The Hotshot

by Lori Wilde

  What was going on here? Why this intense sparking between them? Was it merely the sense of adventure, or was there something more? Something strongly elemental drawing them into each other’s arms.

  Then without warning a man with several cameras around his neck leaped from the bushes and started taking pictures. Behind him tumbled an attractive woman dressed in four-inch heels and a purple suit with a very short skirt. She had a tape recorder on a strap around her shoulder and a microphone in her hand.

  “Amanda Jacobs, TMZ,” she said. “Dr. Gregory, can you give us a few minutes of your time?”

  Gage winced. He hated putting Janet through this invasion of her privacy. Instinctively, he snatched her hand. One concern was paramount in his head. Protect her. At all costs.

  “Run,” he said, “we can outpace them.”

  They took off across the grass, sprinting around park benches. Dust-gray pigeons flew up before them. Amanda Jacobs’ heels clattered against the pavement, but soon both she and her middle-aged, out-of-shape cameraman fell behind.

  They zigzagged around the pond, snaking past hot dog vendors, dashing by a group of startled sunbathers.

  Gage looked back. The cameraman had doubled over to catch his breath, and Amanda Jacobs was busy berating him, but he and Janet didn’t stop.

  Hand in hand they ran. Their palms forged.

  Janet kept up with Gage step for step. She wasn’t even breathing hard. Her entire body tingled. Her cheeks flush pink. She looked positively radiant.

  Fleeing from paparazzi must agree with her. She looked like a little kid, streaking through the playground, no worries except not getting tagged. Her laughter bubbled up loud and clear, filling the air. Joy fizzed through him at her joy.

  What was this silly game they were playing?

  He glanced over to find her studying him. He squeezed her hand, then winked.

  She winked back.

  His feelings of goodwill grew and filled his chest to bursting.

  He laughed with her. A beautiful sound, Janet’s laughter. They were laughing together. Laughing and looking and longing for something inexplicable.

  Gage was so busy staring at her, he didn’t see the wooden mile marker on the jogging trail up ahead.

  “Gage look out!” she cried.

  But it was too late.

  Ooph!

  The post caught him low in the belly.

  Her hand broke away from his at the impact. His fedora flew off. He somersaulted in midair and ended up on his back in the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky and her worried face.

  Great. Just great.

  Sprawled out on the soft ground as he was, Gage knew he must look like some hapless cartoon character. Now he knew how Charlie Brown felt when Lucy kept pulling the football out from under him.

  “Are you all right?” Janet gently patted his cheek, first one side and then the other. “Gage, speak to me.”

  Way to impress the lady, Gregory.

  The breath knocked from his lungs. He couldn’t say a word. But he could look. He searched her eyes, telegraphing his feelings, telling her he was okay.

  She bent lower over him, her hair falling against the side of his face. It tickled his nose nicely.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he wheezed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Don’t you dare.”

  Her lips were inches from his now. One lone tear slid from her cheek and dropped to his bottom lip. The salty flavor of that bitter tear gave him strength. This was very important. He had to let her know exactly how wonderful she was.

  “But...”

  “Shhh. Stop blaming yourself for everything. You’ve been taking responsibility for things beyond your control for too many years.”

  “I... Am I that transparent?” Her confused expression tugged at his gut.

  “You’re a terrific person, Janet. Beautiful, kind, understanding. A brilliant doctor. If your father can’t see that, then he’s a blind fool who doesn’t deserve your love.”

  “You really think so?” She blinked back the tears and gave him a smile so sweet his heart jumped to his throat.

  “I know so.”

  He ached to taste those lips again. Gently, he pulled her down. She placed one knee on either side of his prostrate body and lowered her chest to his.

  They lay pressed hip to hip against the earth, held together by their gazes. The pressure of her body drove him wild with desire. He forgot everything. In that moment he was simply a man and she was simply the woman he wanted.

