by Ember Leigh
Dom moves methodically, exactly the way he did in my kitchen that morning. Except then, his boxy frame was naked. God, I wish I had my own face mask to hide my burning cheeks.
“It’s an open-heart surgery,” Nancy whispers, though there’s no reason for her lower her voice.
“Jeez.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. I’m remembering all that tenderness that Dom holds for his patients. The way he’s sacrificed his entire life to tend to strangers. My coldhearted anti-family man excuse is crumbling, and I desperately need as many excuses to avoid him as possible right now. “Just a regular Friday afternoon, right?”
Maybe this area isn’t soundproof after all. Or maybe Dr. Dom can just sense me nearby. His eyes flash up to the glass partition, zeroing in directly on me. My entire body goes hot, and Nancy whoops a moment later. She’s holding me up. I’ve stumbled in her direction.
“You aren’t getting queasy, are you?” she asks.
“No, no. No. I’m fine.” I can barely breathe. Dom straightens, his ice blue eyes still fastened on me. His high cheekbones shine from the top of the facemask, and I can just imagine the scowl on his perfect lips. Dear Lord, my panties are wet. Somebody save me. “I’ve just never seen a surgery like this before.”
Dom twists toward a colleague. He must bark out something because the other man jumps like he’s been scolded and scurries toward the instrument table. Nancy and I watch—or pant, depending on who you’re talking about—for a few more moments before she guides me back through the hallways.
“He’s almost done,” Nancy murmurs reassuringly. “So we should be ready for him.”
Funny of her to say that. I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready for Dr. Dom. Still, I follow her back to the office area, braindead and drifting. Why is he so mind-bogglingly hot? I can’t think of anything but turns of phrase involving Dom, his scalpel, and the specific cracking occurring within my chest cavity. Nancy and I spend the next ten minutes chatting casually—well, it is most likely casual for her. She clearly is accustomed to witnessing a heart-stopping example of a heartbreaker playing with hearts, which is the best doctor pun I can come up with in my feeble, horny state.
When heavy footsteps sound down the hall, I don’t need to turn around to know that he’s near. The bass notes of his voice reach me next, sending a delicious thrill up my spine. I twist and see him talking with a med student, but his eyes are on me. Icy blue and hot, practically burning a hole through me.
They wrap things up, and the student leaves. Dom heads my way, following the tractor beam he’s got me paralyzed in. My whole body is tense, waiting for something. Anything. Anger or indifference or more of his assholishness, maybe, since I drew the line in the sand between us so deeply. Instead, he heads for his office, something lackadaisical in his gait. He pushes open the door and holds it, looking at me expectantly.
I can only watch him, unsure what I’m witnessing. Dom clears his throat just as Nancy sends him an unreadable glance.
“Come in, London,” he says, his sexy rumble almost bringing me to my knees.
I almost can’t believe it. Who is this man? He’s finally acknowledging me in his workspace. Greeting a newly arrived person like a regular human. I’ll have to knock off a few points from his asshole scorecard. I never planned on him racking up points in the sweetheart direction.
My legs are moving toward him, taking me closer to his tall, boxy frame. Every inch of my body is taut with need as I behold him. His broad shoulders strain under the pressed, light blue fabric of his button-up. He has somehow gotten beefier in the two weeks my eyes have avoided looking at him. Maybe he’s pumping extra iron in an attempt to woo his future wife. Which is not me. You are not his future wife, London. DO YOU COMPUTE?
He smooths a palm down the buttons of his shirt, and I remember how it felt to drag my own hand over those washboard abs. I press my index finger to a temple. Everything is whirring and wild. I don’t know if I can keep this façade up much longer.
“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”
His question sends a streak of desire through me, and when I catch the beginning curl of a smile on his lips, I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“Yeah, I’m okay. But I think I’m coming down with something.”
