Tempted by the Heart Surgeon

by Lucy Ryder

  If not for that image stuck in her head, Sam was sure she wouldn’t be snuggled in some hot guy’s lap, contemplating throwing a lifetime of caution to the wind. Or then again, it could easily be the amused expression in his amber eyes that dared her to plunge right in. She was single after all, and hadn’t she just decided to take life by the horns instead of meekly allowing her grandmother to direct her path?

  Whatever it was, it was suddenly so hugely liberating that she experienced a moment’s dizziness. Besides, she was heading back to Boston in the morning and would never see any of these people ever again.

  But staring into his bourbon-colored eyes, the “something” that had stilled within her sparked abruptly to life and for just an instant it was as though—as though she knew him. Before she could tell herself how ridiculous that sounded, her heart leaped and thundered as elation rose within her along with a need that was as frightening as it was wildly thrilling.

  The guy stilled. His big hands closed over her shoulders and for one mortifying moment, Sam thought he’d push her away. Then he cupped the back of her head with one hand, the other dropping to nudge her hips closer to his.

  And the next instant, he was kissing her back.

  The instant that generously sculpted mouth opened beneath hers and applied a slight suction, it took only a half a dozen frantic heartbeats for her to lose her mind.

  And for him to completely own her.

  Or the kiss, she corrected dazedly. Own the kiss. Because owning her a minute after they’d met was about as farfetched as looking into a stranger’s eyes and imagining that soul-click.

  In some dim corner of her mind, she heard someone say, “Forget her big boy, I’m a much better dancer,” then the heat of his body seeped into hers and the rest of the bar faded away, leaving her in a world she’d only ever dreamed about. It was as though she’d finally discovered fire after wandering through a frozen wasteland for nearly twenty-eight years. Finally experiencing for herself what everyone else knew.

  His lips were softer than she’d expected, warmer. A sigh escaped her when his tongue slid along the length of hers, setting off a chain reaction that had her squirming with instant heat. Shifting closer, she reveled in the taste of him—slightly bitter from the beer he’d been drinking and something else. Something dark and delicious and uniquely male.

  Uniquely him.

  Then the kiss turned hot and carnal, and it was all she could do to keep up because her blood caught fire. The heat of the hard thighs against her bottom burned through her awful pink dress to her fluttering core and set all her senses aflame.

  In all her secret fantasies, she’d never been kissed like this—with lips and tongue and scraping teeth. Like he wanted to consume her right there in public, in front of all these strangers.

  And she was tempted to let him.

  It was that last thought that had her jerking away to stare at him in shock. “I...uh... I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, rudely returned to reality like she’d been doused with icy water. What the heck was she doing kissing a guy like they were alone and had known each other longer than a couple of minutes?

  He stared back at her through heavy-lidded eyes almost black with arousal and murmured, “I’m not,” in a voice so rough and tight with lust that she shivered. One of those delicious shivers that started at the base of her spine and rolled over her body in deep luscious waves, leaving her senses heightened and her body humming.

  Heat swept up from her jittery belly, filling her chest with the champagne she’d consumed before racing up her throat into her face in a hot wave she wasn’t altogether certain was embarrassment. Or maybe not just embarrassment.

  Then out the corner of her eye, she caught movement and turned to see Mr. Hands, the groomsman, bearing down on her like the IRS intent on an audit.

  Dammit, she cursed silently. Trust him to find her here of all places, just when she was finally beginning to enjoy the anonymity of the dimly lit bar.

  The condemnation in Jared’s eyes had her own eyes narrowing in an uncharacteristic display of temper. Decked out in his vintage wedding tuxedo, he looked ridiculously pretentious in comparison to soft faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders that needed no padding to look wide and solid and safe.

  “Amanda,” he clipped out, probably annoyed that she was fondling another man when she’d been evading his hot sweaty hands all weekend. “What are you doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Hoping to maneuver her into a tight corner, no doubt.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him for the thousandth time that her name was Samantha not Amanda when she was gripped by an almost savage need to shock that supercilious look right off his face. She suddenly wanted to rebel against everything in her life that kept her from being the woman she wanted to be. She wanted to be bold and face life head-on instead of timidly letting it control her.

