Can't Touch This Read online

  “Depends? Are you going to garnish him with chilly and mustard?”

  I couldn’t stop it. My lips twisted into a smirk. “Dunno. If I did, would it entice you to go to dinner with me? He could be the main course. And I have plenty of ideas for dessert.”

  She slammed to a stop in the doorway, her eyes wide as the plate where such dinner would be served.

  I tensed, waiting for her to shoot me down. The inevitable ‘I have a boyfriend, asshole. How dare you step on his territory’ or ‘I’ve already been pissed on by another tom cat thanks very much.’

  However, she looked me up and down in the way only a woman can full of scorn and inconvenience, shoved Pikachu back into my arms, and headed into the room without me.

  Well, that went well.

  Following her into the small, sterile box where a stainless steel bench sat in the centre with charts of innards of canines and felines pasted the walls in happy festivities of medicine, I did my best not to stare.

  Unfortunately, my eyes didn’t get the order because they followed the contours of her legs, hips, back, before following her around the bench to the computer where she typed in my name and brought up the many files I’d opened due to my unusual occupation.

  My gut tightened as she bit her lip, studying the screen. “Has this one been in before?”

  “No.” Hoisting the little wiener higher into my arms, he leaned into me for comfort. “This is Pikachu. He’s new. Just like all the rest.”

  She nodded distractedly as she came closer and reached for the dog. Just before she touched him, she remembered whatever decorum the vet’s handbook said they had to obey. “Oh, may I?”

  “May you what?”

  “Touch him?”

  “Touch my wiener?”

  She scowled. “Yes.”

  “You’ve already held him. I think you’re past asking for permission.” My lips twitched as stress trickled down my spine. There was something about this girl. She riled me up—made me want to act like an idiotic ten-year-old and pull her hair to tell her I liked her.

  Be an adult. Get a fucking grip.

  The idiotic ten-year-old inside me won. “You have to say it properly.”

  “Say what?”

  “Can I touch your wiener, Mr. Carson.”

  She sighed, irritation bright in her gaze. “You truly need to install that filter we discussed. If you want someone to do the surgery to stop vulgar man thoughts from leaving your brain and vomiting from your mouth, I could recommend Polly if you want an impartial physician.”

  “Polly?” I wracked my brains. Thorn River was a small town but I hadn’t met anyone called Polly before. And I would remember because all parrots (especially ones belonging to pirates) were called Polly.

  “Are you saying you wouldn’t be happy operating on me? You’d outsource my personality change to another?”

  “Oh, you’d actually like me to do it?” She snorted. “And here I was thinking you didn’t trust my skills seeing as you have a death grip on your dog and refuse to let me inspect him.”

  “Oh, you can inspect him. You just have to say the magic words.”

  This is stupid.

  Stop it.

  But how could I stop when her reaction was so damn addicting?

  Bending a little to bring our eyes in line, I murmured, “All you have to say is, ‘Can I touch your wiener,’ and then he’s all yours.”

  “He, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “Rather convenient.”

  I smirked. “It is convenient that Pikachu is a boy. Otherwise, the veiled insinuations of touching my cock would be odd if I referred to it as a girl.”

  She pointed a finger in my face. “Ah ha, I knew you were talking about your…umm, manhood.”

  I exploded in laughter, scaring the mutt. “Manhood? Oh shit, how old are you? Eighty and reading Fabio shirt rippers?”

  She crossed her arms. “It’s a correct term for that part of a man’s body.”

  “Sure it is. But cock sounds so much better.”

  “How about dick?” She smiled sweetly. “That’s a common one and wouldn’t you know…it’s what you’re being right now.”

  I couldn’t keep a straight face. I laughed harder. “Fuck, you’re adorable when you’re mad.”

  She froze. “Who says I’m mad?”

  “Your cheeks are pink and you’re yelling at me.”

  “I’m not yelling.”

  “Are too.”

