The Awakening of Dr. Brown

“Ah,” she said. But he thought she sounded wary, and he could feel her eyes on him, as if she sensed… something. Had heard something in his voice. Glancing at her, he saw that the fun and laughter had gone from her eyes, and where it had been now there was uncertainty, suspicion, even fear.

He tasted regret, a sharp bitterness on the back of his tongue. The game was slipping away. He’d lost Leroy, and didn’t know how to get him back. And if he lost Leroy, what would become of Joanna? Would he lose her, too? Forever? The thought filled him with an aching sense of loss. He suddenly knew with profound certainty that he didn’t want to lose Joanna.

“The food’s not bad,” he said, speaking rapidly, fending off despair. “But the best thing about the place is that it’s family owned and operated-very old-world. I’ve been going in there for about six months now, and I don’t know if they’ve recognized me or not, but if they have, they’re too polite to say anything.”

She said nothing for a heartbeat, then gave a sudden sharp cry and clamped one hand to the top of her head.

Ethan threw her a look, his own heart thumping. “What?”

“My hat-I forgot it. I don’t have anything-not even my glasses. And in these clothes- Oh…” She broke off, swearing under her breath. Ethan could see her struggling against the shoulder belt, tugging at her hair, trying to rake some order into it with her fingers.

“Hey,” he said, forcing laughter, “don’t worry about it. Like I told you, even if they do recognize you, they’re not going to make a fuss. They’re way too polite for that. Besides-” a break in traffic came and he made a fast left turn into the shopping center parking lot “-who’s gonna pay any attention to us? We’re just Leroy and Joanna, remember?” He glanced over at her and caught a wild, bright look in her eyes-a look that as a doctor he knew very well, had seen way too many times. Panic-pure panic.

He pulled into the first empty parking space he came to, silently cursing himself. Because it had just come to him that she was “just Joanna,” and that in a way, that was her problem.

As Joanna, she’d feel unprepared. Unprotected. Phoenix was comfortable with celebrity; she’d had a lifetime’s worth of experience in handling herself in public, coping with adoring crowds and pushy fans. Joanna Dunn, on the other hand-whomever she was-very probably had no experience with any of those things.

As Phoenix she knew how to wear disguises, keep the walls up, keep her distance. As Joanna she was vulnerable.

He put the SUV in park and turned off the key. Freed from his seat belt, he turned to her, smiling. “Here,” he murmured-or some such thing. He had no real awareness of the words he used. All he saw were her eyes, silvery in the dimness; all he heard was the distressed sound of her breathing; all he felt were the rounds of her shoulders fitting themselves sweetly into his palms. Her scent filled his nostrils, faint and heady as the first whiff of new grass in the springtime.

He saw her fleeting look of surprise when he indicated with the pressure of his fingers that she should turn, not toward him, but away. Then, with a slight giving in her shoulders and the accepting sigh of an exhalation, she bowed her head, let go of her hair and gave it into his keeping. He gathered it into his hands, concentrating on the warmth and weight and feel of it, mostly to keep himself from the paralyzing realization of what he was doing. The texture was unexpected-springy, not soft and silky as he’d imagined. But he shouldn’t have expected softness, not with this woman. She was much too vibrant, too full of life and energy for softness.

“What do you want to do with it?” he asked.

“Hmm…I dunno…braid it, I guess…” There was a pause, and then, “Y’sure you know how?”

Ethan laughed, a chuckle low in his throat, and began deftly to divide her hair into three parts. Under the heavy mass of hair her neck was warm, humid…damp with sweat. The desire to put his mouth there became so powerful he couldn’t breathe, and the lack of oxygen made him dizzy.

He had no way of knowing how many seconds passed before she murmured, “Hmm…guess you do know. Don’t think they teach that in med school. What was it, a long-haired girlfriend?”

He laughed again, not because he thought anything was amusing, but because he so badly needed the loosening effect it had on him. His body was tight with wanting her, every muscle tense with self-control. Slowly, slowly, his hands slid the length of each hank of hair, weaving in and out, exchanging, laying one over the other… Gradually, he felt the muscles in his jaws unclench and his breathing flow again.

“When I was little…” he began slowly, his voice gruff because talking about himself had never been easy. “My sister, Lolly-Lauren-had a horse. And she was nuts about that horse. It seemed to me she spent all her time brushing, combing, feeding and riding that horse. I was more than a little jealous, I guess-up to that time it had been pretty much just the two of us. Anyway, I used to hang around the stables, whining for attention, begging for something to do. Lolly was pretty bossy, and she really didn’t want anybody but her touching her precious horse, but once in a while she’d hand me a brush or something and let me help. Then, I guess she’d seen it in a magazine, or on television or something-I don’t know where-but she got this idea she wanted to braid the horse’s mane and tail. Well, she started out fine, all gung ho, but after a while…” he paused to smile at the memory. “Let’s just say, that horse had a lot of hair. And there I was, the perfect sucker. She put me up on a stool and showed me how, and I mean I stood for hours, braiding that horse’s mane. My arms ached, my back hurt, I itched… Anyway, that’s how I learned to braid hair.

“You know, come to think of it-” he leaned back to get a better look “-your hair’s just about the same color that horse’s tail was.”

She gave her rusty little guffaw. “A horse’s ass- I’m flattered.” And her voice was music to his ears. Because it was Joanna’s voice again-husky, playfully wicked.

She held herself still, head cocked at a listening angle, listening with her whole body for any signals his might send her. The rhythm of his hands, the gentle tugging…there was something magical in it, she thought, like some mysterious eastern massage therapy, maybe. Except that, instead of sending her into a state of blissful relaxation, this massage seemed to have awakened every nerve in her body. Her scalp tingled; her breasts felt so tight they hurt. The skin on her naked back burned with awareness. Nerves in the sensitive ticklish part of her flinched in anticipation of his touch. I am tinder, she thought, waiting for the spark. All it would take is a touch. One…touch.

“All done.” His voice so near sent a shiver careening between her shoulder blades. “Got anything to tie it with?”

He lifted the end of the braid and passed it over her shoulder. If he touches me, she thought… All he’d have to do is lay a hand there now…brush the backs of his fingers down the side of my neck…stroke with one finger over the bumps of my spine…

She would turn, then, and it would be so easy… He was so near, so enticingly near. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, and was overcome with a terrible sense of longing at the scent of him, like an alcoholic, she thought, savoring the smell of whiskey.

What would it be like to kiss him? She’d kissed so many men in her lifetime, why should she imagine kissing this man would be any different? And yet, she knew that it would be. Somehow, she knew. And perhaps it was because of that knowledge that the thought of kissing him filled her with a longing so intense it felt like pain. Longing…and fear, too. Fear that it might not ever happen. Fear that, for the first time in her life, with this particular man, it might not be within her power to make it happen.

She felt a surge of anger at that thought. She was Phoenix. Phoenix did not suffer rejection. Phoenix did not know self-doubt!

From somewhere a quiet voice responded: No, but apparently Joanna does.

But how can she? Phoenix argued. I can make her anything I want her to be.

And the answer came, amused: Are you sure?

“Look, Joanna-if you don’t want to go in, I understand.” He touched her arm and she jumped as if he’d burned her.

What’s the matter with you? Phoenix furiously scolded herself. Quit acting like a damned virgin!

Then it struck her, with a clarity that made her gasp. That was it in a nutshell, wasn’t it? In a very real sense, Joanna was a virgin. It might have been a long time since Phoenix had given herself to a