by Lucy Ryder
It was only when she was alone in the elevator that she recognized the roiling emotions for what they were. Jealousy. She was jealous of the closeness she’d sensed between Adam and the head paediatric nurse.
And if that didn’t make her a pathetic fool, she didn’t know what did.
* * *
It should have been easy for Adam to put Ms. Boston Socialite firmly out of his mind. He’d learned early on that he couldn’t control everything and then put all his energy into doing just that. He’d focused on acing high school and then med school, needing to prove to himself that he’d been awarded the Stanford scholarship because he deserved it.
He’d worked two jobs until Coco swept into his life, becoming much more than a mentor. She’d arranged for him to work at the hospital so he could focus on medicine and bullied him to eat properly. At first, he’d been too proud to accept her help, but she’d simply told him that she was protecting her investment. When he’d realized that helping him was helping her get over the death of someone she’d loved, he’d accepted—albeit reluctantly—then worked his ass off to prove she hadn’t been wrong about him.
There’d been women, of course, but he’d never allowed anyone to become a distraction from what was important; and that was overcoming his past and becoming the best cardiothoracic surgeon on the West Coast.
He’d been perfectly happy with the status quo, seeking out women when the need arose, all the while focusing his energies on professional goals. Then he’d met Amanda, who’d turned out to be Coco’s Sammie, and his focus had shattered.
Okay, maybe not shattered, but she’d jolted him out of the nice little groove his life had become and made him want something he hadn’t let himself want in a very long time.
He wanted a connection.
Ironic as hell, considering the woman wanted nothing—except distance—from him. Even worse, he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to look forward to seeing her in the surgical observation room until she stopped coming.
And damn if he didn’t miss her.
He scowled at the thought. Damn the woman, and damn the effect she had on him.
Then, before he’d realized he’d come to the decision, he found himself heading to the floors housing the hospital’s top management late the following Friday. He’d been on his rounds when an idea had popped into his head fully formed.
The best way to get Samantha out of his system, he decided, was to spend some time with her and see how she handled a day in Juniper Falls where he was due for his monthly outreach visit. It was where the foundation had been conceived—and where he’d grown up. He was hoping the differences in their upbringing would cure him of his growing obsession with a woman that was way out of his social league.
It was only when he saw Coco sitting in reception, frowning at the computer screen, that he realized how late it was. The only other illumination came from one corner lamp.
“Adam,” Coco said when he opened the door. She looked surprised to see him. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I uh—” His mind went blank for a couple of beats before abruptly coming back online. “Nothing’s wrong but I was looking for Samantha and only just realized how late it is.”
Coco frowned and turned her attention back to the screen. “Sammie? Why?”
He thought about leaving but then firmed his jaw. Dammit, he wasn’t that awkward kid he’d been at fifteen screwing himself up inside over the most popular girl in school. Giving in to the discomfort, he rubbed the back of his neck and said as casually as he could, “I’m flying out to Juniper Falls in the morning and thought she might like to see what Galahad is all about. She’s been here over a month and aside from meeting some of our recipients, she knows next to nothing about the foundation.”
“Great idea.” She waved her arm to the passage that led to the offices before resuming her keyboard clacking. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.” She paused and sent him a quick grimace. “You just missed her though. She went out to dinner on a—”
“Date?” he interrupted so sharply that Coco looked up, her expression oddly arresting. Embarrassed by his outburst he brushed it aside with, “Never mind,” his brows drawing together over the unpleasant emotions tightening the back of his skull at the realization that while he hadn’t had a date in—heck, he couldn’t remember—Samantha was out to dinner.
He knew exactly what the emotion was but it had been at least twenty years since he’d felt it, and he couldn’t understand why it was emerging now.
“Do you have her cell number? I need to get an early start.”
Coco grabbed a small notepad off the receptionist’s desk and scribbled something. She tore off the top sheet and thrust it at him.
“What time do you plan to leave?”
“About five, why?”
“Better pick her up at four thirty with hot, sweet coffee. She’s not an easy morning person. Oh, and Adam—” She waited for him to meet her gaze and after a couple of beats said, “Give her a chance.”
Confusion tightened his forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“Sammie isn’t anything like your mother,” she said gently, her eyes dark and soft with a compassion that he abruptly wished wasn’t focused on him. Dammit, he wasn’t some orphan.
“I know that—” he began irritably only to have Coco interrupt.
“Do you?” she drawled softly, one brow arching up her forehead as though he were a little dense.
Frustration grabbed him by the throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wanted to tell her to mind her own business but she’d been mother, mentor and friend to him when no one else had cared.
“It means I know you too well,” she said gently, pushing away from the desk, a challenge gleaming in the eyes that locked with his. “It means that every relationship you’ve had since we met has been with social butterflies. Relationships that had an expiration date even before they started.”
“That isn’t relevant,” he growled. “Besides, Samantha and I do not have a relationship outside of the foundation.”
