by Lori Wilde
Flustered, she tried to move away at the same time he also sidestepped, and they ended up crushing even closer together. Was it her imagination or did he inhale sharply as if injured by contact with her?
Janet didn’t wait around to find out. Head down, she darted into the corridor.
What was happening? Her nice orderly life was falling apart. She’d finally achieved everything she had ever dreamed of and yet, she had never felt more out of control.
Between her mother’s relentless matchmaking, laying down the foundation of her budding career, and being sandwiched into that office with Gage Gregory, how in the world was she going to survive the next seven or eight months?
3
For the past two weeks the tension in the office had been pretty dicey, with Gage trying his damnedest to charm her and Janet doing her level best to resist. A certain spark existed between her and Gage, but it was only physical. And Janet never acted on her physical instincts.
By the time the Friday night charity event, that was doubling as a welcome reception for her and Gage, rolled around, Janet had come to terms with the fact that she found the man attractive.
So what? Big deal. She thought Kit Harrington was hot, and she had a minor crush on Scott Eastwood.
But you don’t share an office with Scott Eastwood or Kit Harrington, impish voice taunted. And Gage is every bit as dishy as those two guys. Come on, admit it, you’d like to take a big ole bite of him.
She’ll admit no such thing! It’s not true. Janet has never given in to your urgings. Thank heavens, rational voice replied.
Half of Saint Madeleine’s Hospital had shown up for the fancy shindig. Janet had been there only twenty minutes and she was ready to leave. Parties had never been her thing. She found them forced and artificial, unless you were tipsy, which she was not. Thankfully, CeeCee and Lacy were also attending.
“So tell us more about the naked guy you found on your terrace.” Red-haired CeeCee, a bubbly physical therapist, was getting married in December to her best friend, Dr. Jack Travis, in a dual wedding ceremony with Lacy and her fiancé, Dr. Bennett Sheridan. “How come sexy things like that never happened to me when I was unattached?”
“You didn’t need a Naked Terrace Guy,” blond, petite Lacy, a scrub nurse at Saint Madeleine’s, quipped. “You had Jack.”
“Yeah.” CeeCee blushed prettily under her freckles. “Jack is worth a thousand Naked Terrace guys.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t the least bit sexy finding a nude man on the patio.”
“Why? Did he look like Quasimodo or something equally grim?” CeeCee grinned.
“Not exactly,” Janet hedged. She usually told her best friends almost everything, but something kept her from revealing the identity of her terrace visitor.
The three of them stood clustered around the canape table. Janet kept surveying the crowd, looking to see who had arrived, but each time the front door opened, it disappointed her. The one person she had hoped to see hadn’t yet shown.
Her father.
Disappointment settled low in her belly. Why did she keep expecting more from him? After thirty years of disappointment, you would think she would learn not to get her hopes up. Determined to keep her mind off unpleasant thoughts, she delicately nibbled a shrimp wrapped in puff pastry and glanced around the room.
A string quartet played on the raised dais. People in formal attire milled around them. Waiters moved through the crowd carrying trays of champagne. A brightly colored banner hanging over the door proclaimed: Welcome to The Group, Gage & Janet.
She should have been enjoying this crowning toast to her achievements. Instead, she was anxious.
Gage stood in one corner, talking to some of the other doctors. Unlike the rest of the men who conservatively dressed in tuxedoes or dark suits, Gage stood out like a glorious gladiola in a field of ragweed. He wore an electric-blue pinstriped suit, a neon-red shirt, and wingtip shoes. He resembled either a twenties gangster or new age pimp, but if anybody could carry off the outlandish getup with style, it was Gage Gregory. Women had been bird-dogging him all evening.
As if she cared.
Now and then he would raise his head, meet her gaze, and wink as if they shared some secret. Which they did not. But what made her feel like a cat running across hot coals was that her mother was busily working the crowd on Janet’s behalf, introducing herself to every eligible bachelor in the place.
