by Lucy Ryder
Almost immediately he realized what had woken him. Firstly, his pager and his cellphone were both buzzing angrily in his ear, and secondly…his bed was cool and empty.
The buzzing was an annoying reminder that he needed to get to the hospital, but the latter…hell, he didn’t know what to think. Only that he wasn’t happy that she’d left without waking him—especially with the smell of her still clinging to his pillow and sheets.
He turned and sniffed his shoulder.
And his skin, damn it.
Rolling over, he grabbed his phone and told himself it was a good thing because now he wouldn’t have to deal with any morning-after expectations. He just hadn’t pegged Holly for the hit-and-run type. But what did he really know about her other than she wore class and refinement like a shield, and that she hated being stared at?
She was just another woman, he reminded himself, and he’d learned a long time ago that he wasn’t cut out for more than a good time. It was coded into his genes.
Besides, she’d been the one to say this was a one-time thing and one-time things were his specialty.
He growled, “Yeah?” into the phone and listened to the nurse on the other end then ended the call. Then he rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. His day promised to be a whirlwind of surgeries and meetings, and with the information the nurse had just given him, he might just have to alter his schedule.
He arrived in ICU just as Holly was leaving. Her stride faltered when she saw him but even though she greeted him, she avoided his gaze. If he hadn’t seen the wild tide of color surging beneath her creamy skin he might have thought she’d forgotten his existence the instant she’d walked out his front door.
But it was the sight of her, once again coolly elegant, that made him want to push her up against the wall and mess her up a little. Starting with her hair, which was pulled into a neat French twist.
She hadn’t seemed to mind so much last night, he told himself, recalling with perfect clarity the dark, silky curtain framing her face and brushing against his skin as she’d memorized every inch of his body with her mouth.
Just that fast he was hard—harder than he’d been last night. Harder than he’d ever been, because now he knew that beneath the prim little suits and cool, professional mask was an incredibly enthusiastic woman eager to give as much as she received.
“Holly—” he began.
But she interrupted him with a hasty “Excuse me, Dr. Alexander, but I’m needed in surgery,” leaving him gaping at her straight spine and swaying hips as she disappeared down the passage with an urgent tap, tap, tap of those sexy slingbacks.
What the—?
“Dr. Alexander?”
Gabe turned to see the head of ICU pop her head out the door. “Yeah?”
“We need you.”
Yeah, well. Looks like you’re the only one.
He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, wondering if he’d lost his mind. Here he was, standing staring after a woman who’d made it abundantly clear that he was a one-time deal and…Hell. He shoved a hand through his hair again and blew out a frustrated breath. What the heck did he think he was going to do when…if…he caught up with her? Grab her? Push her up against the wall and kiss her until she moaned and looked at him through dazed, smoky eyes?
Jeez.
“I’m all yours,” he sighed.
And chuckled when the older woman pretended to swoon and muttered a heartfelt “If only,” before disappearing back into ICU.
Yeah, he thought dryly. If only. If only his one-night stand hadn’t managed to rock his world. Three times.
Realizing he was standing around, obsessing about a woman who wasn’t interested in a repeat, Gabe scowled and shoved through the doors, wondering when the hell he’d turned into such a damn girl.
Holly practically ran from ICU as if the paparazzi were in pursuit after an anonymous tip-off. Her skin burned with the mortification of having to face him so soon after…well, so soon. Because, frankly? She’d like to forget last night had ever happened.
Good luck with that.
“Oh, be quiet,” she snarled to the annoying snicker in her head, startling a couple of nurses passing her in the hallway. They gave her strange looks but Holly was accustomed to people staring so she ignored them and headed for the nearest bathroom.
Once she made sure she was alone, she headed for the basins and flipped on the cold water. Breathing like she’d stepped out and found herself at five thousand feet, she splashed her face until her ears stopped ringing and she didn’t feel like her head was about to pop off her shoulders.
