Amorous Overnight (56 page)

“Not like this one. Trust me, Rachel, you want this one.”

Reluctantly intrigued, I scowled. “What’s so special about this fellowship?”

“You’ll be working with Julian Kilmartin.”

Everything in me stilled.
Julian.
I hadn’t seen him since before Colin left, and yet, even now, his name alone had the power to make me…pliable, somehow. Boneless.

Obviously I still had a weakness for arrogant young doctors.

Swallowing, I said, “I didn’t realize you were still associated with him.”

Actually, I had no idea what had happened to Colin after my second year of residency. He’d just…disappeared. My occasional Internet searches never turned up anything current, and the few times I’d swallowed my pride and asked after him, no one had heard a word about him.

“I leave the limelight to Julian,” Colin said with a dismissive wave. “We’ve spent the last few years working on some cutting-edge research—I’m talking
razor’s
edge, Rachel—and we’re on the verge of accomplishing something truly miraculous. We need a good vascular surgeon on the team and your name was—is—right at the top of Julian’s list.”

“Why?” I asked baldly. I may have been a damn good surgeon, but I was hardly God’s gift to modern medicine. Julian Kilmartin could afford his own dream team of world-class surgeons.

Colin gave a little half shrug. “He trusts you.”

“Oh, well that explains everything.” I rolled my eyes. “You know, we doctors are, by and large, very trustworthy. That’s why they give us licenses to play Operation with real people.”

“But you’re the only one who’s you.”

I stared at him. “This is crazy. I can’t believe he even remembers me. It’s been more than five years since he left UW and went into private research, and we were in different departments, so it’s not like we even had much contact.”

“You’re a memorable woman, and Julian knows a good thing when he sees one.” At my snort, he added, “He’s kept tabs on you over the years, Rachel. You have plenty of credits in some impressive vascular journals, and that paper you did on endovascular repair of complex abdominal aortic aneurisms was particularly well received. He’s even got a podcast of you on the vascular panel at the Women’s Comprehensive Health Conference in Atlanta last spring.”

Slack-jawed with amazement, I continued to stare.

“We’ll double EVI’s financial incentive,” he tossed out.

“Holy—
Double?
” My jaw dropped even farther. The offer from Early Vascular Institute was already what most people would consider exorbitant. I could afford to pay off my student loans right away. Buy a nice house. Maybe even buy into one of the better surgical practices.

But this…

“What in the hell are you guys working on that’s worth that kind of money?” I asked suspiciously.

“Ah-ah-aaah.” He shook his head with a secretive smile. “Not until you’ve signed the contracts. And if you need a little more incentive, this project is based in Montaneva. You always wanted to travel, didn’t you, Rachel? Have you made it to Europe yet?”

I could tell from his tone that he knew I hadn’t, damn him. And he knew enough about EVI’s offer to double it. Good Lord, as if they needed more incentive than the opportunity to work with the illustrious Dr. Julian Kilmartin.

“What’s the catch?” Because there always was one. Nothing worth having came without a price.

“No catch. You agree to work for Julian for a minimum of two years, keep your mouth shut until the end of time—unless we renegotiate the nondisclosure agreement at a later date—and you’ll get your salary and all expenses paid, plus a percentage of the income from any patents that result from research you’re directly involved in.”

It was an astounding offer, but I was wary.

“Why Montaneva?”

“Let’s just say the government there is a little more receptive to outside-the-box thinking and trusts Julian to know where to draw the line.”

I frowned. Less governmental oversight could be a good thing, as long as scientists were scrupulously honest. If they weren’t…

Jesus, was I really thinking about this?

“I’ve already signed a contract with EVI,” I hedged.

Just moments ago, I was thrilled to be joining the Early Vascular Institute all the way across the country in Maryland. It was an offer beyond anything I’d dared to hope for—not that I wasn’t a damn good surgeon, but the competition was stiff and we all knew it took more than surgical skill to start out at such a prestigious practice. Connections were everything, and not only was I far from adept at making them but I’d never been comfortable taking advantage of the few I had, so why cultivate more?

Nevertheless, after three relatively painless interviews, the vascular surgery fellowship at EVI was mine and I had the signed contract to prove it. Bailing on it now could not only burn bridges, it could nuke any number of potential career highways.

“Julian will take care of it. You must be aware that money is really no object for him, and he has a lot of influence in the upper echelons of the medical community.”

All too aware. Kilmartin BioTech had made the news with astonishing regularity over the years, and Dr. Kilmartin himself was a medical visionary, a revolutionary. How could one man have been blessed with so much drive and intelligence and sheer, unadulterated personal power?

God, the offer was so tempting, but I couldn’t help hesitating. Already a headline-making neuromuscular fellow when I was still a green resident, Julian Kilmartin had intimidated the hell out of me. But he’d also cut an incredibly romantic figure with his aloof, pale Britishness, exacting standards and steel-eyed intensity, and like many of the residents on staff, I’d crushed on him pretty hard. He’d lost his father to Bain’s atrophy when he was in high school and dedicated his life to finding a cure for the aggressive lower motor neuron disease. Literally his entire life. As far as anyone knew, he didn’t exist outside a hospital or lab setting—his name had never been linked to a woman’s, which made him the target for many female rescue fantasies.

Not that
I’d
wanted to rescue him. I’d just yearned to have him eviscerate me with that rapier stare until I collapsed in on myself like a dying star. In countless daydreams, I’d made some clumsy or careless mistake in front of him and he’d dragged me by the arm to his office and given me a stern dressing-down. I was in tears long before he finished, but that didn’t stop him from bending me over the desk and pulling down my panties to reinforce the lesson with a stinging, bare-handed spanking.

