Can a vow to remain single stand up to an Irish accent?

Dr. Nicole Mann is simply too busy for romance. Her work as a surgeon consumes her entire world and she prefers it that way. That is, until she meets too-charming-for-his-own-good Ty O’Grady. This sexy architect with his enticing Irish accent has her thinking of something other than medicine. So she’ll prescribe herself an intense—but temporary—round of seduction to cure this Ty fever once and for all.

Stubborn, strong and entirely too desirable, Nicole is Ty’s match. When one hot touch leads to another, and another, this footloose drifter suddenly is thinking of a relationship with a design to forever. So he’s pulling out all the sensual stops and will do anything to show her a temptation that’s irresistible!

“Nicole, I’m going to put my hands on you.”

Ty could still see wariness in her jaded eyes as she turned to look at him.

“You already have, Ty.”

“I’m going to put more hands on you.” He edged closer to her.

“Why are you announcing this?” He noted that she didn’t move away, so he moved closer again.

“So that you don’t kick my ego into next week, my warrior princess.” Cupping her face, he tilted it up. Slowly. Giving her plenty of time to settle in. Or back away.

She didn’t back away.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Say yes.”

“Ty—”

“Yes or no, Nicole.” He looked deep in her eyes, waiting for her answer.

“Yes. Okay? Yes! Put your hands on me.” Her arms snaked around his neck, her hands fisted in his hair. “Kiss it all away. Can you do that?”

“Oh, yeah.” His hands slid from her face to her hips and he pulled her close. “I can definitely do that.”

Dear Reader,

We’re back to South Village for Nicole’s adventure into love. Adventure? Maybe I should say her fall straight into love. The genius Dr. Nicole Mann doesn’t take to anything that doesn’t involve work. Dedicated to her profession and little else, she’s what you might call a one-track woman.

That is, until Ty comes along and distracts her with a sexy Irish lilt and a smile that does something funny to her insides. I hope you enjoy her fall!

And next month be sure to catch my third book in the SOUTH VILLAGE SINGLES series, Messing With Mac, where we’ll see if the last of these three friends can hold on to her vow of singlehood.

I wish you all happy reading!

Jill Shalvis

P.S. I love to hear from readers! You can reach me through my Web site, www.jillshalvis.com, or by writing me at P.O. Box 3945, Truckee, CA 96160-3945.

Tangling with Ty
Jill Shalvis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Megan Nicole, my warrior princess

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Letter to Reader

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER 1

A NAKED MAN would have changed everything, but there wasn’t one in sight. So, as always, Nicole Mann got up with the alarm. As always, she showered, dressed and nuked a breakfast burrito in less than eight minutes.

And as always, she was out the door of her apartment at top speed to get to the hospital for what was likely to be a double shift due to a late-spring flu outbreak.

Yes, her life was completely dictated by her work. So what? Being a doctor was a dream-come-true, and if she’d worked at that dream-come-true nearly every waking moment, forsaking just about everything else—including naked men—she could live with that. Being a doctor was what she’d wanted since she’d graduated high school fifteen years ago at the perfectly extraordinary age of twelve.

“Psst.”

For a woman who prided herself on nerves of steel, Nicole nearly leapt out of her skin at the unexpected whisper coming out of the darkened hallway of her apartment building.

But it wasn’t the boogey man or any other menacing threat. It was just the owner of the building and her friend, Taylor Wellington, peeking out her door. Taylor was nice and beautiful—reason enough to hate her—but she also happened to be in possession of that disarming ability to talk until Nicole’s eyes crossed. It completely wore down her defenses.

That they’d—polar opposites—become friends still baffled Nicole.

“Psst!”

“I see you,” Nicole said. “Did I wake you?” Not that the perfectly-put-together Taylor looked anything other than…well, perfectly put together, but it did happen to be the crack of dawn. A time she considered sacrilegious.

“Oh, no, the living dead couldn’t wake me,” Taylor assured her. “I set my alarm so I’d catch you.” Her beautifully made-up eyes toured Nicole. “Honey, I thought we talked about the camouflage gear.”

Nicole looked down at her camouflage cargo pants and green tank top, fitting snug to her lean form. Her wardrobe had been formed back in the expensive days of medical school when she’d been forced to shop in thrift stores, but sue her, she’d developed a fondness for the comfortable garb. That Taylor cared what she wore at all was still a surprise.

Nicole had only lived in this South Village building a few weeks, having moved from another larger building where no one ever even looked at one another. She’d only moved because that place had been sold and the new owners had plans for it to go co-op. She’d come here for its convenience to the hospital, and because it was small. Fewer people to deal with. That this building was also falling off its axis was neither here nor there, as Nicole didn’t care what it looked like, as long as her bed was in it. “Why did you want to catch me?”

“I knew if I didn’t, you’d forget. We’re planning Suzanne’s engagement party tonight.”

Ah, hell. Suzanne Carter lived in the apartment next to Taylor’s. The three of them, the only ones in the building, had shared many laughs and much ice cream, but Nicole still didn’t want to plan a party where she’d have to dress up and smile and make nice. She hated making nice.

“You’d forgotten,” Taylor said.

“No, I…” Okay, she’d forgotten. She couldn’t help it, she was single-minded. Always had been, just ask the family she never managed to see. This year alone, she’d forgotten one sister’s homecoming from college, her mother’s annual April Fool’s Day bash and her own birthday. But her family understood something Taylor didn’t.

Nicole was a firm loner. Connections to people tended to give her hives. Ditto planning engagement parties. “I’m sorry. I…might be late.”

Taylor gave her a long look. “Don’t tell me. You have something new to pierce.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. Taylor had been teasing her about the silver hoops she had lining one ear, but Taylor had no way of knowing that each was a trophy of sort, and a badge of honor worn proudly. “Not a new piercing, no.”

