Falling at the Surgeon's Feet

by Lucy Ryder

  It was such a guy thing to say that she hid a smile and tried not to imagine his big body sprawled on his huge leather sofa, watching a ball game.

  His body radiated clean masculine heat and where his hand touched the small of her back, as he ushered her toward the back of the house, an insidious heat spread across her flesh. She wanted to sink back into him and maybe rub against all that heat and hardness. Just as she’d done earlier.

  Get a grip, woman, she ordered herself silently. Since when did you have urges to lean on a guy for support?

  “I’ll…um…call my mother in the morning.” Her voice emerged low and slightly husky and she ignored the little smile teasing the corner of his mouth that she was tempted to bite right off.

  She rolled her eyes. Clearly she needed food fast or she’d start nibbling on the closest patch of masculine skin.

  Looking around his sparkling, modern kitchen, Holly discovered a mild case of kitchen envy but then he started pulling things out of his refrigerator with quick efficiency and she discovered another kind of envy too. The kind where she could wield a corkscrew or maybe a spatula with the same skill she handled a scalpel.

  Gabriel Alexander—the jerk—didn’t seem to suffer from the same challenges. He drew a bottle of white wine out of the cooler and efficiently uncorked it while he directed her to an overhead cabinet for wine glasses.

  “I usually prefer beer,” he said. “But good food demands a good wine.”

  She handed him the glasses. “You’re a foodie?”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners at her disgruntled tone. “You sound surprised.”

  She sighed, propped her hip against the nearest cabinet and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Not so much surprised as envious,” she admitted. “I’m a kitchen klutz.” His lips twitched and she narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits because she knew what he was thinking. He was thinking the kitchen wasn’t the only place she suffered from klutziness.

  He clearly valued his life because he just chuckled and handed her a glass of chilled white wine. “You’re a cute klutz, though.” Then he stunned her speechless by tracing a line of fire across her lips with his finger before turning away to reach for a bowl and a carton of eggs.

  It took her a few moments—okay, minutes—to recover her breath and gulp down a mouthful of crisp Riesling. It jolted her back to reality before warming up her belly and clearing her head.

  She offered to chop something but he shook his head and said he was off duty. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended since he’d probably meant that he’d seen enough blood for one day. Smartass.

  So Holly sipped her wine and watched him work, which, God knew, wasn’t a hardship. It was also kind of hot to see a man so at home in a kitchen.

  When she was stressed she liked to bake but her efforts were mostly inedible, which sucked because she loved chocolate-fudge brownies and chocolate-chip cookies. Granted, she made an excellent salad but she was ashamed to say she often just nuked one of the casseroles her mother kept stocked in the freezer for her. It was easier than cleaning up after her disasters.

  She licked a drop of wine off the back of her hand, impressed by his one-handed method of cracking eggs into a bowl without adding a ton of shells. Show-off. He then went on to chop and sprinkle with quick efficiency until delicious smells filled the kitchen and her stomach set up an almost continuous growl.

  Over another glass of wine and light, fluffy harvest omelets that he’d teamed with herbed bruschetta, Gabriel entertained her with stories of his youthful exploits. Holly found herself laughing more than she had in years and soon a warm glow radiated out from the center of her chest. She was flushed and light-headed—like she’d drunk too much champagne or maybe sucked on a little too much helium—and she could scarcely believe that she was sitting in a kitchen with the Hollywood Hatchet Man, actually enjoying herself.

  Before she could remind herself that he’d seen countless beautiful and famous women—including her sister—naked or that he’d worked in an industry that was mostly to blame for the low self-esteem of ordinary women like herself, Holly swirled the wine in her glass and looked up, only to become snared by the sleepy heat in his eyes. Yikes.

  “So what about you?” he asked.

  Her laughter died and a palpable tension replaced the friendly mood—a tension that had absolutely nothing to do with her opinions of his former career. She blinked.

