Impossible to Resist

by Janice Maynard

  Jacob didn’t bat an eye at her not-so-subtle move. Was she making any impact on him at all? Or was he really immune to her femininity?

  His even tone gave nothing away. “I’m not the only one, but I’m working to develop what one day may become a cancer vaccine.”

  “Well, crap.” She pulled her knees to her chest and glared at him. Whether he meant to or not, he had shut her down.

  “That’s a problem for you?”

  “How am I supposed to lure you away when my selfishness could cost someone their life?”

  “It’s rarely that time sensitive, Ariel. We’re talking research that takes months, years. And to get back to your original concern, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy. I make my own decisions, and I can entertain myself.”

  “Do you work out?”

  Again the flummoxed look. “Following your conversational gambits is like chasing a rabbit in the woods.”

  “Sorry. My mind jumps. Can you answer the question?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I swim laps at Gareth’s pool. I walk up and down the mountain when the mood hits me. I cut firewood for the winter. Have I passed?”

  “Passed?”

  “The test. I got the impression that you were looking for some specific answers.”

  If nothing else, she had annoyed him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m merely trying to establish what kind of man you are.”

  “There are varieties?”

  “Of course there are. I’ve nailed you as the selfless, driven, save-the-world type.”

  He stood up. And from her vantage point, he looked really big. “Come here, Ariel.”

  She obeyed, more out of curiosity than anything else. When they were standing toe to toe, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears. Shivering, she lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. “What do you want?”

  “I’m wondering how good an actress you are. If you want to make people believe that you and I are a couple, we’ll have to kiss at least once or twice, right?”

  Her throat dried as she tried to swallow a lump the size of Texas. “Does that mean you’re considering my proposal?”

  His gray eyes warmed to charcoal embers. “Answer my question first. Would we have to occasionally kiss?”

  She nodded slowly, feeling completely out of her depth. Rarely did a man manage to throw her off kilter. But Jacob Wolff was giving it his best shot. “Yeeessss,” she drawled. “I’d say that would be necessary and appropriate.”

  His quick, self-deprecating smile warmed her to her toes. “Well then, let’s give it a shot.”

  Before she could agree or protest, or better yet shoot back with a smart-ass response, Jacob’s mouth moved across hers.

  Ariel had kissed lots of men. Some tasted like cigarettes or salami. A few were pleasant but unremarkable. The guys who had something to prove usually bent her neck backward at an awkward angle. And occasionally there were one or two who were genuinely good at locking lips.

  Jacob’s kiss defied description, mostly because she didn’t have the mental sharpness to analyze it. Her synapses were firing like random paintball gun explosions, making her knees rubbery and her head muzzy. Jacob’s arms encircled her firmly, bringing her close to his chest. He was determined and possessive, but not forceful. The caress of his lips on hers was toe-curlingly sensual, but with barely a hint of tongue.

  For a first kiss, it was damned near perfect.

  They broke apart in unison. Ariel stumbled backward, reaching behind her for a seat. Unfortunately, reaching for her habitual cheeky repartee was not so simple. She cleared her throat. “Not bad, Doc. Especially for a first take.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. Was he breathing hard? She’d like to think so.

  When he remained silent, she squirmed. “What’s going on in that computer brain of yours?”

  “I’ll do it,” he said quietly.

  “Because of the kiss?”

  He shook his head. “No. Because as much as I hate to admit it, you have me pegged. I can’t let you go off on your own knowing you could fall ill at any moment.”

  “You don’t look too happy about it. Was kissing me so awful?”

  “Let’s get something straight, Ms. Ariel Dane. I’ll kiss you when the occasion demands it. And God help me, I’ll enjoy it. But that’s as far as it goes. You’re my patient.”

  “Who said I wanted it to go any farther?” she pouted. “Do you think you’re irresistible?”

  “I’m a man…and you’re an incredibly beautiful woman. Things happen.”

