Читать книгу: «It's Always Been You»
They just crossed the line...
Newly minted Dr. Lovely “Love” Washington plans to devote her medical career to helping women. But her own happy ending eludes her. Then one morning she wakes up in a Vegas hotel under the sheets with the very familiar and extremely charming Dr. Drake Jackson. The longtime best friends didn’t only become overnight lovers. They got married, even if neither remembers tying the knot. And Love is tormented by sizzling memories of the passion-filled night they shared.
Matters of the heart have always fascinated Drake. Now the aspiring cardiothoracic surgeon and in-demand playboy must confront his growing feelings for his oldest, most alluring, off-limits friend. Amid a disastrous family reunion and the unwanted attention of Love’s persistent ex-boyfriend, the newlyweds are digging themselves deeper into a deception that has to end. Or does it? Has Drake finally found what’s been right in front of him all along—the true Love of his life?
“Drake, what did you just do?”
Drake rubbed his chin, a frown on his face. “Uh, I kissed you.”
“Yeah, you did. Why did you do that?”
“Because you wanted me to.”
His answer was so matter-of-fact that she backed up a step. How the hell did he know that? “You can’t just keep kissing me like that. You did it in Vegas, too. Just kissed me for no reason.”
“You were upset, and I wanted you to feel better.”
“So you kissed me?”
He sighed, rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time.”
“And today?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated.
Love’s curiosity got the best of her and she asked, “And how do you know I wanted you to kiss me?”
He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I can’t describe it. I can always tell when a woman wants me to kiss her.”
“So you just do it?”
“Of course not.”
“In this case you did.”
“It’s you. I kissed you because you wanted me to.”
Dear Reader,
Dr. Lovely Grace Washington burst into my life one morning in 2010 while I sat with my mother in the hospital. The name struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I pictured a beautiful, successful resident doctor who couldn’t stand her name and demanded everyone call her “Love.”
I spent so much time at the hospital that I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the lives of doctors. They devote so much time and energy into their work, and I wanted to give them a little happiness.
If you’ve read an Elle Wright novel, you’ve met Love in one of my previous books. Although she played a small role, I couldn’t help but want to tell her story. Since I love a good friends-to-lovers story, I figured her best friend would be perfect for the headstrong Love.
I’m a graduate of the University of Michigan, and I love bringing readers into Ann Arbor and Southeast Michigan. I’m elated that you’ve joined me on this journey!
Love,
Elle
It’s Always Been You
Elle Wright
There was never a time when ELLE WRIGHT wasn’t about to start a book, already deep in a book or just finishing one. She grew up believing in the importance of reading, and became a lover of all things romance when her mother gave her her first romance novel. She lives in Southeast Michigan.
MILLS & BOON
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To my mother, Regina. You are missed.
Acknowledgments
I thank my God for His protection, His provision, His love. I would be nothing without Him.
To Jason; my children, Asante, Kaia, Masai; and the rest of my family—I love you all BIG. There are so many of you, I can’t name everyone. But you know who you are. I learned long ago that you don’t have to be blood to be family. That couldn’t be more true. I appreciate the time, the talks, the hugs, the tears...everything. I thank you all for your unwavering support.
To my agent, Sara—I thank you for believing in me.
To Shannon Criss, Glenda Howard and the Harlequin Kimani Family—I feel so honored to be a part of this extraordinary family. I dreamed of being a Harlequin author one day, and that dream came true.
Speaking of dreams, I still have to pinch myself sometimes. This writing journey has been amazing. I’ve met so many wonderful authors and readers. I feel so blessed. Thank you all for accepting me and encouraging me. You all mean the world to me!
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Dear Reader
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter 1
Dr. Lovely Washington frowned when she felt the sun beaming down on her. Morning already? She patted the mattress, pausing when she felt cool skin under her palm. Drake. She pinched him. He pushed her hand away, grumbling something incoherent.
She smacked him. “Drake, what are you doing in my bed? And please...close the blinds. The light is killing me.”
“Whashuleafmelone,” he mumbled.