Nervously fingering the Saint Jude pin she’d reluctantly worn to please her mother, Janet scanned the room for Gracie and spotted her talking to Max Crispin, the head of radiology.
Max was chronically single, forty, bald as a bumper hitch, and stood maybe five foot six with lifts in his shoes. He was into stamp collecting, worm farming, and playing the piccolo. If Gracie tried to foist him off on her, Janet would have to disown her mother on the spot.
Gracie grabbed Max’s hand and started dragging him through the throng.
“Hide me, quick,” Janet begged her friends. “Mom’s on the warpath, and she’s got Max Crispin in tow.”
Her friends tried to form a human shield around her, but at five foot ten, Janet towered over both of them. She crouched down, ducking behind CeeCee’s shoulders.
“Eek!” Lacy said. “Max is dull as dishwater. Your mom has terrible taste in men.”
“Tell me about it. She married my father, didn’t she?” Janet mumbled and swiveled her head, searching for an escape route. She didn’t have much time. Gracie and Max were rapidly closing in.
CeeCee lifted the corner of floor-length linen cloth covering the canape table. “How about darting under here?”
Janet frowned. Undignified. And what if she got caught? How embarrassing would that be?
“Yoo-hoo, CeeCee, Lacy, have you seen Janet?” her mother called. “I’ve got someone very special for her to meet.”
That settled it. Janet dove under the table, and CeeCee dropped the cloth.
Heedless of her dress, Janet sat on the floor and drew her knees to her chest. She was a doctor, a professional, a mature adult woman, and yet her mother’s obsession with the infernal Baby Predicate had reduced her to cower under tables at swanky events.
“Why me?” she moaned softly under her breath and dropped her head to her knees.
Janet listened as Gracie and Max chatted with Lacy and CeeCee about the intricacies of worm farming.
Go away, Janet mentally willed her mother and Max from the vicinity. Leave on the horse you rode in on. Good night, Irene. So long, Sam. Ba-bye.
More voices joined Gracie, Max, CeeCee, and Lacy. It sounded like Dr. Jackson and some of her other colleagues. Apparently, everyone had gotten hungry at once and descended upon the hors d’oeuvre table.
Peachy, just peachy. She would never get out of here now.
Patent leather shoes poked underneath the table. Someone’s knee made an indention in the tablecloth. Janet edged to the opposite side, desperate to avoid being accidentally kicked and discovered.
“Has anyone seen Janet?” Gracie asked.
“I think she went outside for some fresh air,” someone said.
Someone with a deep, midnight voice.
Gage?
And he was deflecting her mother. Why? Had he seen her duck under the table? Was he trying to help her out?
Worried, Janet gnawed her bottom lip. She hated that he was trying to help her. She didn’t like being beholden to people. Not to any man, and most especially not to Gage.
He was too cheerful. Too laid-back. Too concerned about defenseless baby mockingbirds. Just too darned attractive by far. He made her feel things she’d never felt before. Troubling, distracting things.
And who needed that?
Not her.
Besides, she had to work very closely with the guy. She didn’t fancy owing him any favors.
The voices drifted off. Shoes disappeared. Janet breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps the rush on the canape table was over for the moment.
“Psst,” Janet whispered sof
tly, hoping to get CeeCee’s attention.
No answer.
“Psst.” She tried again.
From the other side of the table, the cloth swayed.
Janet put her mouth to the edge of the tablecloth and whispered, “CeeCee, is the coast clear?”
The cloth flipped up.
A face peered down.
It wasn’t CeeCee.
“Hi.” Gage grinned. “Is this just your play fort or can anyone come in?”
“Uh…uh…” She didn’t know what to say.
Then, to Janet’s complete dismay, he plunked down on the floor, ducked his head, and scooted underneath the table beside her.
“What are you doing?” she snapped.
“Keeping you company. I saw you slip under here, and curiosity got the better of me. I had to find out what was going on.”
He drew his legs up. Both their heads pressed against the top of the table. Their knees touched. His trousers brushed against her legs, sparking a strange electricity.