  “What kind of things?” When he got on his high horse, it was fun to tease him.

  “Lord, you’re a brat.” The words were exasperated, but his reluctant smile was laced with humor.

  “You can keep telling yourself that I’m little more than a child, but it’s not true. I grew up a long time ago. Eyes wide open. Ideals shattered. Illusions dissolved. I’m no ingénue. And I’m in charge of my life. So while I will be eternally grateful for your help in this specific situation, I don’t need or want you to boss me around.”

  “When it comes to your health, I’ll have the last word. Or the deal’s off.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If I tell you to nap, you nap. If I expect you to eat healthy meals, that’s what will happen. You’re hiring me to be your doctor. The boyfriend is only a front. He won’t make any demands, but Dr. Jacob Wolff will have plenty.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest. Jacob’s dictatorial manner might have raised her hackles in another situation, but after that kiss, his masculine authority made her swoon inwardly with an entirely non-PC fit of feminine vapors.

  “Then we have a deal?” At this point, she might cry if he backed out. And she never cried in real life.

  He nodded once, his pewter gaze hooded. “I may be losing my mind, but yes, we have a deal.”

  She wanted to throw herself in his arms and try for kiss number two. But she restrained herself. If Jacob was impressed by decorum and common sense, she could reform. Probably. “Thank you, Doc,” she said quietly. “And since you’re in the mood to say yes, I’ll ask you again. May I spend the night?”

  Five

  Jacob tried to take her words at face value. He really did. But he was fairly certain the little minx was baiting him. She was so accustomed to getting what she wanted, her boldness came across as a mix of innocence and unabashed confidence.

  Kissing her had been a test—for him. He wanted to know what he was up against before he agreed. Given the way his body reacted to hers, the answer to her proposition should be an unequivocal no. But even knowing the danger she presented, he couldn’t get past the fact that she needed him. And God help him, he couldn’t turn her away.

  He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. It had been playing quietly in the background while he and Ariel sparred. Keeping his back to her for a few seconds, he marshaled his thoughts. It was inevitable that she had picked up on his attraction to her. His erection had pulsed between them during that restrained but surprisingly steamy kiss.

  But she needed to know from the beginning that he wouldn’t be led around by his— Oh, hell. She was probably amused by his lust. He surely wasn’t the first man to want Ariel Dane, and he wouldn’t be the last.

  Bending to put the remote inside the entertainment center, he at last straightened and faced her. “Sure,” he said laconically. “I’ve got bedrooms to spare. But you’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

  She nodded. “I have lots to do at home to get ready for the trip. I’m guessing that you will, as well.”

  “Indeed. Starting with an edited but truthful explanation for my family as to why I’m jetting off to the Caribbean on a whim.”

  “Why does it have to be edited? Couldn’t you just call it a vacation?”

  “I want to protect your privacy. And I don’t take vacations.”

  She flushed. “You’ll think of something.” While Jacob leaned a hip against the ba
ck of the sofa, she stood up to prowl, her nervous energy palpable. A Barbie doll peeking from beneath a chair caught her attention. She picked it up. “Is this for research purposes?”

  “I have a brand-new niece…not an infant,” he hastened to explain. “But Kieran recently found out he has a daughter. Cammie. She must have left it when they were here last.”

  Ariel’s expression was wistful. “How old is she?”

  “Five. Starting kindergarten. We’ve all fallen in love with her.” He paused, struck by the naked longing he saw on her face. “Do you want to have children one day?”

  She set the doll on the coffee table and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “It’s tough to give kids a normal life in Hollywood.”

  “Some people manage.”

  “I don’t think I’d be good at it. Motherhood, I mean. I have too many bad habits, too many faults. What kind of example would I be?”

  He cocked his head, trying to decipher the words between the lines. “The idea of a perfect mother is a myth.”

  “You haven’t met my mom.”

  “Perhaps I’ll get to one day.”

