Tempted by the Heart Surgeon

by Lucy Ryder

  “Yeah,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. “We’ve done things a little backward. So, what do you say to dinner and—” He paused, a look of annoyed resignation passing across his features, and it was then that Sam realized the buzzing she felt where their bodies were pressed together had nothing to do with sexual tension vibrating between them.

  With a heavy sigh, Adam silenced his pager. Instead of moving away, he tightened his arms around her and dropped his forehead to hers. “Looks like our date will have to wait,” he murmured softly, and Sam had to squeeze her eyes closed so he didn’t see her disappointment.

  Damn. Since when had she been yearning for something as simple as a date?

  “Looks like,” she agreed, the tightness in her throat way out of proportion to the situation. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to feel the loss even before he left to attend to his patients. As though something deep within her needed to cling to this new closeness between them, the unfamiliar emotions flooding her that went beyond the physical. It should have terrified the woman who’d learned early on to hide her emotions from a grandmother who’d neither the patience nor the empathy for a little girl who’d been torn from everything familiar.

  It did terrify her, she admitted silently, but not as much as the knowledge that he might not feel the same way. Because it meant that despite her plans, despite her recent experiences, she was headed for heartbreak that made Lawrence’s betrayal feel like nothing more than disillusionment in someone she’d thought she’d known.

  This close, she couldn’t hide the tremor that went through her and when he wrapped a warm hand around her neck and tipped up her chin, the query in his warm whiskey gaze had her lashes sweeping down to hide the prick of tears that surprised as well as baffled her.

  “Hey,” he murmured softly, bending his knees to frown into her eyes. “You okay?” So much for hiding her emotions.

  Sam gave a watery laugh and pushed away from him when all she wanted to do was cling. “I’m fine.” Without looking at him, she patted his chest absently and moved behind her desk, abruptly needing space to think about the emotions currently tying her in intricate knots. “Go use your superpowers, Dr. Knight, while I use mine to see how much money I can make for your foundation.”

  He was silent a long moment, and when she sneaked a peek at him, he was studying her intently, his mouth somber, eyes unreadable. “This won’t take long and we’ll—”

  “Adam,” she interrupted softly. God, she needed him to go before she embarrassed herself. “It’s okay. We’ll make plans for the next time you’re not on call and I’m not crazy busy with the gallery evening.” He opened his mouth just as his pager buzzed again. “Go,” she laughingly ordered when he spun away with an impatient growl and headed for the door. “I have work to do.”

  When he got to the door, he planted one hand on the frame and sent her a heated look over his broad shoulder. “This discussion isn’t over,” he promised, his voice deep and rough with just a hint of warning that sent caution twisting up her spine. “I shouldn’t be long. We can have a late dinner.”

  She waited until she heard the outer door close before sinking into the chair, her breath an audible whoosh in the silence. Her knees wobbled and her hands shook, her heart thundering in her ears.

  “What the heck was that?” she demanded, when she was very much afraid she already knew. Her emotions were rapidly becoming difficult to ignore. Adam though? Who knew what he thought, how he felt about anything, especially her. But then again, hadn’t she constantly told him he was a rebound and that she had a plan for her life? A life that didn’t include him?

  Of course, he wouldn’t verbalize his feelings when he found so many similarities between his mother and Sam. And he was determined not to become like his father, which meant he’d never let himself feel anything deeper for her than hot lust and mild affection.

  Pressing the heel of her hand to the pinch beside her heart, Sam shut down her computer and tidied her desk. She would go home, pour herself a glass of wine and pretend that her life wasn’t spiraling out of control. She would pretend that being judged by someone else’s actions didn’t shred her heart and she wouldn’t let herself be devastated when Adam grew tired of her inconsistent behavior and moved on.

  Because he would. She wasn’t gorgeous and exciting like the women he probably usually dated and she was too old to wait around for someone too busy living for other people. She’d waited for Lawrence to find time to be with her, to love her, she realized with a flash of insight. As though she hadn’t deserved more. She was done with that.

