Tempted by the Heart Surgeon

by Lucy Ryder

  He snatched the condom from her and brushed her fingers aside. “Next time,” he rasped, sheathing himself with a hand that shook. And before she could remind him that there wouldn’t be a next time, he pulled her legs up and entered her in one long hard thrust.

  Sam’s body instantly arched as her inner muscles spasmed around the unfamiliar invasion. His breath whooshed out and he stilled, head thrown back, neck straining and muscles ironhard as he struggled with his runaway control. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

  But then every thought was directed to where they were joined, to where he stretched her to the point of pain. He was huge, bigger than any man she’d ever seen, and while she hadn’t had sex in nearly two years, she couldn’t ever remember it feeling this good. Couldn’t remember feeling this good.

  Her breasts throbbed as flames licked across her skin, tightening her belly and clenching the muscles surrounding his erection. She’d never been so “in the moment” before that she was blind to everything but the way his body felt invading hers.

  Finally, he began to move. Slowly, purposefully, with long slow withdrawals and heavy solid thrusts. Moaning, Sam arched, tilting her hips to take him more fully.

  He groaned and thrust harder, deeper. Light exploded behind her eyes and a delicious chaos began to swirl in her belly, edging up the heat and sending ripples of electricity streaking across her skin. She clutched at him to keep from spinning off into deep dark space but with each solid thrust, he sent her spiraling higher and higher.

  Just when she thought that she couldn’t take more, he changed the angle and speed of his thrusts. The air was filled with heavy breathing, muttered encouragement, ragged curses and the sound of flesh striking flesh.

  “Open your eyes, Amanda,” he rasped in a tight, hoarse voice. “I want to see you when you come.” Incapable of resisting his demand, her lashes fluttered up and she found herself staring helplessly into pools of molten black surrounded by a thin circle of burning gold.

  His inky hair fell over his brow, swaying with each pounding thrust, and half concealing his fierce expression. It was the hottest, most erotic thing she’d ever seen and with the next downward thrust and grind of his hips, she went careening over the edge.

  Her body arched in a desperate bow and the sound that tore from her throat might have mortified her if she’d been capable of thought. Lost in the fiery ecstasy of her own climax, Sam was only vaguely aware of Adam’s pounding race to the finish, the forceful slamming of his hips against hers and finally—the low thrilling sound of his release.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two months later

  SAM UNCLIPPED HER seat belt and reached for her phone. Fortunately, the past two months had been a whirlwind of activity that had kept her from thinking too much—about Lawrence, canceling her wedding and San Francisco.

  During the day, at least. At night—well that was another story altogether, but she’d have to put that brief chapter behind her because there would be no more tall dark gorgeous strangers in her future.

  She shivered, recalling the last time she’d been seated in a pressurized cabin. She’d spent the entire flight back to Boston alternately blushing, grinning like an idiot and then feeling aghast at what she’d done.

  Heat rose up from the center of her body like a volcanic pipe of magma when she recalled that she’d bought a hot pink thong and slept with a hot gorgeous man she’d known for all of three hours.

  Omigod. She’d slept with a complete stranger! She must be an awful person to have spent the night with a strange guy only a couple of days after breaking off her engagement to a man she’d known and loved for years. Although, it was clear she didn’t know him nearly as well as she’d thought.

  She was a trollop and she was headed for hell. Okay, so she was actually heading back to California, but according to her grandmother, it was one and the same. Especially after dropping the there-will-be-no-wedding bomb that had put her relative in an icy uproar. She didn’t care. There was no way she’d ever consider living a lie like her grandmother.

  Something had happened to her during that weekend and now there was no going back. In the space of three days, her life had changed irrevocably. She’d walked in on something she’d give her left kidney to unsee, and then in a fit of furious rebellion, she had entered an upscale lingerie boutique and bought her first thong—heck she’d splurged on an entire bagful of sexy stuff in an attempt to make herself feel like a desirable woman again.

  She’d worn a short pink princess dress more suited to a high school senior and entered a bar for the first time in her life to escape the nauseatingly sweet, romantic wedding where she was the tallest and oldest bridesmaid. Oh, yeah, and to avoid Mr. Hands.

  She’d tossed back shooters with names no self-respecting Boston debutante would contemplate let alone say and given a gorgeous guy a lap dance. Then because he’d looked like temptation, in a sexy dark angel way with his whiskey eyes and potent mouth, she’d kissed him like he was the last man she would taste before the earth was destroyed by an asteroid.

  And if that wasn’t enough, she’d then been stuck in a lift with a woman who’d gone into labor and practically attacked the hotter-than-sizzling dark angel the moment they were alone.

  Who the heck could ignore or top that as a life-changing experience?

  It was no wonder she’d felt like a completely different person when she’d returned to Boston. She’d felt as though her entire world had shifted on its axis and she was in the wrong place and time. It was like she’d woken from a cryogenic state to a world that no longer seemed familiar, feeling trapped in a life and body that was meant for someone else.

