Dylan inclined his head but if Duteil hadn’t had the sense to leave then he’d have had no hesitation about suggesting it. Joanna glared at him as soon as the Frenchman was safely out of earshot.
‘What do you think you’re doing? That was so rude! You made it perfectly plain just now that you wanted Jean-Pierre to leave.’
‘Good! At least I achieved something. And if it also saved you from making a fool of yourself then that’s another brownie point I’ve just earned for myself.’
He swung round and strode to the exit, leaving Joanna to follow him if that was what she chose to do. It was, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t furious about what had happened.
‘Making a fool of myself? What the hell do you mean by that?’
‘I should have thought it was obvious,’ he snapped, exiting the conference centre to go back to their hotel. It was the evening rush hour and the street was crowded with people leaving work. Many were making for the pavement cafés which lined the road to enjoy a glass of wine before they returned home. Dylan was sorely tempted to join them only alcohol wouldn’t cure his problems. Joanna couldn’t give a damn about him—that was obvious from the way she had been making sheep’s eyes at Duteil all afternoon. The thought might have brought him to his knees if he hadn’t been so furious.
‘Maybe it was obvious to you but it certainly isn’t obvious to me.’ She grabbed his arm and hung on when he carried on walking, forcing him either to stop or run the risk of pulling her over.
‘What did you mean, Dylan? I want to know,’ she demanded when he halted.
‘That you and Duteil made it perfectly obvious that you had other thoughts on your mind rather than the joys of surgery.’
His smile was deliberately offensive even though he hated himself for behaving this way with her. He’d wanted this weekend to be a time to cherish, something he could look back on when the ache in his heart grew too painful to bear. He’d hoped to store it all up—minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day—yet here he was, standing on the streets of Paris hurling insults at her.
He ran a hand over his face as the sheer enormity of what he was doing hit him squarely in the chest with a massive thump. ‘I’m sorry, Joanna,’ he said hoarsely, wondering if she could tell how wretched he felt. Was it any wonder she had responded to Duteil with all flags flying when he behaved like such an arrogant boor?
‘And so you should be. For your information, Jean-Pierre and I were discussing a new microsurgical technique which his clinic is developing. He offered to demonstrate it to me if we can arrange a time and a date that suits us both.’
‘Great. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,’ he agreed flatly, his self-esteem sinking even lower into the mud. Squelch.
‘I’m sure I shall. I’m sure you will, too, because I suggested to Jean-Pierre that you might like to observe the technique as well.’ She took a quick breath but he heard the strain in her voice when she continued.
‘That’s all we were discussing, Dylan. Work. That’s why I came to this conference and why I thought you came, too. Maybe I was wrong about that, as I might have been wrong about a lot of other things of late, it seems.’
‘What sort of other things?’ he asked numbly, struggling to keep his head above the tide of relief that was swirling around him. Did Joanna mean that she wasn’t interested in Duteil, or at least not that way?
The waves washed right over his head at that point so that he missed her reply. ‘I’m sorry. What did you say?’
‘I asked if you had a girlfriend,’ she repeated, with more than a touch of asperity in her voice this time.
‘A girlfriend?’
‘Yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Why do men have to make life so complicated by repeating everything one says?’
‘Probably because they’re afraid they might not have heard you correctly the first time and don’t want to jump in feet first and make a complete mess of things.’
‘Well, for your information, you did hear me correctly. So if you’d care to answer my question some time in the not-too-distant future maybe we can get on with the rest of the evening!’
‘Far be it from me to spoil our evening, Joanna,’ he said silkily, loving the way she immediately blushed and lowered her eyes. He took a steadying breath, not wanting to do what he’d been so keen to avoid—jump in feet first and trample down this tiny bud of hope that had started sprouting.
It was his turn now to roll his eyes when he realised how fanciful he was getting. Time to get those feet firmly back on the ground, Archer, he told himself sternly.
He turned to face her, wanting to see her expression when he gave her the answer she had demanded. Maybe it was silly to hope it would mean something really mean something—to her, but what did he have to lose?
‘No. I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t even asked anyone out since that day we had breakfast together.’ He shrugged. ‘There was no point.’
‘No point?’
The breathy note in her voice was like music to his ears and balm to his soul and all sorts of other poetic things to various parts of his anatomy he wasn’t going to think about right then. He took her hands—both of them—and kissed them with very little finesse but a whole ton of emotion.
‘There’s no point asking another woman out when I’m only interested in you.’
Joanna felt the relief rush to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. It was the strangest and yet the most wonderful feeling she had ever known. She gripped Dylan’s hands, wanting him to know how much it meant to her that he hadn’t found someone else. Maybe it was silly to feel like this and maybe she would regret it later, but she was only human. Discovering there wasn’t another woman in his life or his affections meant the world to her.
‘I’m glad. I thought that you must have found someone else,’ she said honestly, because it was way too difficult to lie just to keep face.
‘No. I haven’t even looked for anyone because I’m not interested.’ He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles and her knees threatened to buckle when she felt desire pouring through her in a hot, melting tide.
