Make Me Love You: An Older Man Younger Woman Steamy Doctor Romance

by Adele Hart

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Also by Adele Hart

  Foreword

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Slow, Hard Puck Sneak Peek

  My Toy Boy-Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Make Me Love You

  Adele Hart

  Copyright © 2017 by Adele Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Also by Adele Hart

  Foreword

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Epilogue

  Slow, Hard Puck Sneak Peek

  My Toy Boy-Sneak Peek

  Also by Adele Hart

  About the Author

  Also by Adele Hart

  Alphas and Virgins Titles

  Thrill Me

  Tempt Me

  Take Me

  Choose Me

  Kiss Me

  Devour Me

  Make Me Titles

  Make Me Yours

  Make Me Crazy

  Make Me Wet

  Make Me Wild

  Make Me Happy

  Make Me Love You

  High Stakes and Hot Heroes Titles

  My Toy Boy

  My Cocky Cowboy

  Bad Boys and Good Girls

  Slow, Hard Puck

  Boxsets

  Alphas and Virgins Volume One

  Alphas and Virgins Volume Two

  Make Me Volume One

  Foreword

  Hey Girl,

  Have you ever dreamed about living on a tropical island in the Caribbean? I have once or twice. Well, actually, pretty much every day in the winter, especially when I’m doing carpool on icy roads. But I digress…

  The sun, the sand, the sounds of the ocean tide, the men without shirts...oh, yeah.

  While we’re fantasizing, let’s throw in a super-hot, very built ER doctor who loves to read (without his shirt on), sail (without his shirt on), and scuba dive (let’s let him wear his wetsuit in our fantasy because, hell, that’s hot, too, and we don’t want the poor guy to get stung by a jellyfish).

  So, are you there with me yet? If so, you’re ready to meet Ben Stone, whose entire body is hard as stone. Except for his warm heart.

  Peace out,

  Adele

  (Drops mic with a dreamy sigh and goes in search of a sweet tea to cool her down.)

  One

  Lila

  I’m in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the winter wind howl against my window. I have no idea what day it is and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t seem to care about anything lately. Since Trey used me like a trash bag, then dumped me, I’ve been in a total funk. It’s not just the fact that he dumped me, but it’s how he did it that really hurt.

  We work together at New Style magazine, the number three fashion mag in the US. I’m a copy editor, meaning I fix other people’s typos for a living while I wait for a chance to be a real journalist, and Trey got hired six months ago as a photographer’s assistant. I’m pretty sure the fact that he’s so gorgeous that he could be in the ads didn’t hurt his chances at the interview.

  After all, it takes a lot of confidence to work with supermodels all day, and Trey has confidence in spades. Unlike me, who they keep tucked in the back corner of the bullpen with all the other mortals. That’s what we call ourselves. There are mortals and models, and with these childbearing hips and my round, soft face, I’m definitely a mortal.

  I should have known better than to try for Trey. I really, really should have. People like him aren’t meant to be with people like me. He’s one of the beautiful people—tall, handsome, well-built and very confident. But, he seemed to like me anyway, so I decide to take a chance. I thought that if he could like me then maybe, just maybe, I could be one of the special people.

  We dated for over six weeks before I finally let my guard down enough to sleep with him. It took four glasses of red wine to feel comfortable enough to let him see me naked. He shut the lights off ‘to make me feel more comfortable.’ The whole thing lasted about four minutes total, then he immediately got up out of his bed, pulled his jeans back on and said, “You should probably go.”

  I couldn’t comprehend his words. “What?”

  Trey sighed. “Listen. I should never have let things get this far. I’m really sorry, but I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

  I can still feel that dizziness—the way the world was spinning out of control as my heart sunk into my belly. I felt completely worthless—a feeling I had been battling with for as long as I can recall. I’ve never been what you’d call a small girl, not even when I was in grade school, a fact that none of the other kids let me forget. I hoped things would be different once I grew up but the truth is, the world will never change.

  My biggest mistake was to follow my dream to work for a fashion magazine. I should have known I’d never fit in there. Curvy girls aren't exactly welcome in this industry, even if they're nowhere near the business end of a camera lens. I got used to either being invisible or being the butt of plus-sized jokes, so when Trey suddenly showed an interest, I fell for him, hook, line and sinker.

  “Why did you ask me out if you didn’t like me?”

  “I don’t know. I read somewhere that fat girls make a better lay, but…” The look of disgust on his face will forever be etched in my brain. “I’m sorry. You’re a nice girl and all, but you didn’t really think someone like me would ever end up with someone like you, did you?”

  Those were the words that crushed me. I picked up my clothes, too broken to slap him on his chiseled face or to call him a bastard. Too broken to do anything, but walk out of his apartment in tears.