She made the mistake of looking into the mirror and nearly gave herself a stroke when she encountered her smoky, heavy-lidded gaze. Ohmigod, I look like I just got lucky.
A low sound emerged from her throat that sounded too much like a whimper for Holly’s peace of mind. Her gaze dropped unerringly to her bruised, swollen lips and she recalled with absolute clarity the way Gabriel kissed. He’d consumed her like she was a rare delicacy he was determined to savor…as if his very life depended on it. A shiver of remembered delight skated up her spine. As if that light suction was an invitation to surrender, her soul along with her body.
Realizing she was hyperventilating, Holly splashed herself again. She didn’t think she could walk out of this bathroom and not have people look at her without them knowing exactly what she’d been up to.
Groaning, she grabbed a wad of paper towels from the dispenser just as the door opened. Hoping it wasn’t anyone she knew, Holly began patting her face dry.
“Holly?”
She froze. Oh, God. It had to be Tess, didn’t it? Tess would see at a glance that she was a total mess.
“Are you okay?”
Sucking in a steadying breath, Holly met her gaze in the mirror, casually patting her skin dry. “Sure,” she croaked. “Why?”
Tess moved closer. “Kimberlyn said she saw you tear out of the house this morning as though your underwear was on fire. Did something happen?”
At the mention of her underwear, Holly gave a strangled gurgle that she tried to cover up by coughing. Had something happened? Where to start? Forget that her underwear had practically caught fire—which was why it was currently gracing Gabriel’s sitting room. Somewhere.
“No.” Not going there.
The next instant Tessa was whipping her around, her eyes concerned as she took in Holly’s expression.
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” she urged. “It is your mother? Father?” Her concern abruptly turned to a gasp when she caught sight of Holly’s neck. “Ohmigod.” Her eyes widened with shock. “You’ve got a … hickey?”
“No! Jeez.” Holly slapped a hand over the offending mark she’d discovered this morning—along with at least three others in embarrassing places—when she’d stripped in the bathroom, intending to wash away every trace of the night.
“It is.” Tessa looked absolutely delighted by the sight. “It so is a hickey.” She grabbed Holly’s hand. “Let me see.”
Holly squeaked and slapped her free hand over the mark. “Damn it, Tess.” She covered her flaming face with her free hand and groaned. “What are we, in high school?”
“Oh, come on.” Tessa spluttered with laughter. “Let the pregnant woman have her way or she’ll get all hormonal on your ass.” Then seeing the embarrassed misery on Holly’s face she froze, her eyes going soft and concerned again.
“Oh, honey, why the long face? It’s supposed to relax you, not make you tense enough to shatter.”
Holly ignored her statement because she felt as though one wrong move and she’d—“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she wailed helplessly as she pulled at her collar and turned to study the mark on her neck. There was another high on the inside of her thigh, one in the crease separating her hip and thigh and one—fine, two—on her breasts.
She blushed.
“Did the bastard say something about your scars?” Tessa demanded. “I hope you punched his—
”
“N-no-o.” Holly spluttered out a strangled laugh. “He didn’t. He really didn’t,” she repeated, recalling exactly what he done to every single one of the blemishes marring her skin. With his lips and tongue.
Tessa’s gaze turned sympathetic. “Oh, God, it was awful. Is that it?”
“Will you just stop?” Holly spluttered out on a mortified laugh. “No, it wasn’t awful, it was…um…fine.” By this time she wanted to climb into the basin and drown herself. Instead, she opened the faucet again, this time burying her burning face in her water-filled cupped hands, hoping Tess would just go away.
So, okay, it had been more than fine. Try spectacular. Amazing. Incredible.
And it was over.
Tessa was still there to hand over a wad of paper towels. Holly muttered her thanks and sent her friend a narrow-eyed sideways glance when her mouth twitched. Tessa quickly lifted a hand to hide her smile.
“Okay, so it was … fine,” her friend said agreeably, but her voice wobbled as though she was fighting laughter. “Then why are you so…um…upset?”