  But could she believe that Adam really wanted something as simple as a date when they’d already done so much more? And if so, why?

  Why now?

  And why the heck did it matter so much?

  * * *

  Sam had been asleep for only a short while when she heard pounding. She tried to turn over and pull a pillow over her head but it didn’t shut out the noise. Finally, with a sigh, she got up because the crazy person clearly wasn’t going away and she didn’t want the noise waking her neighbors.

  She opened the door to find Adam, hands shoved into his jeans pockets, leaning against the wall, looking hot and brooding, and more than a little dangerous. In an instant, her exhaustion and depression vanished.

  For long tense moments, they stared at each other while her jittering pulse jerked, stumbled and then took up a slow sluggish rhythm. The last thing she’d expected when she’d left the office was that he’d follow—especially after her embarrassing meltdown. She’d admitted more to him than the therapist she’d seen as a child.

  His thick hair shone blue-black beneath the overhead light, his chiseled features seemingly cast in granite. Eyes, hooded and slumberous, gleamed like light-shot bourbon between his sooty lashes making it difficult to interpret his thoughts.

  Struggling against the conflicting emotions she had no idea how to handle, Sam was tempted to slam and lock the door before she did something stupid. Like yank him inside so she could get her hands and mouth all over him.

  “Dr. Knight,” she said breathlessly, her fingers tightening on the door because she’d discovered that she was achingly vulnerable when it came to this man and her instinct was to protect herself.

  Her formality had one eyebrow rising up his forehead to disappear into the lock of hair that refused to be tamed. Kind of like him, she thought. Kind of like the way he made her feel.

  “Miss Jefferies,” he drawled with an ironic twist of his lips. He hadn’t moved but she could feel the pull of his magnetism and it scared as much as it excited her. “You opened the door without checking the peephole,” he accused, his voice a rough slide of velvet against her skin.

  “You’re the only crazy person I know who likes to wake people up in the middle of the night,” she said, wildly pleased that she managed to sound coolly amused and thought, Oh, look, I learned something useful from Lilian after all.

  His gaze drilled into hers and after a couple of silent beats, he pushed away from the wall to crowd her in the open doorway. Her heart bumped against her ribs and her breath backed up in her lungs, everything within her stilling at the crackling tension he brought with him. And suddenly channeling Grandma Lilian fizzled like a wet cracker.

  Dammit, the man was too potent for her own good.

  “Yeah, crazy,” he murmured, his deep sinful voice wrapping her in heady sensations. When she refused to move, he placed a large palm against her belly and gently propelled her backward into her condo.

  She didn’t resist because the awful truth was she was emotionally attached in a way she’d never been before and was afraid it was deep and permanent. But she couldn’t think about that right now, not when he’d crowded her against the small foyer desk with his big warm body.

  Staring up into his boldly handsome face, she couldn’t help noticing how the warm glow fr
om the sitting room lamps slanted across his features and threw them into stark relief. The shimmer of light through his remarkable eyes took her breath away, watching her with predatory intent and more than a little impatience.

  She curled her fingers around the edge of the desk, hoping the sharp pain would keep her grounded. But then he slowly leaned forward and the breath backed up in her throat. Anticipation ratcheted up a thousand notches and just when she thought he’d kiss her—her lips had parted on a soft anticipatory gasp—he angled his head to brush his mouth against her ear, tugging a gasp from her lips, before dropping to press an openmouthed kiss against her throat.

  “You left,” he murmured before sucking a small patch of sensitized skin into his mouth. Her breath hitched as her mouth opened but all that emerged was a strangled laugh.

  “You expected me to...to wait?” she finally demanded, the query morphing into a startled squeak at the tiny punishing nip he inflicted on the muscle joining her neck and shoulder.