‘I think we both need to sit down for a moment, don’t you?’ The rough note in his voice told her that he was feeling just as shaky as she was so she didn’t protest when he led her to one of the pavement cafés. He pulled out a chair for her then sat down beside her, and she smiled when she heard him let out a huge sigh.
‘What was that for?’
‘Relief.’ He looked at her and grinned sheepishly. ‘For a horrible moment back there I honestly and truly thought my legs were going to give way!’
‘Me, too,’ she admitted, loving the way his green eyes seemed to be lit by an inner glow as he looked at her. When he leant over and kissed her gently on the mouth she didn’t draw back, couldn’t have done because she needed this kiss to survive, every bit as much as she needed food or oxygen.
A tremor shot through her because she’d never admitted to herself until that moment just how important Dylan was to her. She needed to see him and speak to him just so she could function properly, and the thought of how dependent she had become on him scared her. It was a relief when the waiter arrived to take their order because it gave her a breathing space. Dylan ordered wine for them both and she couldn’t even be bothered to protest because he hadn’t consulted her first. It just seemed to highlight the effect he had on her. She had never allowed a man to make decisions for her, mainly because she’d had such a hard struggle to prove herself throughout her career, yet it didn’t seem to matter if Dylan took control. In a funny kind of a way that scared her even more because she should be afraid of losing her independence.
‘Don’t!’
She looked up when he touched her hand and there was no way that she could hide her fears when she saw the concern in his eyes. ‘I’m scared, Dylan. I don’t know what I’m getting into or even if it’s what I want.’
‘I know. And I wish to heaven that I knew how to make you understand tha
t everything will work out but I don’t.’ He squeezed her fingers and she could tell that he was desperate to convince her. ‘I know you have doubts, Joanna. I think you’re wrong to put so much emphasis on the negative points of us having a relationship but that’s just my feelings on the matter. I can’t feel the way you do even though I desperately want to. I can only try to understand and reassure you, and I’m terrified that it won’t be enough.’
Her eyes filled with tears at his kindness and compassion. ‘And I can’t promise you that your reassurances will work either, so if you want to call a halt now I’ll understand.’
‘No. Even if this lasts just as long as the weekend does I don’t want to stop.’
His tone was fierce all of a sudden and she smiled. ‘It’s difficult to argue with that.’
‘Good! That’s what I was hoping.’ His mouth curled up at the corners as he smiled into her eyes. ‘Obviously, it pays to play the macho male when the situation warrants it.’
‘So long as you don’t hit me over the head with a club and then drag me back to your cave,’ she retorted.
‘No way. Cross my heart, etcetera. My plan is a little more subtle than that.’
‘Oh, so you have a plan, do you? Did you have this all worked out before we set off this morning?’
‘No. I’m just very adaptable and think on my feet,’ he assured her, chuckling.
The waiter arrived with their wine and she waited until he’d gone before answering. ‘All right. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and accept that you didn’t have this all planned out. So, that being the case, what have you in mind?’
‘First of all we’ll go back to our hotel and change for dinner. Even though I could think of a dozen better ways to spend our first evening in Paris, duty calls. With a bit of luck, dinner should be over by ten so the rest of the night will be ours to do with as we choose.’
‘Sounds promising,’ she murmured, watching him over the rim of the glass as she took a sip of wine.
‘Oh, I think I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. After all, it will be the first chance we have to spend any real, quality time together away from work.’ His tone was husky as he picked up his glass and chinked it against hers. ‘Here’s to us and Paris…the city of lovers.’
‘To us and Paris,’ she repeated, knowing exactly what he’d meant even though he hadn’t actually come out and said the words.
Her breath caught because by tomorrow they would be lovers, she and Dylan. Even though she knew the problems still hadn’t been resolved, she didn’t have any doubts that it was what she wanted. She would worry about the future after they returned from Paris but for now this weekend would be theirs.
Dylan could barely wait for dinner to end. He and Joanna had been seated next to each other and every time he moved he could feel his arm brushing hers or their thighs touching. It was like being put through the torments of the damned, but all he could do was to grit his teeth and think about what was to come.
He gulped a mouthful of coffee and just managed to stop himself choking when the hot liquid shot down his throat. Thinking about what might happen later that evening did very little for his equilibrium. He turned when the woman on his left asked him a question and for the rest of the meal concentrated on behaving like a guest at an Emily Post dinner party would have done. Nobody could have faulted his manners or his attention level although maybe he went a bit too far because it was obvious the middle-aged brunette had got the entirely wrong idea. It was a relief for a number of reasons when dinner came to an end and he could make his escape.
He stood up, politely refusing the brunette’s invitation to join her in the bar for a brandy with what he hoped was a suitable amount of regret. Joanna was speaking to the man who’d been seated on her right and Dylan waited while they finished their conversation. He took her arm as soon as the other man had departed and bustled her towards the door.
‘What’s the rush?’ she asked, coquettishly batting her eyelashes at him.
