The Hotshot

by Lori Wilde

  She could definitely do worse. Like getting hooked up with Oscar and enduring a running lecture on the evils of flabby thighs.

  But Gage is also your colleague, her ever-present rational voice crowded out the impish one. This could be very dangerous indeed.

  Especially since Gracie had a dreamy, gooey-eyed, grandbaby-on-the-way expression on her face.

  She should say something, put a stop to this nonsense before it really got out of hand. “Listen, Mother...”

  Then before she could complete the sentence, Gracie leaned over to hug her, gently kissed Janet’s cheek and murmured, “Darling, you’ve made me the happiest mother in the entire world.”

  Oh, cripes. What could she say to that?

  “Mother,” she whispered, appalled at her own lack of courage, “it’s not as if we’re getting married or anything like that.”

  “Maybe not yet. But a mother can hope, can’t she?” Gracie gave her attention to Gage. “Can you come to dinner on Saturday at my house? If you don’t have to work that is. Say one o’clock.”

  “Neither of us are on call this weekend, and yes, I’m honored to come to dinner.” He nodded.

  “And if she’s good, you can bring her along with you.” Gracie jerked a thumb at Janet.

  Great. Now these two were bosom buddies. Her worst nightmare come to pass.

  “We’ll be there.” Gage pulled Janet close against his side. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Janet glared at him. Oh, he was going to pay for this.

  “I better go break the news to Oscar that you’re not interested. I wonder if this means he’s going to charge me his hourly rate for dragging him over here on a wild-goose chase,” Gracie mused.

  “If he does, I’ll pay his fee,” Gage gallantly offered.

  “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?” Gracie pinched one of his cheeks. “Where have you been all her life?”

  “Floundering helplessly.” He winked.

  Janet rolled her eyes.

  They were nuts. Both of them.

  “And I can’t wait to tell your Aunt Rhonda the wonderful news, and Nadine and that snotty Mrs. Tattersol who bet me twenty bucks that you would never find anyone to marry you. I’m going to make her pay up.”

  “Wait a minute. Hold it. Stop right there.”

  Janet felt the color drain from her face. Even though Gage had made his declaration at a diner frequented by hospital staff, it had been too noisy for anyone to overhear their conversation. But Gracie and Mrs. Tattersol were both hospital volunteers. If her mother told the other lady about Gage and her, then it would only be a matter of time before the whole ridiculous story was rampaging throughout Saint Madeleine’s grapevine. The last thing she needed was for anyone at the Blanton Street Group to believe she and Gage were going out.

  Gracie blinked. “Why, what’s wrong, dear?”

  “You can’t tell anyone that Gage and I are... er... dating.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s an office romance,” Gage interjected.

  “Oh.” Gracie lowered her voice. “I see. You haven’t told your colleagues yet.”

  “That’s right.” Janet laid a finger against her lips. “Shhh. Mum’s the word.”

  “Damn. Can I at least tell Nadine?”

  “No one.” Janet frowned.

  “All right,” Gracie sighed. “But you’ll let me know as soon as I can tell my friends.”

  “Mom, this whole thing between Gage and me is so new. Please don’t get your hopes up.” She flashed Gage a dirty look. He had started this whole fiasco. “It probably won’t last a week.”

  Gage arched one eyebrow, pursed his lips, and pretended to look offended. “Honey, say you don’t mean it.”

  “Fiddlesticks.” Gracie shook her head vehemently. “This man’s your soul mate. Anyone can see that.”

  Janet groaned inwardly. “Please promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  Gracie said nothing.

  “Mother.”

  “Oh, all right. I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I best be on my way.” Gracie waved. “Ta-ta for now and I’ll see you both on Saturday.”

  The minute her mother disappeared, Janet shook off Gage’s arm and turned in the booth to face him eye to eye.

  “Excuse me, but what was that all about?”