  It didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. It was there in the glowing heat of his gaze that set her pulse skittering even as a heavy ache settled between her thighs.

  It might have been the wine, knocked back on an empty stomach, but her tongue felt suddenly too thick to form words. And like the night she’d slugged back mojitos, her lips went numb.

  For long moments she stared into his eyes, hypnotized, until the thickening tension made it difficult to breathe. She blinked. “I…uh…”

  Her voice came to her through a long tunnel and the breathless huskiness of it might have shocked her if she’d been thinking clearly…okay, thinking, period. But for the same reason her mouth couldn’t form words, her brain couldn’t form thoughts.

  In slow motion she licked her dry lips and his gaze dropped to catch the path of her tongue. His eyes darkened and he said her name. “Holly.” Just her name, but his voice, rough and deep as sin, scraped her already ragged nerves and she had to gulp in air or pass out.

  Her skin gave a warning prickle an instant before her brain melted along with the muscles in her thighs.

  “Hmm?” She was in big trouble and for some reason she couldn’t seem to drum up the energy to care.

  His eyes dipped to half-mast and she could practically feel the enormous control he was exercising over himself. It was there in the tight lines of his face and the sudden stillness of his body, which practically vibrated with tension.

  And there was absolutely no mistaking the sensuality in his gaze.

  “If you’re going to leave,” he rasped in a voice she scarcely recognized, “I suggest you do it now.”

  Feeling dazed and strangely lethargic, Holly sucked in a shuddery breath. “Um…now?” Frankly, she didn’t know how he expected her to move. She was frozen to the spot by the laser-bright gaze, the gold flecks swirling in the blue-green depths having stolen her ability to move.

  “I’m giving you ten seconds.” The warning came as a low deep growl that sent a dark excitement skittering through her blood until her body was practically humming with anticipation.

  His gaze darkened—“Nine”—and her pulse gave an excited little blip. Instead of scrambling to her feet and escaping, she continued staring into his eyes, wondering at this odd dark need to ride the edge of danger.

  A voice in her head ordered her to move, but her body refused to obey. “And then what?”

  He leaned forward until there was barely an inch separating his lips from hers. Fascinated, she stared into the swirling depths of his eyes and was stunned by the intensity burning in their centers. He appeared seconds away from pouncing and a thrill of alarm zinged across her skin.

  Dropping her gaze, she found his finely sculpted mouth almost touching hers. Oh, God. He was so close she could already feel the searing imprint of his mouth. She eagerly awaited a kiss she knew was just a heartbeat away.

  And when he didn’t so much as lean in her direction she was the one to make the move that closed the gap between their mouths. Through the roaring in her head she thought she heard him say, “And then I’m going to drag you over the counter and there’ll be no escaping until—”

  She froze. “Until?”

  She felt him smile against her lips and the sensation of it sent a firestorm of sparks exploding in her brain like fireworks. “Until your eyes roll back in your head and…” Her breath escaped in a shuddery whoosh. “And you forget your plan.”

  She wondered why he was still talking when all she wanted was for him to grab her and make her eyes roll back in her head. Oh, w
ait. They’d already rolled back in her head to check out the state of her brain and “My plan? What plan?” popped out of her mouth in a breathless rush. It took a few seconds for her words to finally register. And when they did, her head cleared.

  “Oh.” She abruptly shoved back from the counter, nearly toppling the stool in her haste. For a breathless moment she stood, swaying, and stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. “I…um, I have to go.”

  Gabriel made a growling sound deep in his chest that had the hair on her arms lifting like she’d got too close to an electrostatic generator. Spooked by the sensations and the thoughts racing through her head, Holly backed away, turned on her heel and walked blindly into the wall.

  “Careful,” he murmured, and even without looking she knew he was fighting a smile. She rolled her eyes and altered her course, heading down the passage to the front of the house, suddenly eager to escape. Before she did something she regretted.

  Like turn and grab him. Like lose herself in his hungry caresses or forget that she had a plan that had no room for hot, sexy surgeons.