With the patience of a saint, Taylor just lifted a brow.

Nicole racked her brain for her elusive people skills, but as she didn’t have any, they failed her. “We’re short-staffed at the hospital, and—”

“Save it, Super Girl.” Taylor lifted a hand against the upcoming stream of excuses. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? Weddings, and all the trappings, give both of us gas.” She looked right into Nicole’s eyes and gave her a take-your-medicine look. “But this is for Suzanne.”

Suzanne had been the only other person besides Taylor to instantly, genuinely accept Nicole, no matter how abrupt, aloof and self-absorbed she was.

The three of them had only met recently after Taylor had inherited this building with no funds to go with it. She’d rented out space to Suzanne first, then Nicole had come along. They had little in common really. Suzanne, a caterer, kept them in to-die-for food and Suzanne’s personal favorite, ice cream. Taylor, with her dry wit, kept them all amused and, though she’d kill Nicole if she heard her say it, mothered them to death. And Nicole…she had no clue what she added to the mix, so them caring about her still mystified.

But they all shared one common trait—a vow of singlehood. They’d talked about it, often toasted to it and had jointly coveted it… Until Suzanne had done the unthinkable and fallen in love.

Nicole sighed. “I’ll find a way to be here.”

“Don’t worry, they say you can’t catch wedding fever.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me. My work is my life. I’m too into it, too selfish to be anything but single.”

“Right. Our singlehood is firmly intact.”

“Firmly.”

But they stared at each other, a little unnerved. That Suzanne, one so steadfastly single, was now getting married cast a shadow on their vow. Surely neither of them could possibly make the fall into love. Not when they kept their eyes open and their hearts closed.

Yep, heart firmly closed. They were safe that way, totally and completely safe.

* * *

TWENTY-FOUR exhausting hours later, again just before dawn, Nicole dragged her sorry, aching body back up the three flights of stairs to her loft apartment.

It was dark again, or still. It seemed she lived in the dark.

Work had been especially brutal. An unexpected heavy fog had created a pile-up on Highway 5 South. As a result of the forty-two car accident, she’d been in emergency surgery all day, without a break to so much as sneeze. She’d removed two spleens, pinned four legs, reset more shattered ribs than she could remember, and had delivered twins in an emergency caesarian.

Then she’d been asked to stay another shift, and after a quick nap when she’d dreamed of being chased by a white wedding dress and cake—where had that come from?—she’d willingly taken on whatever had come her way. And plenty had.

Now all she wanted was food, a shower and a bed, and not necessarily in that order. She had her Taco Bell bag clutched to her chest, her mouth watering in anticipation of the four regular tacos and extra-large soda. Not the usual breakfast of champions, but food was food and she’d been craving spicy since her second surgery.

And then after the food…oblivion. At least until she had to be back at the hospital again, which happened to be that afternoon for a staff meeting, and then to cover someone else’s shift that night. She already had four surgeries lined up, ready to go.

Had she remembered to grab the hot sauce? She hoped so, she was pretty certain her kitchen—if you could call the hole in the wall that—didn’t have any food in it except for something that had gone green a week ago, and—

“You little buggering piece of sh—” A rustling sound, followed by the squeal of metal on metal, blocked out the rest of that shocking statement made in a deep, Irish brogue. “I’m going to…damn me again, you worked at the last job, so bloody hell if you won’t work here…”

This was spoken so calmly, so confidently in that accent, it took a moment to decipher that the man was making some sort of threat.

Fine. Nicole was in the mood to kick some ass, as long as her Taco Bell didn’t get crushed. Once in a while, having an IQ higher than her weight had some benefits. During med school she’d needed an outlet for all the technical work so she’d taken karate. Like everything she set her mind to, she’d excelled.

Bring it on. She took a defensive stance, then dropped it to set her food down on the top step. No need to risk breakfast. She moved up the last step. There was nothing on this level but her loft and the attic. Nothing but the narrow hallway, which at the moment had a man lying full-length in it. His arms were outstretched, and he held some sort of measuring tool along the scarred wooden planks, swearing the air blue in the most interesting of Irish lilts.

Nicole had to laugh. Or she would have, if she could have taken her eyes off that long, lean, hard male body stretched out so enticingly on the floor in front of her. He had legs from here to Timbuktu, covered in Levi’s that most effectively accented the muscles in his thighs and calves.

And then there was his butt, which was very lovingly cupped in that worn denim. His shirt had ridden up, showing a good amount of tanned, damp skin stretched taut over the rippling sinew of his lower back. The rest of it wasn’t bad either, smooth and sleek in the plain light-blue T-shirt that invited her to Bite Me in bold black letters.

In spite of the scare he’d given her, she grinned. Bite Me was her official motto. “Um…excuse me.”

His arms, stretched over his head, didn’t drop the strange gadget in his hands, which was sending out red lighted bleeps. In fact he didn’t do anything but sigh. “Be a luv,” he said in a voice deep and husky as sin but suddenly utterly devoid of the accent. “And hand me my notes?”

Nicole, still in her defensive stance, craned her neck and saw a small notepad at his hip. It looked as if it had been roughly stuffed in and out of a pocket on a regular basis.

Apparently she hesitated a hair too long, because he pushed up to his elbows and turned his head, giving her a glimpse of jet-black hair cut so short it stuck up in spikes, hitting her with the lightest, most crystal-clear blue eyes she’d ever seen.

He took one look at her with her fists still up, her legs slightly bent and let out another sigh, rubbing his jaw. “We going to duke it out over a notepad then?”

She dropped her fists to her sides, and, keeping her eyes on the most gorgeous stranger she’d ever seen, she bent for her Taco Bell bag. “Who are you and why were you swearing in my hallway?”

“Heard that, did you?” He flashed a grin. “I don’t suppose you’d not repeat any of it to the owner? She specifically said no swearing in her hallways.”