  He shrugged and had the moral sense to look embarrassed. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I know I was out of line, but I thought I was helping.”

  “Helping? You call that helping? Sheesh, you have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Within days my mother will consult a wedding planner. She’ll do online research and send us travel websites on honeymoon destinations. She’ll start thinking up baby names. She’ll invite us to dinner every weekend, just you wait and see. She’ll start asking you to fix things around the house. She’ll want to meet your family.” Janet smacked her forehead with an open palm. “It’s going to be a disaster.”

  He smiled indulgently. “Surely you’re exaggerating.”

  “Surely you’re clueless about her grandmotherly biological clock.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself? Because of you, I just told a whopper to my mother. And I am not in the habit of telling lies, Dr. Gregory.”

  “Gage,” he corrected in that oh-so-smooth voice of his. “And it doesn’t have to be a lie.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and inched away from him, trying to erect some kind of barrier between them. Suddenly the crowded restaurant was too small, too intimate. He was sitting too close. He was just too darned distracting by far.

  “We could date each other exclusively. Go out a few times. Catch a movie. Have dinner. Would that be so awful?”

  She shook her head. “No way. We can’t date. It’s unprofessional, and I don’t even like you!”

  “Oops! Better watch it, you’re lying again.” He gave her that loopy boyish grin that she imagined dissolved most women into pools of melted butter.

  But not her. She refused to let him affect her.

  “I’m not lying. I don’t like you. You’re egotistical and high-handed and...and...” At a loss for words, she inhaled sharply.

  He scooted across the seat toward her, quickly closing the distance she’d eked out. They were almost nose to nose.

  “And when you’ve got that little glare thing going on—flashing your eyes fiercely and crinkling your nose—you’re too cute for words.”

  “Cute? Cute?” Janet sputtered.

  She was five foot ten in her stocking feet and weighed a hundred and forty-five pounds. No tiny thing. No shrinking violet. She was a doctor, a respected professional. No one ever called her cute. Striking? Yes. Commanding? Many times. But cute? Never.

  “Uh-huh,” Gage murmured, leaning closer still until she teetered on the edge of the booth, millimeters from tumbling onto the floor. He repeated the word “cute” like he was dropping the gauntlet and just daring her to contradict him.

  Damn, why did it have to feel so nice for him to call her cute?

  The next thing she knew, he had his arm around her shoulders again. “If we’re going to be dating exclusively, then you’re going to have to admit you like me. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I don’t like you,” she insisted again through clenched teeth, but she couldn’t stop looking at his lips, which hovered above hers.

  “You do like me,” he said. “And I’m going to prove it.”

  She knew what was coming. Rational voice screamed for her to pull away, to tell him off but good. But self-indulgent impish voice, the voice she had pretty well ignored for the past thirty years, was murmuring something very different.

  Go ahead. Live a little. Let him kiss you.

  Gage lowered his head, his eyes turned murky with desire.

  Stop
! good old rational voice roared.

  Go, bad new impish voice whispered, softer still.

  Since when did a whisper trump a roar?

  Since now. Ever since she’d met Gage, impish voice had been popping out of her mental box far too often. It was a little scary knowing she had this impulsive, wild side that was aching to break free from the constraints of convention.

  Rational voice’s bluster collapsed like a house of cards, surrendering helplessly to the undercurrent of impish voice gently urging her into Gage’s arms.

  Janet whimpered. Helplessly, her lips parted, encouraging the kiss through no conscious fault of her own. It was all impish voice’s doing.

  His mouth glided over hers, slowly, sweetly, seductively. Like water drops and honey and the finest Oriental silk. He deepened the kiss, tentatively exploring her mouth.

  Her stomach flipped. Her knees turned to soup. She felt as if she were falling helplessly into serious lust.

  His tongue set her ablaze, sliding, slipping, shifting. Pressure and heat. Tension and fire. Rousing, enticing, exciting.