‘If I don’t get you somewhere quiet I’m very much afraid that we might cause a scene,’ he growled, unable even to pretend to play games.
‘Oh!’
A tide of colour ran up her cheeks and he chuckled as he backed her into a handy alcove and kissed her quickly on the lips. ‘Oh, indeed.’
They carried on across the foyer, pausing only long enough to collect their coats. Several people wished them goodnight but, thankfully, nobody tried to stop them so that within minutes they found themselves out in the street. It was a beautiful night, a tiny breeze ruffling the tops of the trees on the Champs Élysées, the ink-black sky sprinkled with stars. By tacit consent they headed towards the river and Dylan took Joanna’s hand as they walked down the steps to the embankment and strolled along beside the water until they came to the Pont Neuf.
Dylan stopped in the shadows beneath the beautiful old bridge and took Joanna into his arms, overwhelmed with relief that he was finally able to hold her. Sitting next to her at dinner had simply increased his hunger for her, but he didn’t want to rush her…
She wound her arms around his neck, pulled his head down so she could fit her mouth to his and all thoughts of restraint fled in an instant. If he was hungry for the feel and taste of her then Joanna was just as hungry for him.
Their mouths brushed, clung then parted, their breath coming in laboured spurts as passion rose and filled them with an elemental need for satisfaction. Dylan framed her face between his hands, feeling every scrap of his being aching as he looked at her. She was so beautiful as she stood there in the shadow of the bridge, her face softly lit by starlight. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted and he knew that he would remember this moment when he was old and grey and other memories had faded into the mists of time. He loved her so much and he longed to tell her that, but he knew it would be overstepping the last boundary and that she wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. He had to show her with deeds, not words, how he felt and pray that she would let herself respond with her heart, not her head.
He kissed her again, softly and with a tenderness that stemmed from love, then took hold of her hand again. They started walking back the way they’d come and once again they didn’t speak. The hotel foyer was crowded when they passed through it—a lot of the delegates from the conference had booked rooms there because it was so convenient. However, they didn’t stop to speak to anyone as they went straight to the lift.
They got out at their floor and walked along the corridor together, stopping when they reached their rooms. Dylan turned to her and smiled, knowing that he was about to embark on something so momentous that his life would be forever changed afterwards.
‘My room or yours?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said huskily, looking up at him with a wealth of emotion in her eyes.
‘You’re right. It doesn’t.’
He bent and kissed her, kept on kissing her as he somehow managed to unlock the door and get them both inside his room. Bending, he lifted her into his arms and carried her across to the bed, placing her gently on the quilted satin cover before kneeling beside her so he could kiss her cheeks, her chin, the tip of her elegant nose, the arch of her silky brows. Her skin was warm and smooth, her long lashes tickling his mouth as he dropped kisses on her eyelids, making him smile for joy. He loved every bit of her that he’d seen so far and it could only get better!
Joanna didn’t stop him as he unbuttoned the jacket of her black silk suit. She was wearing just a black lace bra beneath it and he had to pause for a second because the sight of her full breasts encased by the delicate lace was too wonderful not to savour.
He slid the jacket off her shoulders and hung it carefully over the back of a chair then unzipped her skirt and slid it off—inch by delicious inch—revealing her hips, her gently rounded stomach, her slender thighs…
His breath caught and he couldn’t breathe in or out when he discovered that she was wearing stockings and suspenders. The garter belt match
ed her black lace panties and it seemed such a sexy garment for her to wear that he was momentarily stunned. It was only when she shifted restlessly that he managed to stir himself into action again, although maybe he would need to calm himself down a little before he went any further, he decided when he felt his body respond with enthusiastic fervour to the sight of her.
He stood up and draped her skirt over the chair, hoping to give himself time to gather his composure, but the moment he turned and saw her lying there on the bed he went weak at the knees and rigid in other places.
He sat down beside her and smoothed back her hair with hands that trembled. He’d made love to his fair share of women in the past but this was so different that it didn’t even bear comparison. What if he wasn’t up to the job? What if he disappointed her? What if…?
She slid her hands up his chest and tugged at the ends of his bowtie so that it unravelled, and every single rational thought fled. The tiny onyx shirt-studs which had caused him so much grief when he’d been getting ready that night popped out of their buttonholes as if by magic under her dextrous fingers. Dylan gritted his teeth when he felt her hands slide inside the open shirt-front and start exploring. Joanna had surgeon’s hands—strong palms and supple fingers—and she used them to full advantage as she smoothed and stroked and caressed him until he was in such a state he could barely remember his own name.
He ripped the shirt off his back and tossed it into the corner before he lay down beside her. ‘Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, you wicked woman?’
‘Yes.’ The laughter in her eyes was like a wonderful gift, easing away any last doubts he’d had about what they were doing and the effects it could have on her later. Joanna hadn’t been coerced into letting this happen—she was a willing participant. More than willing, he amended when he felt her hand searching for the zip on his trousers.
The Pregnant Surgeon Page 10