Holly sucked in a breath and—thank God—was saved from replying by a sudden beeping. Whipping out her pager, she glanced at the screen. “I’ve got to go,” she said apologetically, hugely relieved because she had absolutely no idea why she was freaking out and even less idea of how to explain it.
She dropped the wadded paper towels into the trash and headed for the door, yanking it open so fast she nearly bopped herself on the nose.
“I want details, Dr. Buchanan,” Tessa called out, and a horrified Holly sent her a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me glance over her shoulder. She left Tessa standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a secret smile.
Holly managed to avoid Gabriel for a whole week. And it wasn’t easy. First, by being so busy she barely had time to think, and, second, by peeping out the bay window to see if the coast was clear before bolting from the house.
The nights? Well, she hadn’t been so lucky there. Now that she knew where Gabriel’s bedroom was located she realized they shared a wall. A wall that gave her endless nightmares—okay, sleepless nights—and really, really hot dreams that made her blush when she thought about them.
It was like her mind had…well, a mind of its own, emerging at night to torment her with images she was able to control during the day. Fine. Mostly control.
Besides, she’d known him, what…six weeks? And for most of that time she’d gone out of her way to avoid him. For most of that time she’d considered him the Hollywood Hatchet Man.
“I won’t let you fall,” he’d said. But he’d lied. Because Holly was in danger of doing just that and there would be no one to catch her. Fortunately for her, now that she knew the danger she could protect herself by continuing to avoid him like a tax audit.
Good idea.
No problem.
No problem at all.
“How’s that working out?”
Holly’s head shot up. “What?” She blinked at Dr. Syu over the final stages of the tissue expansion procedure they were performing on a snakebite patient.
“You said ‘No problem at all,’ and attacked that scar tissue like it’s a blight on the butt of humanity.”
“Just thinking out loud,” she lied, returning her attention to what her hands were doing. Good idea to focus on what your hands are doing, Holly, instead of thinking about “it”…oh, God…and him.
Holly finally completed the task of reattaching the expanded skin over the wound and was stripping off her surgical gown.
“Great job as usual, everyone,” Lin Syu called as she hurried for the exit. “Holly, go home, get some rest and work out those issues you’re having with yourself. The noises in your head are starting to show.”
An hour later, she was heading out, exhausted and seriously considering sleeping for the next few days—which she had off.
Her mother had called that morning, inviting her home for the weekend, ostensibly to talk about the charity ball, but Holly knew Delia had other motives. Like casually introducing some unattached guy she just happened to invite—along with a bunch of other people—to her father’s birthday dinner.
She planned on showing up for dinner but there was no way—no way in hell—she was getting sucked into her mother’s machinations, no matter how well intentioned.
Scrolling through messages and emails that had backed up over the past few days, Holly strode through the automatic doors and barely escaped colliding with a brick wall. Her gasp turned into a muffled shriek when the wall spun around and she caught a glimpse of surprised green-blue eyes.
He must have anticipated another graceful Holly moment—which was ridiculous considering both her feet were once again firmly planted on the ground—because warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and he yanked her against him, hard enough to knock a startled “Omph” from her.
For long moments she stared at the small white button an inch from the tip of her nose and tried not to notice that she was pressed up against the very chest, belly and hard thighs—oh, boy—that she’d spent the past week trying not to think about.
And failing spectacularly.
After a couple of beats she lifted her gaze up his throat and square jaw, shadowed with a day’s growth of stubble, to his sculpted lips, where she got caught. Her mouth watered. One corner curled with what she knew was amusement at her clumsiness and she had to seriously tear her gaze away or end up drooling like an idiot.
“Good evening, Dr. Buchanan. Fancy bumping into you,” he drawled, his deep, intimate voice sending shards of longing arrowing into places that should have gone back into hibernation. Should have, darn it. But hadn’t.