  He was kissing her. Thoroughly, completely. In the middle of a crowded restaurant not two blocks from the office.

  Onlookers snickered.

  Someone murmured, “Ahh, ain’t love grand.” But they were wrong, this wasn’t love. This was...what?

  Nothing but a silly kiss.

  No big deal. Not a thing to freak out about. Men kissed women all the time. It didn’t have to mean anything or lead anywhere. Plus, it wasn’t like she was a novice. She’d been kissed before. Lots of times. Just not recently. Okay, so it had been more than two years. Why was she making a federal case of it?

  Why? Because the awful thing was, she was kissing him right back. As if she didn’t have one brain cell in her head.

  Her world narrowed. Her attention focused on one thing and one thing only. The flavor of Gage Gregory. Tangy, crisp, delicious. Like nothing she had ever tasted. Ambrosia, manna, food of the gods.

  Pure, raw, doctor man.

  Gage kissed her with a delicious languor, as if he had all the time in the world to indulge himself. She’d experienced instant sexual hunger, and the sensation flummoxed her.

  He moved infinitesimally closer. His body pressed against hers. His physical response to their kissing blew his mind. Obviously, whether she liked him made no difference. He liked her.

  He had been trying to make some kind of point with this kiss, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what it was. Her breasts tightened and ached. Heated desire coiled like a snake in her belly. Her mind swam, fuzzy, dazed, flustered.

  Wait a minute. She didn’t get flustered and most especially not from some guy simply kissing her. She was immune to such nonsense. She didn’t believe in romance and she didn’t cave in to runaway lust. Not her. No, sir. She was strong. She was in control. All she had to do was stop kissing him and pull away.

  Nah-Nah! rational voice crowed triumphantly and resumed control, shoving impish voice roughly back into her corner. Take that you shameless hussy.

  Janet wrenched her mouth from his and stared him right in the eyes. His expression was one of awestruck wonder.

  Peachy. Just peachy.

  The last thing she needed was to be responsible for that look in his eyes. Like he had stumbled onto a gold mine.

  I don't wanna go, impish voice whimpered in one last protest.

  Too bad. You’re outta here. Rational voice gave her the boot.

  “Wow,” Gage whispered. “Wow.”

  Janet dropped her gaze, her mouth still stinging from the pressure of his lips, her head still spinning, her thoughts a crazy jumble. What was she going to say to him now?

  Their lunch arriving solved her problem.

  “Who had the tuna melt?” the waitress asked, holding plates in her outstretched hands. “Or would you rather I left you two alone for a little while longer?”

  “Here!” Janet raised her hand. “I had the tuna.”

  The waitress plunked down their food and promised to bring drink refills before turning away.

  “Get on your side of the booth.” She pushed his club sandwich to the opposite end of the table.

  “I’m not going until you admit you like me.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “Stubborn.” Gage shook his head. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to kiss you again.”

  “Don’t even think about.” She brandished her fork. His kiss, no matter how mind-altering, would not change her attitude about their relationship.

  6

  She wasn’t getting romantically involved with him. No way, no shape, no how.

  “But we’re going steady,” he teased.

  “Just eat your sandwich.”

  “Okay.” He winked. “But don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easy.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Gage felt like bashing his head against his desk.

  He had gone and done it again. Rushed to save someone without a single thought to the consequences. When would he ever learn?

  Gage blinked at the stack of patient charts in front of him and tried to focus on the task at hand. Janet had left to orchestrate inoculations at the Well Baby clinic in a poor section of Houston, and she would be out of the office for the rest of the week, promoting her preventive medical care programs. Thank heavens she had gone, taking her killer body, her spellbinding blue eyes, and her intoxicating scent with her.

  But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, Gage’s mind kept wandering back to lunch when he had inadvertently become Janet’s steady beau.

