The Doctor's Secret Bride (1) by Ana E. Ross Page B

heart.
    It has been two plus years since he’d touched a woman’s body for the purpose of pleasure.  And the only one he wanted to pleasure was the woman upstairs in his guest bedroom.
    “Precious has a new nanny now,” Bridget argued her point.  “So you can’t use that as an excuse anymore.”
    He groaned.  If she only knew that the new nanny wasn’t an older Bengay-scented matriarch, as he’d requested, but a young, alluring, Moonligh t-scented temptress who was driving him out of his mind, she’d probably want to move into his house to fight the competition—when there wasn’t really one.  “Oh, Bridge, I might bore you to tears.”
    She found that amusing.  “Like you could.”
    It would bore him .  He rotated his neck, rubbing the back and sides to ease the tension in his muscles.  “I have to go, Bridget,” he said abruptly.  He needed an ice-cold shower to ease the tension in his groin.
    “Do you promise to think about staying the night in Boston?”
    She was a brilliant doctor, and he enjoyed working with her.  She was also a good friend who had helped him through the first few months after Cassie died, but that was as far as it went for him.  He had to find a way to stop her shameless advances once and for all, but not right now. Michelle was the only woman on his mind tonight, and since he couldn’t have her in reality, he’d have to take her in his fantasy.
    “Okay, Bridget.  I’ll think about it,” he said to get her off the phone.
    “Excellent.  Good night, Erik.”
    “Good night, Bridget.”
    Erik began unbuttoning his shirt as he climbed the stairs.
     
    ***
     
    Michelle parked the Jaguar on the far end of the lot, away from heavy traffic, and walked the short distance to the old building that currently served as a youth center in downtown Manchester.  She’d seen the skepticism in Erik’s eyes when he had handed her the keys, weeks ago.  He was like all men.  Their cars were their babies.
     What she would really like to be driving was that red Porsche in his garage.  But without having to be told, Michelle knew that car was off limits.  That belonged to his dead wife.
    “Michelle!”  A mob of children flocked her the minute she hit the door.  They’d been expecting her.
    “Hi, guys.”   She dropped two shopping bags on a table near the door.  “Uh-uh,” she cautioned as they made a dash for the bags of goodies.  “Those are for later.”
    “Oh…” they uttered in disappointment.
    She smiled.  It was so good to see them again after three weeks.   She had some free time today because Erik and Precious were at an elite annual father-daughter function at the Conference Center across town.  They would be dining at some fancy restaurant and would be out for the rest of the night, which would give her time to visit her brother in Cambridge once she left the center.
    Precious had been so excited as Michelle had helped her into in a pretty little blue dress with ruffles and satin bows—a dress Michelle had helped her pick from the dozens that had been delivered from an exclusive children’s store in Boston.  It had cost hundreds of dollars.  That was the LaCrosse’s world.
    As Michelle gazed at the children before her, she wondered when was the last time one of them saw a movie or ate out, or if they’d ever wear an outfit that somebody else hadn’t worn before.
    These kids were poverty-stricken and in need of a lot of things.  Most of them hadn’t seen their deadbeat fathers in years.  Three hundred dollars would buy them a lot of necessities—like warm coats, shoes that fit, school supplies—things that people like Dr. LaCrosse took for granted.  This was her world.
    “I made you something, Michelle.”  A little ten year-old boy with new braces pushed ahead of the crowd and held up a yellow paper bracelet.
    “Thanks, Malcolm.”  Michelle took the bracelet and read the inscription.  I’ll love you forever.  Malcolm .  It was