And that was just one of the many twisted fantasies about Dr. Julian Xavier Kilmartin I’d entertained—not to mention masturbated to—over the two years we were at UW together. I couldn’t even keep him out of my thoughts when I was in bed with his protégé.

And to my everlasting shame, Colin had known it.

When you’re down on the farm, things are bound to get dirty!

Carnal Compromise

© 2011 Robin L. Rotham

Joe Remke has just one qualification for his lovers—he wants them gone before sunrise, which makes his new bunkmate AJ about as safe as a woman can be around him. It also makes his determination to sleep with his boss downright stupid, because if Brent ever gives in, he’ll be looking for a new job.

Ladies’ man Brent Andersen knows sex with his right-hand man Joe is inevitable, but he’s not going down without a fight. Putting the new female hired hand in their cramped RV was a stroke of genius, taking the heat off him while protecting her from the horny guys on his custom farming crew.

AJ Pender’s hard-bodied roomies may hide their feelings for each other from the rest of the crew, but they aren’t fooling her—Brent and Joe are hot for each other, and it’s all she can do not to cry at the thought. If they ever found out she fantasizes about being the meat in their farmer sandwich, they’d probably die laughing.

Fortunately for Brent and Joe, fantasies have a way of revealing themselves and AJ’s are right up their alley. But even threesomes have their risks, and AJ can serve as a buffer for only so long before the tension between them explodes.

Warning: Flying BOBs ahead—and that’s just the warm-up! Strap yourself in for a wild ride complete with ménage, m/m, and a voyeuristic f/f scene hot enough to make three grown men beg for mercy.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Carnal Compromise:

“She’s giving me that starved puppy look again.”

Joe’s murmur made Brent look up from his laptop. They sat across from each other at the dinette, and if his back weren’t to AJ, he might have checked her out covertly. But he didn’t really need to—she’d directed a similar look his way several times in the last few weeks.

“Is that a problem?” he asked in a low voice. The RV wasn’t the best place for this conversation, especially with AJ sitting right behind them, but she had the TV turned up loud enough to drown them out.

Joe rubbed his knuckles on his unshaven cheek. “It might be if you don’t find someplace else for her to bunk.”

Brent studied the man who’d been his right hand and best friend for over six years. He’d never seen Joe this on edge. His jaw was tense, his blue eyes furtive, and his dark brown hair stood on end as if he’d been shoving his hands through it for the last hour while Brent was absorbed in his bookwork. When had he gone so salt-and-pepper? Even his moustache and beard stubble glinted with a considerable helping of silver.

Actually, it was kind of surprising that AJ would be so attracted to a man showing as much wear as Joe did. Big, gruff and work-hardened, he looked older than his forty-seven years. Her attraction to Brent made more sense—he was younger, fairly laid-back and had the kind of lean blond looks that had attracted a lot of ladies over the years.

“You think so?” he asked doubtfully. “She seems more like the type to just lust from afar rather than put the moves on a guy she works with.”

“It’s not
her
moves I’m worried about.”

Brent narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re interested.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re way out of her league.”

He hadn’t intended it to be a warning, but that was how it came out. At thirty-four, AJ Pender might not be in the first blush of womanhood, but she was quiet, reserved and obviously still young and innocent in all the ways that counted. She wouldn’t have the least idea what to do if guys like them took her up on the unconscious offer in her eyes, and he’d just as soon it stayed that way.

“Tell me about it,” Joe said impatiently. After another quick glance at AJ, he said, “Let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”

Brent shut down his laptop without hesitation. Shoving the receipts back into their file folder, he stood up and unbuckled his belt to take off his pliers holster while Joe did the same. After he’d tucked the tail of his flannel shirt back into his jeans, he turned to look at AJ. The lanky blonde farmhand was curled up on one end of the couch in a baggy sweatshirt and faded jeans, dividing her attention between her own laptop and some medical drama on TV. Judging by the lack of keyboarding sounds, she’d been mostly reading rather than writing.

If he were polite, he’d ask her to go along with them. Instead he asked, “Whatcha readin’, AJ?”

Red flags appeared on her cheeks as she looked up, and she put on hand on the laptop’s lid as if she intended to slam it down if anyone came near enough to see what was on the screen. “Um, nothing. I mean, nothing much. Just an e-book. They’re a lot easier to carry around than a stack of paperbacks,” she hurried to explain.

“An e-book, huh?” He tried not to grin. “We know someone who writes e-books, don’t we, Joe?”

“We sure do,” Joe drawled, shrugging into his jacket. “Ever read anything by Amanda Garrity?”

AJ’s blue eyes widened. “You know Amanda Garrity?”

“Yup,” Brent said. “So you’ve read her books?”

He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she turned even redder. “Well, um, I think I, uh—”

“That’s okay, honey.” Brent winked at her. “We won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Instead of protesting her innocence, AJ just let her eyes slide to the TV and chewed on her lower lip. The confirmation that she read dirty books drew his balls up tight.

Ignoring the reaction, he said, “So we’re headed to town. Need anything?”

“Not unless you can get me a new pair of boots at the bar,” she said without looking at him. She was obviously uncomfortable with their knowing about her choice of reading material. It made him think, though. If AJ read the kind of books Mandy wrote, maybe she
would
know what to do if one of them—or both of them—put the moves on her.

Don’t go there. You don’t fuck the hired hands, remember?

But Joe had been known to once in a great while. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Her words finally registered and he asked, “You need boots?”

“Yeah, I knocked the corner off a heel this morning. But that’s all right,” she said, keeping her eyes glued the television. “I’ll pick up a pair when we go through Sioux Falls.”

“Okay then—guess we’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, snagging his jacket and cap off the hook by the door.