  It was tempting to dispel once and for all the prim-and-proper image that had been drummed into her since childhood and behave like a normal person for once. A woman with needs and emotions; someone light-years away from the mousey, emotionless and perpetually elegant and dignified woman her grandmother expected her to be.

  Well, she thought, wiggling suggestively in the hot guy’s lap and giving herself a hot flash in the process. Damn elegant and to hell with dignified. She’d left that behind in Boston the moment she’d turned away from the sight of her fiancé and his boy toy to walk calmly from the room, shutting the door quietly behind her, leaving them in no doubt that the wedding was off.

  Ignoring Jared, she cupped the hot guy’s handsome angular jaw between her palms and smiled into his intoxicating eyes before closing the gap between their lips to place a soft lingering kiss on his mouth. Her blood heated anew when he responded with flattering enthusiasm and smoothed his big hands up the length of her spine.

  Shivering deliciously, she gave in to the wild, wanton creature inside of her. After drowning in the taste of him, she reluctantly broke the kiss, her tingling lips remaining on his for a moment longer before she eased back an inch. Staring into his eyes, she memorized the hot potent expression there and the way it made her feel. Like a hot-blooded woman a red-blooded man might desire. Just like a woman bent on experiencing everything life had to offer.

  “Duty calls,” she murmured, lightly tracing his bottom lip with one finger. Then with real regret, she slid off his lap, grateful for his supporting hands when her knees wobbled and her head spun.

  Whoa. No more shooters for you.

  Or maybe that should be no more intoxicating kisses from hot strangers. But damn. She really wanted more of that.

  “Sure you won’t stay?” he asked quietly, his eyes locked on hers. She was tempted—boy was she tempted. Then Jared called, “Amanda,” in that peremptory tone she suddenly decided she hated, because it was exactly the tone her grandmother used when she felt Sam wasn’t living up to Gilford standards. Just as Jared was exactly the kind of man the old battle-ax would approve of: good family, great pedigree, oodles of old money.

  And boring as hell.

  She shook her head regretfully. “I...can’t.”

  His gaze, dark and seductive, held hers and myriad messages passed between them that she struggled to interpret. “My loss,” he murmured, his big hand warm and comforting on hers until her fingers slid free.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ADAM POCKETED HIS key card and headed for the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby. After the Peony—Amanda, the stiff had called her—left, the evening seemed to fizzle.

  He wouldn’t go so far as to say he’d felt bereft watching her walk away but it had been pretty damn close. As if something meaningful was slipping from his grasp. And he was letting it.

  His grandmother would have said their souls had clicked but Adam knew just how corny that sounded. Much cornier than if he’d just admitt
ed that his hormones had suddenly awakened from a long hibernation and said, Mine.

  But that was just his neglected libido talking, he admitted wryly. Besides, he was getting too old for one-night stands, even if tall long-legged women dressed like prom queens suddenly seemed to have become a very personal and surprising fantasy.

  He arrived just as the doors were closing and he thrust his hand into the opening, causing the doors to bounce, then jerk back open. He stepped forward, an apology dying on his lips when he caught sight of an explosion of pink and wide startled eyes. Eyes so startlingly blue they seemed to glow beneath their luxurious fringe of dark lashes.

  Soft lips parted in a soundless gasp and she stared back at him.

  His gaze swept from the top of her tousled chestnut hair to her elegant feet, which were no longer bare. The pink strappy sandals she’d been carrying earlier made her long legs appear even longer. She looked good even in the harsh elevator lights, especially when his frank appraisal caused color to rush beneath soft creamy skin.

  That embarrassed self-consciousness was in direct contrast to the bold seductress of a couple hours ago. It caught and held his interest even more than the pink peony dress and long limbs.