He nods, easing into his chair, his gaze heavy on me like a dare. But I won’t meet his eyes. Because if I do, I’ll crumble deeper into the truth of what’s pulsing between us.
Meeting him on his turf wasn’t as neutral as I imagined. Because what I’m coming down with has a wide variety of symptoms, but only one main cause.
I fell for Dr. Dom.
Chapter 19
LONDON
I check my phone as discretely as possible while Dom takes the fifth phone call that has interrupted our meeting. I’m not miffed. The frequent interruptions help me restock my dwindling supply of cool.
It’s taking my everything to keep things light yet professional. To avoid the breathtakingly large elephant in the room with a sign around its neck reading “Sexual Tension.” I came here to work, and that’s what I’m going to do, dammit.
I’ve cobbled together an additional PR plan for Dr. Dom for the next phase of his career. A five-year community reputation outline that details ways he can deepen his standing in the community once he snags the board position. It looks a lot like what I’ve dabbled in over the past two weeks but drawn out over years to allow for a doctor’s lack of free time. It involves ample galas and charity events with his soon-to-be wife on his arm, whose name I excluded from the work-up, because I still don’t know who he’s leaning toward.
And would you believe I can’t find it in me to ask who’s in the lead?
“Okay. Sorry about that.” Dom sets the receiver down, reaching for a prescription pad. He scribbles a note.
“Are you writing yourself a prescription for Xanax?” I ask.
He smirks. “Sometimes, I wish that were the answer. But no. I ran out of sticky notes.”
“Nancy can help with that, I hear.”
As if on cue, Nancy pokes her head into the office. The door has been ajar since we set foot in here, since I’m taking the inverse of the mother-of-high-schoolers approach.
“Dr. Daly, it’s time for me to leave.”
“He needs sticky notes,” I say, pointing at Dom like there’s some confusion.
“Why don’t you go buy them yourself?” Nancy asks, looking at him. Dom rolls his lips in, looking at me as if to say Happy now?
“Thanks, Nance. Have a good evening. I’ll see you Monday.”
She sends us both a sugary smile. “Don’t you two stay out too late.”
“We’re almost finished here—”
“We’ll be good,” Dom interjects. “Like always.”
I wait until Nancy leaves the office area to twist his way and send him a sharp look. “Did you have to add that?”
“It’s true.” A shit-eating smile has started a slow slide across his face.
“Actually, it’s not. Unless you mean from last Saturday morning onward. Because yes, we will be good according to that criteria.”
“Jeez. Get your mind out of the gutter, London.” He sniffs, leaning back in his chair, his eyes going hooded. “I meant we’d be good, focused colleagues. Which we always have been.”
Heat prickles across my shoulders. “Sure.”
“Where were we before the call?” He clicks the top of his pen, his gaze settling on the outline I brought for him.
“The charity balls.”
“Right.” He frowns. “We might have to edit this.”
“Why?”
“There might be a…conflict of interest, let’s say.”
My heart rate picks up. The ideas presented in my outline are vetted and solid. There’s no way I overlooked a conflict of interest. “Sorry, what? I don’t follow.”
“My soon-to-be wife. Well, one of them, at least.” He hefts with a laugh, but it seems empty. “This first gala you have li
sted here is sponsored by Murray Law Offices, but since Julianne works for their largest competitor, I don’t think that’ll go over very well.”
My stomach thuds to the floor. So it’s Julianne. “Oh. Well, you know, I didn’t realize that she was the top contender.” My mouth is dry. I can feel a big, plastic smile creeping onto my face. The type that tries too hard to show everyone how much of a smile it is. “I can modify this if she’s…you know…The One.”
Dom’s face is expressionless. He blinks once. Then again. “What do you think?”
That you and I fit too well together. “About Julianne?”
“Yeah.”
“I think it’s a perfect match.” I attempt a breezy laugh. “It’s why I matched you.”
Dom nods, still studying me in a way that makes me wary. “You’re a horrible liar, you know that?”
