Harlequin Medical Romance December 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (12 page)

Not very poetic, but true.

She curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir.” Her eyes swept over him. “You look quite dapper yourself.”

Taking the jacket from her, he held it out so that she could slide her arms through, her scent spiraling up and knocking another cog from his senses.

Suddenly, he had to know. “Have you practiced our signal?”

“I'm afraid I might fall over if I try anything funny in these.” With that, she lifted up the hem of her dress and showed him what she meant.

And he could see why she had her doubts. The shoes fit the style of dress she was wearing and made her look tall and lean.

Statuesque. That was the word he wanted.

The sandals were exactly as she'd said they would be, gold with thin straps crisscrossing over the top of her foot and then wrapping around her ankle. To say they were high was an understatement.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe I should be the one making the distress signal.” And he could see himself making it right about now. Because he was definitely in distress.

Jess laughed and let her dress fall back down, covering those devastating shoes. “A little different from my no-nonsense hospital gear.”

“I'm seeing a wardrobe review in the future once they catch a glimpse of you.”

Her hair was caught up in some kind of fancy clip at the back of her head and that streak of gray was on prominent display. He stepped closer and slid the backs of his fingers up the silky strands. “This looks quite fashionable.” He loved that little quirk about her. In fact, he loved a few too many things about the woman.

“It only took a minute, really.”

And all he could think of was how it would only take a minute to undo the clasp and let her hair fall down around her shoulders in glorious disarray. Or to wake up to find it across his pillow.

He needed to shut down this line of thought right now. Before he decided they didn't need to go to any staff Christmas party. They could have their own little party right here. Right now.

Except he'd already seen what Jess thought of that idea. And he couldn't imagine her settling for less than everything either. She deserved it.

He just wouldn't be the one to give it to her. He needed to remember that. He'd had a phone call that underscored all the reasons why he'd stayed out of relationships over the last fifteen years. He dropped his hand back to his side and took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

* * *

She handed her coat to the attendant with a murmured thank you.

From the way it was decorated it might have been a completely different hotel from the one her folks had had their anniversary party in. The ballroom was spectacular with arching pillars that shimmered with twinkle lights. Draped satin tablecloths covered the buffet tables, which held a stunning array of food. To the left of the tables, a bar offered up what looked like every type of drink imaginable.

She sent a memo to herself to not go near it. Not because of her grandfather. But because of Dean. He was doing a number on her senses that alcohol couldn't touch. But mixing the two could create an explosion she wouldn't be able to control. And right now, with his hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the room, lighter fluid was slowly being trickled across the kindling in her head. One spark and up she'd go.

Isabel waved to her from across the room, lifting her glass in salute, but even from this distance her friend seemed a little distracted. Or maybe that was just Jess. And when Dean's thumb found the bare skin just above the back of her dress and skimmed across it for a second, that distraction grew. Then his hand lifted. He leaned down. “Doing okay?”

Was he kidding? She was so far from okay that it was laughable. But there was no way she was admitting that to him. “So far, so good. It looks a lot different than it did during my folks' anniversary party.”

That night would never be quite banished from her memory, nor would the guilt, but her sister had seemed a little softer just before she'd left for home—even if they had almost argued on the phone a couple of days ago. Her mum was also a bit more mellow. Whether she had Dean to thank for that or not, she wasn't sure. At some point in time, she would have to set them all straight.

But that day wasn't today. And it probably wouldn't be tomorrow.

Marissa had grown over the last three weeks and was getting stronger by the day. A few more ounces, and she would be transferred to the regular nursery.

So much had happened. Her opinion of Dean had changed entirely. And after hearing him talk to his father... Well, she never would have guessed he'd had such a difficult childhood. He seemed so confident and self-assured as an adult.

His past made her and her sister's squabbling seem petty. And her parents had never hit their children. Mum had been a bit critical at times, yes, but maybe that had spurred Jess's success in her chosen field. And that hard-won calm she was known for might have come from being able to take a step back from whatever was being dished out to her.

“Do you want something to drink?” Dean's voice broke in.

“Tonic water, if they have it.”

She smiled, remembering Dean's violent reaction to the drink at her parents' meal. Something clicked into place. “Why do you dislike it so? Does it have something to do with your dad?”

“Hmm.” The little humming sound vibrated against her ear. “Yes, actually. I was a little kid who wanted to be all grown up. Didn't quite work out the way I expected.”

Her heart ached for him. But his tone had cooled, a clear warning not to pursue this subject any further.

She modified the question she really wanted to ask. “So what
do
you drink nowadays?”

He laughed, sending a shiver over her. “I drink the real stuff. Just to prove I can.”

“Since you're a successful doctor, I'd say you have.”

“I'll get our drinks. Wait here.”

While he was gone, Jess took the opportunity to glance around, feeling kind of out of place. Work was frenetic, and she knew most of these people in a professional sense, but, outside of Isabel, Hope, Bonnie and a few of the other hospital staff, she didn't have a lot of close friends. As if reading her thoughts, Isabel appeared at her side, giving her a quick hug.

“You look fantastic,” her friend said.

Isabel was clad in a long green dress that suited her complexion and figure to a tee; Jess returned the compliment. “That dress is to die for. And those earrings...beautiful.” Silver chandelier earrings with glittery green stones dangled almost to her shoulders.

“I told you this was going to be a very grown up party.”

“No kidding. How did you all pull this off?”

“Teamwork is the key. I had a lot of help.”

Jess scrunched her nose. “I'm sorry I haven't been around to lend a hand.”

“You've had a few other things on your plate, love, with your sister and niece.” Her friend nodded toward the bar, where Dean was currently waiting for their drinks to be poured. “All those rumors are rubbish, aren't they?”