Hmm. Nicole was surprised Taylor hadn’t put this man under lock and key in her bedroom, given her fondness for horizontal gymnastics, and the fact that sexuality rolled off this man in waves.

With one smooth motion, he came to his feet, startling her anew because, granted, she was on the shrimpy side of average height, but he and his hard-as-granite body had to top six feet by several inches.

Which meant her head, if she lifted her nose to nosebleed height, maybe came to his broad shoulder. Between their height discrepancy and her sudden, startling attraction to him, she felt defensive. She hated feeling defensive. It tended to put her on the offensive. Taking one step back, she balanced her weight on the balls of her feet, once again ready for anything.

“Wouldn’t have used that language if I’d have heard you coming.” A bit chagrined now, he cocked his head and scratched his jaw, which, judging by the dark shadow there, he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “Went and startled you, I see.”

She narrowed her eyes. Yep, his accent was gone, but there was something stilted about how he sounded now, as if he were hiding something.

She knew well enough about hiding secrets, but didn’t like it when others did the same. “Answer my questions, please.”

As she’d raised an accusatory finger directed toward his very fine chest, he lifted his hands in surrender. “No need to shoot, I’m just the architect. Ty Patrick O’Grady at your service.”

“You’re the…architect.”

“For the building here. It’s going to be renovated.” As if to prove he was harmless—harmless, ha!—he propped up the wall with his shoulder and gave her a disarming little half smile that sent sparks of awareness shivering down her spine. “Needs an architect before anything else, you know,” he said. “Turns out this place is a historical monument, and is in desperate need of some serious structural repair.”

As the place was smack dab in the middle of elegant, sophisticated South Village, where the rich came to play, and everyone else came to pretend to be rich, Nicole decided she could buy that. Especially since this particular building was the current eyesore of the entire block.

Taylor had been having one expert or another through here for weeks in anticipation of a major renovation. “So you’re working up a bid for the owner? Suzanne?” she asked, watching him carefully.

Now he smiled, slow and sure. “No, not Suzanne. Taylor, but good try. It’d take more than a peewee to trip me up, darlin’.”

A peewee? He’d just called her a peewee? She’d give him peewee.

He lifted one jet-black brow at the narrowing of her eyes, and dared to smile at her obvious temper. “Want to see my ID or are you just going to clobber me with that lovely smelling Taco Bell bag?”

“What happened to your accent?”

His face went curiously blank. “What accent?”

“You had an Irish accent. Are you an immigrant?”

“Yep, just got off the boat from Australia, mate.” He grinned. “Or maybe that was…” His accent went from Aussie to Austrian in a heartbeat. “From another continent entirely.”

A smart-ass. “It’s awfully late to be working on a bid.”

“You mean early, don’t you?”

That might be; she had no idea whether she was coming or going. “Whichever. Why are you here now?”

“I’m what you’d call a busy man…now, darlin’, you’ve got me so flustered, I’ve gone and missed your name.”

Nicole crossed her arms. “It’s not darlin’, I’ll tell you that.”

He let out another smile, which she had to admit could melt bones at fifty paces. “Do I have to guess then?”

“Dr. Mann,” she grudgingly gave him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got tacos to eat.” And a date with a bed.

Alone.

Where that thought came from, she had no earthly clue. She always slept alone.

Always.

She stared at him still staring at her with a little, knowing smile that made her want to grind her teeth for some reason. “What? You going to make a crack about me being far too young to be a doctor? I get a lot of little-girl jokes. Go ahead, give me your best shot.”

He took a good, long look down her body, then slowly, slowly back up again, stopping at the points that seemed to be connected to her loins, since they all came alive with a little flutter that annoyed her even more. “You look all woman to me.”

Oh, definitely, she was too tired for this. She brushed past him and stopped at her door, slapping her myriad of pockets, looking for the keys she could never quite remember where she’d left.

“Problem?”

Scowling, she ignored him and switched her Taco Bell bag to the other arm to check her back pocket. No go. Damn, that was the trouble with cargo pants. Comfortable, yes. Practical, with their twelve million pockets to lose things in, no.

“Dr. Mann—”

“Please,” she said to that quiet, outrageously sexy voice as she closed her eyes. “Just…go away.” If she didn’t gobble the food and hit the bed, she’d fall asleep right here on her feet.

She could do it, too. She’d slept on her feet before, during med school, during the long nights of residency….

A sharp click had her blinking rapidly at her…opened door? Ty Patrick O’Grady, architect, sometimes owner of a sexy Irish lilt, man of a thousand curses and one incredible smile, held up a credit card. “Handy, these things, aren’t they now?”

“You…broke in?”

“Easily.”

“Are you a criminal?”

He laughed, low and sexily, damn him. “Let’s just say I’ve been around. You need a better lock.”

“You can’t just—”

“Did you find your keys?”

“No, but—”

“Just get inside, darlin’.” He gave her a gentle shove as he took the Taco Bell bag from her fingers just before the thing would have dropped to the ground. “Before you fall down.”

She stepped over the threshold, reaching back to slam the door. Unfortunately he was on the wrong side of that door and ended up inside her very small place, which seemed that much smaller with his huge presence in it. “And I’m not your darling,” she said, turning away.

“Nope, you’re Dr. Mann.”

She sighed and faced him again. “Okay, so I’m stuffy when I’m tired. Sue me.”

“I’d rather call you by your first name.”

“Nicole,” she snapped, then grabbed her Taco Bell from his fingers and headed into the kitchen, which happened to be only about four steps in. “Feel free to let yourself out.”

Naturally, and because she suspected he was as ornery and contrary as he was magnificent looking, he followed her instead.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Making sure you don’t fall down on your feet.”

“We’ve already established I’m a grown-up.”

