by Lucy Ryder
A shiver skated across her skin at the thought and she quickly looked away before he realized she’d just pictured him naked. He made a low, rough sound in the back of his throat and when she gave in to the need to look she saw he was studying her with that deeply intense gaze that seemed to see everything.
He inclined his head at the box, his eyes and his wicked grin daring her to give in to temptation.
She’d never been able to resist a challenge and, staring into his moss-green eyes, Dani felt tempted. Really tempted. For about a nanosecond. Because she had a feeling this sexy dare went beyond donuts and into the realms of her man embargo. No matter what she’d told Amy, she wasn’t nearly ready to date and had a sneaky feeling she wouldn’t ever be ready for a man like him.
He was too masculine, too sexy, too Alpha... Well, frankly he was too everything. All the things that hit her every button...including her inner alarm.
Dragging her eyes away from the open box, she scowled. “I’m abstaining, remember?”
Hitching one shoulder, as though her resistance didn’t bother him, he leaned forward and selected a chocolate cream ganache-glazed donut. And then, with his gaze on hers, he said casually, “I thought that was just from anything with a Y-chromosome,” before sinking strong white teeth into the fried dough.
Her belly quivered and her tongue emerged to swipe across her bottom lip as she imagined licking glaze—Oh God—and chocolate cream off his lips.
She must have made a sound, because his eyes darkened and dropped to her mouth.
“No,” she said a little primly, even as she squirmed on the seat, feeling turned on and jealous of a greasy pillow of fried dough. Sheesh. She clearly needed to date more if the sight of a guy enjoying a donut was making her both resentful of the attention he was giving it as well as aroused. “From everything that’s bad for me.”
He chuckled and nudged the box closer. “C’mon, live a little. You need to stabilize your blood sugar and...” He paused, looking far too innocent. “Isn’t it your duty as a healthcare professional to think about my arteries by taking one or two off my hands?”
No looking at his hands, Dani ordered herself, and then promptly did...and shivered as she recalled how those broad-palmed, long-fingered hands had felt rubbing away her tension.
“Why?” she demanded skeptically. “Afraid they’ll go straight to your butt and you’ll have to buy new jeans?”
His gaze dropped to her front, as though he could see through the table and she barely restrained herself from squirming. His amused snort said he thought she was joking when she’d been serious as a heart attack.
“No,” he drawled softly, his mouth curving wickedly as though he’d been thinking of her bottom. “And neither should you.”
His eyes dared her, and one arched brow accused her of being a wimp. She returned it with a glare, secretly pleased that he thought she didn’t need to worry about getting a big butt.
“So,” she said, lifting her cup to blow on the hot liquid. “You want me to what...? Stay and help you empty the box?”
A self-deprecating smile tugged at his mouth. “I’ll settle for feeding you before you pass out on me again. Not,” he said, with a chuckle at her quick scowl, “that I object to getting my hands on you again but let’s just say I find myself wanting to change your mind.”
Ignoring the first part of his statement, she took a sip of latte to give herself a moment. “About...?”
His smirk grew. “You know what.”
Dani’s face bloomed with color as his meaning sank in. “I...um... I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen,” she announced, rolling her eyes when he snorted.
Sheesh. Time to move the conversation into non-embarrassing territory.
“So...um...how’s Timothy doing?”
He leaned back in the chair, looking relaxed and far too attractive so early in the morning—especially with her looking like week-old roadkill. His expression turned chiding and he looked just a little amused at her avoidance of a little harmless flirting.
“Remarkably well,” he drawled. “Which you know since you visited him last night and then again this morning.”
She frowned at this news that he was keeping tabs on her but decided not to think about what it might mean. A smile bloomed at the memory of the little boy, almost bouncing off the walls with impatience. It was hard to believe he’d been at death’s door just a couple days before.
“I did.” She chuckled. “He wanted to know when Dr. Dylan was visiting, because apparently you’d promised to play catch with him.”
“He’s a cute kid,” he said, his eyes taking on a little gleam she wanted to ignore. “And you’re dodging the issue.”
“What issue?” she asked politely, pretending to be clueless.
With a low laugh he shook his head at her and pushed the box closer. He took another bite of the donut he was still holding. “Go on,” he urged, in a voice that was deep and sinful enough to tempt a nun to the dark side. “You know you want to.”
And when she made a little distressed sound in the back of her throat because she was tempted—way too much and not just by the allure of fried dough—he snickered. The jerk.
“A little trans fat and a few empty calories once in a while won’t hurt.”
“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But one always leads to two, and before you know it you’ve eaten the entire box and have to take up jogging to minimize the damage to your arteries...among other things.”
“Are we talking about donuts or...?”
Her belly quivered at his implication but she ruthlessly squelched it. There would be no quivering. Not for him or anyone else. At least not until she had her life firmly in order.
“Yep,” she said, making the p pop audibly. “Definitely donuts.”
He chuckled, and with his eyes on hers stretched out his arm to hold the chocolate cream donut he’d just taken a bite of to her lips. “Why don’t we share? That way you won’t have to feel guilty.”
