Hollywood Temptation

by Scarlet Wilson

  The door swung open and they both jumped. It was one of the nurses. She seemed totally oblivious to what she’d disturbed. “All done, Dr. Travers? You’re needed in the recovery room.” She gave Selena a quick nod of acknowledgement. “I can sort out Ms. Harris’s discharge.”

  And that was that.

  Whatever had just happened was gone in the blink of an eye.

  He had the good grace to look a little sheepish and nodded to the nurse. “No problem.” He handed over a sheet of paper to her. “Can you make an appointment for stitch removal in five days, please?”

  He turned to face Selena and she caught her breath as he stretched out his hand toward her. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Harris. It’s been…interesting.” The twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.

  She stared at his arm. Strong, firm muscles, tanned skin. Probably perfect for an LA surgeon. He was still staring at her and an enormous lump had appeared in her throat.

  She hesitated for a second, then put her hand in his.

  Yep. No mistaking it. There it was again.

  The second her skin came into contact with his. It was almost as if the cheeky glint in his eye was running up the nerves in her arm. Coming into direct contact with parts of her body that were totally inappropriate.

  She pulled her hand back out of his grasp. She was nuts. This guy was a stranger to her. X-rated thoughts were probably unsuitable.

  He was likely one of those guys who could click his fingers and bring a dozen women running toward him. She didn’t want to be one of those women. She much preferred the tease and chase.

  But she had more serious issues to deal with.

  She took a deep breath, her tongue wetting her dry lips. “Thank you, Dr. Travers. I’ll call you. Uh, if I have any problems, I mean.” And there it was. Something implied. Out before she meant it.

  “You do that.” His voice had lowered, huskier than before, and it made her toes curl. He strode out the door and she turned to face the nurse, wondering if she’d picked up on anything.

  But the nurse seemed unaware. She smiled brightly. “Come along, Ms. Harris, and I’ll show you where you can settle your bill.”

  Oh my. Her bill. It hadn’t even entered into her head.

  Of course she would have to pay.

  Plastic surgeons didn’t do this type of thing for free. No matter how sexy they were. This wasn’t Scotland, where the NHS covered all healthcare costs. Here, everything had a price. Here’s hoping she still had something left on one of her credit cards. Her stomach gave a little flip-flop. Mark wouldn’t have canceled them yet, would he?

  They walked down the corridor, and she took in her opulent surroundings. How much would services in a place like this cost? She realized there were no prices in the glossy brochure. Her heart sank like a stone. That usually wasn’t a good sign.

  There was someone manning the reception. But she didn’t look too happy to be there. No doubt pulled from some other part of the establishment. She took Selena’s name and printed out a statement for her, handing it over without even glancing at it. “How will you be paying today?”

  Selena drew in a sharp breath as her eyes boggled at the amount. “For seven stitches?” She couldn’t help it. It was an automatic response. Sweat was breaking out on her skin. At this rate, she would be sleeping in her car tonight. Or, maybe, she’d need to sell it to settle her bill. “Can you check this? It can’t be right.”

  “Hold on.” The woman at reception grabbed the paper back out of her hands. Ran her eyes over the screen in front of her, obviously checking if there had been some mistake. The phone rang and she wedged it between her shoulder and her ear, taking a few notes and replacing the receiver.

  A stony look came over her face as she handed the bill back. “There’s no mistake. How would you like to pay?”

  Selena took a deep breath and pulled her credit card from her wallet. Better get this over and done with.

  The woman cleared her throat loudly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Harris. Your card has been declined. Do you have some other form of payment?”

  She cringed, her stomach cramping at the humiliation of it all. How embarrassing. She’d never had a card refused in her life. She fumbled in her wallet and pulled out a second credit card, handing it over. “There must be some mistake,” she mumbled.

  What mistake? She stared at the card. Even though she’d been in ultimate spend mode she knew the credit limit on that card still had a few thousand dollars left.

  A horrible, creeping sensation started to take over her body.

  No. She’d maxed it out with the Louboutins.

  A few seconds later the woman met her gaze and pulled her card from the machine, taking out a large pair of scissors from the drawer and cutting the card in half. “I’m sorry, Ms. Harris, but the credit-card company has instructed me to destroy your card.” She dumped the remains in the trash. “How would you like to settle your bill?”

  The phone rang, but she ignored it. The woman had a steely gaze. It was drilling right through her body like a deadly laser in a James Bond film.

  “I…I…I think there must be some mistake. If you’ll let me step outside to make a call.” Selena stuttered, checking through her purse. Mark must have canceled her credit cards. She should have known. Why hadn’t it occurred to her?

  Her fingers wrapped around another credit card—her own. But she’d maxed it out a few months ago. So, unless some magical, good fairy had paid it off for her, she had no credit left to speak of.

  There was another bulge in her purse. A wad of money she’d taken from the ATM this morning. Thank goodness. Otherwise she wouldn’t have a bean to her name. But there was no way it would cover a bill this size. It wouldn’t even make a dent in it.

  The woman stood up. “I’m afraid that’s not a possibility.”