“You’re right about that. Um…” He watched her shove aside a pile of medical journals and rip into the bag with a wince. “How about some real breakfast?”

“This is real.” And her mouth was watering. “Goodbye, Mr. Architect.”

“You know, you’re very welcome,” he said when she grabbed a taco, leaned against the counter and took a huge bite. “Glad I could help.”

“Yeah. Thank you for breaking and entering.” She nearly moaned when the food hit her tongue, but managed to hold it back, sucking down a good part of her soda before practically inhaling the rest of her first taco.

When she reached into the bag for the next one, he sighed.

She eyed him. “You forget where the front door is? Wouldn’t want it to hit you on your way out.”

“You should really make yourself some healthier food—”

“There’s meat, cheese, lettuce and shell here…I’ve got all the food groups represented.”

“Yes, but—” He watched her lick a drop of sauce off her thumb. “I’m assuming you just got off some brutal shift at the hospital?”

“Yeah…” She paused for a long, amazingly refreshing gulp of soda. “Don’t take this personally, okay? But could you go away? I’ve got a date with my bed, and it doesn’t include anyone else but me and my pillow.”

“Now that’s a crying shame.” He added a slow grin that upped her pulse.

“Don’t get any ideas. I don’t play doctor with strangers.”

“Who’d want to play with that attitude?” He grinned when she growled at him. “And I wasn’t propositioning you, Dr. Nicole Mann. I just think you should eat something that has more nutrients than…say a paper bag. Why don’t you let me cook—”

He broke off when she burst into laughter. Feeling less like she was going to die on the spot now that she had something in her belly, she set down her taco and headed for the front door. While she was certain he could “cook” up something all right, she wasn’t interested. Yes, she enjoyed looking at a great specimen of a man such as himself, but she didn’t feel the need to do more than look. “Goodnight,” she said, holding the door open.

“Let me guess…” He sauntered up to her with that loose-hipped stride of his, all long, lean grace. His eyes, those amazing blue, blue eyes, seemed to see straight through her. “You have a thing against real food?”

“No, I have a thing against strangers offering to cook for me. Let’s face it, Mr. Architect.” She offered him a nasty smile she reserved for the lowest forms of life—men on the prowl. “You weren’t offering to cook me food.”

“I wasn’t?” He lifted a black brow so far it nearly vanished. “And what did you think I was offering to cook?”

“Let’s just say I’m not interested, whatever it was.”

With a slow shake of his head, his mouth curved. He wasn’t insulted. Wasn’t mad or irate. But he was amused at her expense.

“Let’s just say,” he said, mocking her.

“Goodnight,” she repeated, wondering what it was about him that made her both annoyed and yet so…aware.

“Goodnight. Even though it’s morning.” He lifted a finger, stroking it once over her jaw before turning and walking out the door.

When he was gone, she put her finger to her tingling jaw. It wasn’t until a moment later she realized his last few words, “even though it’s morning,” had been uttered in that same Irish accent he’d claimed not to have.

* * *

THAT DAY Ty pulled his own long shift. He had three jobs going in downtown Los Angeles, two in Burbank, four in Glendale and, he hoped, the new one right here in South Village.

It was odd, how fond he’d become of the place. Maybe because the city, just outside of Los Angeles, was a genuinely historical stretch of streets from the great old-Western days. Thanks to an innovative—and wealthy—town council, most of the buildings had been rescued, preserved and restored, leaving the streets a popular fun spot filled with restaurants, theaters, unique boutiques and plenty of celebrities to spy on.

Ty had little interest in the swell of young urban singles that crowded the streets on nights and weekends, but he did love the atmosphere.

He especially loved all the work, for there were plenty of buildings still in the pre-renovation stage, needing architects.

Being a relatively new architect in town without the usual partners and office staff meant more work for him. It meant a lot of running around. It also meant lots of time holed up with his drawing table.

He didn’t mind the extra hours or the hard work. In fact, that was how he liked it. If something came easy or was handed to him, he was suspicious of it.

That came from his early years, when nothing had been either easy or handed to him, before or after he’d quite literally crawled, scratched and fought his way out of the gutter.

Old times, he thought, and tossing his pencil down, he leaned back in his chair. He put his feet up on the drawing table and looked out the window at the San Gabriel Mountains. No doubt, California was beautiful. Not beautiful like say…Rio. Or Tokyo. Or any of the many places he’d been through on his quest to get as far away from where he’d started as possible, but beautiful in the way that he felt…at ease.

Not that the feeling would last, it never did. Sooner rather than later the need to move on would over come him…he thought New York might interest him. But for now, California, land of hot blondes, health food and sandy beaches, was good.

It was also a great place for anonymity, and that, really, was the draw. Here, he could be whoever or whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter to anyone.

And here, surrounded by the success he’d so carefully built, he was exactly that.

Someone.

Someone with a full bank account, thank you very much. And an office that spelled success, inside a huge, sprawling house with every luxury at his fingertips.

Never again would he have an empty belly or the bone-gnawing fear of the unknown, both of which he’d lived with during his beyond-humble beginnings in the seediest of areas in Dublin, Ireland.

He rarely thought of it now, there was no need. He’d put it all behind him, years and years ago. He’d moved on.

Now nothing could hurt him as he continued on his merry way to fill the bank account even more, to do the work that so pleased him. And if he managed to get lucky in between those two things with a California babe here and there, so much the better.

He thought of this morning, and one Dr. Nicole Mann. Not the typical California babe, that was certain. But with her fatigues and tough take-it-on-the-chin attitude, she was easily the sexiest little number he’d ever seen. And he did mean little, for she’d barely come to his shoulder. Still her body had been honed to a curvy, mouthwatering perfection by what he suspected was sheer will on her part—it certainly wasn’t a result of her diet if her “breakfast” was anything to go on. Definitely, the one thing the good doctor had in spades was will. She could kill with just her eyes, these long-lashed, huge eyes, the gray of a wicked winter storm. Her hair, shiny, dark and cut short to her stubborn chin, made him think of silk.