  “I have to go,” she repeated, feeling a little dazed and more than a little freaked out. Her ears buzzed and her knees shook so badly it was a miracle they didn’t buckle and dump her on her ass.

  “I’ll see you home.” His voice came from right behind her and a wide-eyed look over her shoulder revealed him fighting amusement. Oh, God, how embarrassing. She increased her pace until the urgent tap-tap of her heels on the wooden floorboards nearly drowned out her panicked thoughts.

  “There’s no need,” she babbled, as she finally reached the door and tried to tug it open, only to find it locked. “Besides, I’m right next…door and—” emerged on a breathless squeak when she swung around to find him only inches away.

  Gabriel regarded her silently for an endless moment before he scooped up her shoulder bag and briefcase. She held out a shaking hand. “I’ll see you home,” he repeated in a gravelly voice, and reached around her to open the door.

  She might have escaped unscathed if she hadn’t made the mistake of lifting her gaze off his white T-shirt-covered chest, up past his tanned throat, the hard square jaw and sculpted mouth to his gaze.

  She froze.

  His pupils were huge and very black, his eyes hot and steamy in his tanned face. More blue than green, they blazed with an emotion that was unmistakable even to a social klutz like her.

  For long charged moments their gazes locked until with a savage growl Gabriel kicked the door closed and hauled Holly up against him. And before she could squeak out a protest at the rough treatment, he’d backed her against the door and closed his mouth over hers in a kiss so hot it singed her skin and set her hair on fire.

  Ohmigod.

  Incredible heat poured off him in waves that engulfed her, threatening to drag her under and drown her in a flood of heat and urgency. Help, she thought an instant before his tongue breached the barrier of her lips, surging into her mouth and stealing her breath. I’m in trouble.

  His tongue slid against hers and the next instant the kiss turned greedy, his mouth eating hungrily at hers. She moaned and desperation rose along with the heat in his kisses. Any thought of escaping faded.

  In fact, if this was trouble she welcomed it, along with the slick slide of his tongue against hers and the warm press of his big hard body.

  Fever rose in her blood and her skin prickled with an almost embarrassing need to be touched, a need for his big warm hands to slide over her naked flesh.

  He broke off the kiss to feather his lips across her jaw to the delicate skin beneath her ear, leaving Holly fighting for breath and the urge to beg him to hurry. Heat exploded along her nerve endings and she shuddered, her breasts tightening until they ached.

  She flattened her palms against his belly; the bunching muscles making her hands itch with the need to explore every hard inch of him, including the long thick evidence of his arousal against her belly.

  Unable to resist arching closer, Holly angled her head and “Gabriel…I…um…” emerged on a low moan. She wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say, only that a voice, somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, was urging her to get the hell away before it was too late. “I have to… I need to… I think I should…”

  “Don’t,” he murmured against her throat, and she murmured in dazed agreement. “Don’t think.” Nipping at the slender column, he drew her skin into his mouth, soothing the small hurt when she uttered a tiny shocked gasp. “Feel, Holly. Just…feel.”

  Okay, so that was doable. Besides, thinking took too much effort, especially with his mouth, hot and wet as it dragged across her skin, making secret hidden flesh respond with tiny spasmodic clenches.

  She stiffened. Oh, God. He’d yanked her right to the edge so fast she was fighting to keep from exploding right out of her skin.

  Then he was taking her mouth again in a hungry kiss, thrusting a hard thigh between hers and pressing his erection into the notch at the top of her thighs. His big hands slid to her hips, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh as he ground against her, groaning like he was in pain. And before she could give voice to the fiery need clawing at her belly, his muscles bunched and she found herself lifted off her feet.

  Instinctively wrapping her legs around his hips, Holly clutched at his shoulders. Muscles shifted beneath her hands, a solid anchor in a world suddenly whirling with chaotic hunger, ragged breathing and wild exhilaration.