  “What are you? Twelve?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Older. In fact, I’m guessing I’m the perfect age for you.”

  She swallowed hard. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m probably slightly older than you which women seem to like and I’m taller—which is also a good thing from what I’ve heard, and I’m stronger. Therefore, I’m perfect.”

  Wariness painted her face. “Perfect for what?”

  “A date.” I held out Pikachu. “Go ahead and touch my wiener. But if you do, you have to go on a date with me. That’s the second time I’ve asked you. I deserve an answer—or an award for my patience.”

  “Bah!” She wiped her hands on her scrubs. “No way.”

  “No way you’re going to touch my wiener, or no way you’re going to go out with me?”

  “Both.”

  I hugged little Pikachu. “Shit, buddy, did you hear that? She’s refusing you basic medical care. I think we should report her.”

  Her forehead furrowed. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t touch him.” She waved her hand in my cock’s direction. “Just not that hot dog in your pants that you keep referring to.”

  “Hot dog?” I grinned. “I’d say it’s more like a giant salami.”

  She groaned. “You have no shame. Literally, no shame.”

  “Glad you’ve learned something about me. I was beginning to think I was wasting my time.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t work under these conditions.”

  “Do you need a back massage?” I hoisted Pikachu under one arm, reaching for her shoulders. “I can do things with my fingers that guarantee to relax.”

  She stepped backward. “Oh no, let’s just stay focused, shall we?”

  “On the date? Good idea.” I cleared my throat, doing my best smouldering invitation. “Give me an answer. Go to dinner with me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ---------------------

  Vesper

  DID HE REALLY JUST ASK me out?

  For the third time?

  What the hell sort of date request was that? This was serious. He was here for the starved little creature in his arms. Not for his selfish needs.

  Ugh, men.

  This was why I didn’t date. I didn’t understand them and I had no time for things I didn’t understand. I had important work to do—such as saving lives of dogs and cats and the occasion rabbit and budgie.

  I didn’t need a man moaning about my long hours or the stink of urine on my clothes from panicked puppies when I came home.

  No way.

  Not for me.

  “Let’s just do what you’re here for, shall we?” I swiped back a runaway curl and grabbed a fresh towel from the stack we kept in the corner. “Everything else isn’t important.”

  Not looking at him, I spread the towel over the stainless steel table and waited until Ryder placed the trembling wiener onto it.

  I’d had a cat all my life and whenever she needed to visit a vet, the most stressful thing was trying to grip the slippery steel—unable to get good purchase while a stranger stuck fingers where they didn’t belong.

  I refused to let the animals I cared for go through such panic. The laundry of towels was a small price to pay for the animals who could sit calmly and have a stable foundation to face their worst nightmares.

  Ryder Carson stood too close, but I didn’t berate him. His hazel eyes hinted that he hadn’t forgotten about a date but he was worried enough about the dog to let it go.

  For now.

  Without saying a word, he suddenly pushed off the table and headed toward the door where Amanda’s voice trickled inside from another patient’s arrival.

  The soft click of the lock made my heart pound.

  It was common practice to close the door.

  We needed privacy to talk about delicate matters relating to the pet in question.

  So why does it suddenly feel way too claustrophobic in here?

  My heart hammered harder as my skin prickled in annoyance.

  Yes, annoyance.

  Not attraction or desire.

  Not desire.

  Definitely not desire.

  “Will he be okay?” He moved closer to the table, placing his hands on the towel and smiling at the long skinny excuse of a dog. How anything like this survived evolution was beyond me.

  Ryder’s dark brown hair was messy and wild as if he’d run his hand too many times through the strands. His jaw held a five o’clock shadow that looked hard earned rather than a fashion statement, and his body gave off an aggressive but possessive aura that somehow frightened me and intoxicated me at the same time.

  This man had hard edges and soft and the soft was only visible when he looked at hurting dogs and placed his trust in me to fix it.

  His eyes burned a scorching hole through me as he waited for my reply.