  Now, as I drag my butt out of bed, I try to erase my memory of him so I can face another day at work. The subway is crowded as it is every morning. Filled with suits and high heels and real New Yorkers who belong in Manhattan. I grew up in a suburb of Chicago, somewhere small and safe (well, for the most part), and where high fashion was a buy-one-get-one-half-off sale at the Burlington Coat Factory.

  An icy wind greets me as I make my way up the last few steps to the sidewalk from the tunnel. I put my head down and blow hot air into my wool mitts, trying to keep my face warm. When I arrive at the office, I peel off my winter coat and wool hat on my way to the elevator. My heart sinks more every time the elevator dings to indicate we’re almost on the thirty-fourth floor. When I get there, I walk straight to my desk, pretending to text someone so I can avoid eye contact with my coworkers. They all know what happened and even though it was three weeks ago and my best friend, Gina, keeps assuring me that everyone will have forgotten by now, my cheeks still get hot with embarrassment whenever I walk into the building.

  I get through the morning without anyone talking to me, which suits me just fine. I eat lunch at my desk, looking for any openings for writers or editors at another magazine. Nothing again today, of cou
rse. An ad for a last-minute deal to St. Lucia catches my eye.

  Escape today to paradise for only $299.

  Without thinking about it, I click on the ad.

  I have a week of vacation time that I haven’t taken and I may have just found a place to spend it. I grab my cell out of my purse and text Gina. “What are the chances you can get a week off?”

  Two

  Ben

  “Catch you later, Catalina.”

  “See you, Dr. Handsome. Enjoy your days off.” Catalina, the head nurse in the ER and grandmother of eight, grins up at me from behind a stack of papers.

  “Dr. Stone,” I remind her. “Or how about Ben? What if you just agree to call me Ben?”

  “It’s either Handsome or McDreamy. Take your pick.” She puts one fist on her hip and stares at me over the top of her bifocals like she means business.

  “This is bordering on sexual harassment, Catalina. I may have to report you.” The look on my face tells her I’m kidding.

  “You’re forgetting you aren’t in the United States anymore. This is St. Lucia, where love rules the island.”

  “Can’t argue with that logic,” I say, rapping my knuckles on the reception desk as I walk by.

  “Now, get going so the other girls and I can stare at your very fine ass.”

  I laugh, waving over my shoulder as the doors slide open and I step outside. I find my Jeep exactly where I left it over sixteen hours ago. I’m still in my scrubs, too tired to bother to change before I go home to shower and drop into bed. The heat still clings to the air even though it’s dark out and I smile, glad that I decided to make the move to the Caribbean three years ago. Back home in Boston, it’s only ten degrees today. I checked the forecast on my lunch break, a little habit that makes me grin every time.

  But even in the Caribbean, a guy needs a break once in a while. I look at myself in my rearview mirror only to see stress written all over my face. I’m only thirty-six, but I look much older tonight. The past few weeks, I’ve barely had any sleep. But I’m used to living on no sleep—the hospital is understaffed and it's high tourist season which means the emergency room fills up with tourists suffering from sunstroke or alcohol poisoning every day.

  I start up the Jeep, unroll the windows, and make the ten-minute drive to my beach house. Instead of feeling content when I arrive at home like I usually do, I feel like something’s missing. I have a long shower and a cold beer, then sit on my deck listening to the waves roll in, waiting for sleepiness to set in. I’m restless in the same way I was before I moved to St. Lucia and I can’t put my finger on why. I stare at the moon for a while and suddenly the thought occurs to me that it would be nice to come home and see the lights on and find someone warm and loving waiting for me. As I walk into the house and make my way to bed, I wonder if perhaps that someone might be on her way soon.

  Three

  Lila

  Gina and I exit the airport, dragging our suitcases behind us. I adjust my small purse, which is slung across my chest, feeling the humidity and heat surround me. I inhale deeply, excitement filling my body.

  “Welcome to paradise.” A deep voice stops Gina and me in our tracks. We turn to see a tall, older man leaning against a yellow cab. “Where to, ladies?”

  Looking at the travel itinerary, I struggle to pronounce the name of the hotel, wishing I had paid more attention in Spanish class. “E-l Ho-tel de la Pu, Pu, Pu-es…”

  “El Hotel de la Puesta del Sol?”

  “That’s the one.” I nod, feeling a little out of my element.

  As the cab zips down the freeway toward the hotel district, Gina and I take turns grinning at each other and staring out the open windows at the sights. Every now and then, the crystal blue ocean comes into view and I feel my real life disappearing into the breeze.

  “I have a feeling this trip is going to be very good for you.” Gina bumps my shoulder with hers. “I’m so getting you laid. Properly this time. By a guy who isn’t a waste of oxygen.”

