'll figure it out."

  "Very well, I won't say anything of the sort. It's all right, George. It just takes a bit of getting used to, that's all."

  "But lovemaking is supposed to be spontaneous, not this—" She waved the hapless contraceptive around angrily. "I feel like such a fool! Would you please remove yourself, Elliot?"

  "I'll get the instructions for you," he said, and walked to the dresser. He handed the paper to her through the crack in the door. "Sure you don't want me to show you what to do?"

  "Go climb in the trunk of your car," she said furiously, and slammed the door.

  At least, he thought, he could grin, since she couldn't see his face.

  When she finally walked into the bedroom, he gave her a lopsided smile, and said, "You ready to be spontaneous now, lady?"

  "I'm so mortified," she muttered, her eyes fastened on his chin.

  "You're not supposed to be embarrassed around doctors."

  His voice cracked, and he couldn't contain the rumbling laughter any longer. George, her face beet red, grabbed a towel that was lying on a chair, and flicked it expertly on his thigh.

  "You jerk!'' she yelled at him. She readied the towel for another attack, but Elliot grabbed her around her waist and hauled her over his shoulder. He dropped her on her back on the bed, then fell on top of her, pulling her arms above her head.

  He waited until she stopped struggling against him. "Now, what do you deserve for that slap on my leg?"

  "I'll get you, you just wait!"

  He looked down at her thoughtfully, but his eyes were laughing. "I've never thought it particularly wise for a little shrimp to go after the big shark. Retribution is certain." He grasped her wrists in one of his hands and came up to his knees, straddling her. "Now, lady," he said, running his fingers under her arm.

  "No, Elliot," she gasped, trying to struggle free.

  He began to tickle her in earnest. George tried to buck him off, gasping for breath, but it was no use.

  "Tell
me you're abjectly sorry," he said, raising his fingers for a moment.

  "Sorry, my foot!" George yelled, kicking at his back.

  His fingers descended again, and George was writhing, gasping in laughter, "Stop! Elliot, I can't stand it! I'm sorry."

  "Abjectly sorry."

  "All right, abjectly sorry!"

  Elliot grinned down at her. Her face was red from her struggle, her eyes tearing from laughter, and her hair tangled about her head. She looked utterly beautiful. He eased down beside her, keeping her arms above her head, her wrists clasped in his hands.

  "You'll never attack my body again? Let me rephrase that—no more attacks with a towel?"

  "If you promise to stay out of the bathroom and not laugh at me anymore."

  "More torture," Elliot murmured. He smoothed the silken hair from her forehead, dipped his face down and began to nibble gently on her lower lip. His tongue glided over her mouth, exploring its texture and outline while his hand roved down to her breasts.

  "You are so perfect," she said, as if in wonder. He felt her hands stroking his belly. "I wish I had met you five years ago."

  "If you had," he said roughly, "I would have been thrown in jail."

  "Ah, no," she said, "I was eighteen then."

  There were no more words between them. He loved her slowly, with exquisite care, and when she cried in pleasure, he felt as if his own small part of the universe was perfect. Then he was lost in the maelstrom of his own pleasure.

  "Jesus," he groaned, his chest heaving with aftershocks, "that hasn't happened to me for years." He fell heavily on top of her.

  "It was all the foreplay before, during and after dinner." She grinned, tightening her hold about his back. He raised his head and smiled ruefully down at her. "George, I think if I saw you in a snowstorm, I'd still want to fling you down and have my way with you."

  "Wanna go to Tahoe, sailor?"

  He kissed her and George tasted herself on his lips. She found herself wondering what he would taste like.

  "What are you thinking?"

  She flushed slightly, unaware that her eyes had darkened at the thought.

  "Come on, you promised not to hold anything back from me."