Zenith Rising by Leanne Davis

house?
Why should he care if she didn’t like what she saw? Why did finding
her on his doorstep, dressed in one of her trim, professional,
conservative, business suits, with her hair pulled back in a tidy
clip, and her glasses perched on her straight, perfect nose, do
things to him? Things that even Tamira couldn’t do for him as
yet.
    Tamira came out of the kitchen.
    “What was she doing here?” The she was
enunciated with a high-pitched squeal.
    “Needed a favor.”
    “What?”
    “I mess around on the piano sometimes. She
wanted me to play somewhere.”
    “Oh. That’s nice. Are you any good?”
    He shrugged, moving past Tamira, and down the
hall, barely listening when Tamira started talking about some
friend of hers who played the drums. He grabbed a beer out of the
fridge and popped the top.
    Who did Erica Heathersby think she was to
lecture him about what he did in his own house? Wasn’t her prick
boyfriend rubbing his hands all over her ass in the office, with
the door open? Didn’t Spencer walk in on that? And not like it? But
did he say anything to Erica? No. He said nothing. And she… what?
Thought she could suggest he was some kind of deviant because
Tamira wanted to fuck him? Tamira volunteered, and nearly begged to
come home with him.
    He never knew what to make of Erica. On the
one hand, she was cultured, well-spoken, and part of high society,
orbiting charity events and grand galas. She dated a prominent
doctor and dressed as classy and fashionably as any socialite.
    On the other hand, there was Erica, the
doctor. She was gritty, determined, and passionate, pushing the
envelope, and doing whatever was necessary, and right for her
patients, despite controversy. She didn’t waffle, waver, or
hesitate to tell lactation consultants off. Or perform divisive
procedures. Spencer checked around and talked with her staff. There
was more than one preacher insinuating threats towards Erica.
Spencer didn’t like that. None of the other doctors in the area
would perform the procedure.
    She was tough and strong and conducted her
doctoring like a general in battle. Yet beyond that, she was soft
spoken, sometimes unsure, always classy, and perpetually, so far
out of Spencer’s league, it wasn’t even funny.
    And beautiful. No woman should possess such
beauty without being a model. He caught her occasionally in her
scrubs and had to quickly turn away, before she saw how longingly
he was looking at her. She turned him on like no woman he knew.
Much more than even Tamira, who was trying ever so earnestly. Erica
just had an undeniable sex appeal. She had a long, curvy body, long
legs, long torso, and long, thin arms. She was graceful, and
feminine; her waist narrowed and blended into her hips like an
hourglass. It drove him nuts. He had to physically flex his fingers
to resist the urge to run his hand over her, and feel her warm
curves. Her breasts were large and firm, and oh so much sexier than
any model. She always wore expensive clothes. Even when changing to
go home, she wore designer made, tailored pantsuits, skirts and
sweaters, blouses and slacks, in attractive pastels and other
feminine colors.
    Working for her only increased his attraction
to her. She was firm and decisive, but with the tone of voice that
was cool, soft, and feminine.
    Spencer turned back to Erica’s bookkeeper. He
really didn’t know she was just twenty. Not that it mattered, she
was old enough. Tamira was a turn-on, sure. One he could find in
any strip bar, or porn magazine. Poor Tamira was eagerly trying to
seduce him. She kissed him, undressed salaciously, and did manage
to make him horny; but unfortunately, in the same way a porno flick
would have: cold and quick. Sex. That’s all Tamira could inspire:
hot, anonymous sex.
    Erica? Well, his attraction to her was
anything, but simple. It was the most complicated situation he’d
ever found himself in with a woman. He preferred that she not be
sexy, and not suggest that to him. All the