  “But I need to speak to someone. I need to increase the credit limit on my card. It will only take a few minutes.” Even as she said the words, she knew it was hopeless. The credit card company had refused to increase her limit. Probably because she’d missed her last minimum payment. And the one before that. Maybe even the one before that, too.

  “Is there a problem here?” The deep voice startled her. Colt. As if her embarrassment couldn’t get any worse.

  “It appears Ms. Harris has a problem with the charges.” The shame. The shame of it all.

  “Really. Why is that?” His bright blue gaze was fixed on Selena’s.

  “Well, I…I think there’s been a mistake.”

  The humiliation. Mr. More-Gorgeous-Than-Humanly-Possible was discovering the truth of her money problems. Her fingernails pressed into the palms of her clenched hands. Bet he’d never had to worry about where his next latte was coming from. He was probably too busy swimming in his million-dollar pool.

  He turned toward the receptionist who shook her head. “I’ve checked. There’s no mistake.” She glanced at Selena, “Ms. Harris’s credit card was refused.”

  “I take it you have another credit card?”

  The phone rang again and the woman behind the desk heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, answering it, murmuring a reply, and slamming it down. She turned her head as someone shouted at her from another room. “I’ll leave you to deal with this,” she muttered to Colt and stalked off down the corridor.

  He folded his arms. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Please don’t let him call the police. She’d probably been reported for car theft, too.

  There was no way to explain this. More importantly there was no way she could pay.

  If only she was still earning her six-figure salary. She wouldn’t even have blinked at her bill then.

  The phone was incessant. It was pounding. And it was increasing her panic.

  This was a nightmare. She was humiliating herself in front of a man she’d been half flirting with today. She had a stolen car in the parking lot, stuffed with her crumpled—probably ruined—designer clothes. Half her wardrobe was missing. Knowing Mark, he’d p
robably dumped it by now. She’d nowhere to stay tonight and no way of accessing any extra money. And she’d definitely no way of paying these charges. All she had was the few hundred dollars in her wallet. Nowhere near enough to meet the thousand-dollar bill.

  She desperately needed to find a job now, more than ever.

  A proper job, rather than two measly shifts a week in a coffee shop that was all she was able to secure. It was as if the whole world was looking for a job right now.

  The phone was still ringing.

  And there it was. The answer.

  The possible answer to her silent prayers.

  She swept behind the reception desk and picked up the phone. “Seacliffe Cosmetic Surgery, how may I help you?” She paused, in between setences. “Can I take your name and number and I’ll call you back?”

  “It’s Lydia Banks at 476-3441. I’m looking for an appointment with one of your surgeons. I’m looking for one who specializes in rhinoplasty.”

  “Yes, no problem. No problem at all.” She lifted a pencil and scribbled some notes. “Which day of the week suits you best?”

  “Tuesdays.”

  “I’ll call you back in the next hour with an appointment with one of the surgeons.” She could feel Colt’s stare boring into her, but she refused to meet his gaze. Her heart was thumping as she replaced the receiver. She sat down in the large black leather chair.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He was leaning across the desk toward her. Totally intimidating. Totally invading her space. Wow. Was that a few tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose? Up close and personal this guy was totally hot.

  “Finding a way to pay my bill.” The lump in her throat had amplified. She’d probably need surgery to remove it.

  His hip slid onto the desk. “Give me three good reasons why I should let you do this?”

  Her brain scrambled. The closer he got, the more her she wanted to do a whole lot more than answer his phones. But this was it. Desperation took precedence.

  She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. “I have a MBA. And I know it might not look like it, but I specialized in accounts. Once someone familiarizes me with the system, I can do this job with my eyes shut. I’m good with people. It will save you the bother of advertising, interviewing, and trying to recruit a new receptionist. And it’s probably the only way I can pay you back. There—five reasons.” She held her breath.

  The degree part was true. And the last part was true. The bits in the middle? Well, she was winging it and hoping for the best.

  He was silent. Staring at her with those big blue eyes. Weighing his thoughts.

  He glanced at the unpaid bill sitting on the desk and frowned. “Do you need a working visa to be here?”

  She shook her head. “I have dual nationality. I don’t need one.”

  He nodded slowly, staring out the window. His gaze fixed on hers. “You can do this job with your eyes shut?”

  She nodded furiously.

  He stood up. “You can answer the phones, do some clerical work and, more importantly, keep your mouth shut about patients?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’d need to work here for at least one month to pay your bill back. Half your pay would go to you, and half would pay back the bill. Are you prepared to do that?”

  Money. She would actually have some money. She could pay Mark back. There might be nothing left over, but at least she could start to get her debts in order. “Yes. That will be fine.” She stood up and put her hand across the desk. She wanted to get this agreed as quickly as possible. “Do we have a deal?”

  Something flickered behind his eyes. He reached over to shake hands.

  Zing. Just like before.

  Wow. In the space of few hours she’d talked herself into a job with a man that fired off enough electricity to feed the entire city. He was her boss. Never mind the fact he was überhot, totally sexy, and probably earned more in a month than she ever would in a year. So, so, out of her league. But surely the odd fantasy wouldn’t be too out of the question? She could look but not touch. Maybe if she kept repeating that it might actually sink in. She must be out of her mind.