  She shrugged. “Doubtful.” With an almost visible effort, she slipped back into movie star mode. “I’m hungry,” she said with a winsome smile. “Do you cook?”

  “Only the basics. We can always go up to the main house and have dinner with the extended family. I can make up some excuse for why you’re here.”

  Unease skittered across her face. “Let’s not. I’m sure they are charming people, but they’ll want to ask questions and talk movies, and I’m—” She stopped abruptly.

  “You’re…?”

  “I don’t know. Tired, I guess. I like your house. It’s peaceful. Do you have a pantry?”

  There she went again, dragging the conversation off on a tangent. “I do,” he conceded. “But I’m not sure how well it’s stocked.”

  She paused beside him during one circuit of the living room, her breast almost brushing his shoulder. “Let’s go check it out. It will be fun.”

  Bemused, he stood up and directed her toward his large kitchen. His cousin, Annalise, had contributed to the design here. Top-of-the-line appliances and countertops in black granite speckled with gray adorned this room where he seldom spent time. It was easier to hop up the hill when he wanted more than a peanut butter sandwich.

  Ariel paused, hands on hips, and scanned the area. “Nice,” she said. “Nothing a few red dishcloths couldn’t spruce up. Why do you have such a fancy kitchen if all of you eat together in the castle?”

  “We don’t always. I suppose it seems odd to outsiders, but my father and Uncle Vincent hold court every evening. Now that my two brothers are married, they’re often tucked away in their own houses. But my cousins and I may or may not show up at the Wolff dinner table depending on our schedules. And Gareth and Kieran are welcome with their new brides. It’s sort of an open door policy.”

  “I feel sorry for the chef. Meal planning must be a nightmare.”

  Jacob had never really thought about it. “The kitchen staff is compensated well,” he said, ruefully noting the defensiveness in his voice. Again, Ariel had put him at a disadvantage. Certainly she was surrounded by a host of people to do her bidding on any given day. And yet somehow she seemed more clued in than most about other perspectives than her own.

  The copper-bottomed pots hanging overhead caught her attention. “Here’s some color,” she teased.

  “I could probably dig up a blue pot holder if it would make you feel better.”

  She ignored him, flinging open the door to the roomy pantry. “Heads up, Doc.” He nearly dropped the bag of flour she tossed in his direction. It was a good thing he was ready for the cans of peaches and blueberries. The fusillade continued until he was hard-pressed to juggle the assortment of groceries.

  Finally she was satisfied.

  Leaving him to carefully deposit the pile of supplies on the counter, she began flinging open cabinets willy-nilly. Watching Ariel bend over was not the smartest thing Jacob had ever done. Her heart-shaped ass was delineated beautifully in soft, faded denim. His hands itched to palm her butt.

  Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest. “May I ask what you have in mind?”

  She straightened, a shallow pan in her hand. “Fruit crepes à la Ariel. And bacon if you have any.”

  His mouth watered while his stomach, for an instant, took precedence over his baser instincts.

  “You don’t have to cook for me. We have thirty or forty employees on staff.”

  She twirled the pan, placed it on the stove, and reached in the fridge for butter and bacon. “I like being waited on as much as the next girl,” she said, her voice muffled. “But it’s kinda nice to be alone, don’t you think?”

  As her seemingly innocuous words sank into his brain, she straightened. “Sit on a stool and talk to me.”

  “This is my house,” he muttered, the statement a complaint and a reminder to himself. Her loose ponytail exposed a swanlike neck.

  “Well, so what. Get over it, Doc. How do you like your bacon?”

  “Crisp,” he sighed. They chatted while Ariel prepared the meal. On the surface, their conversation was completely ordinary. But something about Ariel’s husky voice made the most banal comments sound like an invitation into her bed.

  And at the moment, her bed was in Jacob’s house.

  “Do you have relationships with a lot of your leading men?” he asked bluntly.