  “Why not?” he growled, nudging her thighs apart and pressing up against her heated core, covered in the thinnest stretchy lace. “I’ve waited a lifetime for you. But I’m done waiting, Samantha.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, Adam took her mouth greedily, his hands filling with her breasts, and when her head finally cleared enough to recall those words, his big body was sprawled across hers in exhaustion.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SAM REARRANGED THE remaining canapés on the platter to make room for a new batch as the servers rushed around her. Fine wine and conversation flowed freely in the art gallery she’d managed to charm into hosting the charity event, along with artworks donated by local artists. The caterers she’d hired were worth every dollar they were charging and the evening was to all intents and purposes a huge success.

  So what the heck are you doing hiding out in the kitchen when the results of all your hard work are out there?

  She paused and thrust out her bottom lip to blow cool air into her hot face. She should be reveling in her success. Instead, she was hiding in the kitchen, hoping no one would notice she was having a breakdown. Because that’s exactly how she’d felt ever since Adam had uttered those cryptic words, stolen her breath along with her mind and then fallen asleep.

  That was two days ago.

  Two days since she’d heard his pager go off; two days since he’d grunted irritably as he’d rolled away from her and she’d curled around his pillow to hold his heat to her a little longer. Exhausted, she’d been vaguely aware of him smoothing the hair off her cheek with a gentle hand before kissing her softly.

  “Gotta go,” he’d murmured against her mouth between kisses, and when she’d moaned and let her lips cling sleepily to his, she thought he’d murmured something that sounded like, “We can’t go on like this, Sam. We need to talk,” but she must have dreamed it because other than a bouquet of wildflowers that had appeared on her desk the following day without a card—from Adam?—she hadn’t so much as received a call or text message from him.

  There’d been no talking and things had gone on exactly as they had. One of them disappearing after a hot night of sex and then...nothing.

  Or maybe—maybe he’d been kissing her off. Had the flowers and the cryptic message been his way of saying they were done? Is that what he’d meant by we can’t go on like this?

  She had no idea and the suspense was killing her.

  Fortunately, organizing tonight’s event had kept her too busy to obsess and she’d managed to push everything firmly to the back of her mind. Until he’d arrived, looking Hollywood handsome in a dark designer suit over a white T-shirt that emphasized his tall rangy build, overlong inky hair and coppery gold skin. It had also emphasized the glowing amber eyes that reminded her of a large mountain cat lying in wait.

  Like a besotted adolescent, she’d known the instant he’d arrived by the shiver that had raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Engaged in a spirited debate about the stereotypical views that persisted in discussions on Native American art, Sam had looked up and locked gazes with him. That seemingly endless moment of connection had sent a wave of heat and longing storming through her and she’d promptly forgotten what she was saying.

  In truth, it had lasted only a second before he was swamped like a celebrity, and she’d been left feeling hollow and alone in a roomful of people. A feeling so common that she’d run and hidden. It was mortifying to discover that she was still that insecure little girl desperate to belong. It made her angry and emotionally raw.

  Fine, she admitted, thrusting out her bottom lip and exhaling explosively. It was seeing him surrounded by all those beautiful women that had all her insecurities swamping her. God. She wished she had more experience on how to handle these kinds of situations but she was an emotional coward; preferring to lock down her emotions. And hide.

  Besides, did she go out there and demand to know what he’d meant or pretend that everything was fine? Pretend that seeing Tiffany Travers, legendary man-eater and celebrity tech-heiress, wrapped around him like Christmas ribbon didn’t send shards of hurt and anger ripping through her?

  Or did she—?

  “Darling, what on earth are you doing hiding in here?” Aunt Coco’s voice jolted Sam rudely out of her silent self-debate. “Are you all right?”

  Hastily composing herself, Sam turned with a smile she hoped appeared genuine. “Of course I am,” she assured the older woman. It wouldn’t do to let the other woman know just how ragged her nerves were or worse—why. “Have you seen all those red stickers? I don’t think there’s one item left for sale.”