  Her hair, a dark silky nimbus, floated around their heads. Somehow he’d unraveled her hair with the same ease that he’d unraveled her defenses.

  “Hold on,” he said, pushing away from the door to stand swaying for a couple of beats, breath sawing from his heaving lungs like he’d crossed the Brooklyn Bridge at a dead run.

  “Wha-at?” Holly’s lashes fluttered up and she stared at him uncomprehendingly. Without replying, he turned toward the sitting room, cursing when his foot caught on something and he staggered. She squeaked and tightened her grip and his muttered curse of “Damn boxes” became a soothing growl. “Don’t worry,” he murmured against her mouth between kisses. “I won’t let you fall.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HOLLY HAD A brief thought that it was too late for that. Way too late to prevent her heart from getting bruised by a man as handsome and flawless as his celestial namesake.

  Then a couple feet beyond the door his knees connected with something solid and the next instant she found herself literally falling. She sucked in a startled breath, tightened her grip, and before she could squeak out a protest she was on her back with Gabe’s big body sprawled over the top of hers.

  “Oomph.”

  “Sorry,” he breathed beside her ear. “You’re heavier than I expected.”

  “Or maybe,” she retorted, unable to prevent the pleased grin from forming when she turned her head to give his earlobe a punishing nip and a groan accompanied the shudder moving through him, “you’re not as manly as you think.”

  His response was an explosive snort that questioned her sanity.

  “Oh, yeah?” he breathed, his teeth flashing white in the near darkness as he levered himself onto his elbows. The move pressed his hips closer, setting off an explosion of starbursts behind her eyes. “I’ll show you manly.”

  She groaned, as much at the typically macho statement as the feel of him, long and thick and incredibly hard as he pressed tightly against her crotch. Suspended in sensation and every nerve ending firing simultaneously, it was more than she could handle. More than she could ever remember feeling. And just as a glimmer of panic threatened to break free of the haze of need and greed clouding her brain, Gabriel smoothed a hand from her bottom down the long length of her femur to her knee and back again.

  “God, you have no idea how much I want you,” he murmured, leaning forward to run his tongue from the corner of her mouth to the sweet spot beneath her ear.

  But Holly did, and in response her core melted and clenched in anticipation.

&n
bsp; He rose up onto his knees with a low, thrilling growl and reached for the back of his T-shirt, yanking it over his head in one smooth move that left Holly speechless. And not just from the speed of his actions.

  His torso was a marvel of masculine perfection that she couldn’t help but reach out and touch. She wanted to see him. Wanted to explore his physical perfection with her hands and her mouth.

  Unable to stop herself, she slid her hands over his skin, reveling in the tanned skin, taut and smooth across his hard, ridged flesh. His skin was slightly damp beneath her questing fingers as muscles bunched and rippled at her touch.

  Light spilled from the foyer, surrounding his darkened form like a full-body halo, and the image of a golden angel, fallen to earth to tempt mortal women to sin, returned. And, darn it, she was more than ready to become one of the fallen right alongside.

  He was a beautiful man and for a blinding moment of panic she wondered what he was doing with her—what he would say when he saw the rest of her scars, especially the ugly one marring the length of her thigh. But then he fumbled, his hands shaking in his haste to undress, and she realized that she’d made him tremble. Her touch had made him shake like a boy.

  It was a little overwhelming.

  Then he was unbuttoning his fly. Her eyes widened along with every inch that became exposed and suddenly overwhelming was nothing compared to the sight of him. “Wha-what are you doing?”

  He looked up, his teeth gleaming in the near darkness. He took in her wide-eyed expression and rasped out an incredulous laugh. “Well, Doc,” he managed roughly. “This is what’s called getting naked. It’s what happens before a man pulls out—”

  Holly squeaked and slapped her hands over her ears in a move that belied her professional status. Gabriel’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline and he leaned forward to pull one of her hands free. “I was going to say protection, Dr. Buchanan,” he finished dryly.