  Okay, all right, it hadn’t been so inadvertent. Secretly, maybe he wanted to go out with her, and he had known she would shoot him down if he had simply asked for a date. But obviously, he had goofed up. Royally. In hindsight, telling Mrs. Hunter that he and Janet were dating probably hadn’t been one of his better ideas.

  And kissing Janet in the restaurant had definitely been a mistake. He had kissed her just to prove a point, but he had forgotten what in the heck that point had been and found himself swept away by the chemistry surging between them.

  Not to mention her powerful response. And what a response it had been! Even now, Gage ran a hand along his mouth, remembering.

  Oh, yeah. Whether the headstrong lady wanted to admit it, she did like him.

  At least sexually, if no other way. His blood heated at the thought of making love to her.

  Heated and boiled over.

  Groaning, Gage kneaded his forehead with two fingers. Having a tête-à-tête with one’s coworker was not a bright idea. What had he been thinking, anyway?

  The truth? He hadn’t thought things through. He had simply acted on instinct.

  Again.

  As he had when he’d married his ex-wife.

  In college, he and Pauline had been study partners, nothing more. When Pauline had gotten pregnant and the baby’s father had run out on her, she had turned to Gage for a shoulder to cry on? He had been there for her and it felt good to help.

  Then her parents had kicked her out. She had nowhere to stay, no money to finish college on. Her despair had cut him like a blade. The next thing he knew, he was asking her to marry him.

  For seven weeks, he had been prouder than proud. He had done a good thing. He moved Pauline into his little one-bedroom apartment just off campus. He had been a thoughtful husband—cooking, cleaning, taking care of the household chores. And he was going to be a daddy, a prospect that thrilled him like nothing else ever had. If he and Pauline weren’t in love, well, was that really so important in the big scheme of things?

  Once, he’d thought not.

  Now he knew better.

  Pauline had miscarried, and Gage had quickly discovered that love was very important indeed. Without the baby gluing them together, the loveless marriage crumbled.

  After that sad experience, Gage swore that nothing short of genuine love would lead him down the aisle again.

  It didn’t take a Freud
ian psychiatrist to pinpoint where he had derived his caretaking tendencies. His mother had been sick during a large part of his childhood. In fact, her illness was the reason he’d given up acting in commercials.

  Not that Gage regretted his lost career. He’d loved looking after his mother. His father, a brilliant Hollywood plastic surgeon, had loved his wife deeply, but he buried it beneath his burgeoning medical practice.

  Although there had been a succession of private-duty nurses, Gage had felt it was mainly his responsibility to help take care of his mother. After many years, she had finally made a full recovery and she bragged to anyone who would listen about how she could never have survived those dark days without her son by her side.

  The satisfying feeling of helping to ease another’s suffering led him to medical school. But he made the mistake of following in his father’s footsteps. He was successful. In fact, he had even pioneered a revolutionary new rhinoplasty technique called the Gregory method that made him a multimillionaire by the time he was thirty.

  But it wasn’t enough. Despite his historic achievements, he had the nagging sensation that something was missing from his life. Something very important.

  His strong desire to help others in need, to do something more useful and satisfying than rearrange some starlet’s already perfect nose, led him to complete a second residency in pediatrics.

  It had been the right choice, and he thought that he had put his celebrated past behind him. The kids knew him simply as Doctor Gage, the man who brought them little gifts and read them stories and told them jokes.

  And that’s the way he liked it. He reveled in obscurity.

  Then, not two months ago, while walking on the beach close to his parents’ home, he had seen a young boy floundering in the surf in distress. Without a second thought, he’d leaped into the powerful tide and pulled him ashore.

  Unfortunately for Gage, the young man had been the son of a United States senator.

  The media had been mad for the story, dubbing him Doctor Hero. His picture had appeared on the front of countless publications, and they had trotted all his past accomplishments out for public consumption. He’d received an invitation to the White House and had even met the president. Strange women showed up on his doorstep wanting to marry him. The paparazzi followed him around as if he were an A-list celebrity.