“I won’t leave you alone until you get up and shut out the sun,” she said, pinching her forehead. “My head hurts. And aren’t you late or something?”
When he didn’t move, she went to throw the sheet off, then stopped abruptly. Frowning, she patted her bare breasts. Uh-oh. Where is my shirt? Reluctantly, she slipped her hand under the sheet, over her stomach, her belly button, her—
She sat up abruptly. “Oh, my God, I’m naked!” Her mind raced to remember how she’d ended up like that. Last night was a blur. They’d booked a two-bedroom suite at the Bellagio because her family reunion was there. Two rooms, two beds. Yet Drake was in her bed and she was naked. “Oh no.”
Drake had agreed to come because she hated going to these things by herself, and she wasn’t particularly thrilled to face her family alone after her breakup with Derrick. When she needed someone—and she did—Drake was always there. He was her very best friend, since the age of two.
Her night had taken a turn for the worse when she’d received a call from the hospital that she’d lost a patient. Drake had dragged her out onto the Strip to distract her. That was all she remembered.
She held her face in her hands, praying the shooting pain in her head would stop. She remembered something else. Tequila. Lots of it. Peeking through her fingers at Drake, she sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t tell if he was naked. He was lying on his stomach, his bare back gleaming at her in the sunlight. The sheet was draped low. Gently, she lifted the thin material.
“Drake!” she screeched, digging her nails into his back.
He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Ouch! What?”
“Get up,” she ordered through clenched teeth. “Now.”
He blinked and glanced at her with one eye. “What happened?”
Pulling the sheet with her, she hopped out of the bed. “Look at you,” she said, pointing at his bare ass. “You’re naked! Oh, my God.”
“Oh, shit.” He rolled out of bed onto the floor with a loud thump. Reaching up, he pulled the balled-up comforter with him. He finally stood up with the thick cover wrapped around his waist.
There was no movement—just eyes on eyes, heavy breathing and loud thoughts.
“Why are you naked?” Her heart raced as she watched his gaze drop to the bed.
Drake ran a hand through his wavy hair. “Why are you naked?”
She swallowed past a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “I asked you first,” she croaked.
“Obviously, I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why are you nervous?” she hissed. Drake was normally a calm and collected person, but they’d been friends long enough that she could recognize when he was nervous. After all, they’d been best friends for almost their whole lives.
His bloodshot eyes flashed to hers and his forehead creased. “I can’t remember. I just remember walking on the Strip doing shots.”
“What do you mean you can’t remember anything? You’re naked!” she shrieked.
He pressed a hand to his temple. “Love, please, be quiet. You’re making my head hurt worse. I don’t need continuous updates on our lack of clothing.”
She clutched the sheet to her chest. Tears pricked her eyes. “Drake, did we...?”
He held a hand up. “Don’t say it. There has to be a good explanation.”
“But we’re both...” She dashed a tear off her cheek.
“Don’t cry. That’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she hissed, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He covered his eyes. “Pull the sheet back up, Love.”
Realizing she’d let it fall to the floor, she screamed and scrambled to pick it up, twisting the fabric around her body. “This can’t be happening.”
He motioned toward the bathroom. “Put some clothes on, for Christ’s sake. This is already bad enough.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Go in the bathroom,” he demanded.
“You go in the bathroom,” she countered, clutching the sheet in her palms.
“Love.”
“What?”
He stalked toward her and she retreated until the back of her knees hit a chair. Overcorrecting, she stumbled into the seat.
Drake held out a hand and she took it and let him pull her to her feet. Then she shoved him away. “Get away from me, you ass.”
He nudged her toward the en suite bathroom. “Look, get dressed. We’re never going to figure this out standing here like this.”
“I hate you,” she growled as she stomped into the bathroom. Kicking the door closed, she leaned against it. A hotel robe was hanging on a hook and she snatched it and slipped it on. Once she secured the tie, she whipped the door open and stormed back into the bedroom toward a now clothed Drake.