He would have laughed at the impression she’d made on him, if there was anything funny about it. She was different, and because of it she’d grabbed him on a level he didn’t want to be grabbed at. So he wouldn’t think about her or her perfect, meant-for hot-wild-sex mouth.

Straightening, he put his feet firmly on the ground. He liked his feet on the ground. To do that, he had to keep a certain distance from others, and that included sexy Dr. Mann. Spinning in his chair, he propelled himself the few feet to his computer and booted it up. To clear his head of stormy gray eyes and that kissable frown, he’d work.

His e-mail account opened, showing twenty-eight unread messages. Skimming through, he deleted each as he took care of various work issues.

And it was all work. Except the last one. He didn’t recognize the sender’s address, but didn’t think anything of it until he opened the mail.

Are you Ty Patrick O’Grady of Dublin?

Surging to his feet, he stared at the e-mail. The words were still there. Stuffing his fingers in his hair he turned a slow circle. No one knew where he was from. No one.

But when he bent to look at the screen again, the words hadn’t changed.

Are you Ty Patrick O’Grady of Dublin?

Hell, yes, he was. But who wanted to know? And why? There was nothing good about his past. In fact, there was so much bad, his stomach cramped just thinking about it.

He reached toward the keyboard to delete the message, but his finger hovered just over the key.

Who was asking?

No. It didn’t matter. None of his past mattered, and with another low oath and yet another slow spin around the room he came back to his computer. Stared at the message some more.

Then slowly reached out and punched Delete.

CHAPTER 2

AFTER TWO straight days of hell at work, Nicole drove home. She could tell it wasn’t her usual time to be doing so—the usual time being very, very late or very, very early—because there wasn’t a single parking space to be found in all of South Village, much less on the busy street where she lived.

Shops, galleries and restaurants were all hopping with activity, reminding her that everyone else but herself had a life outside of work. But then, she’d decided long ago that medicine was her life. All she needed now was a place to park her car. Finally, after circling the block—twice—swearing in a very satisfying manner and even getting flipped off in the process, she got a spot down the street. The walk to the apartment felt good. So did the bag of fresh croissants she purchased at a corner deli. They’d go splendidly with the take-out hamburgers in a bag in her other hand.

Finally, she came to her building. It really was the wince spot of the area, though the turrets, mock balconies and many windows gave the hundred-year-old place its own charm and personality. Albeit a neglected, falling-down kind of charm.

The two storefronts on the ground floor were empty, though Suzanne planned to open a catering shop in one of them. Taylor was doing her best, working on the renovation day and night, gathering bids and selling off some of her antique collection to do it.

There were plants hanging from window boxes in front of the two apartments on the second floor. Taylor’s boxes were effortlessly green and flowery, Suzanne’s looked a little wilted since she spent most of her time at Ryan’s now.

Nicole could have bought her own place. Her mother often hounded her about it. After all, doctors made tons of dough, right?

Ha! She was twenty-seven. Maybe by the time she was forty she’d have half her college loans paid off. Then again, given that she tended to spend her extra time working at clinics for free to ensure that the less fortunate got medical care, maybe not. Didn’t matter. Work was who she was, what she did and there wasn’t time left over to tend to so much as a single little plant, much less a house of her own.

She liked things that way.

Exhausted, she staggered up the stairs to her loft. It was still light outside, which confused her. She squinted at her living room. How different it looked with sunlight streaming through the big window. On the street below throngs of people were heading toward chic restaurants and cafés. A glance at her watch told her why. It was five in the afternoon. People were meeting for after-work drinks or early dinners. The thought of socializing like that startled her somewhat. When she wasn’t pouring herself into work, she truly preferred to spend her time alone.

She wolfed down the fast food first, while reading one of three medical journals on the table in front of her. The hamburger and super-size fries were the perfect accompaniment to the article on a new and innovative artery replacement. Then, with the sun still shining in all the windows, she headed into her bathroom, still reading, nibbling on a croissant as she stripped for a mind-numbingly hot shower.

No one could ever say she couldn’t multi-task.

After her steaming shower, she padded naked back into her bedroom, heading directly for the bed, until she glanced at her answering machine, which was blinking.

Damn it, why did she have one of those things again?

Because the hospital administration, tired of not being able to get her when they needed, had insisted. With a sigh, she hit the message button. If it was work, she’d just roll over and die right now.

“Nicole, baby, it’s me. Mom,” her mother clarified in her cheerful, laughing voice, as if Nicole wouldn’t recognize the woman who’d been nagging her all her life. “Are you working too hard? Are you getting any rest? Are you eating right? Are you ever going to call me and put my mind to rest that my baby isn’t working herself into an early grave?”

Nicole sank to her bed and ran the towel over her short mop of hair—her idea of styling. Since she’d just called her mother last week, in fact, called every week, she refused to feel guilty.

“Once a week just isn’t enough, Nicole,” her mother said with her perfectly startling ability to read her daughter’s mind. “I want to hear you.”

Nicole rolled her eyes but a smile escaped anyway.

“Honey, listen. I’m making pot roast on Sunday. Your father called your sisters and everyone is coming—the husbands, the kids, everyone.”

Oh, good God. Nicole had three sisters, each of whom had a husband, the requisite minivan, the house in the burbs and at least two kids. The thought of that entire noisy, happy bunch all in one place made Nicole suddenly need another hamburger.

“So, honey, you have to come. We’ll expect you by four, and let me warn you, if you don’t show, I’ll…well, I’ll call you every single day for a week.”

As Nicole’s mother was quite possibly the bossiest, nosiest, most meddling, warm, loving person on the planet, Nicole believed her.