Coco clucked her disappointment. “Do you think I haven’t seen the way you look at each other when you think no one is watching? You’re interested, Adam, but you’re so determined to paint all socialites with the same brush as your mother that you’ll overlook the fact that Sammie is warm and generous and funny—absolutely nothing like those other women.”
What could he say to that but, “This is for the foundation,” before turning and walking away.
Of course, Coco had to have the last word but she let him get to the door before saying smugly, “Oh, and in case you wondered—she’s interested too.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAM BLINKED BLEARILY up at the man leaning casually against the wall outside her apartment, looking alert and rested like it wasn’t the middle of the night. His eyes took a leisurely journey over her and by the time they returned to her face, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
The expression in his gaze sent a buzz of sensation zinging through her, clearing away the last remnants of sleep. Wondering if she was still dreaming about seeing him, standing in the exact same spot and with the same predatory expression in his eyes, Sam shoved the wild tangle of hair off her face and rasped, “Adam?”
One dark brow arched and his eyes darkened. “Expecting someone else?”
Even in her befuddled state, she caught the bite in his words and wondered what the heck he was mad about. It wasn’t like she’d arrived on his doorstep in the middle of the night, dragging him from a deep sleep, then looking at him like he’d committed some heinous crime.
Shaking her head to clear it, she inhaled, swearing she could smell coffee. She must be dreaming or maybe it was part of the same Adam hallucination? “What are you doing here?” she rasped.
He was silent a beat before saying, “Our fiel
d trip.” And when she continued to stare at him, said, “You did get my message, didn’t you? I tried calling but your phone was off.”
“Wha—?” She inhaled, hoping the cool air would clear her head. It had been a while since she’d been this close to Adam and it was messing with her head. “Oh, right. Yes, I—” At his arched brow, she broke off. Her hand tightened on the doorknob and she exhaled with a whoosh. “Sorry, you’d better come in.”
He narrowed his gaze but didn’t move. “You alone?”
“What?” She scowled her confusion, and when he just looked at her, scrubbed a hand over her face and muttered, “I need caffeine. I can’t think this early.”
Stepping back, she blinked a large to-go cup from a local coffee outlet into being. At first, she thought it was an apparition until it was followed by a large male that smelled even better than the hot beverage. For a scary moment, she worried that she might be tempted to drag him inside and gulp him down.
“Earth to Samantha.” He chuckled, waving the coffee beneath her nose, and she realized she’d gone a little glazed with lust. She licked her lips and hastily assured herself that it was for coffee. Definitely for coffee.
“Looking for this?”
“Um—yes?”
When she continued to stand there and drool, he chuckled and caught her hand to wrap her fingers around the large cup. Warmth instantly infused her palm and traveled up to the inside of her elbow before spreading to the rest of her in insidious waves of pleasure.
“Late night?”
There it was again, that edge suggesting he was annoyed with her. Her brow tightened in confusion but the heat of his hand around hers was kind of distracting. She’d forgotten how large his hands were with their wide palms and long strong fingers; and she’d forgotten how they could make her feel.
And that wasn’t good, she decided, when a shudder accompanied the memory. “It’s not the late night,” she blurted out, a little freaked that he just had to show up and she turned into a woman who couldn’t recall her name or that she had a plan. One who’d danced barefoot in a five-star hotel bar, tossed back shooters like a pro and then helped deliver a baby in an elevator. “It’s y-you.”
“Me?”
Oh, great, now she was stuttering and about to admit that after seeing his missed call and listening to his deep voice inviting her on a field trip for the foundation, she’d hardly slept. She’d wished he were inviting her because he wanted to spend time with her and not because he wanted her to meet people connected to the foundation.
When she had slept, it had been to dream some pretty hot stuff that made her blush just recalling it. No way would she tell him all that though. Especially not with the way he was acting.
Then again, he had brought coffee.
“Ignore me,” she muttered. “My brain always struggles to wake up in the middle of the night.” She let him guide the cup to her mouth. Forced to take a testing sip of hot, sweet brew, she felt her system shudder and was pretty sure it was the infusion of caffeine.
“It’s nearly five,” he murmured. His voice, a little rough around the edges, reminded her of the way he sounded when he was aroused. “We should go.”
Fighting memories of San Francisco, Sam tightened her grip on the to-go mug and finally found the presence of mind to step back. It was more of a stumble but she couldn’t think with him so close, not when he looked and smelled so good that she contemplated testing to see if he tasted better than coffee. She licked her lips, afraid that he did.
“Go...?” Her brow creased in confusion. “Oh—right,” she said on a rush of air and gestured out the door. “Let’s go then.”
He didn’t move, just rocked back on his heels, his hot eyes lightening until he was smiling.
“What?” Annoyance tugged at her brows. Yeesh, it was bad enough that she was expected to think before the sun was up and now she had to deal with his annoying masculine amusement.