  Fortunately, Colleen Rutherford, her grandfather’s mistress of almost forty years, had come to her rescue, offering Sam a job as Operations Director of The Galahad Foundation. Okay, so the job offer had come about a year ago but since Sam had been engaged and planning her wedding at the time, she’d declined.

  It had taken a particularly difficult encounter with her grandmother to finally push her over the edge. Summoned to lunch at the Mandarin Oriental, the formidable CEO of Gilford Pharmaceuticals had proceeded to lecture her about her duty to the Gilford name. She’d ordered Sam to get over her childish whining and get her wedding to Lawrence Winthrop the Third back on track.

  The command had stunned her, although it shouldn’t have since her grandmother had been content to live a forty-year lie all for the sake of appearances. Lilian had brushed aside Sam’s objections, ignored her explanations and told her men cheated all the time and that she owed it to the Gilfords to make a good marriage since her mother had let the name down by marrying a Jefferies.

  Realizing her objections were falling on deaf ears, Sam had listened politely, then returned to the art museum where she was the outreach coordinator and phoned Colleen “Coco” Rutherford to ask if the job offer was still on the table.

  Upon being assured that it was, she’d promptly accepted, typed up a resignation letter and put her South End house on the market all in the space of one afternoon.

  Now here she was, one month later, winging her way west to start a new life. Pity she couldn’t leave behind the images that had been burned into her brain because now that she was finally motionless—and heading to the scene of her fall from grace—all she could think about was the night she’d spent with Adam. And while there would never be a repeat, she regretted not staying a little longer. Regretted sneaking out of his hotel room while he’d been in the shower. Because as liberating as her taste of rebellion had felt at the time, Sam wasn’t really cut out for the guilt and panic of one-night stands with gorgeous strangers.

  She’d woken sprawled naked across a queen-size bed, feeling wonderfully lethargic and decadently used. Then, in the space of two heartbeats, reality had struck and she’d freaked out. She had absolutely no experience with morning-after etiquette—and she knew a h
eck of a lot about etiquette thanks to her grandmother—so while he was in the shower, she’d scrambled off the rumpled bed that smelled like a combination of them both, almost landing flat on her face when she tripped over the tangled bedding.

  Carefully avoiding the empty foil squares littering the floor like anti-personnel mines, she’d gathered her pink dress and strappy heels—there’d been no sign of the hot pink thong—and bolted.

  While nervous of her ability to handle all the impulsive life changes that she’d made over the past few weeks, she couldn’t help the dizzying relief and the feeling of lightness at having discarded her old life. At having finally taken control.

  Where she was going, no one cared about the Boston Gilfords or that she was the awkward underachiever in a family that made the Rockefellers and Oppenheimers look like a bunch of slackers.

  Feeling deliciously free for the first time in her life, Sam opened a new document on her smartphone and typed The Plan in the heading. She might be a late bloomer, she admitted, but she was doing things differently this time. Instead of letting other people orchestrate her life and weigh her down with their expectations—and disappointments—she was going to direct her own destiny. And to do that she needed a plan.

  Frowning in concentration, she began to type.

  No more engagements to “suitable” men at least in Gilford terms

  No more caving to familial pressure

  No more trying to be someone I’m not

  No more trying to hide my curves, hair or unfeminine height

  No more sedate, tasteful underwear or low-heeled shoes

  No more panic attacks

  And definitely no more one-night stands with hot dark angels

  She was going to take charge of her destiny. Or die trying.

  * * *

  Adam leaned back in his chair and stifled a yawn that was more boredom than fatigue, although there was a large portion of the latter from spending the past ten hours in surgery. He was tired, hungry and the last place he wanted to be was in a meeting at—he surreptitiously checked his cell phone—8:00 p.m. on a Tuesday night.

  As a founding member of The Galahad Foundation, he was expected to attend board meetings but tonight he was drifting while Dr. Rutherford listed the virtues and accomplishments of the foundation’s newest operations director—who was glaringly conspicuous by her absence.

  He’d already heard all about Samantha Jefferies of Boston from Coco Rutherford, having voted in favor of the new appointee a month ago. As long as he could concentrate on the reason for the foundation—consultations, transplants and surgeries for people unable to afford the huge medical costs—he was happy for anyone to take over the running of it, especially someone more experienced and suited to the position than a bunch of overworked doctors.

  Up until now, Coco Rutherford, mentor and boss, had taken on the day-to-day duties with the rest of them pitching in as needed. Adam was a busy surgeon and hated drafting letters, deciding what fundraiser to host next or organizing organ-donation drives. He hated having to decide who was more deserving of transplants or surgical procedures—there were just so damn many who needed them—and he loathed hospital policy and red tape that prevented them from doing more. That was Coco’s forte.

  Stifling another yawn, Adam ignored the cup of coffee cooling at his elbow and let his mind wander—right down the path it insisted on wandering every time he had two minutes to himself. Ever since the weekend he’d presented a paper at UCSF School of Medicine, he’d thought about his Peony. Despite their unspoken agreement that it was just a one-night stand, he’d found himself wondering where she was, why she’d left without saying goodbye and if he’d ever see her again.