  “I have and I also know that the caterers are excellent and can handle everything in here,” Coco said. “Now come, everyone’s asking for you.”

  “In a minute,” Sam promised a bit vaguely. “It’s been so insane the past week. I just need a quiet moment.”

  Aunt Coco frowned and after a couple of beats, reached out to cup Sam’s face between her elegant hands. “You look unhappy,” she murmured, studying Sam with gentle intensity that had Sam wishing she were better at hiding her feelings. “You’ve been quiet and withdrawn the last few days. Are you regretting moving here and taking over the foundation?”

  “Oh, no,” Sam hastened to assure the older woman. “Not at all.” That was the one thing she didn’t regret. “I’m enjoying the challenge. It’s much more rewarding than babysitting artwork and I like feeling that I’m helping make a difference.”

  “You are, but I can’t help but think that I’ve made a mess of things by encouraging you to break away from Lilian.”

  “You haven’t,” she insisted firmly, giving Coco a quick hug. Leaving Boston was the best thing she could have done. “And I’m not unhappy. It’s just a headache, that’s all.” Yeah, he was a big headache. Then because she needed to stop thinking about him, she said, “In fact, I’m really glad we’ve had a chance to reconnect. I missed you and grandpa.”

  “And we missed you, darling,” Coco murmured, her green eyes misting with tears. “You are so like him, you know. Sweet and caring and so full of life and vitality. With your gentle nature, we were worried Lilian would crush you.”

  “She nearly succeeded,” Sam muttered, ashamed to recall all the times she’d buckled to her grandmother’s dictates, giving in rather than fighting for her own identity.

  “I couldn’t be happier that you accepted the job. For me, for the foundation and for—Adam.”

  Sam stilled a moment, then returned her attention to arranging canapés, hoping that Aunt Coco bought the casual move, knowing she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Adam?”

  There was a short pause before Coco’s softly chiding voice said, “I know you and I know Adam, sweetheart. Something happened in Juniper Falls that’s making you unhappy.”

  “Nothing happened,” she lied, desperate for it to be true. “And I’m just tired. Really. The past two weeks
have been hectic with all the details for tonight.” She sent Aunt Coco a preoccupied smile she hoped the other woman bought. “I wanted this evening to be a success.”

  “Well, it certainly is that,” Coco said with a chuckle. “In fact, we’re all in agreement that this should become an annual event. With a little more time, I’m positive you could badger even more artists into contributing. You’re doing a wonderful job, just as I predicted. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

  She reached out and hugged Sam. “Oh,” she said archly as she released her. “And just in case you were wondering, Tiffany Travers came with Paul Gilberts and abandoned him the instant she saw Adam arrive alone. She’s been after him since before her divorce.” She paused as though to let her words sink in before continuing. “Are you going to let her get her hooks in your man?”

  Sam’s startled gaze jumped to Coco’s. “He’s n-not mine,” she protested quickly, ignoring the sudden pressure in her chest that felt very much like panic, especially when Coco’s eyebrow arched. “Really, Aunt Coco, nothing happened.” Well, nothing other than a few hot nights of sex—and maybe a looming heartbreak for her.

  Coco cocked her head and studied Sam in a way that made her nervous. Casually turning away from that shrewd glance, she reached for the container of canapés.

  “Does this have something to do with your plan?” Coco demanded, clearly not done.

  “What plan?” she asked absently.

  “That ridiculous life plan you concocted,” Coco said briskly. “The one that stops you from throwing caution to the wind and grabbing life with both hands.”

  “That’s not why—”

  “Adam is not Lawrence,” Coco interrupted smartly, clearly not done having her say. “He would never have a relationship based on lies and deceit. He values family more than anyone I know. He’s fiercely loyal and feels deeply even if he’d like to deny it.” She sighed, cupping Sam’s face. “Oh, darling, that plan isn’t you. What happened to emotion and joy? Whatever happened to spontaneity and taking a risk on life and love?”