And suddenly Dani wanted to step outside her safe, peaceful world. Just once, she told the voice in her head. Just once and then she’d go back to ignoring the way he made all the lonely little places inside her shiver with excitement.
Unable to look away, she leaned forward to sink her teeth into the sugary treat, very carefully avoiding taking a bite out of his finger too—which she was totally tempted to do.
Her taste buds instantly exploded and a vicious little tug deep in her belly drew her breasts tight, as though they were connected by some invisible thread. She must have made a sound, because his gaze rose slowly to hers, leaving a trail of fire streaking across her skin. The heat burning in the green depths had the breath backing up in her lungs.
She froze, her eyes widening. Holy cow. Whoever had said green eyes were hard and cold had never seen them catch fire. Her heart stuttered to a stop, because although she might not have seen it in a while there was no mistaking that look. The fact that it was focused on her had wild heat storming into her face.
Oh, no. No, no, no, she ordered herself frantically. No belly-clenching, knee-wobbling or heart-stuttering allowed. And if the alarming symptoms continued she’d head right back to the ER to order a full blood work-up...or maybe a neurological one.
She was far too smart to develop a...a thing—she wasn’t going to call it an attraction—for Dylan St. James.
Wasn’t she?
* * *
Without realizing he needed to, Dylan reached for her hand—and knew instantly that he’d made a tactical error when a jolt shot up his arm with a nasty little buzz. She must have felt it too, because her eyes widened and she gave a gasp of surprise.
Very interesting, he thought, narrowing his gaze on her startled expression. He’d heard about it, of course, but he’d never actually believed it existed. Nor had he ever experienced that sharp little zap of s
exual heat.
Given the little bobble of shock that had nearly splashed hot liquid over the rim of her disposable cup, it appeared that neither had Danielle Stevens.
Eyes wide, wild color rushing beneath that soft skin, she jerked her hand free and quickly shoved it beneath the table to rub it against her thigh. Enjoying the sensations that little jolt had sent shooting up his arm, Dylan watched her struggle for composure, watched those wild fluctuations of color beneath her creamy skin.
Needing to put her at ease, he drew in a deep breath. “Danielle...” he began, pausing when she abruptly slapped her coffee cup onto the table and shoved back her chair.
“I...uh...oh, gosh, look at the time,” she babbled, grabbing her shoulder bag as she lurched to her feet, almost toppling the chair in her haste.
He reached out to grab it before it crashed onto the floor and rose to his feet. She took a hasty step backwards, babbling out a garbled apology when she bumped into the table behind her.
“Look, don’t g-get up,” she stammered breathlessly as she edged away. “Enjoy your coffee and...and, thanks.”
He started to follow her but she gave a little squeak of distress then turned and fled, leaving Dylan to watch in stunned surprise as she lurched her way between the tables to the door.
With a muttered and completely baffled curse, he followed. What the heck had he done to upset her? And she clearly was upset, because a woman didn’t practically fall over herself trying to get away from a man for no reason.
He caught up with her a half-block from the coffee shop and grabbed her arm. “Dr. Stevens, wait—”
Wide-eyed, she spun around, wrapping her arms around her chest and curling her hands over her opposite elbows as though to protect herself from him. She was practically vibrating with tension.
Easily reading the wariness in her huge gray eyes, he slowly released her to shove his hands into his pockets. The last thing he wanted was to upset her—especially when his instincts were yelling at him to pull her close and not let go. He didn’t think that would go down well.
“Hey...hey...” he crooned softly, cursing the caution in her storm-colored eyes and his own suddenly violent need. “It’s okay.” He gave her a crooked smile, hoping to draw one from her. “You can trust me. I’m a doctor.”
The words had the desired effect, and with a muffled giggle she relaxed her shoulders. She drew in a deep breath and he watched her struggle to compose herself. He had to admire her grit, he told himself, because it was obvious that whatever—or whoever—had hurt her, they had done a really good job.
He hated thinking that some man had put his hands on her in anger but that was what all those little tells indicated. He’d grown up to respect women—his mother wouldn’t have had it any other way—and to abhor bullies. A man who used physical violence on a woman or a child didn’t deserve to be called a man.
“If that’s the best you can do, Dr. St. James,” she drawled, shoving her hair off her face with a hand that trembled, “I’m going to start questioning the rumors about your supposed reputation as a playboy.”
“What have I told you about listening to gossip, Danielle?” he chided gently, relief settling around him like a sigh when she rolled her eyes. And when her mouth curved into a tiny smile, lighting those mysterious eyes, he felt as if he’d won a huge victory.
“Dani.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“It’s Dani. With an i.”
He took in the perfect oval of her face, the gray eyes, wide and heavily lashed beneath the elegant arch of her brows, the smooth curve of her cheek, the delicate nose and wide mobile mouth with its longer upper lip and pillow-soft bottom lip.
Dani sounded too masculine—too androgynous—he decided, for such a feminine face.
“Danielle suits you better,” he announced, enjoying the way her creamy skin took on a rosy hue, as though she wasn’t used to compliments.