  After that first explosive encounter, he’d taken time to explore her long lush body and had noticed the pale band of flesh on her ring finger. He’d wondered if she’d removed her rings to pretend she wasn’t married, if she was recently divorced or wanted one last wild weekend fling before tying the knot with another man.

  Maybe her leaving while he was in the shower was a good thing because he wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with married women or being some engaged girl’s last wild fling. He’d been the result of an engaged debutante’s final rebellion and had spent his entire life not belonging in either his father’s or his mother’s worlds.

  Although he didn’t know if Amanda was from a rich and powerful family, he’d been pretty sure that he’d been her big rebellion against something. And yet he’d woken hoping to talk her into spending the day with him because he hadn’t wanted to let her go.

  He knew nothing about her except her first name and that she panicked in a crisis.

  Oh, yeah, and she had a tiny velvety mole on the outer curve of her left breast where it met her ribs, sexy dimples at the base of her spine and that she was the most responsive woman he’d ever been with. He also knew her lips were soft and full and that she enjoyed kissing more than any woman he knew. And when she was aroused, her startling blue eyes darkened to cobalt. Just the memory of her biting her lip to hold back the throaty moans and sexy sighs she’d made when he’d taken his mouth on a torturous exploration of her body, made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

  Adam was just about to suggest they postpone meeting the new recruit when he became aware of voices coming from the outer office.

  The hair on his arms and the back of his neck rose in premonition and he looked up from where he’d been doodling peonies just as the door was flung open and a feminine whirlwind entered in a cloud of familiar perfume and breathless apologies.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she murmured huskily, sliding into the nearest available seat—which just happened to be directly opposite Adam. “My flight was delayed in Boston and then the airline lost my luggage.”

  Everything inside him came to a screeching halt and he missed the rest of what she was saying, what Coco Rutherford said, as well as the murmurs from other board members. He missed everything because there in the flesh was the very woman he’d just been thinking about.

  Or was it?

  His gaze sharpened as he studied the newcomer, because although she bore a striking resemblance to the woman he’d spent a passionate night with, this woman looked more like an elegantly cool and well-put-together professional and less like his wild, flushed Peony.

  Gone was the tousled hair and short pink princess dress and in its place was a just-above-the-knee wraparound turquoise dress edged with black piping that molded to her body and drew attention to the spectacular curves beneath. Her chestnut hair had been drawn back into a severe bun that showcased her startling blue eyes and creamy complexion. Her makeup was perfect despite the long flight delays and the frustration of missing luggage. Her lips were a soft pink and those long, long legs that ended in sexy black sling-backs, brought back some very pleasant memories.

  Adam heard a loud buzzing in his ears and completely missed Coco’s introductions to the rest of the board members.

  If he’d wondered whether there were two women in the world who could look and sound exactly the same, down to a familiar soft gasp and the hint of a dimple in her right cheek, the moment he met those wide shocked blue eyes, he knew this cool, put-together stranger and his passionate, rumpled Peony were one and the same.

  Rising languidly, he leaned across the table to offer his hand, forcing her to take it or appear rude. Her skin was cool as she slid her hand into his and he had to admire her game face, because even as he felt the little jolt move through her, she didn’t pull away. He knew she wanted to. It was there in her eyes.

  He held on a little longer than was polite, and when her eyes gave the barest flicker and she tugged on her hand, he let his mouth curve before releasing her.

  “So it’s... Samantha?” he asked politely, deliberately trailing his fingertips over her wrist and across her palm, his gaze dropping to where her fingers curled into the p
alm he’d just caressed. She blinked, and for just a second appeared too flustered to speak.

  She finally gave a jerky nod. “That’s right,” she murmured, quickly turning away to face Coco whose speculative gaze was bouncing between them. That shiver of premonition he’d felt earlier was nothing to the one that moved through him now. It was as if Coco had caught the abrupt tension and was amused and oddly pleased by it. Sitting back, he folded his arms across his chest to stare at his mentor in silent challenge. Her reply was an arched brow and a quick grin before she went back to addressing the meeting.

  Adam pretended to listen but heard nothing. He was too busy watching out of the corner of his eyes as Samantha pretended he didn’t exist. He knew it was a pretense because he caught her sneaking peeks at him when she thought no one was looking. He could practically see the tension shimmering off her body.

  Hugely enjoying himself, he turned his head and let their gazes lock. He didn’t know what she saw in his expression but she quickly looked away, picked up the folder containing the latest financial report and fanned her flushed face.

  Finally, when Coco announced that the meeting was closed and invited everyone for refreshments, the room cleared of all but Adam and Coco in less than a minute. Slowly shoving back from the table, he followed Samantha’s quick escape with his eyes. He wanted answers. But first things first, he thought, as Coco picked up her cell phone to either check her emails or to pretend she was in an effort to discourage conversation. However, Adam had known her since she’d elected to be his med school mentor and he wasn’t easily put off. “What are you up to?” he asked when they were alone.

  She lifted a finger in a brief give-me-a-minute gesture, then continued to tap away before finally lifting her head. Her expression was coolly enquiring but Adam caught a glint in her gray eyes, as well as the quickly suppressed smile at the corners of her mouth.