  I dropped my gaze. “He should be.” Giving false hope was too easy in this business. As humans, we wanted to be the ones to offer hope and promises of being able to repair things. But in reality, sometimes we didn’t have that power. I did my best not to make it sound like I could heal everything when sometimes that promise never came true.

  That was the hardest part of this job.

  Saying goodbye to a little soul who just wasn’t saveab
le.

  Grabbing my stethoscope, I held the wiggling body as he did his best to snuggle into my waist and listened to his heart.

  The flurry was fast. I had to close my eyes to cut out the distraction of Ryder Carson and concentrate. Once I had the beats per minute, I finished listening and unhooked the stethoscope from my ears. “He’s running fast, but that’s probably the adrenaline from being around people—especially if he’s been abandoned and dumped into new sensations.”

  Ryder didn’t comment; merely nodded and let me run my hands over Pikachu’s breakable bones and palpitate an empty stomach. “He doesn’t feel hot or swollen anywhere, so I don’t think he’s hurt himself while on his own, but the lack of suppleness in his skin and dullness of his coat has me worried about his hydration.”

  “You already said.”

  My hackles went up. “Excuse me for repeating myself.” I smiled coyly. “After all, you are a man. Just being kind in case you didn’t listen to me the first time.”

  He bared his teeth, making his handsome face freaking drop dead gorgeous. With his messy hair flopping over his forehead and the three day scruff, he looked like any fuckable but perfectly acceptable bring-home-to-meet-the-family boyfriend material.

  There was something about him that wasn’t common in today’s dating world. His green and brown swirled eyes didn’t fit the persona of a playboy. I’d caught him checking out my boobs and even my ass, but he didn’t give off that snaky, slimy vibe of wanting to get into my knickers just for the sake of tiddling his lizard in my kiddy pool.

  He was intrigued by me but he wasn’t going to lie about who he was to screw me.

  Clearing his throat, he grinned. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” He chuckled. “Wow, pot calling kettle black and all that.”

  My shoulders tensed. “What does that even mean?”

  “The kettle thing?”

  I scratched Pikachu as an excuse to look away. I hadn’t been paying attention. My damn uterus had stolen my brain function.

  Stupid oestrogen.

  Ryder smiled smugly. “I think it means, don’t be hypocritical.”

  My gaze shot up. “Did you just call me a hypocrite? You really are on a roll today.”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m not a hypocrite. That’s a—”

  “I just asked if I should grab some high strength puppy food to fatten him out and you zoned out on my—I don’t even know what you were staring at? My nose perhaps, it is rather good looking.” He patted the body part in question.

  He was right. It was pretty proportional and dangnamit, I had to admit—it was a sexy nose.

  “Shit, it wasn’t my mouth, was it?” He gasped overly dramatically. “Oh my, Ms. Fairfax, were you thinking about…” He leaned in, dropping his over-the-top act and sinking directly into sin. “…kissing me.”

  “What?!” My cheeks switched from pale to bonfire. “No way.”

  He inched around the table, coming closer with every step.

  My eyes automatically dropped to his trousers where a very firm bulge made my mouth dry up.

  “Maybe you do want to touch it.”

  “Touch it?” My fingers squeezed the poor wiener, making him yelp. “I’m already touching it.” I patted the dog’s head. “See…touching it.”

  He chuckled, knowing he’d rubbed a nerve and enjoying my reaction. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He stood with his legs spread boldly, giving me full view of what trouser snake he possessed. “You can squeeze my salami if you want. Poor Pikachu has been through enough, don’t you think?”

  I threw my hands up. “Wow, you really are something else.”

  “Something incredible, you mean?”

  “Something delusional more like.”

  He laughed. “You’re too easy.”

  “Easy?!” How dare he call me easy? I wasn’t easy. I hadn’t had sex in sixteen months. That was the opposite of easy. I didn’t believe in internet dating and I had no life. I worked, I restocked the surgery, I went home to my pussy cat, and relaxed with a book or Netflix.