But everyone under one roof? Laughing, talking, happily arguing sisters, sticky toddlers, drooling babies, stinky diapers… She felt a headache coming on already. She loved her family, she did, but sometimes she felt as if she was an alien, plopped down in the middle of a planet where she didn’t belong. They were all so…normal. Something she’d never been. Despite her genius IQ, she couldn’t deal with people outside of medicine. It was so difficult for her to get out of her own head, she rarely knew what to say to people and some of the basic niceties escaped her. That her family loved her anyway, even though she was intensely introverted, was a strange and odd miracle she tried not to think about too often.

“So, we’ll see you Sunday,” her mom said as if it’d been decided. “It’ll be fun to be all together.”

Fun wasn’t quite the word Nicole would have come up with. Maybe she’d have work. Yeah, that was it, she could add a shift and—

“Love you, baby.”

Ah, hell. Sunday it was.

Still naked, she plopped on the bed. It only took two pillows over her head and approximately twenty seconds for sleep to conquer her the same way she’d conquered her world.

She dreamed. She would have thought she’d be haunted by the blood of her second surgery that day. A patient had burst an artery and by the time she’d gotten everything under control she’d been standing in a sea of red.

But blessedly she’d left that behind at the hospital. Instead, in dreamland, she was two years old again, and memorizing the book of presidents her parents had kept on the coffee table. For fun, she’d recite them backwards to her hotshot, know-it-all sisters Annie and Emma.

It had been their first inkling that Nicole was going to be different.

The dream shifted and she was six, helping Emma with her seventh-grade algebra.

At twelve, she’d helped Annie with her PSAT testing. A genius, were the whispers around her. Off-the-scale IQ, they said. A prodigy.

At twelve, Nicole should have been into lip gloss, pop bands and boys. Instead she’d been fascinated by science. She operated on frogs. She dissected bugs.

Yet kids her own age remained a mystery to her, a complete mystery.

And now that she was grown up, she was still different. She should have learned to deal with others by now. Learned to be a social creature, well rounded and defined.

But the reality was that she’d rarely dated and had no idea how to do anything but heal. It was what she was. Who she was. A doctor.

Nothing else.

So why did the next dream involve one tall, dark and sexy Irish architect with a killer smile and eyes that made her yearn for something completely out of her reach?

Turning over, she sank back into an exhausted and dreamless slumber.

* * *

“WAKE UP, Nicole, you’re scaring me.”

Nicole snuggled more deeply beneath her covers. “Go away, Mom, I don’t have school today.”

“I had better not look anything like a woman old enough to be your mother.”

Nicole jerked her eyes open, heart pounding. Okay, good, she was home. The sun was shining again, how annoying.

And Taylor sat on her bed, looking as stunningly beautiful and elegant as ever.

With a groan, Nicole shut her eyes again. “I didn’t help you with the engagement party plans, right?”

“No, but I forgive you because you’re going to reschedule. I brought you breakfast.”

Nicole smelled something delicious. She cracked open an eye and saw a tray filled with mouthwatering food.

“I should tell you—as if you couldn’t guess—I didn’t cook this. Suzanne’s catering a big brunch this morning and made this up for us. You frightened the hell out of me, not answering your door. You never even heard me calling for you like a banshee, and we all know I don’t like to sound like a banshee. Who sleeps like that?”

Nicole blinked. “Well…”

“You’ve overworked yourself again, haven’t you? Nicole, honey, that’s just plain bad for you.”

Nicole closed her eyes, rendered stupid by this display of concern. Maybe if she was really still, Taylor would vanish. A figment of her imagination.

“Not much of a morning person,” came an amused male voice from the other side of the room.

If Nicole had thought her heart had raced at the sight of Taylor in her bedroom, it went off the scale now. Even after their very brief encounter, she recognized that slightly Irish voice, she recognized it immediately. And if it brought a series of shivers down her spine that she couldn’t attribute to a morning chill, she could shove the reaction aside in favor of temper. “What the hell—”

“Now before you get all pissy at me…” Taylor put a hand over Nicole’s chest, pushing her back. “Let me explain.”

Nicole could take Taylor down any day of the week. Her workouts, when she could fit them in, guaranteed that.

The only exercise Taylor ever did was lifting and setting down her hairbrush. Oh, and her lipstick.

No, what held Nicole back from wrapping her fingers around Taylor’s neck was one tiny little detail.

She slept in the nude.

Which meant that in order to kick Taylor’s ass, she’d have to get out of bed.

Naked.

“Why is he in here?” she settled for asking between her teeth while clutching the sheet to her chest.

From his perch holding up her wall, Ty’s gaze zoomed in on her—a very blue gaze that was lit with amusement, curiosity and plenty more—and for just a flash in time, she lost her train of thought.

Taylor craned her neck and looked up at the tall, dark, ridiculously gorgeous man. “You’ve met?”

“You could say that,” Nicole said.

“Oh, good, because I’m thinking of hiring him to fix up the building, which apparently is about to fall off its axis. Not,” she added quickly, “that you need to worry about it, I’m getting it all fixed pronto.”

“Taylor.” Nicole rubbed her temples. “The point. Get to the point. Why is he here? Specifically, in my bedroom.”

“Well, I was standing there in the hallway yelling for you, and beginning to freak out when you didn’t answer, when he offered to break in since I didn’t have my keys on me. He’s not only an excellent architect, he’s quite the handyman.”

“Let me guess,” Nicole said dryly, watching Ty smile at her from behind Taylor’s back. “He got in with a credit card?”

“Why, yes. A handy little trick, don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” Nicole narrowed her eyes at the ease he displayed standing there in her bedroom. As if he belonged.