“It does not,” she countered, with a spluttered laugh. “Danielle evokes images of a tall, elegantly sophisticated French woman draped in silk and reeking of expensive perfume. So not me.”
“Oh, I don’t know...” he mused, casually nudging her behind a large pillar out of pedestrian traffic. “I kind of think it suits you.”
He found himself needing to touch her but was hesitant about spooking her into bolting again. Testing the waters, he reached out to tug at an errant curl lying against her pale neck and was pleased to note that, other than a quick shiver, she didn’t retreat.
“Yeah, right,” she snorted, looking down at her attire. “Nothing says sophisticated elegance more eloquently than stained scrubs and battered running shoes.” She lifted her head and arched her brow, still looking more like a Danielle than a Dani. “Be careful, Dr. St. James,” she warned lightly. “Or people might think you’ve lost your touch.”
Lost his mind, more likely, he thought with an inner chuckle. Out loud, he said, “Spend the day with me.”
“Yes... No... I... What?”
She gaped at him as though he’d suggested something indecent, when the truth was he wasn’t ready to let her go. Wasn’t ready for her to disappear on him again; leave him fighting that baffling desire to pull her close and kiss her senseless.
He moved a fraction closer and dropped his voice. “Spend the day with me, Dani with an i,” he murmured. “I promise to feed you something that won’t stain your scrubs or end up on your thighs.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dr. St. James, I—”
Her eyes clouded and he watched her inner struggle.
Just when he thought she’d accept, she gave a quick head-shake and said regretfully, “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have plans for the weekend.”
He was surprised by the strength of his disappointment. “Rain check?”
Looking undecided, she nibbled on her lip before lifting soft gray eyes to his. “Um...sure,” she murmured. She turned away. Then, spinning around quickly, she said a little breathlessly, “And thanks.”
Rocking back on his heels, Dylan folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head to one side. “For what?”
He liked that endearing confusion on her much more than the guarded look or the haunted expression she sometimes wore when she didn’t think anyone was paying attention. And he wanted to, Dylan admitted with surprise. He wanted to pay attention to her. Wanted to watch her eyes darken, to catch the quick sexy hitch of her breath, the husky laugh that burst out of her almost as though that small bubble of humor couldn’t be contained. And he wanted to pay more than a little attention to that soft, full unpainted mouth.
It was as though she could read his thoughts. Her gaze flittered away from his before sliding back. A faint blush stained the high, elegant cheekbones. “For rescuing me.” She laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Again.”
“Any time.”
She took another step backward and halted, shifting awkwardly. Dylan couldn’t help feeling smug that she was just as confused as he was by whatever it was growing between them, even if she was fighting it tooth and nail.
She fiddled with the strap of her shoulder bag and turned away, nearly colliding with a couple strolling along the sidewalk toward them. “Oops, sorry...” she said, blowing out a shaky huff of laughter. “So, I’ll see you around?”
He nodded and watched her nibble on that full bottom lip, wanting her to stay so badly he could taste it—wanting to test how that lip felt against his; wanting to make it soften and open even as all those sweet curves softened against him.
“You know where to find me,” he called out, watching the impatient twitch of her hips as she hurried off.
He didn’t know how long he stood there with a loopy grin on his face, staring at the last place he’d seen her, until an elderly couple paused with looks of concern on their lined faces.
“You okay there, son?” the old man asked wh
en Dylan blinked them into focus.
He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck and wondered what the heck had just happened. He felt...poleaxed.
“Yeah,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders to dispel the notion that he should have tried a little harder to convince her to spend the day with him. “It’s...a woman.”
“It always is.” The septuagenarian nodded sagely. “The secret is not to try to understand them.” He chuckled when his wife nudged him with her elbow. “It’ll just drive you crazy.”
With a wink at Dylan, the old guy moved off with his wife, leaving him to watch as he laughed and lifted their clasped hands to his lips for a sweet kiss.
Yeah. He wanted that. What they had. What his parents and grandparents had. The trick was to find the right woman. One who wanted him and not his family’s money. One who wouldn’t drive him crazy with the conflicting messages she sent out. Not one whose body language said one thing and whose eyes couldn’t decide what they were saying.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Dylan dug his hand in his pocket for his keys and headed for his Jeep, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him he was already crazy.
Crazy about a sweet little mess with big stormy eyes and a sexy smile. One who made him want to drag her into his cave and slay all her dragons. Crazy enough to want to change her mind about falling off the wagon with him.
And if that wasn’t crazy enough, he thought with a shaky laugh, Dylan St. James—hotshot surgeon and heir to the St. James fortune—was feeling like a pimply-faced nerd with his first crush.
CHAPTER FIVE
A WEEK LATER Dani was awakened by the raucous sound of squabbling seagulls. Muttering about the ungodly hour on her first weekend off in over a month, she slapped a pillow over her head, determined to go back to sleep.
Five minutes later, however, she flung the pillow aside and rolled over to scowl at the ceiling. Dammit. Now that she was awake she’d never be able to go back to sleep. Certainly not with that racket on her deck.