His back was to her and he was murmuring curses to himself. She jumped on his back and wrapped an arm around his neck. “You took advantage of me.” With her other hand, she yanked his hair.
He fumbled with her weight and they both crashed down on the mattress. She flailed her arms and kicked at him until he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed.
“Calm down,” he pleaded. “Stop trying to fight me.” The vein on the side of his temple jumped and his biceps bunched as he held her arms above her head.
Love was angry, but she was something else, too. Something that she’d never felt before. Well, tried to never feel before. His hard chest pressed against her soft one made it kind of difficult not to feel aroused.
“Get off of me, Drake.” Needing to put some distance between them—because the last thing she needed was to be aroused—she bucked against him.
“Love, would you just...” He sighed, his hooded bedroom eyes boring into hers. Bedroom eyes? Her stomach fluttered and a warmth spread over her. She cursed her body for responding in ways she wouldn’t dare admit.
Is he doing this on purpose? His eyes stayed on hers, seeming to look straight into her soul. Maybe he wasn’t trying to turn her on, but he was.
“Promise me.” His husky voice seemed to light a fire in her belly. “If I let you go you have to keep your hands to yourself.”
“You took advantage of me,” she muttered, her voice shaky. The anger she felt was melting under his gaze. Unclenching her fists, she let the tension ooze out of her arms. She chewed on her bottom lip. His breath fanned across her mouth and she couldn’t help but entertain the idea of letting him take advantage of her.
“We don’t know that,” he said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Neither of us remembers last night. You can’t say for sure that we did anything but sleep.”
“But we were naked,” she murmured. Why am I whispering?
He squeezed her wrists. “Stop saying that. Let’s concentrate on the present.”
“Well, get your naked chest off of me and I’ll try.”
He jumped up, leaving her splayed across the bed, angry with her body for betraying her and with her mind for its wayward thoughts. She glared at the textured ceiling and prayed for a time machine that could zap her into yesterday, where Drake was merely annoying—not annoyingly sexy. Would she ever be able to look at him as the friend he was without thinking about his mussed hair and lean physique? Let alone the fine line of hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared under the waistband of the low-riding sweatpants he’d donned. She tightened the belt on the robe and sat up, smoothing her hair back.
“What do you remember?” he asked, in the tone he often used on his patients. Detached.
Obviously, he wasn’t as affected as she was. Ouch. She cleared her throat. “Lana called. One of my patients went into labor and was admitted to the hospital, possible peripartum cardiomyopathy,” she answered, as if she was reporting to her chief resident during rounds. “Instead of paging me, she had paged Blake. The mother insisted on a natural birth, but her heart couldn’t take the labor. She died. I was upset that I wasn’t there, so you took me out to get my mind off of it.”
He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling and muttered a string of curses. “I keep replaying last night over and over in my head. I can’t remember how we got in bed. I remember the bar, the shots. You were finally loosening up. When we left Caesars, you were tipsy, so I had to kind of hold on to you. I can see us laughing at random people on the way back to the room. Then we ran into a few of our high school classmates. They asked us to go out with them, but you didn’t want to, so we headed back here. Then...” He averted his gaze, swallowed roughly.
She bowed her head and wondered what he’d just remembered. They were friends. Best friends, in fact. They’d grown up finishing each other’s sentences. Love knew all of Drake’s “tells” and was certain he’d just filled in some blanks.
“The bar and walk I remember,” she croaked. “That’s about it.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. She’d been very inebriated, inconsolable over the loss of her patient. Drake had done what he always did—make it better, help her forget.
“Hopefully, it’ll come back to us later. For now, we can’t assume anything happened.”
They’d shared the same bed many times during their lifelong friendship, and nothing had ever happened. Not even an accidental brush of arms. Hell, he’d seen her in her underwear plenty of times. But...
“We were still clearly on our own sides of the bed,” he continued, without meeting her gaze. “There’s no clue—”
“I feel sore,” she blurted out. “My whole body does.”
“You were drunk. You could’ve fallen or something.”