But no one, especially a man, belonged in her bedroom, no matter how good he looked in a light-blue chambray shirt shoved up past his forearms, and a pair of jeans that made her hormones stand up and quiver. “Is the credit card trick something you picked up in Ireland?” she asked.

“Why ever would you think that?” he asked innocently.

As if he’d ever been innocent. “Because I hear it in your voice.”

“That’s the English, luv,” he said, pushing lazily away from the wall, coming close enough to peruse the tray from Suzanne. Then, picking up a piece of toast, his gaze tracked over Nicole from head to toe, and back again, making every single atom in her body leap to attention. Sinking his teeth into the bread, he chewed a moment, then licked the butter off his finger with a sucking sound that caused an answering tug in Nicole’s nipples for some annoying reason. “Went there for a while,” he said.

“Thought it was Scotland.”

Leaning in, he put the toast to her lips, pressing until she had no choice but to open and take a bite. “There, too,” he said lightly, making her take yet another bite, his thumb stroking across her bottom lip at a dab of misplaced butter. “And also Australia, if you’re interested in keeping track.”

She felt the touch all the way to her toes and back up, and at all sorts of other interesting spots along the way. It didn’t help that her eyes were level with a most erotic spot on his body—the juncture between his thighs—and the intriguing bulge there.

“I had to make sure you were okay,” Taylor said, picking up a piece of peach from the tray. “I’m sorry for the invasion, but you’ve done nothing but work since you moved in here, and you sleep like the dead.”

Ty let out another innocent smile. “And you talk to yourself while doing it.”

Nicole opened her mouth, but Taylor stuffed the peach into it. At the explosion of sweet nectar in her mouth, she sputtered.

“That was a piece of fruit,” Taylor said. “I realize you might not recognize it, given that it’s actually one of the important food groups and not purchased from a drive-through.”

“Taylor—”

“You’re going to kill yourself this way,” Taylor said softly, her eyes showing their worry. “It’s not right. Promise me you’ll eat all of this mountain of food. The eggs, the sausage, the toast, the fruit, everything.”

Nicole sighed. “I never had a landlord care what I put inside my body before.”

Taylor went still, then brushed the crumbs off her hands. “Is that all I am?”

Nicole looked into Taylor’s eyes, saw the hurt added to the worry, and flopped back to stare up at the ceiling. “This is why I don’t socialize.”

Taylor stood a little stiffly, when the elegant Taylor was never stiff. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. Just make sure Suzanne gets her tray back—”

Nicole reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Look…I’m the sorry one.”

“No need.”

Nicole sighed at the cool hurt lingering in Taylor’s face and tugged on her wrist until she sat back at her side. “I’m an idiot, all right? An idiot who doesn’t know how to…have friends.”

“So we are friends?”

“You know we are. Unless you shove any more fruit down my throat.”

“In that case…” Taylor spread her silk skirt carefully and made herself comfortable on the bed before reaching for a piece of toast. “There’s enough here to feed an army. Ty, some sausage? Don’t be shy, hon, Suzanne is so nervous about her upcoming nuptials that she’s overcooking to compensate.”

“Taylor,” Nicole said in a warning voice that turned into a squeak when Ty suddenly joined them.

On the bed.

His long denim-covered legs brushed hers. There were the covers between them, but given the electric zap she felt at the brush of his warm, hard body, and given the way the current continued to run through her, there weren’t enough covers in all of South Village to keep between them.

And then there was how her heart gave a little leap when he turned his head and pierced her with those amazing eyes of his.

Instant lust. She’d heard about it but had never experienced the phenomenon firsthand.

She didn’t like it.

Gripping the sheet to her chest for all it was worth, Nicole watched as her two uninvited houseguests helped themselves to the tray of food balancing on her knees.

It was an unreal feeling having Ty’s long fingers hover over the plate only inches from her very naked body as he decided on a slice of apple.

It crunched between his white teeth as he looked at her.

Unreal, she decided, and definitely…arousing, if the way her body tingled was any indication. “I…need to get up.”

Taylor used the fork to bite into the homemade hash browns, then moaned. “Oh, these. These are to die for. Ty?”

Leaning in, he opened his mouth to the forkful Taylor was offering him.

“Fabulous, right?” Taylor said as he chewed.

He licked his lips, and for an instant, as he looked at Nicole, something hot and dangerous flashed in his eyes. “Oh yeah.”

“More?” Taylor asked. “A man your size, who works as hard as you do, needs to keep up his strength.”

Still gripping the sheet, Nicole grated her teeth. “I really need to—Hey!” she said around the bite of warm hash browns Ty shoved into her mouth. And not too gently either. She had to open quickly and use her tongue to keep from spilling them down her front.

His electric-blue eyes never left hers. She would have opened her mouth and blistered him if she hadn’t had it so full of the food. And oh man, the food. Heaven.

Not that she was going to admit it. “I don’t eat breakfast,” she said, trying not to moan in pleasure as the food started to hit her stomach. “Just—”

“Coffee,” Ty finished for her, bending so close his lips almost brushed hers. “We’ve heard. It’s here.” She could feel his body heat, the warm breath that caused goose bumps to skitter down her side. “You’re going to give yourself ulcers the way you eat.” He tsked. “And you claim to be a doctor.”

“Oh, I definitely like you,” Taylor said to Ty, who grinned at her. “We can tag-team her. I know you like to move around a lot, but I don’t suppose after this job you’d stay on and reprogram my friend here?”

“I really have to get up,” Nicole said, jaw clenched. “So if you could…” She gestured to the door.

“Go ahead.” Ty’s eyes were lit with the dare. “Get up.”

Nicole thought about how very naked she was under her sheet and gripped it tighter to her chest. She’d never been shy, had never felt anything but comfortable in her own skin. This came from years of no privacy in a tiny house with too many family members, then college dorms, and more recently, the locker area at work, which wasn’t much bigger or more private than her bedroom happened to be at the moment. But in front of this man, she suddenly felt…inadequate. He was red-blooded, through and through. She figured she knew his type; big boobs and breeding hips, with lots of hair to drape over his chest, that’s what he’d want.