  “Now, where were we?” he murmured. “Before we were so rudely interrupted.”

  She lowered her mouth to his. Her tongue was both wicked and pure, her breath warm, her taste heavenly. Many tumultuous thoughts tumbled through his head. Hot, sexy thoughts that included some long-held fantasies.

  Snap. Click. Whirl.

  “What the hell?”

  In unison, they turned their heads and looked over at the grinning cameraman, taking shot after shot of their compromised position.

  Amanda Jacobs was on her knees in the dirt beside them. She thrust the microphone in Janet’s face. “So, tell the entire world, honey, just how good in bed is the hunkiest bachelor alive?”

  12

  Janet glanced down at the ring Gage had placed on her finger that afternoon in the shopping mall. It was a cubic zirconia in a cheap setting, purchased for appearances’ sake. It meant nothing. Nothing at all.

  So why couldn’t she stop holding her left hand out in front of her and staring at the stupid thing?

  Why couldn’t she stop having so much fun with him?

  After their run-in with the overzealous Amanda Jacobs, with whom they surrendered and agreed to a brief interview. They’d completely committed to the charade. Might as well go all in.

  Afterward, they’d had lunch at a local pizza hangout. It had been the best darned pizza she had ever eaten. Then they’d played video games in an arcade as if they were tweenagers.

  They had also had their photo taken in one of those booths with the cheesy black curtains. Janet had the snapshot—they were both sticking out their tongues—tucked into her front pocket.

  In the picture, she looked totally unlike herself, a bit silly, carefree and girlish.

  “Our official engagement photo,” Gage had said when he handed it to her, and she’d experienced this weird, sappy sensation in the pit of her stomach. A serious what-if? scenario started playing in her brain until rational voice quickly shut it down. She would not indulge those ridiculous fantasies.

  “So this is what it’s like being engaged to Gage Gregory,” she murmured.

  “Yes, I guess it is.”

  They were walking toward their building, the afternoon almost gone, when they spied the contingency of reporters still camped out on the front stoop.

  “They’re more persistent than flies,” Gage muttered.

  “This is nuts.” She shook her head.

  “Gotta face ’em sometime. You ready?”

  She nodded. Hand in hand, they ran the gauntlet. Gage shielded her with his arm as they pushed their way through the throng. Once inside, the door firmly locked behind them, Janet turned to view the tumult through the window.

  “Aren’t you glad we’re not really getting married? Can you imagine the actual wedding bedlam?”

  “No,” she said in all honesty. “I can’t.”

  Then through the mini-blinds she saw something on the street that struck terror into her heart. She plucked at Gage’s sleeve. “Oh, no, here comes my own bit of insanity.”

  From a white sedan parked at the curb, Gracie and a smiling, round-faced man Janet didn’t know emerged carrying boxes. Blithely, they made their way toward the crowd.

  The reporters fell upon Gracie and her companion like mosquitoes on beachgoers.

  “We’ve got to stop her from talking. Once she gets wound up, she’ll never quit,” Janet said.

  Determined to muzzle her mother before she could
start in on her Baby Predicate spiel and Nadine’s amazing powers of prognostication, Janet flung open the door. “Mother, get in here. Quick!”

  Gracie beamed at her. “Oh, my dear, isn’t this exciting? Everyone wants to ask me about you.”

  The reporters were hurtling questions fast and furious. Janet dragged her mother and her male friend inside while Gage slammed the security door behind them. He hustled everyone toward the elevator and relieved Gracie of the heavy box in her arms.

  “Janet, Gage,” Gracie said as the four of them entered Janet’s condo. “This is Sam Pinkerton.” She flashed the man beside her a smile.

  Sam grinned back.

  “How do you do, Dr. Hunter. It’s a great pleasure to meet you. You too, Dr. Gregory.” Sam set his box on the floor then shook their hands.

  “And you are...?” Janet said, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t like the way Gracie kept glancing at the man. As if she couldn’t get enough of looking at him.