Love wondered when Drake had turned into Mr. Positivity. The proof was staring them right in the face. The bed. She scanned the rest of the room before zeroing in on the bed again. Frowning, she walked closer to it and ran a finger over the tiny bright red spot. Closing her eyes, she gasped. “Oh, my God!”
“Stop saying that,” he said, between clenched teeth.
“It’s blood. There’s your clue. We had sex.”
“Love, you’re not a virgin. The blood is probably from a paper cut or something.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
He glared at her. “Just...be quiet. Let me think.”
“You know we had sex,” she muttered under her breath. And the worst part? She didn’t remember the details. If she was going to participate in something that would more than likely ruin her friendship with Drake, she would’ve liked to remember it.
Chapter 2
Drake had a headache. And it was getting worse by the minute. He peered down at the tiny speck of blood on the stark white sheet. Shit.
The evidence was there. They’d woken up in bed together naked, she’d admitted her body was sore, and now there was visual proof. Not that he needed it. He knew exactly what had happened between them, but he couldn’t say the word out loud. The memories were coming fast and furious with each passing minute, with her standing in front of him in nothing but the hotel bathrobe.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Nothing.” He cracked his knuckles, rolled his neck and plopped down next to her. When she scooted away from him, Drake tried to tell himself that he wasn’t bothered. “We just have to deal with it. It happened.”
She twisted the tie of the robe around her fingers. “I know we have two bedrooms, but maybe you should move into a separate room for the remainder of the trip.”
He hated this. Love was his best friend. They’d spent countless hours together, shared many a hotel room and even a bed—platonically. He’d never thought anything else about it—until now. “What’s that going to prove? Apparently, we’ve already seen everything there is to see.”
“That’s not funny.”
It wasn’t; he knew that.
“What if...it happens again?” she whispered.
His eyes snapped to hers. “It won’t. I’m never drinking with you again.”
She lowered her gaze. “You don’t have to say it like that,” she mumbled.
“How am I supposed to say it?” he asked incredulously. “You’re my home girl. We’ve never done anything remotely close to this.”
“We can’t say that anymore,” she muttered under her breath.
They exchanged glances before turning away. “I guess not,” he agreed.
“I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship.”
“It won’t.” As much as he hoped it wouldn’t, the very conversation they were having indicated that it might. Theirs was a relationship of comfort as much as it was one of respect and unconditional love, not marred by the hurt feelings and expectations that often accompany a love affair. Now, he couldn’t even make eye contact with her—a fact that didn’t go unnoticed.
“You can’t even look at me, Drake.”
“Neither can you,” he retorted.
Love sighed and stood up. “Maybe I should just hop in the shower.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe you can soak in the bathtub,” he suggested. “It’ll help with the soreness.”
Without another word, she walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Once he heard the lock click, he fell back on the bed. As he listened to running water, he ran a hand down his face. He needed Advil and quickly.
They’d had sex. But something didn’t seem right. What had made this time different from every other time? Why would they choose this trip to get busy? The sight of Love clutching the sheet against her breasts for dear life haunted him. She was scared and teary-eyed. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping to erase the image.
He hoped the bath would relieve her anxieties. Deciding to take a shower himself, he slid off the bed and walked into the second bedroom. The Bellagio was Love’s favorite hotel in Vegas and she’d insisted on splurging on the suite. There was a separate living room and two bedrooms—one for each of them. His en suite had a steam shower and hers had a soaking whirlpool tub.
He padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower. After waiting for the steam to fill the room, he stepped in. He placed a hand on the tile and let the water beat against his back, loosening his tense muscles.
His hand massaged her back as they burrowed into the mattress. Their lips touched in the softest of kisses. She caressed his face as he suckled on her bottom lip.
Drake shook his head as if to shoo away the vivid memories, and lost his balance. When he reached out to grab the bar, he slipped on the shower floor and landed on his ass. So much for relaxation. Taking a deep breath, he sat there and rubbed the water out of his eyes.
He brushed his mouth against her chin and trailed his tongue to the hollow of her neck.
He scooted back against the shower wall, letting the water drizzle over him.