  Abruptly realizing that he was preventing the doors from closing, and that the elevator’s other very pregnant occupant was staring at him with wide-eyed interest, Adam murmured, “Evening, ladies,” and stepped into the car to punch his floor number. Once the doors slid closed, he propped a shoulder against the wall and studied the woman he’d met in the bar, looking at him as though she hadn’t had her tongue in his mouth a couple of hours ago.

  “Um...hi again,” she said, trying not to squirm even as heat rose up her neck into her face. Her voice, as low and husky as he remembered, gave him a few bad moments when he recalled the way she’d murmured save me against his mouth before kissing his socks off.

  “I see you escaped your jailer.”

  She looked momentarily confused. “My jail—? Oh, you mean Jared? Nope.” She grimaced. “We’re not together,” she explained as the very pregnant young woman—also in an explosion of eye-popping pink tulle and organza—snorted.

  “No woman in her right mind would be with Jared,” the young mother-to-be said, as she sucked in a shaky breath and rubbed her enormous belly. “He’s an accountant and you know how they are.”

  “Daphne,” Amanda whispered aghast, grimacing an apology as Adam’s smile widened.

  “What?”

  Amanda flicked her gaze in his direction as the elevator rose. “Maybe he’s an accountant,” he heard her whisper.

  Before he could reassure them that he wasn’t, Daphne shook her head firmly. “Nope,” she whispered back loudly. “No way. Just look at him. Does any of that say accountant to you?”

  “How do you know?” Amanda demanded sotto voce, coloring beneath his stare. “It’s not like accountants look a certain way.”

  “Of course they do,” Daphne argued. “There’s Pete and Rowland and don’t forget Jared and his brother Mark and oh—”

  The last was in response to the jolt as the elevator came to an abrupt and unexpected stop. It swayed violently, prompting the two women to clutch frantically at the rail behind them to keep from being thrown to the floor.

  The lights flickered once, brightened and just before they blinked out completely, he saw Daphne’s eyes widen as she grabbed her belly. “Uh-oh,” she said, and Adam, who’d spent enough time during his internship catching babies, knew instantly what it meant.

  “Don’t panic, Daph,” he heard Amanda say tightly. “I’m sure it’s only a computer glitch. We’ll be on our way in a minute and then you can relax in a nice warm bath while I call Stan—”

  “That’s not what the uh-oh was for,” Daphne interrupted on a thin wail. “I think my water just broke.”

  “It’s all right,” Amanda soothed. “No one can blame you for not having control of your bladder at a time like this. I’m sure...um...” She paused and Adam could feel her looking his way.

  “Adam,” he supplied helpfully.

  “Oh. Right,” she said in a tone that told Adam she was recalling in perfect detail that she’d been up close and personal with a man whose name she didn’t know. “I’m sure...um...Adam will forgive you this one lapse. Besides, it’s entirely understandable in a woman who’s almost ten months pregnant.”

  “Eight months,” Daphne said with a tight, dry laugh.

  Adam drawled, “I think she means she’s in labor,” turning to feel for the emergency button on the panel.

  The emergency lights finally flickered on just in time for him to see Amanda staring at him in open-mouthed horror.

  “Labor?” she squeaked, her eyes wide as she dropped her gaze to stare at the other woman’s swollen belly. Her expression told him she half expected an alien to pop out any second. “But—but you can’t,” she said fiercely, clutching Daphne’s arm. “It’s not time. Tell him,” she ordered frantically. “Tell the hunk he’s mistaken. Tell that baby it’s not time, because if I remember correctly, babies are supposed to stay there nine months. Nine months, Daph.” She broke off and sucked in a shaky breath. “Besides,” she continued tightly after a short battle with her slipping control. “Stan isn’t even here. You can’t give birth without Stan.”

  “Yeah, well—” Daphne wheezed out a laugh as she clutched her belly “—I don’t think this kid is about to wait for Stan to get here. Oh, God,” she wailed and grabbed Amanda’s arm. “I hope you know something about birthing babies, hon, ’cause you’re it.”