  Her hand stilled, spatula suspended over the thin egg mixture. “Define relationship.” Her head was bent, only her profile visible.

  “You know what I mean.”

  She flipped the second crepe onto a plate warming on the side of the stove and shot him a cool glance. “Are we going to share notes on our sex lives? I’m all agog. I hear that doctors are a hot ticket item in the dating pool. You must have plenty of notches in the old bedpost. Orange juice?”

  The juxtaposition of her prosaic question with the flammable topic silenced him as he followed her to the small table in the breakfast nook. As she shook out her napkin and took a seat, he realized she wasn’t going to answer him. He should be ashamed of his probing question, but he wasn’t. He told himself the information might have implications about her general health, but the truth was, he was jealous as hell.

  And angry, if he were honest. Ariel was hardly the first talented young actress to fall victim to immaturity. She wasn’t exactly Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears, but she had scored her own share of the tabloid pages.

  She said she didn’t drink, and Jacob had seen no evidence of drug use. But there had been plenty of men. Lots of men. One who was even old enough to be her father. Had her mother been unable to protect her from the predators who were lured by Ariel’s fresh-faced innocence and joie de vivre?

  Okay, so maybe predator was a harsh word. Thinking of the ways she might have been taken advantage of made his stomach hurt. But more than that, he was uncomfortably aware that he wanted her in the exact same fashion.

  His only saving grace would be to resist temptation and to take care of her in every way possible. As he dug into his food, he watched her. Someone had been working overtime when she was conceived. Like an impressionist painting, if you examined every facet of her face and body, she was simply a woman. But put it all together, and Ariel Dane was a masterpiece.

  The eyes alone would have made her attractive, but with her luminous skin, perfect bone structure and lithe body, she was the epitome of feminine grace and beauty. The only flaw he could spot anywhere—if you wanted to call it that—was that her ears were a tiny bit big for her head.

  As if she had read his mind, she covered the side of her face and frowned. “Quit staring at me. I shouldn’t have put my hair up this morning.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s hard not to look. You’re a stunning woman.”

  “On the set, when I was younger, every time I put my hair into a bun or a ponytail, some of the other ki
ds would call me Dumbo.”

  Jacob frowned. The vulnerability and hurt in that one sentence staggered him. Ariel Dane was regarded as one of the most beautiful women in America. But she had no clue. Incredible.

  He finished his last few bites and sat back. “That was fantastic. Thank you, Ariel.”

  She beamed. “Thank my mom. She started teaching me how to cook when I was ten.”

  When he saw that she had cleared her plate, he stood up. “If I’m going to be your pseudo boyfriend, let’s get one thing straight.”

  Apprehension widened her eyes. “What?”

  He bent down and first kissed the shell of one ear and then the other. “Your pretty little ears are perfect. And if anyone thinks differently, you send them to me and I’ll straighten them out.”

  Ariel scooted away from him and stood to gather the plates. “I didn’t know I was hiring Sir Galahad.” The words were flip, but he saw her blink away tears, though she tried to hide her emotion.

  Concern and empathy mingled in his heart. He knew what it was like to be the cynosure of all eyes, to be judged by a different standard. In his final year in med school, it had come out that he was one of the Wolffs. His classmates, many of whom had worked alongside him for years, suddenly regarded him with suspicion and, in a few cases, envy. One angry intern demanded to know why he was taking up a coveted spot in the program when Jacob had more than enough money for a lifetime.

  In the blink of an eye, Jacob was standing on the outside looking in. The profession that had welcomed him into its ranks and made him feel as if he belonged was no longer an oasis of normalcy.

  Everyone knew that Wolffs were a breed all their own. Some sympathized with him for surviving the long-ago tragedy. But for most, Jacob’s connection to the clan meant he was now an alien presence in the world of the hospital.

  With an inward sigh for the problems of the past, he followed Ariel into the kitchen and laid down the law. “Leave it,” he said firmly as she began attacking the pile of dirty dishes.