  “We’ve got a deal. Welcome to Seacliffe, Selena.”

  Oh boy.

  Chapter Three

  Colt was losing it.

  He must be. He’d just hired someone he was sure would feature in his erotic dreams that night.

  All because of a flash of a bright pink thong.

  Colt groaned and leaned his head against the glass window. Wait until the partners heard about this. They’d kill him. Especially Helen Ridgeway, the founder of Seacliffe. She’d already been furious about the headlines last month. Then, he’d fired someone on the spot. How would that go down?

  Never mix business with pleasure. Who was it that had said that? The trouble for Colt was that his business partners were like his family. All of them knew his background, all of them knew why he was so personally vested in plastic surgery. Seacliffe clinic wasn’t like most other plastic surgery clinics in LA. Sure, they usually made good profits. But for Colt and his partners it was more about what they could do for others than do for themselves.

  His gaze flickered over Selena once again. Even with a dressing patched on her forehead she was still hot.

  He tried to be rational. This was work. He didn’t mix business with pleasure. Ever.

  They needed a receptionist. But after their last experience of weeding out reporters among the applicants, they needed someone they could trust. Someone who was available at short notice to cover the gaping hole he’d left in their current services. He’d only agreed to take her on long enough for her to pay off what she owed the clinic. Wait until Helen heard about that.

  Selena had an MBA. She’d agreed to answer the phones and keep her mouth shut. Surely that would be good enough?

  It didn’t hurt that she looked gorgeous—in spite of the head wound.

  And it was only for a month. He could behave himself that long. After that? Maybe he and Selena could get to know each other a whole lot better.

  He tried to push the curious voices in his head aside. The ones that told him he never got involved with anyone from work. But this was different. This was only a temporary arrangement.

  He started to relax a little. He’d arranged to meet her at 8:00 a.m. to show her around the clinic area and give her a rundown of her duties. Her official duties. Not the ones he had in his imagination. He didn’t even really know what the reception staff did, but since there was no one else to tell her, he’d have to do the best he could.

  How bad could it be?

  …

  Selena was so hungry her legs were shaking. It had been after seven when she’d left the clinic last night and drove back into Santa Monica. She’d circled a few times, trying to find a motel in her cheap price range. Seventy dollars for one night. She couldn’t afford to do it again.

  It was unlikely that her weekend job at Starbucks would allow her to scrape some money together for somewhere better to stay. As for the tips? That would require a push-up bra, low-cut top, and miniskirt. She shuddered at the thought.

  The room had been tiny but gave her a chance to try and salvage her wardrobe. Repacking her clothes and dubiously opening her vanity case to see what could be rescued. She’d had to buy some dry shampoo for her hair and use the shower carefully to avoid wetting her face.

  It was 7:45 a.m., and she was back in the parking lot at Seacliffe. Sure, she could answer phones and take messages. But in her last job, she’d had two assistants and hadn’t needed to worry about any of the admin stuff. Now, she was the admin. She started to panic.

  Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she pressed her hand on it. She hadn’t even thought about breakfast this morning—she probably couldn’t afford to. She’d be working at this clinic for the next month virtually for free. Once she’d started to pay Mark back the money in her purse wouldn’t stretch that far. Certainly not enough to cover motel rooms for a m
onth, or to put a deposit down on an apartment. At this rate, she’d end up sleeping in her car. And it wasn’t even hers. It was Mark’s brother’s car. Any minute now the police would pull up next to her and take that away, too.

  She sucked in a deep breath and straightened her emerald blouse and knee-length black pencil skirt. She’d spent nearly an hour this morning agonizing over what to wear. What would look professional enough for a job at an exclusive LA clinic?

  She walked along the path to the clinic entrance, resisting the temptation to run and hide.

  It was now or never.

  “Good morning, Ms. Harris.”

  The voice from behind made her jump. She spun on her heels. “Where did you come from? You can’t sneak up on people like that.”

  Colt raised his eyebrows. He was leaning against the wall in one of the corners of the room, probably waiting for her to arrive. “Ready to get started?”

  Her stomach grumbled again and she put her hand back over it. His eyebrows rose. “Maybe you should eat before you start your work in the morning?”

  “Maybe you should stand in the middle of the room to say hello instead of creeping out of dark corners,” she quipped, then cringed at her instant reply. “Sorry.”

  He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “No problem. Dark corners are my specialty. It’s amazing what you see when the world doesn’t know you’re watching.”

  The words sent an instant ripple down her spine. Was Dr. Gorgeous flirting with her? Wow. But then he ruined it. With a cheeky wink.

  She pushed her bag under the reception desk and sat down in the leather chair. She spun around in the chair. It was very comfortable, ergonomically designed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Colt bent over her, his fingers reaching across and flicking the switch on the computer. His scent assaulted her senses. It was gorgeous. Something nautical. Or maybe it was just pheromones. Because the man was dripping with them.

  His head was practically resting on her shoulder. He pulled open a hidden drawer next to her thigh. “I’ll need to give you an individual log-in and password. We’ve changed things recently and this takes a little time.”