Free Private Practice by Samanthe Beck Page B

else.”
    She sent him a perturbed look and, because he’d been pushed beyond his limits over the last few hours, he fantasized about chapter 6-ing the look right off her face.
    “Hmm. What about chapter 4? It only gets three stars, but I feel like I ought to master phone sex, sexting, and all the related technologies. Plus, we could work the lessons in at our convenience. No face-to-face required.”
    No good. He wanted the face-to-face. Think fast . “I don’t spend much of my day holed up in an office. Half the time I’m taking calls and checking texts, I’m surrounded by a crew of guys. They might be prone to comment if I text you a picture of my junk.”
    “A privacy issue? Seriously?” Suspicion laced her voice. “Can’t you step into a restroom or something?”
    “Have you ever been to a construction site? I hate to break this to you, but I’m not feeling real sexy when I’m standing in a port-a-potty.”
    “Okay, okay.” She blew out a breath and flipped the page. “No chapter 4. What about chapter 7? I originally ruled it out because of the slip-and-fall risk, but shower sex gets four stars.”
    His mind instantly filled with images of Ellie in his shower, all sleek and wet and wrapped around him, her cries of ecstasy echoing in his ears while water pounded down on them and he pounded into her. Shit. He needed to get the hell out of here, right now, before his cock voted for him.
    Swallowing to combat the desert in his throat, he answered, “Chapter 7 has potential. I’ll think about it.” He would. Constantly. Until he went batshit crazy.
    She nodded, still absorbed in the text. “I could put some of those no-slip strips in the bottom of my shower. I’m sure they sell them at the hardware store.”
    Not sure whether to laugh or pound his head against the nearest wall, he eased off the bed. “Honey, I’ve got to go.”
    She put the book aside and started to stand, but he put his hands on her shoulders to stop her. “No, no, don’t get up.” If she hugged him, hell, if she pressed herself against him in any way, shape, or form, he was a goner.
    Thankfully, she sank back down to the bed. “All right.” Polite as a schoolgirl remembering her manners, she added, “Thank you for dinner.”
    He laughed and, giving in to impulse, bent down and kissed her—quick and hard—then released her before he got any closer to chucking his plan. “Sweet dreams, Sparky. I’ll see myself out.”
    “Don’t call me Sparky,” she called after him.
    …
    “Hey, Sparky, wait up!”
    Ellie winced as her nickname reverberated across the town square, but when she turned to see Roger jogging up, all traces of irritation vanished.
    “Hi, Roger.” Thank God she’d dressed for the office today, she thought as she ran her hands over her tan pencil skirt. He, on the other hand, looked uncharacteristically…rugged. His normally perfect hair needed a comb and, if her eyes didn’t deceive her, contained flecks of sawdust. The high humidity index alone didn’t explain his sweat-dampened T-shirt or the wrinkles in his tan cargo shorts. “What on earth have you been up to?”
    He looked down at himself and grimaced. “I was over in Ashland all day building a Habitat house.”
    She shook her head. “A Habitat house?”
    “Habitat for Humanity,” he explained as he fell in step beside her. “It’s a charity dedicated to putting roofs over peoples’ heads. I recently began volunteering. My chance to play Bob the Builder for a day.”
    Could he be more perfect? Handsome, intelligent, and charitable. “That’s wonderful, lending your talents to a good cause.”
    “Well, I don’t know about talents. Mostly I’m a strong back and two unskilled hands. But every able body helps. We made a lot of progress today. Unfortunately”—he held out one hand, heel up—“sometimes progress comes at a cost.”
    She took his smooth, well-manicured hand in hers and examined the splinter wedged into the pad of flesh below