Disconcerted, Janet shifted away.
“Who are we hiding from?” he whispered, casting exaggerated furtive glances first left then right as if they were spies on a mission.
“Nobody. Now go on. Get out of here. Leave me alone. Scoot,” she hissed.
“Are you always this grouchy?”
“Only when I’m hiding under a table at an event thrown by my new bosses.”
“Is your mom the problem? She’s a real hoot. I met her and some guy named Max Crispin.”
Janet rolled her eyes. “Great.”
“She seems like a very sweet lady.”
“She is sweet, just nuts.”
“I wouldn’t say nuts, exactly. A little too obsessed with your love life, maybe.”
Janet groaned. “She told you about my love life?”
“Or rather your lack of one. But don’t worry. Somehow I already suspected that about you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She frowned. Damn him for looking so adorable. She wanted to dislike him. She really did, but he made it impossible with his knowing grin and that naughty twinkle in his eyes. As a kid, he must have been hell on wheels. She felt sorry for his mother. Undoubtedly, he’d ran the poor woman ragged. And now here he was tormenting her with those manly good looks, his intriguing look-a-me clothing, and that intoxicating cologne.
“All work and no play...”
“Hush up. You know nothing about me.”
“I saw the inside of your condominium, remember. It’s pretty plain and unadorned. Not a lot of domestication going on there.” He nodded, grinning as if he knew all her dirty secrets.
Janet bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from smiling back at him. The last thing he needed was encouragement. Sternly, she pointed a finger. “Out.”
His I-gotta-have-ya grin widened, and he shot her with a dose of those warm puppy-dog eyes. “Come on, Jan-Jan. Don’t be like that.”
“Don’t call me Jan-Jan and I’ve already told you that I’m not interested in being friends.”
“Neither am I.” A suggestive gleam glimmered in his eyes, as provocative as dark hot fudge dribbled over homemade vanilla ice cream.
“I’m not interested in that, either.”
“No wonder your mother worries about you,” he murmured, leaning in close.
“Back off, buster.”
She could feel his warm, minty breath on her skin. It felt nice. Friendly. She didn’t like her response to the disturbing sensation. Her body heated from her toes and spread upward until she felt as if she were sitting in a simmering soup pot.
“You’ve got something on your chin. I was just going to dab it away for you.”
“I clean up my own messes, thank you very much.” She swiped at her chin with the back of a hand.
“No, not there.” He pointed. “A little higher, just below the corner of your mouth.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She scrubbed vigorously at her face. “Is it gone now?”
“Nope. If you’d allow me...”
Then before she could react, he kissed her.
Gage really hadn’t planned on kissing her. At least not here, not yet. Impromptu canoodling had never been his intention when he’d crossed the room to join her underneath the table, but there was something incredibly arousing about hiding with her. As if they were mischievous children sneaking off behind the barn to play doctor.
And there was something erotic about seeing this principled young physician caught in a compromising position.
Over the past two weeks, he had discovered Janet was independent, serious-minded, and dedicated to the point of obsession. She refused to let him help her with anything. No carrying heavy medical equipment for her, no letting him volunteer to see her patients when she felt overloaded, no fetching her a sandwich when she worked through lunch. She insisted on performing every task as if she were being graded on her autonomy. Apparently, she believed she had to do everything for herself or fail miserably, and she got kinda crabby when he suggested otherwise.
Her normal attire reflected her commitment to her work. In the office, she wore crisp, conservative styles. Long skirts, tailored jackets, high-necked blouses, sensible shoes. Nothing revealing, nothing that hinted at the fine body that lay beneath her clothing.
But tonight was different. Tonight she looked more sizzling than Gal Gidot in those I’m-so-hot-for-you-handsome, three-inch black spaghetti-strap stilettos. This softer, sexier side both touched and fascinated him.
He wanted to see more.