Her virtual opposite.

Not that she cared. She just didn’t plan to flaunt her small boobs and small hips anywhere near him.

Then, from across the small bedroom, under a mountain of clothes and more medical journals on a chair, came the unmistakable sound of her beeper going off.

Taylor held out her hand to keep Nicole in bed. “It’s your day off.”

“I can’t just ignore it.” But it was a shame she hadn’t piled more clothes on top of the beeper before last night. A few more days’ worth and no one could have possibly heard the thing go off. “Okay, fun’s over. You guys did good, you fed me. Now get lost.”

“Nicole,” Taylor said sternly, still sitting on the bed. “Do not get that pager.”

Nicole turned to Ty, whose daring, smiling gaze had never left hers. “I have to.”

“Sure you do, darlin’.” He lifted an inviting hand. “Go right ahead, if it’s meaning that much to you.”

“You have to move first.”

Generous to a fault, he scooted down on the bed a tad, giving her enough room to leave the bed if she so desired. “Go on now.”

With as much dignity as she could muster, which wasn’t much, she grabbed the sheet and held on to it for dear life as she slid from the bed. Standing was a bit tricky, but she wrapped the sheet around her so fast her head nearly spun. Surely no one had gotten a glimpse of anything. Still, she didn’t quite dare to look back and catch a peek at Ty’s face as she headed, chin thrust high, toward the chair.

She had to shove the medical journals and clothes to the floor to verify, but yep, it was work.

“Don’t tell me.” Taylor stood up. “You’re going in. You’re hopeless, you know that?” With a dramatic sigh, she headed toward the door. “But we’ll be there, Nicole, if you fall.”

“We?”

“Suzanne and I, of course. Ornery as you are, you’ll need us to stick by you. So go. Go work yourself to exhaustion again. Enjoy.”

“I will, thanks.” Half amused at the genuine compassion and worry that she’d seen on Taylor’s face, she turned back to face Ty. “Don’t let the door get you on the ass on your way out. I’m taking a shower.”

“Maybe you’d better take your caffeine with you.” He held out a mug of coffee.

“Thanks.” Grateful but not about to admit it, Nicole held on to the sheet for dear life and hobbled into the bathroom. She shut the door harder than she should have, and clicked the lock into place with what sounded like a gunshot.

She might have had to wake up with an audience, then eat with one, but hell if she’d shower in front of one, no matter how pretty he was.

Still, the hot steam worked wonders, and she stayed there for a good long time, until the hot water turned warm, then tepid. Finally, she stepped out and sighed.

Damn, she’d been looking forward to a day off.

There was one dry towel left on the rack, which meant she needed to seriously consider the pile of things behind her bedroom door as well as the pile now on her floor, both of which she so lovingly referred to as Laundry Mountain Range. Tucking the towel beneath her armpits, she studied herself impassively in the mirror.

Not bad, she’d give herself that. And though she’d prefer to be taller than so damn short, her bones weren’t bad either. Thanks to her workouts, she was a lean, mean, fighting machine.

But breasts would have been nice.

Laughing at herself, she turned away. What would she have done with cleavage? It wasn’t as if she had dates lining up.

Still smiling, she opened the door and marched into her bedroom, dropping her towel as she went.

Because she had excellent eyesight, she therefore had a front-and-center view of Ty sitting on her bed, holding a glass of orange juice.

He had a front-and-center view, too. Of her.

The glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor in tune with her shriek as she bent down for her towel. “What are you doing?”

“I…”

Straightening, she studiously avoided looking into his face as she refastened the towel. “I thought you left!”

“Yeah, I…”

“You said that already!”

Ty knew that, but he was still flummoxed by the sight of her tight, lean body all dewy and damp from her shower. Standing now, he wasn’t reassured by the fact his knees wobbled.

What was wrong with him? She wasn’t his usual type, meaning stacked and blond and soft. There was nothing soft about Nicole, not her tough, angular body, not her voice, and most definitely not her eyes.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking dirty little thoughts? Or take his eyes off her? “Sorry. I just wanted to be sure you at least drank some juice.”

“Can’t do that now, can I?” With jerky movements, she tightened the towel even further over her breasts.

Breasts that he now knew were a perfect handful, tipped with tight rose-colored nipples. Somehow he managed to walk to her, lift her chin and look into her furious and…damn it, very embarrassed, eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated softly.

“Yeah.”

He gazed at her grim mouth, and unbidden, his thoughts turned to kissing her until she was soft and pliant, until she sighed and gave herself over to him and the pleasure he could give her. He, Ty Patrick O’Grady, no-good bastard, black-heart. “You should know I’m attracted to you in a way I can’t quite seem to get over.”

“And yet you’ve seen me naked. Imagine that.”

She didn’t believe him. He sucked in a breath and inhaled the scent of her shampoo and ridiculously, his body reacted.

Perfect.

Now all his thinking had taken him to a place he had no business going, not with this woman. She wasn’t the type to put up with a man afflicted with a serious sense of wanderlust, a man who never knew when he was going to decide to up and relocate.

Hell, he’d never found any woman, on this continent or otherwise, who’d put up with that.

Not that he wanted one to.

“You’re beautiful, Nicole,” he heard himself say as he stroked a finger over her cheek, her jaw. “So damn beautiful.”

It wasn’t until he got down the stairs and into his car that he let out the breath he’d been holding and stared off at nothing.

He’d meant what he’d said. He was attracted to her in a way he couldn’t get past. And she was beautiful, with or without that mouthwatering body and all that creamy, creamy skin exposed. So damned beautiful he ached.

Not a good thing, not a good thing at all.

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