Annoyance she promptly forgot when he gave her a slow down-up look, his eyes a little heated as they returned to hers. “Not that I’m complaining,” he drawled huskily. “But you might want to dress first.”
“Wha—?” Sam looked down and realized that she was in her skimpy pajamas and a light summer robe that left very little to the imagination. Heat rose into her cheeks because the cool early morning air had tightened her nipples into visible buds. “Oh, boy,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and spinning away to hurry through the arch toward her bedroom, calling, “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home,” over her shoulder.
She took the fastest shower on record and returned twenty minutes later wearing a dress that she’d bought at a little gem of a boutique she’d found close to the hospital. It was part of her new-me makeover, and she had no idea why she’d chosen to wear something so outrageously feminine today of all days.
Adam, leaning against the French doors that opened onto the complex’s communal gardens and swimming pool, turned at the sound of her heels clicking on the tiled floor and stilled. For one horrifying moment, she thought she’d made a mistake in her choice of white flowing midi sundress covered with large scattered red camia. Then he moved and the expression in his eyes had wariness and awareness rolling over her like a tidal wave.
Abruptly self-conscious, she had to force herself not to back away as he neared. Lifting her chin defiantly, she dared him to comment on her appearance because dammit, she had to stop feeling as though she were constantly being judged and found wanting. She had to stop worrying what other people thought and start pleasing herself.
That was the reason for moving across the country, wasn’t it? To move out from the shadow of her grandmother and find herself. Find her own mojo. Be her own person.
Besides, the dress, with its tiny capped sleeves, form-fitting bodice and full skirt had pleased her the instant she’d seen it and even in her half-awake state, she knew she looked good.
Adam paused less than a foot away and lifted a hand to tip her chin up with one long tanned finger. The expression in his eyes was hooded and impossible to read. Heat, most definitely, and maybe a little amusement but she thought she caught the same sharp yearning that lanced through her.
“Good morning, Samantha,” he murmured before dropping a kiss on her startled mouth. The first kiss was featherlight. The next lingered. The third turned into more than a hello. A lot more.
Her reserve melted away and she gave a soft mewl that was a mix of surprise and longing. Before she knew it, she was plastered up against him, her mouth clinging enthusiastically to his. Once her ears were buzzing and her skin tingling, Adam drew back, his eyes dark and slumberous.
Sucking in air, she then let it escape in a shuddery gush before realizing that her hands had fisted his shirt as though she were afraid he’d vanish. It took a concerted effort to unclench her fingers one at a time and smooth the wrinkled fabric with hands that shook.
All she could manage was a hoarse, “Wow.”
“Yeah.” His voice was deep and raspy, his breathing almost as ragged as hers. “That was some hello but maybe we should leave before it turns into something else.”
“Something—?” She blinked his face into focus. “Oh...um—right.” Color high, she stepped back on wobbly legs and nervously slid her tongue along her bottom lip. “That might—um, be for the b-best.” Spinning away to reach for her shoulder bag with hands that trembled, Sam rolled her eyes because even to her own ears she’d sounded disappointed. Disappointed that he hadn’t ravished her like the last time.
Her breath escaped in an audible whoosh. Oh, boy.
Adam chuckled and when she straightened, dropped a friendly kiss on her neck. He slid his palm down her back to the base of her spine and even though she knew it was just to guide her out the door, she shivered because she had a feeling all her good intentions—her careful planning—were about to go up in smoke.
A
nd she couldn’t have cared less.
* * *
Studying him out of the corner of her eye, Sam couldn’t help noticing that he drove as he did everything else, with casual competence and complete mastery. She’d told herself that sneaking into the surgical observation rooms to watch him had simply been professional curiosity when the truth was she hadn’t been able to stay away.
Before she could stop it, a tingle began at the bottom of her spine and worked its way up to the base of her skull because she knew from experience that he did other things just as masterfully. Things she’d told herself her memory had exaggerated. Things that would be easy to forget. That he would be easy to forget.
Fat chance. Especially after that kiss.
She’d told him she needed space and then ignored her own protestations because she’d had an almost overwhelming need to see him. She was rabidly curious about a man who could look at her with hot intensity one minute and then deliver a baby the next; a man who’d said he wasn’t about to ignore what had happened in San Francisco and then promptly did.
Huddling against the door to put as much distance between them as she could, Sam realized that he was dressed pretty much as she remembered him in San Francisco—faded jeans worn almost white in places and a black T-shirt that emphasized his warm coppery skin.
It had something very un-Sam-like stirring beneath her skin. Like “Amanda” was restless to emerge. Like her alter ego was lifting her head, sucking in air as she closed her eyes to concentrate on identifying the deliciously heady scent of him—warm and spicy with a subtle hint of bergamot.
A little freaked by the realization that she was starting to sound crazy even in her own head, she sneaked another peek at him and found him studying her with eyes as warm and spicy as he smelled. Her pulse gave a funny little lurch, and for an instant, her belly went airborne.