Her dark hair, normally pinned up on her head, mused and loose about her shoulders. The dress, a slithery silk number, hugged her curves and called to him like a siren’s song. Her lips, usually lipstick free, painted an enticing shade of red.
Gage knew he had seriously jumped the gun the minute his mouth settled on Janet’s lips. This was not a woman who leaped lightly into romantic adventures.
Not only had he jumped the gun, but he was back to making the same old mistakes. Trying to rescue helpless damsels. Except there was nothing helpless about Dr. Janet Hunter, and she did not need him to rescue her.
He was as nuts as her mother. He was certifiable. Face it, he was being led around by his hormones.
Her lips hardened to cement against his. She didn’t close her eyes. In fact, she was glaring. Those twin indigo orbs drilled holes straight through him.
Gulp. Okay, so it wasn’t the kiss of romantic stories. No pounding hearts, no fireworks, no birds singing, no bells ringing. But that was just because she was stonewalling. The chemistry was there. No denying the furious rush of pleasure surging through his bones.
Stunned by Gage’s impromptu kiss, Janet sat frozen for a moment.
What in the heck was he doing? Did he have any idea the havoc he was causing inside her? She would not respond to his kiss. They were colleagues for crying out loud. They had to work together. Hadn’t she made that clear?
To prevent herself from dissolving into his arms as much as anything else, Janet placed both palms against his chest and shoved.
Gage’s head slapped into the table. “Ow.”
“Get off me,” she whispered and struggled to smooth down her dress, which had somehow ridden halfway up her thighs.
“Listen.” He lightly fingered his tender scalp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you. I don’t know what got into me. Please accept my apology.”
The last thing he wanted was for Janet to think he was the kind of creep who went around pawing women in vulnerable situations. He had done nothing like this. Ever. What was it about her that caused him to lose his cool?
“If you really are sorry, then you’ll go away and leave me in peace.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” He rolled to one side, intending to slide from under the table when a stab of pain shot through his backside.
“Yeow!” he cried out in pain, forgetting for the moment where he was at.
“Shh!” Janet looked app
alled.
Gage reached behind him and pulled something from his flesh. A pin. Saint Jude. Patron saint of lost causes.
“I believe this belongs to you.” He dropped the pin into her palm.
At that moment the tablecloth flipped up, and Gage and Janet stared at Dr. Jackson and a half dozen other people marshaled around the table.
“Dr. Gregory!” Peter exclaimed. “Dr. Hunter! What’s going on here?”
Gage peered up, gave his boss a beatific smile, and lied through his teeth. “Hello, Peter. Janet was just helping me look for my contact lens.”
4
When Janet walked into the office the following Monday morning determined to confront Gage about his behavior at the party on Friday night, she found him playing peek-a-boo with a toothy seven-month-old.
He held his lab jacket up between him and the baby who was sitting in his lap, then pulled the coat down and cried, “a-boo” in a startled voice.
The baby shrieked with laughter.
For no good reason, goose bumps did the cha-cha up Janet’s arm. What would it be like, she wondered, to have a baby as cute as this one? To have a husband who knew how to play peek-a-boo?
Banish the thought! She didn’t want a husband.
Or a baby.
Egads! Gracie was slowly but surely getting to her. She had no time for a husband or babies. Not for years and years to come.
If ever.
And yet she watched him interact with the child, mesmerized. Gage, big and strong and sandy-haired. The baby girl, tiny and sweet with curly raven tresses. The way he held her tucked securely into the crook of his arm made Janet’s heart feel too big for her chest. He dropped a kiss on top of the baby’s head and lightly tickled her belly.
Her own father had never played with her like this. She wasn’t really sure men did that sort of thing. Especially with children who weren’t even theirs.
“Who’s your friend?” Janet asked casually, struggling to deny the unexpected feelings churning inside her. She dropped her purse and medical bag onto her desk.
“This is Miranda.” Gage circled the baby’s tiny wrist with a thumb and forefinger and waved at Janet. “Say hi to Dr. Hunter, Miranda.”