  “Well, sweetie, it’s a surprising story.” Gracie blushed. “Sam and I used to know each other in high school, but his family moved away, and we lost touch. Imagine my surprise when I’m on social media last night, and lo-and-behold there was Sam with a private message for me. Turns out Sam’s a widower with three daughters. He took over his wife’s wedding planning business after she died. His oldest, Jenny, is due to deliver her first baby around Christmas.” She clapped her hands and finally took a breath. “Isn’t this fantastic?”

  Sam was Gracie’s high school sweetheart? Her mother had said as little, but the fact that Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Gracie gave their secret away.

  “We’ve brought along samples of his work.” Gracie showed the boxes with a flourish. “You wouldn’t believe the choices. You can have a Renaissance wedding where everyone comes in costume and speaks Old English. Or you can get married in a hot-air balloon over the ocean. Or you can tie the knot on a carousel in an amusement park.”

  “Mother, I don’t mean to be rude to Mr. Pinkerton, but this isn’t the time or the place. We’re not getting married in 17th century England, nor in a hot-air balloon gondola on a ride at Six Flags.”

  “I think in your enthusiasm you’ve overwhelmed the young people, Gracie,” Sam Pinkerton said. “Perhaps they need more time.”

  “You’re right, Sam.” Gracie blushed prettily. “I do have a tendency to get carried away with a project.”

  Understatement of the century.

  Janet could only stare, openmouthed. She’d never seen her mother curbed so easily. What was going on here?

  Sam smiled. “Your wedding can be as simple or as elaborate as you wish. Obviously, with all the goings-on downstairs, you’re not in the mood to talk wedding arrangements right now. I’ll just leave my portfolio and you can look through it at your convenience.”

  “Can’t we at least just show them the fabulous honeymoon suite at that resort in Australia?” Gracie asked.

  “All in good time.” Sam touched her arm tenderly.

  Janet noticed how similar they looked. Both short of stature, both with auburn hair and identical smiles. Like matching bookends.

  Amazing.

  What was the world coming to? Paparazzi chasing her in the park. Her father asking her to dinner. Her mother reunited with an old ...flame? And then there was Gage, who kept kissing her as if he really meant it.

  Her world had skittered helter-skelter out of check, and she didn’t know how to regain control. It was all too much to absorb.

  “Everybody,” she said. “Please. I need to be alone.”

  During the freak show that followed the broadcasting of their “engagement,” work was Janet’s only salvation. She kept busy, offering to take on extra duties just to keep her mind occupied and her body out of the cramped office she shared with Gage.

  On Monday, she had gone to dinner with her father, and then on to pick out invitations to the engagement party. She tried to work up the courage to tell her father the truth about the engagement, but for the first time in her life he’d spoken to her as an equal and she couldn’t find the right words.

  On Tuesday, the crowd of reporters grew larger, eager for a glimpse of the woman who’d stolen Gage Gregory’s heart. She wore dark sunglasses, kept her head down, and repeatedly muttered “no comment” whenever someone thrust a microphone in her face. If this was fame, give her anonymity any old day. No wonder Gage bolted from Hollywood.

  “Morning, Dr. Hunter,” Annie, the receptionist, greeted her on Wednesday morning when she stopped by the front desk to pick up her messages.

  “Umm, thanks.”

  “You’ve broken all the nurses’ hearts, dontcha know. Snapping up the sexiest bachelor doctor to ever these hallways.”

  Yeah, well, tell them to dry their weeping eyes, he’ll be back on the market soon enough.

  Why did that idea strike her as dismal? She didn’t want a proper engagement with Gage.

  Did she?

  Perish the thought, rational voice said.

  Why? impish voice asked. Can you think of anyone more sumptuous to be engaged to?

  She’d rather not be engaged to anyone, rational voice responded condescendingly. She’s a smart, independent doctor. She doesn’t need a man to complete her, you ninny.