  The end.

  If I was easy, wouldn’t I be parading myself on line and going on tinder or whatever it was where sexual hook-ups took place these days? I mean, how did those sites even work? Had computer cameras advanced so far they delivered orgasms via the World Wide Web now?

  The tense moment stretched.

  Pikachu barked as his new owner encroached on my space, crossing the half-way point and into my territory.

  Alert. Alert.

  Mayday.

  My heart went bananas as Ryder inched his fingers across the table toward mine.

  I ripped them away.

  I did the one thing a vet should never do.

  I left my little doggy patient alone and unsupported on the table.

  Panicking and feeding off the confusion in the room, Pikachu launched himself off the high ledge.

  Everything happened in slow motion.

  Ryder took a step back, his arms outstretched to catch the flying bratwurst. I threw myself forward, hoping to scoop the soaring sausage from the air.

  He remained standing, I bent horizontal.

  Horror ensured.

  My face landed squarely on his cock.

  Boom.

  Nose to shaft, chin to balls.

  I felt him.

  Hard but soft. Hot but steel.

  I felt him on my face!

  Get it off.

  Oh my God, what did I do in a previous life to deserve this?

  A loud humph escaped his lips as victory replaced my shock. I caught the plummeting dog and saved the day. Standing up straight, I quickly placed the squirmy creature back onto the table and pulled out my script pad to jot down what he would need to buy.

  He needs to leave.

  Now.

  I didn’t care if Polly refused to look after him. She’d have to after this.

  I’m mortified.

  The poor guy was doubled over in pain, sucking in gasps of air.

  By the time I’d scribbled a puppy formula and a few vitamins, he was able to stand upright. A loud laugh froze my fingers and I couldn’t stop my head from tilting upward.

  “You know…” He wheezed through another wash of pain. “I offered you the right to touch it. Not face plant into it.”

  He cupped the delicate meat and veg between his legs. It wasn’t just snack size, either. It was banquet—need to go back for seconds and possibly thirds—size.

  Damn him.

  Damn him and his sexy face and alluring cock.

  Tonight, I wouldn’t just be reading, I would be scrolling online for a vibrating friend to replace the broken one I’d put out of commission last month. I hadn’t replaced it up till now because I didn’t want to have the temptation every night.

  Who had a relationship with her fun-for-one wand, anyway? Not a sane woman. But this sort of issue was exactly why a woman had a relationship with battery operated toys.

  Because situations like this—face in crotch situations—wouldn’t be nearly as awkward if she’d had an orgasm or three, and could withstand the nuclear superpowers of a virile single man sniffing around for sex.

  Go away, superman, and leave me be.

  However, if Ryder heard my silent request, he did the opposite. Leaning toward me, he inhaled.

  Did he just sniff me?

  He said, “You know, if you were interested, you only had to ask.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Not interested or not in the mood to ask?” He grinned. “Because really, you just took advantage of me in your work place behind locked doors. That’s a case for the courts. Don’t you think?”

  “You wouldn’t.” I froze. “It was an accident. You know it was. You wouldn’t dare—”

  He buffed his nails on his white t-shirt beneath a faded brown bomber jacket—even his clothes were hot. Where did men like him shop? Sex-R-us?

  “I would dare if you continue to annoy me.”

  My heart raced. I didn’t know if it was from a threatened law suit or the sexual awareness fizzing my blood. “How am I annoying you? I do everything you ask. I drop my other patients when you show up. I give you discounts on supplements—”

  “Only because I bulk order and give you a small fortune.”

  Well yes, but that’s beside the point. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “That you’re obligated to go out with me?”

  I nodded.

  “But it does mean that I’ve been nice to you—the perfect customer. All I wanted was safety and consideration when using your practice. What would the jury have to say if I told them you tried to extort me for more money by coming on to me?”