  Amanda yelped as her arm turned white around the younger woman’s grip. Adam eyed her curiously, because it was obvious that she was battling to remain in control of a situation that had all the hallmarks of going to hell in a handbasket. “I know zip about babies, Daphne, let alone how to help one into this world.”

  “Fortunately,” Adam said briskly, digging out his cell phone to toss at Amanda. “I do.” He checked his watch while she fumbled the catch, finally looking up to find them both staring at him as though he’d suggested something indecent. “I’m a doctor,” he told them absently, as he calculated that it had been about four minutes since the last contraction.

  Amanda looked relieved. “A doctor? Please tell me you’re a gynecologist.”

  “Call 911,” he ordered, ignoring her question and taking Daphne’s arm. He didn’t think either of them needed to know he was a cardiothoracic surgeon. He gently pushed Daphne to her hands and knees. “This position will help,” he murmured, briskly rubbing her back. “Explain the situation,” he addressed the woman huddled in the corner with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. “Tell them to send an ambulance and the fire brigade.”

  “Fire brigade?” the two women yelped, staring at him with similar expressions of horror.

  “You mean there might be a fire?” Daphne squealed, slapping at Adam’s hands as she shot upright to glare at him. “I am not giving birth in the middle of a fire!”

  “No,” Amanda said, her wide blue eyes clinging to his as she punched in the emergency numbers with shaking fingers. “I think it’s in case maintenance can’t get the computers rebooted in time and they have to break us out of here.”

  Adam nodded reassuringly. “That’s right,” he soothed gently, reassessing his Peony as Daphne blew out a long breath and grunted, “Breaking us out sounds good. Can they do it now?”

  “Soon,” Adam promised. “For now, all you need to do is concentrate on breathing through the contractions. No pushing, okay? Just breathing.”

  After relaying the information to the 911 dispatcher, Amanda turned narrowed eyes on him. “You better know what you’re d-doing,” she stuttered in a fierce undertone over Daphne’s heaving form. “Because I wasn’t kidding. I h-have no idea what I’m supposed to do other than b-boil water and get fresh towels before hiding until it’s all over.” />
  Adam grabbed her hand and tugged her down to the floor, guiding her hand to Daphne’s lower back. “Trust me,” he said cheerfully, a quick grin lighting his face. “I know what I’m doing.” Maybe she’d stay calm if he gave her something to do. “Look at me,” he ordered softly when he caught the quick panicked sound of her breathing. Her wide eyes flew to his and he said firmly, “Concentrate on breathing evenly. Can you do that?”

  She swallowed, a quick spasmodic movement of her throat, before nodding. “Good,” he murmured with an encouraging grin. “Now rub. It probably feels like her back is breaking. Keep rubbing and don’t worry. Daphne and her baby know what to do.”

  “I do?” Daphne panted, sounding a little shaky. “I hate to break it to you, handsome, but this is my first time. I have no idea what to expect.”

  Amanda gulped, and Adam caught sight of her pink tongue emerging to swipe nervously across her soft plump lip. “I thought you said you went to Lamaze classes?”

  “I did,” Daphne grunted. “But they didn’t say anything about giving birth in an elevator. Nothing,” she yelped, squeezing her eyes closed, “in any of the books I read said anything...about...giving birth in an elevator.” Her voice got louder until she was almost yelling.

  Amanda flinched, her eyes wide as she frantically rubbed the other woman’s back and flicked a look at him. “Shouldn’t she be lying down?” she hissed, but Adam shook his head, enjoying the drama despite himself.

  “This position is more natural for now. Ideally, when the time comes, she should be squatting.”

  Both women looked appalled. “Squatting?” Daphne screeched, “If you think I’m squatting, buster, you’re insane. In fact,” she batted their hands away and grabbed the railing behind her before hauling herself to her feet. “There is absolutely no way I’m giving birth in an elevator, so just forget it. In fact, I’ve decided I’m not doing this. Not here, not ever.”