When he looked at her, he felt like he was drowning in her eyes. He felt his stomach tighten as he smoothed his hands over her thighs. She moaned and murmured her approval. He traced the band of her underwear with his thumb before he slipped a hand inside. He parted her slick folds with his finger and she purred. He thought he would explode. He loved to hear her satisfied groans. Kissing her deeply and possessively, he lowered himself on top of her.
Drake leaned his head against the tile as more memories rushed back to him.
Love wrapped her long legs around his waist and they linked fingers, gazing into each other’s eyes. He wanted her unlike anyone else. He wanted to claim her and make her his forever.
“I want you,” he whispered.
She smiled. “Have me.”
He kissed her nose, then her chin. His mouth closed around her breast and he heard her gasp. His tongue swirled around her nipple until she dug her nails into his biceps. Releasing the nipple, he kissed his way over to the other one, taking it into his mouth and giving it the same attention. Her nails scraped against his scalp as he kissed his way down to her navel.
Drake closed his eyes as his body reacted to the memory. His heart pumped with excitement.
He began to enter her, and—
“Drake!”
He jumped and immediately registered the cold water pulsing down on him. Cursing, he stood up, pushed the shower door open, and stepped out.
The knocking continued. “Drake! Can you hear me?”
“What?” he yelled.
“The concierge is here,” Lovely told him.
Swearing, he wrapped a towel around his waist and yanked the door open, practically pulling her into the bathroom.
She tried to regain her balance by grabbing him. Her hair was wet, her face flushed. Her hazelnut-colored skin was still moist. Grabbing her waist, he steadied her.
When their eyes met, she pulled back. “He’s out in the sitting area,” she said, tugging on her robe.
“Did you ask him what he wanted?” The small opening in the bathrobe gave him a glimpse of her breast and he tried not to look. Really. He didn’t want to remember taking it into his mouth. He let his eyes wander over Love’s curves. If there was a contest for best female anatomy, she’d win hands down. Her skin was flawless; her hair was like an ebony waterfall. And she was all natural—no weave, no acrylics, no color contacts and no silicone.
“Drake, did you hear what I said?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“I said he asked for you,” she told him. “Said he had something to give you.”
Adjusting his towel, he secured the knot. “Can you...?”
“Oh.” She hurried out of the bathroom, bumping into the door on the way out.
He slipped his sweatpants back on hurriedly. When he came out of the bathroom, Love was sitting on the bed, shoulders slouched. Grabbing a T-shirt, he pulled it on. He wondered if she’d remembered anything. His thoughts drifted to his roaming hands...her flat, quivering stomach...the sultry moans coming from her full lips. Shaking his head, he strode past her and into the living room.
The concierge greeted him with a wide smile. “Good morning, Dr. Jackson. I trust you had a wonderful night.” He shook his hand.
“What can I do for you?” Drake asked.
Love appeared in the doorway. She folded her arms across her robe and leaned against the frame.
Drake shifted his attention away from her and back to the concierge, who was eyeing Love with interest. Drake cleared his throat. “How can I help you?”
The short man coughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t,” Drake told him.
“I just thought you might like this,” he said, holding out a small box.
Drake grabbed the box and examined it. “What’s this?”
The concierge laughed. “Very funny, Dr. Jackson.” He patted him on his shoulder. “We rushed this up as soon as it was sized.”
Opening the box, Drake gaped at the huge diamond ring. “Why did you bring me this?”
The man shifted. “You ordered it, Dr. Jackson. Last night.”
His headache suddenly grew worse. “I didn’t order this.”
“You and the missus were in the hotel store and you purchased it.”
Drake pretended he didn’t hear Love’s gasp or feel her body leaning up against his back as she gawked at the ring in his hand. “The missus? What the hell are you talking about? I’m not married.”
“Uh, sir, you and your wife approached the front desk attendant and asked to purchase the ring from the hotel jewelry store.” The man motioned to Love. “It was around three o’clock this morning. You told him you were on your way to your wedding.”