This time, I feign shock. “What?”
“Yeah.” He clicks the pen maniacally. “You think I should be with someone else.”
I tut, willing my cheeks not to flame. “Like who?”
He doesn’t answer, but his gaze darts back and forth across my face. His chair creaks as he leans his elbows against the desk. We’re too close to the forbidden zone. Even though every cell in my body is craving it. He’s not answering my question, just staring at me as if we’re fluent in telepathy. And I think I’m catching hints of what he’s trying to say with that gaze.
“I’ll fix the proposal,” I blurt, looking away, “but I think the rest of it stands, unless you had any other issues?” I need to bring us back to the present, platonic moment.
He rubs his forehead, nodding. Suddenly he looks tired. No, exhausted. Like he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks.
“No issues,” he says. “Thank you.” When his hands drop, part of his mask falls away. Something naked and vulnerable is facing me, and I can’t avert my eyes.
“Long day?” I ask, standing as I repack my briefcase.
“I was on call last night,” Dom explains, leaning back in his chair again. He loosens his tie, and his winding down movements have me itching to curl up in his lap and relax along with him. “I started working today around three a.m.”
I grimace. “Ouch. Did you at least get a cat nap?”
He sends me a heavy grimace, which I take to mean “no.” The exhaustion radiating off him reminds me what a grueling schedule he keeps. Not to mention I witnessed the tail end of him saving someone’s life earlier.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, even though I absolutely should not have offered.
He tilts his head as he rolls up each of his sleeves to mid-forearm. I squeeze my thighs together, forcing myself not to notice the bulging veins that I love so much. Like. I do not love this man or anything about him, I just appreciate him.
“Dinner would help immensely,” he says, looking around his office like he misplaced something. “You should join me.”
I freeze. I knew this was coming. I smelled it a mile away. And dammit, it’s almost six thirty. I was hungry a half hour ago.
Dom stands and walks around to my side of the desk, leaning against the edge. He’s so close that his arm brushes my shoulder. I roll my lips inward, starting a quiet stream of counsel, as if he’s a slowly approaching rabid raccoon as opposed to an overworked, undersexed doctor: Stay cool, London. Just back away slowly. But dinner does sound nice. Maybe he wants sushi.
“Dinner, huh?” The most original response of all humankind.
“Yeah. But don’t worry, I won’t bother lying to you about my intentions this time around.”
Goosebumps flare across my forearms. I snap my gaze up to his and find his icy blues sizzling on me. Waiting for the green light.
“Let me guess. You said you want dinner but really you want breakfast?”
“Cold.”
“You already ate fifteen granola bars behind your desk, but you just want an excuse for someone else to cook.”
He smirks. “Getting warmer.”
“You have another staged lonely Friday night lined up, and you need me to fill in for a date that you cancelled yourself.”
Something in his gaze flashes, and I can tell part of him has unhinged. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s the fact that he was fondling a heart less than three hours ago. Whatever it is, Dom is equal parts raw and passionate.
“How about I just tell you? I want to take you out to dinner, but this is in no way related to our professional lives. I didn’t cancel on anyone. No going over matches. None of that. Not even a little bit.”
His sexy I’m-the-boss-here voice is back, and it has me tingling all over. Fuck, this would be better if he could press me up against that brick wall again. Heat is pouring off him, muddying my senses, making it hard to think straight. All I want to do right now is drape myself over him and listen to his heartbeat.
“Um,” I begin, forgetting why this is a bad idea. It’s just dinner. We’re being clear with our expectations. Is that so wrong?
“But I’m not going to beg,” Dom says, standing suddenly. The loss of his body heat sends me off balance. I grip the arm rests of the chair, stopping myself short of reaching out for him as he walks away. He goes over to the coat rack by the bathroom door and slips that long wool coat on. When he returns, he packs up his briefcase wordlessly.