God, she was so glad to be able to tell someone. “Yes. It was a stupid ploy to get my parents and sister to stop asking me when I was going to settle down and have children.”

Isabel looked as if she was going to say something and then shook her head. “Just a warning, then. A little batch of mistletoe has been making its way around the ballroom. I've been circling the room to make sure it doesn't find me.”

An old flame from Isabel's past had appeared at Cambridge Royal without warning a couple of months ago. She hadn't told Jess much about Sean Anderson, other than the fact that she was dismayed by his presence.

“Did Sean come?”

The other woman's glance darted to the left to the far side of the room, past where dancers floated to the sound of a small chamber orchestra. “Oh, he's here. I'm trying to stay out of his way as well, so if I rush toward you with a look of panic in my eyes, can you stash me beneath one of the buffet tables or something?”

Jess laughed. “Of course I can. You'd just better hope that Sean, the mistletoe and you don't converge at the same place at the same time.”

“Not a chance.” Isabel shuddered. “I'm keeping my eye on both of them. So far, so good.”

Dean appeared at her side, drinks in hand. Isabel greeted him and then turned back to Jess. “Don't forget about that warning. Converging is to be avoided at all costs.”

“I won't forget.”

Then her friend was off in the opposite direction of Sean, who Jess could swear watched her go when she glanced in that direction.

“What kind of converging are we supposed to avoid?”

“Someone smuggled in some mistletoe, and we're supposed to be watching for it.”

One of Dean's brows went up. “And avoiding it, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“Would that be such a tragedy? I can remember a time or two when some mistletoe might have been in order.” Lazy amusement colored his tone.

Jess squirmed, her face heating. “We didn't have an audience then.” Oops, except they had that time at her house. “Well, not one that wasn't planned.”

“That's true. And you played your part quite well on that occasion.” He handed her the glass of tonic water.

Ignoring his comment, she nodded at the glass in his hand. “What did you end up getting?”

“Whiskey.” He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler and then glanced up with a frown. “It'll be my only one, if you're worried about making it home safely.”

“Not worried at all.” From what she gathered about Dean's father, he was not angling to be anything like him. “Have you heard from him again?”

“No.” He took a quick sip just as the sound of clapping came their way.

Jess glanced to see what was going on and spied the mistletoe being held over the heads of two unsuspecting victims who were being urged to kiss. A quick peck was the result.

“I hope it stays on that side of the room.” She took a sip of her water, finding it distasteful all of a sudden. Because of what Dean had told her about his aversion to it?

“What's that face for?”

She laughed. “Just wondering exactly why I've always drunk this. It's quite awful, isn't it?”

“Am I winning you over to the dark side?”

“Maybe the enlightened side.”

“Do you want me to get you something else?”

She shook her head. “I'm a lightweight. I'm good with a sip or two, but after that things start going downhill.”

“I can't imagine you tipsy.” One side of his mouth went up in a half smile.

“It's not a pretty picture, believe me.”

Another bout of clapping occurred, still on the other side of the room.

His smile disappeared. “It normally isn't.”

She really should try to be more sensitive.

“I'm so sorry your dad hurt you.” She touched his arm, trying not to picture Dean as a little boy who was frightened of the man who'd fathered him. “You talked about not wanting me to face my sister on my own. You shouldn't have had to face what he did on your own.”

“It's in the past.” He held out his drink. “Since you're only good with a sip or two, do you want to share mine?”

Suddenly feeling as if she did indeed need something stronger than her fizzy water, she accepted the drink, letting him take her glass and set it down on a nearby table.

The tumbler was heavier than she expected, and there was an imprint on the side of it—from Dean's lower lip as he'd sipped? A tingle ran over her and, feeling slightly naughty, and very sure that Dean wouldn't realize what she was doing, she turned the glass slightly and drank from that very spot.

God. The smooth whiskey burned her throat as it went down, but it was nothing compared to the scorching heat that went through her when she caught Dean's eyes on her.

He knew exactly what she'd done. She saw it in the flash of awareness in his gaze, the slight flaring of his nostrils. The way his gaze traveled across her throat, and continued downward. Her toes curled in her fancy shoes and panic washed through her.

She was playing with fire. This man was more perceptive—and far more dangerous—than any other man she'd gone out with, including Martin.
Especially
Martin. Dean was an expert at playing these games, while she was a hopeless novice.

But that didn't mean she didn't want to experience what he had to offer at least once. He'd made casual sex seem like the best thing imaginable.

Well, she wanted some of what he was offering, and it wasn't the liquid in this glass.

Feeling a slight dizziness that had nothing to do with liquor, she slowly raised the drink back to her mouth, holding his gaze this time as she took another tiny sip, allowing her lips to remain on the glass much longer than necessary.

Dean's mouth tightened, and he plucked the glass from her hands. “You're going to need that magic signal, Jess, if you keep that up. Only I'll be the one you need rescuing from.”

Yes. She wanted that. Wanted to have to be rescued from him.

Dean raised the tumbler to his nose and inhaled deeply, sending another shudder through her. Could he smell her on the glass? Then he drained the drink and set it aside on the table. “Dance with me.”

He held out his hand.

She shouldn't. She'd already warned herself that she was becoming enamored of him. Did she really want to be toyed with and then dumped as Martin had done with her?

No. But she couldn't be dumped if she walked away after one night. No strings. No promises. Just hot sex with the sexiest man she'd ever laid eyes on.

Decision made, she put her hand in his. “Aren't you afraid people are going to talk even more?”

“If they're going to talk, we'd better make it worth their while. We can always set everyone straight later.” He drew her against him. “Besides, do you really care what they think?”