Lifting her gaze almost reluctantly, her breath caught at the heat burning in the blue-green depths. Heat, irony and…and an odd emotion she would have sworn was loneliness. It flashed for an instant and then was gone and she was left wondering if she’d imagined it.
Lonely? Dr. Celebrity? Phfft! Yeah, right. There were probably a hundred women waiting this very minute for him to turn that sexy, sleepy look their way.
Wrestling with the shocking notion, she managed a strangled “Oh” and stared up at him, wondering why it felt like her chest was being squeezed by a giant fist. Finally realizing she was holding her breath and fisting his pristine dress shirt like she was afraid she would fall at his feet if she let go, Holly unclenched her fingers one by one and slowly exhaled.
She dropped her gaze to where her hands were flattened against his chest and tried unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkled cotton. The muscles beneath her hand hardened and the raw sound he made, low and deep in his chest, had her gaze flying upwards. His eyes turned black and he sucked in a sharp breath as if he was struggling to control some pretty powerful inclinations. Inclinations she was fighting as well.
Realizing she was stroking his chest, she gave a bleat of distress and used her flattened palms to shove away from him. Okay, so she tried to shove away, but Gabriel’s arms tightened and every part of her pressed against him did a happy celebratory dance—especially the parts that could feel his very substantial parts…part.
She made a helpless sound that she wanted to bite back the instant it emerged. He growled out a ragged “Holly” and her head went light and her belly clenched at the rough, raw sound.
It scraped against her jangled nerves, making her shiver. A full-body shiver he couldn’t help but notice. He cleared his throat and slid a fiery visual path across her features. “You’ve been avoiding me.” There was accusation in his tone if not in his eyes—which were soaking her up like a sponge.
Guilt sneaked up on her and she blurted out, “Wha—? No…I—” His permanently arched brow rose up his forehead, the very move chiding her blatant lie. “It’s just that…I…um.” She broke off on a ragged breath and cast around in panic for a believable excuse. But she’d never been particularly good at lying. “It was a one-time thing,” she reminded him weakly. “I just thought it would be easier if we didn�
��t…I mean…Oh, God…help me out here.”
“Have dinner with me.”
The quiet request—that seemed not so much a request as a command—startled her. She cautiously eased herself out of his arms and drew in a lungful of air that smelled only faintly of him. Thank God. Plastered up against him, all she’d been able to smell had been something dark and masculine. Something that had hit her brain like a blast of pheromones and had made her sway dizzily, and when he reached out to steady her, she backed up like a startled deer.
She lifted a hand to her spinning head. “Dinner?”
Looking somewhat baffled by her behavior, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and stared at her, his normally wicked gaze solemn and a little brooding.
After a couple of beats, his mouth twisted into a wry smile that reminded her of that momentary flash of loneliness she sometimes saw.
“Yeah. You know. Dinner. Where two people walk into a restaurant, sit down, order wine and a meal and then…”
He paused for a moment and just looked at her. Before Holly could stop herself, an image of what would happen “then” popped into her head and she actually blushed. And because he wasn’t blind or stupid, his eyes lit with amusement and those darn dimples made their appearance, stealing her bones and her breath.
“And then we talk.”
A frisson of panic skittered up her spine. Oh, God, that was almost worse than what she’d been thinking. Almost but not quite. Because she had no intention of going “there” with him again. She was back to focusing on the fellowship and her future, neither of which had room for hunky surgeons with sexy dimples.
She nervously licked her lips and sent him a wary look. “About what?”
“About why you bailed without at least thanking me.”
She blinked. “Wh-a-at?”
“And letting me thank you.”
“Uh…thank you?”
He inclined his head and studied her through narrowed eyes that gleamed with a host of emotions she couldn’t read. “Yep. And then we’re going to talk about you.”
“We are?”
“We’re going to be working closely together,” he pointed out quietly. “And the tension between us is bound to cause gossip I’m sure you’d rather avoid.”