“My what?” Drake bellowed, struggling to remember that part of the evening. “This has to be a mistake. I’m not married. And what kind of jewelry store is open at three o’clock in the morning?”
“W-well, you insisted,” the concierge stuttered. “Your wife spotted the ring in the display case. You paid for it with your credit card and she gave us her ring size. Trust me, it was a legitimate transaction.”
Advil. Better yet, Vicodin. He sat on the edge of the couch and pinched his forehead. Could this day get any worse? It wasn’t enough that he had made love to his best friend and remembered only bits of it. Obviously, there was more to last night than sex.
“Are you sure, sir?” Love asked. “Maybe someone stole Drake’s wallet and used his credit card to purchase this ring?”
The concierge sucked in a deep breath. “Ma’am, perhaps the problem was too many drinks?”
Drake flew to his feet, twisted the man’s lapels in his fists and pulled him closer—nose to nose. “Watch your mouth. Perhaps you got the situation wrong.” He let him go, shoving him back a bit.
After straightening his tie, the concierge smoothed a hand over his suit coat. “I’m sorry, Dr. Jackson. But you purchased the ring. I’m sure we can pull up the security cameras.” He drew an envelope out of his inside pocket. “And this was sent over via courier this morning.”
Drake snatched the envelope and ripped it open. Love rested a hand on his arm and he glanced at her. She was stunning, and she smelled like warm vanilla. Forcing his gaze away, he pulled the thick paper out and scanned it. Sighing, he handed it to her.
“Oh, my God!”
Drake rolled his eyes. “You said this was around three?” he asked the concierge.
He nodded. “Yes, according to Bill, the manager in charge. By the way, I wanted to come here in person to let you know that we’ve upgraded you to the honeymoon suite.”
“This can’t be happening,” Love mumbled.
“Honeymoon suite?” Drake asked.
“Yes. To show our appreciation for your business.”
Running his hand through his hair, Drake told him, “I don’t need to switch rooms.”
“We’ve already made the arrangements,” the concierge insisted. “A bellboy will be here shortly to collect your things and transfer them to your new accommodations.”
“This is Vegas.” Drake crossed his arms over his chest. “People get married here all the time. Why upgrade us?”
“Well, after the amount you spent in our hotel store, it’s our pleasure.”
Drake didn’t want to ask the question, but he had to. “How much is the ring?” he groaned.
“This is an original design, worth more than the price you paid.”
“How much?” he repeated.
“We agreed on a discounted price of $15,000.”
Love let out a colorful curse, then covered her mouth.
“Fifteen thousand?” Drake roared. “Are you crazy? They knew we were drinking and they still let me pay that much money for a ring?”
“Like I said, sir, you insisted,” the man responded.
“Thank you,” Love told the concierge. “We appreciate your hospitality. Can you leave us alone for now? We need a moment.” She walked him toward the door. More like pushed him. “And we appreciate the gesture, but the honeymoon suite is not necessary.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Jackson,” the man said, with a wide smile. “Please let us know if you change your mind.”
“We will,” she assured him. “Thank you again. Have a good day.”
“I will and—”
She closed the door before the man could finish his sentence.
Drake clutched the ring box in his hand. “I spent $15,000 on a ring, Love.”
She squeezed his shoulder. “Drake, we’ll figure this out. We’ll find the receipt and try to return it.”
“Good luck with that. They sold it at a discount. It was probably a final sale.”
“We have to find your wallet,” she said, hurrying into her suite bedroom.
He followed her. She picked a pair of discarded pants off the floor and shoved her hands into the pockets. He checked his coat and discovered his wallet was there. He opened it, leafed through the receipts and found nothing. “It’s not here. I’m screwed,” he said, dropping the wallet on the dresser.
She propped her hands on his shoulders. “Drake, we got married. We don’t remember our wedding. We had sex, after almost thirty years of innocent friendship. Screwed is an understatement. But all is not lost, because we still have our brains. So I say we go find the—” she glanced at the wedding certificate “—Hunk O’ Burning Love Wedding Chapel and try to get this thing annulled. Then we can check with the jewelry store.”
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