Every step of the process is fascinating. His jaw flexes as he pops the lock on his briefcase. I watch his knobby knuckles as he sets some folders and his laptop inside it. Every inch of me is taut and expectant. Waiting for more of him.
Who am I kidding? I can’t leave this office without a piece of him. It feels wrong. Sacrilegious, even. But I’ve been quiet for too long. When Dom looks at me, there’s something sad in his gaze.
“I’ll take your silence as your answer, then.”
“Wait.” I hold up a palm, my heart racing. I think I know one final loophole. “Truth or dare.”
He pauses. “Truth.”
“Have you slept with any of your matches yet?”
My heart pounds as I await his response. This, right here—this is the murky underbelly of sleeping with a client. Because if I’m doing my job well, then I have created six brand new enemies. I’m not here to be competing against the women who are interested in this man.
“Would it change things between us if I had?”
It shouldn’t, but it would. “Just answer the question.”
“No. I haven’t slept with any of them.” He lifts a brow. “Only you.”
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me, and my decision is made. I’m not stepping on anybody’s toes—yet. I can give in to this passion one more time. Sure, I might hate myself a little bit more. But this is the last time.
“Truth or dare,” Dom blurts.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Both options are fraught. “Truth.”
“What would you say if I said, ‘Screw dinner—all I want is you, naked, in my apartment, riding my cock until morning’?” He pauses. “And, you know, some takeout.”
A shiver courses through me, winding and delicious. That’s all I’ve wanted since our last time together. And it’s somehow relieving that he’s on the same page. “I’d say, ‘Let’s hurry, because I’m starving.’”
The tension snaps between us, and Dom leads the way out of his office. “For what? My cock or food?”
“Both.”
A sexy smile stretches across his face, and after he shuts the door, his free hand finds mine. He guides me through the halls of the clinic, our fingers laced together.
It shouldn’t feel so right, but it does.
Chapter 20
DOM
Physical exhaustion is a thing of the past as I pull into my apartment building’s underground parking garage. London pulls into the spot next to mine, and I’m practically stumbling over myself in my hurry to get this woman up to the penthouse.
My shoes scuff over the smooth gray cement as I lock my car and close the distance bet
ween us. She’s got a silly, sparkling smile on her face as I swoop her up, pulling her into my side. My heart pounds like we’re teens sneaking out to go on a secret date. I don’t know why I can’t resist this. Resist her. It’s just that everything inside me is telling me to try. To go for it. Even though London is right: I should stick to the matches. We shouldn’t make this unnecessarily complicated by hooking up again.
But hell if I care about the shoulds and should nots right now.
I guide us into the elevator, her hand clasped tightly in mine as I jab the P button. Once the doors slide shut, I cup her heart-shaped face in my hands, claiming her lips. One kiss turns into another and another, and something deep inside me begins to unravel. Like a cord that’s been wound tight in her absence, and finally being in her presence again allows it to unfurl.
London smiles through the kisses, looking as blissed out as I feel. She feels it too. I know she does. That doesn’t make this any less confusing, though.
“Did you decide what food you wanted to order?” she mumbles through a kiss.
“Your pussy.” I press my tongue past her lips, and a gravelly groan escapes me. I back her up against the wall of the elevator. The time apart didn’t help things. It just made this desire worse. More unwieldy. More difficult to contain.
“I need something to eat, too, you know,” she says, sliding her palms over the tops of my shoulders.
“My cock.”
I run my hands down the length of her body, feeling all the dips and curves that I’ve been fantasizing about since our last time together. When the elevator opens at the top floor, I guide her, lip-locked, out into the short hallway. My door is one of two up here. I fumble to find my key fob in my pants pocket. London is practically purring, hooking her chin on the side of my arm to watch my struggle.
“Can’t find your keys?” She pushes two fingertips along my belt, heading for the obvious tenting between my legs.
I grunt, stalling my search as her hand reaches the bulge in my pants. She looks up at me, mischief written across her face as she palms my cock through my pants.