  Hey, there’s no reason to call me names just because she listens to you more than she does me.

  Not lately she doesn’t.

  Maybe that’s because she’s beginning to realize you 're no fun.

  Janet shook her head to clear her mind of her internal warring factions and held out her palm to Annie. “Messages?”

  “Oh, you’ve got a bucket load of them.” Annie reached under her desk and produced a fat manila envelope stuffed to bursting with scraps of paper.

  “Are these messages all from patients?”

  Annie shook her head. “Nope.”

  “The media.” She sighed.

  “Yep, and one message from your mother. She’s got a special tea she wants you to try. Apparently, it helps with fertility.”

  Mother! For pity’s sake. “If she calls again, tell her I’m too busy to talk.”

  “What about these others?”

  Janet sighed. “I don’t want this media frenzy to affect our work. Only forward me information dealing with patient care.” She waved a hand at the pile. “You can throw the rest of those away.”

  Annie dug in the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. “You mean you don’t want to give ET an interview?”

  “No.”

  “How ’bout People.”

  “No, Annie.”

  “I guess this proposition from Charlie Sheen is a no.”

  “What! Give me that.” Janet snatched the message from the receptionist’s hand and stared at it. “Oh, for the love of Pete.”

  She crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash can. “Only give me information dealing with patient care. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I mean, doctor.”

  Shaking her head, Janet hurried down the hall for the safety of her office. She had no notion of what she was getting herself into when she’d pretended to be Gage’s fiancée. All she had wanted was to make her father proud of her, and what she had gotten was a three-ring circus without a ringmaster.

  Engagement parties and engraved invitations. Fertility teas and batty wannabe grandmas. Paparazzi stalking her. If she wasn’t so worried, she would have to laugh.

  The Ice Princess in demand as a pinup queen. Ludicrous.

  And yet, a small fissure of pleasure careened through her. For the first time in her life she was in demand as something other than a doctor. Oddly enough, she felt feminine and wanted.

  And it was all because of Gage.

  On Thursday morning she arrived in the office to find Gage standing at the window and staring out at the parking lot.

  She caught her breath at the sight of him and placed a hand to her stomach to still the butterflies dancing there. The morning light pouring through the half-open
blinds silhouetted his broad shoulders.

  He was so unbelievably handsome. No wonder he attracted the attention of the paparazzi. What wasn’t to like? He’d even captured the heart and imagination of her father, and that was no easy feat.

  She closed the door behind her and Gage turned to meet her gaze.

  “Hi,” he murmured. “How you holding up amidst the craziness?”

  “Me?” It touched her that he was concerned about her welfare. “What about you? I’m so sorry for all this.”

  He shrugged casually, but his eyes looked weary. She had the strangest urge to wrap her arms around him. “There you go again, accepting responsibility for something that isn’t your fault.”

  “Part of this is my fault.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you. I can’t escape my celebrity. No matter how hard I try.” He inhaled deeply. “I just want to be a good doctor, but this brouhaha gets in the way.”

  “You’re an excellent doctor.”

  “I got asked to do an interview on Howard Stern.” Gage changed the subject. “Can you believe that?”

  “I can go you one better.” She flashed him a smile. “Charlie Sheen asked me out.”

  “You’re pulling my leg,” he said. “You wouldn’t really go out with him. Would you?”

  “Would that bother you?”

  “I’m your fiancé,” he growled, but his eyes teased. “What do you think?”

  Before she could respond to his question, Gage’s intercom buzzed. He leaned over the desk and flipped the switch. “Yes?”

  “Gage, good morning.” Dr. Peter Jackson’s voice filtered over the speaker. “Is Dr. Hunter in there with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Splendid. May I see you both in my office?”

  “We’ll be right there.” Gage switched the intercom off.

  “We’re in trouble,” she said.

  “Hey, slow down. Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe he just wants to congratulate us on our impending nuptials.”