  “No, thank you. No men for me. Just sun, surf, and sangria.” I use my most firm tone even though I know it will have no effect on her whatsoever.

  “Oh, I’m getting you laid, or I’ll die trying.”

  I’m about to protest when the car slows and pulls into a long driveway leading to our resort. “Holy crap. This place is huge.”

  “And fabulous,” Gina says, staring at a group of men without shirts. “I think you may have picked the best resort on the island.”

  An hour later, we’ve checked in and gotten settled into our room. It doesn’t have the view of the ocean I was hoping for but instead overlooks the ‘garden,’ which is really a nice way to say that they’ve planted some shrubs to hide the garbage cans.

  “Well, for $299 for the week, I guess we can’t expect the best view,” Gina says, shrugging as she shuts the curtains. “Let’s go get wasted.”

  We get into our swimsuits and I throw on a knee-length, light blue coverup with a hood. Gina, however, is in the tiniest bikini that barely contains her ample bosoms. She’s got the deepest spray tan you can get at Glowtan and her teeth gleam white against her slightly orange skin.

  “What on earth are you wearing?” she asks, wrinkling up her nose at me.

  “A coverup. I’m not going to prance around the resort in a bikini.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because I’m not exactly bikini-ready and I never will be.” I toss my sunscreen and my Kindle into my beach bag.

  When I look up at Gina, she’s shaking her head at me. “Lila, you seriously need to start loving what you’ve got going there. You’re really pretty and you’ve got some kickass curves. Own ‘em, girl.”

  I roll my eyes and open the door. “You own yours, I’ll hide mine, and together we’ll be like a woman with a healthy confidence level.”

  Gina follows me out the door, saying, “I'm fine. You, however, need to work on feeling good about yourself. But don't worry, by the time we leave here, I’m going to have you strutting your stuff.”

  “I’m not interested in strutting. I want to read by the pool, suck back some neon-colored drinks with umbrellas poking out of them, and eat lots of desserts.”

  So, reading by the pool isn’t exactly in the cards for me. Turns out, this is a total party resort, which means there’s a DJ pumping out tunes so loud that the empty lounge chairs are vibrating their way across the pool deck. Not that there are many empty ones. We manage to find two side-by-side and I get myself set up while Gina hops into the pool and makes her way over to the swim-up bar for drinks. The late-day heat is seriously intense, so I put on my oversized straw hat and start slathering on the 50 SPF sunblock. No burns for this girl. By the time I’m settled on the chair, Gina is back with four drinks and a hot guy who is carrying them for her.

  She waggles her eyebrows at me and shouts over the music. “This is Bryan.”

  “Ryan,” he corrects her.

  “Right. He invited us to a party down at the beach bar tonight.”

  I smile at Ryan. “Thanks. That sounds fun,” I holler. “Is there a quiet pool at the resort, by chance? I'm trying to read.”

  He gives me a look of confusion. “What?”

  “Nothing!” Gina shouts, handing me a bright blue drink. “She’s just kidding around.”

  I have a long sip, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat. Before I know it, the whole drink is gone and I lean back in the lounge chair, feeling a lot more relaxed about being here. Gina and Ryan go for a dip and it only takes about five minutes for flirting in the water to turn to a full-on make-out session. I grab the next drink and suck it back, trying not to notice the show they’re putting on. I wonder if I could ever be as free as Gina. To just go for it like that in a pool surrounded by hundreds of people.

  An hour later, Gina is gone. She left with Ryan so he could ‘show her something’ in his room. I'm pretty sure what he's going to show her rhymes with the word 'block.' I’ve polished off all four of the fruity dri
nks and am now very drunk. I’m also very hungry and would give my left ovary for a big plate of French fries right now. I collect my things and start across the wet pool deck and down the tile stairs toward the beach hut restaurant. My foot slips out from under me and I fall down the three steps and into the sand, twisting my ankle and screeching like a parrot.

  When I try to stand, my ankle gives out and I land on my butt. If I weren’t so tipsy, I’d be totally embarrassed right now. A waitress spots me from the restaurant and hurries over to help. “Are you okay, Miss? That looked like a bad fall.”

  “It was. It really hurts.” I touch my ankle, then wince as pain shoots through my leg.

  “I’ll call for help. We can arrange to take you to the hospital to get that looked at.”

  Oh great. My first day of my first vacation since I was a child and I’m about to spend it in the ER. I thank her for her help and when she walks away, I let my shoulders drop and wish I had never heard of St. Lucia.

  Four

  Ben

  “Dr. Handsome! What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be in until Friday.” Catalina gives me a wide smile. “Not that I’m complaining…”

  I roll my eyes. “Peter called in sick so here I am.”

  “Oh, that must mean he found another tourist to bone.”